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When preparing to kidnap Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi had expected a fight. 

A struggle, at least. He would never hurt Anakin, of course, that was antithetical to Obi-Wan’s aims. But he’d expected some resistance. He had been prepared for it. 

What he was not prepared for was Anakin snuggling into his lap like a loth kitten. 

The entire operation had caught the Sith lord wrong-footed from the start. He had touched down on Kashyyyk after months of careful planning. Years of careful planning, really. 

When Obi-Wan first left the Order, ten years ago now - still grieving his former master, wounded over the Council’s denial that he fulfill Qui-Gon’s final wish - Obi-Wan had once again felt every inch the dejected initiate being shipped off to the AgriCorps. 

True, they had not made him leave, but it had been a dismissal all the same. A rejection. They would not let him train Anakin - he was too young, too inexperienced, too full of grief and still tinged with darkness from striking Qui-Gon’s murderer down. He was too young and Anakin was too old, the Council said. The boy needed a firmer hand. A more experienced Master to gently tease out and comb through the boy’s attachment to his mother, to acclimate him to the ways of the Jedi. 

What’s more, the Council wouldn’t grant Obi-Wan leave to hunt down the Sith behind Qui-Gon’s death, the master of the Zabrak Obi-Wan had halved on Naboo. Needed here, you are, Yoda had said, no doubt an attempt to spare Obi-Wan’s ego after the Council had already thoroughly crushed it. All Obi-Wan heard was that they didn’t trust him to do this, either. 

And so he left. His first few years away from the Order Obi-Wan spent floundering. On his own for the first time, following cold trail after cold trail. It wasn’t until three years, and a galaxy’s worth of hard-won street smarts later, that Obi-Wan’s hunt led him directly to…

the Chancellor of the Republic. 

When he found the Chancellor, Darth Sidious, Obi-Wan was tired. Lonely. Angry at the Jedi. But mostly, tired. And so Obi-Wan had knelt. 

He knelt for Darth Sidious and was given an equally ridiculous moniker. Darth Knox. “It means darkness,” Sidious had gleefully hissed. Subsequent study would reveal to Obi-Wan that this was a mistranslation of ancient Aurebesh. It actually meant small hill.

It didn’t take long for Obi-Wan to realize he had made a mistake. 

A Sith draws power from his pain and suffering; he takes the weakness and hurt and transmutes them into something useful. The Jedi may not approve, but it is not, in and of itself, an ignoble act. 

Sheev Palpatine, on the other hand, draws his power from the pain and suffering of everyone around him. He was cruel. His ego was malignant. And it quickly became clear he had no intention of teaching Obi-Wan anything of value. 

And the more Obi-Wan learned about Sidious’ plans for the Galaxy, for the Republic, for Anakin, the more Obi-Wan knew it was something he had no interest in being a part of, especially not as a lapdog. And so, after a year of force lightning and petty errands and learning absolutely nothing useful about how to wield the dark side of the force, Obi-Wan left in the middle of the night, taking all the credits he could find with him. 

He’d spent the last six years since then with several aims. 

First was hiding from Palpatine. The man wanted him dead, Obi-Wan knew. He knew too much. He’d seen too much. And, despite Palpatine’s best efforts to keep him neutered, he was powerful. Palpatine was smart but Obi-Wan was smarter. He’d managed to keep any trails leading back to himself cold enough to avoid a blaster through the head in the middle of the night. 

Second, he put the credits he stole from Palpatine to good use. It wasn’t enough to really make a difference to a man who was the Chancellor of the Republic and had his fingers in many, many pies, but it was enough to give Obi-Wan a start. Anything he didn’t need to spend to get by, he began investing. 

Over the years he’d acquired enough credits to get himself a home - a proper home - his first since the Temple, really (not that Obi-Wan thought of the Temple that way, anymore, even in the past tense). He had a generous piece of land on a small, sparsely populated forest moon in the Mid-Rim, and on it, a house, somewhere between modest and extravagant. 

He’d bought the land under a false name, had paid the crew that built the house generously (and used a well placed mind trick, where needed) to make sure his safe haven remained as such. Almost no one knew he was there, and anyone who did didn’t know who he was. Exactly as Obi-Wan wanted it. 

Third, Obi-Wan set about gathering as much intel on Palpatine’s plans as he could. He kept his efforts quiet, called in every contact he’d made throughout his years of wandering and his time as Sidious’ so-called apprentice, and made a few new ones. He obtained copies of classified files, interviewed and subsequently mind-tricked low-level goons - no one important enough to have more than one piece of the puzzle or to even know what they had, but that made their lips all the looser. And with Obi-Wan behind the scenes, putting it all together, it was enough for him to compile a comprehensive dossier on Sidious’ plans. The clones. The droids. The coming war. The end goal of an Empire with Palpatine at the helm, the Republic crushed beneath his boot. 

And along the way, Obi-Wan took matters into his own hands and learned everything he could about the force, both dark and light. It turned out it wasn’t too difficult, when one wasn’t apprentice to a sadistic maniac hell-bent on keeping you ignorant. 

He visited Sith temples and picked up any useful-seeming texts between other missions, read them by the fireplace with a glass of Corellian whiskey when he had the time, and spent time communing with the force and practicing what he’d learned. And after six years he’d obtained a level of mastery in wielding the dark that rivalled his skills with the light. Obi-Wan drew from both, depending on his needs and the task at hand. The more time he spent in his self-study, the more Obi-Wan realized the divide between the light and dark was….

Illusory wasn’t the right word. As a Sith, Obi-Wan drew his strength from the darkness, from his own anger and pain and sense of righteous justice, even, and especially, when it meant violence. It felt different from his time as a Jedi; it tasted different. 

But the divide between the dark and the light was not as stark or as fundamental as both the Jedi and the Sith believed. It was, at its core, one Force - just tinged in different shades depending on how you used it. And Obi-Wan used it all. 

And so, Obi-Wan had spent his years on these aims with one ultimate goal in mind: to thwart as many of Palpatine’s plans as possible so he could spend the rest of his life being left the fuck alone. Obi-Wan had had enough - enough of the Jedi and their rigid, condescending ways, enough hiding, certainly enough of Sidious and his useless cruelty.

Obi-Wan had no great love for the Republic, but he didn’t want to spend the remainder of his days under an oppressive regime. Especially not one headed by a megalomaniacal despot who wanted him dead. 

And, he could admit a further motivation: he couldn’t let that monster take Anakin as his apprentice. Sweet Anakin, who talked to droids like they were sentients, who cried when Obi-Wan told him he was leaving. Anakin, who had already escaped the bonds of slavery once. 

Obi-Wan had seen first-hand how Sidious treated his apprentices. He had the scars to prove it. He would never let Sidious get his claws on Anakin. 

Six years of effort had brought Obi-Wan to his current plan. The time was ripe. By all accounts, Palpatine would take his first major steps in starting a galactic war soon, and Obi-Wan had amassed sufficient information on the Chancellor’s plots for anyone with access to sufficient resources to begin to undermine them. Resources Obi-Wan himself currently lacked. 

And Anakin was now nineteen - old enough that Sidious may begin to make more serious overtures to the boy if Obi-Wan did not intervene. 

Obi-Wan had been monitoring the situation for months. Anakin was now a senior padawan, and Obi-Wan’s intel indicated he would soon be sent on his first solo mission to the planet Kashyyyk. A simple diplomatic mission - a testing of the waters to see if the boy would soon be ready for his trials. 

Obi-Wan’s plan was simple: he would kidnap Anakin on Kashyyyk, when he was most vulnerable, away from the eyes of the Order for the first time. 

Obi-Wan would inform Anakin of the Chancellor’s plot - not only to wage a farcical war to bring the Republic to heel, but to make Anakin his apprentice. 

Obi-Wan would send Anakin back to Coruscant with an encrypted data chip carrying all of his carefully cultivated evidence. Even if Anakin himself doubted Obi-Wan’s claims, he’d be compelled to present it to the Council - and the information he had amassed would withstand any scrutiny the Council chose to subject it to. It was all there in blue and white basic; even the Jedi Council would not be able to dismiss his claims without at least beginning to investigate. 

And then, Obi-Wan could wash his hands of it and let the Jedi do the rest of his dirty work. He had no great faith in the Jedi or its Council, but surely even they must be smart enough to avoid being slaughtered by their own troops with years of advanced warning. And Obi-Wan would retain copies of everything in case he needed to disseminate the information more widely, involve more competent parties. 

The plan had been simple. Foolproof. But Obi-Wan didn’t account for one rogue factor: Anakin Skywalker. 

*                    *                    *

When Obi-Wan landed on Kashyyyk, he parked his ship near the center of the small village. A quick scan revealed that Anakin was inside one of the nearby huts, no doubt meeting with the elders of the village, as Obi-Wan’s surreptitiously obtained reports indicated he would be. 

Obi-Wan sent a quick, but potent, force suggestion out into the village. At this point in his practice as a force-user, his suggestions had an impressive range. The few Wookiees milling about the square dropped immediately. His senses told him the elders in the hut did the same. Only Anakin was spared this temporary sleep. 

A few moments later, a bewildered Anakin wandered out of the hut, looking shell-shocked as he took in the fallen bodies around him. Obi-Wan steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation. 

“Don’t worry - they’re only sleeping,” he assuaged the bewildered looking Anakin, revealing his presence for the first time. “But I’m afraid you’ll be coming with me, Padawan Skywalker,” he continued, pulling his lightsaber from his belt and preparing to brandish it. 

Anakin looked up at him - first in shock and anger, but then his features quickly settled into brief puzzlement and then recognition. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, awe lacing his voice. 

Obi-Wan watched him carefully. He hadn’t lit his saber - yet - but Obi-Wan still held it at the ready in his hand. Anakin had yet to draw his. 

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan affirmed. “It’s me.” He knew his eyes glowed yellow, surely a shock for the poor boy. Obi-Wan hadn’t purposefully constructed a dramatic reveal, really. But he wasn’t entirely opposed to one arising organically. “Happy to see me?” Obi-Wan asked sardonically, letting sarcasm color his tone. 

But to his surprise - the first of many, Obi-Wan was to find - Anakin’s face only broke out into a wide, eager grin. It looked boyish on him, belying the broadness of his shoulders, betraying that Anakin had only just begun to enter manhood. And it was entirely too handsome on him, Obi-Wan decided in a thought he flitted away as soon as it came. 

Anakin rushed forward and Obi-Wan braced for impact, his thumb a hair’s breadth away from igniting his saber, holding off only out of a desire that he not hurt Anakin if he could possibly avoid it. 

But instead of attacking, Anakin pulled a very surprised Obi-Wan into an embrace, the Sith lord stiffening as the boy wrapped eager arms around his neck. 

“Yes,” Anakin breathed hotly into the skin of Obi-Wan’s neck, answering the question Obi-Wan had meant to be rhetorical. “I’m so happy to see you,” he continued, still holding Obi-Wan tightly in his arms. Obi-Wan stayed frozen in the boy’s embrace, his lightsaber still held uselessly behind Anakin’s back. Was this some sort of trick? 

After a long moment, Anakin pulled away, his eyes darting to the sleek Nubian starship parked in the foliage behind them. “Is that your ship?” Anakin asked, his eyes raking over the smooth plating; wide, awed. 

“Yes, it is,” Obi-Wan supplied warily, feeling incredibly wrong-footed. 

“Wizard,” Anakin said under his breath, eyes still round with wonder. He dropped his arms and walked past Obi-Wan, apparently unconcerned by the unlit saber he brandished, and approached the ship. 

Obi-Wan, baffled, had no choice but to follow. This was the direction he wanted Anakin going in, he supposed. 

Obi-Wan tried to collect himself. He was a Sith lord. He had faced countless enemies and false friends in his decade of wandering, and had always come out victorious. He could still regain control of this situation. Surely. 

He steeled himself and followed Anakin. 

Anakin walked confidently to the ship and then up the open ramp - directly into the cockpit. Obi-Wan followed a few steps behind, still not having relinquished his hold on his saber hilt, yet. He approached the interior of the ship carefully, but Anakin had simply plunked down into the co-pilot seat, and was surveying the controls with the same content wonder. 

Could it really be so easy? 

Obi-Wan slid into the pilot’s seat, eyes cast sideways, carefully watching Anakin as he did so. Not one to look a gift horse too much in the mouth, he quickly hit the controls that slid the ramp closed. 

Finally, Anakin turned to him. “Where are we going?” he asked, his eyes still wide with boyish wonder. 

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin warily. “I - you’re not afraid of me?” he asked, knowing he shouldn’t. He should enter the coordinates and get them into hyperspace as quickly as possible, and then prepare to subdue Anakin if he put up a fight. The force-suppression cuffs Obi-Wan had hung on his belt jangled uselessly at his side - mocking him. 

Anakin gave him a baffled look - finally looking as puzzled as Obi-Wan felt. It filled Obi-Wan with a small sense of satisfaction. More equal footing, perhaps. 

“Why would I be afraid of you?” Anakin asked, as if the notion itself were ridiculous. 

Obi-Wan balked. He had not encountered a being in the past six years who had not regarded him with fear - other than those he’d targeted to persuade by other means than violence, of course - a thought which Obi-Wan quickly cast aside as entirely unhelpful to his current situation. 

“I - I’m a Sith, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, the feeling of wrong-footedness clinging to him like smoke from a deathstick. 

Anakin, at last, eyed him with a small measure of wariness. “Are you going to hurt me?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. The question was as childish, as naive, as his blind trust. 

Obi-Wan sighed. “No,” he said, honestly. He would never hurt Anakin. If pressed, he might subdue him, incapacitate him temporarily, as had been his original plan. But he would never hurt him. The thought occurred to Obi-Wan that it might be more prudent to make Anakin believe he would - that he was willing to, at least - but in the face of Anakin’s blunt earnestness he could do nothing but tell the truth. 

Anakin’s grin returned; the heartfelt promise of a Sith lord enough to quell any small concern he’d attempted to muster over his current situation. 

“Then let’s go,” Anakin said, relaxing back into his seat, broad shoulders and sharp-cornered still-gangly limbs folded into the co-pilot’s chair. 

Obi-Wan sighed again. He felt a headache coming on, pressing behind his eyes. Resigned to whatever strange situation this had come to, he entered the coordinates for his homestead. 

When they landed a few hours later, nothing about the situation had meaningfully changed - much to Obi-Wan’s surprise and with less relief than would have been expected at total cooperation from one’s kidnapping victim. 

They had spent the flight mostly in silence - Anakin casting Obi-Wan shy, sideways glances and eager smiles - with the occasional question breaking the quiet. 

“So where are we going?” Anakin asked, after his most recent blushing look towards the pilot’s chair. 

“My home,” Obi-Wan said, simply, not eager to give any more details away than he had to when the situation still felt entirely too precarious. 

“Wizard,” Anakin said quietly, smiling with obvious pleasure as he looked out at the stars that blurred past them. “Can I fly?” he asked excitedly, sitting up a bit in his chair to lean towards Obi-Wan. 

“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said dryly. Anakin slumped back in his seat, but instead of pouting, cast Obi-Wan a flushing mischievous look, as though they were sharing some kind of private joke. “Okay,” he accepted easily, another wide grin on his face. 

Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wondered what he had gotten himself into. 

As they entered Obi-Wan’s homestead, Anakin’s wide-eyed look of wonder returned. “You live here?” he asked, walking through the front door as Obi-Wan trailed warily behind him. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, trying not to let his discomfort show. Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring Anakin here. True, Anakin didn’t know where they were, really, and Obi-Wan had wanted to make sure they were somewhere safe where he could debrief Anakin and know they wouldn’t be interrupted. 

- But this was the first time Obi-Wan had let anyone other than himself into his home. He had brought Anakin into his safe haven, the only place in the galaxy he could let his guard down. 

“It’s nice,” Anakin mused, craning his neck to take in the wide windows flooding the front room with light, the paintings Obi-Wan had chosen to line the walls. 

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan responded, subtly turning to arm the security system behind them while Anakin had his back turned. They weren’t locked in, per se, but Obi-Wan would be alerted if Anakin tried to leave. He couldn’t be too careful, even if Anakin was going along with Obi-Wan, for now. After all, a Sith never lets down his guard completely. 

When Obi-Wan turned back around, Anakin had sprawled comfortably onto one of the white couches in the wide living room, belly-up like a loth-wolf pup. Obi-Wan sighed. Perhaps the force was mocking him. 

“Are you hungry?” Obi-Wan asked, approaching the couch to stand over Anakin, hands on his hips, clinging to the illusion of control. Anakin grinned up at him, arms tucked easily behind his head. Obi-Wan resolutely ignored the way it showed off his broad shoulders and trim, tapered waist. 

“Starving,” Anakin said, still smiling. “The food on Kashyyyk is terrible.” With another long-suffering sigh, Obi-Wan walked to the kitchen to tell the cooking droid to get started. 

*                    *                    *

Obi-Wan surveyed the situation with resigned wariness as they sat down for dinner. When he staged this plan, he’d imagined leading a reluctant Anakin to the table - shackling his force suppression cuffs to the arms of his heavy wooden chair - receiving an angry glare from the boy as Obi-Wan dramatically laid out a feast for his captive audience - building suspense and maybe engendering a small amount of trust before he revealed the truth about Palpatine to his guest. 

Instead, an eager and bright-eyed Anakin plunked willingly down into his chair, happily surveying the spread of dishes the droid had prepared. Instead of amiably gloating as he coaxed a resistant prisoner to eat, Obi-Wan had spent the past hour fielding endless questions from Anakin about his house, his droid, the food they’d be eating. 

Obi-Wan was suspicious - or rather he wanted to be. He knew he should be. This could be a trick, a trap, designed to lower his defenses and lure him into a false sense of security before Anakin finally made a move against him. 

But met with Anakin’s earnest curiosity, his trusting, wide eyes - the same piercing blue they’d been when he was a nine-year-old asking Obi-Wan if he could hold his lightsaber - Obi-Wan found it difficult to muster any amount of skepticism. Anakin had offered to tune up his cooking droid, for force sake. 

And so, it was with the weariness of someone who’s day has gone entirely off track that Obi-Wan finally sat down to dinner with his very willing charge. 

The table was spread with a modest but well-prepared feast. After years of scrounging, Obi-Wan had developed an appreciation for food as something more than merely a means to survive. The dishes were seasoned with spices from across the galaxy, favorites of Obi-Wan’s that he kept the kitchen stocked for, but perhaps more indulgent than if he was dining alone. Again, he was not above a small touch of dramatics. 

A bottle of fine Chandrillan wine stood amidst the trays of steaming food. “Can I have wine?” Anakin asked, turning to Obi-Wan. His words were casual, but belied by thinly veiled excitement as he eyed the sweating bottle. 

Obi-Wan blinked. “Yes?” he said, feeling wrong-footed again, reaching for the empty goblet at Anakin’s setting and filling the glass with the dark liquid. Anakin was nineteen, wasn’t he? Obi-Wan had already been sneaking down to the lower levels to do ill-advised shots of glowing liquor with the other senior padawans when he was Anakin’s age. Yet the boy’s question had been so hesitantly polite - so cautiously hopeful. 

He placed the glass in front of Anakin, who grasped the stem with long fingers and took a sip. Obi-Wan decidedly did not notice the long, tanned line of his throat as his head tipped back, or the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. 

Anakin placed the glass back down, wiping at shiny lips with the back of his hand, and turned back to Obi-Wan with a shy grin, blinking coyly up at him with doe eyes. 

This was going to be a very long night. 

After dinner, Obi-Wan felt he had barely survived with his sanity intact. He’d put up an admirable effort at clinging to it, at least. 

Perhaps Obi-Wan shouldn’t have been surprised that Anakin Skywalker would throw a wrench in his plans. Even as a child, the boy had been a force to be reckoned with: overwhelmingly loud and powerful in the force, emotional and deeply sensitive, charmingly - or perhaps disarmingly - perceptive beyond his nine years. 

And now, well, he wasn’t a child anymore. But Anakin remained a delightfully maddening whirlwind. He was brash and jarringly candid, plagued with the awkwardness of a young adult on the cusp of finding their center. He was clearly doing his very best to embody the manners, the diplomacy, that had no doubt been drilled into him as part of his Jedi training. The mantle didn’t quite fit him yet - like an oversized coat, still too long in the sleeves - but the promise that he’d grow into it soon came in glimpses of maturity, gone as soon as they came. 

And he was still so very sweet. It warmed a small, sacred part of Obi-Wan’s heart to see that that particular trait had not yet been stamped out of the boy he’d left behind. If Obi-Wan had anything to say about it, it never would be. 

Obi-Wan did his best to field Anakin’s questions as they ate. He demurred where he didn’t want to share - what he’d been up to for the last ten years, namely - and Anakin accepted his rejections, but with an air of curiosity that indicated a battle not yet entirely abandoned. Obi-Wan would tell him - most of it at least - later. 

And all the while, Anakin batted his eyelashes and looked at Obi-Wan with shy smiles and flushed cheeks, and Obi-Wan did his very best to ignore the feeling that was growing in the pit of his stomach, horrified that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant - or unwelcome. 

At last, when they’d eaten their fill, when the dishes had been cleared by the droid and Anakin’s lips were stained a charming purple from the wine, Obi-Wan led them to his study. A fire was already roaring in the hearth, and Obi-Wan settled into one of the plush armchairs by its side, gesturing to Anakin to take the other. 

“There’s something important I need to speak with you about, Anakin,” he said, stroking his beard. The issue of how to present the truth to Anakin had weighed heavily on him. It was, in a sense, the culmination of his life’s work - the last decade of it, at least. And Obi-Wan himself was so deeply entrenched in the weeds, in parsing the fine details of Palpatine’s expansive plans. Obi-Wan needed to make sure he painted the big picture first. War. Slaughter. The fall of the Jedi and the rise of an empire. A Sith (well, another Sith) who had Anakin in his cross-hairs. 

As Obi-Wan fretted, Anakin hovered nearby, at first nodding and approaching the chair Obi-Wan had gestured to, before pausing. Anakin turned, and then somewhat awkwardly walked back over to Obi-Wan. He seemed to consider for a stilted moment and then climbed into Obi-Wan’s lap, straddling Obi-Wan’s thighs in the generous seat of the velvet chair. 

Obi-Wan startled at the weight - and the proximity - with a surprised oof. 

Well. The best laid plans and all that. 

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan said carefully, too taken aback to say anything else. His hand hovered on its journey down from his beard, the terrain of Anakin’s hips too close, too inviting - too natural for him to grab in their current…position. 

Anakin, for his part, looked sheepishly pleased, a shy, smug grin on his wine-stained lips. Like the loth-cat that ate the caranak. 

Seemingly satisfied that Obi-Wan was, at the very least, not going to push him away, Anakin snuggled closer in lieu of answering, leaning down to nuzzle at Obi-Wan timidly in a one-sided sort of hug. Obi-Wan capitulated, dropping a tentative hand to a safe spot at the side of Anakin’s hip. 

“I missed you, you know” Anakin said softly, nervously, at Obi-Wan’s ear. “I knew you’d come back for me someday. Even after they said you couldn’t train me. I could feel it in the force.” 

Obi-Wan would not have thought he could grow more shocked by Anakin’s words, but he was quickly reacquainting himself with the agent of chaos that was Anakin Skywalker. 

“Did you,” Obi-Wan said judiciously, the situation too unpredictable, too precarious to say anything else. Which part of Anakin’s statement he referred to remained ambiguous. 

“Mmhmm,” Anakin simply affirmed, still tucked into the side of Obi-Wan’s neck. Despite his relaxed posture, tension remained in his lithe frame, as if he worried Obi-Wan still might push him off. Obi-Wan felt frozen, afraid to move either closer or further away. 

“I missed how you feel in the force, too. You feel the same,” Anakin continued softly, almost dreamily. This surprised Obi-Wan further, though it was at least something he felt he could safely respond to. 

“I’m a Sith now,” Obi-Wan countered. Surely his signature must be changed - twisted, shadowed by his years in the dark. 

Anakin sat up just enough to be able to look at Obi-Wan again. He shrugged. “You feel the same to me,” he said simply. His eyes were wide and earnest, and dipped briefly down to Obi-Wan’s mouth. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said again, a hint of warning bleeding through this time. His hand was still treacherously curled around Anakin’s hip. 

Anakin only shuffled closer at the admonishment, bringing his arms up to wrap behind Obi-Wan’s head, his wrists delicately perched on Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “What?” Anakin said. His tone was playful but carried a nervous waiver. “Like you said, you’re a Sith. Aren’t you supposed to be all about giving in to your passions?” he challenged. His fingers fiddled nervously with the long hairs at the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. 

Obi-Wan had to stifle a groan at the words - and the increased proximity. His cock stirred traitorously where Anakin’s move had pressed their groins more closely together. He swallowed thickly, fighting, as he had all day, to maintain control of the situation. 

Was this a trick? A distraction? He stealthily felt out Anakin in the force, searching for any hint of subterfuge. But instead of any indication that Anakin was deceiving him, he was met only with overwhelming desire radiating in the force. 

Anakin wasn’t lying, just…very horny. Ah. 

“And what would you know about giving in to passions, little Jedi?” he challenged in turn, unable to resist the thrill of the verbal spar. His head was clouded by the lovely vision Anakin made in his lap, the warm press of his body against Obi-Wan’s. 

Anakin huffed. “I know plenty,” he said. It was an obvious bluff, but endearing nonetheless. Obi-Wan felt his resolve crumbling in the face of Anakin’s intense, if unpracticed, overtures, the heady waves of want radiating from him. He was a very pretty thing. And Obi-Wan was only a man. 

“Is that so,” Obi-Wan parried. He finally gave in and lifted his other hand to rest on Anakin’s hip, gripping gently on either side. “Why don’t you show me,” he goaded. 

Anakin whimpered softly, a delicious sound. He brought his forehead to rest against Obi-Wan’s. “Yes, Master,” Anakin breathed, before crossing the final inches to press their lips together. 

Obi-Wan growled at the title, at the eager press of Anakin’s hot, wine-sweet mouth against his. He returned the kiss hungrily, opening his mouth to welcome the brush of Anakin’s tongue against his. He slid his hands to grip at the taut muscle of Anakin’s ass and felt an unmistakable bulge begin to rut against his own. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whimpered, the boy’s hips beginning to move, seeking friction as their kiss continued to heat. “Please,” he begged. 

Who was Obi-Wan to deny such tender pleas? He was a Sith, after all. He liked taking what he wanted. Especially when what he wanted wanted him so much in return. 

Obi-Wan stood up, picking up Anakin along with him, who easily wrapped his long legs around Obi-Wan’s waist. 

His news would keep until morning. 

In the dim light of the bedroom, Obi-Wan deposited Anakin gently onto the bed, the boy melting into a boneless puddle on the blanket. Obi-Wan joined him, holding himself up by his arms to hover over the sweet, trembling mess. 

“Do you know what you’re asking for, darling?” Obi-Wan asked, sliding a thumb to rub at the hot skin that peeked out beneath Anakin’s tunic. Anakin was incredibly precious to him, the bright spot of light he’d kept in the back of his head for the past ten years. He would give Anakin what he wanted - but he had to be sure. 

“Yes, yes,” Anakin moaned, lifting his hands to begin to pull clumsily at Obi-Wan’s clothes. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you,” he continued breathlessly. “When I saw you again -” Anakin cut himself off, lifting off the bed to press his wet mouth again to Obi-Wan’s. 

Obi-Wan, ignoring some of the more alarming implications of Anakin’s statement, decided to take pity on the boy and began to deftly remove the swaths of Jedi robes he was wrapped in. The muscle memory came easily to him, removing the belt, the tabards, gently helping Anakin slip his tunic up and over his head. 

When Anakin was only in his trousers, arousal tenting obviously at his groin, Obi-Wan left him to his own devices and began removing his own clothes. 

Finally, they were both bare. Anakin reached for him greedily, and the press of his hot skin against Obi-Wan’s was almost too much to bear. Their mouths found each other again, a hot, slick slide of lips and tongues. Anakin’s cock bobbed hard between them, dusky pink and tempting, but Obi-Wan had other plans. 

Obi-Wan maneuvered them until Anakin was on his stomach on the bed, his padawan braid hanging in a tantalizing line down his back. 

Obi-Wan was no blushing virgin. He’d spent his first years out of the Order burying his grief in the bodies of a handful of different sentients across the galaxy - and vice versa. It had happened less frequently in recent years - with a few entirely un-noteworthy exceptions - but still. He’d had his fair share of partners, his fair share of experiences in his thirty-five years. 

But none of them compared to the broad expanse of smooth, golden skin that was now before him. Anakin was a vision - all long, lean muscle, broad shoulders tapering down to a slender waist - spread out in front of Obi-Wan like a feast. 

He began kissing at the back of Anakin’s neck and then trailed downwards, pressing hot lips to smooth skin as he traveled down the glorious road of his spine. Anakin let out a series of soft sighs and whimpers at the touch, and Obi-Wan thrilled at his sensitivity, his unabashed vocality. When Obi-Wan got to the dimples of his lower back, he lifted Anakin’s hips. 

He continued his ministrations, pressing a wet kiss into the globe of Anakin’s cheek. Obi-Wan wanted to bite but he held back - for now. He grasped Anakin’s ass in his hands, and pressed his thumbs to gently pull his cheeks apart. His mouth almost watered at the display of a pert pink hole in front of him. 

Obi-Wan was just about to lean down and lick when Anakin turned around. “Wait,” he said shyly. “I haven’t - nobody’s ever,” he continued, his cheeks flushed with arousal. 

“Eaten you out?” Obi-Wan asked amusedly. He wasn’t surprised. Many padawans experimented with sex, but something like rimming would be more common with a more, ah, seasoned partner. 

Anakin blushed further. “Yes, I mean no, but -” he worried at his lip nervously, distractingly. “I haven’t done anything,” he admitted. 

Oh. 

“Oh, darling,” Obi-Wan said, softly stroking at the flesh of Anakin’s ass. “You’ve never been touched?” 

Anakin shook his head, looking embarrassed, as if this might make Obi-Wan change his mind. Not likely. Something thick and possessive stirred in Obi-Wan’s gut. At the same time, it made his touch all the more reverent, made Anakin all the more precious. 

Obi-Wan moved from his position between Anakin’s legs to lie beside him on the bed. He pressed his mouth to Anakin’s softly pouting lips in a chaste kiss. 

“That’s alright, Anakin,” he said quietly, “we don’t have to-” 

“No!” Anakin protested. “I want to - I really want to,” he emphasized hurriedly, as if Obi-Wan was about to put his clothes back on and walk away. “I just - wanted you to know,” he finished, looking at Obi-Wan with wide, pleading eyes. 

Such a sweet little thing. So earnest, so trusting. He had wandered straight onto Obi-Wan’s ship and into his bed like a little lost pup. 

Obi-Wan reached up to cup Anakin’s cheek in his palm, pressed another gentle kiss to the smooth skin of his forehead. “Thank you for telling me, darling,” he said, continuing the dusting of kisses over Anakin’s brow, down the bridge of his nose, feeling Anakin relax beneath his touch. “I’ll take very good care of you, I promise,” he whispered, leaving another kiss at the corner of Anakin’s plush lips. 

Anakin nodded, his eyes closed dreamily at the soft touches. “I trust you,” he breathed. With a final kiss to Anakin’s mouth, Obi-Wan slid back to his position between Anakin’s legs, breath hitching as Anakin obediently lifted his ass back into the air. Such a very good boy. Obi-Wan trailed a hand down Anakin’s spine and delighted in the way Anakin shuddered. 

He found himself again faced with a lovely view of Anakin’s ass. He kissed his way closer to the tight ring, lifted a hand to rub a dry finger gently against Anakin’s hole. 

“Do you touch yourself here?” he asked, as Anakin keened at the touch. “Y-yes,” Anakin said, wriggling his hips sweetly. “I thought - I thought about you,” he added between whimpers. 

Obi-Wan groaned. Anakin was going to be the death of him. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he leaned down at last to swipe the flat of his tongue over the puckered skin. Anakin moaned, a sound Obi-Wan wanted to remember for the rest of his life. 

Obi-Wan continued licking until the tight muscle had relaxed enough for him to wiggle his tongue inside. Anakin keened and writhed deliciously, pushing his hips back to force Obi-Wan’s tongue further inside him. From anyone else, it would have been rude. But this was Anakin. 

Obi-Wan groaned, kissing and licking at Anakin’s hole like it was a mouth. “Obi-Wan, Master,” Anakin keened, pushing his hips back further, seeking more stimulation. Anakin’s use of the title again sent a hot spike of arousal through Obi-Wan. 

“I’ve got you, padawan,” he said, his voice rough with arousal, almost choking on the word. He pulled lube from the drawer by his bed with the force, unwilling to part from Anakin long enough to fetch it himself. 

Obi-Wan coated a few fingers generously and brought a wet fingertip to pet gently at Anakin’s now-relaxed hole. “Yes, yes,” Anakin breathed, bucking his hips back into the touch. He pushed a finger in up to the first knuckle, letting out another groan at the tight velvet that sucked him in. His rimming had loosened Anakin a little, but he was still tight and hot like a vice. 

Obi-Wan began sliding his finger in and out, pushing in a bit further on every pass, pulling more breathless moans from the boy falling apart beneath his hands. After a minute he had made enough room to wiggle a second finger in, beginning to stretch Anakin’s tight walls. He crooked his fingers, and after a little bit of exploring, pressed against a spot that made Anakin wail. 

“Yes, oh, yes,” Anakin moaned. He was rocking his hips back, fucking himself on Obi-Wan’s fingers. “Please, Obi-Wan, I’m not going to last -” Anakin begged, his voice thick from where his head was buried in Obi-Wan’s pillows. 

Obi-Wan himself was achingly hard, his cock neglected and dripping between his legs as he fingered Anakin open. But he wasn’t small. He had to make this a good experience for Anakin, he would never forgive himself if he hurt him. 

“Alright, darling, almost there,” Obi-Wan crooned, slipping a third finger in to try and hurry things along. After a few more minutes of careful preparation - and Anakin moaning and wailing deliciously into the bed - his hole was wet and open enough to begin taking Obi-Wan’s cock. 

Obi-Wan withdrew his fingers carefully, taking a brief moment to admire the wet wink of Anakin’s now-relaxed hole. He slid himself up Anakin’s body until he hovered behind him, arms bracketing either side of Anakin’s shoulders. Obi-Wan leaned down to press a hot kiss to the side of Anakin’s neck, and Anakin turned his head sweetly, seeking to capture the kiss with his mouth instead. 

Obi-Wan indulged him, because how could he do anything else, and licked tenderly into Anakin’s mouth, nibbled at his plush lip softly. 

“Ready, dear one?” he asked. They could certainly stop here, if Anakin wanted. Obi-Wan had a feeling Anakin would have no trouble coming from his fingers alone. But Anakin nodded, eyes still closed dreamily from the kiss, lips shiny with spit. “Yes, Master,” he breathed. He lifted his hips up to rut his ass against Obi-Wan’s cock, making them both groan at the contact. And so with a final peck to Anakin’s cheek, Obi-Wan sat back. He slicked up his cock with more lube and began to slowly push into Anakin’s tight hole. 

Obi-Wan groaned at the slow push inside, the tight squeeze of Anakin around him. “You’re so good for me padawan,” he growled, brushing a comforting hand across Anakin’s hip, “so perfect, you feel so good,” he continued. Anakin whimpered and keened, at both the praise and the swell of Obi-Wan’s cock as it pressed past his prostate. 

After a few torturous moments of waiting, Obi-Wan began to move slowly. As he built a gentle, steady rhythm, he marveled at Anakin laid out beneath him. His hips were still raised to meet Obi-Wan’s, and his back curved elegantly down to where his chest rested on Obi-Wan’s bed. His arms were crossed beneath Obi-Wan’s pillows where his face was buried, showing off the broad expanse of his shoulders. He let out sweet little moans with every thrust. 

What a glorious gift from the force Anakin was, all for Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan increased his pace as sweat began to drip down his chest. He knew he wouldn’t last long, either - had been hard since Anakin had climbed into his lap, all through the aching pleasure of licking and fingering Anakin open. He sensed Anakin’s pleasure beginning to crest, too, his moans growing louder as Obi-Wan fucked into him harder, gripping at his hips. 

It occurred to him that he wanted to watch Anakin come, wanted to relish in watching his face as he came undone on Obi-Wan’s cock. He pulled out, eliciting a wet whimper from the boy, and gently flipped him over onto his back. 

Obi-Wan was surprised - and briefly horrified - to see tears on Anakin’s face. He felt him out in the force, but sensed no pain, only overwhelming, burning pleasure. 

Anakin felt his prodding and reciprocated with a heady swell. He clung tightly to Obi-Wan in the force, sending searching tendrils out to wrap around him, twining their signatures together. Obi-Wan hadn’t let anyone come this close to him in the force for years - not since his bond with Qui-Gon, probably. 

Instead of rebuffing him, Obi-Wan let Anakin cling. He leaned down to kiss his tear-wet lips as he pushed back inside the warm clutch of his hole. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whined, eyes glazed over with pleasure. Obi-Wan resumed his pace, Anakin’s legs wrapped sweetly around either side of his hips. Anakin’s cock hung untouched, hard and weeping between his legs, bobbing with every thrust. 

“Do you think you can come just from my cock?” Obi-Wan asked in a breathless growl. He was close himself, the hot grip of Anakin making the familiar heat grow in his belly. 

“Yes,” Anakin moaned. “Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan fell forward again, leaning down over Anakin, held up by his arms planted on either side of his shoulders. Unable to resist, Obi-Wan wrapped a hand possessively around Anakin’s padawan braid. 

“Come for me, padawan,” he groaned between thrusts. “Come for your Master,” 

He gave a gentle tug on the thin braid, and with a few more thrusts Anakin was coming with a cry, hot streaks landing across his stomach and up his chest. The sight tipped Obi-Wan over the edge, and he came with a groan, filling Anakin’s ass with a few more haphazard thrusts. 

He collapsed onto Anakin, the strand of braided hair still wrapped in his sweating hand, both of their chests heaving as they came down from their collective high. They were still wrapped tightly together in the force, their entwined signatures glowing and pulsing with pleasure. 

Obi-Wan dotted Anakin’s face with tender kisses, wiping the tears away with his thumb. After a few moments he pulled out, and Anakin whined at the loss. 

“Just going to clean us up, darling,” Obi-Wan reassured him, his voice hoarse. He padded to the bathroom to retrieve a wet cloth and returned, gently wiping at the streaks on Anakin’s stomach, at his hole dripping with cum and lube. 

Considering the clean-up good enough until morning, Obi-Wan sidled back into bed with Anakin, scooping the still-trembling boy into his arms. He kissed him, again, tenderly cradling him as Anakin came back down to the planet. 

Slowly, Anakin’s breathing steadied, his eyes regaining focus as Obi-Wan kissed and caressed him softly. 

“Was that alright?” Obi-Wan asked tentatively, stroking the soft skin of Anakin’s shoulder. He tried not to let his nerves bleed into the words. In the afterglow, Obi-Wan worried he’d perhaps been too impulsive in taking Anakin to bed. He was so very young, after all. 

But Anakin only snuggled up further into Obi-Wan, nuzzling his face into the sweat-slick skin of Obi-Wan’s neck. “It was wizard,” Anakin sighed dreamily, and Obi-Wan suppressed a chuckle. Well, for a first time, he would settle for wizard. 

“I’m very glad,” Obi-Wan sighed in return, brushing a hand up and down Anakin’s back, the two still tangled together in Obi-Wan’s sheets. They were silent for a few minutes, settling into a sleepy sort of post-coital haze. 

Just when Obi-Wan thought Anakin might have fallen asleep, he spoke again. 

“I wish you were really my master,” Anakin breathed into the skin of Obi-Wan’s neck. He sounded tentative, some of his shyness from before returning. 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan said carefully, still drawing a lazy hand up and down Anakin’s spine. 

“Mmhmm,” Anakin affirmed. “Master Windu is great, but…sometimes I feel like he doesn’t really understand me,” he mused, a fingertip tracing softly over Obi-Wan’s chest hair. “I feel like you would have,” he concluded sleepily. 

Obi-Wan’s throat felt tight. How many nights had he spent wondering what would have happened if he’d been granted permission to train Anakin? Wondering if he’d have been a good enough master for the Chosen One. And here he was - putting his blind trust in Obi-Wan again and again. The boy couldn’t know it, but he’d struck Obi-Wan at his core. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. 

“I would certainly have endeavored to,” he finally answered. Anakin only hummed happily in response, sidling himself even closer to Obi-Wan’s side. 

Anakin fell asleep soon after, cradled gently in Obi-Wan’s arms. Obi-Wan’s thoughts kept him awake a while longer - worries over Anakin, the truth he still had to reveal to the boy in the morning - before he too finally succumbed to slumber, still holding Anakin tightly.  

*                    *                    *

In the morning, Obi-Wan awoke to the wriggling of a warm body pressed against his. It had been a while - years - since he hadn’t woken up alone. There was warm skin beneath his palms, something hot and hard pressed against his hip. The events of yesterday came back to him as he blinked his eyes open. 

And there was Anakin before him, warm golden skin, blue eyes already wide awake, smiling shyly as the boy blinked up at him. Anakin, who had not tried to leave in the night. Anakin, whose virginity he had taken the night before. Obi-Wan cleared his throat. 

“Good morning,” he rasped. 

“Good morning,” Anakin replied coyly. He was hard, again, snuggling into Obi-Wan’s side, his body warm and humid and so very close under the covers. Obi-Wan, human at his core, slid a hand down to cup at the swell of Anakin’s ass. 

“How did you sleep?” Obi-Wan asked, palming at the smooth, supple flesh. 

“Mm, good,” Anakin replied, in a sweet, sleep-soaked voice. “I thought maybe we could…again?” he offered shyly, rutting a little against Obi-Wan’s hip. 

Obi-Wan stifled a groan. Anakin’s cock was velvet-smooth against Obi-Wan’s skin, and Obi-Wan was struck with the thought that he hadn’t touched it at all the night before. A problem that he should surely rectify. 

But…the part of Obi-Wan that still remembered he had a mission, forcedamnit, rallied against the sweet temptation Anakin was offering. If he let himself get further…distracted…now, it was likely Obi-Wan could continue putting it off forever, with a sweet, urging Anakin in his bed. With great reluctance, Obi-Wan slid his hips backwards, placing a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder. 

“Perhaps later,” he said, as much for his own wishful thinking as it was for Anakin’s benefit. “But Anakin, I meant what I said last night, there is something very important I need to speak to you about,” he continued. 

Maybe something in his voice gave the gravity of his words away, because Anakin, mercifully, stilled his pursuits. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, nodding as his brow adopted a serious furrow, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but press a kiss to his forehead. 

They showered (separately, because even Obi-Wan’s will-power had its limits) and ate a simple breakfast laid out by the cooking droid. Afterwards, Obi-Wan led Anakin back to his study - this time judiciously avoiding the plush armchairs by the fireplace in favor of plunking Anakin down in his desk chair. 

Obi-Wan crossed the space to stand across the desk from Anakin, loading a data chip into the holoprojector. Anakin was watching him with another serious, expectant look, clearly sensing the tension in Obi-Wan. He took a deep breath. 

“Anakin,” he began. “There are…things you don’t know. I’ve spent the last six years gathering information on - “ he paused to collect his words. “-a plot. A plot to overthrow the Republic and eliminate the Jedi. I have files that prove everything I’m about to tell you.” 

Well, almost everything. Palpatine’s plan to make Anakin his apprentice wasn’t recorded anywhere, Sidious had simply spoken of this plan often throughout Obi-Wan’s year at his side. Anakin would just have to trust him on that point. And hopefully, with proof backing up everything else, he would. 

Anakin’s eyes widened with alarm at Obi-Wan’s words. “A plot?” His brows began to furrow, an angry expression clouding his features. “But how - who?” he asked. 

Obi-Wan took another deep breath. This was not going to be easy. From what Obi-Wan had gathered through his intel, Palpatine had become something of a mentor to Anakin, perhaps even a friend. He just hoped Anakin could forgive him for the news he was about to deliver. 

He steeled himself. “The Chancellor of the Republic. Sheev Palpatine, or as I knew him - Darth Sidious.” 

All in all, it had gone as well as could be expected, Obi-Wan thought. Anakin had been incredulous at Obi-Wan’s words, initially, disbelieving. “No,” Anakin had breathed, “no, he can’t - it can’t be. He’s - he’s my friend, he wouldn’t -” 

Obi-Wan waited patiently as Anakin talked himself through his initial confusion and hurt, silently beginning to pull up various files for Anakin to review, files that had Palpatine’s sticky fingerprints all over them. 

Gradually, as Anakin’s eyes scanned the blue of the holoprojections, denial gave way to muted, betrayed horror, and eventually - anger. 

“How could he? That sleemo,” Anakin ranted, pacing the room with hot tears building in his eyes, naked hurt poorly concealed by boiling anger. “I trusted him. I told him things,” he continued. Thankfully, Anakin’s anger had not turned on Obi-Wan. But they weren’t quite done yet. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said carefully, and the boy looked up at him, temporarily distracted from his wild pacing, as if he’d forgotten Obi-Wan was there. “There’s more,” he began. 

Anakin’s eyes widened again, tears still threatening to fall, but he nodded, seeming to collect himself enough to sit back down in the chair he’d been occupying. “I was Sidious’ apprentice for a year, shortly after I left the Order. That’s how I first learned about his plans. You were just a boy, then, but he was already planning…” Obi-Wan briefly faltered before finding his words. “Anakin, he plans to take you as his apprentice, eventually. A Jedi as powerful as you…he wants you at his side, when these horrors unfold,” he finally spat out, a hand gesturing to the files still being projected. 

Currently rotating above them was a model of the organic chips the clone armies housed - the secret weapon Sidious planned to detonate to rid the galaxy of the Jedi forever. 

Anakin’s expression was blank with shock, and then began to twist with further horror and anger. 

“He’s likely already begun to try and sway you, getting you to trust him, undermining your faith in the Republic - the Jedi,” Obi-Wan continued. A brief, mildly guilty look flitted across Anakin’s features. 

“I - he did, sometimes - I mean, he seemed to like it when I would complain. About Mace, or about the Council pissing me off,” Anakin said, like he was admitting something, his eyes dropping to the floor. “But I didn’t mean it, really,” Anakin added, looking up at Obi-Wan pleadingly with wet eyes. 

“Anakin, it’s alright,” Obi-Wan said, crossing the room to stand by Anakin’s chair, dropping a hand to his shoulder. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m only telling you this so you know. I would imagine he’s been manipulating you from the beginning.” 

Obi-Wan knew how Sidious operated. He taunted and enticed with carefully calculated half-truths, until you found yourself suddenly holding a knife against your own throat. 

Anakin’s expression darkened with hurt and anger and guilt. “I would never help him, I wouldn’t -” Anakin ruminated. He rose from his seat again and resumed his pacing. 

“How dare he,” he ranted. “I trusted him!” Obi-Wan sensed fear beginning to creep into the mix of overwhelming emotions already swirling around Anakin. 

“I wouldn’t have,” Anakin said again, as if he were convincing himself. “I would never have helped him,” the tears that had been pooling in Anakin’s eyes finally began to fall. His force signature was unstable - radiating a cocktail of negative emotions, roiling like an ocean in a storm. 

Oh dear. 

Obi-Wan needed to calm Anakin down before he spiraled further. “Anakin,” he said carefully, approaching him and placing a tentative hand on his arm to try and disrupt the frantic pacing. 

Anakin rounded on him wildly, and Obi-Wan had the brief fear that perhaps he would have to subdue Anakin, after all. But instead of lashing out, Anakin only crumpled into Obi-Wan’s arms, burying hot tears into Obi-Wan’s neck as he sobbed. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin wailed mournfully, emotions still rolling off of him in heavy waves. Obi-Wan brought his arms up to wrap around Anakin, began murmuring any soothing thing he could think of as Anakin cried. 

After a few minutes, Anakin had calmed, somewhat. His sobs had slowed to wet hiccups and while he was nowhere near balanced in the force, the raging storm of emotions had settled from a squall to a drizzle. 

“It will be alright, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “When you get back to Coruscant -” 

Anakin straightened with a start at the words, cutting Obi-Wan off. 

“You’re...you’re sending me back?” Anakin asked, looking so heartbroken that Obi-Wan felt as though he’d kicked a puppy. Anakin’s eyes threatened tears again. 

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, once again thrown for a loop by Anakin’s reaction. “Don’t you…want to go back?” he asked. “To tell the Council about this? To show them?” 

Anakin looked down, shuffling awkwardly. “I guess so,” he said, sounding unbearably sad. He finally looked up at Obi-Wan with plaintive, wet eyes. He looked so pitiful it filled Obi-Wan with a desperate desire to fix it. 

And so Obi-Wan did the only thing he could think to do and took him to bed. 

Which was how Obi-Wan found himself a few minutes later with Anakin spread out beneath him, tunic rucked up and trousers pulled down, with Anakin’s lovely cock fucking into his mouth. It was hard and flush and velvety soft, and Obi-Wan groaned as Anakin’s hips bucked, pushing his length further down Obi-Wan’s throat. 

“S-sorry,” Anakin breathed as Obi-Wan choked a little around the intrusion, pulling off just enough to catch his breath and give Anakin a few firm tugs with his hand. 

“It’s quite alright, darling,” Obi-Wan replied, voice hoarse. He lowered his head back down onto Anakin’s cock, only for Anakin’s hips to jolt up again involuntarily with a moan. 

It was borderline rude, really, but if anything, Obi-Wan was further aroused by the way Anakin, in his helpless, inexperienced desire, was using his mouth. 

Obi-Wan imagined what it would be like to have Anakin take him. He pictured the boy fucking into his hole with the same selfish eagerness, ignoring Obi-Wan’s cock and chasing his own release without a thought for Obi-Wan’s pleasure. The thought had Obi-Wan rutting his own hard cock down onto the bed beneath him, picturing Anakin using him like a toy - 

Obi-Wan was pulled out of his fantasy by Anakin releasing unexpectedly into his throat with a helpless whimper. He choked a little bit, again, as he tried to swallow it all down. As he sputtered some excess dripped out of his mouth, getting caught in the wiry hairs of his beard. 

“Sorry,” Anakin whimpered again, as Obi-Wan wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic. Obi-Wan looked up to find him red-faced and sheepish. 

“It’s alright, Anakin, I promise,” Obi-Wan said once he had recovered enough to use his voice. He leaned down to kiss the soft, downy-haired skin of Anakin’s stomach. 

Obi-Wan watched with satisfaction as Anakin’s chest rose and fell with more even breaths as he lay sprawled out on the bed, the tears on his face dried - smug that his efforts had worked to calm the boy down. Not a method of emotional regulation the Jedi would approve of, surely. But Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi. 

“Can I ride you?” Anakin asked after a moment. 

Well. A little more…emotional regulation couldn’t hurt. 

*                    *                    *

They ate a quiet dinner. Going over everything with Anakin - and their other activities - had taken up the better part of the day, and the sun had already set on the moon when they sat down once again at the long table. 

Anakin especially was quiet. There had been no more episodes of upset from the padawan - no more roiling, biting emotions spilling out into the force, but he was subdued. He was no longer peppering Obi-Wan with questions as he’d done the night before, instead seeming thoughtful and withdrawn. 

“Are you alright, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked carefully, placing a hand atop Anakin’s on the table. He didn’t want to pry, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty, his sharing the truth with Anakin undoubtedly the source of the boy’s changed mood. 

Anakin gave Obi-Wan a wan smile. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine, Obi-Wan. Just…thinking,” he replied. 

Well, Obi-Wan had certainly given him a lot to think about. Obi-Wan returned Anakin’s smile with what he hoped was a supportive one of his own, and withdrew his hand with a final pat. 

The rest of their dinner passed mostly in silence. It wasn’t tense, per se, or awkward, but it was somewhat heavy - burdened by the knowledge they now shared, altered by the intimacy between the two. 

Anakin would depart for Coruscant in the morning, carrying a datachip that held all of the files Obi-Wan had gathered, every shred of proof he had against Sidious. The culmination of the last ten years of Obi-Wan’s life, held delicately in Anakin’s broad palm. 

When it was time to retire for the night, Obi-Wan didn’t object when Anakin followed behind him wordlessly to his quarters. 

“So, I was thinking,” Anakin began carefully, after they’d shut off the lights and slipped between the sheets in only their underwear. Obi-Wan turned towards Anakin’s voice in the darkness. He could make out the faint outline of him in the dim moonlight that filtered through the curtains. 

“What if you came back to Coruscant with me?” Anakin offered. 

Obi-Wan bristled at the suggestion. “Just for a while,” Anakin continued hastily, sensing Obi-Wan’s discomfort. “Just long enough to help me explain all of - this - to the Council,” he concluded, a hand gesture encompassing all of the terrible knowledge that this entailed. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said warily, much as he’d done when Anakin had climbed into his lap the night before. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Coruscant is…not somewhere I want to be. Palpatine wants me dead,” he argued. “And I’m a Sith, the Jedi wouldn’t -” 

Anakin cut him off, dismissing his concerns with a wave of his hand. “But you’re the one who found all of this. You know everything about Palpatine’s plans. The Council is going to have questions that only you can answer,” Anakin implored. He crossed the distance between them, grasping Obi-Wan’s hands in his. 

Obi-Wan huffed. “I don’t want to be involved, Anakin,” he chided wearily. His part was done. He had worked for years scraping up intel on Sidious, and now he wanted someone else to take up the cause. He was tired.

Anakin shuffled closer, tangling their bare legs together under the covers, slotting their groins together neatly. If this was part of Anakin’s persuasion strategy, it was working. 

“But you can help us stop him, Obi-Wan. Isn’t that what you want?” Anakin asked earnestly. Even in the darkness, Obi-Wan could see Anakin’s wide eyes staring at him, pleading. 

Obi-Wan sighed. 

That was what he wanted. He’d just hoped he wouldn’t need to be the one doing it. 

But Anakin had a point. Did he really trust the Jedi to bring Palpatine down entirely on their own? Did he trust them to keep Anakin safe while doing so? Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad for Obi-Wan to have a hand in the matter. 

Obi-Wan rolled Anakin over until the boy was underneath him. “Fine,” he said, and Anakin’s face broke out into a wide grin, the first he’d seen since they woke up that morning. 

He leaned down to kiss Anakin, delighting in the way Anakin shivered at the touch. 

“But- ” he said, breaking off the kiss. “- I have conditions.” 

*                    *                    *

The following afternoon, Anakin stood in front of the Jedi High Council. 

He’d taken a small starfighter down to Coruscant from Obi-Wan’s ship, as they’d planned. Obi-Wan was waiting just outside of Coruscant’s atmosphere. 

As soon as Anakin had breached the planet’s airspace in the Aethersprite, he’d called the Council and told them he needed to meet with them as soon as possible for a matter of utmost importance. 

The Council - relieved he was alive, after Anakin had been missing in action for nearly two days -  convened as soon as he landed. 

And Anakin had told them…everything. 

Well, not everything, Anakin thought, as he recalled Obi-Wan fucking into him, tugging on his padawan braid as Anakin came on his cock. 

But all the relevant details. 

He’d been on Kashyyyk for his mission when he encountered a…source. The source informed him that there was a plot to destabilize the Republic through a manufactured war. A plot to slaughter the Jedi with their own clone army (and that the Republic had a clone army, in the first place - also part of the plot). And that the person behind these plans was, in fact, the Chancellor, who was secretly a Sith lord. A Sith lord who wanted Anakin as his apprentice, apparently. 

Anakin watched as the faces of the Council oscillated from horror to skepticism and back again at his words. When he had finished his tale, he pulled the datachip from his pocket. 

“I have all of the files from…my source.” Anakin said. He was under very strict instructions not to reveal Obi-Wan’s identity. 

Yoda reached out a small clawed hand for the chip and inserted it into the holoprojector by his seat. The Council chamber was illuminated with overlapping blue files, an entire database worth of data. 

“Have you reviewed these files, Anakin?” Mace asked, speaking for the first time since Anakin had begun his tale. 

“Not all of them,” Anakin replied. “There’s…a lot here. But enough to corroborate the key pieces. The clones, the droid army, with ties back to Palpatine,” Anakin swallowed dryly as the name caught in his throat. 

Yoda and Mace exchanged grave glances. 

“Review the files closely, we will. Confirm their authenticity, we must. But, time, that will take.” Yoda said sagely. 

Mace turned back to look at Anakin. “You mentioned your source was willing to speak to us?” 

Anakin nodded. “Yes, they’re in the airspace above Coruscant. But they have some…conditions.” Anakin explained. Mace and Yoda exchanged another long-suffering glance. 

Twenty minutes later, Anakin strode back into the Council chambers with a cloaked figure at his side. 

The Council had agreed to each condition - the source would be granted immunity, they would be free to leave the Temple at any time, and, most importantly, their identity was not to be revealed beyond the Council chamber - and now, they would finally see who Padawan Skywalker’s mystery source was. Who could possibly have had the time and skill to uncover a decades-long plot, by the Chancellor of the Republic no less, without being caught? 

The Council watched the pair with unabashed curiosity as they trailed through the wide doors. The hooded figure parted from Anakin and came to stand in the center of the Council chairs. 

Only then did the figure raise two gloved hands to lift the hood from his face. 

“Hello there”  

*                    *                    *

Obi-Wan had never thought he’d stand in the Jedi Temple - let alone the chambers of the High Council - again. 

But it might be worth it for the looks on the Masters’ faces alone. 

Obi-Wan watched with no small degree of enjoyment as looks of confusion and then recognition - and then horror, no doubt due to the yellow of his eyes - blossomed around the room. 

Mace Windu scowled. Ki-Adi-Mundi looked personally affronted, as though he’d perhaps stepped in something nasty. Yoda’s ears drooped. Shaak Ti - well, she actually looked a bit intrigued, eyes flitting over Obi-Wan’s bearded face before she schooled her expression into something more neutral. 

But the point was, Obi-Wan was greatly enjoying the dramatics of appearing before the Council - a wayward Jedi turned Sith. 

Amidst the incredulous looks, it was Yoda who finally spoke. “A Sith you are, young Obi-Wan?” he asked sadly, his clawed hands gripping his gimer stick. 

Obi-Wan shook off the instinctive irritation at the moniker. “Yes, but not affiliated with Sidious. I spent one remarkably unpleasant year as his apprentice and haven’t looked back since.” he said dryly. 

He didn’t care about the Council’s obvious judgment towards him, but he wouldn’t have anyone thinking he was working with that monster. 

Mace and Yoda exchanged glances. “So all of this intel is from you?” Mace asked, eyeing Obi-Wan suspiciously. 

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes. I first learned of Sidious’ identity and his plans for the Republic when I was his apprentice. After I left, I made it my mission to gather as much information as I could about his, ah, many ventures.” Obi-Wan explained. 

“How do we know we can trust you?” Mundi butted in brashly. “This could be a trick from Sidious himself!” 

Obi-Wan tried to keep the look of distaste from his features. He had never cared for the Cerean. 

“Trust me, don’t trust me, that’s your business,” he said, irritation bleeding into his tone. “What I gave you is all true. You can independently verify it, which I suggest you start doing as quickly as possible,” he concluded snappishly. 

Some of the Masters exchanged further looks.

“Why did you do this, Obi-Wan? Collecting all of this information?” Plo Koon asked. His masked face cocked to the side curiously. 

“I…don’t like Sidious,” Obi-Wan answered simply. 

Mace huffed. “That’s it? You don’t like him?” he asked. 

Obi-Wan crossed his arms defensively. “Yes. I find him…uncouth,” he continued haughtily. 

“Uncouth?” Master Mundi said incredulously. “You spent years digging up classified data, likely at great personal risk, because you find him uncouth?” 

Obi-Wan huffed. Why was he the one being interrogated? They had a Sith lord (a worse one, in fact) to go catch. 

Mace dispelled the issue with a wave of his hand. “Regardless. Why did you bring this intel to the Jedi, Obi-Wan?” he asked. 

Obi-Wan uncrossed his arms. “So you can save the galaxy, of course. Isn’t that what you do?” he answered. It didn’t come out half as sarcastic as he had intended it to. 

Yoda was eyeing him curiously. Obi-Wan resented the way it still made him feel like a youngling. 

“And you needed to involve my padawan because-?” Mace asked. 

Obi-Wan was rankled by Mace’s wording, though he knew he didn’t have any right to be. Anakin was Windu’s padawan. Mace was Anakin’s master, not Obi-Wan. He and Anakin could only play pretend. 

Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin, who had been standing quietly by the door, shuffling in his robes, throughout the conversation. 

“I needed someone I could trust,” Obi-Wan answered simply. Anakin blushed, a small, pleased smile gracing his face before he schooled his features back into a serious expression. 

Obi-Wan turned back to the Council, who seemed to have finally run out of questions for him. The silence was again broken by Yoda. 

“Know much about Palpatine’s plans, you do, young Obi-Wan. Years you have spent. A much deeper understanding than the Council, you have.” Obi-Wan waited warily to see where this was going. 

“Thoughts, do you have, on how the Jedi should begin to unravel his plans?” Yoda asked. 

The Chamber fell silent once again as the Masters all turned to look at Obi-Wan expectantly. 

Obi-Wan was struck by the question. He hadn’t been expecting that. 

He swallowed thickly, ignoring how he felt a small, broken part of himself snap back together at being asked for his advice by the very same Council that had driven him away with their distrust. 

He cleared his throat. “Actually, yes. I do.” 

*                    *                    *

Hours later, Obi-Wan finally left the Council chamber. 

Tentative plans had been made. Strategy had been discussed. Spies would be dispatched, intelligence would be gathered, preparations made to wage a war on many fronts. 

Obi-Wan was tired, but satisfied. The Council had listened to him. Asked him questions about the droids, the clones, the Confederacy of Independent Systems. They had adopted his strategies, nodded thoughtfully in response to his ideas. 

With largely feigned reluctance, Obi-Wan had given the Council a comm number to reach him by  - and his agreement to be a consultant, of sorts, in the coming efforts. 

And true to their word, the Jedi were letting him leave Coruscant, unimpeded. 

Coruscant Prime was just beginning to set outside the wide windows of the temple. Obi-Wan paused in the hallway outside the Council chamber to watch it, taking in the cluttered, crowded, Coruscant skyline silhouetted against orange light. It was a sight he hadn’t seen in more than ten years. 

It was a strange feeling. To be back at the Jedi Temple, yes, but also to have finally completed the work he had been set upon for so long. For years, his thoughts of the future had looked only towards this mission. 

Now it was behind him. It was a bittersweet relief. What would his future look like now? 

As if sensing his thoughts, Anakin appeared at his side. “What are you going to do now?” he asked. Obi-Wan turned to look at the boy. His cheeks were flushed, his skin glowing golden in the fading light. He was truly breathtaking. 

Obi-Wan would miss him dearly. Just as he had the first time. 

He gave Anakin a wan smile. “I’m going home,” he said. He lifted a hand to cup Anakin’s cheek tenderly. 

“You’re leaving now?” Anakin asked, eyes wide as he leaned into Obi-Wan’s touch. 

Obi-Wan nodded. “I’m afraid so. I have no further business here, and as I mentioned, Coruscant is a dangerous place for me to be,” he said, regret making its way into his words. 

Anakin let out a frantic sort of whimper. 

“Wait -” Anakin said, his hand gripping at Obi-Wan’s wrist, as if to keep him from pulling his touch away. “I have - I have a surprise for you. Just let me run to my quarters, I’ll meet you at the hangar,” he said in a rush. “Ten minutes, that’s all I need,” he added. 

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. “I…alright, Anakin.” he replied, taken aback by the fervor with which Anakin spoke. 

“Don’t leave - promise me you’ll wait,” Anakin all but pleaded. 

“I’ll wait,” Obi-Wan said. 

Anakin nodded, keeping Obi-Wan’s eyes locked on his for a moment, before turning and running down the hallway to his quarters. 

Fifteen minutes later, Obi-Wan was waiting outside of his ship in the hangar, pacing. He was eager to get off-planet, but he wasn’t inclined to break his promise to Anakin. Not when he had asked so sweetly, so fervently. 

Finally, the sound of footsteps and huffing breath carried through the hangar. Obi-Wan turned to see Anakin jogging towards him, a bag swinging at his side, its straps clutched tightly in his hand. 

“Sorry - I’m late - “ Anakin breathed. 

Obi-Wan eyed him with amusement as Anakin leaned over to catch his breath. 

“It’s quite alright, darling,” he said. “I promised to wait, didn’t it?” 

As Anakin straightened, Obi-Wan’s eyes landed on the bag Anakin was holding. It was of good size, almost like a travel bag, or - 

Oh. 

Obi-Wan looked up to find Anakin watching him with wide, pleading, hopeful eyes. 

“You…want to come with me?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Anakin nodded. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, hope beginning to sprout painfully in his chest. Anakin should stay here, Anakin should be knighted - 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, stepping closer, crowding into his space. “We’re supposed to be together. The force wants us to be together. Can’t you feel it?” 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He felt Anakin - a blazing inferno in the force, raw power and emotion eddying around him. Obi-Wan reached out and Anakin began twining them together in the force, just as he had the first night they were together. Like they were one in the force. 

It did feel right. It felt like coming home. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan breathed. What a marvel this boy was. 

“I would have gone with you all those years ago, too, if I’d had the choice,” Anakin said softly. 

“Alright, Anakin,” Obi-Wan conceded, hoping his voice didn’t convey just how much Anakin’s words affected him. “Come with me, if that’s what you want, you ridiculous, darling boy.” 

Anakin preened, victorious. “Wizard,” he breathed. “Does this mean I have to be a Sith, too?” he asked, resting his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. His tone was playful but there was a hint of trepidation beneath it. 

Obi-Wan could say yes. He could take Anakin as his apprentice, train him in the dark the way he’d been denied training him in the light all those years ago. 

But would he take another choice away from a boy who’d had so few? Would he want to make Anakin anything other than the wonder he already was? 

“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan answered, their faces still pressed closely together. “You can be whatever you want to be.” 

He reached up to twist a hand around Anakin’s padawan braid. “Now let’s go home.” 

As soon as they left Coruscant’s atmosphere and entered hyperspace, Anakin left his seat to climb into Obi-Wan’s lap. Obi-Wan was prepared, this time, and welcomed him easily, lifting hands to grasp softly at Anakin’s hips, letting the boy snuggle into his neck. Anakin was warm and sweet and Obi-Wan wondered what he had possibly done to deserve such a gift. 

As they sat in blissful silence, a thought occurred to Obi-Wan. 

“Anakin, did you tell the Council that you were coming with me?” he asked. 

Anakin sat up, the sheepish look on his face answer enough. “No,” he admitted, biting at his lip. 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan chided. “They’re going to think I kidnapped you. Again,” he added peevishly. He didn’t relish getting an angry comm call from Mace Windu now that they knew exactly how to reach him. 

“I’ll send a message as soon as we drop out of hyperspace. I’ll tell them I came willingly,” Anakin assured him guiltily, looking chastened. 

Obi-Wan snorted. “Oh yes, you came very willingly. Multiple times, if I recall,” Obi-Wan teased, unable to resist the double entendre. Anakin’s face flushed prettily and he ducked back into Obi-Wan’s neck, but he was smiling. 

Obi-Wan could get used to this. 

Suddenly, Anakin sat up. “Oh,” he said. “I actually do have something for you. I wasn’t totally making that up,” he continued, climbing off of Obi-Wan’s lap and padding off into the ship. 

Obi-Wan waited with puzzled curiosity until Anakin returned. “Close your eyes,” Anakin’s voice called from the doorway behind him.  

Obi-Wan huffed but closed his eyes obediently. At this point he’d do anything Anakin asked him too, probably. 

He felt Anakin’s weight settle back onto his lap. “Put out your hands,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan did as instructed. 

Something heavy and cold settled into his palms. 

“You can look now,” Anakin said, but Obi-Wan knew what it was before he even opened his eyes. Its kyber still sang for him. 

“Qui-Gon’s lightsaber,” Obi-Wan said thickly. He turned it over in his hands, struck with emotion. Grief he’d buried years ago, admiration and love he’d buried right alongside it, resurfacing.  

“Anakin. How do you have this?” Obi-Wan asked in a whisper. 

Anakin shrugged. “Mace gave it to me, when I was fourteen I think?” he answered. “He said the Council thought I should have it. And I think you should have it,” he continued. 

Obi-Wan was struck, both by the gift and the incredible thoughtfulness of Anakin giving it to him. “Thank you, Anakin,” he said softly. He clipped the saber to his belt, alongside his own, with reverent hands. 

He wrapped his arms around Anakin, bringing him back into Obi-Wan’s embrace. Anakin tucked himself easily back into Obi-Wan’s neck, and Obi-Wan nuzzled his face into the fuzz of his spiky padawan cut. 

They sat together like that for a long stretch, until the silence was again broken by Anakin. 

“Hey Obi-Wan?” he asked. 

“Mmm?” Obi-Wan replied. 

“Could we…could we go visit my mother sometime?” Anakin asked. He sounded so hesitant, so young, so cautiously hopeful. Obi-Wan felt a surge of fondness for him, the familiar desire to keep him from anything that may bring him harm. 

“Of course, my darling,” he said. “We can go anywhere you want to go.” 

Incoming Message

Centaxday, 1900 hours galactic basic time

To: Mace Windu

From: Anakin Skywalker 

Master Windu, 

In case you haven’t figured it out already, I left with Obi-Wan on his ship. It was my choice to go (and my idea, so don’t get mad at him). I know you’re always saying I’m too impulsive, but you’re also always telling me to listen to the force. And the force is telling me that this is the right thing to do. 

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in person, but I hope this isn’t goodbye. Who knows, maybe Obi-Wan and I will come back to visit someday :) 

Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and for everything you taught me. I’ll try my best to make you proud. 

-AS

*                    *                    *

2 Years Later 

Obi-Wan was just finishing his morning meditation when he felt Anakin begin to stir. He was out on the balcony, a spot he’d come to find suited his meditations well. He relished the cool, fresh air of the morning, the ability to feel the cycle of life and death and decay and rebirth in the forest that surrounded their home. 

Their home. 

It was something Obi-Wan was still getting used to, the warmth and love and joy that Anakin had brought back into his life after a decade without. Having someone to share his days with after so long on his own. 

They’d fallen into an easy pattern when they returned from Coruscant. They did katas together, they sparred, even meditated together when Obi-Wan could convince Anakin to sit still for long enough (which wasn’t often). Their signatures suited each other; Obi-Wan’s a clouded grey dappled with light, Anakin’s blindingly bright but tinged with shadows. Neither wholly in one camp or another. Balanced. 

Obi-Wan found he liked having companionship, especially with such a lovely companion as Anakin. Sharing his life. Sharing his bed. Two halves of the same whole. 

It didn’t hurt, either, that all of the droids in their home now operated at maximum efficiency - and their mouse droid sang them a lullaby in binary every night and played the Coruscanti anthem every morning. Which wasn’t strictly necessary - or helpful - but Obi-Wan appreciated it nonetheless. 

As he drifted up out of his meditation, eyes still closed, Obi-Wan felt Anakin approaching. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, sliding open the balcony door. 

“Good morning, darling,” Obi-Wan replied. Anakin padded closer and plunked down into his now-familiar spot on Obi-Wan’s lap. 

“Obi-Wan,” he said again. 

“Your mother called,” Obi-Wan said, “She asked when we were going to visit her again, I told her -”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said again, more emphatically. Obi-Wan finally opened his eyes to find Anakin looking at him, fond consternation on his lovely face. 

He really was angelic. His hair was grown out of his padawan cut by now, and it curled temptingly around his ears and neck. He no longer sported his padawan braid, either. He’d asked Obi-Wan to cut it shortly after they left Coruscant - an act which may or may not have brought tears to the Sith’s eyes - and now the braid lay side by side with Obi-Wan’s own in a wooden box in their bedroom. 

“Yes?” Obi-Wan said, shaking himself out of his thoughts and the last of his meditative stupor. 

“Did you check the news?” Anakin asked exasperatedly. 

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. “No? Did something happen?” 

Anakin smiled, lifting his hands to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “They did it, Obi-Wan. Palpatine’s dead.” 

Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped. “Really?” he asked, agog. 

Anakin nodded. “Mace called. The Council went to arrest him. There was a fight and - well - he lost.” Anakin explained. 

Obi-Wan was stunned. They’d had many calls with the Jedi over the past two years regarding their plans. Once the war had officially started, they’d begun working through neutralizing the inhibitor chips in the clones - making a move on Sidious before that was done was out of the question. They’d only finished clearing the entire GAR recently. Obi-Wan knew confronting Palpatine was going to be the next step, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon - 

The rest of Anakin’s statement registered. “A fight? Are the Council -?” Obi-Wan asked. 

Anakin grimaced. “Master Fisto is in bacta and Master Windu - he lost a hand,” Anakin said, sounding grieved. “But everyone survived, the only other injuries were minor,” he added. 

Obi-Wan sighed with relief. “It’s all over the holonews,” Anakin continued. “They released the files to a few Senators ahead of time, just like you suggested. Bail Organa is speaking at an emergency session later today.” 

Obi-Wan barely heard him. After the sheer shock had passed he was left processing the fact that it was really done. It was over. Everything he had fought for more than ten years for. 

Sidious - the man, the monster, who he’d made it his life’s work to thwart - was dead. For the first time in years, he didn’t have to live looking over his shoulder. 

Obi-Wan slumped forward to rest his forehead against Anakin’s chest, all the fight gone out of him in one swoop of overwhelming relief. 

“You did it, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said softly, bringing a hand up to card through Obi-Wan’s hair. 

Obi-Wan huffed. “It was hardly my doing,” he said. 

“You had help,” Anakin allowed, “but this never would have happened without you. You saved the galaxy,” he said, sounding awed. 

Obi-Wan lifted his head to see Anakin looking at him with a soft expression of wonder. It was almost too much, the weighty reverence, the do-gooder credit he was placing in Obi-Wan’s lap. 

“Yes, well, I had my reasons,” Obi-Wan said. “I told you I never liked him. He gave me a stupid Sith name,” Obi-Wan protested weakly. 

Anakin didn’t buy it. “Uh-huh,” he said, smiling knowingly. “I’m sure that’s exactly why you did it, Darth Hill.” 

Obi-Wan grabbed at Anakin’s sides where he knew he was ticklish. “That’s Darth Knox to you,” he said, without any ire, as Anakin giggled in his lap. “And it means small hill, I’ll have you know.” 

“Oh yeah, because that’s better,” Anakin laughed, trying, and failing to wriggle away from Obi-Wan’s hands. Obi-Wan finally took mercy on him and ceased his efforts, pulling Anakin instead into a kiss. Obi-Wan never got tired of how soft Anakin’s lips felt against his, of the way his body felt beneath Obi-Wan’s hands. He felt like home. 

They parted, and Anakin rested his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. 

“So, what are we going to do now?” Anakin asked, breathless from their kiss. 

Obi-Wan smiled. “Whatever we want.”