Title: More Than This (1/1)
Author: Kaylie Malinza
Rating: PG-13
Archive: Yes, please.
Warnings: Drunkeness, but only one instance of vomit.
Disclaimer: THEY ARE NOT MINE! This is fanfiction. We should know this.
Category:First-Time. Fluff (sort of).
Summary: TeenageAngst!Anakin and NeglectfulParent!Obi-Wan. But it's really sweet, I promise. This is a response to a first-line challenge on the Obi-Ani Yahoo! Group. It is also up at Fanfiction.net

"Nope, I don't go in that way."

"Anakin."

"We could find a back door, you know. Or a window."

"Padawan."

"Because we've got to be... mysterious. Like we just appeared there. Keep up the reputation?"

"So we can't use the front door."

"Nope. Too normal."

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard."

Anakin scowled at his master. Obi-Wan folded his hands across his chest and raised an eyebrow, carefully hiding a smirk. His apprentice rolled his eyes.

"Fine. You go in the front door, Master. But they'll all see you before you get a chance to see them."

"I thought the purpose was to be seen?"

"Well, no. Yeah, but— you have to be sly. Sneak up on them, let them see you out of the corner of your eye. So it won't hit them all at once. The lust, I mean." Anakin nodded to himself, proud of his explanation. Obi-Wan looked at him for a moment, then turned and walked into the club. Anakin shook his head and went to find a back way.

Obi-Wan made his way through the bar, threading through the varied populace. His hair shone pink in the lights; a female smiled at him, and he politely returned it. She sidled over to him as he ordered a drink.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi." Her teeth reflected the neon lights. They looked like gems against the dark texture of her skin. "You look nice," she said.

"Thank you."

"Buy me a drink?"

"Of course." Obi-Wan signaled the bartender, and introduced himself. The woman's name was Fiolla. They fell into a discussion, leaning close to be heard over the thudding music. Fiolla touched his arm casually, flirtatiously. He returned the touches, telling a joke. She was just reaching to feel his beard when she noticed him looking over her shoulder, and turned around.

"Ugh," she said. Obi-Wan took a drink to hide his smile.

Anakin came strutting across the floor, hands on his hips like he owned the world. He wound himself among a circle of bouncing aliens and leaned toward a dancer with a grin. He wispered something into her large, frilled ear and looked vaguely confused when she glared at him and walked away. Obi-Wan stifled a snicker. Fiolla caught it and turned back to him, smiling devilishly.

"Young ones think they're shit on feet, eh?" she said. Obi-Wan nodded.

"That he does."

Fiolla smiled brilliantly, and swiveled closer to him. Obi-Wan admired the twist of hips, and gently clasped her hand. Their conversation began anew, and had just started to descend into innuendo when Anakin showed up.

"Hey, beautiful," he said. "Are you an angel?"

Fiolla spared him an exasperated glance over her shoulder, and turned to Obi-Wan.

"Sorry," she said. "Find me later." And she hopped off the barstool, touching his face briefly as she slid away.

Obi-Wan glared at Anakin. Anakin didn't notice.

"Hey, wow, she was cute," he said.

"Do you ever plan to use that line on Padme?" asked Obi-Wan.



Anakin blushed slightly and mumbled something. "What was that?" "I already have," he muttered. Obi-Wan sighed.

"Padawan, you should update your pick-up lines at least once a decade."

Anakin scowled again.

"Hey, it doesn't matter," he said. "I could pick up someone new, just like that." And he snapped his fingers. Obi-Wan took a drink to keep from laughing in his face. But Anakin was glowering at him, and Obi-Wan felt something chill the air around them.

"Control your anger," said Obi-Wan, a knee-jerk reaction. The chill was abruptly hidden.

It still existed.

"I could pick up someone," said Anakin. Nonchalant. Argumentative.

"I'm not disputing that."

"You want a contest?"

"No, Anakin. It's not that important."

"Yeah, it is." Anakin scanned the club, almost twitching with restrained energy. "Him," he said, gesturing at a large humanoid in the corner.

"A male?" said Obi-Wan.

"Sure. You don't like them?"

"No, that's fine."

"Alright." Anakin caught the eye of the humanoid and winked.

The guy looked curious, then sauntered over. He insinuated himself between Anakin and Obi-Wan.

"Hey," he said to Anakin. "How much?" "Fuck you!" Anakin exploded. Obi-Wan burst into laughter, trying not to spill his drink. The humanoid wandered away, sulkily muttering that he thought that was the point.

Anakin sniveled at the bar. The plastic surface slowly, subtly sizzled.

Obi-Wan eventually gained control of himself and sat up, wiping his eyes.

"It's not funny," muttered Anakin.

"Well, Padawan, if you dress like a whore...."

"Shut up. Nothing wrong with leather." He twitched his shoulders, glancing at Obi-Wan. "At least I'm not dressed like a bank teller in vacation," he accused. Obi-wan shrugged. "I still can't believe you wore that. It's almost.... respectable."

"I should hope so."

"You can't expect to actually pick someone up in that."

"No. But I expect to meet someone. In fact, I already had."

"What, that purple chick? She walked away."

"Yes, she did. When you showed up."

Anakin didn't answer. Obi-Wan sighed.

"I thought this was a night off," he said.

"It is."

"Alright." Obi-Wan finished off his drink and stood up.

"Where are you going?" asked Anakin.

"To dance," he said, and moved away. Fiolla caught up with him; they disappeared into the crowd, moving against each other. Anakin scowled.

Obi-Wan approached the bar some time later, and found his Padawan sprawled across it.

"Anakin."

The boy twitched.

"Anakin, make a noise if you're conscious."

There came a muffled grunt. Obi-Wan nodded approvingly.

"Good. Can you make it home alone? I'm uh... leaving with someone else."

Anakin made another noise.

"I don't know when I'll be home tomorrow, but we already moved our sparring session to the afternoon, so it shouldn't be a problem.... You can be on your own until then. Do you understand me?"

There was a low moan, and Obi-Wan patted his apprentice on the back.

"Alright, I'm leaving now. Don't forget to metabolize the alcohol before you go home. I'll see you in the morning, Padawan." And he left, one armed wrapped around Fiolla.

Nobody loves me, thought Anakin. Then he passed out. No-one noticed.

Obi-Wan entered his quarters shortly before lunch, feeling refreshed and happy.

"Anakin?" he called out searching the quarters. Anakin wasn't there.

"Damn," said Obi-Wan, and left.

Obi-Wan entered the club, which was now empty, silent and lit with uncolored worklights. He approached the bartender.

"Excuse me," he said. "I left a young man here last night, and I'm afraid he's probably still here. He's about this tall—but you can't tell that if he's lying down, of course. His hair's cut rather short, and he's got a braid in the front? And his eyes are blue, but he was probably passed out."

"I got three," said the bartender. "Which one you want?"

"I'll just go look," said Obi-Wan.

Anakin came to consciousness painfully in the backroom, wedged under several other beings. He pulled his hand from underneath his body; it landed dangerously close to a puddle of someone else's vomit. He heard the door open.

"Morning, sunshine."

"Uuungh," said Anakin.

"Come on, Padawan, up and at `em."

"Mmmmmegh," said Anakin, as he was pulled from the pile of other drunk, unconscious losers.

"Oh, really? That's very interesting. Tell me more."

"Eeeeeeennnuugh....."

And Obi-Wan took his apprentice home.

Anakin let out a sigh of relief as he was lowered to cool sheets in his own room. His master put a glass of water by the bed and closed the blinds, and left the room. Anakin smiled despite his headache, snuggling deeper into the pillows. Loud music began to play in the other room. Anakin began to cry.

Obi-Wan was cooking pasta when Anakin staggered into the common room and landed in a chair.

"I hate you," he said, and lay his head on the table.

"Hate is the way to the Dark Side, Padawan."

"I know." A silence. Anakin finally looked up, looking at the beige blur he thought was his master. "Are you going to punish me?"

Obi-Wan shrugged, dumped some pasta on a plate.

"No, I don't think so. In fact, I'll thank you. It makes my job so much easier when you punish yourself," he said, and put the plate in front of his Padawan. Anakin caught Obi-Wan's stare.

"Nothing makes your job easier," he said.

Obi-Wan looked at the ice-pick eyes boring into his and swallowed.

"No," he agreed.

They ate dinner in silence.

Obi-Wan insisted that they spar after dinner. Anakin trudged into the ring, and held up his lightsabre. Obi-Wan came at him, sabre held high.

"Ow," said Anakin.

"Padawan!"

"Yes?"

"You didn't even try to block that! It's a good thing I turned my sabre down, otherwise you would be cleaved in half by now."

"I feel that way."

Obi-Wan appraised his apprentice.

"You aren't still suffering from a hangover, are you? You should have dispelled its effects by now."

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"What?"

Obi-Wan sighed in exasperation.

"Did you dispell the effects of the hangover. I just said that."

"Oh. I guess."

"You guess what? Did you dispell them, or not? Is there something else I should be worried about?"

Anakin looked up from the floor. He studied Obi-Wan intently, a faint line of confusion between his brows.

"Yes, Master. There's always something you should be worried about." And he left.

"Anakin!" The call reverberated angrily off the walls. Anakin burrowed further under the blanket. "Anakin, come out. We need to discuss your behavior." Anakin sent a brief and vehement go away through the bond. He recieved a short, explicit no in return. "Anakin, I'm coming in." And the door slid open.

Anakin lay perfectly still, hoping that Obi-Wan might think him dead and go away. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan was smarter than your average bear. Yogi Kenobi. Sucks for me, thought Anakin. He felt the bed depress as Obi-Wan sat on it. Anakin noted, a little sadly, that he could not feel the warmth of his master's body.

"Anakin, tell me what's bothering you."

"Read my mind."

"No." Silence. Obi-Wan spoke again, a little softer. "Tell me, Padawan. Please."

Anakin took a breath. He gazed at the soft dim cavern surrounding him. His voice broke against it like a tree in the desert. Brittle. Unnatural.

"When I fall to the Dark Side, do you promise to kill me?"

A pause.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Another pause. The truth ate greedily the air it had been denied for so long. Finally, with difficulty, Obi-Wan spoke.

"Is that all?"

"To you, obviously."

"Padawan." It was spoken quickly; a panicked, stern denial that he could not put into words. Anakin shifted further away.

"I know you didn't want to train me—"

"Padawan—"

"And I know you're afraid of me. I'm afraid of myself."

Silence. Anakin wondered why this was happening now; if he had realized this years ago on Tatooine, everyone would have been saved a lot of trouble. But the words, those caustic, candid creatures inside him, had waited. Now they continued, a tiny parade of hurt. "I know what the Chosen one means. I know what you think it means, whatever the Council or your master or anyone said. And you assume I will fall to the Dark Side."

"Would you prefer I didn't?"

"No. That would be foolish." A sigh. "I assume it, too. I know I'll fall, but.... it hurts on the way down." Anakin smiled tightly, hidden beneath the blankets. "I've got it over everyone else at the bar, though. Their problems have nothing on mine. And this is my adolescence, I guess. Not good enough to be Jedi, but I haven't killed anyone yet. Nope, haven't hacked down a Lightsider yet...."

"Anakin, stop."

"It's true."

"You're more than the Chosen One."

Pause. Anakin absorbed the vehemence of Obi-Wan's voice. He could hear his master thinking, There is no passion, there is only serenity. There is no passion, there is only serenity....

"I know," said Anakin. "But you don't." And his Master's thoughts abruptly ceased. Anakin helpfully supplied some. It's a foregone conclusion....

"No, it's not," said Obi-Wan. "And I know you're more than the Chosen One. I just...." He broke off, not knowing what to say. His hand drifted to the lump beneath the covers, and he rubbed slowly.

His master's hand was hot on Anakin's arm. He wished it would never go away.

"More than a Chosen One." said Obi-Wan. "More than a job, more than a promise to a dying man...." Anakin stiffened. Obi-Wan felt it, and squeezed his shoulder. "You're a young man, Anakin. I'm fond of you." A pause. Anakin heard the take and release of a great breath. "I want to save you from this," said Obi-Wan. "Tell me how."

"I don't want to be on the other side of the room from you forever," said Anakin. He didn't know what it meant; words had their own minds, and were smarter than him. Obi-Wan took his hand away. His voice was determined; Anakin felt the echo in the air.

"If you fall to the Dark Side, Padawan, I will kill you. But I will fight that every step of the way."

Anakin didn't reply. He felt the covers being pulled from his head; strong hands pulled at his shoulders, and he was turned to his back. Obi-Wan watched him from above, his body a brand of heat across Anakin's torso.

"It's lonely," said Anakin.

"I know," said Obi-Wan, and kissed him.

And Anakin felt he was more than just a prophecy.

END

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