Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The morning starts the same way every morning for the last eight years has started: with chaos. 

It’s way more cacophonic within the small condo than it should be considering only two people live there— but between the rattling of Threepio’s many bottles of medication, the dog’s ever present whining, the whistling of the kettle, the general thumping and stomping and clattering noises of Anakin getting ready for school, the music blasting from Anakin’s room, and the phone ringing, it’s enough of a headache to make Obi-Wan seriously consider day drinking. 

As soon as he’s done shovelling Threepio’s pills into the poor dog’s mouth, Obi-Wan stands up— winces when his knees crack obnoxiously loudly— and swipes the phone off the wall. He tucks the landline between his cheek and his shoulder as he reaches over and takes the old-fashioned kettle off the burner. 

“This is a message from the government of the United States…” a monotone voice on the other end of the line starts, and Obi-Wan frowns in confusion. “We are calling to report that your identity has been hacked, please state your social security number and bank information to confirm— “ 

Obi-Wan groans and hangs up. He abandons the kettle next to the tea pot for now and goes over to knock on Anakin’s door. “Anakin!” He shouts to be heard over the near-incomprehensible rock music blaring from inside the room. “Anakin!” He knocks again. 

“YEAH?” The teenager yells from the other side of the door, but doesn’t go to open it. Knowing Anakin, Obi-Wan doesn’t have to try the doorknob to know it’s locked— the ‘no dweebs allowed’ sign tacked on the door states very clearly he’s forbidden from entering, anyway. Anakin doesn’t turn his music down, either, so Obi-Wan has to keep shouting. 

“Unless you want a ride within the next ten minutes, I’m afraid you’ll have to take the bus to school today! But you can have the car after, I have a few parent-teacher meetings tonight and I can take the bus back! Is that alright?” 

There’s some shuffling around inside and the door unlocks and clicks open, revealing a sleep-rumpled and half dressed, half armed Anakin. “I’ll take the ride if it’s all the same to you. And yeah, that’s fine.” 

Obi-Wan nods even though he doubts Anakin will be ready to leave in less than ten minutes. “Good lad,” he says, and Anakin rolls his eyes before slamming the door shut once more. As soon as that barrier is back Obi-Wan heaves a sigh and maneuvers back into the kitchen, that is only divided from the living room by a counter, and makes his tea. 

Anakin isn’t the only one running late today. Obi-Wan hadn’t slept well all night, constantly waking up and falling back asleep and waking up and falling asleep again, and so had slept through his alarm-- which normally wouldn’t set off as tremendous a series of mishaps but he hadn’t showered last night so he needed to take one this morning, and then take Threepio out which is always an ordeal because the dog is afraid of his own shadow-- the only time he’s ever calm is when he’s in the car which Obi-Wan will never begin to understand-- then when he made breakfast he’d had to pack it up instead of actually eating it, which he was going to have to pack Anakin’s, too, instead of leaving it out for him like he normally would, if he was coming into school early with him. Then he had to feed and medicate Threepio, and now he was putting his tea in a thermos to have with his breakfast at his desk before class, while he finished up his lesson plans for the day, instead of being able to actually sit for a moment and savour a nice morning, for once.

The tea is barely finished steeping when he fills the thermos with it. They’re running out of time and Anakin hasn’t emerged yet. Obi-Wan grabs Anakin’s lunchbag off the cluttered counter and is about to pound on his door again when the aforementioned teenager comes barrelling out into the main part of the condo, hair still a mess but at least fully dressed and presentable. Anakin takes his lunch in his prosthetic hand and uses his flesh hand to pull his sneakers on, half stumbling and half leaning against the wall to do it, his overstuffed backpack slung over one shoulder. Obi-Wan huffs at his young charge’s antics and laces up his own shoes, grabbing his messenger bag and waiting by the door. 

He’s just double checking he has his wallet, keys and phone when Anakin straightens with a mock salute. “Ready!” He says. Obi-Wan looks him up and down with a raised eyebrow. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

Anakin just looks at him blankly for a second before he jumps. “Right! My fencing gear! Right.” He shuffles back into his room and emerges again a couple seconds later with the large black bag.

Contrary to the condo that morning, the car ride to school is silent and awkward. Anakin has his headphones on and the radio is off, and Obi-Wan can hear the tinny sounds of music playing full volume from Anakin’s headphones. He wants to scold him about damaging his hearing but if he tried Anakin either wouldn’t hear him or would just ignore him. He wants to ask how Anakin is liking his senior year so far, but knows Anakin would either not hear him or would just ignore him. He’s been doing that a lot, lately. Obi-Wan would be lying if he said he isn’t worried about how much Anakin has been growing distant lately. 

They arrive at the school before Obi-Wan can figure out how to broach any sort of topic of conversation. He pulls into the staff parking lot and before he’s even fully stopped the car Anakin is throwing off his seatbelt and jumping out. Obi-Wan yelps and slams on the brakes, but Anakin is already racing off towards the back field without a word, slamming the passenger door shut behind him and leaving his fencing gear in the backseat. Obi-Wan has to resist the urge to thunk his forehead on the steering wheel.

It’s only when he’s made it all the way to his desk in the classroom that’s been unofficially dubbed as his, sat down and taken out his tupperware of now room temperature and rubbery scrambled eggs that he realizes he forgot his tea at home.

It’s just after eight thirty am and the grass of the back field is only just starting to lose its morning dew, making the toes of Anakin’s shoes damp as he makes his way across the back field to where the football team is having an unofficial practise-- tryouts are after school today, but when one of the things your school is most famous for is its legendary football team, you find they like to get a head start on the season. Coach Krell is there and everything, barking orders at the team as they run through drills. Anakin eyes the large, imposing man as he slinks up to the bleachers and tries not to shudder. Boy, is he glad he only ever had Mr. Fisto for gym. 

Anakin finds a seat on the bleachers and hunkers down, eagerly opening his lunchbag. If he eats all his lunch now, maybe he can convince Obi-Wan to give him a ten to get lunch from the cafeteria. He’s a growing boy, after all-- and today is lasagna day. The school’s lasagna is so bad but so good. It’s like a big mushy pile of pure awful deliciousness. He absently watches the guys on the field toss the ball back and forth while he munches on his apple slices. He only kind of gets football, fencing is his sport, but Rex has been on the team since forever and so Anakin has been to nearly all of the school’s games. And he’s not likely to start missing them now, especially since Rex is the team captain this year.

He scans the field for his best friend’s familiar shock of platinum blond among the other players, that, to Anakin’s eternal amusement, almost all share a very similar face. The Fett family is huge and sprawling, dozens of brothers and cousins and a few sisters-- and it’s almost like playing football is a family rite of passage. He could probably count on one hand the number of guys on the team that don’t share the same brown skin and brown eyes every Fett has.

Anakin eats his breakfast and sends Padmé memes until the unofficial practise is over, fifteen minutes before first bell. The team disperses, and Anakin looks around at the other spectators gathered in small groups along the bleachers and the edge of the field. It’s mostly girls-- Anakin recognizes more than a few cheerleaders, even though he’s never been into cheerleaders, and some other girls that have no stakes in football but just fancy guys on the team. Internally Anakin smacks himself-- ‘fancy’, he has got to stop picking up Obi-Wan’s dumb slang.

Rex spends another few minutes talking to some of the other guys before he jogs up to where Anakin is sitting. “Oh cool, Kenobi lunch. Can I have some?” He says instead of an actual greeting. Anakin just hands him a container of greek salad and a reusable plastic fork. The football star grins and accepts it eagerly, sitting next to Anakin on the cool metal bleacher and digging into the homemade salad with gusto. 

“I don’t know why you don’t appreciate Mr. Kenobi’s lunches more,” Rex says with his mouth full, “They’re always so good. God I wish my dad still made me lunches every day, you don’t even know how good you have it.”

Anakin bites down furiously on a baby carrot. “Obi-Wan is not my dad.” He says with a surprising amount of venom, and Rex gives him a side eye before he keeps talking. 

“Well, Cody doesn’t pack me lunches either. Seriously, you don’t know how good you have it.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Anakin shrugs and grabs his backpack from where it’s propped on the bench under them. “You guys all idolize him way too much. I don’t know how to make you see the truth in how much of a total weirdo dweeb Obi-Wan is.” 

He stands, and so does Rex, and together they pick their way over to where Rex’s bag is, in the giant pile of stuff that the team dumped right before quote unquote practice. On their way they pass a small huddle of girls that all giggle and wave at them when Rex passes by. He waves back, completely casual, and certainly aware of the effect he has on the girls. Anakin tries and fails to hide a smirk. 

“So what’s new in the world of feeted-ball?” Anakin says, and Rex grimaces. 

“Don’t ever say feeted-ball ever again. And, Fives is gonna try out for the team this year-- he’s definitely gonna make it, he’s great. He just needs to get used to playing with a team, is all. What’s new in the world of Skywalker?”

“I miss Padmé,” Anakin says without skipping a beat. Rex rolls his eyes, and Anakin punches him on the arm. “Hey! I’m totally allowed to miss her, she’s on the other side of the fucking country!” 

“California isn’t-- okay it’s pretty much the other side of the country, but come on, man, she’ll be back for Thanksgiving before you know it. You can survive until then.” 

“I don’t know Rex, I think I might actually just die.” Anakin stumbles off the path back towards the school building and slumps dramatically against a fence, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead and all. Rex laughs at him, and Anakin looks up at the sky, face suddenly carefully blank. “I, uh. I bought a bottle of her shampoo and I smell it when I get sad.”

That makes Rex just scream with laughter, the bastard, and Anakin pouts at him. “Hey, don’t bully me!”

Rex ignores him, because they both know Rex and his friendly bullying is all that stands between Anakin and an overinflated ego. “Come on you fucking loser,” He says, grabbing Anakin by the arm and dragging him towards the back entrance where more and more students are starting to file in as first period grows closer. “We’re gonna be late at this rate.”

The two seniors shove their way through the crowd and into the school, wanting to get to their lockers before they have to rush off to first period. “Is it a day one or a day two?” Anakin shouts over the chattering of students and slamming of lockers around them. Beside him, Rex shrugs. 

“Dunno, but I hope it’s a day one-- I haven’t finished the chem worksheet yet!” He shouts back, and Anakin stops dead in the middle of the hallway. 

“There was a chem worksheet?” He asks, fear in his eyes, when Rex turns to see why his friend stopped. Rex starts to shoot him a look of amusement and vague disappointment, when something behind Anakin catches his eye. He taps on the taller teen’s shoulder and nods at something over his shoulder, and Anakin turns to see what. 

A gap in the throng of students opens up just in time for them both to see a young girl with vitiligo, blue and white braids, and an obviously-too-small red t-shirt being really thoroughly chewed out by coach Krell. They can’t hear what he’s saying, but he’s looming menacingly over her and the poor girl looks like she wants to crawl in a hole and hide forever, an obvious embarrassed flush to her cheeks. Rex and Anakin exchange a look, but before either of them can go see if she’s okay the girl scampers off in the other direction, her small frame quickly swallowed up by the crowd. The two boys make a noise of regret and turn back the other way, still having a class to get to.

“Poor girl,” Rex says. Anakin nods in agreement. 

“Must have been a freshman, I didn’t recognize her.” He frowns. “Man, I fucking hate Krell.” 

Rex seems to hesitate, but Anakin knows that internally, he wants to agree with him. “He’s… harsh, yeah, but his methods are effective. And he has a mind for football not many others do. I just wish he wasn’t…” 

“Such a dick?” Anakin finishes for him. Rex nods like he’d just said something very wise, instead of just using a profanity to describe a teacher.

Then the bell rings, cutting through the noise of the hallway, and both Rex and Anakin curse and break out into a run.

Obi-Wan smothers a sigh when Anakin and Rex burst into the classroom just as second bell goes off, signifying the beginning of class. They throw themselves into their seats and steadfastly ignore Obi-Wan’s disapproving look as if they hadn’t been seconds away from being late for class. “Good morning, everyone,” He stands from his desk and moves in front of the chalkboard, waiting for everyone to get settled in. A good few ‘good morning’s are mumbled back to him, and he smiles. 

Class starts out pretty well, especially considering it’s the first class of the day and full of twelfth graders no less. They seem to be paying enough attention for Obi-Wan to be satisfied-- except that Rex is clearly working on an assignment for another class, which Obi-Wan forgives because Rex has always been a good student and a smart young man. And, of course, Anakin is dozing off, because he just loves to make his life difficult. Obi-Wan lets it slide for now as he introduces the short story unit, and starts up the powerpoint about the pieces they’re going to read as a class.

Halfway through the lesson the classroom phone rings, and Obi-Wan stops mid-sentence with a quick apology to his students to go answer it. The classroom phones are all old, corded things, and Obi-Wan plucks the clunky receiver off the wall.

“Room 134, Obi-Wan Kenobi speaking,” He says, paying no mind to the rising chatter among the students. “How can I help you?” 

“Obi-Wan,” replies the warm, deep voice of Mr. Koon. “I thought a reminder may be in order that Anakin has a guidance appointment at noon today.” 

“Ah, yes,” Obi-Wan nods. “I’ll pass it on to him, thank you, Plo.” 

He hangs up the phones and the chatter dims but doesn’t die as he approaches Anakin, still asleep slumped over his desk. Obi-Wan crouches next to him, and the other students around them hush up as they wait to see what’s going to happen (out of the corner of his eye, he notices Rex trying to subtly cover up what he’d been working on, however, Rex is as subtle as Anakin is, which is to say, not very, and Obi-Wan spots what looks like chemistry. He turns a blind eye).

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan croons. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” He nudges Anakin’s shoulder, and the teen jerks upright with a snort, already wiping away the drool on his chin. 

“Wha--?” 

Obi-Wan smiles saccharine sweet at him. “Just a reminder that you have a guidance appointment at noon, love.” 

Anakin coughs, red in the face, and looks down at his desk. “Right, uh, thanks.” 

He squawks and swats Obi-Wan’s hand away when the man ruffles his hair with a chuckle. Some of the kids around them snicker, and Anakin sinks further into his seat. Obi-Wan doesn’t bother nagging him about his posture-- the boy has been put on the spot enough already. 

The rest of the class passes blissfully uneventfully. Obi-Wan passes around the first handout, finishes explaining the assignment, and even manages to fit in some extra time in the last few minutes for the students to start reading the first short story independently before they start reading it as a class tomorrow. The bell rings and immediately the students are packing up and evacuating, on their way to second period. Anakin offers him little other than a stuck-out tongue on his way out. 

Obi-Wan sits heavily at his desk as the last stragglers file out of the room, really starting to feel the fact that he hasn’t had any caffeine yet today. He gathers himself up, fully intending to make optimal use of the five minutes he has before his next class starts. On day ones it’s twelfth grade university-level english in the morning, followed by tenth grade history. Yippee , Obi-Wan thinks with one hundred percent sarcasm. 

Someone in the open doorway clearing their throat has Obi-Wan’s attention snapping up, and he startles out of his seat when he sees who it is. 

“Mister Fett!” Obi-Wan dashes over to greet the shop teacher leaning ever so slightly against the doorframe. The unique scar curled around the man’s brow stretches as he gives Obi-Wan a particular half smile that Obi-Wan has rather helplessly always found quite charming. “What a pleasant surprise.” 

“Mister Kenobi,” Cody greets him in turn. “I had a feeling you would be needing this.” In his hands he is holding two to-go cups from the nearby cafe, and he holds one out to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan keenly accepts it, careful not to let their fingers touch as he takes the hot cup-- he has an irrational fear just that little bit of contact would be electrifying enough to make him drop the cup, and he really does not want that. He pops the lid off to be met with the wonderful sight and smell of chai-- certainly caffeinated. He gives Cody a grateful smile. 

“My knight in shining armour.” He says. “How did you know?” 

A student squeezes past them, and the two teachers shuffle to take up less space in the doorway. Cody shrugs. “Seemed like it was gonna be one of those days,” he says. “Anyways, I’ve got to get down to the basement and unlock the workshop so my kids aren’t stranded in the hall, but I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

“I’m sure you will. I’m hard to miss.” Obi-Wan smirks and Cody returns it. 

“Yeah, especially when you’re swinging that flashy sword of yours around. Later, Kenobi.” And with that Cody is retreating into the between-classes traffic. 

“Goodbye,” Obi-Wan waves him off and returns to his desk as more kids start to arrive. He takes a sip of the tea and fights down a pleased little smile and the rabbit-rapid fluttering of his heart all at once, scolding himself in a voice that sounds suspiciously like vice-principal Windu’s about workplace appropriateness. 

Then he thinks back on their conversation and wants to smack himself-- ‘I’m hard to miss’ ? Seriously? Dear God, I’ve lost my touch , he thinks woefully, and promptly concludes it’s a miracle Cody even talks to him at all. 

Lunch both can’t come soon enough and comes way too soon for Anakin. The first thing he does when the bell rings at 11:45 is sprint out of the chemistry classroom (he’d scrambled to copy everything off of Rex’s worksheet in the minutes before the teacher collected them and he was certain the teacher could tell, and would tell Obi-Wan, and his shame was great) and down to Obi-Wan’s classroom before the man could retreat into the staff room. It took little needling to get the lunch money from Obi-Wan, which he handed over with a long suffering sigh and an order for Anakin to bring him a chocolate pudding in recompense. So Anakin races down to the cafeteria and gets his lasagna and Obi-Wan’s pudding, pockets the extra change with zero remorse and then runs back up to the guidance office. 

He gets there with a couple minutes to spare and plunks down in one of the seats around the long oval table to scarf down his lasagna in all its mushy glory. He's totally at ease in the familiar office-- Anakin has spent a lot of time in guidance over the years, he can freely admit with only a small pang of embarrassment. He claims one of those weird but fun wobbly seats at the end of the table and looks around the large office as he eats. Mr. Sinube is sitting behind the front desk today, probably asleep. The door behind the desk that leads to the main office is closed, but most of the counsellors’ office doors are open, except for Mr. Koon’s. He must be seeing someone else right now. 

There are a couple of other students milling around, too. One other sitting at the table with Anakin, very focused on their colouring sheet, two kids sitting on the couch by the back door, one clearly comforting the other about something, but their voice is tactfully low and Anakin can’t hear what they’re saying. Another is pretending like they’re looking at all the binders full of information about college applications but is actually very clearly eyeing the basket of condoms on the shelf next to them. Anakin is just placing bets with himself on whether or not they’re gonna work up the nerve to grab one when the door to Mr. Koon’s office opens and the same girl he and Rex had seen that morning walks out. She looks a lot crankier than she did earlier, a feisty set to her jaw, and Anakin supposes that’s better than looking like a frightened rabbit. 

She also has a baggy school sweater on, he notices as she storms out. It’s not hard to guess what coach Krell must have been yelling at her for. Mr. Koon calls him in, and Anakin grabs his bag and his mostly-eaten lasagna and walks into the small office. 

The Sikh man is sitting on one of the chairs at the small round table in the corner of his office as opposed to behind his desk as he usually did, which Anakin knows he does in order to seem friendlier, because new students tend to be a little scared of him-- not because of the turban, or at least, that had better not be the case, but because Mr. Koon has very… cryptic energy. Some kind of vaguely foreboding vibes, even though the man is actually very nice. 

Batman vibes. Mr. Koon is like Batman. 

“Good afternoon, Mister Skywalker,” Mr. Koon smiles at him-- or at least, Anakin is pretty sure he’s smiling, based off the lines on his face. The man’s beard is so thick there’s debate on whether or not he actually has a mouth. He sounds like he’s smiling. “Take a seat. How have you been?” 

“Alright,” Anakin places his bag on the floor and sits across from Mr. Koon. “I mean, it’s only been a couple weeks, but things are picking up, I guess.”

Mr. Koon nods. “Yes. Now, we’ve already had our start-of-year check in. I remember you had questions already about scholarships. Are you here to explore those options some more?” 

“No, uh,” Anakin drums his fingers on the table, watching the jerky movements of his prosthetic hand. “Well, partly. I was actually thinking about it all some more, and I was wondering if you could help me with, uh, early college applications?” 

The guidance counsellor nods sagely, already pulling out a thick folder. “Of course,” he says. “Let’s see what I can do.”

By the time Anakin emerges from the office he’s nearly shaking in nervous anticipation. The appointment had gone way longer than he thought it would, but now he’s already ready to put in an early application to pretty much every college and university he’s ever even considered going to. Just the application fees are going to be expensive, Anakin knows, and an unbidden memory resurfaces of Obi-Wan late at night, sitting at the kitchen table, nearly a dozen bills spread out in front of him, his head in his hands. He’d thought Anakin was asleep. He wasn’t. 

It’s going to be fine. He’ll apply for as many scholarships as he can, get a part time job if he has to. They’re not going to end up on the streets or anything-- Anakin shudders-- they’re going to be fine. 

The bell ringing startles Anakin out of his musings, and he swears, breaking out into a run towards the stairwell. He may have a pretty blasé attitude towards most of his classes-- except physics, but he doesn’t have that until next semester-- but shop is pretty much the only class Anakin has right now that he actually really likes, and he does not want to be late. Also, Obi-Wan would forgive him pretty much anything, except probably murder, but Rex’s older brother is intimidating as hell. Rex swears Cody was never in the army, but he totally could be if he wanted to. Man, that guy has a good yell.

Speaking of good yells, it’s as Anakin is sprinting down the stairs to the basement that a sudden fierce shout echoing in the stairwell above him almost sends him somersaulting down the last flight.

“Skywalker!” Vice-principal Windu thunders, and Anakin freezes, catching himself on the railing. He cringes and slowly turns around as the second VP storms down the steps towards him. “What have I told you about running on the stairs!”

“To… not… do it.” Anakin hesitates, and Mr. Windu crosses his arms… well, crossly. 

“This is the fourth time I have caught you like this in just two weeks . You know what that means, Skywalker.”

Anakin gapes at him, starting to protest, but Mr. Windu has already started speaking. “Detention, one hour, after school, today. You know where to be.” 

“What! An hour! This is outrageous, it’s unfair! An hour?!” Anakin cries before he can think better of it. Mr. Windu just raises a very unimpressed eyebrow at him. 

“Would you like it to be two? I can make it two.”

Anakin splutters. “But I have practise--“

“Oh, I’m aware.” Mr. Windu snaps. “Maybe next time, you will think twice about your blatant disregard for the rules.” 

“I wasn’t even— it’s not even a big deal—“ 

“Two hours.” Mr. Windu’s words are painfully final, and with the last word firmly in his grasp he brushes past Anakin and exits the stairwell, leaving the teen fuming on the stairs. 

Anakin snarls and kicks the railing viciously, his blood boiling. He can’t miss practise! 

But he can’t skip detention, either— especially not in his senior year, when that will look really bad on his record. 

Second bell rings, and Anakin stomps and curses all the way to shop.

Chapter Text

Apparently, Obi-Wan had heard what happened and managed to negotiate Anakin’s detention back down to one hour, but couldn’t get him out of it entirely, not even for the first fencing practise of the year. The rest of the school staff lets Obi-Wan get away with a lot of blatant favouritism, considering Anakin is his adopted son/brother/burden-- but not that much. So after dropping off Obi-Wan’s coveted pudding after class, instead of gearing up to totally kick ass with his shiny new sabre (he made the upgrade from foil just this summer, and he’s been practising non-stop, damnit) he’s dragging his feet to the library for detention. 

Mrs. Nu is there, typing away at something on the computer at her desk that’s as ancient as she is. She barely even acknowledges his arrival, even when he saunters up to the desk. 

“Mrs. Nu,” he says, laying the schoolboy charm on thick. Schoolboy charm doesn’t usually pair cohesively with the chains attached to Anakin’s ripped black jeans, but he makes it work. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“Stop getting detention, then, Mr. Skywalker.” Mrs. Nu says without missing a beat or stopping her typing. “Have a seat.” 

Anakin sighs. Then he remembers that Mrs. Nu is immune to even Obi-wan’s charms, in fact she seems to have some sort of vendetta against him, and that makes him feel better. 

There’s only one other kid sitting at the main studying tables where students in detention are supposed to be, and, to Anakin’s surprise, it’s the same girl from this morning, and the guidance office. She’s practically swimming in that huge hoodie, and probably sweating like hell too. God, the dress school at this school is so stupid. Anakin maneuvers between the tables and sets himself right across from the girl, who looks up at his arrival. 

“Uh, hi?” She says, keeping her voice down. They are in a library, after all, and detention.

“Hi.” Anakin grins. “You’re a freshman, right?” 

The girl nods. “Yeah, and just off to a great start.” She rolls her eyes. Anakin laughs. 

“Yeah, I saw coach Krell yelling at you this morning. He just sucks, don’t let him get to you.”

“Oh, I’d been warned about coach Krell, I just didn’t realize he was a huge douchebag, too. He dress coded me because my shirt was tight enough to see my bra through, which, ew, why are you even looking, but also it’s literally not even my fault.” The girl crossed her arms and slumped forward on top of her open binder, propping her chin on her arms. “My name’s Ahsoka Tano, by the way.” 

Anakin smiles. “Anakin Skywalker,” he says. “I’m here because Mr. Windu hates me personally, I think.” 

Ahsoka looks at him dubiously. “Really.” 

“Yeah!” (Mrs. Nu shushes him.) “Yeah,” He repeats, quieter. “I don’t know what his problem is. Obi-Wan showed up hungover once and the guy didn’t say anything, but vape in the bathroom once as a freshman and for the next four years it’s like I killed his dog or something.” 

“I think I’m on Mr. Windu’s side, here.” Ahsoka smirks. “You have to be pretty dumb to be vaping, let alone in the school bathroom, let alone get caught doing it.”

Anakin mock-frowns. “Don’t get snippy with me, shortstack.” Then he mutters, “Obi-Wan definitely agreed with you though. That was one of the most thorough scoldings I ever got.” 

“Who’s Obi-Wan?” 

“Mr. Kenobi,” Anakin corrects himself. “He’s a teacher here, I don’t know if you’d have him, he doesn’t usually teach grade nine.”

“Yeah, I don’t have him.”

“He’s my brother. Adopted, don’t get it twisted, if I actually shared DNA with that guy I’d probably have to fake my death and flee the country.” Anakin jokes as he opens up his backpack and pulls out his own project-- not schoolwork, though, blueprints for a personal robotics project. Ahsoka laughs, and Mrs. Nu shushes them both again. They both wince and pipe down, but Ahsoka seems more relaxed now than she was when he came in. “So, what’s your story, Tano?” Anakin keeps his voice to a whisper. Ahsoka shrugs and looks wistfully out the window. 

“I don’t know. I’d wanted to check out the fencing practise today, but, well, guess that’s not gonna happen. Stupid Krell,” she mutters, and Anakin’s face lights up with a grin. 

“You do fencing?” He asks, and Ahsoka shrugs again, this time looking down at the table. 

“Uh-- no. I just thought it looked cool.” 

“Oh. Well, it is cool! I do fencing, like competitively and, heh,” Anakin flips his hair. “I’m pretty much the best fencer in the school-- probably even in the whole city. Maybe I can show you the ropes. Take you, the underdog, under my wing.” 

The freshman girl just snorts at him. “Sure, Skyguy. Sounds to me like you’ve got your head in the clouds.” 

Anakin pouts, but it pretty quickly turns into a smile. Maybe this detention won’t be such a waste after all. 

Ahsoka’s detention was only half an hour long, so when the girl packed up her things and waved goodbye to him with an enthusiastic smile just half way through Anakin’s own hour-long sentence, he hadn't expected to see much more of the girl for another little while. 

So his surprise is pretty legitimate when he walks out of the library another half hour later only to find Ahsoka sitting on the ground in the main foyer, back to the wall and staring down at her phone. He can’t say for sure why, but alarm bells start going off in his head. 

“Hey, Ahsoka,” He walks over to where she’s sitting. “Kinda thought you’d be long gone by now.”

Ahsoka looks up at him, clearly a little startled but hiding it well. “Huh? Oh, I’m just waiting for my, uh, foster parents to get back to me on whether or not they can give me a ride home.” 

Ah. 

A sudden, intense wave of protectiveness comes over Anakin in that moment. He’d been thinking of going down and seeing if the football tryouts are over yet-- fencing practise definitely is-- but all those plans are out the window now. He dumps his bag and settles on the floor next to her. “Want me to wait with you?” 

“Uh, sure.” Ahsoka checks her phone again. Anakin fiddles with his prosthetic like he tends to do when he’s bored or has nothing else to do with his hands-- or when he has nothing else to do with his hand except fiddle with it. 

It had taken him a long time to be able to think of his prosthetic hand as ‘his’ hand. Sometimes, when his brain sends identical signals to move down both his arms and his hands don’t move in sync like he wants them to, it’s impossible not to feel frustrated. But he’s gotten past the point of seeing his prosthetic as an alien object stuck to his body, and he’s proud of himself for that. He can hold both his hands out in front of him, reaching up to the sky, and think, these are my hands . 

He’s had it for years and years. It’s normal to him. 

Almost no one else thinks of it as normal. 

Out of the corner of his eye Anakin can see Ahsoka staring as he fiddles with the conductive pads on his fingertips that allow him to use a touchscreen with his right hand. (He’s left-handed-- obviously, because he’d grown up with just the one hand, but in recent years he’s trained himself to be pretty well ambidextrous). Normally, Anakin would get mad at the staring, lash out at whoever couldn't just mind their own business, but this time, he doesn’t. He feels a natural kinship with Ahsoka. Between the creamy-white patches on her otherwise brown skin, and the too-small clothes that Anakin is now sure are simply because she doesn’t have access to new clothes that fit properly, she probably gets just as many gawkers as he does. 

“Pretty neat, right?” Anakin curls and uncurls his fingers just to show off the mechanics. “One day I’m gonna build myself a hand so high tech, it’ll be better than any kind of flesh and bone hand I could have ever been born with.” 

“Did you build that yourself?” Ahsoka asks, more than a little awed, and Anakin has to laugh.

“No, but I have made some modifications. Don’t tell Obi-Wan, though, or he’ll lecture me about our insurance and I just don’t have time for that.” 

Ahsoka laughs too and then falls silent, checking her messages again. Judging from her disappointed sigh, he’s gonna guess there’s been no response yet. Another few moments pass in silence before Anakin looks over and notices Ahsoka poking at the patches on her face. 

“How do you…” she hesitates, “How do you deal with-- being different?” 

Anakin doesn’t answer right away, honestly not sure what to say. She could be talking about a couple of things: being very visibly different from her peers, or being a kid from the system, or both. Probably both. He wishes he could give her some wise, life-changing advice, but he’s never been that good with words. His notebooks full of garbage love poems about Padmé is a testament to that. But still, this kid-- because she’s definitely a kid, a ninth grader, might not even be fourteen yet, she’s practically a baby compared to Anakin’s seventeen-going-on-eighteen-- is reaching out to him, a stranger she identifies with, for guidance, so damn it if Anakin won’t do everything he can to help her. 

“Well,” he starts, “I’ve always been fond of the old adage, ‘talk shit, get hit’.” 

Clearly Ahsoka wasn’t expecting that answer, and she gives a startled laugh. “What?” 

“Yeah. If someone ever talked shit to or about me, I’d punch ‘em in the face. You… probably shouldn't follow my example, though.” 

“What should I do, then?” 

“I dunno. Listen to My Chemical Romance. Keep your head up, don’t care so much what everyone thinks of you because it has no bearing on your worth as a person, what matters is that you’re comfortable with yourself, not the opinion of ignorant jerks and all that? I know, I know, easier said than done, but that’s kinda all there is to it.” Anakin taps his chin in thought. “Although, knowing how to throw a good punch does help.” 

“Oh, and,” Anakin adds as an afterthought. “Here’s one of Obi-Wan’s goopiest sayings-- you haven’t met everyone who will ever love you yet, or, like, there are people out there that love you that you haven't met yet, or-- something like that, I don’t remember. But the way he said it was nice, and, I don’t know, comforting I guess.” 

He rubs sheepishly at the back of his neck, cringing at himself a little. “Sorry, that probably wasn’t very helpful.”

“No, it actually was.” Ahsoka smiles. “Especially the part about punching people.”

Anakin groans. “Hey, I never claimed to be well adjusted. Just… look, if you ever need anything, whether you want someone shoved in a locker, or to not sit alone at lunch, or someone to talk to— maybe not if you need advice because I can’t guarantee my advice will be good— you can come find me, alright? I’m in your corner, okay Snips?” 

Ahsoka raises an eyebrow at him. Anakin finds people tend to do that around him quite a lot. “Snips?” 

“Because you’re snippy.” 

“Then I’m gonna keep calling you Skyguy, because it sounds kind of stupid, so it fits you perfectly.” Ahsoka fires back right away, and Anakin gapes at her, shocked and offended and very amused. 

“Wh— hey! See, that’s exactly what I mean! Snippy!” 

But Ahsoka is giggling, a happy sound that for some reason reminds Anakin of those old Tinkerbell movies, and that feeling of fraternal protectiveness comes over him again. 

He pulls out his phone and checks the time. It’s gonna be dinnertime pretty soon. “Any word from your foster folks yet?” 

Another glance at her phone proves that no, there has still been no response from Ahsoka’s foster folks, and Anakin bites back a frown. 

“Want me to give you a ride, then? I’ve got a car and nowhere else to be, it wouldn’t be any trouble.” 

Ahsoka looks uncertain, nibbling at her lip while she looks down at her phone again. Then she says, “Sure,” types something out, probably telling her foster parents she won’t need that ride after all, then puts the device away and stands up. Anakin does the same, slinging his bag over his shoulder and digging through his pocket for his car keys. 

They head outside and walk around the school to the teacher’s parking lot. Anakin jams his key into the driver’s side door and unlocks it. He tosses his bag in the backseat and sighs at the sight of his fencing gear just sitting back there, sad and unused. It’s hard to tell what Ahsoka’s reaction to the car is, in fact she’s probably pretty indifferent to it, most people don’t have strong feelings about cars, but Anakin keeps an eye out for her reaction anyway. 

He loves this car more than almost anything else. Ol’ Artoo has been in the family since before Anakin was even in the picture, but the old, silver-and-blue Subaru runs smooth like a dream and is practically a tank of a car, bottom heavy and strong as hell. Yeah, Artoo’s a good car. 

Ahsoka gets into the passenger seat and blinks at how far back she’s sitting from the dash-- a result of Anakin’s long legs and his tendency to push the seat all the way back every time he’s in it. She huffs and reaches down for the lever to bring the seat forward, and likewise, Anakin squawks when he gets in the driver’s seat and his knees immediately smack into the steering wheel. Every time Obi-Wan drives he adjusts the seat to fit his (much) shorter stature, and never puts it back before getting out. Though, Anakin has never put the seat back the way it was when he’s done, either. 

“Okay, what’s your address?” Anakin asks as he turns the car on and grabs his phone. Ahsoka tells him, rattling off the downtown address, and he puts it into his phone’s maps app, and gets the navigation ready. 

He reaches for the AUX cord. “Any music requests?” 

Ahsoka just shrugs, so Anakin hits shuffle on Paramore and, as the opening notes of Ain’t It Fun start up along with the navigation voice, he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street. 

No one can ever agree on whether or not Anakin is a good driver. Obi-Wan always looks distinctly green when he stumbles out of the car when Anakin is driving, Rex always has a death grip on the seat even though he insists he’s fine, Padme always breathes a sigh of relief when they reach their destination without crashing… 

Actually, it would be more accurate to say Anakin thinks he’s a great driver, and he can’t get anyone to agree with him. Judging by the way Ahsoka is holding onto the handle above the door for dear life as Anakin swings around a corner at inadvisable speeds, today will not be the day he wins that argument. But he’s never crashed, never hit anyone or anything, never will, and he passed his road test with flying colours on the first try, so nyeh nyeh.

“Geez,” Ahsoka says through gritted teeth when he screeches to a slamming stop at a red light. “Do you always drive like you’re in a high-stakes car chase?”

“It’s practise for when I someday inevitably get into one.” He smirks. The light turns green, and he takes off speeding again-- bad idea since rush hour is almost in full swing-- but he meant it when he said he’ll never crash. The navigation tells him that the next turn will be a left one, and he bullies his way into the left lane.

“So,” Anakin says, casually like he’s not driving like he’s driving away from the devil, “Have you been in this home long?” 

“No,” Ahsoka replies, eyes fixated out the window. “Not that long. Feels like it’s been forever, though.” 

Anakin frowns. “Why do you say that?” 

“Well… the house is always empty, and quiet, and nothing ever happens. Hardly anyone is ever home, they’re always out. The whole house is like a… like some kind of in-between-- a liminal space. Time doesn’t even exist there.” Ahsoka says it all like it’s no cause for concern, but she probably knows it is. Anakin, too, knows what it is to talk about things that suck as if they don’t suck. “Oh, well. It’s still better than the last place, so can’t really complain.”

Anakin has to keep himself from gripping the steering wheel too hard. Ahsoka sounds so dejected talking about it, he doesn’t want to think about what her last home was like.

He tries switching the subject to something a little more lighthearted. “So, who’s your favourite teacher so far?” 

“Technically not a teacher, but,” Ahsoka smiles. “Mr. Plo.” 

Anakin smiles, too. “Aw, yeah, Mr. Koon is pretty cool. Did you know that a few years back, there was a petition to make him the school mascot?” 

Ahsoka giggles. “No, I didn’t know that.” Then her expression turns more wistful. “Mr. Plo is actually an old family friend. He wasn’t able to claim custody of me when my family— after the accident, but he’s always looked out for me best he could all the same.”

There isn’t much that Anakin feels like he can say to that. He wants to say he understands, which he does to an extent, but in reality, he’d been really lucky to have been taken in by Qui-Gon and then Obi-Wan so soon after he’d been separated from his mom. Yeah, those months had been awful, but they were just that-- only months. From the sound of it, Ahsoka’s been in the system a lot longer than he had, and hasn’t had the same chances. 

He wishes there was something he could do. 

The rest of the relatively-short car ride passes in silence-- with the exception of the music and the navigation. Eventually they pull up to an old townhouse, with an empty driveway and no signs of life from inside. 

“Hey,” Anakin says as Ahsoka starts to unbuckle her seatbelt, and she pauses to look at him. “Do you have an instagram?” 

“Yeah,” she says, a little uncertainly. “I hardly ever post anything, though.”

“That’s fine. I just wanna be able to message you when the next fencing practise is, if you still wanna check it out.” Anakin grabs his phone from where he’d stuck it upside down and backwards in the cupholder. “And I thought asking for your phone number would have weird connotations, considering you’re a small child and I have a girlfriend.” 

“I’m not a small child--” 

“Then why are you the size of one, Snips?” 

“Ugh.” Ahsoka huffs, but Anakin can tell she’s not actually mad. “My instagram is spotted-dot-soka, all lowercase.” 

“Ah, there you are.” Anakin sends a request to follow ‘spotted.soka’, and Ahsoka’s phone chimes. She checks the notification and gives him a wry smile. 

“What the hell is… D-three-- no, DethStarXX?” She turns the screen to him, showing plainly the notification saying that ‘D3thSt4rXX’ has requested to follow. In spite of himself, Anakin blushes. 

“I picked it when I was, like, twelve, give me a break!” 

“And you haven’t changed it? Wow, you’re so brave.” 

“Oh my god, stop attacking me and get out of my car.” Anakin groans, and Ahsoka cackles as she gets out. 

“Hey Skyguy, thanks for the ride!” She grins at him before closing the door and scurrying up the steps to the front door. Anakin waits, watching, as she pulls out her keys and unlocks the door, and he only drives away once she’s safely inside the house.

His mind races the whole way home, oscillating between thinking that he wants to help somehow and not knowing how he can help. He’s thinking about it even when he facetimes Padme, when he makes his dinner (good old kraft dinner), and he’s still thinking about it as he sits on the couch scrolling through tiktok for two hours.

The train of thought is interrupted when he hears a car pull up outside, and he looks out the window to see a car stopped on the road just outside the entrance to their building. Obi-Wan gets out of the passenger seat, and the sight of his legal guardian smiling and saying something to whoever was driving reminds Anakin once more how legitimately lucky he is to have Obi-Wan.

And that’s when he gets a crazy idea. 

Earlier that afternoon

It takes every scrap of willpower Obi-Wan has not to pace outside the double doors of the shop classroom, the chocolate pudding Anakin had given him in hand. He can’t dilly-dally too much, he has to get up to the gym to start fencing practise soon. But nerves keep him from opening the door. 

Over the last five years since Cody has started teaching here, the two of them have slowly-- very slowly-- but surely, gotten to know each other. Though he means it when he says very slowly, he and Cody had spoken maybe twice that whole first year, after all, they did teach very different subjects and weren’t in the same department. But as Obi-Wan taught more of Cody’s younger siblings and eventually Cody started teaching Anakin, their friendship started to pick up a little more. 

Now, if only Obi-Wan could keep his insides from twisting up in nauseous elation every time he and Cody are within twenty feet of each other.

It’s as Obi-Wan has this incriminating thought that the door to the workshop swings open, and he jumps back, startled. Cody is standing right there, half out the door, clearly just as surprised to see Obi-Wan there. 

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan recovers quickly. He holds out the pudding, and the attached plastic spoon, in both hands. “Here, as a thank you for the tea this morning.”

Cody accepts it, even as he says, “You didn’t have to do this.”

Obi-Wan smirks. “I didn’t, really. I made Anakin fetch it.” 

That gets a laugh out of Cody, and Obi-Wan’s eyes widen fractionally, and he already knows he’s going to be thinking about that sound for a long time. Cody is a very serious man, and his laughter is rare.

A group of students pass by on their way out of the school, and Obi-Wan steps aside so Cody can close and lock the workshop door. “You’ve got parent-teacher interviews later, right?” The shop teacher asks as he locks up. Obi-Wan sighs, and the two teachers start walking towards the stairwell.

“Just a few, but I expect I’ll be kept busy quite late, tonight. One of my meetings is with a couple that are those types of parents, you know, who refuse to believe their child can do any wrong whatsoever. So discussing the issues surrounding the holocaust jokes their child made on the second day is going to be, well… arduous.”

Cody winces. “Damn, good luck. Hey, if you need a ride later after dealing with that, I’ve got some stuff to work on here once football tryouts are done with-- I could drive you home if you want?”

Obi-Wan stops in his tracks, certain he didn’t hear that right-- except he did. “I-- wouldn’t want to be any trouble…” 

“No trouble,” Cody assures him. 

“Well, then, that would be most appreciated. Thank you, Cody.” Obi-Wan smiles gratefully, and Cody holds his gaze for a long moment before responding.

“Any time, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan spins and marches up the steps, resolutely not looking back even as he hears Cody continue walking behind him, not wanting the other man to see the lighting-struck expression on his face. Cody has never, never called him by his first name before, only ‘Mr. Kenobi’, or just ‘Kenobi’. They reach the first floor, and Obi-Wan retreats into the hallway as Cody goes the other way, out the door that leads outside, not another word exchanged between them. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t frustrated with Anakin for getting detention on the day of the first fencing practise. They’d discussed it and concluded that he has a very good and unique opportunity for scholarships based on his fencing skills, and, to be frank, Anakin is going to need every cent of scholarship money he can scrounge up, or university won’t even be an option for him. And few things make Obi-Wan’s heart ache more than the concept of his little brother not being able to achieve his dreams. He wants Anakin to have the things he couldn’t have. He wants to help him, he’s sacrificed so much already for him. 

A small, bitter part of him wishes Anakin would just appreciate that more.

Obi-Wan puts it out of his mind as the students start filing in, some with their own gear and some with gear borrowed from the school. He zips up his jacket and starts setting up for opening exercises.

Technically speaking, even though they’re two weeks into the school year, it is still summer. So when the last pair of parents leaves his classroom in a huff at seven pm, the sun hasn’t even begun to set. This upsets Obi-Wan because he is exhausted enough for it to feel like it should be night time, but it doesn’t look like night time outside at all, and all he wants to do is lie down and sleep. He forces himself to stand up from the desk he’d occupied for the meetings, though, gather his things, and lock up the classroom. 

He doubts Cody is still here, but he trudges down to the basement anyway, because he would really like nothing more than to not have to deal with public transportation after that whole ordeal. It had taken every diplomatic skill he has to remain civil as the obviously rich and privileged parents of the student who’d said very offensive things in his class last week talked over him and just refused to accept that their son had done anything wrong, saying he was just a child and so shouldn’t be held accountable for the things he said, apparently, and that it wasn’t even a big deal (it was). Good lord but Obi-Wan wants to tear his hair out just thinking about it. 

Obi-Wan’s internal fumings are put to rest when he reaches the workshop. He tries the doorknob, and-- to his surprise-- it twists and the door opens, and inside, Cody is leaning against a table, bag packed next to him, on his phone. 

“Hey, Kenobi,” Cody looks up upon his entry, and sticks his phone back into his jean pocket. “Ready to go?” 

He was waiting for me , Obi-Wan realizes, and he nods. 

As Cody walks up to him, it occurs to Obi-Wan that he must not look very put together; the bags under his eyes feel dark, and his hair is probably still messy from his helmet despite his attempts to neaten it before talking to the parents. Trying not to feel self-conscious, he inconspicuously pats his hair flat once more.

Obi-Wan is 100% certain that one of the requirements of being a Fett is that you have to drive some kind of van. Any kind of van. He’s never seen a Fett behind the wheel of any other kind of vehicle. Although, it makes sense, considering how large the family is. 

Cody’s vehicle is no different. Eight seats, all bearing signs of having teens and small children occupy them frequently. Obi-Wan wonders if Cody still lives at home with his family. Judging by the interior of his car, he figures it’s a safe bet to say he does.

“You live nearby?” Cody asks him as he turns the key and the van rumbles to life. 

“Yes, it’s a fairly simple drive, I can direct you as we go. Thank you again for this,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody gives him a nod. They start driving, and Obi-Wan occasionally speaks up to give Cody directions, telling him where to turn and which exit in the roundabout to take.

He’d expected to feel nervous, or a least a little awkward, being alone in a car with Cody, but the silence between them is actually easy and comfortable and companionable. The sun is warm through the car windows and he actually feels peaceful, like he could take a nap at any second. Words can’t describe how relieved Obi-Wan is. It’s been a long day, and he’s tired, and hungry, and if he had to conjure up or sustain small talk with his coworker that he has a very embarrassing and unwitting crush on, he might have just thrown himself into the street and let Cody run him over instead. 

He leans his head back against the headrest and relishes in the warm rays of sun on his face, letting his eyes slip shut for the barest of moments before prying them open again. He feels at ease, but not enough to actually fall asleep in Cody’s car. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t notice Cody’s gaze flicking over to him every few seconds before finally settling on the road in front of them, then switching back to him.

It only takes a few minutes to get to Obi-Wan and Anakin’s condo, and when Cody stops right in front of the entrance Obi-Wan feels regretful that the drive didn’t last longer. He actually feels light and relaxed when he steps out of the car, and when he turns back, Cody rolls down the passenger window so they can speak. 

“I know I’ve already thanked you for this more than once, but I feel the need to thank you again.” For more than just the drive itself. He smiles, and Cody smiles back. 

“It really was no trouble, Kenobi. Have a nice night, alright, and I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yes, see you tomorrow. Goodnight,” Obi-Wan says, then steps back and goes inside without looking back, even though he wants to. 

When he gets up to the flat (he’d taken the elevator in a rare indulgence in laziness) Anakin is standing in the middle of the living room, a mad grin on his face.

Chapter Text

Every year, every single damn year, Obi-Wan fools himself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, this time they’ll be able to settle into an actual routine within the first month of the school year. Once again, their prospects are not looking good, because they’re already three weeks in and here Obi-Wan finds himself, sitting at the kitchen table, wishing so hard he knew how to astral project, so he could be literally anywhere but here at this very moment. 

Anakin is standing in front of the old printer, frantically typing at something on his laptop, a piece of toast in his mouth, looking rapidly between the printer and his laptop. “I’m just saying --” he says through the toast in his mouth. “It’s a good idea! We have the room--”

“Are you daft?” Obi-Wan cuts him off, running a tired hand through his hair. He checks the time on the stove. It’s been fifteen minutes since he fed Threepio his breakfast, time for meds. He gets up from the table, and Anakin continues to yell to him from across the small condo.

“Hey, that’s a dollar in the british slang jar!”

“I’m not going along with that idea either, Anakin!”

“No, but really! We can turn the office into a bedroom, you hardly use it anyway--”

“You’re using it right now!” Obi-Wan throws Anakin a baffled look through the open doorway to the office that Anakin is, indeed, using, because it’s where the printer is located. “Also, why on earth didn’t you get this assignment done and printed last night, if it’s due first thing this morning?”

“I was busy last night!”

“Doing what?”

“None of your business!”

“Dear lord,” Obi-Wan sighs and grabs Threepio’s bag of medicines, looking around for the dog. 

“Anyway--”

“We are not having this conversation again, Anakin!”

“I’m just saying!” Anakin comes out of the office and closes the door behind him with more force than necessary, printed assignment in hand. “We can help her!” 

“Look, she sounds lovely, Anakin, but you’ve barely known this girl for a week at this point. How do you even know she would want to move in with us?”

“Why wouldn’t she!?” Anakin gestures broadly around them, and Obi-Wan has no idea what he could possibly be referring to. “Why aren’t you just listening to me!” 

Obi-Wan can sense Anakin’s temper rising like a storm on the horizon. “Anakin--” he tries to diffuse, but he just gets steamrolled over by the teenager’s righteous anger.

“No! Why don’t you want to help !? Do you even care at all!? I swear it’s like you don’t even have  a fucking heart sometimes!”

A flash of hurt lights up in Obi-Wan’s chest, and it must flicker across his face for a moment as well, because Anakin visibly backs down, looking guilty. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, carefully calm. “It’s very noble of you to want to help Ahsoka, and believe me, I want to as well. But I simply do not know if we can afford to support another person, right now.” He sighs. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do, alright?” 

That doesn’t get the reaction from Anakin he was expecting. Really, he doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t for Anakin to start grinning at him as he stuffed his assignment into his backpack. “You’re the best, Obi-Wan!” He says, pulling his shoes on and going to the door. “I’m gonna go wait in the car. See ya!” 

And then he was out of the condo like a whirlwind, leaving Obi-Wan standing in the middle of the room, Threepio’s pill bottles in hand, very little other than confused. 

Ahsoka would rather be dead than be late, so she always takes an unreasonably early bus to get to school. Unfortunately, while this does mean she’s definitely on time for class, it also means she has at least half an hour of time to kill every morning and not much in the way of friends, yet. 

She spends most of this time exploring. Wandering the mostly-empty school hallways, looking for every interesting nook and cranny within the mostly beige and generally flavourless building. Some days she sits at her locker and messes around on her phone the whole time. Some days she does schoolwork. But today, she’s wandering. 

Ahsoka walks with purpose and tries not to look like a tourist as she heads outside for once, to the back of the school, to check out the graffiti along the back wall. The graffiti accumulates over the days and every week or so the wall gets power washed clean again, only for more graffiti to appear in its place. As far as she knows, no culprits have ever been caught. 

The sun comes out from behind a cloud and immediately it seems to warm up by a few degrees. Ahsoka sighs and pushes up the sleeves of the hoodie she’d been bestowed last week— she’s been continuing to wear it because she didn’t want to take any chances on getting dress coded again. 

It’s a Thursday, almost the end of the week, so there’s a fair amount of art thrown up on the wall, now. Some of it is actually pretty cool, and Ahsoka wonders why the school hasn’t just given in and allotted the space for students to paint murals. Though, like most schools, she guesses it’s just because they prioritize their sports over any of the arts. It’s as she’s examining a particularly interestingly stylized gendered profanity that a voice booming from across the back field behind her has her jumping nearly four feet in the air. 

“HEY, AHSOKA ! SNIPS!” 

Ahsoka spins around and sees, in the distance, Anakin Skywalker sitting with a small group of people up on the bleachers, waving his whole arm vigorously at her. She blinks, and, knowing when she’s being summoned, she makes her way across the field towards the bleachers. Anakin is still waving. The three other boys he’s sitting with share an obvious and startlingly strong family resemblance— must be more Fetts, she knows, there are a couple of Fett boys and one girl in her classes, cousins, she thinks. She’s been well informed that the school is full of them. These ones, though, she doesn’t know. 

“Hey, Snips!” Anakin greets enthusiastically when she finally reaches them. There’s an open lunchbox in his lap, and open containers of food spread amongst the four of them like a picnic. “Cmon, have a seat! We were just talking about you.” 

“Oh, great,” Ahsoka rolls her eyes even as she does sit, a level down from where Anakin is sitting, across from the blond boy, and above the other two. She and Anakin have been talking and hanging out intermittently throughout the last week, including before school, but this is the first time his other friends have also been there. 

Anakin laughs. He’s in a very good mood. “Just good things, promise. Ahsoka, this is my buddy Rex,” he gestures to the older, blond boy across from her, who waves, “and his little brothers Fives and Echo. They’re twins.”

Fives and Echo both smile. They’re identical, except for the fact that the one that responded to ‘Fives’ is clearly trying very hard to grow facial hair, and the one who responded to ‘Echo’ has hearing aids in. 

“Rex, Echo and Fives, this is Ahsoka Tano. She’s a freshman under my protection.” 

Ahsoka snorts. “I don’t need protection, but thanks.” She says, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Likewise, kid.” Rex says. “Hey, want a bearpaw?” 

He takes the second brownie out of one of the packages in his hands and offers it to Ahsoka, and she takes it with a smile. Beside her, one of the twins, Fives, gapes at them both. “Wh— so Echo got a bearpaw, and Ahsoka gets a bearpaw, but I don’t get a bearpaw!?”

Rex levels him a flat look. “Echo is a little angel and Ahsoka is officially under Anakin’s protection. I am obligated by state law to give them bearpaws. You, however, are a gremlin that wouldn’t shut up about Deathnote for the whole car ride this morning so you don’t get a bearpaw.”

“That’s not a real law!” 

Ahsoka giggles as she takes a bite of the bearpaw, and notices Anakin not bothering to hide his grin either. She’s never had much in the way of siblings— any other foster kids she ever stayed with, she never formed many close bonds with— so watching the brothers interact is a new kind of interesting to her. 

“Sorry, Fives. Weebs don’t get bearpaws.” Echo smirks at his twin. Fives makes a wounded noise and clutches dramatically at his heart. 

“Augh, betrayed by my own twin!” He cries, slowly sinking backwards onto the bench. “Ah fuck, I can’t believe you’ve done this!”

“This is why you don’t have bearpaw privileges.” Anakin nudges Fives’ leg with his foot. Fives just pouts up at the sky. 

As Ahsoka is stuffing the last of the snack in her mouth Anakin turns to her and smiles. “Welcome to the group, Snips. It’s like this pretty much all the time.” 

Rex nods to confirm, and Ahsoka smiles behind her hand, conscious of the half-eaten brownie in her mouth. “Awesome,” she says, and thinks that this means she’s actually got friends now. 

Inside the school, Obi-Wan Kenobi is not having nearly as nice a morning. He’s sitting in Plo Koon’s office and resisting the urge to pull all his hair out as he rests his elbows on the table and continuously runs his hands through the already frazzled strands. 

“I just don’t know what to do, Plo,” he laments to the guidance counsellor that he’s known since he was a teenager himself, “I’m not in a position to— there just isn’t—“ 

Plo puts a weathered hand on his shoulder when he cuts himself off and sucks in a lungful of air. “Relax, Obi-Wan,” he says. “Use your tools. Recenter yourself and start from the beginning.”

Obi-Wan shakily nods his head and sits up straight, patting his hair flat once more and tugging his rumpled clothes back into place. He takes deep, even breaths and catalogues everything in the office he can— the somewhat uncomfortable chair he’s sitting in, the colour of the wall under the various motivational posters and artworks tacked to it, the sunlight coming in through the gaps in the shades over the window, the number of pens on Plo’s desk, the various small picture frames facing the opposite direction from them. Once he’s calmed down enough, he takes a deep breath and tells Plo what happened.

“Well, you see, last week Anakin met and befriended a young girl named Ahsoka Tano, determined her home situation to be unfavourable, and subsequently got it in his head that she should live with us instead.” He sighs and rubs his chin. “He’s been adamant , Plo, and this morning I told him I couldn't make any promises but he seems to have taken that as a yes for some reason. He said that Ahsoka knows you, so I thought perhaps you might be able to help in this situation.” 

Plo leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers, looking deep in thought for a moment. Then, eventually, he says, “I think it’s a good idea.”

Obi-Wan balks at him. “Wh-- you do?”

“Yes.” Behind the man’s thick glasses, Obi-Wan thinks he spots a gleeful glint in Plo’s eyes. “It’s both your and her decision, of course, but I do think it is a good idea. You understand her situation from having similar life experiences, and you’ve done very well raising Anakin.” 

“You--” Obi-Wan blinks. “I have?” 

“Yes,” Plo repeats. “If you truly do not think of this as a realistic option, then that’s fine. But if you like, I can talk to Ahsoka about it, and see what she thinks.” 

Feeling a little dumbstruck, Obi-Wan closes his mouth and just nods. Plo seems pleased with this response. 

Ahsoka says goodbye to her new friends when first bell rings, running ahead of them across the field into the building. 

Her classes are mostly boring. She’d enjoyed creative writing in english class last year (even if she didn’t necessarily think she was the best at it) but right now they’re just reading an article about climate change, and then answering comprehension questions about the article, and the teacher doesn’t seem to appreciate her getting mad about climate change in her answers. They’re allowed to compare their answers to their peers’, but Ahsoka still sits alone at her desk. When she said she didn’t have much in the way of friends she meant it, but it wasn’t for her lack of trying. She’s always been friendly and enthusiastic, but she thinks instead she just come across as over-eager to most people.

Math is pretty much the same, if not even more boring. Mr. Mundi is a good teacher, and he does seem to have some kind of hidden sense of humour, but he’s also one of those kinds of boomers who won’t let anyone have any kind of electronic device in class. If he sees you with your phone out, even if you’re using the calculator, even if your work is done, even if it’s just sitting face down on your desk, he confiscates it. Ahsoka follows a school-specific meme account on instagram, and the account sometimes refers to Mr. Mundi as ‘Boomer Jacksfilms’, probably because of his enormous forehead accentuated by his severely retreating hairline.

They’re still on eighth grade math review, and Ahsoka has always been good at math, so this is almost laughably easy. She finishes and hands in the packet with twenty minutes to spare, and doodles on a sheet of scrap paper until the bell rings for lunch. Ahsoka packs up her things and takes her lunchbox from her bag, intending on sitting at her locker and eating her lunch alone-- again-- when she gets a DM notification over instagram.

D3thSt4rXX : hey where r u 

D3thSt4rXX : you should come have lunch with us 

D3thSt4rXX : come sit with us on wednesdays we wear pink lpl

D3thSt4rXX : *lol

D3thSt4rXX : we don’t actually wear pink on wednesdays we’re p much all dudes

D3thSt4rXX : not that dudes cant wear pink ofc

D3thSt4rXX : anyway. We’re in stairwell B

She smiles down at her phone, amused, and makes her way to stairwell B. 

Anakin is there with Rex, sitting on the middle landing under the windows, taking up most of the floor with two more Fetts-- except not Fives and Echo, this time. One of them has close cropped hair with crisp lightning bolts painstakingly shaved in, and he’s crouched over the other one, drawing something on his smooth head with a gray marker, tongue stuck out in concentration.

“Hey, kid,” Rex is the first one to spot her coming down the stairs towards them. “How are you doing?” 

“Pretty good,” Ahsoka sits down next to Anakin and opens her lunch. She pulls out the pack of lunch meat she’d taken from the fridge, a yogurt, and a long pack of saltines (she has to pack her own lunches in the morning, and that usually results in her just grabbing whatever from the kitchen).

“This is Jesse and Kix.” Rex gestures to the other two boys and they both wave, Kix with a kind smile and Jesse being careful not to move his head as Kix works. “What are your thoughts on Glee?”

Ahsoka blinks at the random question, and next to her, Anakin huffs. “Huh?” 

“What are your thoughts on Glee?” Rex repeats, firmer this time, and Anakin groans dramatically and slides down the wall.

“Um, I think it’s dumb,” she says. “And that teacher should be in jail.”

“Right! Thank you!” Rex cries, smacking Anakin in the chest, who yells. 

“It’s not dumb!” He says first, then backpedals. “Well, it is kind of dumb-- but it’s fun, okay! Besides, Padme likes it and I trust her judgement!” 

“Oh my god,” Rex buries his face in his hands. “I should have known you’re only defending it because Padme likes it, you loser. It’s literally so bad! It’s just awful!”

“There are some genuinely good and funny moments and they’ve tackled pretty much every single social issue-- I thought you were all into--”

“And hasn’t done a single one well! Remember ‘you’re all minorities, you’re in the glee club’? Glee is a joke ! Right, Ahsoka?” 

Jesse and Kix are pretty much ignoring the argument that has clearly been going on for some time. Ahsoka shrugs. “Well, I’ve never actually watched Glee, so…” 

“God I wish that were me,” Rex says without hesitation.

“Well-- well you like-- Jesse, Kix, what dumb thing does Rex like?” 

“Disney movies,” Kix says, while at the same time, Jesse says, “You.” 

Anakin sputters as all the rest of them laugh, trying to talk over them as well as the PA system crackling to life, that gets drowned out by the group’s hooting and hollering. “Hey, no, come on! Rex likes disney movies, let’s clown on him for that!”

“Oh I don’t like disney movies,” Rex says, still laughing, “I just have strong opinions about them.” 

“Then why do you know all the words to every song from Mulan?” Jesse points out like Rex has stumbled into some trap, while Anakin makes an AHA noise, but Rex isn’t caught tripping.

“Because Mulan is actually good and the songs slap, next question.” 

“I like Lilo and Stitch, but it doesn’t really have musical numbers,” Ahsoka pitches in, and Rex grins. 

“Yes, yes!” He goes in for a high five, which Ahsoka responds to with enthusiasm. “Polynesian representation and found family themes, let's go!” He turns to Anakin. “See, Tano has taste, you should get on her level.”

“Wait,” Kix speaks up before Anakin gets the chance to respond. “Your name is Tano?”

Ahsoka flushes when she realizes she forgot to actually introduce herself. “Yeah, Ahsoka Tano.” Kix winces.

“Shit, you got called to guidance a minute ago.”

“What?” Ahsoka startles, and Kix nods. “Shit!” She repeats and jumps to her feet. 

“Go, we’ll watch your stuff.” Anakin says, and she nods, taking the stairs up two at a time. She speed walks down the hall and all but bursts into guidance, only to see Mr. Plo standing in the doorway to his office, waiting for her. 

“Ah, little ‘Soka,” says the guidance counsellor when she enters. “I hope nothing important was interrupted.”

“Just lunch with my friends,” she says, and Mr. Plo smiles. 

“I’d love to hear about them. Come, sit in my office for a while. This shouldn’t take too long, but there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” 

A little perplexed, Ahsoka follows him into the office. He closes the door behind them and takes a seat at the table, gesturing for her to do the same. 

“What is it, Mr. Plo?” She asks as she sits down. Mr. Plo strokes his chin for a moment, considering his next words carefully. 

“I understand you’ve befriended Anakin Skywalker.” He says first. 

“Yeah, he seems pretty nice,” Ahsoka pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged on the chair. “And his friends are cool, and if you’re worried about him being a bad influence because of the whole punching people thing I--”

“I am aware of young Skywalker’s less than stellar coping mechanisms,” Mr. Plo gently interrupts her before she can ramble for too long. “That’s not what I’d like to talk about-- in fact, I think he will be a just fine influence. What I’d like to discuss is the fact that he has expressed concern over your current living situation.”

Ahsoka looks down, suddenly embarrassed. She knows exactly what he’s going to say next. 

“Why didn’t you tell me things aren’t well, Ahsoka?” Mr. Plo says, his voice unbearably gentle. 

“I don’t… I didn’t say anything because--” Ahsoka chews her lip, a bad habit she’s been trying to kick. “If I move again, then I might have to go to a different school, and… I want to be close to you.” 

A few seconds pass in silence, and Ahsoka keeps on looking down. Then, a warm, familiar hand on her shoulder. 

“Oh, Ahsoka,” Mr. Plo says, “Come here.” 

Ahsoka practically flings herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in the rough wool of his blazer. He returns the hug immediately, pulling her in close and patting the back of her head comfortingly just as he’s always done. “I’ll always be here for you, little ‘Soka, no matter what. You know that.” 

“Yeah,” Ahsoka mumbles, voice muffled by the fabric. “I don’t understand why I can’t just live with you.” 

“I know, I know. I wish things could be different, too. However, I believe we may have found something for you.” 

“What?” Ahsoka pulls away to sit back down in her chair. 

“It was actually Anakin’s idea. He spoke to Obi-wan about it, who spoke to me. Apparently he was very enthusiastic about it, as well. They’ve offered for you to take residence in their home with them, as opposed to where you are now.”

Ahsoka is at a loss for words. She can feel her jaw hanging open, her surprise certainly clear in her wide eyes. “You mean like…?” 

“No details have been determined. It’s your decision, of course. But I do think it would be a good place for you.” Mr. Plo says. “I have known Obi-Wan since he was your age, and I will vouch for his character any day. He is a kind and patient man who has lived something very similar to what you are now. I think you would be safe and, most importantly, happy there, with him and Skywalker. Not to mention their home is nearby. However, it is perfectly reasonable if you don’t want to, I understand this is quite sudden.” 

“Yeah, I… I don’t know…” Ahsoka trails off. She says nothing for a long moment, and eventually Mr. Plo speaks up again.

“Little ‘Soka, are you happy, where you are right now?” 

Ahsoka thinks about her current foster parents, that are never home, and the house that is always dark and quiet. She’s had to make herself dinner every night for the last week, and she doesn’t have much in the way of cooking skills. Even when they are home, her foster parents hardly speak, to her or each other. They’re like shadows, intangible.

“No,” She says. Mr. Plo nods in understanding, and puts a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder again.

“Think about what I’ve said. You don’t have to have an answer right away.” 

She nods, and Mr. Plo smiles. “Now,” he says, “How are things going? Are you enjoying your classes? Tell me everything.” 

Ahsoka returns the smile with ease. No one would ever believe her if she said what a terrible gossip Plo Koon is.

Chapter Text

When Ahsoka comes back to the stairwell a few minutes before the end of lunch, looking a little dazed, Anakin has to keep himself from bursting with excitement and curiosity. He’s almost certain he knows what Ahsoka was called to guidance for-- especially when Rex asks what they wanted and Ahsoka just says ‘Mr. Plo just wanted to talk about some stuff with me’-- but he’s been warned against accidentally pressuring her, so he keeps his mouth shut with some effort. It’s hard, though, especially when Ahsoka just looks thoughtful as Rex and Jesse start an arm wrestling match, hilariously failing as they don’t have any appropriate hard surfaces. She just munches absently on her saltines, mind elsewhere.

He wants to know so bad what exactly was said in that guidance office. But still, he restrains himself. Ahsoka probably just hasn't decided to agree yet, and he doesn’t want to scare her off. Then his mind jumps to what Obi-Wan said this morning. 

How do you know she would even want to move in with us?

I simply do not know if we can afford to support another person…

Nerves spark to life like pop rocks in his guts. Would Ahsoka even agree? And if she does, would they even be able to actually adopt her? Anakin tries to shake those uncomfortable thoughts away. No, that’s ridiculous, he insists to himself. Ahsoka will see that it’s a great idea, and they’ll be fine. Maybe Anakin will think more seriously about that part time job… 

Both he and Ahsoka almost don’t notice when the bell rings, and they startle, quickly packing up their lunches. The freshman waves bye to them and heads up the stairs to their next class, and Anakin, Rex, Kix, and Jesse go downstairs to shop. 

Truth be told, Anakin is genuinely a little afraid of Mr. Fett. Maybe it’s because the shop teacher is so good at yelling, as established-- but really, if he caught you doing dumb shit with any of the various dangerous equipment in the workshop you better hold on to your wig tight-- and it might also be because he has biceps the size of Anakin’s head. Also, between Rex and Obi-Wan, there is no telling what kind of dirt Mr. Fett might have on him.

But, while Mr. Fett puts the fear of God in Anakin, the younger Fetts regard the man with nothing other than a mix of respect, hero worship, and brotherly insolence. They live with the guy, so they must see him as more of a regular person than A Dude Who Could Probably Crush Anakin Like A Pop Can (the fact that Anakin is taller than him is irrelevant). He can understand that, but that doesn’t mean he gets it.

Then again, the Fetts all love Obi-Wan, whereas Anakin, who has to live with him, sees him for the weirdo dork he is. So maybe he does get it, a little. 

When they get to the workshop the doors must still be locked, because most of their class is loitering around in the hallway. Hardcase is there already, headphones on and just vibing. He takes them off when he notices their approach and smiles. There’s blue paint smeared haphazardly on his face that wasn't there this morning, and he wonders what on earth Hardcase was doing in GSA that lunch to have gotten paint on his face.

It occurs to Anakin that he should probably be more grateful to Rex, because if it weren’t for Rex’s family sticking close to him, then Anakin would have maybe like three friends total. 

“Hey guys!” Hardcase greets them. “Ready to dick around with the big spinny saw and chop some limbs off?” 

“Hey, I only have so many limbs to spare, you know,” Anakin jokes back just as Mr. Fett materializes behind them and says:

“Mess around with any of the equipment and you’re grounded.” 

Anakin does not jump, thank you very much, but he does hurry to make room for Mr. Fett to get through the crowd of students to unlock the door. His brothers and cousins greet him enthusiastically as he passes, and Hardcase trails after him. 

“Hey Cody, what’s for dinner tonight?” He asks as Cody takes his keys from the carabiner clipped to his belt loop. 

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask Ninety-Nine.” 

Hardcase spins on his heel to run off, but is brought to an abrupt, choking halt when Cody’s arm snaps out and grabs his little cousin by the back of his jacket, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t mean now, you brainless cannonball!” He snaps, and the other Fetts around them snicker. Anakin half-smiles at the exchange, but his thoughts are wandering again.

What if Ahsoka agrees but then it turns out they actually can’t afford to take care of her anyway? That would probably be the worst case scenario, because then they’d have let Ahsoka down-- he’d have let Ahsoka down, gotten her hopes up just to disappoint her and--

By the time they’re all filing into the room, Anakin is biting his nails. 

Rex slaps his hand away from his mouth.

He takes the bus home. 

Obi-Wan has more things to take care of after school, and Anakin doesn’t feel like driving (too nervous, too distracted) so he leaves good ol’ Artoo in the parking lot and takes the bus home. While not as short a trip as driving, it’s still not a long ride and Anakin gets home less than half an hour after the last bell rang. He’d considered trying to find Ahsoka after school, see if she’d made up her mind yet or not, but ultimately decided against it. Besides, there’s someone else he wants to see, right now.

Anakin shoves the condo door open and dumps his bag, doesn’t bother taking his shoes off even though he knows Obi-Wan will snipe him for that later, goes into his room and flops down on his bed. He grabs his phone and immediately opens facetime with rising eagerness, and calls Padmé. It rings for a moment-- it should be around 1pm in Palo Alto right now, and Anakin isn’t sure if Padmé is still in class right now or not, but he’s calling her anyway-- before she eventually picks up.

The call opens up and then all at once Anakin’s phone screen is filled by his beautiful girlfriend’s beautiful smiling face. She’s in her dorm, and her headphones are in. 

“Hey, Angel,” Anakin says with a dopey grin on his face. Padmé smiles and tucks a stray curl of hair behind her ear. 

“Ani,” Padmé says. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Me too,” Anakin rolls over onto his side. They talk every day, whether it’s over facetime or text or voice call, but it still feels like he hasn’t seen her in forever-- even though she’s only been gone a few weeks. “So much. How’s your day been so far?” 

“Pretty great! The weather today is wonderful, so sunny. If there’s one thing I definitely don’t miss about Jersey, it’s the chill.” Padmé grins. “Sabin and I are going to take a beach trip this weekend, since we’re both ahead on our reading.” 

Anakin frowns. “Who’s Sabin?” 

“Sabé,” Padmé says patiently. “Remember Sabé? She goes by Sabin now.” 

Ah, she, Anakin thinks, a little relieved, while on the screen, Padmé turns her head and calls to someone Anakin can’t see. “Sabin, come say hi to Anakin!” 

Padmé’s best friend and roommate comes over into Padmé’s phone camera’s range, and Anakin blinks. 

Last time he saw Sabé-- sorry, Sabin, she and Padmé were practically identical-- something that gave him many a headache when the girls first started hanging out. And, well, they kind of still are, except at some point since leaving for university Sabin shaved one half of her head and cut the other half of her hair short to just above her ear. She has more piercings now, too— no one is going to be mistaking her for Padmé and vice versa anytime soon.

Sabin leans in close enough for her voice to be picked up by the microphone of Padmé’s headphones and says, “Hi Anakin!” He waves, and moves out of sight once more. 

“So,” Padmé props her chin in her hand. “What’s new back home? How is everyone, Obi-Wan, Rex, that freshman you’ve taken under your wing?”

Anakin shrugs. “Pretty alright. Obi-Wan is the same as ever, though I think I spotted a gray hair the other day— I’m waiting for the perfect opportunity to tease him about it. Oh, and Rex is doing great, he’s team captain this year—“

“You told me that already.” Padmé smiles at him. 

“Ah, right.” 

“What about— oh what was the name, I don’t remember… has Rex made any leeway with ‘that cute cheerleader’ that he likes?” She asks with a glint in her eye. Padmé acts like she’s above it, but secretly, she’s almost as much of a ruthless matchmaker as Anakin is, which is really saying something. Anakin snorts. 

“No, they haven’t exchanged a single word between them since before the summer.” 

Padmé sighs. “You know, I never expected Rex to be so shy. Anyways, what about Ahsoka? Is she doing okay? Adjusting to high school well and all that?” 

“Oh, she’s, uh,” Anakin looks to the side, “she’s doing fine.” 

A moment of silence passes. “Ani, I can tell something is on your mind. What is it?” 

Anakin hesitates. “Uh, well, you know how I’ve been trying to convince Obi-Wan to adopt Ahsoka?”

“Yes,” 

“Well, uh, he said today that, um, we might not be able to actually, like, afford that.” 

He’s always felt awkward talking about anything to do with money with Padmé. Her family is rich, like, has been going to Disney world every year her whole life rich, like owning a summer home kind of rich, like have more bathrooms in their house than people sort of rich. It’s a lifestyle Anakin can never wrap his head around. Padmé has always been kind and sympathetic and has both never judged Anakin for the life he’s had and never flaunted her family’s wealth, it has always been weird to talk about knowing she doesn’t truly understand, and never will. 

And sometimes it’s just embarrassing. He knows it shouldn’t be, but sometimes he looks at her family’s huge house and their fancy cars and feels very lacking. 

“I’m sure Obi-Wan will work something out,” Padmé says. “She’ll be okay, one way or another. You all will.” 

“Thanks, Padmé.” Anakin smiles. He sighs. “I wish I could hug you right now.” 

“Aw, me too.” Padmé looks off to the side and smiles and waves, then turns back to her phone with a mischievous look. “Hey, is Obi-Wan home right now?” 

Anakin gives a confused frown. “He’s still at the school, why?” 

“Well, Sabin just left…” Padmé raises her eyebrows at him very pointedly. It takes a second for her meaning to register in Anakin’s brain, but when it does…

“Oh!” He jumps up, grinning, and goes to lock his door.

Back at the school…  

Obi-Wan looks up from his computer when there’s a knock on the partially open door to his classroom. He minimizes the windows he had open-- he’d been putting grades in, so, student's privacy and all that, and calls out to whoever was on the other side of the door. “Come in,” 

The door slowly swings open, and a girl steps into the room, looking… the only words Obi-Wan might come up with to describe her posture would be ‘cautiously optimistic’. He doesn’t recognize her, she’s definitely not one of his students. 

“Mr. Kenobi?” The girls says, and Obi-Wan realizes. 

“You must be Ahsoka Tano,” he says with his warmest smile. “What can I do for you, young one?” 

Ahsoka ventures further into the room. “I just, wanted to talk to you, I guess?” 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan stands and pulls a chair over to his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

She does, and Obi-Wan retakes his own seat. “What, in particular, did you want to discuss?” 

He’s pretty sure he knows, of course, but he thinks it best if Ahsoka says it in her own words. And besides, he knows the topic, but that doesn’t mean he can predict exactly what’s on her mind. Ahsoka wraps her arms around her backpack in her lap, and looks at the multitude of things on Obi-Wan’s desk. His mug with the bi pride flag on it filled with spare pencils and novelty pens, the multiple photo frames, a very resilient little cactus a student had once gifted him a few years ago after he made an offhand comment in class about being incapable of keeping plants alive. 

“Uh, I talked to Mr. Plo earlier, and he said that you said that…” She trails off, and looks back at him, with eyes so hopeful it almost hurts. “Would you really adopt me?” 

Obi-Wan strokes his beard, the slightest of frowns tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m afraid that an adoption may not be a possibility, at the moment.” He says slowly. “Between the costs and the time it would take. However,” He continues when Ahsoka visibly deflates. “I already have a foster license, and so could take you in much sooner in that capacity. And, if you’d like, an official adoption could be something we work towards in the future.”

Ahsoka bites at her lip, looking down. Obi-Wan leans forward a little, trying to give off a comforting vibe. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but it’s the best I can do right now.” He says, “I know what you’re going through, all too well. All my teenage years, I was fostered by a man whom I very much saw as a father figure. And though I did, and we kept in touch after I moved away for university, I still always wished to be properly adopted. So I understand your disappointment. But I do promise that I will do everything I can to provide you with the healthy and stable home you deserve. If that’s what you want, of course.” 

Ahsoka seems to think for a minute, before eventually saying, “Anakin said you were adopted brothers?” 

Ah. “Our relationship could probably be best described as brothers, yes. Qui-Gon-- the man I spoke of-- had planned to adopt Anakin, though in the end it was me that did, and I am his legal guardian. Anakin seems to be under the impression that I had been adopted by Qui-Gon, which I suppose isn’t such an outlandish conclusion to come to, given his knowledge.” 

“Oh.” Ahsoka smiles. “Okay, I’ve decided. I think I would like to live with you guys, even if it’s still as a foster kid.” 

“Wonderful.” Obi-Wan smiles back. It’s not ideal, but the state’s board rates should be plenty to cover the cost of having another mouth to feed, and this way, Ahsoka will be in a better environment far sooner than if they were to spring for adoption right away. He offers Ahsoka a hand to shake that she accepts with a smile. “We’ll start the preparations right away.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kenobi.” Ahsoka says so earnestly. “It’s, um, it’s nice to be wanted.” 

And, oh, if that isn’t a feeling Obi-Wan understands far too intimately. He pretends like he isn’t just completely melting inside and squeezes Ahsoka’s hand reassuringly. He understands why Anakin became so protective over her so quickly. “You can call me Obi-wan, dear.” 

Her smile stretches then into a broad, bright grin. “Okay, Obi-Wan.” 

As soon as Obi-Wan enters the condo his ears are assaulted by the sounds of Gerard Way’s melancholic caterwauling, coming from Anakin’s phone propped up on the kitchen counter. Anakin himself is standing, frozen, in front of the open fridge, staring at him, an open carton of orange juice halfway to his open mouth. Obi-Wan looks down. He’s still got his shoes on. 

Obi-Wan sighs. He doesn’t even have to say anything before the teen starts sheepishly toeing his shoes off. 

“I have good news, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says over the music as he puts his bag down on the bench and takes off his shoes. “We’re going to be fostering Ahsoka after all, provided all goes well.” 

“Yes!” Anakin punches the air. He tosses the juice back in the fridge and punches the air again, a huge grin on his face. “Yes! When is she moving in?”

“Not for another couple of weeks, at least. There will have to be arrangements made, an inspection of the condo done, standard background checks and etcetera.” Obi-Wan looks around at the messy apartment he and Anakin share, the dust and the clutter and general haphazard chaos. They’re certainly going to have to clean thoroughly. Oh yes, and if they’re going to turn the office into a bedroom, then, “We’ll need furniture— perhaps we can bring Ahsoka to ikea to pick some out, but we’d be on a tight budget and can’t guarantee it would be very good furniture…”

“Can we get dinner at ikea too?” Anakin interrupts him, practically vibrating, and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes but nods in assent all the same. The teenager whoops with excitement. 

“So what did Ahsoka say? Is she excited?” Anakin turns the volume on his phone down and hounds Obi-Wan with questions as he attempts to venture further into the space. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“Oh, yeah!” Anakin grabs his phone and immediately starts typing something. Obi-Wan uses the moment of respite to go to the fridge and take out the chicken breasts he’d defrosted. 

“Have you eaten yet?” Obi-Wan peers back at Anakin, who shakes his head. “Good, because I’m about to start making supper.”  

He shoves the clutter on the counter off to the side and sets the chicken down while Anakin continues typing away, leaning on the counter behind him.

“I think Ahsoka’s offline,” Anakin eventually says. 

“Well then don’t bombard her with messages, for heaven’s sake, have some patience.” 

“I’m just so excited! She’s gonna love it here, I just know it!” 

“I’m sure.” Obi-Wan takes the large glass baking pan out and starts getting down the ingredients he’ll need for the sauce. “If you need something to do, why don’t you get a head start on clearing out the office?”

“Nah.” Anakin, not wanting to be assigned any chores, makes a beeline for his room, and Obi-Wan huffs. 

“Fine, then. I’ll call you when supper is ready.” 

All he gets in response to that is a peace sign as Anakin shuts his door.

There’s no one else there when Ahsoka gets home, which is typical. There are butterflies in her gut the whole way back from the bus stop, a nervous happy sort. She’d figured out the implication in Obi-Wan’s words, that if he could adopt her, he would , and that’s-- that’s really nice. No one other than Mr. Plo had ever bothered to extend that hand of kindness before. 

She owes a lot to Anakin, too, she thinks as she unlocks the front door. When they’d met in detention she hadn’t thought at all that it would lead to friends and-- and family, maybe. 

She goes inside and shuts the front door behind her. She flicks the lights on-- the house hasn’t much in the way of windows, and the blinds are always down, so even in the daytime, it’s dark. She sets her bag down on the bare, polished kitchen counter and opens the fridge. 

The fridge might as well be completely empty, for all that nothing in there is actually of any use to her. They have milk, a few eggs. Some sad looking celery. Barbecue sauce. A jar of maraschino cherries. A couple more yogurts.

Ahsoka sighs and pours herself a glass of milk. Chances are she’s going to have to feed herself again tonight, but she has no idea what kind of meal she might make from what’s in there. She’ll probably just have buttered pasta again. Maybe this time, she won’t accidentally overcook the noodles. 

Wondering what Anakin is up to, she takes out her phone only to see easily over a dozen notifications from him, a lot of the messages in all caps and nearly all of them with multiple typos.

D3thSt4rXX: YUORE MOVIGN IN WITH US

D3thSt4rXX: YAAAYYYYYYYY

D3thSt4rXX: UR GONNA LOVE  IT HERE I SWEAR

D3thSt4rXX: THUSI S SP GREAT IVE ALWAYS WA

D3thSt4rXX: NTED A LITTLE SISTER SORRY HOT SEND TOO SOON

D3thSt4rXX:*hit 

D3thSt4rXX: just realized i makyeb should have asked you if you thought it was a good idea first before talking to obi wn about it sorry but like it Ll turned out alright anyway!

D3thSt4rXX:*maybe

D3thSt4rXX:*all 

D3thSt4rXX: ANYWYAS 

D3thSt4rXX: ISNT THIS SO COOL THO

D3thSt4rXX: WERE ALL GONNA GET FURNITURE FOR U AND STUFF AT IKEA SOOM AND WE RE GONA HAVE DINNER THERE TOO 

D3thSt4rXX: its gonna be a real treat i love ikea food but obi wan says we can only go on special occiasons 

D3thSt4rXX: *occasions 

D3thSt4rXX: !!!!!!! ITS A SPEIAL OCCASIOM

D3thSt4rXX: sorry im like. AAAAAAAAAHHHH im so excited!!

D3thSt4rXX: Are you excited?? I hope so!

D3thSt4rXX: obi wan is telling me to have patience so i’ll stop spamming u now lolll

Ahsoka laughs as she opens up the dm and types out a reply. 

spotted.soka: lmaooo 

spotted.soka: I’m excited too!

Immediately the message is marked as read and Anakin starts typing. Ahsoka looks up from her phone at the big but empty house around her, and feels a sense of hope flare up in her chest knowing she won’t be stuck here for much longer. She is excited.

And even if she does end up technically aging out of the system, she knows that she won’t be on her own when that happens.

She’s not alone.

Chapter Text

The staff room is, without a doubt in Obi-Wan’s mind, the nicest place in the whole of Coruscant North High. For one, there is air conditioning, a luxury not common in the old building, and the chairs are very nice to sit in, and the fridge is clean. So is, even more miraculously, the microwave, which Obi-Wan is grateful for because he’s seen the state of the shared microwaves in the cafeteria lobby. Ninety-Nine can only do so much to keep up with the constant spills and food explosions. 

Another reason Obi-Wan likes it so much is because it’s off limits to students. So not only can Anakin not pester him in here, but since he himself was once a student at this very establishment, there’s a wicked sense of satisfaction every time he enters ‘the forbidden place’. 

The microwave beeps and Obi-Wan takes out his chicken-and-rice leftovers, and goes and sits at one of the large round tables on the other end of the room to eat. Luminara is already sitting there with her own meal, and she smiles at him as he takes a seat. He smiles back, and she goes back to reading her book, so Obi-Wan pulls out his phone and scrolls through Facebook the only way one can— mindlessly.

After a few minutes of this, movement to his right catches his attention. Obi-Wan looks up to see Cody taking the seat next to him, in his hand some shawarma from the place down the street. “Hey Kenobi, Miss Unduli.” The man greets them. “How are things?”

“Things are going well, thank you,” Luminara responds first, because Obi-Wan has his mouth full. “And yourself?”

“Pretty good,” Cody says. “Kenobi, I heard your litter is expanding?” 

Obi-Wan hurries to swallow his food as Luminara gives him a curious look. “Word travels fast, I see.” 

“Rex was telling me about it.” 

“Ah, that makes sense.” Obi-Wan turns to Luminara. “Anakin has significantly bonded with a freshman currently in an unfavourable living situation, and so we’re going to be fostering her.”

“Congratulations.” Luminara says. “You know, the only surprising thing about any of this is that nothing like it’s happened sooner . You’ve always had such a soft spot for kids.” 

“Aha, well,” Obi-Wan half-laughs, a little bashful, because it is true. “Technically it’s not a guaranteed thing, as there will have to be at least one interview and our home will have to pass an inspection, but I’m rather well versed enough in the art of impressing social workers to be confident.”

“What’s your plan?” Cody asks, seeming genuinely interested. 

“Well first we’re going to have to clear out the office so we can actually turn it into a bedroom, and make sure the apartment is perfectly spotless.” Obi-Wan says. “I expect that will take about a week or so. Then, next saturday the three of us are going to ikea for furniture. Anakin is probably going to have to do most of the assembling, I’m afraid I haven’t much ability to speak of when it comes to that sort of thing.”

“Does anyone?” Luminara jokes, and Cody looks almost offended. 

“I don’t know, maybe the actual carpenter out of us would?” He says. “When I was a teenager I would actually go around getting people to pay me to assemble their ikea furniture for them. Had posters up around the neighbourhood and everything.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan raises a humorous eyebrow. “Is that still a service you might offer a poor, helpless academic like me?” 

Cody smirks at him. “Nah, I’d help you for free, if that’s what you’re asking.” He pauses, his expression morphing to one of deep thought. “Actually, I’ll do you one better-- I bet I could get you all the furniture you need, for free.”

Obi-Wan blinks. “Really?” ‘Shocked’ isn’t the right word to describe what he feels in response to that offer, more like ‘flabbergasted’. It’s just so… kind. (Not that Obi-Wan had believed that Cody isn’t kind, because he certainly is, but he is somehow never prepared when kindness like that is directed at him.)

“Of course. And it’ll be better than ikea furniture anyway, that stuff is so flammable.” 

“Is it?” Luminara asks, and Cody nods. 

“Yeah, something about the material they use makes most of it burn really quickly. A house full of ikea furniture can be entirely engulfed in flames in under thirty minutes, but a house full of real hardwood furniture can take hours to get to that point.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Obi-Wan says. 

“Yeah, one of my brothers is a firefighter, and he talks about it a lot.” 

“Which brother?” 

“Gregor. I don’t know if you’d have taught him, he graduated eight years ago.”

“I started teaching here eight years ago, but I don’t think he was in my class.”

“Gregor was in my class,” Luminara interjects. “But you, Obi-Wan, have been hogging every other Fett that’s come through here since.” 

“Anyway,” Cody says, looking intently at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan’s laugh dies in his throat under the man’s sudden intense gaze. “Just, make a list of the things you need, write down the dimensions of the room, and I’ll get all the furniture for you, totally free.” 

“Wow, thank you so much,” Obi-wan breathes. Truth be told, he had been sweating a little about the cost of buying so much furniture all at once-- he was going to have to dip substantially into his savings to do it. “I’ll email you those details this weekend, then.” 

Cody nods and takes a large bite out of his shawarma. Obi-Wan likewise goes back to his own meal, hyper conscious of Cody’s presence right next to him, and steadfastly ignores Luminara’s amused, knowing look.

keno.bi: Anakin, how do you make groupchats?

D3thSt4rXX: lmao how do you not know how youer a fuckign millenial 

keno.bi: Language. Also, hardly, I was born in the eighties you know 

D3thSt4rXX: haha old 

keno.bi: I can’t win with you. Anyways, how do you make groupchats? 

D3thSt4rXX: hold on 

keno.bi: ? 

[NEW GROUP] [spotted.soka, keno.bi, D3thSt4rXX]

[D3thSt4rXX named ‘NEW GROUP’ ‘chungus gang’]

D3thSt4rXX: this is wat you wanted roght? 

keno.bi: What on earth…? 

spotted.soka: CHUNGUS GANG

D3thSt4rXX: CHUNGUS GANG 

spotted.soka: 🙌😤

keno.bi: sigh

[keno.bi named ‘chungus gang’ ‘Chungus Gang’] 

keno.bi: At least make it have proper grammar. Anyways, I wanted to let you both know that Cody has offered to provide us with free furniture and so we will not have to buy any

D3thSt4rXX: KING 

spotted.soka: who is Cody?

D3thSt4rXX: Rex’s Big Brother ™ he is shop teacher here

spotted.soka: oh wow that’s rlly nice of him!

keno.bi: Yes, it is

D3thSt4rXX: can we still have diner at IKEA 

D3thSt4rXX: why did it autocorect to all caps

keno.bi: Yes, and we will need things from there other than just furniture anyways

spotted.soka: YAY!

D3thSt4rXX: YEEHAW

keno.bi: Why yeehaw?

D3thSt4rXX: all the cool kids r doing it thesw days

[D3thSt4rXX named ‘Chungus Gang’ ‘Cody Fett Fanclub’] 

keno.bi: …

[D3thSt4rXX named ‘Cody Fett Fanclub’ ‘Le Epic Cody Fett Fanclub’]

keno.bi: Why

spotted.soka: lmao iconic 

keno.bi: Well, class starts in a few minutes. You two had better not be late 

spotted.soka: ofc Obi Wan😇

D3thSt4rXX: maybe ill br late just to spite you :P

keno.bi: You’re impossible.

Obi-Wan sighs and puts his phone away in the drawer of his desk. The bell rings and he starts getting the projector set up for the lesson. Cody Fett fanclub, indeed . Obi-Wan thinks, fighting a blush. 

The next several days of Anakin and Obi-Wan’s lives are just completely consumed by obsessive cleaning. The office had never ever been even organized at any point in Obi-Wan’s memory-- probably hasn’t been in all the time since Qui-Gon first moved into the condo as a young man. Clearing it out, of course, is therefore the most arduous task Obi-Wan has ever taken on. There’s probably a whole forest’s worth of trees in all the paper they put in the recycling. Obi-Wan spends literally the entire weekend sorting through every file, folder, form and receipt and figuring out what needs to be kept and what can be discarded, and every fifteen minutes or so Anakin has to stomp around in the recycling bin to compact the sheer amount of paper in there. But 30-year-old gas station receipts are not the only thing excavated from the paperwork-filled dig site-- more memories than Obi-Wan had been prepared for are unearthed as well. 

They find so many old report cards-- Qui-Gon had fostered two other boys before Obi-Wan, one whom Obi-Wan never met, and it seems as though Qui-Gon never threw away a single piece of memorabilia in his entire life. (He’d contacted both of them, years ago when Qui-Gon died, but neither ever got back to him and neither came to the wake. He’d supposed that was fair.) There’s an entire drawer in the old desk dedicated to a young Obi-Wan’s academic footprint. Every report card, old tests that he’d gotten perfect scores on, awards and certificates, fencing medals, school photos… 

Anakin is unreasonably delighted by the school photos. From the second Obi-Wan uncovers his senior graduation photo and says “Oh look, this is me when I was your age,” Anakin points at the picture and laughs hysterically until he topples over into the stacks of documents, tears streaming down his face, and keeps laughing even as he suddenly bolts up and rushes to the bathroom.

Obi-Wan sighs as he puts the photo aside, still hearing Anakin’s muffled cackling from across the apartment. The unexpected revelation that Qui-Gon had kept all of this has his chest and throat constricting uncomfortably. He’d thought… 

All of Qui-Gon’s other things have already long been packed up in boxes, either in their allotted downstairs storage locker or stacked all over Obi-Wan’s room, because he didn’t know what to do with all of it. Just packing it all away, picking up the pieces after Qui-Gon’s death had been hard enough. The office was the only thing Obi-Wan hadn’t touched yet. And even now, with eight whole years between now and then, it’s still hard. He finds a picture from when Qui-Gon took him camping when he was thirteen, a little blurry because the man had turned the disposable camera around to take a photo of both of them. They’re sitting in a canoe in the middle of a lake, shoreline of pine trees just visible behind them, and Obi-Wan’s lifejacket is borderline too big on him. They both have such bright smiles on their faces. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes burn and he silently slides the picture into the folder of things to keep. 

It’s probably a good thing he waited so long to do this-- if he’d tried to tackle this when the wound was still fresh, he’s not sure he would have been able to hold it together.

That’s when Anakin comes back, crisis averted, and makes a beeline for Obi-Wan’s graduation photo again. He takes his phone out, still giggling, and takes a picture, certainly planning on sending it to literally every single person he knows. Anakin likes to make it his personal mission to make all of his classmates-- Obi-Wan’s students-- lose every shred of respect they might have ever had for him. Seriously, how can he possibly hope to be taken seriously when Anakin announces loudly to the entire class that the poems he’d assigned for reading are from Star Trek? How is he meant to retain any semblance of dignity?

“You look like a baby ,” Anakin wheezes, turning the large, still glossy despite its age photo around for Obi-Wan to see, as if that’s not literally him in the photo. “Your hair is so spiky! Why are you holding a bouquet !”

“All the girls had to hold a bouquet for their photo whether they wanted one or not, so I demanded a bouquet in solidarity. Besides, I was already being called a number of homophobic insults, I figured I might as well work a little harder to earn them.” 

“Wow, feminist king,” Anakin grins and looks at the picture again. “Why isn’t this framed? We need to frame this.”

“If you insist,” Obi-Wan sighs, and the shenanigans resume. 

When Obi-Wan isn’t cleaning, it’s because he’s at the school, and even then, he’s thinking about cleaning. Once the office was rendered completely empty, not even a speck of dust within those walls, he moved on to the rest of the condo, the radius of the circle of cleanliness expanding every day. He is not going to rest until every inch of that condo is spotless . Including Anakin’s room. Especially Anakin’s room. 

Cody is going to bring the furniture over on Saturday, along with some of his family to help move it. The weekend is approaching way too fast for Obi-Wan’s comfort. The only guests they’ve had in the last eight years have been Anakin’s friends, and even then he’d been instilled with a very specific kind of stress stemming from the fact that their living space, even at its cleanest, is, well, ugly. It’s horribly seventies and not a single thing in there matches, to a painful degree. 

Once, Anakin had sent him a link to a specific Chris Flemming bit on youtube with the message ‘ this is u when peopel come over’ and while he’d felt quite insulted at the time, it’s unfortunately a little bit true. 

Saturday morning comes all too soon. Anakin takes the car to go pick up Ahsoka, and when he gets back with Ahsoka in tow, Obi-Wan is vacuuming the living room for the third time today. 

“Wow,” Ahsoka says, looking around as Obi-Wan switches the vacuum off and reluctantly puts it away. “It’s nice in here!” 

It’s the first time in over a month the kitchen has actually been completely clean. Obi-Wan smiles. “Thank you, dear,” he says. “Would you like to take a look around before everyone arrives?” 

“Sure,” Ahsoka says. Anakin jumps to attention.

“I’ll give you the tour! So right now we’re standing in the kitchen,” He points to the closed door next to them. “That’s a coat closet. Over there is a bathroom, and then there’s my room,” he points to the last doorway along the rightmost living room wall. “That’s the living room, and over there is your room, and there’s Obi-Wan’s room.” He points to the door on the leftmost wall. “And there’s another bathroom attached to his room also. And that’s pretty much it!” 

Anakin grins, and Obi-Wan resists the urge to facepalm. “Anakin, that’s hardly a tour-- ”

But then the buzzer goes off, and Anakin rushes to answer. “Hello!”

“Hey, we’re here!” Rex’s voice responds through the speaker, and immediately Anakin dashes out the door to go greet them downstairs.

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan share a look, and Obi-Wan pulls on his shoes and makes sure to grab his keys before they follow him down. 

When they get there, Anakin is standing on the other side of the inner door, flanked on either side by Rex and Jesse, peering balefully through the glass. 

“I forgot my keys,” He shouts through the glass. Obi-Wan sighs and opens the door, making sure to leave it propped open for efficiency’s sake. He goes outside, looking for Cody, and stops dead in his tracks the second his feet hit the brick. 

Parked in the visitor’s parking are not one, not two, but three large vehicles (two vans and a pickup truck), all spilling Fetts like marbles squeezed out of a mesh bag. Obi-Wan gapes, thinking that maybe he should have made more than one jug of lemonade. Cody comes round from the driver's side of the nearest van and approaches Obi-Wan, a sheepish look on his face.

“Sorry about the crowd,” He says, “I was just going to bring a few brothers to help lift everything, but, well, there were a lot of volunteers… and there were some people who wanted to see you, anyway.” 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan says, just as a familiar voice calls out to him. 

“Mr. Kenobi!” Coming towards him are two young men with huge grins on their faces that Obi-Wan hasn’t seen since they graduated almost six years ago, now, but the sight of them is such a wonderful surprise that Obi-Wan can’t help but smile just as brightly. 

“Waxer, Boil-- oof !” He nearly gets toppled over when the twins tackle him from either side in a hug. Cody’d stepped smoothly out of the way, and now watches his little brothers squeeze the life out of their old teacher with an indulgent smile. Obi-Wan wheezes a laugh and reaches up to pat them both on their backs. “Goodness, you’ve grown.”

They pull away, and the first thing Obi-Wan notices, with some alarm, is Waxer’s soul patch, and Boil’s moustache, respectively. But he doesn’t say anything. 

“Mr. Kenobi, it’s been so long!” Waxer says. 

“Your mullet is gone!” Boil exclaims loudly-- and maybe Anakin’s attempts to shred him of his dignity aren’t a one man show.

“So much has happened, I need to--” Waxer twists from side to side, looking all around. “Hold on-- where--” 

They’re interrupted by a tug on Obi-Wan’s pants. He looks down to see, standing at his hip, a young girl with olive skin and two perfectly even black braids hanging down her back, tied with neat little teal blue ribbons. He kneels down to her eye level and smiles. “Hello there,” he says. 

“When I asked uncle Boil who Jesus is he showed me a picture of you.” The little girl says, and Obi-Wan looks up at Boil with a raised eyebrow. Boil half-laughs and rubs the back of his neck. 

“That’s, uh, I didn’t do that,” He says. “Kids just say the darndest things you know--” Waxer elbows him in the side. 

“He did. Mr. Kenobi, this is my daughter, Numa. Numa, this is Mr. Kenobi, he was our teacher when we were in high school.” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Numa.” Obi-Wan says with a smile. “Maybe one day, I’ll be your teacher, too.”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Numa smiles at him, then turns to look up at Waxer. “Baba, up please!” 

“You’re getting way too big for this,” Waxer says even as he picks her up and settles her in the crook of his elbow with little effort. Then he turns back to Obi-Wan. “I hope it’s okay that we brought her. I just really wanted you to meet her.”

“It’s more than alright, Waxer. I’m so glad that the two of you are doing well, I’m very proud of you both.” Obi-Wan stands back up (his knees crack conspicuously as he does, but he acts like nothing happened). Both Boil and Waxer start to look a little choked up at that, and knowing that neither of them probably want to get so emotional out here, he changes the subject. Looking over their shoulders at the small crowd of Fetts, he says, “I see Numa isn’t the only little one who’s tagged along, anyway.”

Out of the back door of Ninety-Nine’s van clamber two other small children that Obi-Wan actually recognizes, from the pictures that Ninety-Nine has shown him. Hevy and Cutup-- if Obi-Wan remembers correctly-- immediately take off like rockets, running around on the asphalt like little headless chickens. They dash in circles around Ninety-Nine while their dad fiddles with something in the backseat. That something turns out to be a toddler who, released from his booster seat, starts trying to follow his older brothers on his short little legs to the best of his ability. 

Also gathered are more of Anakin’s friends, who are mostly congregated in a small group-- he spots Kix, Hardcase, Fives and Echo, along with Rex, Jesse, Anakin and Ahsoka. By the extended pickup is a man Obi-Wan doesn't recognize, already working at undoing the strong cords keeping the tarp pulled over the furniture piled in the bed of the truck strapped down. That’s Gregor, Obi-Wan learns when he’s introduced to him, the firefighter. And apparently also the pride of the Fett family-- “Uncle Gregor is like a real life superhero,” Numa says at one point to him, to which her little cousins agree with enthusiasm. 

In fact, these children seem to be made of enthusiasm. The adults-- and larger teens-- start unloading the furniture and Numa, Hevy, Cutup and little ‘Bait run in circles around their legs. 

“I wanna help!” Hevy proclaims with determination at one point. Ninety-Nine chuckles and bends down to pat his son on the head. 

“You’re a little small to carry furniture, Hevy,” He says.  

“I wanna help!” Hevy repeats and stomps defiantly. Behind them, Cody reaches into the passenger seat of his car and Obi-Wan hears the rummaging sounds of tools being shifted around. 

“Here,” Cody comes over with a hammer in his hand and offers it to the child. “You can bring this up, just don’t smash anything with it, please.” 

Hevy accepts the hammer with reverence, looking like his birthday came early, and a sparkle in his eye that all but says ‘no promises’. He runs off, certainly to do something mischievous, and Cody pulls the rest of his clunky toolkit from the passenger seat, puts it on the ground, and reaches to unbuckle the bedside table that was strapped to the seat. Ninety-Nine, whose back problems make it difficult for him to lift heavy objects, also walks off to fulfill his volunteered purpose-- adult supervision. 

Cody turns, bedside table tucked under his arm like an abnormally large and rectangular football, and Obi-Wan hurries to rip his gaze away from the man’s backside and towards the ground. His eye lands on the toolbox Cody brought.

“The bed isn’t fully assembled yet,” Cody explains as he bends down to pick up the toolbox with his free hand. Obi-Wan takes the bedside table from him to lighten the load, holding it with both hands— it’s heavy, real wood, good quality. “I figured it would be easier to get it through the doors in pieces and then finish it in the actual room. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up any sawdust.”

Obi-Wan blinks, this new information rolling around in his head like a lost beach ball in a wave pool. “Wait, you… built the bed yourself?” 

Cody looks at him like that would be obvious. “Yes? I built the bed, that bedside table, and the bookcase. Which is why those three pieces match. The dresser is a hand-me-down, though. Hope that’s alright.” 

Obi-Wan looks down at the table in his arms, with the small drawer taped closed and the detailing on the sides, then back up at Cody. “You… built all that yourself… in a week?” 

Unexpectedly, Cody actually flushes slightly at that, and looks to the side with a slightly sheepish smile. “I… don’t have a lot of hobbies.” 

Obi-Wan laughs, then stops suddenly, something Cody said catching up to him. “Bookcase?” He says, adjusting his grip on the table. “We… didn’t ask for a bookcase.” 

“Yeah, uh,” Cody seems uncertain what to say. The flush returns full force. Obi-Wan privately thinks it’s adorable. “I know, and I’m positive it will fit in the room if that’s your concern, I just thought it would be a, uh, a nice surprise or something.” 

“It’s a wonderful surprise,” Obi-Wan says completely earnestly. “I’m sure Ahsoka will love it.” 

The labour carries on, and together everyone gets the furniture unloaded and ready to go by the front door. While this is happening, though, Obi-Wan’s mind is getting away from him as he wonders what could possibly be Cody’s motivation for doing all this. Actually building multiple pieces of furniture from scratch, on such short notice, for free — Obi-Wan had been grateful to accept the gift when it was offered, but Cody has gone so above and beyond he certainly deserves to be compensated somehow. Obi-Wan glances over at him, watching as he directs his brothers around the furniture with practised and efficient ease. 

Maybe our friendship is more solid than I thought , Obi-Wan thinks. Cody didn’t need to build free furniture for Obi-Wan’s family— just like how he didn’t need to drive Obi-Wan home when he was exhausted after a long day, and how he didn’t need to bring him tea that day he’d forgotten his at home. He can’t think of any reason why Cody may have done any of those things, except if Cody truly thinks of them as good friends. 

Guilt creeps up on him all of a sudden, and his stomach twists. Here Cody is, doing things out of the goodness of his heart for someone who he considers a friend, while Obi-Wan has just been sitting on his… his infatuation with the man and done nothing to actually earn any of that kindness. He hardly even knows anything about Cody. 

That’s going to have to change. He’s going to have to just shove his feelings down and be the friend that Cody deserves. 

Obi-Wan wrestles his focus back onto the task at hand. He adjusts his grip on the bedside table again and brings it over into the elevator, along with Waxer and Boil who hold the dresser between them. Numa hops along next to them, and when the elevator door closes, she grabs one of the legs of the bedside table, pushing up just slightly. 

“I’m helping!” She beams, and Obi-Wan finds himself forgetting all about his inner turmoil of just minutes ago. 

“Thank you very much, Numa. I appreciate it.” He says, and means it, even if he doesn’t necessarily mean her ‘help’ with the bedside table. 

It takes a minute, but after several elevator trips and a few very stubborn trips up the stairs, they get all the furniture and furniture pieces in the condo. 

The place is crowded with so many people in it, and the furniture, which mostly stays out in the main room for now. The bed, which is in three pieces, is brought into the room first, so that Cody will have space to put it together. He brings in his toolkit and immediately starts setting up, and, with the heavy lifting pretty much done, everyone else starts milling about. 

Sounds of construction make themselves heard from the once-office-turning-bedroom, and as conversation picks up between the clusters of people in the living room (and some laughter as they notice Obi-Wan’s high school graduation photo that Anakin tacked to the wall), Obi-Wan opens the freezer. He has to shove some things out of the way due to how he’d strategically placed it, but soon enough he is pulling out the box of jumbo freezies he’d bought the other day and setting it down on the counter. 

Every head in the room snaps to him, and he blinks and suddenly all four small children are huddled around his legs, looking up at him wide eyed and intense. 

“Would anyone like a freezie?”

As if he even has to ask. Four tiny hands shoot up in the air along with a chorus of ‘me’s and ‘yes please’s, and Obi-Wan laughs as he opens up the box. “Everyone can have one, come pick a flavour.” 

Then he’s surrounded by not just the children, but the teens and adults too, as they swoop in like vultures, some even vaulting over the couch to get to the frozen treats as soon as possible, all gathered around with shining eyes and practically vibrating with anticipation. 

“How come I didn’t know we had these?” Anakin demands as the little kids pick their freezies first. 

“Because I didn’t tell you when I bought them,” Obi-Wan says simply, grabbing the kitchen scissors and helping the little ones open their freezies. (Hevy And Cutup both take red ones, Numa a purple one, and ‘Bait gets a pink one after such a polite little “ pink, peas ” that Obi-Wan’s heart actually melts). 

He stands off to the side and lets everyone else get their own, keeping a watchful eye out for anyone trying to sneak a second so he can make sure there’s enough for everyone. Anakin and Rex both take blue ones, and Ahsoka takes a white one. Kix goes for purple, while Jesse goes for red and Hardcase gets blue as well. Echo takes a white one and Fives takes purple. Waxer and Boil choose red and pink respectively, Gregor takes a blue one, and Ninety Nine happily accepts a white freezie when he's offered the box. 

The box is already severely depleted when Obi-Wan picks it back up and looks around, realizing that Cody is still working on the bed. He grabs the scissors and picks his way through the crowd with the box, making his way towards what is going to be Ahsoka’s room. Inside, Cody is kneeling on the ground, changing the bit on his electric screwdriver while half- gripping half- propping up the headboard of the bed frame with his thighs. 

Obi-Wan diverts a great deal of energy towards not noticing Cody’s thighs as he approaches him. Cody looks up at him as he gets closer, and offers one of those wonderful half smiles of his. 

“Hey, Kenobi, mind holding this in place for me?” 

“Sure,” Obi-Wan sets the box of freezies aside and kneels next to Cody, grabbing the headboard and holding it so it’s aligned the same way Cody’d had it placed. Cody starts attaching the piece to the main part of the frame, propped up on his knee. The man is silent and focused on his work, and Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to observe. 

He examines the bed frame that Cody has made. It’s a standard twin size bed, an appropriate size for a young teen but also large enough that so long as Ahsoka doesn’t grow to be over six feet tall then it won’t have to be replaced for some time. The wood itself is light, and meticulously sanded and polished to give it a finished, professional look. And, Obi-Wan muses, it honestly is a professional piece of work, this is the thing that Cody has made himself a living with, after all. 

The windows in their apartment are all east-facing, so they get the best sun in the morning. 

Right now, the bright warm rays of a sunlight that only shines in the time between summer and autumn are streaming in through the window, landing on Cody’s concentrating face. The din of his electric screwdriver and the chattering coming from the other room fade to background noise as Obi-Wan finds himself caught almost in a trance. Particles of dust float through the sunbeams and Cody’s skin lights up bronze-gold, drawing attention to the ever-so mysterious scar curled around his eye. It all gives him an air of almost etheriality, and Obi-Wan scolds himself even as he thinks it. He’d told himself he was going to stop this, he has to stop this. 

But even still, Obi-Wan is glad to discover that the more time he actually spends around Cody, the less and less he’s accosted by that anxious buzzing kind of attraction, the kind that twists his stomach up and numbs his senses. And the more that that feeling is instead replaced by the gentle, soothing feeling of peace and, just, rightness , that he’d first felt when Cody drove him home those weeks ago. 

Perhaps it will be easier than he feared to be just friends. 

The headboard is done and they’re about to do the same with the footboard when Ninety-Nine appears in the doorway. 

“Hey, kids, need a hand?” He says, and Cody smiles over his shoulder at his uncle. 

“Sure,” he waves Ninety-Nine in. “Kenobi, you mind Ninety-Nine taking over holding the panel in place while you lift the bottom part?”

They rearrange themselves so Ninety-Nine is holding the footboard still and Obi-Wan is keeping the bottom part level. Cody starts attaching it, and Ninety-Nine turns to Obi-Wan. 

“I feel like I should warn you that the young ones are scheming out there,” he says. “Something to do with Ikea?” 

Obi-Wan groans. 

They get the bed put together and pushed into the corner underneath the window, and Obi-Wan grabs the box of freezies again. He offers it up to Cody just as the man is brushing off sawdust. 

“Here, would you like one?” He says. “I’m sorry there isn’t much of a variety of flavours left.”

A majority of the remaining freezies are the orange kind, but, to Obi-Wan’s surprise, orange is the flavour Cody reaches for. “S’alright,” he says as he takes the scissors and snips off the tip of the plastic wrapper. “Orange is my favourite flavour anyway.” 

“I have to say,” Obi-Wan smirks as he himself reaches for his own preferred blue, the last one in the box. “I think you’re the first person I’ve met who actually prefers orange.”

“Our Cody here has always been a strange one,” Ninety-Nine reaches up to pat Cody on the shoulder with a teasing smile. Cody shoots him an offended look. 

“Uncle!” He protests, and Obi-Wan laughs. 

“Are we ready to bring in the rest of the furniture?” He says, taking a bite from the freezie in his hand. Cody’s eyes seem to flick downwards for a split second, but then they’re making eye contact again so quickly that Obi-Wan thinks he must have imagined it.

“Erm, yes,” Cody says and retreats back to the main room. “Alright men, let’s get moving!” He barks to his brothers, and groans are heard from the kitchen and living room. Obi-Wan goes to follow but is stopped when Ninety-Nine puts a hand on his arm. 

“I just wanted to say, I’m glad you and Cody are getting closer.” The man says. He’s smiling, but Obi-Wan can see in his eyes that he’s serious about what he’s saying. “That boy’s always been a bit of a loner. So it’s good he has someone like you in his life.” 

That’s surely more praise than he deserves, but Obi-Wan has long learned not to question the wisdom Ninety-Nine graces you with. “Thank you,” he smiles. “I’m glad we’re getting closer as well.” 

Ninety-Nine’s lopsided grin widens. He limps out of the room, and Obi-Wan follows. Outside, it seems Rex and Jesse have been assigned the task of moving the dresser, and Cody is reminding them to lift with their knees, not their backs, (“You don’t want to end up like me, do you?” Ninety-Nine interjects), and to not even think about just pushing it, because “So help me if any of you scrape up Mr. Kenobi’s floors then they’ll never find your body.” 

It’s an effective threat. They lift with their knees. 

Obi-Wan is just putting the freezies away when he’s approached by Waxer, who looks a little awkward. 

“Yes, what can I help you with, Waxer?”

Waxer shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Well, it’s almost noon, you see,” he says. “And I’m going to need a quiet spot to, uh, pray.” 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says. “Yes, of course. I’ll make sure there’s a space cleared in my room for you.”

“Thanks,” Waxer gives a relieved smile. In the background, Anakin and Hardcase are teaming up to try and, as far as Obi-Wan can guess, tickle Rex and Jesse while they move the dresser. He sighs and decides that someone else can deal with them.

“If you don’t mind me asking, when did you convert to Islam?” 

“Islam,” Waxer corrects his pronunciation, “Soft ‘s’.” 

“Islam,” Obi-Wan repeats, and Waxer nods. 

“When I adopted Numa,” he answers his question. “I’d wanted to make sure I could preserve her culture as much as possible--  of course you know how important that is to me and my family-- so I started studying Islam a lot and immersing myself in the community here, and after a while I figured I might as well convert.” He says, “Honestly one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I’m a lot more level-headed, now.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Obi-Wan smiles. “I know I said this before, but I am very proud of you, Waxer. You and Boil have grown into very fine, respectable men.”

“Thanks,” Waxer says, a little misty eyed. “You really inspired us both a lot.”

Obi-Wan looks over at where Boil is helping Gregor move the bookcase. The inspiration was mutual-- Waxer and Boil had been among the first students he ever taught, and the two years he had them in his class were two of the best years of his teaching career. 

“Yes, I remember after your graduation ceremony, the two of you hugged me so tight I could have sworn I cracked a rib. It seems some things never change.” He says, and Waxer laughs. “I’ll get that space ready for you.” 

“Thanks again, Mr. Kenobi. Uh, for everything.” Waxer says, and Obi-Wan gives a fond smile.

“Really, Waxer, I haven’t been your teacher in ages, now. You can call me Obi-Wan.” 

Waxer’s entire face lights up. “Okay, Obi-Wan!” He turns in the direction of the once-office to shout, “Hey, Boil!”

“What!” The twin’s yelled response comes from inside the room. 

“We’re on a first name basis with Mr. Kenobi now!”

“Oh fuck yeah!” They hear Boil cheer, then a thunk and an Ow! and multiple small children let out their best scandalized gasps. 

“Uncle Boil, that’s a bad word!” Numa comes running into the kitchen and latches onto Waxer’s leg. “Baba, Uncle Boil said a bad word! The same one as when he burns his hand on the coffee machine!”

“Yeah, I know, I heard.” Waxer grouses.

“If Uncle Boil can say bad words then why can’t I say bad words?” Cutup cries to his dad. Ninety-Nine looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“You’re not old enough to say bad words,” He says. Hevy whines.

“No fair! That was the best bad word!”

“Actually, the best bad word is--” Fives begins, but is promptly cut off when both Echo and Kix slap their hands over his mouth. Anakin, Ahsoka, Hardcase and Jesse aren’t even trying to resist cracking up, while Rex makes a slightly more valiant effort. Cody looks so, so tired.

After that distraction, the rest of the furniture is moved and placed properly in Ahsoka’s room. The bed that has yet to be adorned with a mattress is in the corner furthest from the door, underneath the window, next to it the bedside table, and next to that the desk that was in here before. They’ll need to get a chair-- the office had been inexplicably chairless for years. The dresser is pushed against the wall opposite the foot of the bed, and in between those two pieces of furniture is the bookcase. The bookcase, like the bed and the bedside table, is made of a sandy pale wood, and is a little taller than Ahsoka. Like Obi-Wan had predicted, she’s thrilled with it. 

She’s thrilled with all of it. The room is still fairly empty-- Obi-Wan has their ikea shopping list ready-- but when they’re done she stands in the doorway and takes it in with shining eyes. Obi-Wan stands off to the side and lets her have the moment. 

After a minute she turns and walks up to Cody. “Thank you,” she says. Cody smiles at her.

“No problem, kid.” 

“Can we go to ikea now?” Ahsoka turns to Obi-Wan with a way too innocent smile on her face. Obi-Wan looks around the room to see, as Ninety-Nine had warned him, every single person under the age of 20 looking at him with gleefully devilish expressions. 

“Yes, it is time to go to ikea,” he says, cautiously. 

Anakin starts to speak, “Can—“ 

“Yes, the Fetts can come,” Obi-Wan sighs, “so long as the adult chaperones are alright with it.” 

Gregor shrugs— he has to work later— Ninety-Nine and Cody, the other two adults with vehicles, both nod and the kids all cheer. 

Cody sends Obi-Wan an exasperated look, though it’s clear he’s not actually mad, and Obi-Wan gives a resigned smile in return. They both already know it’s going to be pure chaos.

“Alright, then, let’s go.” 

Chapter Text

It’s not a long car ride, made shorter by the excited chatter of Rex’s friends. Mr. Kenobi parks their family car in the parking garage right near the entrance, and Rex climbs out of the backseat with Ahsoka while Anakin hops out of the passenger seat and starts twisting excitedly. The two vans that had followed them also park nearby, and they’re soon enough joined by the rest of Rex’s family. 

“Rex, do you love ikea as much as we do?” Anakin asks him, and next to him, Mr. Kenobi mutters ‘who’s we?’ 

Rex gives him a flat look. “I don’t really hold any fondness for brands and corporations in general.” He deadpans. When Anakin just blinks at him, he sighs, and says, “I do like the swedish meatballs, though.” 

Anakin cheers, and he and Ahsoka high five. Rex’s brothers and cousins cluster around them in their usual group while the adults start talking, with the little kids gathered around their legs. 

“Haha you said balls,” Jesse snickers, which earns him an elbow in the ribs from Kix. 

“The swedish meatballs do be hitting different than regular meatballs though,” Ahsoka says, and smiles at Rex when he sighs.

Rex likes Ahsoka. She’s a sweet kid with lots of tenacity, which is something that Rex respects in a person. That being said, her and Anakin are one hundred percent cut from the same cloth, and if he ends up having to babysit them both when their shenanigans inevitably result in trouble and chaos, then he’ll… well, he’s not sure what he would do. Probably just snark at them for a couple of minutes before going back to supporting them all through the shenanigans and being the Responsible One of the group, because Rex is a good and loyal friend . Where would they even be without him?

Probably in jail , he thinks wryly as Anakin nearly trips over his untied shoelace and the others laugh at his expense.

“Alright,” Mr. Kenobi claps his hands to get all their attention, and for a second Rex feels like he’s on a field trip. “Lunch first, then we’ll drop the little ones off in the kid’s area and get our shopping done. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah!” They all cheer, and the whole crowd of them move as one large, rippling mass into the ikea.

“Race you up!” Ahsoka laughs and takes off like a rocket up the steps towards the main level. Laughter and shouts break out among the group as Anakin races after her, quickly followed by Fives and Hardcase. Rex, Jesse, Kix and Echo break into a jog, not as desperate for competition as the others. Behind them, Cody barks at them to not run on the stairs, but to Waxer and Boil’s audible amusement, he’s pretty much ignored. 

The four sprinters have already reached the top anyway, and Rex arrives in the middle of their argument over who won. 

“It’s not my fault you took so long!” 

“Well you have the longest legs that’s an unfair advantage—“

“I think it should be known that Fives tried to trip me and he’s a dirty criminal—“

“I didn’t, you tripped on the step! I’m being framed!” 

“I won fair and square!” 

Rex casually sticks his hands in his pockets and walks past them. “Do you guys wanna get lunch or not? Hurry up.” 

“Oh, shit!” The group takes off again, leaving the exasperated adults in the dust. Rex laughs, but feels bad for goading them on when Hardcase actually does eat shit on the escalator to the top floor. (He doesn’t stop laughing though). It’s okay, though, because Hardcase is laughing as hard as everyone else, even when Cody gives him the scolding of a lifetime. 

“What did I tell you about running!” He chews Hardcase out as the teen rubs his bruised jaw. “You’re lucky they’re not kicking us out right now!” 

“Don’t be like Hardcase, kids,” Anakin says to the younglings. Mr. Kenobi cuffs him across the back of the head, and he laughs. 

“You were running too, you rapscallion!” He turns to point at Ahsoka. “And you, young lady! I don’t want my first act as your legal guardian to be grounding you! And you —“ Mr. Kenobi rounds on Fives, then stops suddenly. “Wait, you’re not my kid.” 

“Sad,” Fives deadpans. 

“Someone scold this rowdy teen, please.”

Uncle Ninety-Nine steps forward and puts a hand on Fives’ shoulder. “Please try to be more responsible in the future, Fives.” He says. Fives nods, looking thoroughly ashamed even though uncle Ninety-Nine’s chastising was very gentle. 

The group then makes its way, at a perfectly reasonable indoor pace, to the ikea restaurant. It’s a Saturday afternoon, so it’s already busy even without the added crowd of their party. The lot of them shuffle into the food line and start loading up trays with food. The line moves slowly, but eventually they all get through to the cash. Uncle Ninety-Nine sends his kids ahead to scout out somewhere for all of them to sit, and Mr. Kenobi asks Anakin and Ahsoka to get cutlery for everyone. Rex realizes this was a tactical maneuver to get Anakin and his stupid matchmaking ass out of earshot when, as soon as they’re far enough away, Mr. Kenobi turns to Cody and insists on paying for his (and his brothers’) lunch. 

Cody, of course, immediately resists. “What? No, I couldn’t possibly make you--”

“No one makes me do anything, my dear,” Mr. Kenobi smiles. “I’m offering. Anyways, it’s the least I could do.”

His brother’s mouth snaps shut and Mr. Kenobi goes ahead and pays for their lunch with a self-satisfied smile. Rex resists the urge to smack his older brother for pining so damn loudly. 

Yeah. Rex is the only one who knows. (Although, now that he thinks about it, uncle Ninety-Nine probably does, too.) Not the fact that Cody is gay, that’s not a secret. No, the fact that he has a big stupid crush on Mr. Kenobi. A huge crush. Rex gets second hand embarrassment just from being aware of it. 

Hevy and Cutup come running back to lead the party to a long bunch of the tables with the tall stools for seats, completely cleared by some miracle. Everyone’s meals get passed around and they sit, with the adults at one end, next to them the little kids, and then the teens congregate at the other end. 

“Ahsoka,” Echo says once they’re all settled in with their food, “you’re coming to the next game, right?”

“Football game, right?” Ahsoka says as she pries open her carton of chocolate milk. “I’ve never been to a high school football game before.”

“You have to come!” Fives says. “It’ll be fun!” 

Anakin pokes her arm with a straw. “You actually do have to come, Snips. Because I’m gonna drag you along, and I’ve never missed a game,” he brags. 

Rex smirks. “Honestly, I don’t know why you haven’t joined the cheer squad yet, Skywalker.” Anakin laughs him off. 

“Yeah, I’ve told you a million times, not happening.” 

“But you’d make such a great cheerleader.” Jesse mock pouts. “Especially in one of those teeny skirts.” 

Ahsoka snorts, and Anakin shakes his head. “Are you kidding me? My ass would be hanging all the way out of one of those things.” 

“That’s why it would be so great,” Hardcase waggles his eyebrows. Down the table, Cody clears his throat. 

“We can hear your whole conversation, you know,” he says pointedly. “There are kids here.” 

“Yeah, there are kids here,” Numa sticks her tongue out at them, even though what they were saying went completely over her head. Her mouth is full of mashed potatoes. It’s effective. 

“Ah, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Waxer scolds and wipes her face with a napkin. 

Rex turns his attention back to their group. Ahsoka retaliates Anakin’s straw-poke by blowing the wrapper of her straw directly into his ear. 

“I’ll go to the game if Skyguy wears the skirt.” 

“No, the skirt will just be an added bonus, you have to come to the game anyway.” Rex laughs as Anakin grumbles. “You’re part of the group now, you gotta come to our games.” 

“Okay but just so we’re on the same page I am not wearing a cheerleader skirt.” Anakin says. “Where would we even get one?” 

Jesse snickers and nudges Rex with his elbow. “I bet if Rex just asked nicely then—“ 

Rex pushes him back. “Yeah, not happening. I’m not asking any of the girls if we can borrow their skirt.” He rolls his eyes so hard he nearly looks at his own brain— a move he picked up from Wolffe and uses liberally.

“Okay but literally all the cheerleaders are like actually in love with you.” Fives says, then turns to Ahsoka. “I didn’t believe it at first but at the last game there was literally this one who—“ 

“Shut up,” Rex hisses, and reaches around Jesse to punch his little brother on the shoulder. If he’s blushing, then that’s his business and no one else’s. “Shut up!” 

“What happened?” Ahsoka asks, with a way-too-innocent-to-be-real look on her face. Rex’s family around him all suppress laughter at his expense, and he glares at all of them. 

“I swear if any of you say anything I will actually kill you—“

“After the game, one of the cheerleaders blew a kiss to Rex and he panicked and squirted himself in the face with his Gatorade bottle.” It’s Kix that actually ends up betraying him, because Kix doesn’t give a fuck. Rex gapes at him while the whole group laughs, and he can feel his face getting redder. 

“It was just because it was the one cheerleader Rex really likes,” Anakin smirks. 

Rex throws a meatball at him. He catches it in his mouth. 

“Anyways,” Echo says. “Ahsoka, you totally need to start coming to their games. You can sit with Kix and me— and Skywalker, of course— we always get the best spots on the bleachers.” 

“Wait,” Ahsoka says. “You two aren’t on the team? I thought you all were.” 

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” Kix shrugs. “I honestly don’t have time for football, I’m in all AP classes and my workload is only going to get heavier as the year goes on. I’m aiming for a full ride to med school. And Echo’s not allowed to play anymore.” 

“Oh, why’s that?”

“I have fragile brain disease,” Echo says nonchalantly. 

Fives is the only one who laughs. 

“What?” Ahsoka blinks. 

“Too many concussions,” Echo taps the side of his head. “If I get another one I’ll probably die or something.” Again, Fives is the only one who laughs. 

“I think we should circle back to that cheerleader Skywalker concept,” Hardcase drawls. Anakin visibly almost spits his coke out all over the table. 

“For the last time!” He coughs. “I’m not joining the cheer squad and I’m not wearing the skirt!” 

“There are guys on the squad, you know, it’s not just girls.” Kix informs him. 

“Yeah, cute guys.” Jesse says. “Although, maybe that’s a reason why you shouldn’t join.”

Rex laughs. “Ruthless.”

“I don’t even know any of the cheers,” Anakin insists. “I know— I can do, like, the cup song and that’s it. Is that what you want? Me on the field in a skirt doing the cup song?” 

“The what?” Ahsoka says, and all eyes on their side of the table snap to her. 

“The… the cup song.” Anakin fumbles over his words. “You don’t know the cup song?” 

Slowly, Ahsoka shakes her head. There is zero recognition on her face. Jesse puts his face in his hands. 

“I can’t believe this,” Hardcase says. “This is just like when Boba didn’t know what I was talking about when I mentioned Lady Gaga’s meat dress.” 

“No, this—“ Anakin says. “This is unacceptable. Hold on, I gotta—“ He grabs his glass and starts chugging until it’s empty, then dumps the ice out on his plate. 

He shoves plates and trays out of the way and puts the cup face down on the table. Then grabs it and starts thumping out a rhythm on the table with the glass, with clapping and turning the cup over. Ahsoka looks more confused than she’s ever been in her life. Next to him, Rex’s family starts cheering. “Go white boy go!” 

Down the table, Rex hears Mr. Kenobi sigh. “So help me god if Anakin breaks that glass…” 

Anakin plays the beat out one more time before he starts singing. “I got my ticket for the long way round… two bottles of whiskey for the way,”

Unfortunately for all of them, Anakin has always been a little tone deaf. (Unfortunately for all of them, that has never stopped him from ‘singing’ along to pierce the veil at top volume when it comes on in the car.)

“And I sure would like some sweet company so I’m leaving tomorrow whadya say? When I’m gone, when I’m gone, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone…” He falters. “Uh, shit what’s the next part— oh, right— you’re gonna miss me by my hair you’re gonna miss me everywhere oh, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.” 

And then the whole ikea clapped. 

No, that doesn’t really happen. But Kix starts clapping, so the rest of them start clapping, until their whole little group is clapping. 

“Bravo!” Fives grins. Anakin blinks. 

“There’s still another verse—“

“I’m good, thanks.” Ahsoka cuts him off before he can start singing again. 

“Yeah. Here’s to Anakin not joining the cheer squad-- a bullet dodged for all of us.” Rex raises his own glass in a toast, and the rest of their half of the table responds with raised glasses and milk cartons of their own. “Cheers, everyone.”

“Hey!” Anakin gives him an offended look, and Rex snickers. That was payback for Anakin pointing out his cheerleader crush-- a crush that he doesn’t have , by the way, it’s all in Anakin's head.

Yep. Totally made up. Nearly very seriously staining his jersey with gatorade yesterday was totally coincidental. 

(By the way, white jersey and blue gatorade? Bad combo. Pain in the ass to clean.)

Pretty soon after that everyone finishes their food and they clear the table. Uncle Ninety-Nine, Waxer, and Boil bring the kids down to the kid’s area, and the rest of them set off into the ikea proper. Jesse, Kix and Hardcase run up ahead to look at something. Fives and Echo flank Ahsoka, pointing out any and every remotely interesting thing they see. Mr. Kenobi, who has the list of essentials on his phone, sticks close behind them, and Cody sticks close to Mr. Kenobi. 

Rex would be sticking close to Cody, if Anakin hadn’t grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back so the two of them are farther behind the rest of the group. 

“Okay so like,” Anakin leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s fucking wild how your brother is totally in love with my brother, right?” 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Oh no. 

Rex scoffs, trying as hard as he can to deny it, because if Anakin gets on another matchmaking spree… Rex shudders just to think about it. “No he’s not,” he says. 

It’s obviously not very convincing. “He totally is! Do you really think he would build an entire bedroom set in a week, with a day job, for Obi-Wan— technically it’s for Ahsoka, but we all know Cody did it for Obi-Wan— if he wasn’t trying to hit that?”

That’s— fuck, Rex really can’t argue with that. Cody had stayed up late as hell nearly every night for the last week working on all that furniture. Once, he even fell asleep in his workshop. Uncle Ninety-Nine found him in there while he was rounding everyone up for breakfast. But still, he holds out. Changes the subject. “Gross,” he scrunches his nose up for effect. “Don’t talk about either of our brothers hitting anything, please and thank you.” 

Anakin rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’m just pointing it out because Obi-Wan is also into your brother.” 

That actually gets Rex to stop in place. “Wait, seriously?” No offense to Cody but he did not expect that. 

“Well—“ Anakin falters and makes that face that betrays the fact that his last statement was purely wishful thinking. “Well he's his type, at least.” 

Rex raises a dubious eyebrow at him and keeps walking before the rest of the group notices they’re lagging. “Really.” 

“Well —“ Anakin falters again, and Rex sighs. “Well he bought a copy of the magazine where Dwayne The Rock Johnson was named sexiest man alive so therefore he has a thing for Dwayne the Rock Johnson, and, Cody has big muscles, too!” His best friend is looking at him like he’s unravelling the secrets of the universe. Rex shushes him when he starts talking too loud. 

“Yeah, no, that’s a bit of a reach. No offence, Skywalker, but I’m not letting you drag me into another one of your matchmaking schemes, and if I have to kill you to do it then that’s a sacrifice I’m prepared to make.” 

“No, really! Just look at them!” Anakin insists, gesturing. Rex does not look. 

“No. Seriously, I think you should mind your own business on this one.” Rex puts his foot down. “If you interfere with my big brother’s love life I will actually be mad.” 

Anakin deflates. “Fine… I’m still right though.” He pouts, then puts on a smile and runs to catch up with the others. “Hey Snips! You know what you should get? Fairy lights!”

Jogging up to the rest of the group, Rex watches as the kid turns to Mr. Kenobi  with an eager, hopeful gleam in her eye. Mr. Kenobi hesitates, looking again at the list on his phone.

“Well, lighting is our top priority… and I suppose string lights could serve the same purpose as a lamp well enough.” 

“Yes!” Anakin and Ahsoka do a high five/jump combo move. Rex grins and comes up between them, and throws an arm around each of their shoulders.

It’s a little awkward, because Anakin is taller than him, and Ahsoka is so much shorter, but that’s fine. Anakin laughs and latches right on, using the link to swing the three of them in a circle in the middle of the path, nearly bowling over Fives and Echo on their way around. 

Behind them-- Rex notices when he chances a glance over their shoulders-- Cody and Mr. Kenobi share a smile, and he wonders for a moment if maybe Anakin’s theories might hold some truth, after all. 

When they finally catch up with Kix and Hardcase and Jesse, waiting for them among the kitchen sets, Kix has, in his arms, the biggest stuffed shark Rex has ever seen.

“Holy crap,” Fives bursts out laughing as soon as he spots them, “why do you have that?”

Kix hugs the shark tighter. “This is the magical shark of wisdom, and she will bring me happiness and prosperity throughout the rest of my life,” he says, with a completely straight face. 

“Her name is Gertrude!” Jesse cuts in enthusiastically. Kix shakes his head. 

“No it is not.” 

“Bentley.” 

“No.” 

“Bruce.” Hardcase contributes. 

“No.”

“But that’s the name of the great white shark from finding nemo!”

“Her name hasn’t been revealed to me yet.” Kix says with finality. Anakin looks into the shark’s empty gaze and laughs. 

“Dude, that thing is huge .” 

It is huge. It’s like the size of a small child. Cody eyes the shark dubiously. “I hope you don’t expect me to buy that for you.” 

That seems to genuinely offend Kix. “No, I’m going to buy it myself! Twenty dollars for a magical shark of wisdom, that’s the steal of a lifetime!”

Jesse and Hardcase both start to giggle, and Rex eyes the three of them. “Genuine question, are you guys high right now?” 

Kix shakes his head. Jesse snorts. 

“As if I’d answer that honestly in front of both my neurotic older cousin and my teacher,” laughs Hardcase. 

Rex gives a gravelly sigh and rubs his temples like an old man, a sigh that Cody matches, but the aforementioned ‘neurotic older cousin’ doesn’t say anything, and neither does Mr. Kenobi. They’re just in time, though, because they’re almost through the display floors, and Cody had called uncle Ninety-Nine just a minute ago to let him know to start coaxing the kids out of the play area. A while ago they’d picked up a cart and since filled it with pillows, a duvet, sheets, a trash can, a desk lamp, some blue dragonfly string lights, a wall clock and an alarm clock, a small fuzzy rug, and a little piece of paper with the name of the mattress Ahsoka has picked out written on it so they can pick one up in the warehouse. Kix holds steadfastedly onto the (magical) shark (of wisdom) all the way down to the warehouse level with a faraway look on his face. He’s probably already stressing about exams , Rex thinks. They pass through the area with all the plants, and Ahsoka ends up picking up no less than two small cactuses, and a succulent. 

“I can never tell if these things are real or not,” Hardcase feels the leaves of the plants they pass by. 

“No, they’re real.” Cody informs him. Hardcase doesn’t look convinced, and keeps rubbing the leaves of the large plant next to him. Jesse joins him in his leaf rubbing with a spaced out look. Cody sighs and pulls them both along by their arms. Mr Kenobi looks like he’s trying not to laugh. 

Rex has been Anakin’s best friend since the very start of high school, and it has never really gotten any less weird for him to know Mr. Kenobi outside of school. He doesn’t know how to label the relationship he has with an adult authority figure who grades his history tests and teaches him about literature analysis but also makes him and Anakin pancakes in the morning when they have a sleepover. Should he think of him more as a teacher, or as Anakin’s (admittedly sometimes dorky) older brother/father? He really can’t decide.

And, look, Anakin may insist until his dying breath that Mr. Kenobi is not his dad, but… maybe he just doesn’t know, because Rex knows Anakin never had a father, but a lot of the time, Rex thinks Mr. Kenobi acts more like a dad than a brother. That might just be because Rex has not only a dad, but uncles who are also dads, and brothers, in abundance. And brothers who are also dads. So he’s a bit of a dad-brother connoisseur. 

Speaking of which… 

Somehow, uncle Ninety-Nine, Waxer and Boil, and the kids are already there and waiting for them when they get to the checkout. 

“Wait, how did you get here before us?” Fives says. He hops over to uncle Ninety-Nine’s side and lifts Cutup up onto his shoulders when the small child demands it. 

“You got me— by all accounts, it doesn’t make any sense.” Waxer says, gesturing to the kids hanging off their legs. His Patrick Warburton impression is scarily good. He and Boil blind high-five. 

They get through checkout quickly and without grand incidence. Then, while everyone is loading everything into the back of Mr. Kenobi’s car, Rex watches Anakin and Ahsoka interacting, laughing and goofing off together. Speaking again of brothers...

He waits until someone else catches Ahsoka’s attention, then quietly pulls Anakin aside. 

“Hey, listen,” Rex says, keeping his voice low. Anakin gives him a curious look, and he keeps talking. “I don’t know if it’s fully sunk in for you yet, but you’re basically about to become a big brother, you know?” 

Judging by the way Anakin’s face slackens, it hadn’t occurred to him yet. He suddenly looks very, very nervous. 

“Look,” Rex puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re gonna do fine, okay? Honestly, you’re going to be a great big brother. But, I do need you to know that if you ever do wrong by Tano I’m gonna come after your sorry ass, got it?” 

Anakin just laughs a little bit. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m…” he looks over his shoulder. “I’m really excited, actually. I’ve always wanted to be a big brother.”

Rex smiles. “I know you are. Now come one, let’s get back before they start to think we’re making out over here.” 

“Gross,” Anakin laughs, but quickly backpedals when Rex gives him a teasing raised eyebrow. “I mean, uh, not that I think two dudes making out is gross, obviously, because it’s not it’s totally cool and fine, just that there’s nothing wrong with being gay but I’m not gay and I wouldn’t want to make out with you specifically and—“ 

“Skyguy, what the hell are you talking about?” Ahsoka pops up between them, and Anakin jumps. 

“Skywalker is scrambling to prove that he’s not homophobic because he said he doesn’t want to kiss me.” 

“Whoa, Skywalker,” Jesse jokes, “you mean you don’t kiss your homie on the lips? Just a little bit, as a treat? Wow, are you guys even friends?” 

Anakin looks like he desperately wants a pillow to scream into. “I said make out! Kissing and making out is different!”

“So you do want to kiss Rex.” Fives ah-ha’s . 

“No! I have a girlfriend!” 

Rex raises his hand. “I think it should also be taken into consideration that I don’t want to kiss Skywalker, either.” 

“Thank you— wait, what? Why not?” Anakin does a double take and gives him a kicked puppy expression. Rex lets out the most longsuffering sigh he ever has in his whole life. 

Luckily for all of them, Mr. Kenobi chooses that moment to step in, saving them from further embarrassment. “Alright everyone,” he says, “it’s time to go home now, so say your goodbyes.” 

Rex’s brothers and cousins all bid farewell to Anakin and Ahsoka and then pile into either Cody’s or uncle Ninety-Nine’s van. Rex gives Ahsoka a friendly fist bump, and nods to Anakin. “I’ll see you guys Monday morning, yeah?” 

“See you then, Rex!” Ahsoka grins, and Anakin finger guns. Then Rex squeezes himself into the backseat of Cody’s van and they take off. 

On the highway, he watches the sun crawl towards the horizon through the back window over his brother’s head. It’s warm, and the chatter of his family fades to background noise as he leans back against the headrest. He’s tired. He doesn’t usually like to sleep in the car, but…

This is going to be our year , Rex thinks with a small smile, then lets his eyes slip shut, drifting off into a half-sleep. 

By the time they get back to Anakin and Obi-Wan’s place, the late afternoon sun is already on the other side of the building, and the condo cast in shadow seems to have a blue film over it. Obi-Wan turns on the light, and Anakin puts the large blue bag filled with pretty much all Ahsoka’s stuff down on the bench by the door. Movement on the floor of the kitchen grabs Ahsoka’s attention, and she looks up and smiles. “Aw, a puppy!” 

Waiting for them is a large golden lab, thumping his tail on the floor and whining anxiously. He comes over and nudges Anakin’s hand with his nose, and Anakin answers by scratching behind the dog’s ears. 

“Hey, Threepio,” the older teen smiles. “Miss us?” 

“Can I pet him?” Ahsoka asks. Obi-Wan nods. 

“Yes, but be gentle— Threepio is a very nervous dog and he’s getting on in years.” 

“No he’s not,” Anakin kneels down to look the dog in the eye, holding either side of his face. “You’re still young and spry, aren’t you boy?” Obi-Wan lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a snort as Ahsoka nudges Anakin out of the way so Threepio can sniff her hand. 

“Spry? Anakin, he’s arthritic.” 

Ahsoka gives Threepio pats, and Anakin scratches around his collar. The dog looks quite pleased with the attention. “Don’t listen to him,” Anakin coos. “Obi-Wan’s just being a meanie.” 

“I’m being factual .” Obi-Wan sighs. “Anyways, Anakin, will you please take Threepio out while Ashoka and I bring up the mattress? He’s overdue for his walk.” 

“Sure!” Anakin grabs the leash off the wall and clips it to Threepio’s collar. Then the four of them (three humans and a dog) go back to the elevator. 

Poor Threepio hates the elevator, but stairs are too much of a challenge for him. He practically vibrates the whole way down to the ground floor, and Ahsoka tries not to laugh at the poor dog’s expense. There’s real relief in his eyes when the elevator doors ding open and Anakin guides him out to the front door. Obi-Wan presses another button and the doors close, and they continue down to the underground parking. The mattress Ahsoka picked isn’t very heavy— fairly thin and made of foam, because she likes a firm mattress— so Ahsoka and Obi-Wan are able to grab it from the trunk and carry it between them with relative ease. 

Ahsoka is quiet all the while that they unroll the mattress and set it on the bed frame that Mr. Cody built. She’s self aware enough to know that that’s rare for her, and she knows that Obi-Wan has come to learn this as well. He shoots her both concerned and curious glances. It’s been an active day, and certainly much has happened to talk about, but now that the buzzing of all the people has gone, Ahsoka is left with a strange, gnawing feeling. 

She sits on the edge of the bare mattress and looks around the room, still silent. A moment passes, and then Obi-Wan sits next to her. 

“I can tell there is something on your mind,” he ventures. Ahsoka shrugs out of habit, even though he’s right and she knows he is. 

“I’m…” she hesitates. She doesn’t want to speak it into existence. “I’m nervous. I’m scared that, that you won’t be able to foster me after all and we did all this— that I’ll have gotten my hopes up for nothing.” She pulls her feet up onto the edge of the frame and tucks her chin into her knees. “Mr. Plo tried to get custody of me for years and it never worked. I’m scared I’ll never have a real home… this still all feels like a dream, to be honest.” 

Next to her, Obi-Wan sighs. “I know exactly how you feel,” he says. “I was in your shoes, once. I wish I could promise you things will work out how we plan, but I know it will be empty because there’s only so much we can control, and you know that. But I can promise you this, Ahsoka: I will do everything I can for you to ensure you are where you need to be. And that you have the tools you need to thrive. And I hope that you may come to think of this as home, no matter what happens.”

Ahsoka smiles at him. Her eyes prickle with unshed tears, and she wishes they wouldn’t. “Thanks, Obi-Wan.” 

“Of course, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan gives a smile of his own, and quirks an eyebrow. “And you know, I am quite confident it will all work out. I wouldn’t do all this if I didn’t think so.”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka scrubs at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. “Uh, can I have a hug?”

Obi-Wan’s smile turns soft. “Of course.” He opens his arms and Ahsoka leans in, wrapping her arms tight around Obi-Wan’s middle and squeezing tight. She feels him stiffen for a split second, before breathing out and settling his arms lightly around her shoulders. 

His sweater is really soft.

Just then the front door opens, and the sounds of Anakin and Threepio jingling together into the   apartment reach them. They hear the rattling of Anakin filling up Threepio’s food bowl, and then he appears in the doorway of the room. “Oh, a group hug? Nice.” The teen lopes over and practically throws himself onto the bed on Ahsoka’s other side, and wraps his arms around the both of them. 

Ahsoka oofs as she’s caught in between them, and so does Obi-Wan, but he laughs and reaches around to give Anakin a pat on the back anyway. “Yes, thank you, Anakin. You can let us go, now.” 

He does, and Ahsoka looks around the room again with a much lighter heart-- and calmer stomach. The whole place is bright, and warm, and as Anakin and Obi-Wan continue to banter over her head, she feels perfectly content.

She knows she really would be happy here. She really hopes Obi-Wan is able to foster her. And then maybe one day adoption will be on the table, like he said. Ahsoka smiles. 

Later, when Anakin drives her back ‘home’ again, the windows are dark, and the house is empty. 

Chapter Text

[Cody Fett Fanclub] 

keno.bi: Inspection passed, interview passed, paperwork ready to be signed. We’re all clear. 

D3thSt4rXX: YEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

spotted.soka: YAY!!!! 

D3thSt4rXX: ✨👏🥳🎊🎊🎉🎉🎊🎉🎉🎉🥳🥳🎉✨

keno.bi: We’ll be ready to move you in anytime this week 

spotted.soka: How about tomorrow? :3 

keno.bi: Haha yes tomorrow works fine. Do you have luggage? 

spotted.soka: yeah Mr Plo got me some a few years ago 

keno.bi: Very good. Oh, and be sure to tell Plo the good news, I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear 

spotted.soka: Ok!!!

D3thSt4rXX: 👆👌🙈💅🥰🥳😵🥵🤡🧠👻🤖👠🐢

keno.bi: Just when I think I’m starting to understand emojis… what does that even mean 

D3thSt4rXX: idk lmfao I’m jsut EXCITED

keno.bi: I’m sighing. I want you to know that I am sighing at my phone right now. I’m going to go gray because of you 

D3thSt4rXX: lololol 🙈

spotted.soka: lmaooo

keno.bi: Although, for the record, I am also excited 

spotted.soka: aww 🥰🥺☺️ me too!!

D3thSt4rXX: haha obi wam u nerd you have feelings 

keno.bi: I can never win with you. 

The bottoms of Ahsoka’s shoes have long been worn smooth and they slap loudly on the vinyl composite floors of the school halls as she scampers down to the guidance office. The hallways are crowded, lunch has just started, and she weaves through the crowd on nimble feet in her rush to deliver the good news. 

She bursts into the office and sees that the door to Mr. Plo’s office is closed. She pauses in the doorway, then hops over to the desk. 

“Is Mr. Plo seeing someone right now?”

Slowly, the staff member behind the desk raises his head to look at her. He smiles. “Yes. Are you waiting for an appointment with him?” 

Ahsoka taps rapidly on the surface of the desk and tries not to bounce on the balls of her feet. “No, she says, “I just wanted to talk to him.”

“You seem to be in quite a rush,” he says, adjusting his thin rectangular glasses. “Is it urgent?”

“No,” Ahsoka repeats. “Just really good news. I’m going to be fostered by a really good family, and I’m really excited about it.”

“Oh, that is good news.” The elderly gentleman smiles. “Congratulations.” 

Behind her, Ahsoka hears a door opening. She turns to see another student walk out of guidance, and Mr. Plo standing in the doorway of his office.

“Good afternoon, Ahsoka,” the guidance counsellor says. “What brings you in here today?” 

Ahsoka bounds across the office to throw her arms around Mr. Plo’s middle, and he’s quick to return the enthusiastic hug. “Anakin and Obi-Wan are all good to foster me!” She says with a huge grin. “I’m moving in tomorrow!”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Mr. Plo pulls away and puts his hands on her shoulders, smiling brightly. (Mr. Plo’s face is like 90% obscured by his beard and glasses, and most people can have a hard time discerning his facial expressions despite his ever present air of warmth and good will, but Ahsoka can always tell.) “This is going to be a very positive new chapter in your life, I can already tell.” 

“I think so too.” Ahsoka says, then her grin fades a little, and she looks down. “But… even though I’m happy about this, I still wish I could live with you instead. Is… that wrong?”

“Of course not.” Mr. Plo reassures her. “I wish for that, too. It’s not wrong to have feelings, little ‘Soka, even conflicting ones.”

“Thanks, Mr. Plo.”The smile returns to Ahsoka’s face.

Just then, movement out of the corner of her eye catches her attention, and Ahsoka turns to see Anakin amble into guidance on his freakishly long legs. “What’s up gamers,” he announces his presence. “There you are, Snips! We’re going to get pizza, you coming?”

“Ah, young Skywalker,” Mr. Plo says before Ahsoka says anything to reply. “How are your early applications coming along?” 

“Really good, thanks.” Anakin pushes his bangs back from his forehead. He’s weirdly sweaty, for some reason. Ahsoka doesn’t want to know why. “I just have a few more to submit and then I’ll be done.” He looks back to Ahsoka. “Well?”

“Coming!” Ahsoka looks back up at Mr. Plo (seriously, why is literally everyone so much taller than she is???). “I’ll see you around, Mr. Plo,” she says. She adjusts her backpack and starts to follow Anakin out. 

“Have a good day, little ‘Soka.” Mr. Plo waves, and so does the elderly staff member behind the desk. 

“Congratulations again, young lady.” He smiles. Ahsoka waves goodbye as she and her newly-crowned foster brother step out the door.

Ahsoka really, really likes her dragonfly lights. After moving in (which really didn’t take that long, since all of Ahsoka’s worldly possessions fit into her backpack, a duffel bag and a single small suitcase) they got the rest of her things from ikea set up. She put her plants on one of the shelves of the bookcase, since she doesn’t really have any books-- Obi-Wan had tutted at that, and she suspects she won’t be without reading material for much longer (considering that, when she had glanced into Obi-Wan’s room, practically every wall was lined with bookshelves and overflowing with books, as much as there were cardboard boxes stacked inexplicably in every corner). They also got some command hooks, so the dragonfly lights are strung along the wall above the (her) bed and around the windowframe. There’s no switch, so they turn on and off when she plugs or unplugs them into the powerbar that sticks out from under her bed.

They’re plugged in right now, and Ahsoka lies back on her pillow, looking up at the string of white-blue lights above her. She really likes them. 

It’s not just the lights by themselves, though they are pretty. It’s like, the dragonfly lights are a metaphor for something else, something bigger. Ahsoka’s not good enough with metaphors to put the exact feeling into words, but she doesn’t need to articulate it for the meaning to be there.

Anakin is in his own room. Ahsoka can hear his music playing from behind two separate closed doors. Not loud enough to make out the words, but personally she thinks the dude who’s singing’s voice is kind of whiny and annoying. 

That’s the only ambient noise in the condo, until another noise starts up on the other side of her door, and, curious, Ahsoka gets up to go see what it is.

Anakin is still shut away in his own room, but Obi-Wan is moving around in the kitchen. He’s turned the stove light on and the fan, which was part of the new noises she was hearing. It’s pretty loud. His phone is out on the counter, and playing faintly from it is what Ahsoka assumes is some kind of podcast. 

Does no one in this house know what headphones are?

“Ah, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan says without even looking, while waist-deep in one of the lower cupboards, and Ahsoka has no fucking clue how he does that. “It’s perogie night, how do you like your bacon? Crispy or squishy?”

There’s a banging and crashing noise from within the corner cupboard, and Obi-Wan hisses a curse Ahsoka politely pretends she didn’t hear. Then he emerges, a pot in hand.

“Squishy,” Ahsoka says. “Like, as squishy as it can be while still being safe to eat.”

Obi-Wan sighs as he starts to fill the pot with water and puts it down in the corner of the stove. “Oh, this is going to be interesting to time properly,” he says, “Anakin likes his bacon so crispy it’s practically burnt .” 

“Gross.”

“I once served him bacon that was black around the edges and he complained it was undercooked.” 

“That’s so cursed,” Ahsoka laughs. She heaves herself up to sit on the edge of the counter and watches Obi-Wan continue to prepare dinner. He maneuvers around her to get the perogies out of the freezer, and bacon and cheddar cheese from the fridge, and yellow onions from the cupboard on the other side of her. He hands the block of orange cheddar and a cheese grater to her. 

“Ahsoka, will you be a dear and grate this cheese for me?” 

“Sure, how much?”

“As much as your heart desires.” Obi-wan has already turned and started to peel the onions, and so Ahsoka resolves to grate as much cheese as can possibly fit in the container. 

After a few minutes of this, and just soaking in the various background noises, getting absorbed in the monotonous movements of grating cheese, Ahsoka hears the sink turn on again, a new noise. She looks up to see Obi-Wan rinsing off the peeled halves of the onions under the tap. 

“Why are you doing that?” 

“Oh, when the onions are cold it’s easier to cut them without getting all teary eyed.” Obi-Wan explains. “You can store them in the fridge, but we don’t have room for that, so running them under cold water works just fine.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Ahsoka goes back to grating the cheese.

“It’s not terribly common knowledge,” Obi-Wan likewise goes back to slicing the onions into strips. “More of a, what’s it called, a life hack. I only know to do it because I took a few cooking classes back in Uni.”

“Cooking classes? Aren’t you an english teacher? Why?”

The aforementioned english teacher gives a smile over his shoulder. “Why do you think? To impress a girl, of course.” 

Just then the door to Anakin’s room slams open and his blaring music fills the rest of the apartment with the persistent sound of frantic electric guitar. “Are we unlocking Obi-Wan backstory!?” He shouts. Ahsoka snickers when Obi-Wan sighs dramatically. 

“Yes.”

“Well, did it work?” Ahsoka leans forward where she sits, and Obi-Wan pauses. She and Anakin await the answer with baited breath. Then,

“Yes.” 

The two teens cheer, and Obi-Wan shakes his head, but Ahsoka can see a smile on his face anyway. “We were already dating at the time,” Obi-wan goes on to say, and Anakin absorbs every word with great reverence. Ahsoka guesses Obi-Wan must not talk about his life story very often. “But I took the classes in preparation for her birthday, because I wanted to make her favourite meal. She came from a rich family who had had professional chefs in their employ, and so her favourite meal was something fancy and complicated that required a higher level of skill than I already had.” 

Anakin looks like he wants to start singing ‘tell me more’, but then the pot starts to boil and Obi-Wan makes himself busy with dinner again, effectively dodging any more prying questions.

The time ticks by. Ahsoka grates some more cheese until the container is full, and she sets it aside on the counter next to her. Obi-Wan fries the onions and then the bacon, and puts them away to keep warm until the perogies are ready. Anakin decides to remain in their company instead of going back into his room, and settles himself on the couch with his phone.

The smooth, even speaking voice from Obi-Wan’s podcast continues, and from the speaker in Anakin's room, a new song comes on. The perogies start to float, and Obi-Wan transfers them to the cast iron skillet he used for the bacon and onions, and turns to Anakin and Ahsoka.

“Will you kids please start to set the table?” He says. “Anakin, you’ll have to show Ahsoka where everything is. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“Roger roger,” Anakin swings his legs off the couch and comes over into the kitchen. They get plates, cutlery, and glasses of water-- it takes quite a bit of maneuvering and dodging with the three of them in the small kitchen, but within a few minutes, the table is set and Obi-Wan is dishing out the food. 

It’s as Ahsoka is sitting down and scooping sour cream onto her plate that it actually sinks in that she’s at a family dinner right now. 

It’s not something she’s used to.

She’s used to sneaking bear paws to sustain herself, or bringing her dinner up to her room and bringing the dishes back down late at night when everyone else has one to bed. She’s used to trying to figure out how to feed herself, and sitting alone in the kitchen having cereal for dinner. Not… this. But this is her new normal.

She doesn’t realize she’s spaced out until Anakin is waving his hand in front of her face. “Hey, Snips? You okay?”

Ahsoka blinks and shakes herself out of it. Anakin and Obi-Wan are looking at her with matching expressions of concern. She smiles.

“Yeah. I’m great, actually.” She says, and means it. “Just really happy to be here.”

“And we’re happy you’re here too!” Anakin beams and then turns to elbow Obi-wan in the side. “ Right , Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan gives him a funny look. “What is that about, of course I agree.” He turns to Ahsoka. “I’m very glad to have you here as well, Ahsoka. I’m hoping with you around, maybe Anakin will finally learn some sense of responsibility.”

Anakin squawks, and Ahsoka enjoys a snicker at his expense. The conversation turns to further bickering. Ahsoka digs into her meal. It’s delicious.

Chapter Text

The morning starts the same way every morning for the last eight years has started: with chaos. 

Obi-Wan sleeps through his alarm again— another restless night—, and so instead of being woken up by the mechanical beeping of his alarm clock, he is rather rudely awoken by his bedroom door slamming open. 

“Wha—“ Obi-Wan jolts up and pulls the covers up to his chin reflexively, even though he’s never slept in the nude and hasn’t started now. He blinks uncomprehendingly as Anakin rushes into his bathroom and slams the door shut behind him. 

“Ahsoka’s hogging the main bathroom,” the teen shouts through the door by way of explanation. It takes a second for the whole situation to fully register with Obi-Wan, not all the way awake, until he groggily turns his head to look at the time. 

“Ack!” Obi-Wan yelps and throws himself out of bed. He grabs his glasses and makes a dive for the closet, pulling on the first pair of shirt and pants he sees. 

Every now and then Obi-Wan finds himself profusely thanking his past self for realizing it’s far more efficient to pack lunches the night before as opposed to the morning of. This is one of those times. He pulls the two prepacked lunchboxes from the fridge and sets them out on the counter for Anakin and Ahsoka to find, then grabs Threepio’s leash and starts looking for the dog. 

He finds him laying down on the rug in Anakin’s room, and coaxes him to his feet for his walk. 

Threepio’s morning walks are always the most stressful part of any day where they’re running late, because, well… Threepio is not fast. Joint problems aside, he’s frightened easily and sometimes refuses to move from his spot. That’s why morning walks are always short. Some dogs bark at squirrels. Threepio has a phobia of them. 

When Obi-Wan and Threepio get back, Anakin and Ahsoka are both sitting at the table eating cereal. 

He quickly pours out Threepio’s breakfast and ducks into his bathroom. He comes back out into the living room running a comb through his hair. “Is it safe for me to assume you two will be taking the bus to school today?” 

“Yeah,” Anakin says with his mouth full of food. Obi-Wan grimaces. 

“Alright. Anakin, be sure not to forget your fencing gear then. There’s practise after school today and you have a tournament coming up.”

“Oh yeah!” Anakin brightens and turns to Ahsoka. “Snips, are you coming to the practise today?” 

“Hell yeah!”

The teens’ voices fade as Obi-Wan steps back into the bathroom to continue trying to make himself look presentable in the scant few minutes he has left before he has to leave. 

The bus is more than a little crowded, especially with the large fencing bag slung over one of Anakin’s shoulders. It only gets more packed the closer they get to the school, and by the time they’re getting off the bus, Ahsoka has to grip Anakin's jean jacket to not get swept away in the rippling crowd. 

When they get inside, Rex and the guys are sitting by Rex’s locker (which is right down the hall from Anakin’s). Ahsoka goes over to the group while Anakin takes on the arduous task of shoving his giant fencing bag into his locker. As she approaches, she notices a girl standing over the group and chatting with them. She inserts herself into the circle-blob, taking a seat on the floor between Rex and Echo. 

“Hey guys,” she says, and Rex turns towards her. 

“Hey, Ahsoka,” he says, then points to the girl, “Have you met Keasha? Well if you haven’t, this is Keasha, she’s the cheer captain. Keasha, this is Ahsoka, the newest honorary Fett.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Keasha- the cheer captain- looks right at Ahsoka and smiles and waves. Her lipgloss is really shiny. Ahsoka finds herself randomly flushing under the attention. 

“Uh, yeah, you too.” 

“So,” Keasha turns back to Rex. “New cheer, thoughts?” 

Rex hands her a phone that Ahsoka assumes is hers— mostly because the case is covered in sparkly stickers and she immediately puts it in her coat pocket, so really there’s no question if it’s hers. “Looks great,” he says. “Can’t wait to see it on the field.” 

Keasha smirks. “I’ll bet you can’t. See you guys on Friday.” Then she turns and swans down the hallway with all the grace Ahsoka figures the head cheerleader would have to have, her tight curls bouncing with every step. 

Just then, Anakin extremely un gracefully plunks himself down in between her and Rex, squeezing in where there really isn’t space to begin with. 

When Anakin steps off the piste he goes from— Ahsoka’s not as sure on this one, something, like, graceful and elegant or whatever— to full on bull in a China shop. He’s like a tank and the rest of them are all bicycles. 

He responds to the others’ greetings with a dab and accidentally smacks Rex in the face. 

A really fast tank, Ahsoka corrects her earlier thought, that she’s pretty sure forgot his meds this morning. 

Even though Ms. Unduli is one of the other teachers that chaperones fencing club field trips— apparently being a fencing club alumni herself— technically speaking, Obi-Wan is the only teacher that actually supervises/runs the club after school. The downside to this is that quite a lot has to be set up for practise— the pistes (the long strips on which the actual fencing matches are held) need to be put down with masking tape, the racks of spare equipment need to be brought out, and so do those beeping machines that the school invested in a good few years ago, which also need to be plugged in. 

This is why Obi-Wan has, deployed at his will, a team of volunteer students who help him set up everything in the gym after school for practise. That team is made up entirely of teacher’s pets, and Ahsoka and Anakin are Cool™️, which is why they don’t help set up. They, of course, are fashionably late— but not too late or else Obi-Wan will kick their asses. Anakin explained all this to her very clearly already. 

You can tell who’s really serious about fencing and who’s mostly just there for fun based on who is wearing fencing pants and who isn’t.  For example, Anakin, the irrefutable star of the club, has the full getup, crisp white pants, jacket, and socks and shoes, and he has a helmet and glove that actually fit properly, because it’s his own gear, topped off with his very own very shiny sabre. Meanwhile Ahsoka, who has only just started out, is still using the school’s spare gear, which means an old jacket that she has to roll the sleeves up on, an old helmet, an old glove with a hole worn in the thumb, and a very dinged up practise foil. All on top of her jeans and duct taped sneakers. 

Obi-Wan has offered to get her her own, nicer gear as well, but Ahsoka wants to see if she’ll grow more before investing in anything fancy. 

The practise starts with cardio— running from one end of the gym to the other, jumping jacks, etc, and then the swords come out and everyone starts pairing up for drills. 

So far, Anakin is the only other person in the fencing club that Ahsoka knows, so ideally she would want to pair with him, but he uses sabre and she uses foil so they’re in different groups. She looks around the gym as the people around her find their partners, searching for pretty much anyone she at least vaguely recognizes. 

Then all of a sudden, a new voice speaks up over the clamour to her right. “Hey, do you want to be partners?”

Ahsoka barely keeps herself from jumping and whips her head around to see who spoke, accidentally smacking herself in the face with her braids. 

Standing next to her is a girl. The girl is in full gear, obviously her own because it’s very clean and not even wrinkled at all— Anakin’s is very wrinkled— and a very snug black hijab, probably so it will stay put when she takes her helmet off and on. Immediately, Ahsoka notices her dark freckles, and her very pronounced Cupid’s bow. Which is what makes Ahsoka realize she actually knows this girl. 

“We have geography together!” Ahsoka says, her brain skipping right past the task of answering the girl’s question to say that instead. 

“Yes, we do,” the girl says with a patient smile. “You’re Ahsoka, right? You did that presentation on Six Grandfathers and said that we should blow--”

“Blow the colonizers’ faces off the rock, yeah,” Ahsoka finishes for her. “And you’re, uhhh…?”

“Barriss,” the girl introduces herself. “So, partners?”

“Sure!” Ahsoka grins. The two girls start looking for a spot on the lines. 

“So, uh, how long have you been fencing for?” Ahsoka says, eyeing Barriss’ fancy gear and the coloured patches sewn onto the sleeve of her jacket.

“Almost three years,” Barriss says, and Ahsoka tries to look like she didn’t just choke on air. “You?” 

“Like two weeks,” Ahsoka admits. For a second, she worries that Barriss might laugh at her, or say something otherwisely condescending about her lack of experience. Truth is, Ahsoka has thought the idea of fencing was really, really cool for years, since she saw Barbie and the three musketeers when she was a kid-- but it’s hardly a cheap sport. 

But Barriss doesn’t do anything of the sort. Instead, she seems genuinely excited that someone else is getting into a sport she’s clearly passionate about, and even offers for her and Ahsoka to practise together outside of school, but only if she wants to of course. Ahsoka enthusiastically agrees even as her face starts to feel hot, and she hopes Barriss can’t see the darkening of her cheeks from where she’s standing.

Luckily, Obi-Wan chooses that moment to tell everyone to get into place and start the drills, and Ahsoka shoves her helmet on so fast she thinks for a second she might have bruised her nose. 

They practise lunging and parrying: one person lunges and the other tries to parry the blow. Although, to be honest, Barriss doesn’t seem to need to try so hard. She blocks most of Ahsoka’s attacks pretty easily, and while Ahsoka does get a few hits in, a little voice in the back of her head says that Barriss was just giving her a couple of freebies. 

Once, though, Ahsoka tries putting a little more power into her lunge and while Barriss does parry it, as in, Ahsoka wouldn’t have gotten the point if this were an actual match, the rubber-protected tip of her foil hits the other girl’s arm hard enough that Barriss takes a stumbling step back.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Ahsoka takes an aborted step towards her as Barriss hisses and rubs her probably bruised bicep with her ungloved hand. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Barriss looks back up at her, her helmet tilting in a way that makes Ahsoka think she’s smiling. “You’re very strong.” 

Ahsoka flexes, her posture smug, and Barriss giggles, her shoulders shaking slightly with it. 

After that it’s time for everyone to switch, so that whoever was lunging is now parrying, and whoever was parrying is now lunging. Which means it’s Ahsoka’s turn to be on the defensive. 

Now, okay, she doesn’t mean to be rude, but Barriss is pretty skinny, and Ahsoka had underestimated her strength just a little bit-- so when Barriss lunges, despite Ahsoka’s best effort, the tip of her foil gets her right in the stomach.

Obi-Wan comes over to them, then, and reminds Ahsoka to keep most of the movement of her parry in her wrist, instead of her shoulder or elbow. “You want to redirect the tip of her sword,” he says, “Not necessarily knock the whole blade to the side, which would be much more difficult.”

“Thanks, Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka says. Obi-Wan smiles at her and continues with his rounds of the gym, and she gets back into her stance. 

She tries to take Obi-Wan’s feedback to heart, but the truth of the matter is, Barriss has been practising this a lot longer than she has, and on her next lunge, Barriss’ sword hits Ahsoka right in the boob, and hard . The rubber tip only serves to transform the foil into a blunt force, and does nothing to mitigate the force of the blow. Ahsoka wheezes and folds in on herself, her arms crossing protectively over her poor, battered chest. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Barriss runs over. “Are you okay? Oh no, I got you in the boob, didn’t I? I am so sorry!”

“Please, spare them,” Ahsoka grunts. “They are so small and helpless.”

Despite herself, Barriss laughs, and helps Ahsoka stand up straight again. Obi-Wan comes jogging back over as Ahsoka rubs the newly bruised spot on her chest with the heel of her palm. 

“Is everything alright over here?” 

Ahsoka gives him a thumbs up. Barriss nods. “You should probably think about getting a chestplate, like I have.” She knocks on her sternum, so Ahsoka can hear the hard plastic under her jacket. 

Obi-Wan’s face turns sympathetic. “Oh, it happened to you, didn’t it?” Ahsoka nods, and he sighs. “Yes, fencing can be much more injury inducing than people tend to assume despite the literal use of swords . Maybe one day, I’ll tell you the story of the time I came out of a match with a bloody nose.”

Then he walks away again to the other side of the gym where the sabre kids are practising. Barriss and Ahsoka turn to look at each other, and from this close Ahsoka can see through the meshed metal of Barriss’ mask to make out her shocked expression that surely matches her own.

The practise after that carries on pretty uneventfully. They go from drills to practise matches, and Ahsoka and Barriss partner up for that, too. (Barriss wins most of them, but she tells Ahsoka that she’s “a natural” and “really talented” and that makes Ahsoka feel like she’s been eating cotton balls. But, like, in a good way. She has a stomach full of cotton but it’s good.)

In fact, the next memorable thing that happens, happens after practise is done and everyone is packing up. 

Ahsoka, at this point, has no idea of how often she will look back on this interaction for the rest of her life.

She hangs up the jacket she was using on the rack-- she’s all sweaty underneath it, gross-- and scans across the gym for Anakin. She spots him by the door, talking to someone that she can’t make out from behind Anakin’s tall-and-broad frame. She finishes putting away her borrowed gear and walks over. As she gets closer, Anakin shifts his weight to the side, revealing the elderly figure of Mr. Palpatine, the principal, who Ahsoka only recognizes from the start of year assembly. 

She falters in her step a little on her way across the room, more than a little intimidated. But if Anakin ‘has a problem with authority’ Skywalker is talking to him, then it’s probably fine. 

“Hey Skyguy,” Ahsoka comes up to Anakin’s side, only glancing at Mr. Palpatine out of the corner of her eye. 

“Hey Snips!” Anakin beams down at her. “Have you met Sheev yet?”

It takes effort for Ahsoka to not laugh. Sheev ? 

“Uh, no.” She looks up at Mr. Palpatine then, as this is the first time she’s actually seen the man up close. He’s taller than her, of course, pretty much everyone is, and clearly getting on in years, but he doesn’t carry himself like he is. The smile lines on his face are deep, and he projects a very grandfatherly sort of vibe. But even as the principal gives her a friendly smile, it doesn’t seem to really reach his eyes. In fact his eyes seem almost… cold, like a shallow sheet of ice. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, my dear,” the principal says, giving her a nod. He’s still smiling. His teeth are very white. “I’m afraid I’ve only heard a little about you; this year has already been so busy I’ve barely had time to catch up with my favourite students.” 

Then he turns back to Anakin and puts a hand on the older boy’s shoulder. Ahsoka’s eye zeroes in on the way Mr. Palpatine’s thumb moves along the seam of Anakin’s fencing jacket, but Anakin doesn’t even react to the contact at all, so it must be normal. Instead, Anakin makes a sort of ‘aw, shucks’ gesture, and says,

“Aren’t you not supposed to have favourites?”

Mr. Palpatine’s smile turns indulgent, and he chuckles a little. “Well, of course I care for all my students,” he says, placing his other hand on his chest, over his fancy suit. “But I also recognize that some require more care and nurturing than others in order to truly flourish.”

Anakin puffs out his chest, obviously proud to be considered one of the principal’s favourites. Which Ahsoka guesses is fair, actually, since from what she’s heard, Mr. Palpatine is as good as a celebrity in this school for how much everyone loves him. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, sir.” Ahsoka says. 

“It’s always so wonderful to see fresh faces here,” Mr. Palpatine sighs, looking out at the gym full of kids packing up and getting ready to go home. “This club is my pride and joy, you know.”

“Sheev was a fencing world champion back in the day,” Anakin butts in. “He has three Olympic gold medals!” 

Ahsoka’s eyebrows raise of their own volition, because, wow, that is pretty cool, actually, and not at all something she expected. Though it does sort of explain why there’s a school-funded fencing club at a public school. Mr. Palpatine just gives a humble little chuckle. 

“That was a long time ago. Now I spend my time mentoring promising young fencers like Anakin, here.” His gaze zeroes in on something across the room. “Ah, yes, if you’ll excuse me, I must go talk budget with Kenobi. Boring adult things, you know. Until next time, Anakin, and you, Ahsoka, very lovely to meet you.” 

Ahsoka scoots closer to Anakin to nudge him with her elbow as they watch Mr. Palpatine walk away. “So when were you going to tell me you’re on a first name basis with the principal?” She teases him. 

“I’m like the grandson he never had,” Anakin brags, dodges her ribbing. “Sheev is actually really cool, though. He’s been a really great mentor, and it was actually him that paid for my first fencing equipment. I owe him a lot.” 

Ahsoka blinks. “Oh. Yeah, that does sound pretty cool. I guess most principals or even teachers don’t really pay that much attention to their students.” 

Anakin starts walking over to where his bag is propped against the wall by the bench, unzipping his jacket along the way. Ahsoka follows. “Sheev actually cares ,” he says, his expression sobering. “He’s different from the other grown ups.”

“Obi-Wan and Mr. Plo care,” Ahsoka says, and Anakin pauses, kneeling on the floor over his bag, his back to her. 

“It’s different.” He repeats. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” 

Ahsoka’s mouth twists at the dismissal but she shrugs and lets it go anyway. Anakin has his weird moments, there’s things he doesn’t like to talk about, it’s fine. It’ll just make him mad if she pushes. 

Obi-Wan sees Palpatine coming his way from the other side of the gym and has to turn around for a second to let himself sigh before plastering a smile on his face. He turns back around, masking his irritation well. 

It’s not as though he doesn’t like principal Palpatine, but, well… he doesn’t really like him. Not that he’d ever express such an opinion of course, because he very much would like to keep his job, of course. But there’s just a sort of ego on him that really rubs Obi-Wan the wrong way. There’s a sort of smugness about him he doesn’t understand. 

Maybe it’s because he’s so rich. 

Also, he has a nagging feeling that Palpatine doesn’t like him, either, but he’s never found any evidence to prove it one way or the other. 

Even so, as the principal gets closer, Obi-Wan tries to seem as friendly and docile as he can.

“Obi-Wan, how have you been?” Palpatine is wearing what Obi-Wan calls his ‘politician smile’. “I know I forwarded you the email already, but I wanted to inform you in person that the board has approved a tournament budget. Unfortunately they will only be allotting half of what we asked, but I will be happy to compensate any costs out of my own pocket, as usual.” 

“Of course. You’ve always been very generous,” Obi-Wan says. He’s almost positive that that isn’t what Palpatine actually came over here to talk about. 

“Speaking of tournaments, I know there’s one later this month. Will Anakin be competing?” 

Yep, there it is. No one can deny how Palpatine dotes on Anakin. Frankly, Obi-Wan is just glad that Anakin has one more adult he trusts— he doesn’t always come to him when he’s having troubles, and Obi-Wan worries. But Palpatine has been working at this school for so long, since Obi-Wan himself went here, and no one really has anything bad to say about him (except Obi-Wan, but his criticisms are subjective anyway), he’s glad that it’s someone well known and trusted that Anakin does confide in. 

“Oh, you and I both know that Anakin would just die if he couldn’t compete.” Obi-Wan half-laughs. 

“Yes, of course, of course. I saw him with his Sabre earlier and he’s already doing magnificently. I assume he’s been practising over the summer?”

Obi-Wan nods. “I’ve been teaching him.” 

“You know,” Palpatine leans in, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I really do think Anakin has what it takes to go all the way in this sport. So I was wondering if I had your blessing to offer him additional, private coaching? Obviously I wouldn’t want to step on any toes, you are his primary instructor after all.” 

“It’s Anakin’s decision,” Obi-Wan says. “You’ll have to talk to him about it.” 

Palpatine grins, all teeth and gums. “Absolutely. Well, I won’t keep you any longer than I must, we all have places to be.” 

And with that he just walks away, looking out of place in the school gym with his expensive suit and polished shoes, and as Obi-Wan watches him leave, an alarm bell sounds faintly in the back of his mind.

Chapter Text

It’s Friday night. The stands are packed, bodies pressed in shoulder to shoulder. Everyone is here to see the game— the Coruscant North High Troopers versus the Central Immaculata School Clankers. 

The game hasn’t even started yet but the field is full of noise, the band is playing, the cheerleaders are cheering, and the crowd is already yelling their excitement. Between the bright lights shining down on the field and the sea of people in the stands, it’s sweltering hot. The otherwise cool night’s breeze does nothing. 

But it was absolutely right when Echo said that they always have the best seats. There’s a whole group of Fetts And Co. taking up nearly an entire bench right at the front and centre of the stands. Kix and Echo are there, along with Cody, Ninety-Nine, some more adults that Ahsoka had assumed are someone’s parents but didn’t want to ask whose, and some more younger kids. Tup and Dogma, too, who are in Ahsoka’s class but they haven’t really talked. Next to Kix is Anakin and next to Anakin is Ahsoka. 

Anakin seems distracted. 

Ahsoka is also distracted, transfixed by the cheer squad doing their routine on the track with their huge smiles and their pompoms. She’s thinking of maybe taking up gymnastics. 

Anakin is not thinking about gymnastics. He knows the bags under his eyes probably aren’t that visible, but they feel dark and heavy. He hadn’t slept well last night, and really all he wants is to go home and lie down. But he’s never missed one of Rex’s games before and he’s definitely not starting now. 

Just then the band picks up playing with renewed vigour, and both teams come running out onto the field. The cheers from the full stands rise until the noise is deafening . Their school’s team in their blue and white contrasts with the other school’s team in orange and gray. The players run around, punching the air and hyping up the crowd. 

They can’t make out their faces through the grid of their helmets, but the players are identifiable by the huge numbers on their jerseys. For example, the guy that gives the cheerleaders fingerguns on his way past has the number 69 plastered on his torso, so they know it’s  Hardcase. Though, they would probably be able to pick him out even without it. Hardcase does a cartwheel. Coach Krell barks at him from the sidelines. 

Things turn a little more serious and tension in the air rises when the two teams line up in the center of the field. Even the clouds in the dark sky hold their breath until the whistle cuts through the silence and then everything is moving .

The ball is in the air and then it’s in Rex’s hands. Right away he starts running down the field and pivots away from an attempted tackle. In the same movement he tosses the football to one of their guys who launches it down the field and right into the hands of their wide receiver. 

The wide receiver sprints with the ball tucked safely in his arm towards the end of the field, the Clankers’ defence hot on his heels. But as fast as the other team is going trying to catch him, their guy is faster. 

Every player on the field is running after him— either to stop him or to support him, rescue the ball if they need to, keep it in the hands of their team. There’s already blood roaring in Rex’s ears, his adrenaline spiked. 

He can hear the sound of cleats pounding on the turf, people in the stands shouting encouragement, the cheerleaders cheering their hearts out, his own breathing in his helmet, and as always, as ever, head coach Krell yelling at them from the sidelines.

The game’s only just started and already the stakes are high. 

Their wide receiver’s almost made it, just a few feet from the endzone. One of the Clankers’ defence makes a dive for his legs but the wide receiver jumps up and rolls over the guy’s back to land right in the endzone! 

“Touchdown!” The crowd goes absolutely fucking rabid. Rex slows to a jog and looks out over the stands, at all the people, his family and friends, on their feet and clapping and hollering. The cheerleaders are jumping up and down with huge grins on all their faces, wildly shaking their pompoms in the air. 

Rex jogs over to the guy who made the touchdown and slaps him on the back. All around them their teammates are celebrating while the Clankers sulk back towards the line. 

This puts them right in the lead at 7-0. A touchdown right in the first minute— that’s a fucking great way to start the game. 

But when Rex looks in coach Krell’s direction, there’s nothing on the large man’s face other than his permanent scowl. Not that he expected any different. 

He has to keep his head out of the clouds. Yeah, It’s a great start, but they haven’t won yet. The game can turn out of their favour any moment. 

It doesn’t, though. The Clankers score a field goal that puts the score at 7-3, then the Troopers’ best kicker gets them to 10-3. They stay in the lead for the first half, only getting a scare when one of the Clankers’ absolute tanks of an offence bowls one of theirs down and he stays down. 

Just a scare, though— it takes a few moments but he eventually gets up and walks it off, limping to the bench and another guy goes out onto the field in his place. 

Then they get to the halftime break with the score at 21-13, and the team settles, sweaty and tired but still raring to go, with their water bottles in the stadium’s locker room. Coach Krell comes in and everyone silences and stiffens. Rex notices Fives fixing his posture as Krell marches past him, his meaty hands clasped behind his back. 

“I don’t think I need to stress to you all how important it is that you hold on to this lead.” Krell barks in the quiet locker room. “We’re going to state and this year we’re going to win . There’s no room for losing! Those guys out there would kill you if they had the chance! They want to beat you down and destroy you! But you’re not going to let them!” 

“No sir!” The team choruses back at him as one. 

“Because you’re tough! Strong! When you go back out there are you going to let them walk all over you!”

“No sir!”

“Good isn’t good enough, you have to be great ! You’re going to go out there and win! You’ll do whatever it takes! Break their goddamn backs if you have to!” Krell screams in their faces. Rex grits his teeth. 

“Yes sir!”

“Failure is not an option! Now get back out there and play some goddamn football!” 

He points at the door and they scramble to their feet, shoving their helmets on their heads and running out. 

They get back onto the field just as the break ends. They run out onto the grass in time to see the last few moves of the cheer squad’s new routine. On their way past, Fives whistles at them, and Rex smacks the back of his head even as the cheerleaders laugh. 

The game starts up again and they do keep the lead, but it gets close. Time is running out and they’re only winning by 30-27, and the Clankers seem dead set on a touchdown. 

Rex isn’t going to let that happen. They’re going to score again, and they’re not going to give the Clankers a single yard. 

Failure is not an option. 

The ref’s whistle blows and they throw themselves into action, the ball in their hands, moving through each step of the play they’ve practiced to exhaustion. Rex gets the ball and runs towards the edge of the field, looking for the opening to pass it far-- almost, no, wait, yes, right here, now --

He plants his back foot and pulls his arm back to throw. But halfway through the move suddenly something huge and heavy is crashing into him from behind, knocking the air out of him and trying to push him to the ground. He tries to keep his feet under him and the ball in his hand, not letting it go. But even as he pushes against the guy holding him back every player on the field converges on them. 

All of a sudden he’s caught in the middle of a dogpile, people pushing and pulling from all sides. Rex loses his balance and the whole swarm of football players goes down. He lands on his back on the turf at the very bottom of it, all the still struggling bodies on top of him squeezing the air out of his lungs. He thinks he might have accidentally kneed someone in the crotch. The ball rolls out from his grip and hits the ground.

The Clankers take it.

Everyone’s shouting. His vision is a swarm of orange and gray and white and blue. The referee blows his whistle, the shrill sharp sound cutting through all the noise. Finally the dogpile disperses, guys grunting and pushing themselves to their feet. Rex sits up with a groan, pressing a hand to his side that’s probably already starting to bruise. Above him, a blue and white 97 appears. Rex looks up to see Jesse standing there, extending a hand to help him up. Rex takes it.

“Sorry, Rex,” his cousin says as he pulls him to his feet. “I couldn’t stop him in time.” 

“It’s not your fault, Jesse, it’s okay.” Rex brushes himself off. He glances at the scoreboard. There’s less than a minute left. “We still have the lead. If we can stop them from scoring, we’ll win the game.” 

Jesse gives him a determined nod, and the teams line up for what is probably going to be the last play of the night. 

Nerves twist in Rex’s gut as he resolutely does not look at the edge of the field. He can feel coach Krell’s lazer glare melting a hole in the side of his helmet. He needs to keep his head in the game.

The whistle blows and it feels like everything is plunged into slow motion. The Clankers seize the ball and take off like they’re being chased by the devil. Which they might as well be, for how determined the Troopers are to stop them.

It’s as if his head’s been plunged underwater, every other sound in the stadium fading into the background as him and every other Trooper on that field sprint after the ball. 

Usually, the Clankers aren’t that good-- their main strategy is to overwhelm, like they did to Rex just minutes ago, but now they’re having a cute little moment of good footwork and teamwork. The Clankers maneuver the ball from player to player, evading interceptions and tackles as they drive hard down the field.

The ball lands in the hands of the Clanker’s goliath of a runningback. Troopers literally hang off his limbs and get dragged along as he pushes closer to the endzone. Rex can feel his heart pounding in their throat. 

He’s getting closer. He’s not stopping. He’s barely even slowing down. 

But then-- holy shit, then Hardcase comes swooping down like some kind of majestic fucking eagle and leaps , latching onto the big guy’s shoulders and swinging his legs around and up in a move that Rex thinks he’s seen the cheerleaders do in their routines before, but this time in reverse, and Hardcase uses the momentum and the runningback’s own size against him to bring him crashing backwards to the ground. 

The rest of them jump on the opening-- literally-- pinning the runningback down just a meter from the endzone as a scramble for the ball begins and the seconds on the clock tick down to zero.

The clock hits zero just as one of their own bursts from the pile, football in hand and held high above his head in victory. 

They won.

The stadium explodes into screams and cheers, their band comes to life playing a victory song. The dogpile breaks apart and Rex rises to his feet and rips off his helmet, feeling the breeze on his scalp and the sweat beaded on his face cooling, he looks up at the sky and smiles. They won! 

Of course, they’re hardly the underdogs-- they’re used to winning. But it still feels so, so sweet every time.

In the stands, his friends and family are losing their minds, probably losing their voices cheering and wildly waving flags in their school’s colours. Rex grins and waves to them with his whole arm, then makes the mistake of lowering his gaze to the sidelines. Coach Krell is still just standing there, his arms crossed, and looking right at him with a heavy glare on his face. 

Rex’s heart sinks.

Inside the locker room, spirits are not as high as they were on the field. 

“That was a sloppy game out there, boys!” Coach Krell stalks between the benches in the locker room, growling at every player he passes by. They won the game, but that doesn’t matter— what matters is that they almost didn’t. “I didn’t teach you all to just let the enemy team bulldoze you like pansies under a steam roller! Because that’s what you are! A bunch of goddamn pansies!”

He rounds on Rex next, getting right in his face. Rex frowns and looks to the side. “What the hell was that, 75! You plan on dropping the ball like that in the playoffs!?”

“No.” Rex grits out. Krell refers to all the players by their last name, but there’s more than a few Fetts on the team. So he calls them by their jersey number instead. 

Rex fucking hates it. 

“What was that?”

“No, sir!” 

“What’s the matter with you!” Krell barks, shoving Rex’s shoulder. Rex stays glaring down at the floor. “Letting that Clanker take you down like it was nothing! I’ve seen you dodge faster, hell I’ve seen you push through dogpiles heavier than that! What the hell was wrong with you today!” 

“I—“ Rex starts, but Krell cuts him off with another shove, this time knocking him into the guy sitting next to him. 

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” Krell seethes. “Remember, no room for failure! And if you’re going to be playing sloppy like that and giving me attitude, then you can consider yourself off the team! Is that what you want, 75!? To be off the team!?” 

Rex looks Krell in the eye. “No sir!” He yells. 

“That’s what I thought.” Krell hisses, then stands to address the whole room. “Do better next time, all of you!”

And with that he storms out of the room, leaving tense silence in his wake. Rex can feel eyes on him. He just bends down and focuses on untying his cleats.

“And of course, not a word for my fancy move that basically saved us the game,” Hardcase grumbles nearby.

“Come on, Hardcase,” Fives jokes. “You know Krell doesn’t do praise. Backhanded compliments are the best you could hope for.” 

Everyone is sure that coach Krell literally just hates them. All of them. Rex has no idea why he would want to be a high school football coach if that’s the case, but what makes Rex madder than almost anything is that as negative and aggressive as Krell is, he's still an effective coach. They’ve gone to state every year since Krell started coaching here seven years ago… they just haven’t won state in a couple of years. Always in second or third place. 

That’s going to change this year, though. They’re going to state and they’re going to win . Rex is going to make sure of it.

His cousins and brothers and teammates are laughing and joking together when they swarm out into the parking lot where everyone is waiting, but Rex can’t seem to shake his bad mood. 

Coach Krell just pisses him off so much. Rex prides himself in being pretty much unshakable, but it’s just something about Krell’s shit talking and his comments and his lowkey-to-blatant on a bad day homophobia that just really gets under his skin. 

But his head empties when someone suddenly appears right in front of him. “Hey, Rex!” Says the cheerleader. 

“Oh, uh, hi, Key.” Rex blinks down at him. 

Key is one of the handful of guys on the cheer squad. He’s shorter than the rest of them but pretty stocky, and he’s a good gymnast. And a good choreographer, according to Keasha. Rex has gotten to know most of the cheerleaders pretty well over the years, especially the ones in his grade, since he also has classes with them. (And they all seem really determined to get to know him, too). Key still has his cheerleader uniform on, but he’s put a windbreaker on over top of it. 

“Sooo,” Key twists a loc of hair around his finger. “Keasha sent me to ask you if you have any Halloween plans…?” 

Oh yeah, Halloween. That’s in a few weeks. Rex shakes his head. Key smiles. 

“Well you do now! Halloween party at Brianna’s mom’s house, costumes mandatory of course.” Key winks at him. “Bring all your friends, it’s going to be fun!” 

“Uh, sure!” Rex sort of can’t help but smile back. “I’ll see you there, I guess?” 

“Totally! See you later, Rex.” Key beams and hops off back towards the gaggle of cheerleaders. Rex watches him go, but turns away when he sees Key, Keasha, and Brianna giggling together and glancing over at him. 

Just as he looks around for his friends and family, Jesse and Hardcase come up on either side of him, and Fives runs past them towards his twin.

“Now there’s a guy I’d like to see in the skirt,” Jesse grins. Rex smacks him. 

“I can’t take you anywhere,” he groans. 

They find everyone gathered in the parking lot around Artoo The Car and the Fett Van Caravan. As soon as Ahsoka spots them she comes running over with a huge grin on her face. 

“Dude that was so fucking awesome!” She yells excitedly. “I honestly didn’t think I’d be that thrilled by football but that was so epic and intense and you guys were so good AAAAHH!!!” Rex smiles at her infectious enthusiasm. 

Uncle Ninety-Nine comes forward with a smile on his face. “You boys played a great game today,” he says, and Cody nods in agreement. 

“Hardcase, that was a really clever move at the end there,” Cody says. “Though do be careful not to accidentally get crushed under a large opponent. Falling at the wrong angle, you could really damage something.” 

“You got it, coach.” Hardcase jokes back, but Rex can tell he actually does internalize the feedback. 

“Ooh, I’m so proud of you boys!” Hardcase’s mom comes over and pinches his cheek. He waves her off with a smile. 

“I say this win needs to be celebrated with pizza,” Jesse’s dad says, and the group cheers. 

Rex’s (and Cody and Echo and Fives’) dad isn’t here, but he knew he wouldn’t be. He’s at work all this week. It’s fine, though, because in all honesty, Rex does feel like at least he should have done better, and he’s a little glad his dad wasn’t here to see this game. 

“Do you guys want to come?” Rex says to Ahsoka and Anakin. Ahsoka says yes with her whole chest, but when Rex looks to Anakin— who hasn’t said anything yet— for his response, he stops. “Damn, Skywalker, you look dead on your feet.”

“I’m not tired,” Anakin yawns. Except he clearly is. Rex almost thinks he might fall asleep at the wheel. He’s definitely not up for Pizza With The Boys. 

“You don't have to if you don’t want to,” Rex says. “We can drop Ahsoka off at home after, you should get some sleep.” 

Anakin rubs his eyes. “Thanks, man. And, hey, you guys really were great out there.” 

He gets in his car, but before he can close the driver’s side door behind him, Rex catches it. “One more thing— do you and Tano have Halloween plans?” 

Anakin shakes his head. 

“Well you do now. Halloween party at Brianna’s mom’s house, costumes mandatory. We’ve been formally invited.” 

“I don’t know why you’re always dragging me to all these parties,” Anakin laughs. “You hate going to those.” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rex reaches into the car to mess up Anakin’s hair. “So I don’t have to suffer alone, of course.”

His friend swats his hand away with another laugh. “Alright, let me go, you jackass.” Rex does, backing away from the car as Anakin pulls away and drives off. Really, he should probably go straight to bed, he looks like he needs it, but realistically Rex knows that in less than an hour Anakin will be sending him memes instead of sleeping. 

But once the car is out of sight, Rex frowns. He’s seen Anakin during finals and midterms, pulling all-nighters and surviving off Monster energy drinks for a week straight and still not drooping from the exhaustion. If anything, he usually becomes more manic when operating off little sleep. There’s something different happening right now— even aside from the fact that Rex can’t think of what would have him losing sleep right now— and he’s worried about him. 

He turns to Ahsoka. “Hey, do you know what’s up with Anakin?” 

Ahsoka stops the little excited jig she was doing and looks thoughtful for a moment. “Well, I know he’s trying to get a scholarship with fencing, but I guess it’s not easy. And it’s your guys’ senior year. He’s probably just stressed.” 

Rex just hums in response, not sure what to think. The two of them go over to join the others where they’re piling into the Fett Van Caravan, and he tries to put it out of his mind. Anakin will be fine, he always is, and whatever it is, Rex is one hundred percent sure that if it’s really serious, Anakin will come to him about it eventually. 

Chapter Text

Okay, friends. Obi-Wan knows how to have friends. He is so good at having friends. If one could be graded on having friends, Obi-Wan would have an A+. 

Well, he would have an A+ now . It’s a lot harder to be friends with people while unmedicated. But that’s all in the past. Now , Obi-Wan has assigned himself the task of being friends with Cody— only friends, and nothing more. This ridiculous crush has gone on long enough, it’s time he actually gets to know Cody for who he really is, not whatever Cody-Shaped image of simultaneously desperately desired and completely unattainable perfection the man had been in his mind. That’s not fair to him. 

Besides, Obi-Wan hasn’t… dated, or otherwise… you know… been with… anyone in eight bloody years. He has no idea how he’d even go about getting back on that fecking horse again after such a long and thorough dry spell. 

Which is why he’s going to invite Cody out for drinks with him and his other friends that he is very good at being friends with. They really haven’t talked outside of work-- with the exception of the furniture haul and subsequent ikea trip-- which is too bad because all the times they’ve talked at work have been very nice. And that one time outside of work was exceptionally nice. 

If only he could stop sweating. 

He tries to make it look like he’s not pacing outside Cody’s classroom, because pacing would be weird, and might suggest that he’s nervous about this, which he’s absolutely not, because friends don’t get nervous about inviting their friends to places and activities. Just as he spins on his heel to pace back in the other direction, a wall appears out of thin air right in front of him, and Obi-Wan has to jerk to a stop to not smack into it.

“Kenobi? What are you doing down here?” The wall says, and Obi-Wan is slammed with mortification. 

Because the wall is not a wall, but a person, and that person is Cody. Obi-Wan quickly backs up a few steps. 

“Cody! I was just looking for you.” He quickly pulls himself together, straightening out his sweater. “I was, er, well, most Fridays Quinlan, Kit, and I go out for drinks, and I was wondering if you would like to come with us this week.” 

To his dismay, Cody rubs the back of his neck and looks regretfully to the side, and Obi-Wan can already tell he's going to say no. God, this was a bad idea, what was he thinking—

“I always go to the game on Fridays, but I’m free if you want to go Saturday night instead?” 

Obi-Wan’s brain short circuits. “I— yes! Yes. It would probably just be the two of us, though.” 

“That’s fine.”

Oh my god . “Okay!” Obi-Wan gives a smile that he hopes doesn’t look too manic. It probably doesn’t, he's very good at outward composure. It’s inward composure he struggles with. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Sure, see you,” Cody waves, and Obi-Wan wastes no time turning on his heel again and not running away, thank you very much— because that would be not only embarrassing but rude— but certainly walking quite briskly. 

Okay, that? That right there? Maybe that was more of a C. Maybe it could be a C+. 

God is a University professor and Obi-Wan getting a 1.0 GPA in life. 

But either way, he’s done it. He invited Cody to a friendly outing. Well, Cody did sort of turn the tables and ended up inviting him instead, but that’s fine. Besides, it might be better for them to hang out without Quinlan there, because not only does Quinlan know about Obi-Wan’s crush on Cody, he also just loves chaos, and might be a little too much for Cody to handle. They just don’t really seem like a combination with ‘bff’ potential. 

So it’s actually a good thing that it’s going to be just the two of them on Saturday, and it’s not an anxiety inducing or generally nerve-wracking concept at all. 

There’s no use dwelling on it. Obi-Wan makes sure to remember his breathing exercises. But still, throughout the rest of the day, the knowledge that Cody and he will be going out together, alone, on Saturday lingers ominously in the back of his mind. The only time he manages to actually put it out of his mind is when he’s overseeing fencing club after school, but then it’s only because his focus is taken up by something objectively more ominous. 

Obi-Wan is worried about Anakin. He almost always is, but this time it’s different. 

He knows Anakin has been having nightmares. The walls in their home aren’t that thick, and he remembers when Anakin used to get them almost every night as a child. It at one point got so bad he had to be prescribed medication in order to be able to sleep properly. But over time they became rarer and eventually stopped. The Nightmares, Obi-Wan hypothesizes, have started again. Which means there’s something else that’s wrong, that’s causing them. 

Except the only difference between now and then is that Anakin won’t talk to him about it. Anakin has always liked to feel independent, so Obi-Wan has always tried to give him the space he needs. But even so, the teen used to come to him when he needed help. Something’s changed. 

“Anakin, is everything alright?” Obi-Wan had asked over breakfast on Saturday, the day after Ahsoka’s first game, and in which Anakin came home by himself instead of going out with his friends afterwards. 

“Everything is fine,” Anakin had stabbed viciously at his cereal which he’d barely even touched. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well, it’s just…” Obi-Wan was never good at emotional talks, but he tried. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately. Is something the matter?” 

“No!” Anakin had yelled, immediately incredibly defensive. “Nothing’s wrong. Why don’t you just mind your own business!”

And with that he’d shoved his breakfast away and jumped to his feet, storming into his room and slamming the door shut behind him. Any other attempts to start a similar conversation were likewise met with such outbursts . 

Now it’s been almost another week and nothing’s changed. Anakin is having outbursts reminiscent of when he had anger management problems as a child, and Obi-Wan takes it as a bad omen. He’s getting more aggressive in all other aspects of his life as well, Obi-Wan notices. He keeps a discreet eye on his son brother from across the gym for the whole practise, and takes note of how Anakin is dueling with more power, more anger in every move than he ever has before, treating his opponent far more roughly than strictly called for. 

When he’d introduced Anakin to fencing, he’d intended it to be a way of channelling his negative emotions, not harnessing them. But standing at Anakin’s shoulder all the while is principal Palpatine, a smile on his face as he praises Anakin. Obi-Wan watches Palpatine pat Anakin’s shoulder as Anakin pulls his helmet off and returns the smile, even if it does appear a little strained. 

He feels helpless in his inability to help Anakin. He feels a little jealous that Anakin confides in Palpatine and not him. It seems as though lately every conversation he has with Anakin turns into an argument. He hopes that maybe at least Palpatine might get through to him. 

Perhaps Obi-Wan’s claim that he’s good at having friends was a little hyperbolic, because when Friday does come and he, Quin and Kit go to their usual bar, he hardly makes good company. He tries not to drink too much, knowing he’s going to be going out again tomorrow (with Cody) (!!!) but still somehow ends up with his forehead pressed to the polished tabletop, miserable. Quin laughs at his pain like Obi-Wan knew he would, and Kit tries to reassure him with gentle pats on his back.

He doesn’t even know how he managed to drag the mood down so badly, and even though his friends tell him it’s okay, he still feels bad for being such a downer. 

Later he’s dropped off at home, and comes inside to see both Anakin and Ahsoka’s doors closed, and the lights on shining through the gap between the door and the floor. Obi-Wan sighs and heads straight for bed. 

The next day brings several hours of restless anxiety and anticipation both. Obi-Wan can hardly stay still, but forces himself to anyway, taking a double dose of his anti-anxiety medication and sitting down at the kitchen table with a book and some tea and generally just trying to project an outward sense of calm. He needs to get a grip. He tells himself this while reminding Anakin and Ahsoka to eat the leftovers in the fridge, and tells himself this again, very firmly, while he digs through his closet to find something to wear. Not that it matters what he wears, of course, because this is just a casual friendly outing between two friends who are friends. 

He reminds himself one more time as he’s getting out of the Uber at the bar. Get a bloody grip, Kenobi.

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, makes sure his blazer is straight, and walks in. Cody is already there, seated at the bar, a drink in hand, and in a brief moment of panic Obi-Wan checks his watch— but no, he’s not late, Cody is just early. (Cody is dressed pretty much the same way he always is-- in jeans that look quite comfortable and a plain black t-shirt. Obi-Wan is also dressed the same as always, but he looks down at his own ensemble anyway and wonders if he maybe should have dressed down. Not that he even owns jeans, but…)

“Hello there,” He slides into the seat next to him with a smile and every bit of grace he can muster. Cody turns to face him with a smile of his own. 

“Hey, Kenobi. Glad you could make it,” he says. 

Obi-Wan shrugs his blazer off and lets it drape over the low back of the stool. Cody quickly faces forwards once more and takes a sip of his beer. “We never socialize outside of work, I’d be remiss to pass on this opportunity.” 

“I see you carry that fancy vocabulary of yours with you everywhere,” Cody teases him. 

“Of course, how else would I be universally perceived as an intellectual?” Obi-Wan waves down the bartender and orders a glass of wine. Cody hums as the bartender pours the glass, and Obi-Wan raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing, I’d just been curious about what you’d drink. You’re so, uh, refined, it was hard to imagine you drinking at all.”

Obi-Wan pauses with the glass halfway to his lips, and gives Cody a Look that is usually reserved for Anakin or unruly students. “You were going to say uptight.”

Cody’s reaction gives him away, straightening in his seat and glancing away. “I-- no ,”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan presses. “You think I’m uptight! Unbelievable.”

“Sorry?”

“You better be sorry,” Obi-Wan scoffs, then smirks. “Though I do love subverting expectations.” He says, then lifts his glass and completely drains it in one go, noting with satisfaction out of the corner of his eye how Cody stares, obviously shocked at how easily he pours the alcohol down his throat. 

He sets his empty glass down on the bartop and looks at Cody expectantly. Cody shrugs like he’s thinking ‘screw it’ and then chugs the rest of his own mostly-full beer. They grin at each other and both order another round. 

Drinking contests, it turns out, were really only feasible back in Obi-Wan’s uni days, when he was younger and his metabolism was quicker, because it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to get to the point of well and truly sloshed. He’s turned in his seat and leaning back against the bar on one elbow, his wine glass held recklessly loosely in his other hand away from his body. His face feels warm and he can’t control his laughter-- but luckily Cody is right there with him, looking flushed and happy. 

He doesn’t even remember what they started laughing about in the first place.

Obi-Wan switches between being unable to stop looking at Cody’s smile and unable to stop looking at Cody’s scar, the scar tissue puckered and shiny under the bright lights over the bar. It’s fantastic. He’s simply enamoured. He wishes he could stop. 

He’s too warm. He puts his glass down and starts picking at the buttons on his sleeve cuffs, trying to undo them so he can roll his sleeves up. He struggles with them for a good minute but eventually gets them open, and starts rolling his sleeves up past his elbows-- admittedly somewhat sloppily, but it works. Then Obi-Wan realizes it's suddenly quieter than it used to be, and he looks up in the middle of working on his second sleeve. Cody’s laughter had cut off abruptly, his smile dropped, and is now looking right at him with intense eyes. 

Obi-Wan flushes even as he asks, “Is everything alright, Cody?” 

Cody blinks, and suddenly the look is gone. “Yeah, fine, uh. Actually, I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“What, I mean, why did you decide to become a high school teacher? Just because of, well, your vibe, I guess, Echo called it dark academia but I’m not sure what that means, but also my little brothers and cousins talk about your class a lot, and my other students as well, and I think, well,” Cody clears his throat awkwardly. “You seem like you’d fit in better in a higher education setting. Like teaching college or university. You really stick out in a place like Coruscant North High.”

Obi-Wan pauses, looking down and all of a sudden finding the condensation on his glass so incredibly interesting. He draws a finger through it, collecting the drops of cold water on his fingertip. “You… think I don’t fit in?”

“No, I didn’t mean that! I don’t think that,” Cody quickly corrects before Obi-Wan can spiral into self-doubt and depreciation. “I just think you’re meant for… bigger and better things than that school can give.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan brushes his hair away from his face, looking back up at Cody with a small smile. “It’s not so bad. It has you, after all, and I think you’re wonderful.”

Cody coughs and looks away, but Obi-Wan can still see the corner of his mouth quirk up. “You’re avoiding the question. Why’d you become a high school teacher when you’d do well as a professor-- and definitely get paid more, too?”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan looks back down at his glass. “That… actually had been my plan. To get my PhD and teach at a university level. But it just… didn’t work out.”

“Oh.” Cody says. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking, of course, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.” He pauses. “Was it money?” 

“No,” Obi-Wan says. “Though it certainly wasn’t cheap. Of course, I thought I would be able to pay off my student loans fairly easily once I became a professor. Obviously that didn’t happen, and now I’m still paying for the years of schooling I did for a degree I never ended up earning. No, what happened was my father died suddenly and I had to drop out of school in the middle of my PhD to come home and raise Anakin in his place.” 

Obi-Wan grabs his glass and drains it. He waves the bartender over and asks for the bottle.

“I’m sorry,” Cody says.

“It’s alright.” Obi-Wan pushes his hair back. “Life happens, things don’t work out how you wanted them to, dreams are never realized, it’s fine.” 

He pours himself another glass and sips this one much more temperately. “What about you, why did you decide to be a high school teacher?”

Cody just shrugs. “I don’t know…” he says. “There really isn’t much to the ‘why’. I’ve always been good at woodworking and shop was my best class, so, you remember the old shop teacher?”

“Mr. Patterson? Yes, he taught there for over thirty years.”

“Yeah, well, when I graduated he told me he wanted to retire soon, and if I came back with a teaching licence the job would be mine. So I did.”

“That’s nice of him,” Obi-Wan says. Cody nods. 

“It’s not like I didn’t have options. I’d been offered a ton of football scholarships, full rides, and to good schools, too. But I turned them all down. I needed to be here, with my family, and Mr. Patterson understood that. Better than most people. Better than dad.” Cody chuckles and takes a swig of his beer. “He was fucking pissed when I told him my decision.” 

Obi-Wan frowns. He’s really only met Jango Fett a handful of times— he knows the man is a commercial airline pilot, so he’s away for long periods of time and those periods tend to coincide with parent teacher interview season. So it’s usually Cody or Ninety-Nine that handles that sort of thing. And it’s usually their signatures on tests and consent forms in place of Jango’s. Obi-Wan really hadn’t formed much of an opinion on the man, but it’s disappointing he wasn’t supportive of Cody’s life choices. 

“So,” Cody goes on before Obi-Wan can respond to that. He talks a lot more when he drinks. Obi-Wan appreciates that. He likes how Cody’s voice sounds. And he likes talking to him. “Did you always want to be a teacher? You’re really suited to it, you know.” 

Obi-Wan smiles under the praise. “Essentially. When I was very young I actually wanted to run an enchanted library in the forest, the patrons of which would be fae and dryads and other magical woodland creatures. I was fascinated by that sort of thing as a child.” He gains a wistful gleam in his eye, thinking of simpler, happier times. “But yes, I pretty much have always wanted to be a teacher. What about you, what did you used to want to be when you grew up?” 

He rests his cheek in his hand, his elbow planted on the bar top, tilting his head and smiling at Cody over the rim of his wine glass. Cody just shrugs, taking another drink. 

“I don’t know. I think when I was really small I wanted to be a firefighter, but…” 

“What about later? No dreams?” 

“No, I…” Cody looks down. “It’s sort of… well, no, I— you don’t need to be saddled with this—“ 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan says softly, putting his glass down and, before his rational mind can catch up with him, places a grounding hand on the other man’s bicep. His more nurturing instincts are kicking in. “You’re not burdening me with anything. You can tell me, if you like. What is it?” 

Cody sighs, and then, tongue loosened by the alcohol, it all comes out. “When our mom died… twelve years ago, I was seventeen, she died giving birth to Boba— or right after, I wasn’t there. Something to do with bleeding and infection and— that part doesn’t matter. What matters is she was gone, and then our dad just… wasn’t all the way there, either. There were times before when he could be a little distant, sure, but then it was like having a ghost for a father, and Ninety-Nine was still overseas, and Cut had already moved out, so I was the oldest, and…” he pauses, a slight frown tugging at his brow. “It was on me to take care of all the others, and dad. Feed us, make sure the bills were paid on time, just trying to keep everyone stable after we’d lost mom. We ate a lot of plain pasta in those days.”

Obi-Wan listens to all of it, slightly shocked that Cody is actually telling him this— the man seems so private, to be sharing this he must trust Obi-Wan a lot, and that thought makes his gut twist guiltily. Of course, he already knew about their mother’s passing; Waxer and Boil had vented to him before back when they were his students. But hearing Cody’s perspective…

It explains a lot about him. 

Cody keeps talking. 

“I guess I just had to grow up overnight, and I didn’t have time to think about what I wanted to be. There was never any use in wishing for something else once I’d shouldered all that responsibility. By the time I graduated, I’d forgotten all about any dreams I might have had.”

Obi-Wan nods, and gives Cody’s arm a comforting squeeze. He tries to mitigate the matching empathetic squeeze in his own chest. “I understand,” he says. “I’m sorry, it must have been very hard, especially in the beginning.” 

Cody scoffs. “Never got any easier.” Obi-Wan gives a wry smile. 

“No, it never does.” 

A pensive look on his face, Cody finally turns his head to look at Obi-Wan again, his amber-brown eyes so deep and open while his face retains that trace of stoicism that never truly goes away, for Cody, and so easy to get completely lost in. Obi-Wan’s lungs seize up, and he quickly tires to remind himself how to breathe . “You do understand, don’t you.” 

He doesn’t say it like a question, because it’s not a question, but a revelation. The sweet revelation of realizing you are not alone in the world. 

“To an extent, yes,” Obi-Wan hesitates, not wanting to really compare his situation to Cody’s, aware that what he went through was very different from suddenly losing your mother as a teenager and then having to support not just your father, but he-still-couldn’t-count-exactly-how-many younger siblings as well, including a baby. 

But Cody’s just shared something deeply personal with him, and even though Obi-Wan struggles to bare his own emotions like he struggles with nothing else, he feels he must return the show of faith. 

“I… Qui-Gon and I hadn’t talked in almost a year when he called me to tell me he was dying,” Obi-Wan confesses, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. “If I’d known it wasn’t because he really wanted to reconnect in the time he had left, but because he needed me to inherit his burdens, I’m not sure what I would have done differently. Would I have come back at all? I probably would have, but I don’t know.”

In a moment of what he will later call drunken hysteria, he slides his hand down Cody’s arm to rest his hand on top of his on the bartop, just shy of lacing their fingers together. Cody is so warm, the skin-to-skin contact sending thrills racing along Obi-Wan’s nerves. “I dropped literally everything, left my whole life behind so I could be there for Anakin the way Qui-Gon was no longer able to be, a child I had never met or even heard of before. I’ve given everything I have to help him and be there for him, and now he— but I don’t regret it. I don’t regret him.” 

“Does he know that?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes snap up to Cody’s. “What? Of course, I’ve never even implied to him that I might regret him— or at least, I very much hope I haven’t— in fact, I’m incredibly grateful to him.” He sighs. “After Qui-Gon died, I wasn’t… doing well. Knowing I had Anakin to take care of was the only thing that would get me out of bed in the morning. He’s so precious to me, of course I—“

He cuts himself off when he starts to feel a treacherous burning in his eyes, and he looks away, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispers. “I think I’ve had too much to drink.” 

Obi-Wan goes to push his glass and the bottle away when he stops suddenly, paralyzed by the feeling of Cody turning his hand and lacing their fingers together. His breath hitches, he feels like his whole arm has been given an electric shock—

Before he can even think, Obi-Wan snatches his hand away, catching it in his other hand and holding them both close to his chest. On second thought … he grabs his glass back and drains the whole thing. 

“Sorry…” Cody whispers, so low in the din of the bar he can barely hear it, but before Obi-Wan can even think of saying anything back, a much louder voice interrupts them. 

“Kenobi!” Someone calls from behind them. Obi-Wan wastes no time in putting his face in his hands, unable to decide if he’s too drunk or still too sober for this.

“Dear lord,” he groans— borderline whimpers— just as a sun-weathered hand claps down on both his and Cody’s shoulders. “Hondo, what are you doing here?”

“This is a public establishment, is it not?” Hondo sweeps his arms out in a wide gesture, and unfortunately, the Pirate is right. (Hondo isn’t actually a Pirate, but that’s his gimmick, and he’s very committed to the image.) He reaches between them and grabs Obi-Wan’s bottle of wine and takes a huge swig from it. Obi-Wan can’t even find it within himself to complain. One has to pick their battles with Hondo.

“Now my friend, are you going to introduce me to your handsome companion or not?”

Obi-Wan heaves a sigh. Cody looks exceptionally caught off guard, like he can’t be sure if this is even happening. Poor Cody. He dodged Quinlan only to get stuck with Hondo instead. 

“Cody, this is Hondo,” he says in a tone of voice that he hopes conveys just how much he doesn’t want this to be happening. “Hondo, this is my friend, Cody. He’s also a teacher.”

“Wonderful!” Hondo rubs his hands together with a huge grin on his face, looking right at Cody. Poor Cody. Obi-Wan starts trying to devise a plan to rescue them both from this in his wine-addled brain. “What do you teach, sir Cody?” 

“Uh. Shop.” Cody blinks. 

“Oh ho ho,” Hondo leers , nudging Obi-Wan with his elbow. “A man that’s good with his hands, then!” 

“Please,” Obi-Wan groans even as his face flushes bright red. “Please shut up.”

Hondo lets out a staged wounded gasp. “Now, Kenobi,” he pouts. “Is that any way to talk to your dear old friend?” 

“We’re not friends,” Obi-Wan says. He turns to Cody and repeats, “we are not friends.” 

Cody just blinks at them both, mouth just slightly ajar. Obi-Wan promptly stops looking at his mouth. 

“We are best friends!” Hondo declares, then says to Cody, “Kenobi and I go way back, you know!” 

That part, at least, is true, but still, Obi-Wan wishes this wasn’t happening to him. This— whatever had just happened between him and Cody— he doesn’t even know— he might be too drunk to think right now— he’s not even begun to process— and now Hondo inserting himself into the equation so brusquely and randomly, the emotional whiplash is… Obi-Wan can’t fucking deal with this. 

“We’re not best friends. We’re not friends period. We are long term acquaintances at best .” He snaps, and Hondo raises his hands in a placating gesture. 

“Well, no need to sound so venomous,” he says. “But, alas, you are right. We are not friends.”

“Thank you,”

A pause. Obi-Wan savours the silence while it lasts. He chances an apologetic look at Cody. Cody is looking down at his drink. 

Then, Hondo speaks again. “We are lovers !”

“NO!” Obi-Wan turns around and slaps the infuriating man on the shoulder. “No! Get out of here you pest of a man, go!”

Hondo just laughs and pushes Obi-Wan’s hands away. “Fine, fine, I will leave. But first, I wanted to give you this!” He fishes from his coat some kind of large coupon. “We have a new special on! Bring the kid, young Anakin, I’m sure he’ll love it! How old is he now?” 

Obi-Wan looks down at the coupon/flyer. It’s for the children’s menu. “Seventeen.” 

Hondo's eyes widen. “Wh— sev— seriously? Wow, they grow up so fast. Anyways, I will go now as you wish, and leave you gentlemen to your date.”

Then he bows out and swans off, and Obi-Wan spins his stool around to shout, “This is not a date!” 

He turns back around and half-slumps against the bartop. “I am so sorry about him.”

Cody is still looking down into his glass. “It’s fine. He sure seems like… a real character.” 

Obi-Wan snorts. “That’s one way of putting it.” He dumps the rest of the wine from the bottle into his glass. “Uhm. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” Cody says again. “Uh, did you know, that, your accent changes when you drink?” 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan drags a tired hand down his face, dislodging his glasses. He does know that, actually. His Scottish accent comes out a lot more when he drinks. He wishes it wouldn’t. “You noticed?” 

“Yeah, I mean. There’s nothing wrong with it. I like it, actually.” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything. 

“Sorry.” Cody says. 

“It’s fine,” Obi-Wan says. There’s silence once more. It’s painfully awkward. It’s so, so bad. He wishes the ground would just swallow him whole and he could be blasted into oblivion. He finishes the last dregs of his drink. Cody does the same. 

“It’s getting late.” 

“Yes.” 

“We should probably head out.” 

“Yes, we should.” 

They pay their tabs. Cody stands from his seat, keeping one hand on the bar for balance. Obi-Wan also goes to stand, but as soon as his feet touch the floor and he’s fully vertical the floor swoops beneath him and his vision swims, accosted by vertigo. For a second he can’t tell where is up and where is down, and wow the floor is magically getting closer— but then suddenly it all stops, and there are strong, warm arms wrapped around his middle and a strong, warm torso pressed against his side, keeping him upright. Cody. 

Obi-Wan thinks he might start hyperventilating. He might have already started hyperventilating. He struggles to right himself and pulls away from Cody’s secure hold as quickly as he dares. “Sorry, sorry, I— I’m sorry.” 

And this time, Obi-Wan is not above admitting he is running away. He dashes out of the bar, ignoring Cody calling his name, hails a cab, and gets the hell out of there. 

That leaves Cody standing at the bar, staring at the spot where Obi-Wan just was, his brain struggling to catch up. “What… the hell just happened.” He mutters to himself. 

What it looked like was Obi-Wan had too much to drink, lost his balance when he tried to stand, Cody caught him, and then Obi-Wan had some sort of panic attack and bolted. 

But when he says ‘what the hell just happened’ he is referring to not just that last bizarre and, frankly, concerning interaction, but also pretty much the entire evening. 

Obi-Wan is just… there’s just so much. Every time Cody thinks he’s starting to actually figure the older man out, there’s something new, some new curveball that Cody has to figure out what to do with. He’s starting to think it’s impossible to actually, truly know Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Maybe it’s impossible. But Fetts are famously stubborn. And maybe Obi-Wan is a mystery still, but Cody knows enough to know that he wants to know more. 

And maybe hold his hand, just a little bit. Except Obi-Wan freaked out when he tried to do that, so maybe not. 

He sort of feels like there’s a cartoon raincloud hovering above him. Not that he expected anything to happen— he and Obi-Wan have for years been moving slowly towards each other like tectonic plates, and there was zero expectation to speed up now. But still, the other man had put so much emphasis on them being just friends, this was not a date… but even then Cody can’t stop thinking about how Obi-Wan blushed , how he said he thought that Cody was… wonderful. That was the word he used. Wonderful. 

Maybe Obi-Wan just doesn’t see the thing forming at a snail’s pace between them. Maybe it’s something he’s not ready to see. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe, so many unknowns. Why did he have to fall for a man that’s unknowable?

Cody looks down at the seat Obi-Wan had occupied and sees that in his panic, he had left his blazer behind. Cody picks it up, carefully as if it’s fragile. He feels the fabric in between his fingertips, the soft cotton and the silky lining. He grips it more firmly, holding it closer to his chest. This thing that belongs to Obi-Wan. Resists the urge to bury his face in it. He’s drunk, but not that drunk. 

This belongs to Obi-Wan. He’ll make sure to bring it to him on Monday. 

He thinks about Obi-Wan as he calls for an Uber, about how he hasn’t achieved his dream, how he didn’t get what he wanted but is still grateful for what he was given. About what he had sacrificed in the name of kindness. He hides it well, but he had seemed so sad when he’d talked about it. 

Cody just wants things to be nice for him. 

Chapter Text

That cool Monday morning finds Ahsoka fidgeting at her desk in geography. They’re about to start an in-class worksheet, working in pairs, and the teacher is about to pull names out of a hat. From across the classroom, she catches Barriss’ eye and grins and waves. Barriss smiles and waves back, though with much more subtlety. 

She hopes she and Barriss get paired together. Barriss is really cool. Ahsoka thinks that would be really cool. 

The teacher starts calling out names, working slowly through the class list. Eventually, 

“Barriss Offee and…” Ahsoka holds her breath as the teacher reaches into the hat for the second name. “Erin Jamison.” 

Ahsoka sighs, and looks back over at Barriss. Barriss shrugs with an apologetic look. Ahsoka gives a small smile back, even though she’s disappointed she’s not paired with her friend. 

“Ahsoka Tano and…” She perks back up when her name is called, curious about who her partner is going to be. “Lux Bonteri.” 

She looks around the room for where Lux sits, and spots him a couple of rows over, already looking at her and smiling. Ahsoka smiles and waves back. She’s aware of Lux Bonteri, they haven’t really talked much, but he seems nice. And he’s pretty smart, so between the two of them they should get a pretty good grade on this assignment. 

The teacher finishes reading off the pairs and everyone starts moving, shifting desks to sit next to their partners and start working on the project. Lux comes over with his binder, and Ahsoka shifts her things around to make room for him on the desk. 

“Hi,” she says. 

“Hi!” Lux sits backwards in the seat in front of her. He’s wearing a tie. Ahsoka turns her head to look at Barriss on the other side of the room, talking to her own partner. “What did you think of the documentary?” 

“What?”

“What did you think of the documentary?” Lux repeats. They just finished watching a documentary about the meat industry, and the worksheet is all questions about the movie. Ahsoka shrugs. 

“I don’t know, I think it was more graphic than it needed to be and was going for more shock factor than actual education. And they really didn’t talk at all about how the people who work in these slaughterhouses are almost all poor, exploited immigrants, and the effect that environment has on them, which I think is the most important problem.”

“It didn’t make you want to rethink eating meat?” 

“No?” 

Lux blinks. “Seriously? Why not?” 

“The treatment of the animals is inhumane but that doesn’t mean that just eating meat is, like, also inherently inhumane. If you don’t like mainstream brand meat made in slaughterhouses and factories, then buy it from local farmers instead. The real issue isn’t just eating meat, it’s capitalism .” 

Lux gives her a weird, half smiling half confused look. “Capitalism is an economic system , it doesn’t have anything to do with meat. And the movie was about the meat industry, not capitalism.” He says like he’s patiently explaining something to a third grader. Ahsoka just stares at him. Mentally takes back what she thought earlier about being smart. 

She and Lux are going to be putting down pretty different answers on this handout, that’s for sure. Ahsoka makes a mental reminder to ask Rex about capitalism and the food industry later and then copy paste whatever he says and send it to Lux. With the sources, because Rex always has sources. It’s great, she’s learning so much. 

After class ends, Ahsoka times packing her things up very carefully so she can be walking out the door at the same time as Barriss. “Hey!” She says as they start to walk down the hallway together. “Are you doing anything on Halloween?” 

“Usually my aunt and I stay in and watch a scary movie,” Barriss says. “Why?” 

“Oh.” Ahsoka fiddles with one of her braids. She should probably take these out soon, now that she thinks about it. “I was just wondering because I’m going to a party with my brother and his friends and I wanted to know if you maybe might want to come too?” 

“A party…” Barriss pinches her bottom lip, visibly thinking. “Would there be alcohol there?”

“Well I mean. It’s a cheerleader party, so probably.” 

“Hm. Yeah, I don’t think I’d be able to go, sorry Ahsoka.” 

Ahsoka looks down at her shoes, disappointment pooling in her gut. “It’s okay,” she says. “Just thought it would be nice to have someone my own age to hang out with, too.” 

Just then a third voice pops up on her other side, and Ahsoka startles. “I’ll go with you, Ahsoka.” It’s Lux, smiling at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Barriss give Lux a flat look that goes unnoticed. 

“Uh, thanks, Lux, but that’s okay, you don’t have to.” 

“Well, you’re talking about the party at Brianna West’s house, right?” 

Ahsoka nods. 

“I’m going to that party, too. So maybe I’ll see you there, anyway?” 

“I guess, sure,” Ahsoka shrugs, and Lux grins at her again and walks away. She and Barriss watch him go. 

“That guy is weird,” Barriss says. 

“He’s not so bad,” Ahsoka says. “Boys are just kind of like that, I think.” 

“Well boys are weird.” They get to a stairwell, where Barriss has to go up for math and Ahsoka has to go down for gym, so they wave goodbye and go their separate ways. 

Today, Obi-Wan elects to take his lunch in his classroom, with the door closed and all, alone. For no particular reason. His seeking solitude has absolutely nothing to do with the bitter taste of humiliation lingering under his tongue, and stuck like tar in his airways. But he’s not one to wallow, in fact, he’s been referred to as a workaholic many times before, so he sits at his computer and drafts emails in an attempt to distract himself from the memories of that weekend. Why oh why can’t he be a blackout drunk? Why must he remember everything? That whole fiasco was just…

Actually, he had been having a very nice time up until the very end. Just sitting and talking with Cody over drinks for an evening, sharing laughs and stories, getting to know him better— even though there are some things Obi-Wan wishes he hadn’t aired, he’d had a good time. It had been perfect until Hondo— no, don't shift the blame onto Hondo, even though he didn’t help. Until Obi-Wan had reacted badly to Cody trying to hold his hand. 

He can’t stop thinking about it. He can remember the feel of every callous on Cody’s palm, how their hands fit together— 

Obi-Wan resists to urge to bang his head on his desk. He stopped typing several minutes ago. He needs to stop this. This needs to stop now.

Why did Cody try to hold his hand?? That’s the part Obi-Wan genuinely can’t wrap his head around. He must have been trying to comfort him, as Obi-Wan had tried to comfort Cody. If only he hadn’t reacted like he did. He’ll have to explain—

A knock on his door. Obi-Wan sighs. It’s probably a student needing help with their essay, he has said his door is open for that sort of thing. He gets up and goes to open it. 

It’s not a student. Cody is standing in the now-open doorway, a folded piece of fabric in his hands. Obi-Wan coughs awkwardly. 

“Cody! How are you?” He says, hoping he doesn’t seem too freaked out. 

“Fine, thanks,” Cody says, and holds out the fabric bundle. “You left your blazer at the bar on Saturday.” 

“Oh, thank you,” Obi-Wan takes the offered article of clothing. “This is one of my favourites. I…” He glances around at the students sitting on the floor under their lockers, having their lunch, then back up at Cody. “Here, why don’t you come inside? There’s something I would like to discuss with you.” 

Cody looks surprised. “Uh, sure,” he says, stepping into the classroom when Obi-Wan moves aside. 

Obi-Wan closes the door behind them. He takes a deep breath. “I deeply, deeply apologize for how I behaved on Saturday, especially in how I, well, made my exit.” He says, “it was incredibly rude, and I do hope I can make it up to you somehow.” 

Leaning back against a desk, hands in his pockets, Cody seems to hesitate. “I mean,” he eventually says, “I really wasn’t offended as much as I was worried about you. You looked like you were having some sort of panic attack.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan looks down. That’s not what he expected. “Well, I’m fine now, thank you for your concern. All it was is that occasionally, unexpected physical contact is… weird, for me, and I was intoxicated and had been in a down mood as of late, not exactly a winning combination. So I reacted poorly when you were just trying to help, and for that I apologize.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Cody says. “Is everything alright, though?” 

“Yes, yes everything is just fine,” Obi-Wan quickly replies. Probably too quickly, because Cody looks doubtful. “Perfectly fine. No need to worry.” 

“Right.” Cody nods, then does that little half smile of his. “Well, if you want to make it up, then I guess we’ll just have to go out again sometime— maybe something with less booze?” 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan hadn’t expected Cody to want a repeat performance at all, but he’s glad. “Of course. Somewhere there won’t be any big mouthed interrupters.” 

Cody chuckles. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

A moment of somewhat awkward silence passes between them, and just as Cody looks like he's about to say something else, Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” Obi-Wan goes back to his desk, hanging the blazer over the back of his chair. “I’m sure you have places to be and things to do.” 

“Uh, right. Yeah.” Cody blinks, then seems to shake himself and stands up straight again. He goes over to the door, and right as he’s reaching for the doorknob, he pauses, looks over his shoulder and says, “See you around, Obi-Wan.” 

Then he’s gone and closing the door behind him, leaving Obi-Wan sitting shock still alone in his classroom, his heart pounding. That’s the second time now that Cody has called him his given name, and it's had the exact same thrilling effect as before. 

Obi-Wan groans and gives in to putting his head down on the desk. 

He is so, so fucked. 

When Anakin gets home from school— late, because he, Ahsoka, and the guys went to the circle k for snacks and slushies after class— Obi-Wan is sitting at the kitchen table like he was waiting for them. For a second a spark of nerves light up in his chest, but Obi-Wan is smiling, and that’s when Anakin sees the small pile of envelopes sitting on the table. 

“No way,” he says, dropping his bag on the ground and stepping over to the table. “Already? All at once? Oh my god, I’m nervous.” 

“What is it?” Ahsoka toes her shoes off and comes over to look over his shoulder.

“Uni letters,” Obi-Wan takes a sip of tea from the cup on the coaster in front of him. “Go on, Ani, open them.”

Anakin’s hands shake as he grabs the letter opener from the coffee table. He first reaches for the letter from MIT, but hesitates before his fingers touch the envelope. That’s his dream school… it’s tempting to know now , but he decides to save that one for last. Instead he grabs a different envelope at random, the letter from UC Berkeley. The letter opener tears through the top of the envelope, revealing the perfectly innocuous folder paper within. 

This is so stressful. What are the fucking odds that the letters from all the schools he applied to would all come on the same day? 

Oh fuck, what if literally all of them reject me, what the hell am I going to do?

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan lean in in anticipation as he takes the letter out of the envelope and blindly unfolds it. Slowly he peels his eyes open, and reads it. 

“I got in,” he breathes as his eyes pass over the first line. “I got in!” 

“Yes!” His family cheers, and he puts the letter down on the table with jittery fingers. “Okay, next one. Oh my god this is fucking stressful.” 

He sees Obi-Wan raise an eyebrow at him for the language, but his guardian is still smiling behind his hand, and he reaches for the next envelope, the letter from Georgia Tech. He opens this one a little quicker now that he’s got the momentum going, both eager for and dreading the contents. 

“I got into this one, too!” Anakin blinks, quickly scanning the letter again, making sure he read it right, but he did read it right— that’s two, now. 

Next one. Caltech. This is another one he was really hoping for— now, his fingers aren’t just shaking, but he feels like this left hand is going numb, the nerve endings in his fingertips tingling. He tears the letter open, quickly reading over the first few lines— and stops. 

“What does this one say?” Obi-Wan gently asks. 

“This one says no.”

“Oh.” Ahsoka pats his arm. “Well, two yesses and one no is still pretty good, right?” 

It is, despite the curling disappointment. And there are still two unopened letters. Anakin reaches for the one from Stanford— that’s where Padmé goes. He’s also pretty sure this one has the lowest acceptance rate of any of the schools he applied to. Oh, geez... He opens this one slower. 

“Oh my god.” He whispers. 

“What?”

“I got in,” Anakin says, already carefully placing the letter down on the table. There’s only one letter left— MIT. Slowly, he reaches for it. 

He opens this one carefully, trying to tear the envelope as little as possible. It’s completely silent except for the rustling of paper, everyone in the room holding their breath. They know how important this one is. 

He hesitates right as he’s about to unfold the letter. “I— I can’t do it.” Anakin shoves it at Obi-Wan, who startles but takes it. “Here, you read it.” 

Obi-Wan adjusts his glasses and unfolds the letter. His face betrays nothing as he scans it. Anakin tries to resist biting his nails but fails. Then, Obi-Wan lowers the letter and looks right at him over the rim of his glasses. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, his poker face perfectly intact. 

“Yes?” Anakin can feel his heart pounding in his throat. 

A smile spreads across Obi-wan’s face and he turns the paper around to show him. “It’s a yes.” 

All the air wooshes out of his lungs and he brings his hands up to his face, relief flooding his veins. “Oh my god, I got in?” Anakin whispers. “I got in!”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan stands from his chair and grabs Anakin in a hug. Anakin immediately returns it, clinging tightly to Obi-Wan’s torso, wide eyed. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Really?” He blinks. 

“Yes!”

Ahsoka joins in on the group hug, plastering herself to Anakin’s back. “Yay!” She cheers. 

He can hardly believe it. He looks down over Obi-Wan’s head at the letter left open on the table. He can see the ‘ we are pleased to… ’ at the top of it. He emerges from the group hug and picks up the letter, and looks at the other now-opened letters piled on the table.

“You’ll have some time to consider the pros and cons of each offer,” Obi-Wan says, “Think about it as much as you need to. This is a pivotal moment of your life--” 

“I need to go tell Padmé!” Anakin cuts him off and runs into his room before Obi-Wan can even finish the sentence, stack of letters in hand. He closes his door mostly out of habit, pulls his phone from his back pocket and immediately calls Padmé on facetime.

It continues to ring, and Anakin looks down at his letters again. He starts to read them more thoroughly. 

They’re pretty much the same, he guesses, pretty standard acceptance letters. There aren’t much more details about enrolment or tuition or anything like that, because these are just offers. He’s congratulated on academics and achievements. The one from Stanford even specifically mentions his essay, which Anakin knew was a good one when he wrote it— universities love a good sob story. He’s reminded to submit his enrolment card by May, and that his enrolment hinges on his continued academic success throughout the rest of the year. 

Eventually the call times out, and Anakin frowns and tries again. Padmé wouldn’t have any classes right now, so he can’t think of why she might not be picking up. 

The call times out. He tries again. This time before it can ring too long, it stops and he gets a text from Padmé. 

> Sorry Ani, I'm in the library, totally swamped with assignments, can’t FT right now. What is it?

Anakin frowns. If she’s busy then he gets that, but she doesn’t have to sound so dismissive, he thinks. He texts back, 

Jsut wanted to tell you i gotmy accetpamce letters today <

Got into all of them cept caltech <

Quickly, Padmé responds, 

> OMG that’s great Ani! Congratulations! I knew you could do it! Too bad about caltech, but you still have lots of great options 🥰 I’ll call you later, okay? Love you 💞

Anakin texts back ‘ love you too’ , and it gets marked as read. He sighs and tosses his phone aside, lying back on his bed and sifting through his letters again. 

He knows what he wants . But some of the things he wants, if he gets them, it would automatically mean he wouldn’t get the other things he wants. And he doesn’t know what he wants more . 

He’ll need to really think about this. 

Honestly, in the end, it’ll probably all come down to the money. 

Chapter Text

Halloween. Clear night, full moon, warm air, cool breeze. It’s ideal trick-or-treating weather, but these kids are a little too old for that— they’re getting ready to go to a party.

Ahsoka is in the bathroom putting the finishing touches on her zombie makeup with Obi-Wan’s help. Anakin is pulling on the statement piece of his pirate costume, a hook that he made himself in shop and painted in the art room during lunch. It fits right on over the sleeve protecting his stump from chafing, and it secures with velcro. He’s extremely proud of it. It goes well with his pirate hat from the dollar store. His actual hand, he puts in a bag to leave in the car if he needs it. 

Rex sits on the couch, already fully in his costume— though to be fair, his costume is the simplest (to get in and out of) out of all of theirs. He’s a knight, sort of. He’s got on a chainmail shirt, except there’s no sleeves on it, mostly because he ran out of time to do sleeves and also because he sort of wants to show off his arms, and a plastic sword tucked into his belt. 

Yes, he made the chainmail himself. It took fucking forever. But if anyone asks, he’s going to tell them he bought it online. 

Ahsoka comes out of the bathroom finally, looking very much like the living dead, and very excited about it. Obi-Wan is also dressed up, though he’s not going to the same party they are, obviously. 

“What are your Halloween plans, Mr. Kenobi?” Rex asks. 

Obi-Wan adjusts his gold shirt that Rex recognizes as being a Star Trek thing. “I’ll likely be handing out candy for most of the evening,” he says. 

“Will you save some for us?” Anakin asks. 

“If there’s any left by the time you get home, then sure. You kids have fun now, and don’t get into too much trouble!”

Costumes on, the teens shuffle out the door, excited for the party— or at least, Ahsoka is excited. She’s never been to a high school party before. Anakin has assured her that so long as she likes dancing and watching people do dumb shit while drunk, then she’ll have a blast. Ahsoka fully expects to have a blast. 

Anakin is also a little excited, but mostly he just misses Padmé. This is the first year they haven’t done a couples costume, since she’s on the other side of the country and all that, and gone to Halloween together. Maybe they can do that again next year, though. 

Maybe. 

Rex, on the other hand, isn’t excited at all. He really doesn’t like huge parties. He’s an introvert, he’d rather stay in with some friends and have a nice, quiet time— or at least as quiet a time as can be had with his friends. All the noise, and the people moving and dancing and jumping and bumping into each other, and the sweat, and the smell of booze, it’s really not his thing. But he’s The Popular Guy, the star quarterback, the football hero, and so everyone expects him to be at all the big crazy parties, so… he goes along with it. At least this way, he doesn’t have to stress about Anakin doing anything illegal and or likely to result in bodily harm, because even if Anakin does do something like that, Rex will be there to drag him home afterwards. 

At least Anakin is the designated driver this time, and he’ll have Ahsoka to watch over, so hopefully things won’t get too wild and life changing. Hopefully. Rex is probably a fool for hoping. 

It’s dark outside when they pull up to Brianna’s Mom’s House, and changing coloured lights in the windows light up the front yard. Anakin parks Artoo on the street, and they can hear the music already blasting inside. Halloween decorations cover the yard and the two storey house, and inside has probably been made just as spooky. The three of them go up the path to the front door, passing by a couple of people already drunk and sprawled on the grass. Rex presses the doorbell, and barely seconds pass before the door is opened by the hostess herself. 

“Hi guys!” Brianna grins, yelling to be heard over Thriller blasting from inside. She’s in a cheerleading uniform but not her actual one— it’s black, with white trim and a skull on the chest. Her blonde hair is all teased up and even more voluminous than usual. “Rex, you made it!” 

She steps aside to let them all in. 

“Hey Bri,” Rex says. “What’s your costume?” 

“I’m Brittnay Matthews, mercenary cheerleader!” Brianna beams, hands on her hips. “I made it myself, look!” She does a twirl and her short pleated skirt circles out and up, revealing even more leg and then some. Ahsoka looks away. 

The door closes behind them, and the (mercenary) cheerleader ushers them further into the house. There are people milling around in the hallway and hovering in doorways, drinks in hand, laughing and talking and bobbing along to the beat that shakes the house. “Drinks are in the kitchen, dance floor’s in the living room, and there’s a haunted house in the basement. The party ends at baby you’re a haunted house, if you’re still here after baby you’re a haunted house then we’ll chase you out with a broom. Have fun, guys!”

Then the doorbell rings again, and Brianna bounces back over to answer it, leaving the trio on their own in the hallway. The three of them vacate the hallway and make their way into the kitchen, where the music is a little more muffled and only small pockets of people linger. 

“Alright, let’s see what they’ve got here,” Anakin pulls the fridge door open with his hook hand and rummages around inside. “Aha, perfect!” 

He tosses Rex a can of beer over his shoulder, who catches it effortlessly, grabs one for himself, and then turns around and hands Ahsoka her drink. 

“A juice box?” She says incredulously, looking down at the box of fruit punch that had been deposited into her hands. “Hey, how come you get to drink but I don’t get to drink!” 

“Because you’re a baby and I’m a delinquent, what’s not clicking Snips?”

Ahsoka mock-glares at him, but still takes the straw out of its plastic and punches it into the juice box. Free juice is free juice. Anakin opens his beer and starts chugging the whole thing until it’s empty, then crushes the can against his forehead for no reason. Rex just rolls his eyes at him. He knows from experience that Anakin can have one whole beer now and still be fine to drive at the end of the night, so long as he eats enough between now and then. Dumbass just doesn’t know how to pace himself. 

“You stick close to me, okay Snips?” He says, tossing his flattened can into a nearby recycling bin. “Come on, I wanna go see if anyone’s set up beer pong!”

Then he grabs his sister by the elbow and they both go dashing off into the rest of the house, leaving Rex just standing there in the kitchen, blinking. “Wh—“ he starts, but shuts his mouth before even getting the first word out, knowing there’s no point. Skywalker and Tano have got zero attention span between the two of them and they’re already long gone. He sighs and cracks open his own beer, and takes a drink. “Typical.”

He decides to look around for people that he knows. His cousins, he knows, are also coming to this party, maybe they’re already there. Maneuvering around and through the steadily thickening crowd, Rex makes his way to the living room, where the dance floor is. The music is way louder in here, overpowering pretty much every other sound. Rex can barely even hear his own thoughts over the sound of Kesha’s Cannibal . And it’s packed, people in all sorts of costumes dancing around. He sees a ballerina and a banana, a couple of girls in short dresses and assorted animal ears on headbands, and at least one sheet ghost. There’s a vampire, a mummy, a mad scientist and a Marty Mcfly. There’s a sexy Doctor Phil. He sees a couple Harley Quinns, a Flash, and a Spider-Man. 

Turns out his cousins are already there. He spots Kix, dressed as James Pokémon, in the corner, talking to somebody in a nurse costume— it looks pretty Friendly with a capital F, so Rex won’t interrupt. Jesse in his Jesse Pokémon getup is off to the side with some of the other guys on the team, and Hardcase (who is barely recognizable in a wig and a borrowed cheer uniform from their school that he barely fits into) is on the dance floor with Keasha. He’s about to go over to Jesse and the guys when someone all but crashes into his side and he jolts, just barely keeping from spilling his beer. “Whoa, are you okay?” He grabs the person’s arm to steady them instinctively, but freezes when he sees who it actually is. 

Key stands up straight and fixes his hair with a sheepish smile. Rex instantly jerks his hand away and takes a step back, bumps into someone behind him, mumbles an apology, and steps forward again, unfortunately, right back into Key’s space. “Uh,” The split-second sense memory of his own fingers wrapped around Key’s bare arm digs its heels into the very forefront of his mind. He chances looking down just to make sure the flesh of his palm hasn’t started melting off the bone. 

“Sorry,” Key says even though he doesn’t really look that sorry. Rex gulps. It’s hard to tell what Key is supposed to be— he’s wearing an eclectic assortment of layers, including a black vest over a band t-shirt and shorts on top of sweatpants that have been pushed up past his knees, and seems to have straightened his hair. (Rex thinks it looks better wavy). “I like your costume!” 

“What?” Rex shouts back. The song switches to Rihanna’s Disturbia . The bass is deafening.

“I said I like your costume!” Key cups his hands around his mouth and shouts. Being a cheerleader, he’s an exceptionally good shouter. 

“Oh, thanks!” Rex picks at the chainmail hanging off his torso. “What are you dressed as?”

“What?”

“I said, what are you dressed as!”

“Oh, I’m Ted! From Bill and Ted!” Key pinches the hem of Rex’s armour and pulls him towards the doorway where the music isn’t as overpowering. Even so, they still have to raise their voices. “People tell me sometimes I look like young Keanu Reeves, so I dressed up as one of his most iconic roles! But it’s sort of a pair costume, and I have no Bill! A Ted without a Bill, isn’t it sad!” 

Rex takes another drink of his beer mostly just so he can delay having to say anything. The music is still loud, so he mostly just squints at Key’s mouth and tries to guess what the words that he’s saying are. Key playfully punches his bicep. 

“Maybe you could be my Bill!” The cheerleader grins. “The heights would be switched, but you’ve got the blonde hair, we could just stick you in a crop top and call it a day!” 

“Uh,” Rex’s brain struggles to catch up with what’s happening.

“But it’s fine, I like you just like this, Mr. Big Muscles Football Hero,” Key smirks and pokes his bare arm, and Rex flushes and coughs into his beer. 

“Uh, thanks,” Rex croaks. “Y-you look good, too!”

Key beams, and Rex is thankful that red doesn’t show as much on his brown skin, because he feels his face get hotter, and it’s not just because it’s warm in there. Why is he so bad at this? Why did Anakin abandon him in the kitchen, that asshole, he’s the one with social skills!

Then the song changes again, and Key gasps. “Oh I love this song!” He yells and drags Rex back into the thick of the dance floor. “Come dance with me!”

The song is one that Rex actually does remember from when he was younger, but had forgotten about until now. It’s not really a Halloween song, more of a regular dancing song, but that’s probably fine. 

Key is clearly much more at home on the dance floor than Rex is, bouncing along to the beat and tossing his hair with a huge smile on his face. Rex is too awkward for this, but Key doesn’t seem to mind, mouthing along to the words blasting from the speakers. 

You cast a spell on me spell on me, you hit me like the sky fell on me fell on me, and I decided you look well on me well on me, so let’s go somewhere no one else can see you and me,

Rex tries to divide his attention between figuring out how to move his own feet and just watching Key dance. But Key’s energy is somehow infectious, and he starts to get the hang of it. It’s… actually kind of fun. 

Turn the lights out now, now I’ll take you by the hand, hand you another drink, drink it if you can, can you spend a little time, time is slipping away, away from us so stay, stay with me I can make, make you glad you came

More of their friends come over to join them in the middle of the dance floor. Hardcase bumps him with his hip, and Rex laughs even as the crowd gets tighter. 

Well over an hour passes, finding Anakin and Ahsoka scouring the house for snacks. They end up back in the kitchen, where they find a huge mostly empty bowl of assorted Halloween candy, bags of popcorn, and mostly untouched candy corn. Anakin, because he’s a godless heathen, takes a handful of candy corn and shoves it in his mouth. Ahsoka pretends to gag, and Anakin grins around the mouthful. 

Ahsoka is about to roast him about it when someone speaks up from behind her. “Hey Ahsoka! Cool costume!” 

She turns around to see none other than Lux Bonteri himself, in a store bought vampire costume and a half-empty red solo cup in his hand. He smiles around his set of costume fangs. 

“Oh hey Lux,” Ahsoka says, and next to her, a mischievous smile stretches across Anakin’s face. 

“Who’s your friend, Snips?” He grins, but Ahsoka can’t for the life of her guess why.

“Uh, this is Lux, he’s in my geography class. Lux, this is my older brother Anakin.” 

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Lux goes to shake Anakin’s hand, who happily puts his hook hand in Lux’s. Lux looks down at not feeling a hand and his expression briefly morphs into one of mortification. Ahsoka snickers. But Lux recovers quickly, and turns back to Ahsoka. 

“Ahsoka, I’m glad we ran into each other, I was worried I’d missed you,” he says. Ahsoka just smiles and nods.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too,” she says. In all honesty, she’d forgotten that Lux said he would be here. Anakin still has that smile on his face.

“Oh, I see what’s going on here,” the older teen smirks. “Well don’t let me get in the way, I’m gonna go see what Rex is up to, you kids have fun, I’ll check in with ya later, Snips!” 

“Skyguy wait--” 

Anakin ducks out of the kitchen, leaving Ahsoka alone with Lux Bonteri, the guy who says things like ‘but capitalism breeds innovation’ with his whole chest. She sighs. Lux looks very pleased with himself.

“I was gonna go check out that haunted house in the basement, if you want to come with me?” He says. Ahsoka shrugs. Eh, might as well.

“Sure.”

The two freshmen go down to the basement, the creaky stairs to which are liberally adorned with fake cobwebs. The lights are dimmed and have red covers over them, and the hosts of the party seem to have taken advantage of the fact that the basement is unfinished, pipes and support beams and concrete and insulation all exposed where walls would be. It’s completely packed with halloween decorations, and there’s tape on the concrete floor directing them where to go. There doesn’t seem to be anyone down there. It’s quiet, the music and voices from upstairs barely audible.

“I hope we don’t find anyone just making out down here,” Ahsoka says, and starts walking along the taped path. Lux follows.

“Haha, yeah,” the boy says behind her, and Ahsoka feels him grab her hand. It’s kind of weird, because Ahsoka has never really held hands with a boy before, and didn’t really think tonight would be the night for it, but she lets it happen, thinking Lux is probably just creeped out. It is creepier down here than she expected it to be.

“So, you and your brother don’t really look alike, huh?” Lux speaks up from behind her, and Ahsoka shoots him a bemused raised eyebrow over her shoulder.

“We’re adopted,” she says. Technically, she’s not fully adopted (yet) but the distinction is too much of a bother to bother making. Lux makes an ‘ ohh ’ noise and nods.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. You guys are Mr. Kenobi’s kids, right? Neither of you really look like him either, though.” 

“All three of us are adopted, dummy,” Ahsoka kind of laughs and shakes her head. Barriss was right, boys are weird.

They walk through the ‘haunted house’ together until they reach the end of this path, where they’re meant to do a U-turn to go down another path back to the stairs. Ahsoka goes to keep following the tape, but a tug on her arm stops her. 

“Let’s go this way,” Lux is trying to pull her towards one of the dark corners of the basement that hasn’t been as decorated. Ahsoka gives him a flat look. 

“This isn’t a choose your own adventure, Lux,” She says. “Le’s just go where we’re supposed to.” Lux tugs on her arm again.

“Come on, I wanna check it out,” he insists.

“No,” Ahsoka is about to pull her hand out of Lux’s and just go when suddenly Lux's grip tightens.

He pulls her into a corner and kisses her.

Ahsoka reacts first, thinks second. She jerks back and before she even realizes she’s doing it her arm pulls back and her fist connects hard with Lux’s jaw. 

Lux falls back on his ass, crashing into the decorations behind him. “What the fuck!” Ahsoka yells, consciously uncurling her fist. It’s hard-- her knuckles already hurt like hell, and her fingers are weirdly stiff. Her hands are shaking. Lux just groans from where he landed on the floor, his face already looking swollen. There’s some of her black lipstick smeared around his mouth.

She thinks she’s going to be sick. Ahsoka turns and runs out of the basement, taking the stairs up three at a time and upon reaching the ground floor, immediately finds and throws herself into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Ahsoka leans forward against the door, heart pounding in her throat. She turns and looks down at her hand. Her knuckles are already bruised, and the thin skin of one of them is split, a drop of blood sliding down between her fingers. Her whole hand throbs painfully. Ahsoka stumbles over to the sink and turns it on, sticking her cut hand under the warm running water to clean it.

She looks up and startles when she sees her reflection in the mirror, eyes wide, for some reason surprised that her reflection is unchanged from how it was a couple hours ago. She doesn’t know why, but she sort of expected to look totally different, unrecognizable. But she looks in the mirror and knows her face, and it’s weird. 

Anakin is filling up a cup with tap water and just starting to chug it when he senses a presence materialize behind him. He half turns, thinking someone wants at the sink, but when he sees Ahsoka standing right at his elbow, hair in her face like the fucking girl from the ring, Anakin jumps and accidentally splashes himself with his water.

“Holy shit Ahsoka, you scared me, damn!” He says, but when he sees the look on her face, he stops and frowns. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“I wanna go home,” Ahsoka says, looking off into middle distance. Her voice sounds tight, like he was crying, or is about to. 

“What, now? Are you okay? Did something happen?” Anakin puts his cup down.Ahsoka grabs his sleeve. Her knuckles look busted up, and immediately his concern levels skyrocket. 

“Wanna go home,” she repeats, and Anakin shakily nods. 

“Uh, yeah, okay, uh,” He digs through his pockets and pulls out his keys, handing them to Ahsoka. “Here, I’ll go let Rex know we’re leaving so he doesn’t freak out when he can’t find us, and I’ll meet you in the car, okay?” 

Ahsoka nods, still not looking up, takes the keys and turns and walks out of the kitchen. As soon as she’s out of sight he heaves a sigh and drags his flesh hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back from his face. He saw Rex tearing it up on the dance floor earlier-- definitely a surprise, but he spotted his best friend getting progressively more chest-to-chest with Key, which was a personal victory moment for Anakin, if Rex is managing to say more than five words at once to him. 

He leaves the kitchen to go across the hall towards the living room, but almost as if summoned by his thoughts, he nearly bumps into Rex coming the other way in the doorway. “Hey Rex, what’s up!” He says. Rex shrugs. The football player looks a little dazed, face flushed and sweaty.

“I’m just going to get another beer,” Rex says. “What’s up with you?”

Anakin glances at the front door. “I’m taking Ahsoka home, actually,” he frowns. “She seems really upset and her knuckles are all busted up for some reason-- I have no idea what happened but something definitely happened.”

“Oh, shit,” Rex blinks, coming out of the clouds a little bit. “Damn, I hope she’s alright. Yeah, you guys head out, and I’ll see you Monday, yeah?”

Anakin nods and claps Rex twice on the shoulder. “Yah, see ya,” He says, already turning towards the front door and walking out. 

On the other side of the street, the light is on in their parked car. Anakin goes and gets in the driver’s seat, and pulls the drawstring bag with his prosthetic hand in it out from under the seat. Ahsoka is on the passenger’s side, slouched over and arms crossed across her torso. She doesn’t react when Anakin gets in the car, still just staring straight ahead with a worryingly blank look on her face. Anakin wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what, so he just turns the light off, starts the car, and pulls away from the curb.

Something very important does not actually occur to Rex until he is opening the fridge in search of his second beer.

“Shit,” he hisses to himself. “Skywalker was supposed to be my ride home.” He decides against that second beer and shuts the fridge, dragging his hand down his face with a sigh.

Rex checks the time on his phone-- it’s already past midnight, there probably isn’t much time left to the party. Definitely not a lot of time to secure another ride. He barely even considers texting any of his older brothers before ruling it out-- he really doesn’t want Cody to know he was at a party with alcohol, let alone drinking, even if it was only one beer, even though Cody has probably known he’s been going to parties like this for a while now. Any of his other brothers would probably end up telling Cody, and calling his dad is right out. (Cut probably wouldn't tell Cody because Cody is younger than him, but Cut lives outside of the city, so…)

And uncle Ninety-Nine is 100% already asleep, so his options are limited to people already at this party. He hunts down Jesse first to ask him if he has a ride. “Aw, sorry man,” Jesse tells him, “I’m going over to my brother’s dorm after this, I don’t know if we’ll be able to drop you off, it’s really out of the way.”

“That’s alright,” Rex sighs and moves on. 

Kix is nowhere to be found. Rex assumes that if he were to call him right now, Kix’s phone would be heard ringing in one of the upstairs bedrooms-- if it would be heard over the music, of course, which it wouldn't. He finds Hardcase sipping a 4loko on a couch in a less populated sitting room. It's a fucking big house. “Hey, is anyone picking you up later?” Rex practically falls onto the couch next to him, suddenly exhausted. 

“No,” Hardcase lowers the brightly coloured can. “I’m staying for the slumber party. Why?” 

“Just… checking in with everyone, making sure you’re all gonna get home safe and everything.” Rex sighs and rubs his eyes, not sure why he doesn't want to tell Hardcase about his sudden dilemma. Next to him, Hardcase snickers. 

“You are such a mom friend,” his cousin teases him. Rex blinks slowly and leans his head back on the couch.

“It’s my burden,” He sighs again. Hardcase fixes his wig and stands up.

“I’m going back to the party,” he says, “They’re playing pound the alarm and that’s my jam. See you later, Rexter!” Hardcase waves and struts out back towards the living room. Rex stays on the couch. There’s a girl passed out on an armchair in here, so he decides to just sit here and make sure no one comes in and tries anything until her friends come to collect her.

Rex pulls out his phone and opens and closes random apps for a minute. He doesn’t know the wifi password. He doesn’t really know anyone else at this party well enough to ask for a ride aside from his cousins. And he can’t really think of anyone he does know here who he didn’t see drinking. He could get an uber, but he really doesn't have the money for that. So he’s more or less stranded here.

It’s frustrating. He’d actually been having a good time, only to get stuck in this situation. He doesn’t want to be mad, though, because he knows Anakin’s first priority was looking after his little sister, and Rex would have absolutely done the same, dropping anything to help his siblings. He’d even do it for Ahsoka, too. He hopes she’s alright.

They drive home in silence, the radio off, the only light in the car being the fleeting flashes from street lights they pass under. Anakin taps nervously on the steering wheel as he drives, glancing over at Ahsoka every now and then. She hasn’t said a word yet, just staring blankly out the window.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat. “Is everything… okay? Did something happen?” 

Ahsoka looks down at her hands, fingers twisting in her lap. Finally, she speaks. “I punched Lux Bonteri in the face.” 

Well, that explains the busted knuckles, Anakin thinks, but he’s still kind of surprised. “Why? Did he say something out of pocket?”

Another moment passes where Ahsoka doesn’t say anything. Then she whispers, “He kissed me.” 

“He what !” If Ahsoka’s reaction had been punching the kid then she obviously didn’t want-- Anakin sees red, and throws Artoo into reverse to do a three-point turn right there. “I’m going to kick that little shit’s teeth out!”

“No-- no--” Ahsoka grabs his arm, still looking down. “I already might have knocked a tooth out, you don't need to do that. I just-- can we just go home? I don’t want to think about it…” 

Anakin stops, the angry haze clearing as quickly as it appeared. “I’m-- yeah. Sorry.” They’re literally diagonal in the empty dark suburb street. Anakin coughs and straightens the car out, and heads back towards home. 

Now he really doesn’t know what to say. I’m sorry he did that? I shouldn't have left you alone with him? It wasn’t your fault? He’s not great at comforting people beyond swearing to physically fight whoever or whatever it is that’s making someone sad, and that was just ruled out.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Anakin does end up saying, because he’s pretty sure that’s one of the things you're supposed to say when stuff like this happens. 

“I know.” Ahsoka nods and looks back out the window. 

A few more moments of silence pass. Then Ahsoka speaks again. “I think I might be a lesbian.” 

Anakin slams on the breaks.

The drunk passed out girl’s friends had long come and gone, taking the girl with them. Rex had been zoning out on the couch, half listening to the music that can still be heard clearly from down the hall, and half just ‘no thoughts head empty’ing, when there’s a split second of silence in between songs. Honestly, the music at this party has been pretty good. He’ll have to tell Anakin he missed Animal I Have Become . Then the new song starts, and Rex comes fully aware of the present as he realizes what the song is. 

Baby, you’re a haunted house

Better find another superstition

We’re gonna stay in love somehow 

‘Cause, baby, you’re a haunted house now

Rex groans and stands up, remembering at the very beginning of the night Brianna telling them that everyone needs to leave by Baby You’re A Haunted House . That must be this song, no question. He leaves the room and joins the stream of people shuffling out of the house, but sticks himself in a corner near the front door and pulls his phone out with a sigh. He’s so god damn tired, but he sucks it up, turns his data on, and looks up bus times.

And your heart will stay forever

When your last remains are few

In the dark, we dance together

And I'd like to be waiting with you

Anakin coughs awkwardly following his abrupt reaction. Ahsoka gives him a look, and Anakin quickly tries to clarify that he is Not freaking out. ”Okay!” His voice cracks, and he coughs and tries again. “Okay, uh, cool! That is cool. Um. I’m glad you told me! Sorry about that. Was just surprised.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Ahsoka admits, and Anakin starts driving again, a little closer to the speed limit this time. “It’s almost… scary, to call myself a, you know, a lesbian. But it’s what I am, and I don’t want to be scared of it anymore.” 

Anakin just nods. He doesn’t really fully understand what Ahsoka means, but he knows it means something big, and he’s a little choked up that she trusts him enough to share this with him. He still remembers when Rex came out to him in grade ten, and damn if that wasn’t a heavy conversation.

“I am really glad you’re telling me,” he repeats, softer this time. They come to a red light. “Do you want to tell anyone else?”

Ahsoka looks a lot better now than she did ten minutes ago. “Yeah, but I don’t really know how I would,” she says. 

“Send a meme in the group chat.” 

Ahsoka laughs. “I just might.” 

The light turns green. They keep driving.

Oh, baby, you're a haunted house

Better find another superstition

We're gonna stay in love somehow

'Cause, baby, you're a haunted house now

“Hey, Rex, waiting for a ride?” 

Rex looks up from his phone as more and more people leave to see Key standing in front of him, a small smile on the cheerleader’s face. Rex looks back down. “No, I’m trying to figure out how to bus home from here.” 

Key blinks. “You’re taking the bus? Are there even any busses running this late?”

“Not really, no. It’s going to take forever.”

“That sounds kind of dangerous…” Key frowns worriedly, his fluffy brows furrowing adorably. “Especially if you’re alone and drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Rex says. “I had one beer right at the beginning of the party, and I was just going to get another one when my ride ditched me and it really killed my buzz, honestly.”

“That sucks.” Key twists a loc of hair around his finger. “If you want, I could give you a ride?” 

“What?” Rex’s brain stops working momentarily. “Are you sure?” 

“Totally, it’s no trouble,” Key smiles at him, already taking out his keys. “And I haven’t had anything to drink except punch, so no worries there.” 

“Uh, okay,” Rex stammers, barely able to believe this is actually happening. Key beams at him, and Rex ducks his head to hide his blush. The other boy is already heading out the door and bounding down the front steps, and Rex follows him out.

And the nights, they last forever

And days are always making you blue

In the dark, we laugh together

'Cause the misery's funny to you

When Anakin and Ahsoka get home, the giant bowl for halloween candy is sitting out on the counter, empty, but there’s still an open box of assorted bite sized chocolate bars next to it. They immediately shove their hands into the box, grabbing fistfulls of chocolate with gleeful grins on their faces. Across the room, Obi-Wan is kneeling in front of the TV.

“Oh, you two came just in time,” their guardian says. “I was just about to put on a halloween movie, would either of you care to join me? If you’re tired then you don’t have to, of course, but…” 

“Sure,” Ahsoka goes over and sits back on the couch, carefully concealing her bruised knuckles, not wanting to raise questions. “What do we have?”

Obi-Wan looks back at the rows of DVDs lined up on the shelf under the TV. “Lots. We have the nightmare before christmas, hocus pocus, halloweentown, Coraline, Beetlejuice, it’s the great pumpkin charlie brown, ghostbusters, the rocky horror picture show, the Addams family--”

“Oh, the Addams family!” Anakin comes over with the box of candy. “We haven’t watched that one in ages!”

He puts the box down on the coffee table and starts doing a dance. “They do what they wanna do say what they wanna say live how they wanna live play how they wanna play dance how they wanna dance something something france the Addams family!” Anakin sings, and Obi-Wan gives him an amused look. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re enthusiastic about it.” He chuckles. “Looks like we’re watching the Addams family.” 

He puts the DVD in and gets up to turn off the lights. Anakin and Ahsoka settle on the couch with lapfuls of leftover candy, and on his way back, Obi-Wan swipes a coffee crisp from Anakin’s pile. 

“Hey,” Anakin pouts, but shushes when Ahsoka elbows him in the side because the movie’s starting.

Oh, baby, you're a haunted house

Better find another superstition

We're gonna stay in love somehow

'Cause, baby, you're a haunted house now

“Do you need directions or anything?” Rex asks as he puts his seatbelt on in the passenger side of Key’s car.

“I think I know the way to your neighbourhood,” Key says. “You live right down the street from Hardcase, right?”

“Yeah,”

“I know the way.”

Key starts the car and starts driving. He drives like a normal person, which is actually a really nice break from Anakin’s crackshit driving. Rex is having a hard time fully appreciating it, though, because he keeps getting distracted by how Key looks in the light of the streetlights they pass under, and the red and green traffic lights. And just the fact he’s alone in a car with Key right now is frighteningly novel, they’ve barely talked this whole year-- Rex hasn’t had the guts for it-- and now this is happening. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He alternates between looking out the front windshield and back at Key, who’s bouncing a little in his seat and bobbing his head to music only he can hear. It’s one am. Rex thinks he might be a little delirious.

“I don’t know how you still have so much energy,” Rex sighs. “I'm so tired.”

“I’m a cheerleader, we’re supposed to be perky ,” Key says, keeping his eyes on the road. “I probably won’t crash until like four am anyway, at the afterparty.” 

Rex blinks. “There’s an afterparty?”

“The cheerleader sleepover,” Key says. “Your cousin was invited.” 

“Oh, yeah.”

“It’s going to be fun! We’re going to watch Hocus Pocus and play never have I ever with shots and have pillow fights in our underwear,” Key snickers. “You look like you’re ready to sleep for a year, though.”

“Yeah.” Rex rubs his eyes. “Tonight has been a bit of a rollercoaster.” (What he doesn’t know is that the ride’s not over yet, and the last big drop of the night is right around the corner). 

“Hopefully a fun rollercoaster, and not one that makes you throw up after,” Key glances at him with a smile. “You definitely looked like you were having fun in the first half. I really enjoyed dancing with you, even if you did disappear halfway through. I’m guessing that was when your ride ditched you?”

I'll be the only one who likes the things you do

I'll be the ghost inside your head when we are through

Sometimes you scare me, but I come around to you

I'll say hello, hello, (hello)

And I'll find a way to scare you too

Obi-Wan falls asleep halfway through the movie. 

Oh, baby, you're a haunted house

Better find another superstition

We're gonna stay in love somehow

'Cause, baby, you're a haunted house now

Rex blushes and looks down even as he smiles. He was having fun then, actually. He’d been expecting to be bored at best the whole party but Key had been a pleasant surprise. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m not really mad, though, because something happened and he had to take his little sister home. I don’t know what it was, but I really just hope she’s doing okay. Besides, it just made it possible for me to be here with you now, right?”

If it wasn’t completely crazy, Rex would think Key’s cheeks turn pink at that, the cheerleader biting his lip around a smile. Rex just looks at him. He’s nice to look at, but he’s always caught himself looking away, either instinctively or on purpose. But right now he lets himself look. Maybe it’s some sort of halloween madness, maybe he’s just tired, maybe it’s the lights. “Thanks for doing this, by the way. You really didn’t have to.” 

“Hey, anything for a friend, right?” Key shrugs, and Rex blinks. 

“We’re friends?”

Key looks like he finds that funny, but doesn’t laugh because it might seem mean. “Yes? We’ve known each other for like three years, we have classes together every semester, and we coexist through football and cheerleading. We’re totally friends, you’re just an awkward turtleduck.” 

Rex feels a little seen. Of course, he’s very aware of all this. But he hadn’t considered the possibility that that would be enough to make them friends. 

Key makes a turn and suddenly they're on his street, way too soon for Rex’s taste. “Okay, let me know when we reach your house.” 

“Right up here,” Rex points, a regret that the car ride was so short forming in his gut. Key pulls over on the road because there’s no room in the driveway. Rex unbuckles his seatbelt, but doesn’t get out of the car yet. 

Oh, baby, you're a haunted house

Better find another superstition

You better go and take a bow

“Well, this is your stop…” Key seems to hesitate. 

“Yep.” Rex still doesn’t get out of the car. “Uhm, thanks again…” 

“Really, it was no problem. A pleasure, even.” Key smiles at him, brushing his hair back behind his ear. Then his smile fades a little, his expression turning a little more serious, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “Rex, I, um… you know, I… I think you’re really cool.”

Rex’s heart jumps into his throat, and he swallows heavily. “I think you’re really cool, too,” he says. 

There’s a moment of intense eye contact, the two of them shifting slightly in their seats, not really moving-- until the dam breaks. 

Key touches his hair again, something that Rex thinks must be a physical habit of his, and suddenly Rex is seized by the desperate need to know if it’s as soft as it looks. 

If Key’s lips are as soft as they look.

He surges forward, carding his fingers through Key’s hair (ohmygod it is so soft) and pulling him forward. Key meets him right there, wrapping his arms around his neck, and their mouths collide in what is Rex’s first kiss in his entire life, and he thinks that whoever said not to expect much from your first kiss must have either been out of their damn minds or just straight, because this feels like fireworks . 

Key adjusts the angle of their heads and kisses him again, and this time it's even better, not as clumsy, but that sense of urgency that fills their veins with static is still there. Rex runs his fingers through Key’s hair again, trying to get closer, deeper, kissing him harder, more, everything, anything -- 

And then they pull away, faces flushed red and gasping. Key’s hair is all messed up from Rex’s hands and Key’s touch feels searing hot on the back of his neck and Key blinks slowly and gives him this smile that makes Rex just want to die --

Rex lets go and sits back, feeling jittery and a little numb and a little sick and a little like his heart is going to burst out of his ribs, and Key lets him go, still smiling that one smile. “Wow,” he whispers, and Rex gulps.

“Uh-- bye!” 

Then Rex is throwing the car door open and running up the lawn to his front door, wanting to smash his head on a hard surface even as he does it for being so awkward and stupid. But right as he’s about to open the front door he looks back, and sees Key, still in the car, grinning from ear to ear. 

'Cause, baby, you're a haunted house

Baby, you're a haunted house

Baby, you're a haunted house, now

Chapter Text

Rex is just in the locker room, putting his gear on for Monday morning practise and minding his own business, when his locker door is slammed shut right in his face. Rex startles and looks to the side at the person attached to the brown hand holding his locker closed. It’s Hardcase, leaning in close with a gleeful grin on his face and a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Can I… help you?” 

Hardcase’s grin just widens. “I heard the most interesting little bit of gossip at the slumber party on Saturday,” he whispers conspiratorially, and Rex’s stomach plummets. 

“What… did you hear?”

“Oh, nothing,” Hardcase sighs, fiddling with his gloves, even though he just said it was definitely something. “Just that a certain quarterback and a certain base were totally macking on each other in a certain base’s car after the party.”

Rex feels the blood drain from his face as he glances around to make sure no one’s listening. He pulls his locker back open, blocking Hardcase from view. “Well— sometimes rumours are just rumours.”

Hardcase leans around to look at him weirdly. “What?”

“I’m saying that didn’t happen.”

“Oh… kay,” Hardcase raises a dubious eyebrow. “Well, Key is a lot of things, but he’s not a pathological liar, so did you guys kiss or not?” 

“Shhh!” Rex rounds on him, eyes wide. “Keep it down, okay, and just drop it!”

Hardcase blinks. “Uh…” his mouth opens and closes. “Okay, didn't expect that.”

“I said drop it!” Rex hisses and grabs his helmet, storming out of the locker room as the rest of the team shuffles out onto the field for practise, leaving Hardcase behind, bewildered and more than a little concerned. 

Rex tries to keep his focus during practise, running through the motions of every drill coach Krell demands of them, but his mind gets away from him despite his best efforts. 

All Saturday night and all day yesterday Rex hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss— but he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about everything else , either. For as quiet as his mouth is, his brain is almost always in overtime, overthinking everything. 

Had Key talked about it? Told people about it? To be fair, it’s not as if Rex asked him not to say anything— all Sunday he’d opened and closed Key’s Instagram profile, caught between wanting to message him and having absolutely no idea what to say. He’d ended up not saying anything at all, and now here he is. 

Hardcase knows. Who else knows? 

It’s a miracle Krell doesn’t notice his mind wandering. He does some world championship level mind wandering, all the way up until they take a water break halfway through practise. 

Usually, Rex doesn’t pay attention to the people strewn about the bleachers to watch the morning practise. But he wishes he had today, because when he jogs over to the edge of the field for his water bottle, sitting on the bottom bench right in front of him with a smile on his face is none other than his psychic tormentor himself. 

Rex nearly spits out his water when Key waves at him. He quickly looks away, heart hammering in his chest— noticing out of the corner of his eye Hardcase and Jesse both watching him— and checks to make sure coach Krell was looking in the other direction. 

He’s even more out of it for the rest of the practise, hyper aware of Key’s presence on the bleachers and every single pair of eyes on that field. He gets knocked down a few times, more than a few times, way more than he regularly would, and Krell chews him out for it. 

By the time practise is over, he can barely believe the school day hasn’t technically even started yet. He trudges off the field with the rest of the team, tired and sweaty from pushing themselves, pulling his helmet off and grabbing his water bottle before he can make a retreat to the locker room. 

It’s as he’s getting his water bottle and taking a long, much needed drink, that Key comes up to him. It’s chilly in the beginning of November, and the cheerleader in question is wearing an oversized coat that looks vintage, his fingertips just barely poking out from the sleeves, and Rex has to concentrate on not thinking about how it’s adorable. 

“Hey Rex!” Key beams at him as he approaches.

“H-hey,” Rex croaks back, and Key just keeps coming, stepping right up close, and Rex practically scrambles backwards. At his reaction, Key stops and blinks, his smile slipping a little, and that’s when the guilt really hits him, like a sledgehammer to Rex’s gut. 

He glances around, no one’s paying attention to them. “How many people did you tell?”

“What?”

“About the— after the party, how many people did you tell?”

Key looks lost. “I— just my friends at the sleepover…” 

The twisting feeling in Rex’s stomach is quickly becoming panic. “So basically the whole fucking cheer squad? How long is it going to be until literally the whole school knows!” 

“Sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t want anyone to know!” 

“No one can know, okay!” Rex hisses. “And nothing else can happen, so— just forget about it, okay?”

Key takes a half step back, his eyes shining in the morning light with the beginnings of tears, and Rex feels like the worst person on the planet. “What if I can’t just forget about it?” Key whispers. “I-- I thought…” 

“What did you think?” Rex drags a hand down his face. “Look, I, I’m really sorry, but whatever you thought, nothing can happen with… with us. I don’t know what I was thinking…” He mutters that last bit. He hadn’t been thinking when he kissed Key, being honest. Or at least, he hadn’t been thinking about the ramifications. But it was so amazing… he wishes he could regret it. He wishes Key’s feelings hadn’t been hurt because of him.

Key shakes his head like he doesn’t understand. People continue to pass around them, unnoticing of them, like a river around a stone. Two stones. Two emotionally distressed, teenage stones. “You kissed me …” He mumbles, twisting and pulling on a chunk of his hair right below his ear.

“Well it— it was a mistake, okay. A dumb mistake. Just-- just forget about it.” Rex sighs.

Key flinches and looks away, tugging on his hair harder. When he speaks, his voice sounds tight. “Look, is this a you thing, or is it, is it a me thing, because--”

They’re interrupted a deep, booming voice coming their way, and Rex flinches. “75! Are you going to keep gossiping on the sidelines like a girl or are you going to hit the showers before you’re late for class!”

Coach Krell inserts himself next to them, looming over the both of them, and Key seems to shrink under the coach’s shadow even as Rex instinctively fixes his own posture. 

“Sorry, coach,” Rex says, and to his horror, Krell rounds on Key next.

“And you, Mahdizadeh.” Krell barks, completely butchering the pronunciation of Key’s last name. At that, Rex sees Key’s jaw twitch. “Get the hell off my field, pansy. I don’t want you infecting my players with your queerness .” 

Key glances quickly between Rex and Krell, then, without saying another word, adjusts his backpack, pulls his jacket tighter around himself, and storms off. Rex adjusts his helmet tucked under his arm, nods at Krell, and leaves before the coach can say anything else. 

As he leaves, insides twisted in terrible knots, he glances up at the bleachers, hoping that Anakin didn’t witness any of that. But when he looks, his best friend is nowhere to be seen. 

Anakin is trying really, really hard not to fall asleep at his desk. They’re having some kind of class discussion that he really doesn’t care about, and he is just so, so tired. 

He dozes in and out of awareness. Personally, he thinks it’s too damn early in the morning to be talking about capitalism or whatever. That sort of thing would be more like something Rex would be all over, but even his best friend is silent at his own desk, writing something Anakin can’t see on a scrap piece of paper and then scribbling it out, then writing something again. 

He hopes Rex isn’t mad they left him behind at the party. Anakin hadn’t even remembered he was also supposed to drive Rex home until, like, Sunday afternoon. But he’s still in one piece, so he must have gotten home fine somehow . 

Anakin should probably still apologize, though. The train of thought wakes him up a little just in time to hear the ‘devil’s advocate’s newest argument. 

“But you’re forgetting that capitalism breeds innovation, without the motivation of profit then there would be no more innovation,”

“Oh sorry, I forgot that the cavepeople were motivated by profit when they figured out fire,” says another one of their classmates. 

“Discovering survival necessities is not the same thing as innovation—“

“Actually, she is right,” Obi-Wan cuts in, which he rarely does during class discussions, usually content to sit back and let the conversation play out. He does still moderate when he has to, though. “The earliest humans were inventing tools before they even had any concept of currency.” 

“Well still,” the other kid goes on, clicking his tongue irately. Anakin doesn’t remember his full name, Something Trench, or whatever. The only thing he really knows about him is he's in the chess club and he’s weirdly into military history. “Money makes the world go round, you can’t deny that. Without the incentive of money, people wouldn’t work hard to actually contribute to society. They get lazy, and selfish, thinking they’re entitled to handouts.”

Anakin sits up. He’s heard this one before. “Just what exactly do you mean?” He says deceptively evenly. Rex finally looks up at him from his desk. 

“You all know what I mean,” Trench looks around the room with a smug expression. The class all looks down, not meeting his eyes. “The homeless, illegal aliens, those on welfare, sucking up our country’s tax dollars like mosquitoes. They’re lazy, and they get a harsh wake up call when they realize life doesn’t give you free handouts. There’s no place in society for people like that.”

Anakin’s fists clench on his desk even as Obi-Wan speaks up from the front of the class, “Now that is not at all appropriate—“

“Shut the hell up!” He yells over Obi-Wan. “Homeless people are people , not fucking aliens or outsiders, or, or other, they’re valuable members of our community that need to be given the same opportunities and respect and dignity as everyone else!”

“Tell him, Skywalker,” someone mutters from the back of the class. Obi-Wan steps forward, looking like he’s going to intervene, but he gets talked over again. 

“Please,” Trench clicks his tongue again. “This country is nothing but opportunity. Respect must be earned . Anyone can succeed if they work hard enough— that’s the whole point of capitalism— the homeless just aren’t willing to put in the work, and so they get what they deserve.”

“Shut up!” Anakin stands from his seat. He can feel heat rushing to his face as he sees red. “ Shut up ! My mom worked harder than anyone but it still didn't get us anywhere because the whole world was against us! You don’t get it, the idea that you can just make something from absolutely nothing is a fucking lie ! No one deserves to be homeless, you piece of shit!”

“Anakin—“ Anakin only half-hears Obi-Wan’s attempt to calm him, steamrolling right over him in his fury. 

“I was homeless for my entire childhood since I was fucking born and it was hell! You have no idea what it’s like, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

For as blindingly livid as Anakin becomes, Trench remains apathetic, like this is a game to him. He scoffs, “Well, maybe if your mother was smarter she would have gotten rid of you sooner . I can’t imagine how stupid she must have been to bring such a burden as a child into a life on the streets.” Trench sighs and faces forward again like he’s had the last word. “Then again, she was probably just a drug addicted prostitute, anyway. Better off dead.” 

“Trench— “ Obi-Wan snaps, but is once again cut off by Anakin. 

“Say it again!” He roars, storming across the classroom towards Trench, the other students scrambling out of his way. He comes to a halting stop right next to Trench’s desk, who jolts and leans back. “Look me in the eye and say that about my mom again, I fucking dare you!”

Trench takes a deep breath in through his nose, stands up, looks Anakin directly in the eye, and says, “Your mother was a drug addicted prostitute, and better off dead.”

Anakin grabs the collar of Trench’s shirt in both fists and throws him to the ground, slamming him into the floor. Shouts erupt in the classroom as Anakin launches himself down at him and punches him right in the face, and does it again, and again. 

Suddenly he’s being pulled away by multiple pairs of hands, still kicking and snarling. Obi-Wan’s voice cuts through the clamour, shouting loud enough to silence the whole room. “That is ENOUGH !” 

When the angry haze clears, Anakin realizes it’s Rex and Jesse holding him back, restraining him by the arms and dragging him away from Trench. Trench is sprawled on the floor, a look of pure shock on his face, holding his bloody nose, eye already blackened. 

Anakin is pulled to his feet and he can feel tears start to prick in his eyes, his face burning.

Everyone is looking at him. 

He wants to scream at them until they all stop, but suddenly his voice gets caught in his throat, and he can’t make even a sound. 

Obi-Wan himself drags Trench up by a hand around his bicep, expression thunderous. 

“Anakin, go to the principal’s office now!” 

“But he—“ Anakin croaks as he’s finally let go, but is cut off by Obi-Wan making a silencing gesture. 

“Oh, Mr. Trench and I will absolutely be having a talk on the way to the nurse.” Obi-Wan whips his head around to glare at Trench, then looks back to Anakin and points out the door. “But you know better than to resort to physical violence. Go, now.”

Rife with shame and humiliation, Anakin turns and shuffles out of the classroom, and makes his way down the hall towards the principal’s office. 

Anakin never came back to class after that— and neither did Mr. Kenobi for that matter. After Anakin had left, Mr. Kenobi turned to all of them and said, “Do what you want for the rest of the period, talk, read, go on your phones, draw on the board, I don’t care. Just don’t go anywhere until the bell rings.” 

Then he also walked out, Trench in tow, to take him to the nurse’s office. 

Immediately, several students grabbed their bags and walked out. Rex just went back to his desk in a haze, reeling from all that had happened in just a few short minutes. He’d glanced up once, made direct eye contact with Key who was still standing on the other side of the classroom, then Key quickly looked away and so did he. He was aware of Jesse’s eyes on him, but he kept his head down until the bell rang and he could flee. 

Now, the period is over and the lunch break has started, and Rex goes to his locker for his wallet that he’d left in there this morning instead of putting it in his bag like normal. 

As soon as he gets his locker open, though, he spots something that wasn’t there this morning, clearly having been pushed in through the vents at the top. He grabs the mysterious object and examines it— it’s a CD, with a torn off piece of lined paper taped to the front. 

He pulls the paper off to reveal the album cover— it is, according to the cover, Young Enough by Charly Bliss… or maybe it’s Charly Bliss by Young Enough, Rex doesn’t recognize the band so he doesn’t know. That’s when he realizes there’s writing on the other side of the paper. It’s a note. 

This is my favourite CD, the note begins. The pencil is dark and pressed hard into the paper, like the author had been angry when they wrote it. It goes on:

I was going to give it to you, but I guess you don’t want it. You can have it anyway. 

I don’t know what I was thinking. But after that outburst from Coach Krell, I think I understand why you’re not out at school. 

I mean, it still sucks. And what you said hurt. But I get it. At my old school  And I’ll make sure none of my friends say anything either, they’re cool, don’t worry. Sorry for blabbing. 

And I’m sorry for embarrassing you earlier. I won’t bother you anymore. 

• Key 

Rex sighs as he finishes reading the note, thunking his head on the edge of his open locker. It hurts. He regrets it. He looks back down at the CD. 

With the CD and note in hand, he kneels down and opens his backpack. He pulls out two spare sheets of paper and carefully wraps the CD in the paper so it doesn’t get scratched or anything in his bag. Then Rex folds the note up and tucks it into his binder. 

When he looks back up, a pair of jeans next to him is blocking his vision. Rex tilts his head back to look at who is attached to those jeans. It’s Jesse. Rex zips his bag shut and stands up, hefting it onto his shoulder. 

“Hey, Jesse. What’s up?” Rex tries for a smile, but the look on his cousin’s face quickly shoots that down. 

“Wanna go outside?” Jesse says, voice and face strangely blank. Rex doesn’t like it. 

“Uh, sure…” Rex nods and closes his locker, and the two of them walk in silence outside, towards the back of the school where there’s no one else around. 

As soon as they’re alone, Jesse spins around and glares at him. “What the hell was that this morning, Rex!”

Rex’s stomach plummets. “What are you talking about,” he says even though he knows what Jesse is talking about. 

“I’m talking about after practice when you shot down Key like a jerk .” Jesse’s jaw twitches. “Seriously, what the hell was that all about!”

Rex grips the strap of his backpack tighter. “Just how much did you hear?” 

“Everything!” Jesse snaps, then falters. “Well, not everything , but we heard enough! And we especially heard you telling Key that kissing him was a mistake — which, for one thing, fucking rude , but also that doesn’t make any sense because I know that you’ve liked him since the fucking tenth grade, so just— what the fuck, man! He was crying , like for real crying, he missed like half of first period before Hardcase and Keasha helped him pull it together! I didn’t know you could be such a fucking asshole !”

With that, Jesse shoves him with the natural force of a right guard, sending Rex nearly stumbling back a couple steps. Rex shoves Jesse’s shoulder back, anger sizzling in his veins to match. “I didn’t mean to hurt him! I didn’t want to hurt him, I didn’t even want to have to reject him in the first place! I was just—“ Rex stops, breaking eye contact. He doesn’t want to admit this, but it’s the truth. “I was scared . I’m not out at school, Jesse, did you even know that? I can’t be out! Not with fucking Coach Krell breathing down my neck all the time! He has different expectations of me than the rest of you, you see that, right!” 

Jesse just scoffs, crossing his arms. “Never thought you’d be the one afraid of what Krell thinks.”

“I’m not afraid of what the coach would think, I’m afraid of what he would do! If this kind of thing got round to him, I’d be off the team, at least, my post secondary options would be shot to hell, and there’s no telling if Krell would even stop there! What the hell was I supposed to do!”

“What you should have done,” Jesse pokes him hard in the chest, glaring up at him. “Is talked about it with Key before he went and got his hopes up! And maybe be actually honest with him as a little special treat, because you made him think you don’t actually return his feelings— which is just a lie because I know you do! He’s feeling hurt and used, and he doesn’t wanna be the poor sap that the closet case quarterback uses like a rag to get his frustrations out on but doesn’t actually care about, either, because he’s not that desperate and it’s a stupid fucking trope, anyway!”

Rex agreed that that’s a stupid fucking trope but that’s not him, and that’s not what’s going on here, he swears. But… he remembers back to what Key wrote. But I guess you don’t want it … I won’t bother you anymore… damn, he fucked up even worse than he thought, didn’t he? 

“I need to fix this,” Rex thinks about the CD in his bag, heavier than any of his textbooks. Jesse seems to deflate. 

“Yeah. Just talk to him, Rex.”

“What if I don’t know what to say?”

“You’ll find the words. You’re good at public speaking, so I know you know how to articulate shit. Just get the conversation started, and you’ll get it eventually. But you gotta talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Rex sighs. That seems to be enough for Jesse to be satisfied. His cousin walks back towards the school, tugging him along by his letterman jacket. 

“Let’s go get lunch and meet up with the others. You’re not the only one who scored on Saturday, and unlike you, Kix has no hangups about bragging about his accomplishments.”

Rex gives a small laugh and follows without resistance or protest. He pulls his phone out form his pocket and opens up Spotify. 

Earlier… 

When Anakin gets to the principal’s office, the receptionist there, Mr. Amedda, just waves him in without a word. He opens the door himself. Palpatine is inside, seated at his desk, but when he sees he look on Anakin’s face, he stands, with a concerned expression. 

“Anakin, my boy,” the principal greets him. Anakin trudges over and sits heavily in the smaller chair on the other side of the desk. The door closes behind him. “Is everything alright? Why are you here?”

“I started a fight in class,” Anakin mumbles, looking down at his hands, as Palpatine comes around and stands next to him. 

“Now, why did you do that?” Palpatine says, always so understanding when Anakin needs him to be. “I’m sure you must have had a good reason for doing something so drastic.”

Anakin’s jaw tightens, a shadow of the anger returning just remembering it. “He insulted my mom.”

Palpatine sighs. “Yes, I suppose that would do it. Insult a man’s honour, that is one thing, but insult a man’s mother, that is something completely different.” He goes back to his own seat and tilts his head at Anakin from across the desk, a sympathetic turn to his brow. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Getting up from his seat, Anakin sighs. “I don’t know…” he goes around to Palpatine’s side, leaning back against the desk and crossing his arms. Looking out the window, he says, “I miss her a lot. I haven’t seen her in almost nine years, since, you know.”

When Anakin was nine years old, he was separated from his mom by child services and put in an orphanage, forbidden from seeing or speaking to her. That was where Qui-Gon found him, and told him he would reunite him with his mom, but that… obviously never happened. Maybe if Qui-Gon has lived, it would have. 

“And I… I’m really worried about her, too. I don’t know where she is or how she’s doing, or… or if she’s…” Anakin looks down, a lump forming in his throat. “I keep having nightmares about her getting murdered. Every night. I can’t sleep because of it. I wish I could find her again and make sure she’s okay, but…”

Vivid, vivid nightmares that for some reason, as soon as he wakes up, the details of the images never stick. A small part of him is afraid he’s forgetting what his mom’s face looks like. All that’s left when he wakes up pale and shaking is the sense of fear and helplessness. 

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” Palpatine leans back in his seat, and Anakin looks at him surprised. 

“What?”

“Reuniting with your mother,” Palpatine says. “You’re a smart young man, I’m sure you could find her without too much trouble.”

A spark of hope lights up in Anakin, as well as the curling warmth that always comes with Palpatine’s praise. “You think so?”

“Of course.” Palpatine smiles. And so does Anakin. 

“Maybe Obi-Wan can help,” he starts, but then Palpatine’s smile drops, and so does Anakin’s. “What?” 

“Well,” Palpatine hums, clasping his hands together. “It’s only that… well, I’ve known Obi-Wan for a long time, longer than even you have, and, well… he’s not like you. He doesn’t have any blood family out there waiting for him. He may not understand.” 

Anakin frowns. “Obi-Wan wouldn’t try to stop me from finding my mom,” he says. 

“I’m not necessarily saying he would,” Palpatine hesitates, “Although… I have always worried about him, he has always been somewhat cold, though I don’t think he means to be.”

Anakin’s frown deepens. “Obi-Wan isn’t cold,” he says, but even as he does, the principal’s words roll around in his mind. 

“You haven’t noticed it? I’ve always found him quite distant.” Palpatine quirks an eyebrow at him, and Anakin shrugs, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

“I mean, he is pretty… I don’t know, private? I mean, it would be nice if he showed more emotion, sure, but he’s just like that. I don’t know.” Anakin concedes, but then remembers that, while Qui-Gon has promised to reunite him and his mom, Obi-Wan has never even tried. Never even mentioned it. Maybe… “I guess you are right, though. Finding my mom, this is personal. I think this is something I’ll have to do on my own.”

Palpatine nods. “Some journeys are meant to be taken alone. But don’t forget, my dear boy, I will always be here when you need me, even when there is no one else.”

Anakin smiles. “Thanks, Sheev.”

“Now, is there anything else you’d like to talk about while you’re here? You don’t have to go back to class anytime soon if you don’t want to, and besides, it’s not as if you can get in trouble if you’re with me the whole time.”

Anakin laughs, then looks out the window again, and realized there actually is something else he needs help with. “Well… I have been having trouble deciding where to go for university…”

He ends up sitting in Palpatine’s office talking to him for the rest of the period and then most of lunch, too, and leaves with just enough time to run and grab his stuff and shovel his lunch in standing at his locker before the bell rings for class. And when he gets to his next class, he’s in a way better mood then he was this morning. 

He hardly pays attention to what the teacher is saying, already formulating in his mind how he’s going to go about looking for his mom. 

After school, Rex finds Key a little ways away from the front entrance, sitting on the steps by the school bus pickup spot, separate from the crowd of everyone else waiting for their bus. Key raises his head as he notices Rex coming down the steps behind him, but looks away again when Rex sits down next to him. 

“Um, hi,” Rex doesn’t try for eye contact either, instead looking down at his shoes. 

“Hey,” Key says, sounding as glum as he looks. Rex feels like a whole piece of shit. 

“Um,” Rex repeats, then opens his bag and pulls out the CD. He holds it out to Key, who just looks blankly down at it. “It’s not that I don’t want it,” he says before there’s anymore miscommunication, “Or… or what it… represents. I just… don’t want you to give anything up for me.”

Key says nothing, but takes the CD back, looking down at it the whole time. Their fingers do not touch as it’s passed between them. 

“I, uh… found the artist on Spotify. They’re pretty good. Good lyrics. Uh. What I mean to say is, sorry for being such a jerk this morning. I was panicking and said things I didn’t mean.”

Key doesn’t say anything in response, so after a minute of just sitting in silence, Rex keeps going, hoping the whole time he doesn’t accidentally put his foot in his mouth again. “I know it doesn’t undo it. I mean, I’m sorry for making you cry— uh, fuck, hold on, sorry,” Rex reaches into his bag and retrieves a crumpled up piece of scrap paper. He smooths it out on his thighs, then grips it with both hands. 

“I am sorry for my hurtful words and actions from this morning,” Rex reads almost robotically from the paper. “I was scared of the possibility of being outed, and therefore reacted poorly without thinking of, of how my reaction would affect others. Uh, specifically you. But unfortunately, even though I wish it didn’t have to be this way, my feelings don’t change the fact that I can not be out at school, and therefore we can’t, uh…” Rex lowers the paper and mutters, “be together.” 

When he looks back up, Key is looking right at him with a tiny smile and watery eyes. Rex makes a sound like a slowly and sadly deflating balloon. “Please don’t start crying again,” he says with a hint of desperation. But to his surprise, that actually makes Key laugh. 

“I promise,” Key says as his giggles fade, pushing his bangs away from his face. Just from looking at his face, Rex would never have guessed that Key had been crying as hard as Jesse said. “After, uh, after Coach Krell butted in, I think I see why you freaked out. It’s okay, like, totally understandable and valid and all that. Still hurt though. Thought you… I felt sort of… used? Even though we only kissed I felt like you just saw me as an opportunity and not as… it was a bad feeling. Sorry, I just got really in my head about it.”

Rex frowns. “I wouldn’t do that to you. To anyone.”

“I know, I didn’t think you would. That’s why I was so shocked and upset when I thought you had . It was just silly of me, though, it’s okay.”

“It’s really not,” Rex grumbles, propping his elbows on his knees. “You don’t need to pretend like it is. You just seemed so happy this morning and I totally ruined it…” Rex trails off as someone else comes down the steps next to them, and waits until they’re out of earshot to speak again. “I, I really do like you. But I did mean it when I said nothing more can happen. Sorry.”

Key looks off to the side, seeming deep in thought. “So you… didn’t just say you liked me because I said it first?”

Rex coughs. “No, I… I've actually had a crush on you since grade ten.”

“Are you for real!” Key swings head head back around to look at Rex, jaw dropped. Then his mouth snaps closed, and his eyes widen further, flushing bright red. “I mean— uh— me too. Like, I have also had a crush on you since then. Wow. How bananas is that?”

Rex laughs, more with the movement of his shoulders than with his vocal chords. “Pretty bananas, for sure,” he says, smiling at Key’s choice of words. Key bites his lip, and Rex tries not to focus on it, but it’s harder now that everything’s been pretty much aired out. 

“Are you sure we can’t, like, even just sneak around, canoodling in secret or anything?” The cheerleader says with an impish little smile. Rex sighs. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to be some dirty little secret,” he says. “And, honestly, I don’t really want that either. It would be great if we could, you know, be open about stuff like how I’m pretty sure how you want— I want that too— but we just can’t. Sorry.”

“You’re right,” Key props his elbows on his knees and props his face on his hands, squishing his cheeks a little. “What a bummer.”

“Yeah,”

“I’m probably gonna cry some more when I get home.”

“That’s fair.” 

“But I’m not gonna… ask you to come out ‘for me’ or say anything like if you really liked me you would come out, because that would be shitty and ridiculous and manipulative. Like, I don’t… like the circumstances, yeah, but I accept them.”

Rex looks away. “Thanks.” His own voice sounds a little choked up. He clears his throat. 

“Besides, Coach Krell is really scary,” Key continues, and Rex chuckles. 

“He really is. He hates us all so much, it’s a wonder he hasn’t just beaten any of us up yet.”

“Probably it’s because if he did he would definitely get fired,” Key drawls, then perks up like he’s actually had an idea. “Hey, maybe I can just, like, take one for the team and then—“

“No ,” Rex cuts him off before that terrible idea can go any further, and he’s serious about it because Krell is like twice Key’s size and would probably break all his bones in a fight and that— that would be— not good. 

Neither of them really know what to say after that, so they sit in semi-awkward silence for another minute before Key speaks again. 

“So, I guess… we're still just friends, then?” 

Rex nods. “Yeah,” he says regretfully. 

“Friends who have crushes on each other but can’t do anything about it.”

“Pretty much.”

Key sighs. “This sucks. And you’re such a good kisser, too. Oh hey my bus is here, bye!” He stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder, running over to the yellow bus that just pulled up before Rex can even finish processing that. He stutters out a ‘bye’ in return, face flaming hot, and Key smiles at him over his shoulder before disappearing into the bus. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Rex sighs, glad that at least he and Key are on the same page, now, but he doesn’t really feel all that much better. If it weren’t for Krell, that bastard, then— things could be different. But Krell just ruins everything, and Rex can't imagine that will change any time soon. 

As he’s going down to the parking lot to see if either Uncle Ninety-Nine or Cody are still around to offer a ride, he texts Anakin. 

>Hey, are you ok? Didn’t really see you at all today. What Trench said was really shitty, and I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright

He doesn’t get a response right away. He sends another text. 

>Mr. Kenobi probably feels really bad that it got to that point. I’ll bet you could guilt at least a tub of ice cream out of him

Still no response. 

In fact, Anakin doesn’t respond to his texts all night. 

Anakin is small. That is the first thing he notices. The second thing he notices is that he’s running. 

He’s running and it’s dark. The pavement is wet. He can barely get enough air to fill his tiny lungs. Someone is holding his one hand, gripping his little fingers in their larger one. Three sets of feet pound on the pavement as they run. His shoes are thin and too small and his feet hurt. 

He’s pulled into an alley and a pair of warm, calloused hands push him forward towards the small gap in between the brick wall of the building and a dumpster. “Hide!” A frantic voice urges him. 

Anakin turns at the last second to see his mom pushing him backwards into the gap with a hand on his chest. There’s raw fear on her face. He stifles a cry and tries to hold on to her hand, grabbing at her dry and cracked fingers with his hand, his stump pushing on the back of her hand. But she just shoves him farther in, and he goes, wedged in the tight space, until she’s out of reach. 

Either there are tears streaming down his face, or it’s started raining. 

Then his mom pulls away, backing away, leaving him behind, but barely gets more than a few steps away. Anakin watches, pinned, unable to turn his head to look away. His eyes won’t close. He can not see the man that was chasing them, only sees the hand that grabs his mom’s shoulder and shoves her back against the wall. And the other hand wielding a knife.

The blade glints in the flickering streetlight as the man raises it. Anakin’s mom does not scream. 

Anakin can’t close his eyes as the man plunges the knife into his mom’s chest. His mom makes no sound but a broken wet gasp as the man pulls the knife back out and blood sprays everywhere. 

His mom slumps to the ground, her head lolling to the side facing away from him, unmoving. The man walks away. Anakin screams —

Anakin jolts awake like he’s been electrocuted, gasping hard for air and lungs filling too quickly. He throws himself upright, shaking hand gripping the blanket so hard his fingers hurt. 

He— he’s safe. He knows that. He knows where he is. 

But his mom could be anywhere. Anakin slowly uncurls his stiff fingers and drops his face into his hand, tucking his stump in close to his torso and curling inwards around it. 

The details of his nightmare are already escaping him. Obviously he remembers what his mom’s face looks like, or his subconscious couldn’t have conjured it for his nightmare, but when he tries to picture her in his head, it feels all wrong. 

If only he had just one photo of her. 

If only they hadn’t been separated in the first place. 

Only when he feels wetness dripping on his palm does Anakin realize he’s started crying. 

“Mom…” he whispers, muffled, into his hand, and his lip starts to quiver. Once he starts crying he can’t stop, trying to muffle his hiccuping sobs into his hand, shoulders shaking. His heart is still hammering in his chest like he really had been running for his life. 

His heart hardens with resolve. He needs to find his mom. 

Nothing is as important anymore as making sure she’s okay. 

Chapter Text

By the time thanksgiving rolls around, fall is in full swing. The leaves are turned and branches bare, instead a crunchy carpet of red yellow and orange lines the sidewalks. The chill is here to stay— it’s no longer possible to leave the house without some sort of jacket. 

Anakin hasn’t seen Padmé’s family in a while, but they greet him warmly like it’s been no time at all when he gets to the airport. They’re all there to see Padmé’s flight come in, and her parents ask him how school is going. He answers only partially truthfully: he says it’s going well (a lie) and he got in to all the schools he applied to but one (a truth). Her sisters, both older, indulge in what seems to be their favourite pastime while they wait-- teasing him. It’s the most pleasant Anakin has felt in three weeks, three weeks that have gone by so fast he's barely even noticed. Three weeks of losing sleep, trying to juggle his schoolwork and looking for his mom, something that is steadily taking over his every thought. 

It’s not like he expected to have found her by now, but… he’s getting more and more anxious. 

His social life is suffering for it, too. He even missed one of Rex’s games, the big one where they qualified for state. He could tell his friend was upset about it, but Rex didn’t say anything. Anakin is now making a big deal out of asserting the fact that missing the game is not something he intends on repeating. He’s pretty sure it’s not helping. 

He hates feeling so useless.

The screen changes again, and Padmé’s flight is marked as arrived, highlighted in green. Anakin’s breath catches in his throat as he intensely watches the escalator for his girlfriend’s smiling face. 

Finally, he spots her coming down from the upper level, and she spots them at the same time, waving at the group of them as she descends on the escalator with her carry on. Anakin runs to meet her, and as soon as the way is clear scoops her up in his arms and lifts her up and spins her around, grinning and laughing. Padmé grabs his shoulders for support as she’s swung around in the air, a huge smile on her face. “Ani, put me down!” She says in between shrieking giggles. 

He does, still holding her close even as he sets her back on her feet. “Hey Angel,” Anakin whispers, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, Ani,” Padmé smiles up at him. She goes up onto her toes and presses a quick kiss to his lips, which he’s fast to return before her feet are flat on the ground again and her face is out of reach. 

Even as she turns to greet her family with each a hug and smile of their own, the happy grin doesn’t fade from Anakin's face, and his gaze doesn’t stray from her. Seeing Padmé in person again is like a breath of fresh air after fighting through thick smog for months. Like the sun breaking through the dark storm clouds that loom over his life right now. No matter what else is wrong, being around her makes it feel like all those problems never existed in the first place. 

Padmé turns back to him with her smile so bright, and Anakin’s heart skips a beat.

They’re in Padmé’s room at her parents’ house, Anakin chilling on the bed while Padmé puts away the sparse things she brought home with her for the short break. She’ll only be here a few days before having to fly back to California, and Anakin obviously wishes she could stay longer, but it’s still better than having to wait until winter break. If he’d had to wait that long just to get to actually hold her again, he’d probably have just shrivelled up and died. 

“Hey,” Anakin rolls over onto his back on the bed and looks at Padmé upside down. “Do you wanna come over for dinner tonight?” 

“Tonight?” Padmé looks back at him from over her shoulder. “Sure, I can do that! It’ll be nice to see Obi-Wan again,” She says.

“And you can finally meet Ahsoka!”

“Yes!” Padmé really perks up at that. “You’ve told me so much about her, I can’t wait to meet her! Oh--” She gets up and goes over to her quite substantial walk-in closet. “I need to start planning my outfit,” Padmé says as she starts to rummage through her clothes. 

Anakin snorts. “It’s just dinner,” he says. Padmé pokes her head out of her closet and makes a face at him. 

“I want to make a good first impression,” she pouts. Anakin rolls back over and kicks his feet in the air. 

“Well I’ve talked about you to her as much as I’ve talked about her to you, and she’s going to love you no matter what you wear. Also, whatever you do end up wearing, remember it has to be something that you’re okay with getting covered in dog hair.”

Padmé pauses, considering the contents of her closet for a moment. Then, “I’ll pack a lint roller in my purse.”

Anakin laughs. “Or you can just dress casually for once.”

From the depths of the closet, Padmé calls, “Me? Dressed casually? It’s like you don’t even know me.” She emerges with a dress that Anakin is pretty sure she wore to an academics awards show last year. It’s sparkly. “Maybe I’ll come in a floor length gown just to be contrary.” 

“Please don’t.” Anakin says, but he’s still laughing. “I think you're the only person I know who’s never afraid to be overdressed.”

“There’s no such thing as being overdressed.” Padmé sniffs. “Oh, did I tell you about the crazy thing that happened earlier this week?” 

Anakin shrugs as best he can while lying down. “You tell me about lots of crazy things.”

“Well,” Padmé begins, coming over and sitting on the small, plush rug next to her bed. “Earlier this week, in political theory, we were in group discussion and this one guy, I think he’s actually an economics major, kept interrupting the girl who was trying to make her point, and Rush--”

“Rush,” Anakin interrupts. “Clovis? You still talk to that douchebag?”

“We have classes together,” 

Anakin frowns. “I thought I told you it makes me upset when you talk to him.” 

“You did,” Padmé sighs. “But like I said, we have classes together, it’s not like I can avoid him entirely. Besides, he’s an old friend, I’d feel bad just cutting him off completely. He’s really not as bad as you think he is. But still, we don’t talk much outside of class, it’s not as if I’m getting coffee with him every day.” 

“You better not be,” Anakin grumbles. Padmé turns with a carefully crafted neutral face and continues with her unpacking, not saying anything else. “Are you not going to finish the story?”

“No,” Padmé says lightly. “You don’t like it when I talk about Rush, so I just won’t.”

“Well-- good, actually.” Anakin says. “He’s a creep and should stay away from you.” 

Padmé doesn't say anything in response to that, just keeps meticulously folding and putting away her clothes.

The awkwardness of the silence starts to get to Anakin pretty quickly. He shifts uncomfortably while Padmé’s back is still turned to him. 

“Uhm, I’ve been thinking about it, and…” Anakin hesitates. “I think I’m gonna pick Stanford.”

Padmé pauses, still turned away. She’s oddly silent and still for a moment, and an unidentifiable feeling of badness settles like a weight in Anakin’s stomach. Nothing is not the reaction he might have expected— maybe not literally jumping for joy, but he thought he’d be at least a little bit happy to hear it. 

“Are you sure?” Padmé eventually says. Anakin sits up, frown on his face. 

“What? Of course I’m sure!” He picks at the rips in his jeans. “Why would you even ask that?”

“I just don’t want you to feel obligated to choose the same school as me, especially since I know it’s not actually your first choice.” Padmé turns to look him in the eye, and Anakin’s frown deepens. “Also, you were just reminded of the fact that Rush also goes to Stanford, and I know you’re jealous of him--even though you have no reason to be-- and I don’t want you choosing your post secondary path influenced by insecurities--”

“I’m not jealous! Or insecure! I’m better than him and I know it!”

“There’s no competition between you!” Padmé is starting to look and sound exasperated. They’ve had this conversation almost a million times. “He doesn’t matter, and you need to stop feeling so threatened by him. I love you , Ani, and only you, I don’t want anyone else. This isn’t some dumb YA novel, there’s no love triangle, I’m not caught between choosing either of you!”

“I know that, but--”

“But what? If you’re thinking of following me to Stanford just so you can keep him away from me yourself, then just don’t.” Padmé stands up and smoothes down her skirt even though it wasn’t rumpled in the first place. An agitated flush starts to blossom high on her cheeks. “I know long distance hasn’t been as easy as we hoped, but I’d still hoped you would trust me enough to not cheat on you!”

“I never said you were cheating on me! I never said you would cheat on me!” Anakin stands up too, hands clenched at his sides. 

“But you’ve been thinking it! You’ve been thinking it this whole time!” This whole time, meaning as long as Padmé’s been away, apart from him, on the other side of the country, and the worst part is, if Anakin denied it, he’d be lying. 

“Well of fucking course I’ve been thinking it!” Anakin yells. “Because why the hell wouldn’t you! You’re off at university while I’m stuck here, and any second now you’re going to find a perfect version of me who’s nice and cool and smart and probably just as rich as you who isn’t fucked up like me whose fucking brain works the way it’s supposed to and has all the fucking limbs he’s supposed to have! Everyone in the goddamn world is in love with you, so it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it!?” 

“Stop that!” Padmé cries. “Don’t talk about yourself like that! I love you just how you are, those aren’t flaws!” She drags a hand through her hair, disturbing her braid. “But see, this is exactly what I’m talking about! You’re letting your insecurities make your decisions for you and you’re going to end up regretting it later!” 

“This isn’t even about that! It’s-- Stanford can offer better scholarships than MIT can, and obviously MIT is still my dream school but I’m trying to be realistic here! Jesus fucking christ, I thought you’d be happy I’m picking Stanford!”

Padmé just sighs. “Anakin, if money is the issue then you know my parents would be happy to help balance the cost--”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, the last thing I need from you is charity ! It’s like you don’t want us to go to the same school, it’s like you want us to be apart!”

“That’s not true! I want you to follow your dream! What I don’t want is for you to downplay your future for a relationship!

“But what if you’re my dream! What if I want you to be my future!”

The air feels thick with the silence that follows, like the whole sterile house is holding its breath. Anakin just breathes heavily and looks at Padmé, eyes wide like he’s been caught in a spotlight, as several different emotions flicker across her face so fast Anakin can’t keep track of them. The expression she eventually settles on is shock, and Anakin hopes to fucking god it’s not the bad kind. “Do you mean like--”

He snatches his phone and his coat off her bed and storms out, ignoring Padmé telling him to wait. He storms down the stairs even as she chases him a few steps behind. He throws the front door open and closed behind him, but when Padmé follows him out onto the front yard, it's too late. He’s already in the car and driving away. 

Hours later, Anakin sulks alone in his room, door shut and sleeping with sirens blasting from his phone on his desk. It’s buzzed a few times over the course of the afternoon, but he hasn’t looked at any of the messages. He lies slumped on his bed, fiddling with an old robotics project from a few years ago that had been sitting out on a shelf. On the other side of the door, he can hear Obi-Wan moving around in the kitchen making dinner, and judging from the light, muffled chatter, Ahsoka is helping him again. 

Part of Anakin wants to go out there and join them, but he just feels like shit and so separates himself, shutting himself away behind the illusionarily impenetrable barrier of his locked bedroom door.

The din is interrupted by a knocking on the unit’s door. He turns his music down, and hears what sounds like-- Padmé’s voice? Anakin jumps up and wrestles his door open to see Padmé standing near the front doorway, talking to Obi-Wan who closes the door behind her. “Padmé!” He dashes over, bumping Obi-Wan out of the way, and Padmé greets him, miraculously, with a smile. “I-- I didn’t think you would still come.” 

Padmé leans up and wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down into a quick hug. “Of course I came,” she says softly, and Anakin melts a little. 

(She’s wearing a light blue crushed velvet top, cropped at her belly button with short sleeves under an open, billowy sheer white blouse, and her white felt peacoat, and a pleated skirt in the same light blue as her top, and white wedge heeled ankle boots. There are matching blue and white plastic butterfly clips in her hair, and she’s redone her makeup to go along with the rest of the outfit, the smokey eye she had on this morning replaced by shimmery blue eyeshadow. On her right arm is her new white Telfar bag, and Anakin can see her fluffy white earmuffs poking out the top. It’s honestly about as casually dressed as Padmé ever gets.) 

A light clicking sound on the laminate floor indicates Threepio’s arrival. The dog noses at Padmé’s leg, panting happily, and Padmé scratches behind his ears. “Aw, I missed you too, Threepio,” she smiles. 

Padmé turns to look at Ahsoka, who is still sitting over on the kitchen stool. “Hi,” She beams, walking over to Ahsoka and switching her purse to her left arm to shake Ahsoka’s hand. “You must be Ahsoka! Ani’s told me so much about you! I’m his girlfriend, Padmé.”

“Wow,” Ahsoka looks starstruck. “You are so much prettier than I expected!” She shakes Padme’s hand vigorously and leans around to say to Anakin, “Geez Skyguy, if you can score a girl like this then there’s hope for anyone!”

“Hey!” Anakin comes over even as Padmé giggles and bops his devilish little sister on the head. “Silence, demon!”

“As lovely as it is to see you again, Padmé,” Obi-Wan spears through their little crowd towards the stove, dispersing them. “I will need you all to vacate the kitchen as I am in the middle of making dinner.” He stirs the curry simmering on the stove, and the three teenagers dutifully shuffle out of the kitchen and settle at the table, already eager for supper to be ready. 

“It smells delicious, Obi-Wan,” Padmé says, and Obi-Wan smiles at her. Even before Anakin and Padmé started dating, she was always the type to be on a first name basis with all the teachers, borderline teacher’s pet, if you feel like teasing her. Really, her and Anakin are practically opposites in so many ways. 

“Thank you, my dear,” he says. “I assume you’ll want a plate?” 

“Yes, please,” Padmé says emphatically, then turns to Ahsoka, who sits on her other side from Anakin, as she takes off her coat and lets it hang on the back of her chair. “So Ahsoka, what do you like? Clothes? Video games? Music? Oh!” Her eyes light up. “We should go shopping!”

Ahsoka looks a little blown away, eyes wide, but nods. “Okay!”

“I assume I’m not invited?” Anakin says, and Padmé and Ahsoka turn their heads in sync and stick their tongues out at him. 

“Duh,” Ahsoka says, “no boys allowed.” 

Anakin laughs. “You guys had better not just trade embarrassing stories about me the whole time.” Between the two of them, they’d absolutely have hours worth. 

Padmé tosses her hair. “Of course not,” she says. “If we just talked about you the whole time, then this fanfiction would come dangerously close to failing the Bechdel test.”

“I don’t know what that means.” 

Padmé pats the back of his hand. “We’ll revisit it later.”

Then her and Ahsoka launch into a conversation as if they’ve already known each other for years, about something that Anakin doesn’t really follow because voices fade to background noise as he props his chin in his hand and just gazes at Padmé, his stomach doing backflips. He doesn't deserve her, he thinks. Guilt gnaws at him. He wishes he hadn’t yelled at her. Even if it felt like she was trying to push him away. If she was trying to put distance between them, why would she still come over for dinner even after they had a fight, and bond with his new little sister, and offer to take her shopping? Why would she come here to engage with his family if she wanted to get away from it?

She’s kind. Kinder than he’ll ever be. Forgiving. She’s too good for him, that he knows for sure, but she won’t give up on him and Anakin would do anything to not have to let her go. 

He’s going to apologize for being an ass. 

After dinner. In case his attempts to apologize go sideways. He knows Padmé loves Obi-Wan’s cooking (everyone he knows does), and it would just be worse to deprive her of it when she’s been away for months. 

Padmé laughs at something Ahsoka said, loud and bright, and the room feels warm. Though that could also be because the stove is on. On the other side of their windows, the air is cold and biting, winter approaching fast, but inside it’s warm and Anakin can smell the curry on the stove that must be almost done by now. He gets a little lost in it, eyes drifting shut and zoning out. He actually feels nice for once, now that Padmé is here. He wishes she could stick around longer. He wishes they could fall asleep next to each other.

At one point when Anakin blinks his eyes back open, Padmé catches his gaze and smiles. 

Obi-Wan brings the food over to the already set table when it’s done, large saucepan of curry and rice on hotpads and they all dig in. Padmé compliments Obi-wan on the food and Obi-wan asks her how she likes university. Anakin stays in his head the whole time, nerves fading in and out like an ambient noise. The rest of the evening passes like in x3 speed. Anakin blinks and suddenly his plate is empty,all that’s left of his dinner is the smears of sauce and the lingering flavours of cumin and coconut in his mouth. Half-numb, he scoops a second helping onto his plate. Obi-Wan wears a pleased smile.

The fog doesn’t lift until Anakin helps Padmé with her coat and offers to walk her down to her car. They pause in the empty stairwell down to the first floor, Anakin gently prompting Padmé to stop with a light touch to her elbow. 

“Um…” he struggles to begin. “I’m, really sorry about earlier today. I shouldn’t have said those things. I mean, the thought still keeps me up at night sometimes, but I know you would never cheat on me.”

Padmé looks down. Anakin can tell that she’s biting the inside of her lip. “When you said that, you, um,” she blushes, “want me to be your future… what did you mean by that?”

“I, ah,” Anakin rubs the back of his neck. “Pretty much exactly what I said? I want to, like, spend the rest of my life with you, and, you know, like… settle down and get married and have babies and stuff.” He trails off into a mumble. “I sort of can’t imagine my future being anything that doesn’t have you in it. And I don’t care if it’s— naive or whatever, either… I just…you make me really happy and... yeah.”

He doesn’t realize he’s been looking down until he feels Padmé take his hands in her smaller ones and he looks back up to see her smiling. 

“You make me really happy too, Ani,” she says. “I really love you. I want all that too.”

Anakin’s eyes light up, a happy glow fills his chest. “Really?”

“Really,” Padmé says, and they start back down the stairs. “Although, maybe no babies for a while, since I have a lot planned for my career, but… someday, I’d really like that. Starting a family with you.” 

“Yeah,” Anakin beams. “Someday.”

“And, I…” Padmé hesitates, “I’m sorry for what I said, too. I just thought… if you felt like you had to choose between MIT and me, and picked me, and then regretted it… I was scared you might come to resent me.”

“I could never resent you for anything,” Anakin quickly replies, and truly means it. “Besides, it really wasn’t a rash decision. I talked about it with principal Sheev and everything.”

“That’s good, I’m glad. Oh! I just remembered,” Padmé says as they reach the bottom of the stairwell. “Has anything else happened with Rex and Key since you saw them dancing at the halloween party?”

“No,” Anakin sighs. “Nothing. Damn, and I really thought something might happen that time… but if anything of significance occurred then Rex would have told me about it. Except, though...” He pauses, his steps faltering on the last stair. “Rex and I haven’t been talking as much lately.”

“Really?” Padmé frowns. “But you’ve always been inseparable.” 

“Yeah, I dunno.” Anakin does know. It’s his fault, just like every fucking thing is. “This year has been stressful.” 

“And with midterms happening right now, I’m sure it is.” They exit the building and walk to where Padmé’s car is, in the visitor parking. “But you’ll be fine, I just know it. You just have to trust.”

“Trust in what?” Anakin says as they stop next to her car. Padmé shrugs, looking up at the sky with a small smiling twist to her mouth. 

“I don’t know. Fate?”

Anakin snorts. “Fate.” 

“Yeah, fate.” Padmé leans up for a kiss, and Anakin wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer and drawing the kiss out. “You do believe in fate, don’t you?” She says as they pull away. 

“I guess,” Anakin says, because Padmé kind of makes him want to believe in stuff like fate. She unlocks her car and opens the door. 

“Bye Ani,” she says as she gets in the car, “we’ll see each other again soon, okay? Love you!”

“Yeah, see ya. Love you too,” Anakin waves as Padmé backs out of the space and drives off. He watches her go until her car is out of sight. 

Chapter Text

His flesh hand is cold. 

Anakin went and dug out his winter coat, but he couldn’t find his gloves, so his bare flesh hand is cold, knuckles pale against the wind. He shoves both his hands deeper into his pockets as he walks, eyeing the shadows that tease him at every corner, in the corner of his eye, down every alley. He’s been going to every place he remembers his mom and him staying— and they moved around a lot, so there’s too many places to check. Corners of streets he doesn’t remember the names of, intersections where his mom would walk between the stopped cars at the red light with an old empty Starbucks cup asking for donations. Every place he remembers there being a tent city that has since been forcefully cleared out, under every overpass that all look the same. 

In between every tooth of the maw of this city that will swallow a person whole. 

No luck. It’s going to start snowing soon. 

Obi-Wan had been disappointed by his midterm report card. He’s going to be even more disappointed by his end of semester report card. Obi-Wan can go shove it, though. Every time he brings up Anakin’s slipping grades Anakin wants to roll his eyes so hard he just passes out. All Obi-Wan cares about is school and grades , Anakin thinks bitterly, kicking a chipped off bit of sidewalk around. Sheev is right. He doesn’t understand what I’m going through. He wouldn’t. 

Obi-Wan was never a fucking disappointment. 

It’s getting dark. The days are getting shorter. Still no sign of his mom. He’s starting to fear the worst. There’s too many ways someone can die living the life they had. Murdered, starved, hit by a car like the fucking roadkill people think they are, falling victim to human trafficking… frozen to death , Anakin thinks as he shivers. 

He’s on his way to a shelter right now. Maybe, even if his mom isn’t there, then at least there might be someone who knows her. 

It’s getting late, it’s almost midnight, and really, they should be sleeping. Their most important game of the whole season is tomorrow— the state final. They’re so close to gold, Rex can taste it, and this year, he's not settling for second place. They are bringing home that trophy. They are claiming those rings.

The hotel rooms they got are two beds to a room, but there are definitely more than two people in here. Fives, Jesse, Hardcase and a few of the other guys are all splayed across various areas of the room, playing Among Us, while Rex reclines on his bed, scrolling on his phone. If he’s gazing forlornly at Key’s Instagram pictures like a 1910’s housewife gazing into a locket that contains a photo of her husband who’s away at war, uncertain of his return, then, well. 

Shut up. 

A loud knock at the door startles all of them into silence. They all exchange looks, already knowing who it is. He does this every year. 

Rex is the one to get up and answer it. When he opens the door Coach Krell’s imposing figure fills the doorway, and then shoulders his way into the room past Rex. Rex does feel a little unnerved that he couldn’t stop Krell from coming in even if he wanted to, but can’t really think of a reason he might have to, so decided it’s better not to dwell on it. 

The coach looks around at all of them with a borderline sneer. “If you aren’t all on your best damn game tomorrow, you won’t like the consequences.” he gets right to it, deep voice booming in the small room. “And everyone should be back in their own rooms. It’s too late to be goofing off. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood right now, but if you aren’t where you’re meant to be in another half hour you won’t be getting off so easy. You all know the stakes hanging on tomorrow’s game. Do not fail.” 

And with that vaguely-threatening ‘pep talk’, Krell turns on his heel and stalks back out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Rex re-locks it and turns to look at the rest of the guys in the room. 

“That was Krell’s good mood?” Fives blinks. 

“His version of a good mood.” Jesse grumbles, getting up from the bed. 

“You all should probably head out,” Rex says, and everyone groans and gets up, shuffling out the door in almost single file, leaving just Rex and Fives left. 

Fives climbs under his covers and Rex sighs, turning off the lights and getting into his own bed. “Goodnight, Fives,” he says into the darkness, turning onto his side. Behind him, he hears Fives rustling. 

“G'night,” his little brother says. A minute passes, and Rex closes his eyes, trying to get to sleep as soon as possible. But then Fives speaks up again,

“Rex?”

“Yeah?” Rex grunts. 

“I’m nervous.”

“About the game?” 

“Yeah.” 

Rex turns over the other way to face Fives, even though he can’t see him in the dark. “That’s fine. It’s normal to be nervous. But you don’t need to be, you’re gonna do great.”

“You think so?” Fives’ voice sounds small. He hears sheets shifting again. 

“I know so.” Another moment of Rex just looking up at the dark ceiling, not tired. 

“Thanks, Rex,” Fives whispers. “G’night.”

Then the room falls into silence and Rex is left alone with his thoughts and the sound of his own heartbeat. He closes his eyes. 

They open again of their own volition, spring loaded without the weight of exhaustion to pull them down. Rex signs and turns his head to look at the clock on the bedside table. Fifteen minutes have ticked by. 

“I can’t sleep,” he says, sitting up and pushing the covers off. “I’m gonna go for a walk.” 

Fives just grunts, probably half asleep already. Rex gets up and slips on his shoes and a hoodie, and grabs the room key before going out into the hallway. It’s brightly lit all hours, and there are no windows, a timeless liminal space. He picks a random direction and walks. 

It really isn’t much of a walk. There’s nothing to see. Nowhere to go other than a different floor. But Rex just needs to move a little before he can sleep. He always feels better when he’s been active. Rex turns a corner. At the end of the hallway next to the emergency exit, a potted plant has been displaced. From behind it Rex can see the toes of a pair of bright white sneakers poking out, and the vague form of somebody curled up behind it. 

As he gets closer, he starts to hear sniffles and muffled hiccuping sobs. 

“Hey,” Rex gently calls out as he approaches. “Are, are you okay?” 

The sound of crying doesn’t quite stop but it sounds like whoever it is tries harder to stifle it. He reaches the end of the hallway and peers behind the plant. 

It’s Keasha, hunched over on the floor, crying into her crossed arms. She doesn’t stop when he kneels down in front of her, but she does look up, tears streaming down her face, eyes red and puffy. Alarm flashes through him. 

“Are you okay?” Rex repeats even though she’s very clearly not okay. 

Keasha sniffles and wipes at her cheeks with the heel of her palm, smearing the wet tracks of tears shining on her dark skin. “ No ,” she bites out. “I can’t— it always— I always—“ 

“Hey,” Rex tries to be soothing, holding his hands out palms open, but doesn’t try to touch her. “It’s okay. What happened?” 

“It’s not okay!” Keasha snaps through a fresh wave of tears. “I failed the squad— again— I said I’d— but I can’t do anything— useless—“

“You’re not useless,” Rex says. “What’s going on? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Keasha pinches her mouth shut, a new distressed twist appearing in her brow. She looks to the side. “No one can help us.” She says, voice caught between bitterness and hopelessness. A million half formed questions race through Rex’s mind, but none of them make sense. “I— sorry, I— I’m not supposed to— I can’t talk about it.” 

Rex frowns. “Keasha, what is it? Is ‘us’ the whole cheer squad? Are you guys in danger?” 

Keasha hides her face in her knees again. “Please leave,” she says. Rex’s frown deepens. Is she dodging the question? 

“Keash—“ 

“Leave me alone!” She kicks blindly at him, the bottom of her sneaker colliding with his knee and he falls back on his ass, stunned. 

“Are y—“ Are you sure? He wants to say, but Keasha curls further in on herself and snaps,

“Just go!”

Reluctantly, Rex stands, tucking his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and turning. As he walks away, he hears Keasha start to cry harder. Rex turns the corner and goes back to his room. 

When he gets back, Fives is fully asleep. He toes his shoes off and climbs back into his bed, 

He stares up at the ceiling again, like he’d never even moved. His heart is racing now. What is going on with Keasha? The cheer squad? Are they okay? 

Is Key okay?

Rex doesn’t sleep. 

The next morning, when Rex sees Keasha from across the lobby, she looks completely normal. Smiling wide and bright eyed, like nothing in the world is wrong at all. 

His heart races, beating in his chest so hard it feels like it’s trying to punch its way out as the team huddles in the stadium tunnel. Rex can’t tell if it’s the nerves, or the huge amount of coffee he consumed to stay awake. 

He can hear the crowd chanting and stomping their feet outside in the stadium. This is it. The state championship. They’re either going big or going home. 

The air is cold and crisp but Rex is already sweating. The team jostles against each other in the cramped tunnel, their breath fogging in front of their faces, anxious to get the game started. 

Rex’s breath rattles in his helmet. The cheer squad is gathered right in front of them, ready to run out on the call with their banner. His eyes land on the back of Key’s head, shifting side to side. Key turns around to look at him, and smiles. 

“You guys are going to be awesome,” he whispers under the cacophonic clamouring, like he can read the nerves sparking like bad wires on Rex’s face. “I just know it.” 

Rex’s face feels frozen. He swallows heavily, and nods. Instinctively, he turns his head to glance back at Coach Krell, and shuffles away from Key when the coach’s gaze lands on him.

Then the announcer’s voice cuts through the fog and everyone is running. The cheerleaders run out onto the field first, waving their pompoms and cheering as loud as they can to compete with the sound of the band playing their hearts out and the crowd on their feet. The players come running out hot on their heels, thumping their chests with their fists and throwing their hands in the air, getting the crowd even more hyped up. Their school’s and team’s name echoes throughout the stadium, and Rex’s lungs fill with air as he looks up and out at all the bright stadium lights outshining the stars. This. This is one of his favourite parts.

The other team comes running out, then, the Kamino Prep Egrets, from Jersey city. They’re all-- long is probably the best word to describe them, their shortest player probably still taller than Axe, their tallest, but none of them have much in the way of bulk, almost as lanky as runners. It seems like it wouldn’t make sense how they absolutely kicked their asses last year because that, but those Egrets are just ruthless . They swan about the field in a wide circle, getting the exact same hype from their side of the stands as the Troopers did. 

Coach Krell grabs his shoulder to draw him and the others into the pre-game huddle. Everyone leans in as the roar rises higher, and the nerves all settle, solidifying into the focused, headstrong mindset Rex needs to win this game.

“I can’t believe I was dragged into this,” Obi-Wan says primly from his place in the stands, pulling his coat closed tighter around himself as they all stand, looking down at the miniature figures running around on the grass below them. Their team is blue, right? Blue and white? And the other is silver and black. He’s already confused. “Why am I here, again?”

“Someone had to drive me,” Ashoka breathes on her hands and rubs them together. She bounces in place next to him, her own energy already mounting in tune with that of the crowd. Obi-Wan stays still, thank you, except for when he sways a little to the side when Cody playfully elbows him. 

“Because it’s atrocious that you’ve taught at Coruscant north for almost ten years and you haven’t been to a single game,” his friend teases him from his other side. “Might as well start with the big one.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Obi-Wan grumbles, pulling his sleeves over his hands. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve ever been to any of our fencing tournaments, and those are year round, you know.” He flicks his bangs back, and is surprised when it looks like Cody actually starts to seriously consider that fact. The crowd finally starts to sit back down, and Ahsoka pokes him repeatedly on the shoulder. 

“Shh, the game’s about to start!” 

“Listen up,” Krell barks. “I want no repeats of last year, got it? No humiliation, no failure! You’re going to go out there and make that other team your bitch! Kill them if you have to--” He snarls, “We’re taking that gold home, no matter what!”

“Sir, yes sir!” The team shouts in unison, and they break off towards the starting line. 

Rex can see the other team sizing them up, and he puffs his chest out as he gets into place. They don’t even matter. The Troopers are going to bowl right over them and take this championship. No matter what.

Everyone gets into place, and the whistle blows. The whole field immediately erupts into motion.

The Troopers take the ball and run it down the field--

Kamino Prep intercepts it on a pass and throws it towards the endzone--

It falls short and one of their defence scoops it up--

Passes it to Jesse who runs it back the other way--

Who gets tackled and the Egrets have the ball again--

Their guy gets taken down by Fives and it’s their ball--

Fives passes to their runningback who sprints down the field--

Flanked by right and left guard--

Who block more attempts from Kamino Prep to dogpile him--

Getting dragged down themselves in the process--

Leaving the runningback sprinting alone down the field--

Kamino Prep defence catches up with him--

Their runningback makes a last second throw to Rex further down the field as he’s taken down--

And Rex runs so fast his feet barely touch the ground straight into the endzone. 

He slams the ball down past the goal line and jumps back up as the crowd roars again at their first touchdown of the game, and Rex grins broadly as his teammates swarm around him. They’ve got this.

“What’s going on?” Obi-Wan leans forward in his seat. They’re a little more than halfway through the game and the only thing he can really keep track of are the numbers on the scoreboard. Ahsoka and Cody, though, are enthralled, practically jumping up at every little thing. To be quite honest, part of the reason Obi-Wan is struggling to follow the game isn’t just because he doesn’t know how American football works, but because he may or may not be spending more time watching Cody then the actual game. 

Cody leans in and whispers to him that the other team scored a touchdown and then went for a two-point conversion, which put them in the lead. Obi-Wan doesn’t know what a two point conversion is, but he likes the way that Cody explains it to him. The referee blows his whistle and then all the little high schoolers are running around on the field again. To Obi-Wan it looks completely random, but it obviously means something to Cody, because the man is on the edge of his seat, one hand fisted in front of his mouth and the other tapping on his knee, a furrow in his brow. 

Obi-Wan quietly studies his profile while Cody’s attention is fixed on the field. Every time something happens he clenches his fist or jumps a little in his seat, and Obi-Wan kind of regrets not going to any games before only if it means he was missing this. Cody seems so lively right now, immersed in something he's so passionate about, and Obi-Wan feels like an idiot. 

When Cody winces and draws back, Obi-Wan tries to look like he was paying attention to the game the whole time. 

Down on the field, everyone is gathered around one end of the field and not moving. “Is this bad?” 

Ahsoka is chewing her nails. Obi-Wan absentmindedly slaps her hand away from her mouth. Cody nods grimly. 

“Kamino Prep just scored another touchdown,” he says, “and Rex is hurt.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan looks back down at the field and sees a player in white and blue struggling to their feet, cradling their arm close to their body. 

Rex hisses as he stands, cradling his throwing arm against his chest. The enemy linebacker that had bowled him over smirks at him as he turns away, until he's blocked from view by his teammates and everyone swarming around him. “Where does it hurt,” the doctor asks him as he comes running up, “your hand, your arm, or your shoulder?”

“My shoulder,” Rex grunts. He landed hard on it, and felt the sharp jolt of pain as soon as he hit the ground. 

They usher him off the field as everyone watches. Rex’s breath hitches every time he moves his arm. They pass the cheerleaders who are all now standing still on the turf, and he glances over to see Key in the back take an aborted step towards him before ultimately staying where he is.

Cody watches them bring his little brother off the field, his leg jittering anxiously. Ahsoka pinches her lip with a worried furrow in her brow. Obi-Wan pulls at a loose thread in the sleeve of his coat, trying to get a better look at what has happened. The crowd murmurs, far from silent, but in contrast to the earlier cheers, it’s as if there’s not a sound. “Is it going to be very bad?” Obi-Wan leans over and asks Cody in a whisper.

Cody shakes his head. “Any injury in this game can be really bad,” he says, “we just have to hope there isn’t going to be permanent damage.” 

Obi-Wan glances down at the field. Rex is no longer in view. There’s little else to do now but wait and see what happens. 

“Rex is tough,” Ahsoka’s voice blends into every other whisper that ripples across the stands. “He’ll be fine.”

Beside him, Cody’s anxiety seems to rise, and Obi-Wan turns to him. He places a hand on Cody’s knee to calm his jittering leg, the limb immediately going completely still at the touch. Cody’s skin is perfectly warm through his jeans despite the cold air, and ironically, it sends a shiver up Obi-Wan’s spine that really he doesn’t need right now or ever but this is not the time to dwell on these unhelpful feelings. 

Cody’s eyes lock with his, and Obi-Wan gives him his best reassuring look that he’s perfected in all his years of teaching. 

“Ahsoka is right. He’s going to be just fine, you’ll see. Believe in him.”

After a second, Cody nods, eyes wide, and another second later looks back down at the field. Down below, people who Obi-Wan doesn’t know what their jobs are are talking about things he probably wouldn’t understand, so he keeps his attention where it’s actually needed. He reaches his other hand out to steady Ahsoka’s hunched shoulder, and she relaxes. He gives Cody’s knee a gentle squeeze. Obi-Wan doesn’t look, but he feels Cody place a warm hand on his chilled one.

Obi-Wan is the one to turn his hand and lace their fingers together.

Tucked away in a corner inside that’s somehow both too dim and too bright, the doctors hover over him while Rex lies back on the table. “Your shoulder is partially dislocated,” one of them tells him. He’s wearing glasses. Rex tries to picture him in a lab coat. “I can put it back in place, but I still recommend you sit out the rest of the game.” 

“No,” Rex grunts, instinctively trying to sit up as his chest tightens in alarm. The other doctor eases him back down. “I have to finish the game.” 

“You’re sure, son?” The doctor says. “I don’t have painkillers--”

“I can’t quit now,” Rex grits out. Another stab of pain in his shoulder rocks him. “I have to keep playing.”

The doctor seems to hesitate, but something in Rex’s eyes must convince him. “Alright,” he sighs, and firmly grabs Rex’s shoulder. Rex bites back a  wince. “One, two…”

Before three the doctor pops his shoulder back into place and Rex swallows a yelp, but even as the joint throbs the feeling of looseness goes away, and he sits up, breathing carefully through his nose. 

Cheers erupt on the sidelines and in the stands as Rex jogs back out onto the field. His shoulder still hurts every time he moves it, and there’s a pins and needles feeling in his fingertips, but he pushes that down and rejoins his team where they’re huddled on the sidelines.

“Good to see you man up, 75,” Krell pulls him into the huddle by a grip on his hurt shoulder, and Rex hides his grimace. “Now, men, I want to see big plays out there-- if you’re going to take this game back you’re going to have to take risks! No wimping around, no pussyfooting, no half-assing throws. Push until they break and keep pushing!”

“Sir yes sir!” The team yells and scatters towards the starting line. Rex shakes his aching arm out as he gets into place. Fives comes running up to him.

“Rex, are you okay?” His little brother asks. Rex nods. 

“I’m fine. Just keep your head in the game and play your best, don’t worry about me, okay?”

Fives nods and puts his mouthguard in, running over to his place in the line, and Rex does the same. 

The seconds where both teams stand battle ready at the line, just staring at each other in silence, are tense. That tension erupts when the ref blows his whistle and the ball is in the air. The Troopers snatch it before Kamino Prep can even look at it, running it back and around the other team’s defence. Rex takes off running with the rest of them, feet pounding on the ground in time with the beating of his heart and the dull pulses of pain radiating from his shoulder.

Less than ten seconds left in the game, and they’re one touchdown away from taking that win. Rex catches his breath, looking up at the barely-uneven in Kamino Preps favour scoreboard, and the seven seconds left on the clock.

“We need to get the ball all the way to the end of the field as fast as possible,” Rex tells the team. “Eighteen yard cross. I’ll pull the ball back and throw it to—“ he looks around at the huddle. “Fives, you’re our fastest runner. I’m going to pass the ball to you, and you gotta be at the endzone to catch it.”

Fives pales. “I don’t know if I can—“ 

“You can .” Rex grabs his shoulder and makes him look him in the eye. “You can. I know you can.” He turns his head to look at Jesse and Hardcase. “Jesse, you protect Fives so he can make that touchdown. Hardcase, if any of the enemy team tries to intercept you take them the fuck down.”

Then he addresses the team as a whole. “We’re all a part of this. We’re going to win this thing, together.” 

Everyone nods resolutely, and they get into place for what will have to be the last play of the game. Of the season. This is The One. 

Fives seems to hesitate in his place, and Rex stops halfway through his turn to ruffle his little brother’s curls. “I know it’s a lot of pressure,” he says softly. “But I believe in you. You got this.” 

“Okay,” Fives gulps, but the shakiness leaves him as he pulls his helmet on. He runs back to the line, and once he’s gone from Rex’s line of sight, Rex sees far off on the sidelines, Krell watching him like a hawk. 

It may be on Fives to make the goal, but this was Rex’s call. If they don’t make this, it’s going to be him taking the heat. 

When the whistle blows its as if the world shifts into slow motion. Rex feels every millisecond sip away from them like little marbles of mercury rolling off polished stone as the ball is snapped to him. He’s already backing up before it lands in his hands, running wide to clear the tidal wave that is the other team coming towards him. 

Players crash into each other and fall around him, locking around each other, either doing everything to stop him or doing everything to help him. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Fives sprinting down the field, tailed by one of Kamino prep’s defence. Rex locks his eye on the endzone and draws back to throw.

Even as pain shoots down his arm Rex grits his teeth and fights not to falter. He puts all his strength into that throw and the seconds tick down as the ball soars through the air. 

So far away Rex sees Fives back up with his eyes glued to the ball. The defence jumps at him but Jesse takes the guy down right at Fives’ feet. The ball sails closer, closer, down, down, down… 

4… 

3…

2…  

Fives jumps backwards and snatches the ball out of the air and lands just inside the endzone right as the clock ticks down to one and the horn blares.

“TOUCHDOWN!” Their whole half of the stands erupts into cheers as everyone who can jumps to their feet, deafening, filling the arena to the brim with noise.

Rex pulls his helmet off and lets the cold night’s breeze wash over him, cooling the sweat on his skin as he turns and looks up at the scoreboard. 

We won!

He runs to the end of the field where his team is swarming Fives, lifting the kid into the air and chanting his name. He joins in as he joins the crowd, his grin splitting his face in half. They won! For the first time in ten years , they finally won state!

Rex glances over at the cheer squad going insane at the edge of the field as the band starts to play, wildly waving their pompoms in the air, jumping up and down and doing high kicks because they all like to do that when they’re excited for some reason but it's endearing, cheering their hearts out. 

Simmering right under his cloud nine, the underlying feeling of dread returns.

After the game, Rex wades through a sea of people congratulating him and the team. Ahsoka comes crashing through ahead of the group she came with, running right up to him.

“Rex, are you okay?” Is the first thing she says, eyes huge and earnest as both Cody and Mr. Kenobi come up behind her. 

“Yeah, yeah kid, I’m okay.” Rex smiles. He pats her head right in between her two poofy blue and white buns. 

“What did you do to your arm?” Cody says, face hard and stern. Rex gulps. 

“It, uh… partial dislocation.” 

Cody smacks him upside the head and Rex yelps, glaring at his older brother out of the corner of his eye. 

“What was that for!”

“Why the hell did you keep playing! You could end your entire football career because of an aggravated injury, you know that!” Cody barks at him. But Rex just deflates because he knows this is how Cody shows his family that he cares. “It was because of that damn coach, wasn’t it?”

For some reason, Rex instinctively tries to defend him. Even though Cody is right. “Coach Krell didn’t tell me to--”

“But it was because of him, wasn’t it?” Cody insists, and Rex looks down. Cody sighs. “Get that arm in a sling as soon as you can, okay?”

Rex nods. Cody pulls him into a warm, tight hug. “I'm proud of you, Rex,” he whispers as he squeezes him. Rex smiles and returns the hug, then pulls away. “Where’s Fives?” 

Rex points over his shoulder, where Fives is basking in the praise and attention from the cheerleaders all cooing over him. Cody leaves in that direction to congratulate Fives on his winning goal, and Mr. Kenobi steps up. 

“Cody is right, you know,” he says. “I injured my knee in university and haven’t been able to fence competitively since. It really is the smallest thing that can do so much damage, so make sure to take care of that shoulder, alright? That being said, you did very well. I always knew you had exceptional leadership skills.”

Rex nods. “Yessir, thank you,” he says, then looks around. “Uh, is, is Skywalker in the bathroom or something?”

Ahsoka winces, and Mr. Kenobi shifts awkwardly. Neither of them has to say it for Rex to realize, his good mood all but evaporating and being replaced by storm clouds forming behind his ribs. “He… didn’t come along,” Mr. Kenobi’s voice is laced with apology. “He said he was too busy to go out of town, but when I asked why he wouldn’t elaborate… I’m sorry.” 

“Oh.” Rex glances down. “Alright.” Mr. Kenobi looks sympathetic. Rex just tries to shrug the attention off, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. 

Anakin has been… different, lately. Angrier. Anakin has always been a little angry but for a while now it’s been like he’s… slipping. And Rex understands, he does, he knows sometimes people have rough patches and… well, he tries not to be mad. But after missing that first game, his friend had promised not to miss any more, which either he failed to keep or he never intended to for whatever reason, because he hasn’t come to another game since. And this was State.

Rex can’t reconcile the person Anakin is right now with the person Anakin was four months ago. It’s like someone else is walking around in his friend’s body, someone standoffish and mean.

Mr. Kenobi looks up over Rex’s shoulder and back at him quickly. “Ah, you know what, I think I’m going to go have a little chat with Mr. Krell. Ahsoka, would you like to come spectate?”

“Hell yes,” Ahsoka grins, and Mr. Kenobi pulls her away just as there’s a tap on Rex’s shoulder. He turns, and sees Key standing there in a thick lined denim coat that further rounds out his figure, a small, shy smile on his face.

“Hey,” Key tucks some hair behind his ear. Rex really wants to run his fingers through it. He abstains. “You guys did really great today.”

“Thanks,” Rex tries for a smile, but his heart’s not in it. Key tilts his head at him, a concerned little crinkle appearing between his eyebrows. 

“What’s wrong?” The cheerleader asks. “You guys just won state, kinda thought you’d be jumping for joy right now-- or at least as close as your lil introverted ass would get.”

Rex sighs. “My best friend promised he would come to this game, but he didn’t.” He scuffs at the ground with the toe of his sneaker. Key hums, and looks up at the sky with a little frown like he's thinking hard. 

“The same best friend who ditched you at the halloween party?” He says, and Rex pauses.

“No-- I-- yeah.” He sighs again. He almost forgot about that specific element of that evening, since it got so overshadowed by what happened before and after. “That one.” 

“That really sucks.” Key says. “And weird. I mean, I’ve had an eye on Anakin ever since he wore a Punisher shirt to school, but he’s always seemed like at least a nice person. Someone who cares about his friends. I wonder if he’s okay?”

Rex shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk about it. I kind of just want to go home, at this point.”

“That’s fine.” Key’s eyes dart from side to side, as if he’s checking for watchers. Then he slides in close, even batting his eyelashes, and Rex blushes profusely at the sudden proximity. “You really did play super well today,” he murmurs, and Rex’s eyes widen. “I don’t understand a damn thing about football and I could tell that much. Wish I could give you your own special little prize…” 

Key’s smile is twisting and mischievous, looking up at Rex through his lashes, and Rex feels himself turn red from his hairline to his toes. 

“Ah-- ha,” Rex wheezes, brain not functioning, and then like a switch flipped Key leans back out of his space, sighing airily like he hadn’t just… done that. 

“But alas.” Key flicks his bangs out of his face. “I’m sure you can imagine any sort of thing it might have been.” 

Rex tries not to just trail after Key like a lost puppy as he backs up. “That was mean,” he croaks, and Key smirks. 

“You’re cute,” he snickers. And it seems this is a thing Key just does , teases him and then scampers off before Rex can catch up, because then he spins on his heel, blows Rex a kiss over his shoulder, and skips off back towards the crowd. But right at the last second, Rex remembers something important, and calls out, 

“Key, wait!” Key stops and turns back to him. Rex leans in and asks, “Did something happen to the cheer squad last night?” 

Key just looks up at him, face completely blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says flatly, and then he really does leave, gone and disappeared into the sea of people before Rex can ask him what that means.

When the football team pulls up to school with their shiny new state championship rings and a fresh swagger in their step, a light sprinkle of snow falls from the sky. There’s a tension in the air that maybe only Rex can feel.

His arm is in a sling, just like it’s supposed to be. It’s only temporary, and he can still use it, just not that much.

When he sees Anakin in the hallway before school starts, Rex stops in place, every emotion he’s felt in the last months suddenly resurging in an incredible tidal wave within him. 

“Whoa,” Anakin says when he sees him, faltering a little. “What happened to your arm, dude?” 

“You’d know if you had been at the game,” Rex snaps, surprising himself. Anakin takes a step back, palms out. 

“Whoa, jeez, okay.” He says slowly. “Look, I’m sorry, alright?”

“No!” Rex yells. He ignores the people that are starting to linger around them, whispering. He doesn't know what the hell is wrong with him. Anakin is just sort of floating before him like an apparition, angry and disaffected at once, and something inside him can’t stop itself from lashing out at his friend. “It’s not alright!” 

“Well shit, then, what do you want me to say!” Anakin doesn’t hesitate to shout back-- his short fuse, at least, is still the same. “Look, Obi-Wan was mad about my grades and made me stay home and study, alright, I’m sorry I missed it!”

Rex seethes. “Mr. Kenobi said you told him you were too busy! So what, you’re just lying to my face now? What the fuck, man!”

Anakin throws his hands up in apparent frustration. “Fine, fine ! I was too busy! There! It’s really not that big of a deal!”

“It is a big deal!” Rex cries out. “It was important to me, and you-- you weren’t there ! Fuck, you’re not even here !”

“The fuck does that even mean!”

“I don’t know! You just-- it’s like you're suddenly on a different plane of existence from the rest of us and all we can see of you is a semi-opaque reflection! You’re shut off! What is even going on with you, what had you so busy you couldn’t be at the most important game I’ve ever played, why won’t you just talk to me !”

“Fuck off!” Anakin shouts, his voice bouncing off the lockers and the painted brick walls. A circle of people has formed around them, now. “It’s none of your fucking business, okay, you wouldn’t understand! No one understands! You can’t! Your life is just so perfect!! ‘Oh, look at me, I’m Rex and I’m a football star! We just won state because I’m so awesome and everyone loves me and my life is just so perfect!!” His best friend mocks venomously. Rex can’t fucking believe it.

“My life is perfect?!” He yells incredulously. “Are you out of your mind! I can’t even— just— ugh! Just fuck you man, what the hell is wrong with you!”

“Everything is fucking wrong with me, duh! That’s kind of all anyone will ever tell me at this point!” Anakin roars. Rex shakes his head.

“Get your head out of your ass! You keep talking like you’re some victim but you’re the one being a total dick!”

“I’m not the dick here! Everyone else is the fucking dick! Everyone is turning their backs on me!”

“Because you’ve turned into some kind of monster! There are people that care about you and all you do is tell us to fuck off! You’re breaking promises and brushing off commitments so you can go have your white boy angst fest in the rain or whatever and—”

“Well now you’re just making me feel like an asshole!”

“Because you’re acting like an asshole!”

“Just leave me alone, fuck! You don’t know me, no one actually cares about me! No one has ever really cared about me since I was taken from my mom!”

Rex runs a fed up hand over his buzzed hair. “Not everything is always about you! Why the fuck do you always turn every conversation into being about you and your problems, all I wanted from you was a sincere fucking apology!”

“I already apologized!”

“That was sincere as fuck all!” Rex catches his breath. “Admit it, you just don’t give a shit about your friends anymore!” 

Anakin punches a locker and everyone jumps back. It dents, and Rex hears someone in the crowd mutter, ‘if he reaches for his backpack I’m fucking out of here.’   

“That’s not true!” Anakin advances on him, and Rex takes a step back. “It’s not! You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

Suddenly, a booming voice splits the crowd around them like the red sea. “What’s going on here!” Vice Principal Windu comes storming down the hall towards them, and Anakin just glares darkly at the man before bodily shoving past Rex and pushing his way into the crowd of onlooking students, disappearing around the corner. “Fuck you!” He yells back at them, and then he’s gone. VP Windu looks questioningly at Rex, who can feel his breath rattling in his ears as whispers start to rise around him. 

His hands shake.

Rex says nothing. 

Chapter Text

If there’s one thing that Obi-Wan usually loves about winter break, it’s the peace and quiet. Obi-Wan longs for peace and quiet like he longs for almost nothing else. 

This break has been quiet, without a doubt, but it’s a sullen, heavy quiet. A calm-before-the-storm quiet, a kind of quiet that swings over your head like the sword of damocles. The two weeks started rocky-- Obi-Wan had told Anakin not to go out until he’s caught up on schoolwork, and Anakin had protested, shouting at him, and Obi-Wan had-- and he’s not proud of this-- shouted back. Since then the quiet has been tense, like you can hear every shard of glass they walk on crunching under the soles of their shoes. 

It won’t be much longer before the skin is broken and there’s blood on the floor.

January 1st is going to be a welcomed reprieve from it. Not that it’s going to be quiet at all, or perhaps even that relaxing, but Obi-Wan is eager to spend some time around people he likes, out of the house and away from the landmine that Anakin has become.

Because on this day, the very first day of the new year, he and Ahsoka are going to Numa Fett’s birthday party.

He received the email invitation from Waxer— him, Waxer and Boil correspond via email regularly now— a few weeks ago, telling him that Numa’s birthday is on the new year, but since it’s over the break few of her school friends are in town or available, so it’s more of a family thing, and would he like to come? 

Obi-Wan isn’t sure why he would be invited if it’s a family thing, but Ahsoka was also invited independently from him, so he may as well go. 

He’d responded to the email asking what Numa’s reading level is. 

He presses the buzzer at the door, and a young, high pitched voice answers, tinny through the speaker. “Hiii!”

“Hello, Miss Numa,” Obi-Wan says. On the other end, there’s an excited gasp. 

“Mr. Jesus?” 

Obi-Wan sighs. It seems as though that's going to be a Thing. “Yes, it’s Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, will you please let us up?” 

“Okay!” 

The door buzzes, and they go inside the building, taking the elevator up to the fourth floor.

“Here we are,” Obi-Wan says when they arrive at the unit, and knocks on the door. The door is almost immediately opened by a woman who appears middle aged, with long blonde curly hair and white roots, dressed like someone who lives on the beach. She has the same brown skin and same strong wide nose as every other Fett Obi-Wan has met, and he concludes she must be a relative. Over her shoulder, Obi-Wan sees the chaos that awaits them inside. A handful of small children run around on the living room floor, ricocheting off of couches and chairs and tables and walls as they scream and laugh. They weave around the legs of the adults that stand around with non-alcoholic drinks in hand. Obi-wan recognizes most of them, he thinks-- immediately he spots Cody standing near the window. The whole place is bright and colourful, just full of light and laughter. It practically beckons them against the winter cold outside.

“Hello,” he smiles. 

The woman just looks at him for a moment, expression unchanging. Obi-Wan tries not to shift under her stare. She also has incredibly buff arms. Then, instead of responding to his greeting, she turns and shouts to the room with a strong kiwi accent, “Whose white man is this?” 

Obi-Wan bites back a sputter as he looks back to the room and realizes that yes, he is the only white person present at this gathering, and Ahsoka snickers next to him as every head in the apartment swivels towards them. “Oh, that one’s Cody’s,” Boil shouts back from inside, and Waxer adds on, “Yeah, Cody’s.” He sees Cody punch them both on the shoulder. 

Alerted to their presence, Numa comes running over, wrapping her arms around his legs with a huge grin on her face. “Hi Ahsoka! Hi Mr. Jesus! Welcome aboard!”

She pulls them inside past the scary buff woman, who shuts the door behind them. Numa is wearing a little plastic tiara on her head and a crooked pair of sparkly blue costume fairy wings. 

“Happy birthday, Numa,” Ahsoka smiles and hands the girl her present, and Obi-Wan does the same. 

“Yes, happy birthday, dear. Also, my name isn’t Jesus.”

Numa gasps and takes the wrapped gifts with shining eyes. “Thank you!” 

“How old are you now, Numa?” Ahsoka asks. 

“Nine!” Numa runs the presents over to the table pushed against the wall already covered in gifts, then turns back around and holds up nine fingers. “I’m in grade three!”

“Congratulations,” Obi-Wan says, and Numa beams happily at him before rejoining her younger cousins in whatever game they're playing-- something that involves lots of yelling. Some more of the adults step up to greet them at the door. Obi-Wan starts by offering his hand to shake to the woman who opened the door. 

“Hello,” he repeats. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is my ward, Ahsoka Tano.” 

Ahsoka waves. 

The woman takes his hand an incredibly firm, calloused grip. “Arla Fett,” she says. “You’re the english teacher, right?” 

The english teacher? “Er, yes, I am,” he says. “You’ve heard of me?” 

Arla doesn’t respond to that question, just looks him up and down with an assessing eye. “Meh,” she says, and turns to pat Cody on the shoulder. “Could be worse,” she says to him. Cody drops his face into his hand. Arla turns to Ahsoka next, apparently done with Obi-wan. 

“Hey, kid,” she says, expression much softer and more open. “You're the one that Rex said is his honorary little sister, yeah?”

Ahsoka nods. “That’s me!”

“Alright,” Arla grins, “Do you like to surf?”

“I’ve never been surfing,” Ahsoka says earnestly. Arla sighs and shakes her head. 

“That’s just a shame,” Arla puts an arm around Ahsoka’s shoulders and leads her away. Obi-Wan hears her say as they leave, “Rex and the other teens are in the kitchen, let’s go say hi.”

Waxer and Boil close in on him, drawing him further inside. “That’s our aunt Arla,” they say, “she and her wife live in Aotearoa, we all visit every summer. She’s a queen.” 

“She doesn’t seem to like me much,” Obi-Wan says. Cody comes up around his other shoulder. 

“She likes you just fine,” Cody says. “If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have let you inside.” 

“I see,” Obi-Wan nods along but doesn’t really fully believe it. That’s fine. He doesn’t need Cody’s aunt to like him. He doesn’t. 

Cody shoots both his younger brothers a look before turning back to Obi-Wan. “I didn’t know you would be here,” he says, and Obi-Wan stops in place. 

“Oh, if I’m intruding then I am so, so sorry,” he quickly says, “I received an email--”

“No, no you’re fine,” Cody is fast to reassure him, his cheeks a little darker than usual, “It was just a surprise. If I knew you guys were coming I would have dressed nicer,” he chuckles. 

Cody’s shirt is pale in the front from old sawdust. Obi-Wan is wearing a nice blazer and a nice button up, and in between the two, a sweater he secretly wouldn’t mind if it got puked on, because it is a child’s birthday party and it’s better to be safe than sorry. 

“A pleasant surprise, I hope,” Obi-Wan all but winks, and Cody makes a sound that could either be a laugh or a cough, his cheeks darkening further. Obi-Wan is utterly charmed. 

“Yeah, of course,” Cody says. Behind their backs, Waxer and Boil exchange a look. 

Arla brings Ahsoka into the kitchen, where they find her friends gathered around, leaning against and sitting on the counters, taking turns throwing caramel popcorn and catching it in their mouths while an older woman with pink hair judges each one. 

“Hey, Ahsoka’s here!” Hardcase jumps down and runs over to them, and the rest of her friends greet her in an echoing chorus of her name like the seagulls in Finding Nemo. “Hi guys!” She waves back. Arla unhooks from her and goes over to the pink-haired woman and plants a short kiss on the woman’s lips, who returns it quickly before smiling at her. 

Ahsoka tries not to stare, but her eyes widen nonetheless. Arla looks back at her and says, “This is my wife, Sipho. Sipho, this is Rex’s friend Ahsoka.”

“Hi Ahsoka,” Sipho says, her crows feet deepening as she smiles.

“Whoa,” Ahsoka says, slack jawed, then shakes her head and blinks fast. “I mean, cool! Uh, hello!” She gives a thumbs up, and inwardly cringes. Sipho laughs. 

“Ahsoka is a baby lesbian,” Rex clarifies for her.

“I thought so,” Arla smiles, “it was the monster high doll aesthetic that clued me in.” 

“You look cool, kid,” Sipho says, and Ahsoka flushes.

“Th-thanks,” she smiles shyly. “Hey, can I have some popcorn?” 

“Yes, catch,” Echo with the bowl grabs a piece and pulls back to toss it at her, and Ahsoka leans her head back and catches it in her mouth when he tosses the popcorn her way. Everyone in the kitchen cheers and she puts her fists in the air triumphantly as she chews the popcorn. 

“What are you guys doing,” a new, young voice grumbles in the doorway behind her, and everyone cheers the same way they did when she caught the popcorn. 

“Eyy, Boba!” 

Ahsoka turns to see the teen coming into the kitchen. Boba is shorter than her— barely— his dark curly hair sitting on top of his head like a little mop, face set in a pout that might be permanent. 

“Hey Boba, catch!” Fives grabs a piece of popcorn and tosses it at his little brother. Boba doesn’t react and it bounces off his forehead. 

Hardcase throws another one and it hits his cheek. Boba huffs and goes over to the fridge. “This is harassment,” he says. 

“Aw, what are you gonna do, tiktok about it?” Jesse snickers, and Boba flips him the bird from behind the fridge door. 

“Guys, be nice to Boba,” Arla scolds them. “You all know how hard grade eight is.”

“You’re all just jealous because I have more clout than all of you combined,” Boba says, apple juice in hand, and Sipho tuts at him as he takes a drink from the jug. He looks over at Ahsoka. 

“Oh hey, you’re new,” he says. Ahsoka nods. 

“Ahsoka, have you met Boba yet?” 

“Yeah, he's your snotty kid brother,” she says.

“And you’re that emo guy’s snotty kid sister.” Boba huffs. “See? How does that feel? Not nice I’ll bet.” 

Jesse laughs. “The most stinging part of that was being accused of being related to Skywalker,” he says. “Lucky for all of us you didn’t get the jackass gene.” 

The rest of them laugh, but Ahsoka sees Rex’s face take a pinched look, rain clouds sweeping in over his happy expression. He tucks his chin and visibly disengages from the conversation, and Ahsoka frowns sadly. Rex and Anakin haven’t talked in weeks since their fight. Ahsoka hates being caught in the middle of it, since her friendship with either of them is undamaged despite their rift, but at least they haven’t tried to make her be a messenger between them. 

She wishes they would just talk to each other. She knows Anakin misses Rex, and Rex misses Anakin just as much. They’ve been best friends for years, and now this… she can’t imagine what it must be like.

“Wait, you're british? That’s so funny--” 

“Say something in british--” 

“Say ‘tea and crumpets’--”

“Is it true that you all go crazy over tea or is that just an exaggeration--”

“Er,” Obi-Wan finds himself surrounded on all sides by Fett relatives, his paper cup of fruit punch clutched in both hands, sweating a little under all the attention. “Well, I personally like tea but I can’t speak for--”

“You guys,” Cody cuts in, his knight in shining armour, Jango hovering right behind him. “Kenobi isn’t actually English. He’s Scottish.” 

Obi-wan sees everyone’s mouth open to make way for another slew of questions, but they’re cut off by the front door opening again, and in walks a couple with two small children. 

“Hey everyone!” The man, obviously the Fett relation, says. Numa, and Ninety-Nine’s sons run over to the two children who came in. They run off with the group to play in Numa’s room again, and the two adults come over to join their cluster. 

“Hey Cut, hey Suu,” someone says, and the woman, Suu, holds up a tray of veggies that doesn’t look like it came from the store. 

“Should I put this in the kitchen?” She asks, and Boil breaks off from the group. 

“There’s a snack table over here,” he says, and they go over to the table against the other wall with the chips and punch and mini powdered donuts on it. 

“Sorry we’re late, there was a pileup on the highway coming into the city.” Cut says, casually putting his hands in the pockets of his grass-stained jeans. Obi-Wan notices his face and arms are a richer bronze than most of the other Fetts, like he tends to spend a lot of time in the sun.

“No problem,” Waxer says. “Obi-Wan, have you met our older brother Cut?” 

Cut turns to look at him with an easy, open smile, and Obi-Wan shakes his head. “No, I don’t believe I have. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, I’m a friend of Cody’s. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cut,” he holds out his hand to shake. Cut puts a jar of jam in it, and Obi-Wan looks down, confused. “Huh?” 

“I know you’re Cody’s,” Cut says, and out of the corner of his eye, Obi-wan sees Cody shaking his head. “Everyone does. This is my wife, Suu,”

Suu comes back over and puts her arm around Cut’s waist. Her skin is a lighter tan than her husband’s, and her black hair falls down her back in two tight braids. Dangling from her ears are a pair of bright pink beaded earrings. “The jam is homemade,” she smiles. “We sell more of it at our booth at the farmers market along with our other produce, you may have seen us there.” 

“Oh I, ah,” Obi-Wan gives a strained laugh looking down at the jar of jam in his hand. “I don’t go to the farmers market. It’s-- above our budget, unfortunately.” He sweats. Too expensive, he doesn’t say but he knows that’s what they all hear-- too poor for the farmer’s market. Christ.

“Oh, yeah,” Jango finally speaks, having just looked on in silence until this point. “You’re a schoolteacher too, aren’t you?”

He sounds… judgmental. Obi-Wan frowns, but before he can respond, Cody cuts in again. 

“Not this conversation again, dad,” he sounds tired. Suddenly Obi-Wan remembers what Cody said at the bar months ago, about the conflict between him and his father over his career choices. Everything goes quiet for just a moment, everyone around them holding their breath as Jango and Cody exchange a bit of very charged eye contact. 

It seems as though that tension hasn’t gone away. 

But it’s broken by the small caravan of children running back out into the living room, and all the noise that had been sucked out of the atmosphere comes rushing back in. 

“Mr. Jesus!” Numa runs right up to Obi-Wan, and he sighs at the nickname that looks like it’s actually going to stick as the other adults around them laugh. “Where’s Ahsoka? I wanna show her my toys!”

“Yeah, we wanna play with Ahsoka!” Hevy chimes in, and Obi-Wan smiles. 

“Ahsoka is in the kitchen, I believe.” He says. “Shall we go fetch her?” 

“Yeah!” Numa grabs him by the hand and pulls him towards the kitchen, the other children hot on their heels, and Obi-Wan sends the other adults a look of farewell as he’s dragged off. 

On their way into the kitchen they pass Arla and another woman in the doorway as they leave. Inside they find the teenagers playing some sort of hot potato game with an orange. “Ahsoka!” Numa says, and Ahsoka turns to look at them, smiling when she sees Obi-Wan somewhat hunched over with his hand grasped in Numa’s little one. 

“We’ve been summoned,” he says to Ahsoka, then glances around the room at the others. “Hello, all. I trust your essays are coming along well?” 

“Yes, Mr. Kenobi,” the room groans in unison, and he smiles. 

“Ahsoka, I wanna show you my toys!” Numa reaches up to take Ahsoka’s hand in her free one. 

“Sure!” Ahsoka grins. “See ya,” she says to those gathered in the kitchen, and as she and Obi-Wan are led back out, he hears part of an exchange:

“He's everywhere,” one of them says. 

“Wouldn’t it be so funny if you woke up one day and Mr. Kenobi was just in your house?” Another laughs. 

“Depends on what he's doing in my house,” a distinctly younger voice says. 

“Just chilling,” someone else replies. He doesn’t hear the rest. 

They're brought down the hall to Numa’s room, the other children hopping around their feet like excited little rabbits. 

“This is my room,” Numa lets go of their hands to gesture widely to the relatively small bedroom. It’s brightly coloured and just on the edge of cluttered. On the wall above her bed is a map of the world, and the other walls are decorated with either Numa’s art— distinguishable as such by her name spelled in large wonky letters in the corners of the papers— or suitable wall decals in the form of stars and butterflies. 

“Over here is my bed,” Numa points to her bed, “I have to make it in the morning when I get up. And that’s my closet,” she points to her closet, “I keep lots of stuff in there, not just clothes. And these are my toys!” She points to a short storage unit with open drawers, and all kinds of toys— LEGO sets, Polly pockets, nerf guns, littlest pet shops, hot wheels, Barbies, et al , spill out onto the floor from it. 

“Very nice,” Obi-Wan says.

“I’m going to donate a lot of them soon, because I don’t play with some of them any more,” Numa says. “Here,” She goes over to the bins and pulls out a baby doll with a great clattering of plastic toys. It probably had clothes at one point, but they’re nowhere to be found now. Most of its eyelashes are missing, and one of the eyes wobbles closed no matter how you hold it. She hands it to Obi-Wan. He tucks the jam into his elbow to take it. 

Behind them, the door bangs shut, and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka turn to see Hevy and— Cut’s daughter, who Obi-Wan realizes he doesn’t know the name of, standing with their backs to the door and devilish little grins on their faces. 

“Now you’re our prisoners!” Cut’s son whose name Obi-Wan also doesn’t know announces. 

“Wha?” They blink in confusion, and Cutup and Numa nudge them until they sit down on the rug. 

“We’re a crime family,” Numa offers exposition. “And we’re kidnapping you to look after the baby because our parents are dead.”

Ah, of course. “My goodness,” Obi-Wan resists laughter. Next to him, Ahsoka does a not as good job at muffling her giggles. “I’d best do what you say, then.”

“You better, or we’ll shoot you dead with our guns!” Hevy picks up a nerf gun and points it at him. 

“Am I being kidnapped too?” Ahsoka asks, and the children all exchange looks like they’re communicating telepathically. 

“You’re a suspect,” Numa decides, “for killing our parents!”

“I thought we died in a car crash,” the other girl says. 

“It was sab’toge,” says her little brother. 

“Shaeeah and me were the mom and dad,” Hevy explains, “but we died in a car crash this morning.” 

Ahsoka nods along. “Are you ghosts now?” Shaeeah shakes her head. 

“I didn’t want to be the mom anymore so now I’m a mermaid ninja assassin.” 

“And I’m the dog,” Hevy says. 

“I see,” Obi-Wan adjusts the doll in his arms so he’s holding it like how you’re supposed to hold an infant. 

“And I’m the older sister, and Jek is my little brother, and Cutup is the cousin that ruins everything.” Numa says. 

“I cause problems on purpose!” Cutup grins. 

“And now we have to go to the funeral for our dead parents,” Jek says. 

“Ok, so pretend that we’re at the funeral now.” The kids align themselves how they must assume a funeral is like, and Hevy goes onto all fours, presumably because he is pretending to be a dog. 

Shaeeah drags a couple of plastic bins into the middle of the floor. “Pretend these are the coffins,” she says, and then throws herself on the floor and starts fake crying. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka exchange a look, like, geez these kids are morbid . But really, aren’t all children strangely morbid?

“Aren’t you worried I’ll try to escape while we’re at the funeral?” Obi-Wan asks, a genuine question. 

“No because you would feel bad so you won’t leave.” Hevy says. Ah, so it’s Stockholm syndrome, then.

Ahsoka sits up further on her knees. “I would like to make a eulogy,” she announces. Numa nods solemnly at her. Ahsoka shuffles over to the ‘coffins’ and clears her throat. 

“Mr. Mom and Mrs. Dad were great people,” she sighs. “Even though they were crime lords. They were very good friends of mine and I was not jealous of their wealth at all, even though they had so much of it just lying around in safes left to their now orphaned children. Their death was a terrible tragedy and also totally an accident, that I was not involved in even a little bit. I am very sad that they are dead.” She bows her head. “Thank you.”

She shuffled back over to sit next to Obi-Wan again. He bounces the doll in his arms a little as if soothing a distressed baby. 

“You sound really s’picious, Ahsoka,” Jek narrows his eyes. Ahsoka puts her hands up. 

“Nooooo,” she says, voice pitched up. But before anything else can be said, the door is opened and Cody comes in. 

“Hey—“ he starts, but gets cut off by Hevy running up and punching him in the thigh. 

“Raah!” 

“Ah!” Cody stumbles back against the doorframe, playing along as easily as breathing. Obi-Wan smiles. “Ow, my leg, how are you so strong! Also, why did you punch me?” 

“I stabbed you with a knife!”

“A knife?! Oh no, I’m bleeding everywhere! Damn, and I liked these jeans,” Cody laughs, clutching at his leg as if trying to stifle a bleeding wound. “Augh, I’m losing too much blood, I'm dying!” 

Leaning back against the wall, he slides down until he’s sitting on the floor, and then lets his  head drop to the side, closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out to show just how dead he is. The kids all cheer, “That’s what you get for crashing a funeral!” One of them says.  Ahsoka cheers along with them. “Murder and killing! Death and destruction!” Obi-Wan doesn’t bother trying to hide his laughter at the whole scenario.

Cody opens his eyes. “Well, now that I’m dead, I guess there’s no one left to tell you that it’s time for cake and presents,” He sighs, “this is why you don’t shoot the messenger, kids.”

Without another word the children stampede out of the room, climbing over Cody in the doorway on their way out, and he grunts as he’s trampled by the small feet. Ahsoka follows them out after, politely stepping over him, and then it’s just him and Obi-Wan left in the room.

“You’re good with the children,” Obi-Wan says. 

“Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation.” Cody smirks when he sees Obi-Wan carefully set the doll down on the carpet. “You know that’s not a real baby, right?” 

Obi-Wan flushes as he pushes himself to his feet, and Cody stands also. “Don’t insult my strong nurturing instincts,” he grumbles. 

Cody laughs at him, but that’s more than alright. They go out to where everyone has gathered around the dining table, Numa seated at the head of it and fidgeting excitedly. The lights get turned off, and Waxer comes in with the cake, the nine candles on it lit, as everyone starts to sing happy birthday. 

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Numa, happy birthday to you!”

Numa blows out all the candles, and everyone claps and cheers. The cake gets cut into slices and divvied up between everyone. Obi-Wan balances his little paper plate in one hand and the jar of jam in the other. Arla laughs at him. 

Once they all have a slice, it’s time to open presents. There are a lot of presents. Most of them are more toys or crafting kits, but a few and Numa’s reaction to them do stick in Obi-Wan’s memory: Ahsoka’s, his, Cody’s, and Arla’s. 

Ahsoka got Numa a webkinz pig, as stuffed animals are a fairly safe choice for a gift, and the wrapped present is soft when Numa picks it up. Upon unwrapping it she immediately gives the toy a tight hug, and then gives Ahsoka a hug as well, which Obi-Wan thinks is very sweet. 

Behind him, Obi-Wan hears someone nudge the person next to them and snicker-whisper, “she should name it Fox.”

The person they’d said it to coughs to cover up a laugh, and Obi-Wan figures he stumbled upon some sort of inside joke. 

When Numa picks up his gift, Obi-Wan starts to feel a little nervous. Will she like it? Will the other adults approve? 

“It’s heavy,” Numa says when she picks up the rectangular present. 

“Who’s it from?” Boil asks, and Numa tips it to look at the tag. 

“Obi-Wan,” She says. 

“Knowing Kenobi, it’s probably a book,” Cody smirks at him, and Obi-Wan indulges in poking the man in the arm with a smile. 

“Hush, you.”

Cody gives him one more lingering smile before looking away. Obi-Wan feels his heartbeat pick up just a little bit before he looks away as well. 

“I like books,” Numa says as she pulls the paper off it. Once the front of the hardcover is revealed, she holds it out in front of her. “A wizard of Earthsea,” she reads out, “by Ursula K. Leg-Win.” 

“Oh, I’ve heard of that,” someone says as Numa turns the book over. 

“On the island of Gont in the ar— archie-pelago of Earthsea, a young mage named Ged is born. He displays great power while still a boy and joins the school of wizardry, where his prickly nature drives him into conflict with one of his fellows. During a magical duel, Ged's spell goes aw-ry and releases a shadow creature that attacks him. Follow his journey as he seeks to be free of the creature.” She reads out. A confused frown forms on her face. “Is this like Harry Potter?”

“This book was published decades before Harry Potter,” Obi-Wan quickly says, “and it’s much better, in my opinion.”

“Okay!” Numa smiles up at Waxer, who stands behind her with a hand on the back of her chair. “Baba, will you read it to me for bedtime story?” 

“Sure,” Waxer boops her nose. “Now, what do you say to Obi-Wan?”

“Thank you, Obi-Wan!” Numa sends him a bright dimpled beam, and Obi-Wan smiles back. 

Next is Cody’s gift. Numa unwraps it quickly, tearing the paper off and practically throwing it to the side. Revealed is what appears to be a jewellery box, a good few inches tall, that can’t be anything other than handmade by Cody himself. The detailing on the sides is intricately, delicately carved, a swirling pattern reminiscent of crawling vines. The gleaming gold-painted latch that keeps it closed is similarly almost the shape of a flower. That and the brightly shining varnish on the dark wood gives it almost a whimsical, fantastical feel to it. 

“Wow…” Numa gasps as she unlatches it and lifts the lid. Inside even has a velvet-like lining, and inlaid in the underside of the lid is a mirror. 

It’s a magnificent piece of craftsmanship. 

“That’s beautiful, Cody.” Arla says. 

“It’s a treasure box,” Cody says. “You can put anything that’s precious to you in it.” 

“I’m going to put my rocks in it!”

“That works,” Cody pats her on the head, and Numa wraps her arms right around his middle. It’s very sweet, and Obi-Wan can’t stop looking at the soft smile on Cody's face. 

Then, later, even though that was a stellar gift, nothing that came before it can hold a candle to what Arla and her wife got for Numa. 

It was the largest gift, so big it was kept on the floor next to the table instead of on it, as tall as Numa herself, and therefore it was understood that that one would have to be saved for last. When Numa finally gets it unwrapped enough to see what it is, the shock and awe that fills the room is tangible.

“Oh my gosh!” Numa rips off the last of the paper at light speed, fully uncovering the shiny brand new sealed box that boasts having a massive three story Barbie Dreamhouse inside. With a working elevator, garage, and light, sound and motion. Adult assembly required. “Thank you thank you thank you !”

She runs over and hugs both Arla and Sipho, still squealing with delight, and Arla scoops her up into the air, laughing. “Only the best for you, kiddo,” She grins with no small amount of smugness directed at the adults around her.

“Last year was a nintendo, now this, what’s next? A pony?” Jango grumbles, and Numa whips her head around with an excited gleam in her eye.

“Yeah!” 

“No,” Waxer and Boil both say at the same time. “No pony.” 

“If you did, we could keep it at the farm,” Cut says, “And she could visit it anytime.”

“No. Pony.” 

“I’d name it Rarity,” Numa says, and Waxer groans.

“There will be no getting of any ponies.”

“Well now, why can’t the kid have a pony?” Jango says. The back and forth continues, everybody pitching in their two cents, and Obi-Wan just watches all of it, feeling privileged to be let in to this. The Fetts have such a huge, wonderful family. It’s exactly like what Obi-Wan always wished he had. 

He’s happy Ahsoka has been absorbed in so seamlessly, he thinks even as he himself is surrounded on all sides by the same family, she deserves it.

They get home a few hours after that. 

The unit is dark when they get inside. Threepio waits whining by the door. Immediately, Obi-Wan’s good mood evaporates as he senses something wrong with this scene. He puts the jam down on the kitchen counter.

“We’re home,” he calls out to an apartment he instinctively already knows is empty. “Anakin?” 

Ahsoka sits on the bench to take off her winter boots and coat. Obi-Wan strides past the coat closet before his is even off, going straight to Anakin’s room. He knocks loudly on the closed door. “Anakin?” 

No answer. It's unlocked. He opens it. 

Empty. 

“Oh, that little…” Obi-Wan hisses, pulling out his cellphone. “He had better not be at Padme’s house. He knows , I told him , he knows he’s not supposed to go out until he’s caught up on school--”

The silence in the apartment is tense, the sound of the phone ringing on the other end of the line all Obi-Wan really hears. Ahsoka watches as he practically taps his foot in impatience. “I am calling Jobal and I am going to calmly and politely ask that she sends Anakin back on his way here immediately, I will drive over there and pick him up myself if I have to.”

Ahsoka just nods. It’s not like she knows where Anakin is, he hasn’t told her anything about where he goes. She hears a faint click on the other end, and a faint voice speaking, that must be Padme’s mom. 

“Hello, Jobal,” Obi-Wan says, as calm and polite as he said he was going to be. “Is Anakin there? I need to have a word with him.” 

Ahsoka doesn’t hear what she says in response to that, but she does see Obi-Wan’s brow furrow, and thinks, uh oh . “What do you mean, you haven’t seen him? I can’t imagine anywhere else he might be-- mh hm. Alright, I suppose it’s possible, yes please.” 

A moment passes in charged quiet, before Obi-Wan sighs, and speaks again. “Hello, Padme. Is Anakin with you? Yes, well I’d hope you haven’t seen him all week, I’ve confined him to the house until he’s caught up on his studies, apologies. I mean at this very moment. No? You’re sure? Right, yes, of course, please do. Alright, have a lovely evening, dear.”

He hangs up, and immediately takes his glasses off to press the heel of his palm hard into his browbone, eyes shut in tension and frustration that literally radiates off of him like heat waves. 

“I take it he’s not there?” Ahsoka asks tentatively. 

“ No ,” Obi-Wan snaps. “He’s not.” Ahsoka fidgets, and Obi-Wan sighs. “Sorry, dear, it’s not you, I am simply. Quite cross. One second, I’m going to call him.” 

He presses Anakin’s contact so hard Ahsoka is a little surprised the screen doesn't crack,and this time, Obi-Wan does tap his foot as it rings, a deep frown on his face. 

They both wait in the low winter light, desaturated apartment as it rings, and rings, and rings. 

It goes to voicemail, and Obi-Wan looks like he wants to throw his phone on the ground. “Blast it,” he grits out, and immediately calls again, going into his room and closing the door harshly, just shy of slamming it shut. As he goes, Ahsoka hears him mutter, “That boy had better pick up, I swear to God, he’s only making it worse…” 

For a minute, Ahsoka just stands in the middle of the living room, not sure what to do. She glances into Anakin’s messy room. Yep, definitely not in there. 

She sighs, frustrated. As she goes into her own room, she sends Anakin a text. 

> Hey, where are you? Obi-Wan is about to go nuclear lol

> rip u i guess 

She doesn’t get a reply, it doesn’t even get marked read, but that doesn’t surprise her. She flops down on her bed and frowns. Looks like it’s going to be another few hours of scrolling through tiktok and being totally useless, again . She thinks bitterly.

Nothing else happens until actually several hours later. Ahsoka jolts upright when she hears the door slam open and closed, not even an attempt to be subtle. Immediately, Obi-wan’s voice is heard through her closed door, only a little muffled, and Ahsoka gets up and presses her ear to the door to hear their conversation better. 

“Where have you been!” Obi-Wan snaps. “Do you know what time it is? I almost called 911!” 

“God, could you sound more cliche?” Anakin snarks back. “‘ Where have you been Anakin, do you know what time it is Anakin? ’ Give me a break.” 

“Don’t you walk away from me, young man!” Ahsoka assumes Anakin had tried to go straight to his room. “You are in very serious trouble!” 

“Ooh, it’s serious ,” Anakin continues with his mocking, devil-may-care tone, and it just sounds wrong .

“It’s very serious.” Obi-Wan’s voice sounds cold. “I thought I made it clear you were not to leave the house until you were caught up, and last I checked, you were nowhere near that. Where have you been!”

“Out,” Anakin sounds dodgy. 

“You know that’s not an acceptable answer.” 

“Shit, why do you care! Oh that’s right, you don’t actually care, you only are about my stupid homework and my stupid grades!”

“That’s not true! You didn’t answer your phone for hours, I was worried about you!”

“Well I’m back now, so just lay off, alright? Clearly I'm just fine .” Anakin bites out. 

“You are not fine!” There’s the sound of boots stomping. “Anakin!”

A door slams closed. Obi-Wan knocks. “Anakin!” He shouts again. 

“Leave me alone!” Anakin is harder to hear through more layers of wall, but he yells loud enough for it to not even be an issue. 

“This conversation isn’t over!” Obi-Wan says, and this time it’s more muffled, but it sounds like Anakin sneers, 

“Sure it’s not.”

Obi-Wan huffs and goes into his room again, and then the silence weighs heavy on the apartment like the blankets of snow outside. The winter inside is colder than the winter on the other side of her window.

Ahsoka waits a few minutes before creeping out of her room, and going over to Anakin’s door. She knocks softly twice. Inside, Anakin snaps, “I said leave me the fuck alone, Obi-Wan!” 

“It’s me,” Ahsoka says, and there’s a pause, before she hears the click of the door unlocking. Carefully, she opens the door and goes in, closing it again behind her. 

Anakin is sitting on his bed, one foot propped up on the mattress and his mouth mashed into his knee as he glares at the wall. Ahsoka tiptoes over and sits, perched on the edge of the mattress.

Another minute goes by, neither of them saying anything. She looks around the room, at the posters on the wall, at the models and action figures and robotics projects stacked on every surface. She chews the inside of her cheek. 

“You have to know Obi-Wan does care about you, right?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Anakin grumbles. 

“Okay. So like, where actually where you, then?” 

“I don’t want to talk about that either.”

“Okay.” Ahsoka looks down at her hands. ‘Whatever it is, I’m sure things are going to turn out fine.”

“Whatever,” Anakin hisses, and Ahsoka frowns. There doesn’t seem to be anything she can say. 

“There’s nothing you can do,” Anakin says with finality. Ahsoka thinks he must be right.

Chapter Text

“Oh god, it’s exams,

Right around the corner, ah,

God fucking damn it.” 

The class claps, and Jesse takes a bow before returning to his seat. “That was lovely, Jesse, thank you. Very profound,” Mr. Kenobi deadpans, and the students snicker. 

Mr. Kenobi’s English class is the best one to have right before exams, because they’re done all the assignments and there isn’t anything to really prep for, since for the exam all they have to do is read a short text, answer questions about it, and then write a short essay based off some prompts that they’ll get on the exam itself. So the days leading up to exam week consists of what Mr. Kenobi apparently considers academically goofing off. 

“Go home and write a haiku, and we’ll perform them for the class tomorrow,” he had told them yesterday. Almost no one took their haikus seriously, but their teacher doesn’t seem to mind. Based on the repressed twitches of his face, Rex actually thinks he’s enjoying the silly poetry. 

“Alright, who’s next on the list…” Mr. Kenobi consults the randomized class list on his computer. “Ah, Key. Key, do you have a haiku for us?”

He looks out at the class expectantly, and everyone else follows his gaze to Key’s desk. “Key?”

Key is slumped over onto his desk, head face down pillowed on his arms. He has his winter coat on even in the heated building, and his hood pulled half up over his head, his messy wavy hair sticking out. He seems completely asleep, until he slowly raises his head and blinks slowly. “What?” He says. His voice sounds hoarse, and there are dark bags under his eyes. Rex frowns in concern, and so does Mr. Kenobi. 

The teacher gets up and walks over to Key’s desk as Key rubs his eyes, and crouches down. 

“Is everything alright?” Rex, only a few desks away, hears Mr. Kenobi murmur. Key shrugs. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, “just didn’t really get any sleep last night. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright,” Mr. Kenobi says. “Would you like to go over to the guidance office? They have a dark room you could take a nap in, if you’d like.”

Key nods, but it’s hard to tell if it’s because he’s assenting or if he’s fighting sleep still. “Yeah, thank you…” 

“Of course,” Mr. Kenobi smiles. “You go on, I’ll call ahead so they’ll know you’re coming. And I’ll call your next class, so your teacher knows where you are and there’s no rush.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kenobi,” Key says as he gets up and pulls his bag onto his shoulder. Rex almost thinks he sees tears in his eyes. Mr. Kenobi’s expression turns softer. 

“It’s no problem, Key. Go get some rest, alright?”

Key nods again and walks out, head down. Rex watches him go, chest tight. He hardly ever sees Key so low-energy— the last time he did, it was because he himself had broken his heart a little. (Maybe a lot.) Wondering what has him like this now is… stressful. 

Mr. Kenobi calls guidance and Key’s next teacher like he said, and then goes back to his desk, acting like nothing happened at all. “Right,” he says, “who’s next?” 

The bell rings, and everyone grabs their stuff and heads for the door. Anakin is the first one out, bolting like the devil is chasing him, and Rex sighs. He packs up his bag and goes to leave for chem as well, but Mr. Kenobi stops him on the way out. 

“Rex,” he says, an extra one of the exam prep booklets they’d gotten today in hand. “Would you bring this to Key, please?” 

Rex takes the booklet. “Sure,” he says, and Mr. Kenobi nods. 

“Thank you, Rex.” He says, “have a good day, now.” 

“You too, Mr. Kenobi,” Rex says as he walks out the door. 

He probably meant during lunch or something, but Rex heads straight for the guidance office instead of going to chem. He wants to check in with Key and make sure he’s alright. 

When he asks if Key is still there, Mr. Sinube points him down a short hall at the back of the office, where there’s a room that was once part of the nurse’s office but isn’t used anymore. He knocks softly on the door. “Hey, Key? Uh, it’s me. Rex.” 

There’s silence for a minute, and Rex wonders if maybe Key is asleep, or just ignoring him. But then the door cracks open, and Rex sees Key on the other side peeking through in the dark. 

He looks terrible, to put it nicely. He looks like he’s been in there for a week growing mushrooms on his clothes. He looks like a character in a Tim Burton movie, almost, you know, except for the fact that he’s not white.

“Hey,” Key croaks, and opens the door further to let Rex in. When he closes it again, it’s completely pitch black in there, until Key turns the flashlight on his phone on and leaves it face down on the old exam bed-table-thing. 

“Mr. Kenobi asked me to bring you this,” Rex holds out the booklet. “It’s exam prep. Not mandatory work or anything, just practise.”

“Thanks,’’ Key takes it, looks at the front page for a second, and sets it aside. 

Just the one small but bright white light from the phone flashlight casts harsh shadows on the whole room. Half of Key is in the dark, one of his already-dark eyes hidden, the other shines with tears on his lashes. He’s obviously miserable, and Rex sort of hates the fact that he still really wants to kiss him right now. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. Key sniffs and wipes at his eyes. 

“It’s… uhm,” he pulls at his hair under his ear, a little too hard. Rex reaches up and gently takes Key’s fingers in his, before he hurts himself. “My grandma had to, had to go the, the hospital last-- last night. She had a stroke… and we still don’t know if she’s going to make it and I--” 

He dissolves into tears before he can say any more, one hand gripping Rex’s and the other pressed to his mouth to try and stifle the gasps and sobs. Immediately Rex pulls him into a hug, tucking him in close and resting his cheek on the top of Key’s head. He runs his fingers through Key’s hair as the cheerleader practically mashes his face into Rex’s shoulder, his other hand pressing on Key’s back, holding him tight. Key curls his hands into fists on Rex’s chest and cries, like every single emotion he’s felt built up over the past 12 hours are all flooding out now. 

“I’m sorry,” Rex murmurs into Key’s hair. “You and your grandma must be really close, huh?” 

Key nods against him. “Yeah,” he hiccups. His tears seem to subside a little after that first rush, slowing into just gentle weeping. “She homeschooled me for almost a year after I— when I— uh, well, I— I had to leave my old school,” he stumbles over his words, and Rex wonders what the full story is. It’s probably not a very nice one. 

“She really helped me so much through the darkest time in my life, she’s practically my hero, and I just—“ Key continues, sucking in a shaky breath. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t wake up. I promised her she would see me graduate…” 

Rex feels the fabric pull on his shoulders when Key grabs his jacket. “It’s okay to be scared,” he whispers. “The idea of losing someone you love is scary. But I’m sure she’ll pull through. If she’s related to you then she must be one tough lady, right?” 

Key nods again and pulls away from the hug. Rex lets him go, but he doesn’t go very far, staying within reach. He still plays with the snaps of Rex’s jacket, and Rex’s hands naturally slide down to around Key’s waist and holy shit this is not the time or place but Rex does die a little inside . “Yeah,” Key wipes his cheeks with the cuff of his hoodie sleeve. “I guess death doesn’t stick to us,” he laughs, a little bitterly. 

That must mean something , but Rex can’t imagine what. 

Key looks down and sighs. “Thanks, Rex.” He gives a watery smile. “You give really good hugs, you know.”

“D’you want another one?” Rex asks, and Key is already stepping closer again when he says, 

“Yes please.” 

Rex wraps his arms around him and just holds him, Key’s arms going around his waist this time as he does. Key is warm, and soft, and there’s more than a bit of fleshy give around his torso when Rex holds on tighter. He takes a breath in, then out, and drops his face onto Key’s head again, trying not to just nuzzle Key’s soft hair but sort of failing. 

This is. This is really nice. Rex wishes they could just say like this forever, but the faint ringing of the second bell rudely interrupts them. 

“Shit,” Rex sighs. “I’m late for class.” He doesn’t let go, though. Key is the one who really needs this. He’ll let go when Key decides it’s time. 

Unfortunately, Key is the one with the brain cells, and he pulls away, a bittersweet look on his face. “You should go,” he says. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Rex asks. 

“I think I’m gonna go home,” Key says. “I’m gonna call my mom and just go home. I can’t focus at all like this.”

“Okay,” Rex still doesn’t move away. Instead, he raises his hands and carefully places them on either side of Key’s face, looking deep into his eyes. Key’s eyes widen, dark and hypnotic. Slowly, he tips Key’s face up and leans down, and presses a soft kiss to his friend’s forehead. Rex hears Key’s breath stutter, and when he pulls back, his eyes are watery. 

“Quit being so tender or I’m gonna start crying again,” Key says, and Rex just smiles at him, dropping his hands. 

“Sorry,” he’s not sorry. Rex grabs his backpack off the floor and takes a step towards the door, before turning back again. “You sure you’re gonna be alright?” 

“Yeah,” Key rubs his eyes again. “Thank you again.”

“Yeah,” Rex parrots back at him. “Anyth—“ he cuts himself off before he can say anything for you . “Uh, anytime.”

He leaves. The door clicks shut behind him, and Rex sighs. He goes over to Mr. Sinube’s desk to ask for a pass. 

He’s going to be thinking about Key’s sad eyes and his hands gripping his jacket hard like he’d float away if his hold was any lighter for the rest of the day. 

At 11:49 pm, Rex gets an instagram notification. He’s in bed, tired after a long many hours of trying to study, and scrolling mindlessly on his phone when the message notification slides in at the top of his screen. 

It’s from Key. 

Rex isn’t tired anymore. 

&&&

>Hey rex arebtou ip

He gets another one, and he opens the chat as more messages come in. 

>Up

>Sryoy 

>Sorryy 

Concern building, Rex types back, 

Yeah I’m up<

Are you okay?<

The response is immediate. 

>Are yoy cool to taldk 

>Y’all 

>Talk fugkv idk why it foes that 

Rex frowns. Something is wrong. 

Yeah, of course<

What’s going on?<

>Ots kinr of weriojf

>Serioud 

>Sorryey hard to teype hamds shakign 

>Bl

It’s okay, I can read it fine. Anakin’s typing is even worse than this<

>Hfjdkf 

>Can o visce call u  

Sure<

The screen of his phone turns black as the call starts, and Rex plugs in his earphones and picks it up immediately. 

“Hey,” he says into the microphone on his earphones, keeping his voice low because it’s late. “Is everything okay?” 

“Rex, ” Key gasps, and Rex can hear how wrecked he sounds, letting out sobs that sound strong enough to rock his whole body. “I did something really stupid. ”

Rex sits up. “What happened?” 

“I’m a mess, ” Key cries, not answering the question. “Mamani f-flatlined for a m— a minute again tonight a-a-and they’re like monitoring brain activity or whatever but she s— she still hasn’t w-woken up and it’s looking really, really bad and— “ 

“Key, breathe,” Rex reminds him. “What... did you do?” 

On the other end of a call, Key takes a deep, shuddering breath. “ It’s… ” he audibly gulps. “ I re- I— I relapsed really bad… ” 

Rex’s heartrate picks up in anxiety. “What?” He tries not to sound freaked out, but Key is kind of scaring him. 

“I just com-completely cut up my thighs,” Key sobs, and Rex has to cover his mouth so Key can’t hear his gasp. “What the fuck is wrong with me, I haven’t cut in y-years and then I just freak out and— I hate being like this, why am I like this… ”

“Key…” Rex trails off, his face twisting sadly, his stomach sinking. “Are you— are you safe? Do we need to call somebody—“

“No ,” Key says immediately. “ I’m fine. Well, not fine , but I don’t— I don’t need to go to the hospital or anything. I promise .” 

Rex sighs. “Okay. I trust you.” He adjusts his blanket, pulling his knees up. His heart races. He feels like he’s been thrown into the deep end of a pool and he’s suddenly forgotten how to swim. “Is there anything I can do to help you? I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do…”

Key’s crying seems to have slowed, caught Rex on the tail end of it.  There’s a rustling noise. “ It’s okay ,” he sniffles. “ Usually I talk to Keasha about, when I… feel like this, but she’s got her own shit going on right now and I just— I didn’t want to bother anyone, but I just, I wanted… you. Sorry. It’s probably selfish… ”

“It’s not selfish to reach out to people who care about you when you need help,” Rex says quietly. “And I, I'm glad you called me. I want to help you, I just… don’t know how. But, any way I can, I will. I promise.” 

Key hiccups. There’s another rustling noise. “Thank you, I… ” he trails off. “Will you stay on the call with me while I clean up? There’s sort of… it’s messy .” 

“Yeah, of course.” Rex murmurs. “Do you want me to talk, or just be quiet?” 

“I’d like some talking, though I’ll probably end up doing most of it. I tend to ramble.” 

“That’s fine, I like hearing you talk,” Rex blushes even as he says it. He hears Key laugh, and blushes harder. 

“You’re so sweet,” Key says, and there’s the sound of a cupboard opening, and plastic-on-plastic clattering. 

“Is there anyone else at home with you?” Rex doesn’t respond to the compliment, if he did he’d just get more flustered. 

“Not really , I mean, my baby sister got put to bed hours ago and my parents are still at the hospital. ”

“I didn’t know you had a little sister,” Rex says. 

“I do, yeah. Her name is Cam, she’s three, almost four. She’s a little sweetheart. I love her to bits.” There’s the sound of running water. 

“Cute,” Rex smiles. “I have a couple of cousins that age.” He hears Key hiss. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just stings.” Key says. “ Shit, some of these are kind of deep .” 

Rex frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m not gonna need stitches or anything,” Key says. “Oh, if you’re worried I’m gonna try and off myself, don’t. I’m not gonna. I’m past that. I’m past wanting that .” 

Rex gulps. “Yeah?” 

Key sighs. “Yeah. I used to… like, well. I guess you want the whole story now, huh .” 

“Only if you want to talk about it,” Rex says, despite the twisting nerves in his gut at the thought of hearing about it. He never would have guessed, not in a million years, that Key struggled with… this. Or ever had. He’s just so happy all the time, the kind of person people describe as being ‘high on life’, in a sort of manic pixie dream boy kind of way. He’s the kind of person who carries worms from the sidewalk to the grass on rainy days, the kind of person who sticks his hands out the car window to feel the air currents rushing by while music plays. The kind of person who smiles when they feel the sun on their face. A tunnel song kind of person. But he guesses it just goes to show you never really know what kind of baggage people carry with them. 

“Well, basically… ” Key sighs again. “Well, I mentioned how I had to leave my old school, right? ”

“Yeah,” A few times, but in the years he’s known Key, he’s never gone into detail about what anything was like before he started going here in grade ten, never mentioned any friends he’d had or anything he’d done. Rex always just figured it was because it wasn’t something he wanted to share. Looks like he was right. 

“It’s because I got bullied a lot, like, a lot. I was just a miserable little closeted trans boy who also happened to be chubby and super emo. Literally everyone hated me. And then in grade eight, I tried to kill myself.”

Key must hear his sharp intake of breath, because he makes a sad noise. “I came out to my family in the note I left. So you can imagine I felt pretty awkward when I woke up,” he laughs. Rex doesn’t laugh.

“They were supportive of me though, when I told them everything. Especially my grandma, she’s helped me so much… ” 

“That’s good,” Rex says. “I’m glad.” 

“I used to… ” the sound of water running again. “I feel like my life is super very cleanly divided into the before and the after of my attempt. Sometimes I wonder if the person I was before actually did die that night, and the person I am now was born in their place.” 

Rex remembers Key’s words from earlier that day— death doesn’t stick to us . 

“But anyways… I used to always have to find reasons to keep living, all day every day, all the time, afterwards. I had to remind myself why it was worth it. But I don’t have to anymore, not for a while. Now I live because I really do love being alive. ” 

“I’m really proud of you, Key,” Rex whispers. “It sounds like you’ve really come a long way. And you can kind of tell, too, that… that you love being alive. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you.”

“Thank you ,” Key whispers back. He sounds a little choked up again. “I’m so glad I didn’t actually die that day. There’s so much I would have missed… I wouldn’t have met you, or any of my friends, or been able to see my baby sister grow up, or…” he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “ Fuck, okay, I’m not going to cry again. No more crying for today .” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s tomorrow,” Rex laughs. “But for the record, I’m really glad I was able to meet you too.” 

He can practically hear Key’s smile. “Thanks. I know now that there’s something beautiful waiting for you around every corner,” he says, “and I want to be here for every beautiful thing that’s still waiting for me. I don’t want to miss any of it .” 

Compulsively, Rex thinks, you’re amazing, but he doesn’t say it, even though he thinks it’s true. It would be embarrassing. Maybe one day soon he’ll work up the courage to say it out loud. 

Key audibly sucks air in through his teeth. “Ow , shit, this hurts. Like, way more than I remember. T can really fuck with your pain tolerance, man-- they should put a little warning on it that says ‘effects: fuck around and find out’. Well, now that I know I’m just gonna be a little baby about it I can say one-hundred percent guarantee I am never cutting again .”

Rex smiles. “That’s good to hear.” It is, even if Key’s delivery is pretty casual for such a morbid subject. But when you’ve lived with it, it’s just easier to joke about it, he supposes. 

“I really am doing better, I swear. ” Key says, “it’s just… been a rough night .” 

“I believe you.”

“You’re gonna be the only one ,” Key grumbles. “Damn, I'm using so many bandages, my parents are totally gonna find out I did this. ” 

“Is that bad?” 

“Not bad , I’m just, I don’t know. I’m trying to get them to stop treating me like I’m made of glass. I mean, I know it’s because they love me and want me to be happy, but I’m tired of them acting like I’m fragile when I’m not. And this relapse is seriously not going to help .”

“I can imagine, especially if it’s as bad as you’re making it sound.”

“It’s pretty bad ,” Key chuckles humourlessly. “My therapist and I are gonna have a long talk about this one .”

“I’m sure.” 

&&&

“Hey, Rex ?” Key sounds tentative. “Thank you. Like, for real, for being there .”

The nerves come back. “Yeah, I mean,” Rex starts, and cringes at himself. “Thank you for letting me. I’m happy to, I… I really care about you.”

“I care about you, too. A lot. I… it feels like I’m never close enough to you. ” 

“I’m sorry…” They’re as close as they can be, but Rex knows Key is right in that it doesn’t feel like enough. He feels that way too, and it feels fucking shitty knowing he’s the reason things are stuck this way. 

He wants to be able to hold Key’s hand between classes. He wants Key to wear his jacket, and he wants to meet Key’s family, and he wants to be able to hold him and kiss him without being afraid of who sees them. And he wants to have more soft moments alone in the dark with him, without feeling guilty because they have to be in the dark. 

“It’s okay ,” Key says. “It’s not your fault .” 

He’s right about that, too. Technically, it’s Krell’s fault. Every day Rex has to keep himself from just punching the bastard in the face. But he still blames himself, a little bit. 

“I mean, maybe, when we graduate…” Rex hesitates. “We could…” 

“Yeah? ” Key’s voice is so sweet and hopeful. 

“If you’re okay with holding out. If you still want that by then.”

“You mean if I still want you ? ” Key seems to laugh a little. “Because I will. And you know, it’s fine to admit you want things, too. ”

Rex, not expecting to be told that, lets out a bit of a surprised wheeze, but nods, even though Key can’t see him. “I— I know that.”

“Good,” Key yawns. “God, I’m fucking exhausted,” he groans. 

“You should sleep,” Rex says, and Key fake-whines. 

“I wanna keep talking to you, though.” 

Rex smiles to himself. “I want to keep talking to you too, but you really need to sleep.” 

“Yeah ,” Key sighs. “Alright, I'll head to bed, then. Goodnight, Rex .” 

“Sleep well,” Rex says. “And, Key?” 

“Yeah ?” 

“I really hope your grandma pulls through. I’d love to meet her.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and Rex fears he said the wrong thing, but then Key says, “I’d really love that, too. ”

Key hangs up, and Rex spends a minute or two just looking down at his phone, listening to the sound of his own breathing in the dark room, twisting the cord of his earphones between his fingers. Now that it’s silent, he can hear the stressed beating of his heart in his ribcage. 

He takes deep breaths as he tries to calm down a little more. That… was a lot. 

He’s not sure what to think. 

It hurts to think that someone as kind as Key went through pain like that, and it should never have happened. He didn’t deserve it— no one ever does— and he doesn’t deserve to hurt like this now. 

Rex sighs and lays back down, dropping his head onto a cool part of his pillow. He truly wishes, with everything in him, that Key’s grandma recovers. 

The next time he holds him, he doesn’t want it to be after a funeral. 

Keasha’s locker is around the corner from Rex’s. He passes by that way the next morning, gait heavy from little sleep, on his way to his first class. As soon as he turns the corner, he sees the cheer captain sitting under her locker. On one side next to her is an open binder full of notes, and curled up on her other side, with his head pillowed on her thigh, is Key. He’s asleep, fast asleep. Rex takes in the sight as he gets closer. Most of his face is obscured by either his hair or Keasha’s pants, but he can see his lips parted softly with every sleepy sigh, and his shoulders rise and fall gently with the tune of his breathing. 

Rex slows to a stop next to them. “Hey,” he says softly, not wanting to wake Key up, and Keasha glances up at him quickly before looking back down at her notes. 

“Hey,” she says back. Then she looks up at him again, looks down at Key, notices Rex watching Key, and looks back up at him. “His grandma’s gonna be alright, by the way,” she tells him. “He got the news earlier this morning. 

Rex sighs in relief. “That’s good to hear,” he smiles. 

He can’t help but wonder if Keasha knows what happened last night. She might, with how every now and then, she gently runs her hand through her friend’s hair, but it could also be the normal comfort she would show when he’s going through a hard time. 

Either way, it’s not really his business. Keasha goes back to her notes, and Rex lingers. 

Key looks so peaceful, even though the school hallway floor can’t possibly be comfortable. He looks healthy, there’s colour in his cheeks. It would be impossible to tell that he spent half an hour on the phone with Rex last night in and out of tears, telling him how he used to struggle to cling to life. 

Suddenly, he slings his bag off his shoulder and puts it down. Keasha shoots him a confused look. Rex starts taking off his letterman jacket, and when he drapes it over Key like a blanket, she smiles. 

“Oh, he is gonna blush so hard when he wakes up to that,” she smirks, and Rex looks away, red in the face himself. He grabs his bag off the floor. He’s a little cold now in just his t-shirt, but it was worth it. 

“See you around,” he mumbles, embarrassed when Keasha directs her smirk at him. He waves goodbye, and continues down the hall. 

Chapter Text

He walks with his head down. He drags his feet. He punches walls. He screams into his pillow. He skips class. He doesn’t give a shit about studying. 

Anakin is dancing on the edge of a downward spiral. 

And during fencing practise, he’s a fucking demon on the piste. 

Fencing is the only thing he’s still good at. All his rage and aggression flares out of him and he completely bowls over any opponent he faces. He’s sending people home with bruises and skinned elbows from when they fall. 

He’s gotten another two gold medals at tournaments since the new year. 

The worst part of it is, Obi-Wan can’t just be happy about it. Isn’t fencing also Obi-Wan’s thing? Shouldn’t he be happy Anakin is so good at it? But no, he only ever wears that stupid worried frown around him. 

He’s just jealous that Anakin is better at it than he ever was. 

That’s what Palpatine says— and he would know, because he was in charge of the fencing club back when Obi-Wan was in it as a student. 

He’s probably just jealous because Palpatine actually knows what he’s talking about. Palpatine has multiple Olympic gold medals— what has Obi-Wan done other than fucked up his knee in college?

Palpatine is the only one who understands him. Sure, Ahsoka is kind of the only other person on this side of the country who still talks to him, but she doesn’t understand him. 

Her original family is just gone . She doesn’t know what it’s like to have someone still out there, just out of reach. 

Palpatine is the only one who understands him. 

As the rest of the students file out of the gym after practise, Anakin lingers, Palpatine hovering at his shoulder. He sees Obi-Wan cast glances at them, his guardian’s brow furrowed, as the man puts away the rest of the gear and equipment. Anakin just ignores him-- at first Obi-Wan had seemed fine with Palpatine coaching him more but lately he seems more and more mad about it, even if he’s not saying anything about it. 

Soon enough they’re the only two left in the room, and the lights on one half of the gym are shut off since they’re not using the whole space. Palpatine leaves to put on his own gear so Anakin can practise one on one with him-- they never do it with other students around, only Anakin gets to be privately coached by him-- leaving Anakin alone in the half-dark gym. 

It’s a little spooky, with the space that is usually familiar now in an unfamiliar state, being the lights half turned off. The solitary nature of it makes the whole place feel removed from the rest of the school, even though Anakin knows that just outside, everyone is going home, the halls busy and loud on the other side of the closed doors. 

The sound of the doors opening and closing again startles him, jumping in place a little. Palpatine is back, in his own full, fancy gear with his fancy sabre. 

Looking at Palpatine and how old he clearly is, one would probably initially assume him to be frail as is characteristic of elderly people, but he’s surprisingly athletic even in his advanced age. He’s obviously kept himself in shape since retiring from his career as a fencer. 

They salute and get into place on the piste, putting their helmets on and raising the tips of their sabres level towards each other. Palpatine leads the match as he always does, guiding Anakin through drills and pushing him backwards until Anakin pushes back. 

There’s something off about his stance, though, something stiff and eager that puts Anakin on edge for reasons he can’t explain. 

He looks like, in nature documentaries, when the big cat is stalking its prey. Hiding in the grass, poised to strike. 

It’s… odd. It leaves a strange, uncomfortable feeling in Anakin’s stomach.

Palpatine lunges, and Anakin is too lost in thought to parry it-- the rubber-covered tip of the principal’s sabre digs into his gut, and, the nausea intensifying, Anakin stumbles back. Immediately, Palpatine straightens and removes his helmet, a concerned frown on his lined face. “Are you alright, my boy?” He steps towards Anakin. Anakin pulls off his own helmet because he’s a little worried he might puke in it.

“Fine,” he gasps out. “Just a little queasy-- might have eaten something weird today.” 

Palpatine hums and starts to rub his back, and normally, that would make him feel at least a little bit better, but something about the long shadows on the floor keeps the feeling of wrongness lodged in his bones. 

He’s just being paranoid. He’s just being paranoid. He’s stressed and sleep deprived and paranoid.

Anakin straightens out, and Palpatine lets him go. Anakin sighs as he gets back into position. Tired, he guesses his stance looks a little sloppy, because instead of going back to his own spot, Palpatine lingers, tutting at him. 

“You need to mind your posture,” the principal says, one hand on Anakin’s shoulder and the other pushing on his lower back. Instinctively Anakin arches away, his feet scurrying him away from the touch before he even thinks about it. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m just trying to help you,” Palpatine says calmly, reaching for Anakin again, to lead him back to the piste. Anakin complies, tripping over his feet just a little bit, his heart still beating a little too fast. “Where were we…”

Palpatine goes to adjust his stance and his posture again, putting his hands in the exact same place, then this time, Anakin takes a full step away. “I uh— I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that,” he stammers out. Palpatine just looks confused. 

“With what?” He frowns. “I’m only trying to coach you to the best of my ability.”

Anakin shifts his weight, running an agitated hand through his hair. “I don’t know, the, the—“ Palpatine nods patiently, an understanding look on his face. “The— the touching.” 

Palpatine smiles. “Anakin,” he says, slowly, like he’s speaking to a young child. “I’m only trying to direct you to where you need to be, it’s perfectly normal.”

“Okay…” Anakin slowly approaches again, and nearly as soon as he’s back within reach, Palpatine practically grabs him, and Anakin jerks away. “Stop!”

Palpatine sighs, “Calm down, Anakin,” he holds his hands out like he’s soothing a wild horse. “Do you want my help or not?” He reaches for him again, and Anakin scurries backwards, dropping his Sabre. It clatters to the ground between them, blade bending and bouncing on the polished wood floor with a loud noise. 

“No! You’re not listening to me!”

Palpatine frowns sadly. “Anakin, I understand you’re going through a hard time right now— but you must believe me when I say I just want to help you. I’m here for you, but you have to let me—“

“No one ever just listens to me!” Anakin cuts him off. “And you— you’re not different! You’re just like everyone else, you don’t care!” 

“Anakin—“ 

His eyes burning, Anakin turns and runs from the gymnasium. Palpatine doesn’t try to follow him. 

He doesn’t sleep that night. 

The next day, Anakin sits quietly in class, not even listening to the droning sound of Obi-Wan’s voice as he talks about the lesson from the front of the class. The minute he set foot into the school this morning his heart started to race, and he hasn’t been able to calm his breathing fully in the hour since the bell rang. 

He knows why. He doesn’t understand why. 

His leg jitters under the desk. He clicks his pen rapidly. 

He can’t relax. It’s like the walls are closing in on him. He feels claustrophobic. He feels like he’s suffocating. 

He doesn’t understand why. He doesn’t know anything. 

The sound of the overhead speakers crackling to life nearly sends him flying out of his seat. 

“Would Anakin Skywalker please report to the principal’s office, Anakin Skywalker to the principal’s office, thank you .” 

It clicks off, and Anakin snaps back into focus as Obi-Wan sighs. “Well, go on then, go see what he wants.”

Anakin’s heartrate spikes in fear. He doesn’t understand why. “Do I have to?” He tries to keep his voice from shaking, and Obi-Wan pauses, giving him a strange look. 

“What do you mean?” He frowns. “You’re always jumping at every opportunity to get out of my class, is everything alright?”

Hyper aware of the eyes around them, Anakin hunches his shoulders, looking down at the floor as he puts his stuff away in his bag. “Never mind,” he snarls. He can feel Obi-Wan watching him closely as he stalks out of the room. 

He drags his feet but he can’t delay it forever. He doesn’t want to see Palpatine. 

He doesn’t understand why. 

Anakin still feels weird about… what happened. The… touching. Palpatine said it was totally normal and he does believe him, he does, he wants to, but— even if it is, Palpatine still should have listened to him when he told him to stop. 

And also he yelled at the principal. He doesn’t want to think about what the consequences for that might be. 

When he gets there, the secretary just points him towards the closed door. Anakin gulps, and goes inside. 

There, Palpatine is sitting behind his desk. The blinds behind him are drawn, the only light in the room coming from the gaps in the blinds. It’s dark. Laid across the desk in between them is Anakin’s sabre. Anakin sits in the other chair without a word. 

“Anakin, my boy,” Palpatine greets him warmly. “I’m so glad you could make it.” 

“Hi, Sheev,” Anakin says. “Um, I—“ 

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” Palpatine says, and Anakin blinks. “As you know, I’m quite a tactile person, just as you are. I like to show my affection for the people I care about in this way, and I’m sorry if you were upset by that.”

Anakin looks down. “It’s okay,” he says. “It was just… weird.” 

“I understand,” Palpatine says. “I’m always here for you, Anakin, you know that. Even when no one else is. I understand you have been feeling lonely lately,” 

“Yeah,” 

“Well no matter who else lets you down, you know you can always trust me.”

“Yeah,” Anakin sighs. He does know that. Despite Anakin’s overreaction yesterday, Palpatine really is the only one who’s never failed him. “Is that… everything you needed?” 

“Not quite,” Palpatine rises from his seat, picking up Anakin’s sabre. “I also wanted to return this to you. You left it behind yesterday; I’m sure you’ll want to practise with it over the weekend.” 

“Yeah,” Anakin repeats, and makes half a motion to reach for it, but Palpatine doesn’t hold it out to him. Instead, he circles around to Anakin’s side of the desk, and Anakin instinctively stands as well. He is taller than Palpatine, but there is something about the way the man carries himself that makes anyone he speaks to feel small.

The tip of Anakin’s sabre in Palpatine’s hand skims the floor as Palpatine steps closer. He glances quickly down at it and back up. Still, Palpatine makes no move to hand it to him. He puts a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. His hand is cold. His face is cold. His grip is tight. Anakin feels panic starting to gather in his stomach.

“You know, my boy, we have known each other for a long time, now,” Palpatine says, and Anakin’s heart races. “I have watched you grow and develop into a fine young man.”

“What--” Anakin barely gets the word out before Palpatine starts to push him down with his hold on his shoulder, a touch that has been a familiar source of comfort these last four years suddenly very much a threat. Immediately he starts to struggle, trying to get out from Palpatine’s hold, but the principal’s grip is surprisingly strong and Anakin has to fight not to be pushed to his knees. “What are you doing! Hey--” He shouts, but cuts himself off with a yelp when suddenly the backs of his knees are whacked hard with the blade of his own sabre, and he falls to the ground. 

“Be quiet,” Palpatine hisses, now so far above him, “and do as I say. I’ve waited a long time for this.” 

Anakin freezes, fully aware of the fact that despite being a blunt weapon for practise, if someone really tried, they could do a lot of damage with a fencing sword. Palpatine’s hold on his shoulder remains, too tight, his bony fingers digging in painfully to his flesh through his shirt. Anakin stares up at him with wide, fearful eyes. 

He doesn’t understand. 

He doesn’t understand. 

Then, Palpatine puts the sabre down over the arms of the chair, and Anakin only has to wonder why for a split second before the principal starts to undo his belt. 

Anakin’s self-preservation instincts send him flying into action again, throwing himself backwards and twisting out of Palpatine’s grip. He jumps up and grabs his sword in both hands and takes a wild panicked swing at Palpatine’s torso-- not the best move he could have done for damage but he’s not thinking, only doing. Palpatine gives an angry grunt and grabs the blade of the sword and pulls on it, dragging Anakin back towards him, but Anakin plants his feet and tightens his grip and yanks the sword back. A drop of blood drips from Palpatine’s hand and the man snarls, his twisted furious face has never looked so frightening. 

A scream caught in his throat, Anakin swipes his bag off the floor by one of the straps and throws the door open. Palpatine tries to grab him again, but Anakin knocks his hand away with his sword, leaving a stinging red line on the man’s pale skin. 

He runs like he has literally never run before, feet pounding on the floor of the empty school hall, breath rattling in his chest, the taste of copper in the back of his mouth, blood rushing in his ears like a tidal wave as he launches himself out the front doors of the school. 

His coat is still in his locker. He runs home without it. 

His hands shake as he fumbles with his keys, but it’s not because of the cold.

He doesn’t understand. 

What… the fuck just happened?

He trips into his room and falls onto the bed, gasping into the sheets. He rolls onto his side and curls in tight on himself, trying to quell the shakes. 

What the fuck just happened !?  

He doesn’t understand . 

He trusted Palpatine! Palpatine-- Palpatine made him trust him. 

He can’t believe it. Palpatine just— he just tried to—

Anakin bites his knuckles around a sob. It was all a fucking lie . 

And now he has no one . 

A week later, at the next fencing practise, Anakin walks into the gym-- only to see Palpatine already there. He turns on his heel and leaves without sparing even another second. 

Later the same day, there’s a knock on his bedroom door. Anakin huffs as he takes out his earphones and trudges over to open it. 

“What,” he snaps when he sees Obi-Wan on the other side. Obi-Wan frowns and crosses his arms.

“Where were you today?” He says, and it’s obviously a trick question. Anakin shrugs and looks to the side. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “I’ve just been here.” 

“Yes, yes of course, you were just here,” Obi-Wan says, deceptively breezily, just dripping with sarcasm. “You skipped fencing today.”

Anakin shrugs again. “So?” He says angrily. Obi-Wan sputters in disbelief. 

“So ?” His guardian parrots back at him. “Anakin, you can not afford to skip fencing! What with how abysmal your marks were last semester, it will be a miracle if Stanford still accepts you! I can’t stand to see you throw away your future like this!” 

“Not fucking this again,” Anakin growls. “Why is the only thing you care about my fucking grades!” 

“You watch your tone,” Obi-Wan glares in warning. “And I don’t just care about your grades, I care about you , why can’t you understand that ? I thought Stanford was important to you, I thought fencing was important to you! Why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?!”

“Nothing is wrong!” Anakin lies. “Maybe I just don’t give a shit about it anymore! Maybe I just changed! So what are you gonna do now that you can’t live vicariously through me, huh!”

“That is not what’s going on here—“ 

“You dropped out of your stupid fancy university so you wanted me to go to a stupid fancy university and do stupid fancy university shit, and then you couldn’t fence anymore because of your stupid knee so you wanted me to be some stupid fencing prodigy ! Well sorry to throw a big fucking wrench into the plan you had for my life, Obi-Wan!”

“You think I wanted any of that!” Obi-Wan shouts back, eyes wide and red in the face. “Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me to just abruptly end my academic career like that! I had to drop out so I could move back across the damn ocean, move back into this shitty little apartment that’s been like a goddamn prison cell I’ve been stuck in for twenty bloody years, so I could try and raise a traumatized child that hasn’t been grateful for a single bloody thing I’ve done for him— all because of the dying wish of a foster father that treated me like dirt!”

Anakin scoffs. “Well I didn’t choose any of this either, but I’m so sorry how that must have been so inconvenient for you!”

“It was inconvenient! It was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but you know what! I would still do it again in a second! I would give it all up again if only for a second chance to do right by you!”

“You mean like how Qui-Gon would have! None of this would have happened if he hadn’t died!” 

“You barely knew the man! I wouldn’t wish his parenting on anyone!” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! You don’t know anything! I wish it was you that died of fucking cancer instead of Qui-Gon! Maybe then I would have actually been able to see my mom again!” Anakin’s throat already feels scratched from shouting. He feels tears start to prick behind his eyes.

“You--” Obi-Wan seems to choke, “Go to your room!”

“I’m already in my room, asshole!” Anakin grabs his door and slams it shut right in Obi-Wan’s face, and storms back further into his room a few paces, fuming. He stops, then turns, then falters in his steps, then shouts wordlessly through his teeth, grabbing at his hair. He spins around and grabs his desk chair and throws it onto the ground, then collapses on his bed and screams into his pillow. He feels like all the rage is just rushing out of him, spewing out his pores and he doesn’t know what to do with all of it. 

He hopes he made Obi-Wan fucking cry. He hopes he made him feel as awful as he feels.

March break. This time, Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to keep him inside. Since their fight the week before, it seems like the man has fully given up on him. 

Fine. Anakin always knew it was going to happen eventually. 

He spends almost all his time at Padmé’s house. He’s brought Ahsoka along a couple of times, but his little sister is hanging out with her own friends today. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter that they used to be Anakin’s friends first. He doesn’t care that they all hate him now. 

Padmé is the only one anymore who makes him feel normal . 

It’s warm in her bedroom. Anakin has always been sensitive to the cold. She’s turned the thermostat up for him. Her bed is soft, the mattress isn’t as firm as his own, and it’s nice. There’s more give to it, and they sink in a little when they roll around together. They’re kissing. There’s a bright, happy smile on Padmé’s face. 

She doesn’t know what happened with… what happened. He hasn’t told her. 

He can’t. 

Padmé sits up, climbing into his lap. Anakin sits back a little, breath caught in his throat as she takes her shirt off with a smile. He puts his arms around her and pulls her close, burying his face in her neck. 

Obviously this is far from the first time they’ve done this. He wants this. But he still feels out of his body, and his heart is beating too fast. It doesn’t make sense. He wants this, he’s telling the truth, and Padmé wants this, so it shouldn’t be a problem. 

She makes him feel safe. He falls into it with her. 

But after, when they’re done, and they’ve pulled the covers up over their bare skin, Anakin turns and hides his face in her chest, curling close to her, hoping she doesn’t notice the stray tears leaking out his eyes. 

She notices. Padmé runs her fingers through his hair, and his shoulders tremble. “Are you alright, Ani?” She says, her voice soft and soothing. 

“I just-- I missed you, Angel.” Anakin says, his forehead pressed against her collarbone. He tightens his arm around her. 

“Aw, Ani,” Padmé coos, “I missed you, too. I love you so much.” 

“I love you too,” he mumbles. 

“I know you’ve been having a hard time lately,” Padmé continues. She sighs. “I wish I could be here with you all the time.” 

“Me too.” 

Padmé continues to stroke his hair, the gentle, soothing motions calming him down. He sighs into her skin, feeling heavy and tired. It feels like his every waking moment now is steeped in exhaustion. 

“Did you have another fight with Obi-Wan?” Padmé asks. Anakin doesn’t respond for a moment, just blinking slowly. 

“Yeah,” he eventually nods. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His response is immediate this time. “No.”

Padmé sighs again. “You know he just wants the best for you--”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Anakin snaps, and Padmé pauses, her hand stilling for a moment, before she resumes her ministrations again. 

“Okay,” she says. 

She wouldn’t understand. He loves her, but she wouldn’t understand. 

And even here, lying in the arms of his perfect girlfriend, Anakin feels alone.

Chapter Text

It’s dark outside. It’s quiet in the apartment. Obi-Wan cleans the kitchen in silence, his phone charging on the counter, not playing a podcast or any music. He needs it to be quiet, only the sound of washing dishes to fill the space. He tries to keep his mind empty, focusing only on the repetitive motions of scrubbing the pans that can’t go in the dishwasher, and the wooden implements that have been sitting, dirty, out next to the sink, for days. 

It always happens like this. The mess builds up for days at a time and Obi-Wan just leaves it until it makes him insane, and then he spends the evening cleaning the kitchen until it’s completely spotless.

He’s just finishing scrubbing the wok he used to make dinner that night when his phone buzzing interrupts the monotonous quiet. Obi-Wan drops the wok into the soapy water and is quick to dry his hands before looking at the caller ID. 

It’s Cody. 

He answers it.

“Hello,” he says. 

“Hey,” comes Cody’s reply, and Obi-Wan holds his phone with both hands. His voice sounds a little rough, but it’s hard to tell over the phone. “Uh… can I come up? ”

Obi-Wan blinks. “Pardon me?”

“I, uh. I’m outside. I don’t-- know why. But can… can I come inside? ”

Obi-Wan clears his throat, instinctively glancing towards the window. “Of-- of course. One second, I’ll come down and get you.”

He hangs up and makes sure to grab his keys off the wall before pulling some shoes on and going downstairs to the main entrance. On his way down the stairs, he can’t help but wonder why Cody has come here this late in the evening, after the sun has gone down. 

Outside, Cody is leaning against the side of his van, hands in his pockets and looking down at the ground. It’s April now, and still chilly enough out to need at least a windbreaker, but the man is just standing there in his t-shirt. Obi-Wan can see the hairs on his arms standing up against the cool night air. Cody looks up when he comes outside to him, and his face looks drawn and haggard. 

“Hello,” 

“Hey,” they repeat their greeting from over the phone, and Cody pushes off from his car and approaches him. Obi-Wan opens the front door for him and Cody goes into the warm building without another word. Obi-Wan’s thoughts race, frantically trying to parse why Cody has come. 

They go upstairs in silence.

Obi-Wan watches Cody closely as they enter his apartment. Cody watches the floor. He seems weary as he takes off his shoes at the door, and in the brighter kitchen lights, Obi-Wan can see the bags under his eyes and the frustrated line carved into the space between his eyebrows. Obi-Wan puts his keys back and pulls his thick sweater tighter around himself, hugging his elbows. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks, his voice low, and Cody looks up at him. “We had stir fry tonight, I could heat you up the leftovers.”

He’s not sure why that’s what he offered. But it’s the easiest way for him to show people he cares-- he thinks ‘you’re important to me’, and it comes out sounding like ‘I made you dinner’. 

Cody’s eyes drift to the side then back. “No, I--” he cuts himself off halfway through declining, then sighs. “Actually, yeah, I am pretty hungry. Thanks.”

Obi-Wan swallows and nods. He goes over to the fridge and takes out the tupperware of rice and stir fry he’d put away just an hour ago. He doesn’t look at Cody as he does. Container in hand, he opens the cupboard and takes out a plate. He puts them both down on the cold stove. He opens the tupperware and grabs a fork, using it to scoop the leftovers onto the plate. He rests the fork on the tupperware lid that sits upside down on the counter, and puts the plate of chilled stir fry in the microwave and sets the timer for a minute and thirty seconds. The microwave beeps every time he presses a button, and as it heats up the food, the hum of it fills the entire space. 

He still doesn’t look back at Cody, just watches the food spin in slow circles through the foggy window in the door of the microwave. 

He really should replace this microwave. The handle on the door broke off over a year ago, and the fan is faulty. It doesn’t take steam off the stove very well. If it goes on like this for too long, the cupboards will get damaged. 

The microwave beeps again, and Obi-Wan opens it by pulling from the bottom of the door and takes the now-hot plate of food out. He picks up the fork he’d already taken out and puts it and the plate down on the table. “Here you go,” he looks back at Cody. Cody doesn’t say anything, just nods and sits down. He picks up the fork and moves the food around on the plate a little bit. When he glances at Obi-Wan again, Obi-Wan smothers a cough and sits down as well. The chair scrapes across the floor as he pulls it out. The electric lights above them hum quietly, and the only other sound is the clinking of Cody’s fork on the plate. 

He takes a bite, then another. Obi-Wan tries not to just watch as he eats. Cody barely looks up the whole time.

After a minute, Cody covers his mouth and halfheartedly laughs, more air than anything. He looks up at Obi-Wan. “It’s a little awkward just sitting here eating with you just watching,” he says with a warm twinkle in his eye. Obi-Wan straightens in his seat, cheeks pinking.

“Sorry--” He begins, but Cody waves him off. 

“It’s not bad-- it’s not you -- I feel awkward. But it’s fine. It’s just you.” He looks back down. Obi-Wan doesn’t know what that means. Still, it has a warm feeling blooming in his chest, and he cherishes it. 

“It’s good,” Cody says next, about the food. Obi-Wan smiles bashfully. 

“Thank you,” he says. “Cut has been sending us boxes of fresh vegetables-- despite my telling him it’s not necessary-- so really he and his family should get at least a little credit for the quality of the food.” 

Cody huffs. “You’re too humble,” he says, with a hint of a smile. “You made a good meal, just take the compliment.” 

The pink hue of Obi-Wan's cheeks brightens, and he looks down at the table. It’s not humility that makes praise slide right over him like water droplets rolling off a duck’s oiled feathers, but he accepts it this time. “Thank you,” he repeats, quieter this time.

Despite his initial declination of the meal, Cody eats quickly. He clears his plate, and Obi-Wan apologizes for not having a second helping left, that was the last of it. 

“It’s alright,” Cody says. “I… left in the middle of dinner, so I’d already eaten a little bit, but I was just-- driving aimlessly for a few hours, and…” 

He trails off. Obi-Wan tilts his head, a listening-attentively look on his face. “What happened?” He finally asks the question that has been on the tip of his tongue since Cody showed up at his building unannounced. 

“I…” Cody sighs, hesitant. “I had a fight to end all fights with my dad.” 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathes, “Is everything alright?” 

“No,” Cody sighs again, dragging a hand down his face tiredly. “It started off like the same damn fight we always have, but it was worse this time. Way worse. I just don’t--” He stops mid sentence. “Sorry. I just showed up here out of nowhere, ate your food, and now I’m dumping my familial problems on you for no reason. I don’t even know why I came here, I just… did, without even thinking. Sorry.” 

“It’s perfectly alright,” Obi-Wan quickly reassures him. “You’re welcome here any time, Cody. Anything you need, I’m happy to provide it.” 

“Thanks,” Cody says. “I guess… well, you’re one of my closest friends.” 

Obi-Wan nods, even as the guilt over his feelings for Cody swirls to life once more deep inside him. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen,” he says. “You don’t need to feel bad for it.” 

“Alright…” Cody’s mouth twists. He looks away. “Remember when I said my dad didn’t approve of my choice to be a teacher instead of pursuing football?”

“Yes,” 

“Well, he’s never really come around to it. He’s always reminding me that I made the wrong decision, that I’d be making a lot more money right now if I hadn’t, but he just… he doesn’t understand why I made the choice I did. Sure, if I hadn’t quit football then maybe I would be some huge famous NFL star right now, but that’s not what I want. Fame and money just aren't things I care about. I care about-- about my family, and being near them so I can take care of them, and I like teaching, and I like being a woodcarver. It… but money is all he cares about.” Cody frowns. “Okay, wait, no, that’s not fair to him. I know he cares about us, he loves us, but… he and I have different ideas of what ‘providing for your family’ means. He thinks it means going away all the time for work for his big fancy pilot’s salary, and I think it means actually being there .” 

Obi-Wan nods. Personally, he agrees with Cody’s idea of it more, personal biases and fondness aside. 

“I’ve been doing his job of actually being a dad to my little siblings for over ten god damn years, and he just doesn’t-- get it. And still somehow everything I do is wrong, and he always has something to say about how I’m still living at home, too, as if it’s some sort of personal failing of mine, like it’s-- like it’s not part of it.” 

“That sounds difficult,” Obi-Wan says. He recalls the dismissive look on Jango’s face on new year’s when he was reminded of the fact that Obi-Wan is also a public school teacher, and he recalls what Cody said then-- ‘Not this conversation again, dad.’ He’d sounded so tired. 

“It is difficult.” Obi-Wan can see Cody momentarily clench his jaw as he brings more of the events of earlier to the forefront of his memory. “He-- he said my life was pathetic, and he’d never seen more wasted potential in one person before. And when I got mad about it, and he said even though I’m a ‘big grown man’ now I’m still his son and I can’t talk back to him like that, I said-- I said we both know I haven’t been his son in a long fucking time.”

“Cody…” Obi-Wan whispers sadly. Cody shakes his head. 

“It’s not really true. I was just mad.”

“You had a right to be angry. He shouldn’t have said that to you.” 

“I know,” Cody says. “When I said it was a fight to end all fights I meant it. It was a kind of ‘everyone else hides around the corner while the two of us just scream at each other over the kitchen table’ kind of fight. We both said some really nasty shit and I… I just couldn’t take it anymore and I stormed out. Just grabbed my keys, didn’t look back, got in my car and drove away.” 

Obi-Wan nods. Cody keeps going. “Boba tried to follow me, and I just-- ignored him, I didn’t want to snap at him but I just left the poor kid standing there in the driveway and drove away and I feel like shit about it.”

“I’m sure you would feel worse if you had yelled at him,” Obi-Wan says. Cody pinches his mouth together. 

“Yeah. I’ll have to say sorry to him when I get back, I don’t want… I don’t want him to think I don’t care about him.” 

“What are you going to say to your father, though?”

“I don’t know,” Cody groans. “It just keeps getting worse and I don’t know how to get through to him. I don’t know if I can. But I’m worried it’s going to get to the point where we don’t even talk at all.”

Obi-Wan nods again. “Honestly, if you want my opinion… I think family counselling may be in order, if you feel like that outcome is inevitable as long as things don’t change.”

Cody shrugs. “I don’t know how open he would be to that but… I don’t know. Maybe things are going to change, after this. I don’t know.” He looks Obi-Wan in the eye, who hopes the catching of his breath wasn’t audible. “Do you… get it? Any of this?” 

Obi-Wan hesitates to answer, looking away and grimacing lightly. “Not… really,” he admits. He traces a fingertip along the tabletop. There’s a sticky spot he missed, he’ll have to make sure to clean it after Cody leaves. “The closest thing I had to a father died years ago, and even before that, our relationship was strained ever since I moved out. We didn’t speak at all for nearly a year before he died. I imagine the dynamic one has with their parents changes quite a bit upon reaching adulthood, but I haven’t experienced it.”

Cody looks awkward again, like he regrets asking. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan brushes some of his hair back behind his ear. “I don’t talk about my relationship with Qui-Gon very much. It’s fine.”

“Did you ever fight with him?” Cody asks, and Obi-Wan smiles lightly at him.

“Never.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan’s momentary smile slips off his face. “There were times we probably should have fought, but I never… stood up to him.”

Upon hearing that, Cody frowns deeply, and Obi-Wan realizes he didn’t word that exactly right. He swears it wasn’t as bad as it can sound, especially out of context. It was… complicated. 

“The more I hear about this Qui-Gon the more I start to think he was a total ass.” 

Obi-Wan breathes a short laugh. “It’s complicated,” he says. “But this isn’t about me, don’t think you can get away with running from your emotions by asking me about my past.”

Cody gives him a look. “I barely even asked you anything, it’s not my fault you’re so secretive.” He smirks. 

Obi-Wan huffs. “Well, all the same,” he says, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Cody nods. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Obi-Wan says. “But, really… your father shouldn’t have said those things to you. And if it’s worth anything… he’s wrong. Your life certainly isn’t pathetic and I don’t see any wasted potential in you, at all. In fact, you’re the best man I know, and I… admire you, quite a lot.” Slowly, avoiding Cody’s eye, he reaches across the corner of the table and takes Cody’s hand in his. “You’re very dear to me, Cody. And I want things to be nice for you.” 

He dares a glance up at Cody’s face, and is almost shocked when he looks near tears. He feels Cody squeeze his hand, feels every callus the man has built up over his years as a carpenter, and feels his wretched heart beat harder in response, like his ribs are a cage and the treacherous organ is a panicked dove trapped inside, wings beating frantically against the bone. 

“Thank you,” Cody whispers, and Obi-Wan feels there is nothing more he can say without tripping over the line between strengthening their friendship and ruining it. 

They sit in silence for a moment longer, looking into each other’s eyes, and Obi-Wan gets the sense that Cody is searching for something in his, the way the man’s focus seems to have tunnelled on him. Obi-Wan hopes he doesn’t see how badly Obi-Wan wishes he could kiss him right now, even though he knows it will never happen.

Soon, the places where their skin is touching start to itch, a burn that skitters around under his skin, and Obi-Wan doesn’t want to let go, but he does. He pulls his hand back and Cody lets him go without a fight. Obi-Wan sort of wishes Cody would hold on to him tighter, keep him there, keep him from withdrawing when it becomes too much-- maybe then it wouldn’t be too much anymore. Every time it becomes too much, it was still never enough.

That would never happen, though, Obi-Wan knows that. He can’t imagine Cody would ever want to. 

He stands from his seat and takes Cody’s plate, bringing it over to the sink. The water he had been washing the dishes in has gone cold. 

“I should go,” Cody says. “I don’t want to be gone too long.” 

“I’ll walk you down,” Obi-wan says, though his heart sinks at the thought of Cody leaving. 

He is too selfish. He wants too much. 

They both put on their shoes and go downstairs. “I hope it goes well,” Obi-Wan says as they walk the scant few meters to Cody’s car. “I hope you and your father manage to at least get on the same page… I’d hate for you to have the same regrets I do.” 

“Thank you,” Cody says. He unlocks his car. “Oh,” he turns back to face Obi-Wan, “are we all still on for Friday?” 

Friday: now that the football season is over, Quinlan has been trying to drag Cody into their weekly Fridays out. This is the first time Cody has relented and agreed to come. Obi-Wan privately thinks it’s going to be disastrous, prolonged exposure between Quinlan and Cody and alcohol mixed in. 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says. Cody nods, but still lingers at the driver’s side door of his car. 

“I… thank you, again. For everything. I needed that.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan repeats. “If ever you need anything, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Obi-Wan.” Cody smiles, and Obi-Wan shivers as he smiles back. He pulls his sleeves down over his hands and wraps his arms around himself, but it’s not just from the cold. Cody waves once, gets in his car, and Obi-Wan steps back as the engine turns on. 

Cody drives away. Obi-Wan stays standing there, shivering in the cool spring night, breathless. In the light of the streetlamps, he sees that the trees are starting to bud.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says as he puts his scarf on Friday evening. “There’s food in the fridge, you can heat something up or make something, that’s fine, please do remind Anakin if you can to venture out of his room at least once to eat dinner.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not meant to be your responsibility, but--”

“It’s fine, Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka says from where she’s leaning against the kitchen counter, looking down at something on her phone. “I’ll tell him.” 

“Thank you. I’ll probably be home late-- Quinlan does like to drag these out-- probably not until after you’ll already be in bed, so, have a good night, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yep,” Ahsoka says, looking up from her phone and waving. “See ya.”

Obi-Wan waves goodbye to her and leaves, going down to the front entrance where it says his Uber will be arriving in just a minute. Really, Obi-Wan should drive himself, to make sure he doesn’t get drunk because really, considering the circumstances of tonight, he probably shouldn’t. But he kind of needs it-- not needs it , needs it, but he needs to unwind. And if he makes a fool of himself in front of Cody again, then, well. That will just be too bad. 

The days are getting longer. The sun is only just going down when Obi-Wan reaches their usual bar. He goes inside and immediately makes his way to the booth they always occupy, sure enough, to see Quinlan, Kit, and Cody already there. For a second Obi-Wan internally panics at the idea that Quinlan has been telling Cody Things, but forces himself to calm down as he approaches-- as much as Quinlan likes to tease, he wouldn’t actually do that to Obi-Wan. 

But once he actually reaches the booth, he has another moment of panic: Quinlan and Kit are both occupying one side, leaving the only open space to be the one right next to Cody. They all look up and smile at his arrival, though, Obi-Wan can’t help but notice, Cody jumps as if startled when he notices him. Obi-Wan pushes it down, sliding smoothly as he can onto the bench next to him. 

“Hey, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan grins, a drink already in his hand. “You made it!” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Obi-Wan replies sarcastically. Quinlan laughs and takes a long drink of his beer. Obi-Wan smiles at Kit and Cody. “Hello,” he says to them, much more cheerfully. Cody smiles back at him, any traces of apprehension in him already gone.

Kit smirks at him. “Quinlan was telling embarrassing stories about you.” 

“What!” Obi-Wan whips his head around to glare-- in jest of course-- at Quinlan. “I can’t believe you.” 

“Excuse me, they were funny stories!” Quinlan laughs. He glances at Cody, who straightens, and Obi-Wan loathes to think what Quinlan was telling him.

“Did you really explode a partially-dissected frog in bio when you were in high school?” Cody asks him, and Obi-Wan gasps, glaring at Quinlan again. 

“Pinning it on me!” He cries in disbelief. “It was you who blew up that frog-- as if anyone would believe it was me, everyone knows I was far too debilitatingly anxious back then to try anything of the sort!” He turns to Cody and sniffs. “If you really believed that, I’d be extremely disappointed.”

“I didn’t,” Cody says. “That’s why I asked. Come on, I know you better than that.” 

“Well,” Obi-Wan coughs, ignoring Quinlan smirking at him from the opposite corner of the booth. “I suppose you’re right.” 

They order drinks and some fries for all of them to share. Obi-Wan embraces the buzz of the alcohol eagerly, wanting little more than to wash away the stress of the last… few weeks, that he’s had. 

It doesn’t take long for the buzz to become a constant burn at the back of his throat as he finishes more drinks. A couple of hours later, he’s struggling to keep his head up. “Fuck, I’m so tired,” he groans.

“Have you not been sleeping well lately?” Kit asks, and Obi-Wan laughs. 

“When have I ever slept well?” He says sardonically. Kit just gives him a concerned look, and Obi-Wan sighs. “It’s Anakin,” he admits.

“What’s the little stinker done now?” Quinlan says. Obi-Wan just droops further. He doesn’t want to be a wet blanket, just constantly talking about his troubles with Anakin, but it’s always at the forefront of his mind. 

“He hasn’t gone to fencing in almost a full month,” he groans. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. “That along with everything else… I’m at my wits end. I just don’t know what to do. He won’t listen to me, won’t even talk to me at all, not without shouting at me.”

“Maybe you should be firmer with him,” Cody says, “Set harder boundaries.” 

“And just drive him further away? I can’t,” Obi-Wan blinks. “I feel like… I’ve failed him. It’s so clear he’s struggling with something but he won’t let me help him. He won’t even tell me what’s wrong. I don’t know what happened… and for some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen this before. I don’t know what to do…“

Kit nods sympathetically, and Cody reaches up and rubs his shoulder. Obi-Wan can’t even pretend not to lean into the touch. He feels the beginning of tears pricking hot behind his eyes, his throat closing up, and he hides his face.

“Hey…” Quinlan says, through his fingers Obi-Wan sees Quinlan climb over Kit to exit the booth, and come around to squeeze into his side and put an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “You haven’t failed him, it’s just a rough patch. You’re both gonna get through this just fine, okay?”

For all that he teases, Quinlan is one of his best and oldest friends; he knows when to joke and when to be sincere. 

“I agree,” Kit says. “Everything will be alright in the end.”

“He’ll come around,” Cody says. “You just need to keep being there for him.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything for fear that the dam will break. He tries taking deep breaths to ground himself, but his lungs rattle and it doesn’t work, the alcohol has thrown him off balance. 

This was a bad idea. 

“What do you need?” Quinlan asks him. “Another drink? Some food? Water?” 

It’s loud in the bar, too loud. Too many people yelling and yelling louder to be heard over everyone else yelling. There’s some sort of sports game playing on the tv, people shout at it over the yelling, and the music. 

“Some water,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Please.”

“Okay,” Quinan pats him on the shoulder and stands. “I’ll go get you some water. Be right back.” 

He goes, weaving through the crowd and the small tables towards the bar. Obi-Wan sighs, leaning further into the warmth radiating off of Cody next to him. Cody is always so warm, it’s wonderful. 

“I really have failed him,” he mumbles. “It’s not just the fencing, or the fact that he’s skipping classes, or… he’s just so angry all the time , and I’ve seen it building, I’ve just watched helplessly as he pushes further and further away from me and there’s nothing I can do… I’m so useless .” Obi-Wan knows he sounds defeated. It’s because he is. He feels beaten down and strung out and frayed, useless and stagnant. 

“That’s not true,” Kit says, as Cody’s hand drifts across his back to hold his opposite shoulder. “You have done a lot for Anakin. Whatever it is he’s struggling with, he will come to you eventually. You must be patient, waiting for him with open arms, even when he hurts you. It’s your role as a parent.” 

Obi-Wan jolts upright. “I-- I’m not his parent --” 

“You are,” Quinlan comes back with a large glass of water and sets it down on the table in front of Obi-Wan. “I don’t know why both of you are always denying it. You’re his dad, like it or not.”

“I--” Obi-Wan’s throat tightens, and he reaches for the water. “Well, I suppose that would explain why I’ve done such a pisspoor job of raising him. I don’t know how to be a father. Certainly not a good one.” 

“Bullshit,” Cody’s tone is soft despite the harshness of the word itself. “You’re doing a great job, the only thing holding you back is you don’t believe in yourself. Seriously, dads as good as you are are one in a thousand.” 

Obi-Wan takes a long drink of water to delay having to respond. Cody’s arm is still around him, and he can feel each of his broad fingers curled around his shoulder, holding him together. The water doesn’t actually instantly make him more sober as it goes down, but it’s a cold relief in the bar that’s rapidly becoming stifling, and he likes to imagine it magically sobers him. 

He has to put the glass down when he realizes how hard his hands are shaking. 

“You don’t understand,” he whispers, “he hates me.” 

“He doesn’t,” Cody says. “He doesn’t. Everyone can see how much he looks up to you.” 

“You don’t know the things he’s said to me.” Obi-Wan says lowly. “He hates me.” 

It’s all just so much, weighing him down like bags of sand tied around his neck, and he hasn’t the strength to lift them away. Then, like the emotional weight has become physical, he lists to the side, until his head is resting on Cody’s shoulder.

Normally, he would never dare to do this. Even as he feels Cody stiffen under him and then relax just as quickly, still holding him, he is just too tired to move away. He’s too tired to try and convince himself Cody’s presence, touch and voice shouldn’t soothe him as much as they do. 

He’s too tired to fully notice when Quinlan and Kit exchange looks and exit the booth, leaving the two of them alone. 

Obi-Wan turns his face further into Cody’s shoulder and sighs. 

“Do you really never sleep well?” Cody asks. Obi-Wan shrugs and presses closer. 

“No, I can’t sleep, not with… all of it, in my head, alone with it in the dark.” He’s not confident he’s being fully coherent, but it hardly matters. Gravity pulls the words from his mouth, and Obi-Wan just lets them tumble out. “But I could fall asleep just like this. I could with you here, I think.

I love you.”

He doesn’t even hear himself say it. 

But Cody stiffens like he’s been flash-frozen as Obi-Wan drifts, sinking further towards sleep. It’s too loud in there for him to properly sleep, but it’s still a nice thought. Then the sound of Cody’s breath hitching cuts through the fog, and Obi-Wan realizes just how stone-still the man he’s leaning on is, and he realizes guiltily that he has lingered far too long. 

He forces himself to push himself upright away from Cody, who instantly lets go of him and returns his arm to his side. Obi-Wan reaches for his water glass, shame burning hot within him. He overstepped. He strayed too close. He tripped over the line. 

Even draining the glass doesn’t help put the fire out, and Obi-Wan tugs at his collar. It’s suddenly far, far too loud in there. 

“I— I need some air,” he says, looking down and already gathering his coat. “I’m going outside.”

“Want some company?” Obi-Wan looks up when Cody speaks. He has an almost nervously earnest look on his face, and suddenly Obi-Wan’s mouth feels too dry. 

“...yes please,” he says when he finds his voice again. “If you’re offering yours.”

“I always am.” 

They go outside. The crisp night air is an instant balm on Obi-Wan’s heated skin, and he breathes deeply, feeling a little better— at least, a little more sober. 

They walk for a short while, not really with any particular direction in mind. “It’s chilly out,” Obi-Wan says, shivering, and Cody laughs. 

“It’s really not,” the man says, “you’re just sensitive to the cold.”

“‘S not my fault,” Obi-Wan grumbles, breathing on his hands to warm them up. 

“Here,” Cody says, still smiling, and Obi-Wan stifles a gasp when he reaches over and takes one of Obi-Wan’s cold hands in his warm one. “Does that help?” 

“I-- yes,” Obi-Wan hopes Cody will only think his cheeks are red because he’s cold. 

They come to the entrance of a city park. It’s less brightly lit within it, and there are fewer people. Cody makes to turn into it, and Obi-Wan follows. It’s April, the last traces of snow are disappearing, and leaves are starting to form more on the trees, the yearly cycle of new life evident. 

“You know, I…” Cody says as they walk down the path, hand in hand. “I’m not really that great with words. Not like how you are. But I… ah, I don’t know.”

Obi-Wan glances curiously at him. Cody looks down at his feet, with flushed cheeks and a furrow in his brow. Obi-Wan wants to reach up and brush it away. 

“I feel like…” Cody looks quickly at him and then away again. “I feel like, when I’m with you, I never have to think about who I’m letting down in that moment. It’s just this-- this feeling of peace, and, and like I actually have control over my life instead of just being passive in all of it.” 

His steps slow and so do Obi-Wan’s, until they stop under a lamp, just the two of them in the small circle of light in the spring night. Obi-Wan looks at Cody intently, trying to parse out what he means. Cody still looks down. Obi-Wan’s heartbeat quickens when Cody takes a step towards him, and Obi-Wan stays still in place. There’s barely inches between them. 

“I don’t mind moving forward slowly if you’re the one walking next to me,” Cody murmurs, finally looking Obi-Wan in the eye, and what Obi-Wan sees within his gaze actually does make him gasp softly. It’s this… desire , this cautious longing, and-- Obi-Wan understands what he means. Cody slowly reaches up with the hand not already intertwined with his, like he’s trying not to spook him, and brushes his hair back behind his ear. He finishes the motion by cupping his cheek, and Obi-Wan trembles. 

“Cody, I…” Obi-Wan whispers, listing forward towards Cody like a magnet. “I…”

“I know,” Cody smiles. “You told me.”

Obi-Wan’s heart swoops. “I did, didn’t I?” 

They lean in closer, just a fraction of an inch, just enough to feel the ghosts of their breath on each other’s faces, and the panic rises in him, they’re so close, they’re too close, it’s too much, it burns, it burns like fucking holy fire, Cody’s fingers laced with his and Cody’s fingers stroking his cheekbone and still Cody holds him there, keeps him there, and Obi-Wan reaches out to touch him, puts his hand on the back of his neck and feels the bristle of the hairs that are cropped close to his skin there, and Obi-Wan shakes and--

And Cody kisses him. 

And it’s divine, they’re impossibly close, nose pressed to cheek and hands pulling the other inwards, he’s imploding. It’s more intimacy than Obi-Wan has shared with another person in nearly a bloody decade and his heart is rupturing , blood pouring out and filling every empty crevice in his body, the-- the love pouring out his mouth and into Cody’s mouth as they kiss and kiss and kiss in the light in the dark in the night in the spring. 

And when he pulls away and opens his eyes, Obi-Wan half-expects to see his blood on Cody’s lips but there is no blood, there is only an incandescent grin.

And that is when Obi-Wan ruins everything. 

He chokes. He’s still fixated on blood but it’s just a sob, caught in his throat. It makes an ugly noise, and where before the other man’s burning touch was like the cleansing wash of a solar flare now it is just boiling water and it hurts him, and Obi-Wan’s veins have that boiling water in them so he must be hurting Cody too, and he snatches himself away and turns to flee, the cold air rushing into the chasm opened between them--

“I’m sorry--” Obi-Wan gasps, and--

Cody keeps him there, gripping his hand almost harshly, keeping him from withdrawing, pulling him back around. “Obi-Wan, stop!” the man practically pleads, confusion and pending hurt in his voice, and Obi-Wan did that. “Why are you running from this?”

Obi-Wan wrenches his hand from Cody’s grasp, and he’s tempted to look down to see if the skin has ripped off but he doesn’t. “Because I can’t do this, Cody!” He cries, “Whatever it is you see in me that you want I promise you it’s not really me! I can’t— I can’t give that to you!”

He takes another quick step back, and another when Cody takes a half-step towards him. Cody doesn’t try to get closer to him again. His face twists into something angry, hurt, it’s right there, Obi-Wan did that. “You think I don’t know you?!” He yells, “What are you so afraid of!”

“I’m--” Obi-Wan looks for an escape, but it’s just the open night on all sides around them. He takes another step back towards the edge of their little circle of light. “I can’t, I’m sorry--”

“You can’t, or you won’t!”

“I can’t !” Obi-Wan all but wails. He needs Cody to understand but there isn’t enough time. “You deserve so much better--”

“Maybe it’s up to me to decide what I deserve!”

“Well then I don’t deserve you! You don’t-- understand --” Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to make him understand, “All I’ve ever done is ruin things and you mean so much to me, Cody, I-- I couldn’t bear to break your heart…”

Then Cody seems to just stop, like there was something scrambling around behind his eyes that suddenly stills, and his face isn’t angry anymore, just sad, like softened wax. His hands drop to his sides. “I think it’s too late for that,” he says. His voice is just empty. 

Obi-Wan turns and runs, because he’s a coward. 

When Obi-Wan comes in the door, the lamp in the living room is on. He startles as the door closes, and Ahsoka, who is sitting on the couch on her phone, looks up. 

“You’re still up,” Obi-Wan breathes, and Ahsoka looks at the time bewilderedly. Her eyebrows raise. 

“Shi-- shoot, I didn’t even realize how late it was,” she says. Obi-Wan struggles to get his shoes off, and Ahsoka stands from the couch, stretching. “I’m going to bed.” 

“Right,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracks just the slightest bit, and Ahsoka does a subtle double take. She must notice the red around his eyes and the slump of his shoulders, because she asks, 

“Wait, are you okay?” 

“Fine,” Obi-Wan responds too quickly. He wrests his coat off and crosses the apartment in long strides to his bedroom door. “Perfectly fine.” 

He goes into his room and closes the door. Ahsoka goes to bed. 

Chapter Text

Sunlight, finally, blessedly warm sunlight-- by the end of April, the winter clouds have finally parted and the sun shines full force once again. And with the sun, after-school football practise has moved back from weight training to drills outside once again. 

It’s a whole spectacle, nearly every practise there’s people gathered on the bleachers in the back field to watch, but with the warm weather it’s almost a whole crowd. Kix is there with an open textbook in his lap, Tup and Dogma sitting next to him, a whole bunch of cheerleaders including Keasha, and Key, who is hardly being subtle about the moon eyes he’s sending Rex’s way. Other students dot the rest of the bleachers, enjoying the mindless entertainment of a bunch of football guys running around the field in their gear and bumping into each other for seemingly no reason. It probably serves a purpose, but it sorta does look funny.

The comedic effect is enhanced by the fact that they all take it very seriously-- or maybe not all of them. 

It seems as though the pure infectious joy that comes with new warm weather has gotten to some of the football players, but none more than Hardcase, who cuts every maneuver with a cartwheel or a flourish or a twirl of some kind. Obviously enjoying the spring warmth, practically frolicking in the evenly cut grass. Only one person on the field can’t seem to match his good cheer-- to no one’s surprise, it’s Coach Krell. The twitch under his eye is visible every time Hardcase goofs off. The straw that breaks the camel’s back is when he does a backflip off a bench, just for fun. 

“69!” Krell thunders suddenly, his voice booming out over the field, and everyone else has to keep in a snicker. “Get over here, now!” 

Subtle ‘ooh’s and ‘uh oh’s rise up in the numbers as Hardcase jogs over to the coach with a little nervous laugh. “What’s up, boss?”

Krell stomps up to Hardcase as soon as he’s in range and gets right up in his face, poking him hard in the chest with a dark glare. Everyone pauses what they’re doing to watch the altercation, and Rex drifts closer. 

“What’s up is you can’t seem to take a damn thing seriously,” Krell snarls, and Hardcase leans back, smile long gone. “I’ve had just about enough of your clowning around.”

A small crowd of football players forms around them, and Krell pokes Hardcase again, and Hardcase’s shoulders shift. “You have no respect!” Krell barks, and the tension simmers higher amongst the crowd. Rex pushes himself through to the front. Next to him, Jesse and Fives are both practically vibrating with anger. “Not for the game, not for your teammates, and certainly not for me! You better get yourself in line before I have to teach you some respect!” 

And with that he actually shoves Hardcase, with both hands, pushing him back and nearly all the way off his feet before two of their teammates catch him, a shocked-dazed look on his face. It turns to fear when Krell starts to advance on him again, and Jesse and Fives both jump out from the crowd in between them. 

“Leave Hardcase alone!” Jesse shouts, at the same time that Fives yells, 

“It’s you who doesn’t have any respect for us!”

Noise starts rippling up in the crowd as everyone has something to chime in, and Rex feels a strange rumbling beneath their feet, a feeling that something is coming. Krell isn’t deterred by Jesse and Fives’ defence of Hardcase, and keeps pushing forward with a thunderous look on his face, knocking into them even as they hold their ground. 

Something is coming. The crowd closes in, and Rex steps forward. “Everybody calm down,” he says, but he’s either not heard or ignored. The tension rises and it’s about to snap-- 

“You can’t speak to me like that, 55!” Krell growls dangerously, “You should know your place by now!” 

He goes to push Fives out of the way, knocks Jesse to the side. Fives stands steadfast, pushing back against Krell as if he could actually put some distance between them and the behemoth of a man-- and that’s when Krell has had enough. He snarls, and Rex tries to get between them again-- “Coach, please stand down,”-- but he’s swept aside just as easily.

Krell grabs Five’s forearm-- Fives is still small and Krell is ginormous, his hand wraps all the way around the kid’s limb-- and throws him on the ground--

There’s a sick snap and then 

Fives hits the ground and 

Screams , curling into a ball and cradling his arm that’s

Bent the wrong way and

Rex snaps

Krell lifts his leg like he’s going to kick Fives when he’s down and as students start swarming down from the bleachers Rex 

Launches himself at Krell, throwing himself onto his shoulders and tackling him to the ground with a shout 

Everyone is yelling, chaos breaks out

Krell twists under him and throws a punch to his torso that almost knocks Rex off him but Rex is too lost in the rage that’s built up over the years at Krell to let go

He punches back, getting Krell right in the eye and pain races up his hand as his knuckles collide with Krell’s hard skull 

Krell roars and Rex hit him again, and again, and Krell hits him back with a fist to his head this time hard enough that Rex’s vision swims but he still doesn’t let up.

Kix practically flies down from the bleachers to Fives’ side, Echo hot on his heels, kneeling in the grass next to his little cousin that’s shaking on the ground amongst the stomping feet. “Everybody make some fucking space!” He shouts, and the crowd around them dissipates like opposite magnets. 

“Fives!” Echo says to his twin, “Fives are you okay--” 

Fives twists, revealing his arm that’s bent like he’s been given a second elbow, already swollen and mottled purple and bleeding, and Echo leans back with a gasp, both hands over his mouth. He looks green. Fives whimpers, gritting his teeth so hard Kix is surprised his jaw hasn’t cracked. Kix feels a little nauseous himself, looking at it, but he shoves it down. He shoves it down. 

Him and Jesse try to pull him away from the fray as gently as they can, mindful of his broken arm, and Fives bites back another scream-- it hurts to move, but they don’t want him to get crushed.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Kix tries to soothe him as best he can, pushing his little cousin’s hair back away from his sweaty forehead. Echo crawls after them, attached to his twin’s side, panic on his face. Hardcase hovers over them, glancing every other second between them and the fight raging between Rex and Krell just meters away.

Kix looks over his shoulder to the others that have swarmed down from the bleachers. Hardcase’s little brother Dogma is the closest. “Call 911!” Kix says to him, “And someone go find uncle Ninety-Nine!” 

Dogma looks shaken but pulls out his cellphone as instructed, and Tup breaks off from the group and runs back towards the school at top speed. Kix turns back to Fives, who still shakes with barely-suppressed whimpers. His eyes are red and squeezed shut. “Hey,” he whispers. “It’s okay to cry, if it hurts, you can cry, it’s fine. Just let it out. You’re gonna be okay.” 

Just like a dam broken the mask shatters, and Fives wails, tears streaming down his face. Echo grips his shoulder, trying to comfort him. 

“I need a cloth!” Kix shouts back over his shoulder, and a couple seconds later someone throws him a white t-shirt. He grabs it out of the air and says to Fives, “Sorry, this is going to hurt,” and carefully takes his hurt arm, pressing the cotton shirt to the wound. Fives cries out at the pressure and Kix winces in sympathy, but doesn’t let up. 

“They’re on the way,” Dogma pops back in. “They said to put pressure on it if it’s bleeding.” 

“Already on it,” Kix pinches his mouth as he lifts Fives’ arm just higher than his heart, trying to get the swelling to go down. Fives’ breath hitches painfully every time his arm shifts, and Kix winces again.

“Is the ambulance coming soon?” Echo asks, and Dogma nods. 

“Just a few minutes out I think, cops too.” 

“Great,” Jesse frowns. “Just what we need. Fucking cops.” 

Behind them, the commotion rises, and Kix glances over at the crowd formed around the brawl still going on between Rex and Krell. 

Key comes running over to them from the fray. “No one can pull them apart,” he gasps, “They’re gonna fucking kill each other!”

Hardcase and Jesse both stand and throw themselves into it, joining the people trying to separate the football captain and coach. Keasha puts a hand on Key’s arm, both their eyes locked on the near-rabid scene. 

“This is fucking crazy,” Kix hears the head cheerleader whisper over Fives’ cries. “This is fucking crazy.”

Drops of blood fly from Rex’s knuckles as they twist in the grass, thrashing and snarling and going for each other’s throats. The shouts around them are drowned out by the pounding in his head and the furious blood rushing in Rex’s ears-- the hands trying and failing to pull them apart are nothing to him, he has had enough of Krell’s bullshit and it ends today -- the shouts don’t get through, he doesn’t snap back out of the haze of trying to smash Krell’s face in until the sirens are right on top of them, and solid hands around his shoulders and arms like stone wrench him away from the piece of shit coach. 

It’s quiet in the school. Afternoon sun streams in through the windows, and Obi-Wan sighs as he and Ahsoka walk through the halls towards the teacher’s parking lot. Anakin skipped fencing again , which he supposes should be no surprise at this point, but he’s also been absent from school the entire second half of the day, an absence Obi-Wan certainly didn’t authorize. No one knows where he is-- even Palpatine was asking after him at fencing practise. Anakin hasn’t responded to any of his texts or messages thus far-- again, not a surprise anymore-- but if they get home and Anakin isn’t there he’s not sure what he’s going to do.

They go into the stairwell where the nearest door to the outside is, and Obi-Wan almost stops in his tracks when he sees the person already at the exit, a few scant meters ahead of them. 

At the sound of the stairwell door opening Cody turns his head to look back at them with a blank, almost bored, expression. Him and Obi-Wan make direct eye contact and Obi-Wan wants to crawl out of his skin, but Cody appears unaffected by his presence, that same blank look never leaving his face. 

Obi-Wan hopes Cody will just walk out and leave them behind so he can go back to desperately trying to forget about his shame instead of being directly confronted with it. 

But he doesn’t. He opens the door and steps aside, silently holding it open for them both, because he’s a good, kind person who doesn’t deserve to have anything bad happen to him ever and wow Obi-Wan really hates himself.

Ahsoka skips ahead, thanking Cody cheerfully, and Cody nods at her as she walks out. 

Obi-Wan hopes Cody will let go of the door and let it shut in Obi-Wan’s face, but Cody isn’t petty either and continues to hold it for him. Obi-Wan drops his gaze as he passes him in the doorway. 

“Afternoon, Cody,” He says quietly, trying to at least be polite. Cody’s stony expression doesn’t shift. 

“Mr. Kenobi,” Cody greets him back just as coldly, and Obi-Wan nearly flinches. 

He deserves that. 

Before anything else any more passive aggressive can happen, Ahsoka’s voice cuts through the awkward tension. 

“Whoa, what’s going on?” She says, and Cody and Obi-Wan both follow her around the corner to look. 

“What the fuck,” Cody frowns, as they see an ambulance and three cop cars pull up at the back field. Where football practise was being held.

“Something is happening,” Obi-Wan says, and all three of them automatically make way towards the commotion. 

“I think there’s a fight!” Ahsoka breaks out into a run, and Cody squints, then his eyes widen. 

“Shit!” He hisses and starts to run himself, passing Ahsoka quickly on his longer legs, and Obi-Wan follows them both until they’re close enough to see what’s going on. He gasps. 

Several police officers are pulling Rex and Krell apart, faces and fists bloody, baring their teeth at each other. Fives is curled on the ground, Kix stepping back as the paramedics surround him. Ninety-Nine is there, talking to them, and the cops start putting both Krell and Rex in cuffs. 

“What the hell is going on!” Cody pushes through the crowd into the thick of it. “Wh-- Fox !” 

The cop dragging Rex backwards away from Krell looks up, and it’s like seeing double as the cop and Cody just stare at each other, mirrored looks of shock on both their faces. Then the spell is broken and the cop-- Fox’s face hardens, and he goes back to roughly pulling Rex’s arms behind his back and putting the handcuffs on him.

Krell jerks and thrashes where multiple cops are restraining him. “You think this is over?!” The man shouts at Rex, “I have friends, connections! You little piece of shit, I’m going to ruin your life!” He spits and rages, blood hot red pouring down from his nose, dripping from his mouth, staining his teeth and streaming down his chin. Rex just looks lost, eyes wide and distant. He doesn’t resist as the cops manhandle him around. 

“What happened here!” Cody runs over to his little brother. “Fox, what the fuck are you doing, let him go!” 

“Sir,” Two cops step in front of Cody and try to shepherd him back away from Rex. “We’re going to need you to calm down.” 

“Calm down,” Cody repeats incredulously, “You’re putting my little brother in cuffs!” 

Under the din of dozens of voices speaking at once, Fox tells Rex he’s under arrest and reads him his rights. Rex says nothing as he’s pulled to his feet and pushed towards the cop car by Fox and another cop.

“Rex did nothing wrong!” Jesse shouts from the other side of the circle that has formed around the whole debacle. “Let him go!” 

“Let him go! Let him go!” The crowd starts to chant, but the cops don’t listen, just put Rex in the back of the cop car. 

“Rex!” Cody tries to run after him again, but the cops are still blocking his way, and he feels a warm weathered hand settle on his arm. Cody turns to see Ninety-Nine standing behind him. “Uncle, what is going on?” Cody asks, completely lost. 

“From what I can tell,” Ninety-Nine says, frowning. “Krell broke Fives’ arm, and Rex jumped him.” 

“Fi--” Cody looks over at where Fives is being gently led into the back of the ambulance by the paramedics, Echo trailing just behind. His face falls, and his body can’t decide if it wants to go to Fives or Rex more. “I--” 

“It’s alright,” Ninety-Nine soothes him, “I’ll go with Fives to the hospital. You follow Rex to the police station, he needs you.”

Cody swallows and nods, looking between two of his little brothers both being put into the backs of different first responder vehicles. Ninety-Nine limps quickly over to the ambulance and climbs in with the help of Echo just before the doors are shut and the ambulance peels away. The crowd jitters like a swarm of upset wasps, buzzing around him on all sides. He watches, completely helpless, as the car that has Rex trapped inside leaves as well, the car that Krell was shoved into the back of hot behind it, and the third following right after. The crowd starts to disperse, people talking amongst themselves with different levels of anxiety, the frenetic energy filling the air like radiation. 

Cody’s little cousins are looking to him for guidance. “I--” he chokes. “I’m going to the police station. I--” He turns back towards the parking lot, away from the watching eyes, and digs his keys out of his pocket. They jangle loudly in his shaking hands. His vision blurs for a second before going back to normal. An image of auburn hair and cream fabric appears at his side. He looks up at Obi-Wan standing next to him with a worried but steady look in his eyes. 

“I’ll drive you,” He offers gently, and Cody doesn’t think before he nods, all his frustration and anger at the man swept aside in the tidal wave of this new crisis. 

They set off towards the parking lot, and Jesse runs up to him. “Hey, Cody,” he says, “If you’re going with Mr. Kenobi, can I have your keys? We wanna go to the hospital.”

“Yeah,” Cody unhooks the keyring from its place around his thumb and tosses them to Jesse. 

In the parking lot, he and Obi-Wan head towards Obi-Wan’s car, while his cousins start piling into his van, Jesse getting behind the wheel. Ahsoka seems to dither before ultimately trailing after him and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan turns and stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m going with you,” She says, her expression as determined as it is nervous. Obi-Wan gets a somewhat awkward look on his face, his eyebrows drawn up and together in concern. 

“Ahsoka, I’d really rather you didn’t accompany us to the police station.” 

Ahsoka starts to protest. “But Rex--”

“I know, I know,” Obi-Wan says. “But it’s-- this is a very tense situation, and I don’t want to think about the worst that could come about from having you being literally surrounded by police officers. I don’t trust them.”

“I…” Ahsoka hesitates, and Obi-Wan gives her a quick hug that she readily returns before letting go again. 

“Go, be with your friends.” Obi-Wan tells her. “They need your support right now.”

She nods, her jaw set. “Okay.” She turns back to the group getting into the van, that held the backseat door open for her, and she gets in. Jesse wastes no time driving off. Cody takes a shaking breath as they watch the van disappear down the road, and gets in the passenger side of Obi-Wan’s subaru. Obi-Wan starts the car without a word and they head out. 

The ride to the police station is tense and quiet, a high voltage quiet, Cody’s leg jitters under the dash and Obi-Wan keeps casting worried glances at him. 

Obi-Wan definitely goes over the speed limit the whole drive there, and they make it in short time. Cody launches out of the car before it’s even fully parked, running into the police station. Obi-Wan turns the car off and runs in after him.

When he gets in there Cody is talking to the cop behind the desk, obviously putting a lot of effort into keeping his cool as he slowly explains that his little brother is here and he needs to see him, stretching his words out as he leans a heavy hand on the desk. The cop looks completely indifferent, obviously not giving a shit about Cody’s plight. Obi-Wan hovers over his shoulder, and the cop leans over to talk to him around Cody. 

“Hey sir, can I help you with anything?” he cuts Cody off mid-sentence, and Obi-Wan frowns, crossing his arms. 

“Oh no, I’m just here for support. It’s him you want to talk to,” he gestures to Cody as he doesn’t even attempt to hide his derision for the cop. The pig-- sorry lol, PoLiCe OfFiCer, shifts awkwardly in his seat, and looks back to Cody while Obi-Wan glowers at him from over Cody’s shoulder.

“Uh--” He’s interrupted by a new voice appearing in the doorway behind the desk. 

“I got this, Boris.” The cop from earlier, the one Cody recognized, Fox, steps out into the lobby, and Cody straightens immediately upon seeing him, a cold hard look falling over his face, like a sheet of steel pulled up like a shield. Fox himself straightens under Cody’s eye, but his cool, evenly professional demeanour doesn’t falter. 

“Fox,” Cody says. “Take me to see him.” 

Fox doesn’t say anything for a moment, just standing there staring down Cody. Cody doesn’t back down. “Now.” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flit back and forth between them, trying to figure out what their relationship is. They’re clearly related, but how, and what has happened between them-- Obi-Wan has never even heard of Fox. 

Eventually, Fox relents, and turns back towards the doorway, jerking his head to indicate to Cody to follow him. Cody does, looking back at Obi-Wan over his shoulder as he goes. 

“Wait here?” He asks, and Obi-Wan nods. 

Cody follows Fox to the police station to the rooms where they question suspects. Fox silently opens one of the doors and Cody steps in, to see Rex sitting alone in the room, cuffed to the table in the center, shoulders slumped. He looks up when Cody walks in, and visibly perks up, looking like he’s going to try and stand up for a second before he gets caught on the cuffs around his wrist hooked to the table, and he jerks back down into his seat. 

“Cody!” Rex says, and Cody rushes to his little brother’s side. Rex glances over his shoulder, and Cody looks back to see Fox also step into the room, standing by the closed door with his arms crossed and that same hardened look on his face that Cody hates. Cody just turns back to Rex, focusing all his attention on the younger of his two brothers. 

Rex looks terrible. It’s obvious he picked a fight with someone way bigger than him, his nose is swollen and purple and his lip is split and there’s dark black bruising already forming around his eye and his jaw and his temple. There’s an ice pack on the table next to his arms, untouched, and Cody glances down at it. 

“They gave me an ice pack, but my hands are still cuffed down so I can’t use it,” Rex says, a hint of humour in his voice. Cody sighs, grabbing the chair from the opposite side of the table and dragging it around with a sharp scraping sound to place the seat next to Rex. He sits, taking the ice pack in hand, and carefully lifts it to Rex’s eye where the swelling is worst. 

Rex hisses at the cold contact, and Cody pulls it back with a mumbled apology, keeping the touch of the ice pack light. “Aw, Rex,” Cody says, his voice low and soft. “Are you okay? Don’t-- don’t say anything about what happened, who knows what the cops might try to hold against you, but… how are you feeling?”

Rex’s face twists miserably, and he looks down. Cody smooths a comforting hand over his brother’s buzzed hair. “Terrible,” Rex whispers. “I’m sorry, Cody…” 

“Hey,” Cody coos, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m proud of you.” 

Rex looks up at him with wide eyes, traces of tears teasing at the corners of his eyes. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Cody smiles at him. “Look, I… I’m not sure how, but we’re going to figure this out, alright? You’re going to be alright.”

Rex nods, and Cody shifts his arm, careful not to bump Rex’s face with the ice pack. 

“Okay,” Rex whispers, just as another officer brusquely opens the door and walks into the interrogation room, a file in her hand. 

“Remember,” Cody hisses to Rex, “Don’t say a word to them without a lawyer present, okay?”

Rex nods, and Cody stands and turns to face the officer coming into the room. 

“Mr. Krell is pressing battery charges,” she says in a bored tone of voice, flipping through the file, and Cody gapes. Behind the other cop, Fox blinks. 

“What!” Cody snaps, “That’s ridiculous, he can’t do that!” 

“He very much can,” the cop says with no small amount of condescension, looking up at Cody with a raised eyebrow. “He says Mr. Fett attacked him completely unprovoked.” 

“Obviously he’s lying!” 

“That will be up to the court to decide,” the cop says. She turns to Rex. “Anything to say?” 

Rex says nothing, just glares down at the table. 

“Didn’t think so,” The cop sneers. She spins on her heel and thrusts the file at Fox before sweeping out of the room, leaving the three of them alone again. 

Cody levels a glare at Fox, who barely even reacts, just looking through the file with a blank expression, wordless like his mouth has been sealed shut. 

“What about you,” Cody mutters darkly. “Do you have anything to say?”

Fox looks up at him. 

It’s like he’s a stranger, and that just infuriates Cody. He hasn’t seen his brother in nearly ten years since Fox told them all he was going to become a cop, and now it’s like looking into the eyes of a completely different person. Fox used to have fire, he used to have passion. Now it looks like all that drive has just been smothered out, leaving only a charred husk of a man. It makes Cody grind his teeth. 

“If he’s convicted, depending on the degree of the felony he’s found guilty of, he could be facing up to either ten years, twenty years, or a lifetime prison sentence.” He says it so detachedly, so casually, like he doesn’t even care, and it makes all the air rush out of Cody’s lungs. Behind him, he hears Rex stifle a gasp. 

“Fuck,” Cody hisses, and Fox purses his lips. 

“Better find him a good lawyer,” He says, and Cody wants to shake him. 

“Fuck you,” He says, running stressed hands through his hair. “Can I at least bring him home with me so we can get this figured out?” 

Fox shakes his head. “Unfortunately, since he is being charged with a violent crime, Rex will have to remain in custody until the court decides whether or not he can be released from custody for the duration of the trial. So no, you won’t be able to take him home with you.”

“What--” Cody gawks at Fox, “You’re saying he’s going to go to jail?” 

“Yes,” 

“That’s bullshit!” Cody shouts, “Rex isn’t violent, he’s not a fucking danger to society or anything ridiculous like that, he’s just a kid and he should be allowed to go home!”

“Technically, he’s eighteen.” Fox quips. He lowers the file and gives Cody a sardonic look. “Sorry, that’s the law.”

“The l--” Cody can hardly believe what he’s hearing. “What is wrong with you!” He cries, “Look at you, do you even care what’s happening? This is our little brother we’re talking about and you don’t even give a shit what’s happening to him! I knew this would happen, I knew this would happen to you! I told you not to go and become a fucking cop and you went and became a fucking cop anyway and now you’ve turned into this fucking machine of a person who just does what the system tells you to and ruins people’s lives and ends people’s lives because you’re soulless! You’re soulless!”

Fox’s eyes narrow in an icy glare. “Are you done?” He says, and Cody resists the urge to body check him. 

“With you? Yeah, I’m pretty fucking done.” He turns back to Rex, who is sitting slouched down and small in the chair still, the ice pack laying discarded on the table next to him. 

“You’re going to be okay, alright? We’re going to figure this out together.” Cody tells him, and Rex nods, but he looks scared, and shit why the fuck does this have to happen to them? Cody grasps Rex’s shoulder and squeezes, hoping to steady him at least a little bit. “Stay strong-- you’re going to get through this.” 

Rex nods again, his voice stuck in his throat. 

Cody kind of just wants to say fuck it and take Rex home with him away from here anyway, damn the the cops say, but he can’t do anything that would just make Rex’s situation worse-- and Rex’s situation is already pretty bad. 

He gently knocks his forehead against Rex’s in goodbye and leaves. 

Fox follows him out. 

Cody doesn’t look at him when he hisses, “You make me sick,” to his younger brother over his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re just letting this happen. It shouldn’t surprise me that family doesn’t mean shit to you anymore, but this is just a new low.”

Fox says nothing in response. Cody doesn’t look back to see what his face looks like. His stony mask probably hasn’t even shifted at all.

Obi-Wan is waiting at the entrance like Cody asked him to, frowning down at his phone. He looks up when Cody comes in and looks like he wants to ask questions-- no doubt he wants to know what’s going on-- but Cody is having trouble just looking at him, too. 

He brushes past him and throws the door open, blowing out into the parking lot like a gust of cold north wind. Obi-Wan scurries after him as he stomps back to the car. 

“Rex is facing battery charges,” Cody grits out as they get back into the car, and Obi-Wan does a double take. 

“That--” 

“I know-- I know,” Cody puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. Let’s just… go to the hospital now.” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t move for a minute, and Cody can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of his head. “Please,” he adds, and Obi-Wan sighs, and his keys jingle as he turns the ignition and starts the car. 

The drive to the hospital is longer, just as silent, and even more tense. 

Cody’s skin itches just being this close to Obi-Wan. It’s been almost two weeks since they kissed and it blew up in their faces, and they have barely exchanged a word since. He still can’t wrap his head around-- he can’t believe Obi-Wan just-- he shakes his head, trying to clear the dead end that is that train of thought. 

He just has to resign himself to the fact that he doesn’t know what the hell is going on in Obi-Wan’s head, and he probably never will. If there’s a lesson to be taken from it, then it would be that Cody should just let Obi-Wan go, if it’s so impossible to actually get close to him. He should just… give up, move on. That’s probably what Obi-Wan would want him to do. But he just… can’t. He can’t do it, not even if he tried. Obi-Wan has pulled him in and even if Cody wanted to just forget about it, he couldn’t. He doesn’t understand why, if Obi-Wan returns his feelings-- which he does , he’s known it even before that night-- he can’t just, let him love him. 

Maybe Obi-Wan won’t let himself just be kept for the same reason Cody can’t just let him go. 

It sounds nice, poetic and shit, but really, Cody knows it’s just a poetic little thought. It doesn’t really mean anything, it’s not some great insight. He just keeps trying to rationalize it. He knows it’s not up to him to-- to ‘fix’ Obi-Wan, or whatever, whatever the guy has going on he probably needs real, actual serious therapy and Cody knows he can’t heal him all by himself but-- he wishes he could.He wishes he could be all Obi-Wan needs. 

It fucking hurts to know, once and for all, with certainty, that he’s not enough. Even though he has no idea why ever let himself think he could be. Cody resists the urge to look over at the man next to him. He really thought… 

Well. 

Even now, after what happened, remembering the pain in both their voices as they just shouted questions at each other that neither of them had answers for, here Obi-Wan is, being there for him, and his family. It makes Cody wish they could just forget about all of it and go back to how they were before, as friends, just on the edge of it instead of free falling off the cliff. The pining, the wondering, the long nights spent staring at the ceiling and hoping, was better than knowing the answer, when the answer is no. 

They get to the hospital and Obi-Wan grumbles about paying for parking on the way in. Cody strides ahead of him. The receptionist tells them where to go, and they both speed walk through the halls of the hospital to where the rest of Cody’s family is gathered in the surgical waiting room. Either sitting in the chairs against the wall or pacing around, they all look up when Cody and Obi-Wan walk in. 

“Fives just went in for surgery a little while ago,” Ninety-Nine stands and walks over to them, leading Cody to the seats. Obi-Wan trails behind, hovering just a couple feet away. “They say it could be a good five hours before he’s out.”

“Christ,” Cody sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. “The insurance will cover this, right?”

“It will,” Ninety-Nine says, at the same time that Echo looks between him and Obi-Wan, a confused furrow in his brow. 

“Where’s Rex?” the teen asks. “We thought he would be with you.”

His cousins’ eyes all snap to him, and Cody tries not to just hang his head in defeat. A light, warm touch settles on his shoulder, and Cody looks up to see Obi-Wan there, looking at him with such a soft look on his face that Cody has to quickly look away again before-- something happens. But he still reaches up and lets his fingertips slide across Obi-Wan’s knuckles before dropping both hands back into his lap. 

“Rex is… Krell is pressing battery charges against him,” Cody says. “And since it’s a ‘violent crime’,” he makes derisive air quotations with his fingers. “He’s going to be kept in custody until at least the trial, maybe even until he’s either convicted or cleared.”

“What!” Hardcase stands, fists clenched at his sides, similar cries of outrage emerging from the rest of the family. Ahsoka looks distraught. 

“He can’t do that, can he? I mean-- Rex was defending Fives! Krell literally just broke Fives’ arm!” Kix fumes, and Jesse looks lost. 

“Wait, what about school? OH-- shit, is Rex gonna get expelled?” 

Cody sighs. “There’s a lot we don’t know yet. The fight happened after school hours, but on school property, and considering Rex is being charged, there could very well be consequences from the school as well.”

“Crap…” Ahsoka whispers. 

“We’ll fight them on it,” Ninety-Nine nods reassuringly. “If they try to expel him. Rex doesn’t deserve to have his whole future put in jeopardy for doing the right thing.” 

“That bastard deserved it,” Jesse growls, and Hardcase hangs his head. 

“I-- I’m really sorry, guys,” He says, looking down at his hands. “This all happened because of me.” 

“No,” Ninety-Nine says, twisting to put an arm around Hardcase’s shoulders. “This is not your fault. Krell was completely out of line, and he deserved what he got. Absolutely no one blames you for this.” 

Hardcase rubs his eyes, and Kix presses against his other side. “But if I just-- hadn’t been goofing off then-- then Krell wouldn’t have-- and now Fives’ arm is broken and Rex is in jail and--” 

“I’m sure Fives doesn’t blame you for his broken arm,” Ninety-Nine says, “And Rex doesn’t blame you for his arrest. You’ll see. It’s not your fault.” 

Ahsoka slides over to Obi-Wan while Ninety-Nine continues to reassure Hardcase. “Can we stay until the surgery is done?” She whispers, “Just to make sure Fives is okay?” Obi-Wan looks down at his phone and sighs. 

“I can’t stay that late,” He says, regretfully. “Anakin is still pretty much MIA, and I need to at least check to see if he’s at home. If he’s not, we might have another very serious problem on our hands.” 

Ahsoka’s face falls, and Cody turns towards them. “If you have to go, I can drive Ahsoka home later,” he says. 

“Would you really?” Obi-Wan asks in a hopeful tone of voice, then says to Ahsoka, “Would that be alright with you?” 

Ahsoka nods, and Obi-Wan gives Cody such a warm, grateful look that for a second Cody really does forget all that happened between them that night, leaving him just with a light feeling. 

It’s fleeting, though. 

“Are you going to be alright?” Obi-Wan asks him next, and Cody nods wearily. “Okay, then. I have to go now,” Obi-Wan says to the rest of the group. “Please give Fives my best wishes. And, if there’s anything at all I can help with, I’d be happy to, really.” 

“Bye, Mr. Kenobi,” the kids wave to him with a smile. None of them know about the kiss, of course. “Thank you.” 

“Goodbye,” Obi-Wan adjusts his layers and turns to go, leaving Cody with one last lingering look before he’s gone. 

And that’s just how it always is, isn’t it?

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath once he gets into the car, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and letting the air out slowly. He pulls his phone out once more, scrolling uselessly through the messages he has sent Anakin over the last few hours, to no response. He opens Anakin’s contact and presses call. 

It rings, and rings, and rings, as Obi-Wan sits alone in his car in the parking lot. It times out and goes to voicemail, just like Obi-Wan knew it would. Still, he leaves another message. 

“Anakin, if you’re getting this, please call me back,” He starts. “I’m worried about you. I just left the hospital and I’m on my way home now, so I really hope you’re there and just ignoring me, as opposed to the worse alternatives. See you soon, hopefully. Bye.” 

He hangs up and rubs his forehead with the heel of his wrist, his eyes closing of their own volition. He is so tired. But he shakes himself until he’s more alert again and starts the car. 

He grips the steering wheel too hard as he drives home. What a day this has been. 

He parks in the underground parking for their building and takes the elevator up. He thinks about what he’s going to do if Anakin isn’t there when he gets up to their unit. Go out and look for him? Ask around Padme’s parents’ house again? He’d really not like to have to deal with them twice in one day, but call the police? 

Mentally, he’s already googling how to file a missing persons report when he opens the door to their unit and sees Anakin there, on the couch, with Threepio’s head laid on his lap, on his phone as if he hasn’t a care in the world. 

“Anakin--” Obi-Wan stops in place, not sure at first if he’s seeing right, but no, he is. That’s Anakin, right there, slouched over and not even reacting to his arrival. Threepio reacts, getting up and trotting over to him panting, likely because he wants to be fed. Obi-Wan leaves him for now; first, he has a teen to deal with. 

“Anakin, where the hell have you been!” Obi-Wan drops his bag and stomps over to Anakin, who just looks up at him from his phone lethargically. “Rex has been arrested !” 

“Yeah, I know.” Anakin says slowly. He turns his phone around to show the screen to Obi-Wan. 

It’s a video. The sound isn’t on, but Obi-Wan doesn’t need the sound to know exactly what it is. 

It’s a slightly shaky video taken on someone’s phone, of the scene on the football field not even hours earlier, the part that Obi-Wan, Cody, and Ahsoka weren’t there for. Fives, on the ground, just visible between the multiple people kneeling around him. Kix turns and shouts something to the crowd of people the taker of the video is in the middle of, and from the crowd a white t-shirt goes flying. People running down, shouting, condensing around another point on the field. 

It’s Rex and Krell, visible every time the crowd parts and ripples, the occasional hands reaching out to try and separate them are ultimately shaken away as the two twist in the grass, snarling and throwing punches and elbows-- they really do look like they’re trying to kill each other. It’s awful.

The little bar at the bottom of the screen tells the video is barely half over. Obi-Wan is sure the other half is a recording of Rex and Krell’s arrest, and Fives being put into the ambulance.

“It’s already pretty much gone viral,” Anakin takes his phone back. His face is completely blank, so empty and entirely unlike him, and Obi-Wan wants to scream.

“But where were you,” He grits out. “You disappeared halfway through the day, no one could reach you-- your best friend has gone to jail, you do realize that, don’t you! And you weren’t there!”

“Oh my god, just leave me alone!” Anakin shouts, his bored spell broken, as he stand up from the couch to veritably tower over Obi-Wan. “It’s none of your business!” 

“None of my business! None of my business!?” Obi-Wan yells incredulously. “I think your safety is my business! What if something had happened and you’d gotten hurt and I didn’t know where you were-- you were missing for hours, you weren’t answering your phone-- Anakin, do you have any idea how worried I was about you!?”

“Well stop!” Anakin shouts, red in the face. “Just stop worrying about me! I don’t need you to, I hate it when you do!”

“I can’t just stop worrying about you, Anakin, I’d have to stop caring about you and that’s never going to happen! I am your father --”

“No you're not!” Anakin screams in his face. “You’re not! You’re not my dad and despite what you think you can’t replace my mom either! You’re not my family!” 

He shoves past Obi-Wan and storms into his room. He wheels around in the doorway and screams, “I hate you!”

Anakin slams his door shut so hard the whole building shakes-- or maybe it’s just Obi-Wan. He looks helplessly around the room, not knowing what he’s looking for, one hand coming up to grasp the collar of his sweater. 

“I--” Obi-Wan wills the trembles to go away, taking a deep breath and slowly walking towards Anakin’s closed door. He stands just in front of it for a second, the words stuck in his throat. He sighs, and carefully presses his forehead to the painted wood. “Anakin, you don’t have to come back out, or even respond, but just, will you listen?” He says, hoping his desperation can’t be heard in his voice.

He waits a moment to no sound. There’s a rustling just on the other side of the door, and Obi-Wan swallows heavily. 

“I… I’m sorry. I know I, that I’ve let you down. And I just want you to know that no matter what, no matter what it is you’re struggling with right now, I will do everything in my power to make it alright for you. Because, well, we don’t really label our relationship like this and I’m afraid to say it out loud, but I do think of you as my son. You don’t have to think of me as a father figure, that’s fine, but you are a son to me. And it pains me to see you suffer this way. 

I understand that you feel hurt by the world so you try to put the same amount of hurt back out into it-- believe me, I have been there-- and I think that’s why you lash out at me so much, but-- but you have to understand that taking out your anger on the people who love you will never bring you catharsis, it will never heal you! And if you continue down this path, it will only leave you as a bitter and angry person, alone with your pain! But you-- you don’t have to be alone with it. You’re not alone. I am here for you, and I will always do my best to help you and support you and care for you in any way I can, any way you need, I promise. 

You might push me away, and shout at me, and wish all kinds of ill fates upon me, but I will still always be here for you, waiting with open arms when you’re ready to open up again. 

I love you, and I’m not giving up on you.” 

As he finishes his speech, a lump forms in his throat, and he tries to just breathe around it. Obi-Wan takes a step back away from the door, and slowly turns away. He goes into the kitchen, and switches on the light. He mixes Threepio’s dinnertime medication into the dog’s wet food, and sets it down next to his water bowl. He immediately digs into it, and Obi-Wan sighs as he watches the dog eat. 

He leans against the counter, setting his glasses down and dragging a hand down his face. 

The future has never felt more uncertain. 

And, considering the crackshit that Obi-Wan has been through already in his life, that’s a very weighted statement. Though certainly true. 

Behind him, he hears a door creak open, and Obi-Wan turns to see Anakin standing there, shoulders slumped, head down. 

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin lifts his face and Obi-Wan sees the tears running down his cheeks. Instantly, Obi-Wan completely melts, and he comes around the counter with his arms open. 

“Oh, Ani…” He whispers, and Anakin practically falls forward onto him. Obi-Wan immediately wraps his arms around his son and holds him tight, stroking his hair like he used to do when Anakin was small and he had had a nightmare. Anakin is much, much taller than him now, but he clings to Obi-Wan like he’s still a young child, sobbing into his shoulder. 

Obi-Wan just holds him and slowly rocks side to side, saying nothing, his own brow pinching sadly as he listens to Anakin cry. 

Minutes pass like that, and eventually Anakin’s tears slow, then stop, but he doesn’t let go, so neither does Obi-Wan. Even if his back is starting to hurt from having to lean backwards for this hug to work. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Obi-Wan whispers, continuing to run his hand through Anakin’s hair-- he really needs to wash it, it’s greasy-- and Anakin grunts. 

“I-- I can’t,” Anakin says, his voice scratchy. “Not yet.” 

“Okay,” Obi-Wan hums. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here to listen. Just say the word.” 

“Thanks, Obi-Wan,” Anakin sniffles, and pulls away from the hug. Obi-Wan lets him go. His eyes are red and bloodshot, the bags under them dark, and his cheeks are blotchy and streaked with tears. There’s probably snot on Obi-Wan’s sweater, but that’s fine. He wishes he could take all of Anakin’s pain unto himself and bear it for him. He wills himself to be strong enough to support Anakin and the weight of his child’s burdens, as well as his own. 

“I’m, uh, I’m going back to my room,” Anakin mumbles, and Obi-Wan nods at him with a small smile. 

Anakin turns and starts to shuffle back to his room, then, upon reaching his door, turns again. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking down at the floor, “I don’t hate you.” 

Obi-Wan’s smile widens, and he puts a hand on his chest. “I know,” he says, and Anakin gives a meek nod. He goes back into his room, and closes the door softly. 

Obi-Wan feels the quick, happy beating of his heart, and lets his lungs fill with a new breath of air. 

The future has never been more uncertain.

But he has hope for it yet.

Chapter Text

Monday afternoon, at the end of the school day, Obi-Wan tiredly packs up his things to go home. He’s never been able to wrap his head fully around the concept of life going on; the fact that after something big and paradigm-shifting and earth shattering, the day to day minutiae of life just… continues, largely uninterrupted. In the grand scheme of things, very little has actually changed. Anakin eats his dinner at the table with them again more often, but he still shuts himself away in his room more often than not. Cody waves hello to him in the hall when they pass each other, but they hardly talk any more than that, practically back at square one. There’s an empty desk in his classroom that was occupied just last week.

He sighs and leans his hands on his desk. This year has been just, too much. Too many things have happened. All he ever wanted was quiet. 

Fostering— and soon to be adopting— a new child. Everything that’s happened with Anakin, everything that’s happened with Cody. What’s next? Qui-Gon will rise from the dead to berate him for not having the children on all natural all organic no-sugar vegan diets? 

Just then, a knock on the doorframe of his classroom causes him to straighten. He pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he glances over to see who has come— and stiffens when he does. It’s Cody, visibly tense in the shoulders and with a sour pinch to his mouth. 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan swallows. “What can I do for you?” 

Cody glances at something off to the side, in the hall out of Obi-Wan’s line of sight. “Er… the lawyer wanted to ask you some questions,” he says. 

“Well, alright then,” Obi-Wan quickly straightens his sweater, and there’s a sharp footstep in the hall. Then Cody moves out of the doorframe and in walks who must be the lawyer. 

Obi-Wan feels all the blood drain from his face. “Oh, shit ,” the words fall out of his mouth before he can even think to catch them, and the lawyer smiles frostily at him, her eyes narrowed. 

Definitely not Qui-Gon, no, it’s a different ghost from his past. 

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” Satine says, “it’s been a long time.”

Earlier that day...

Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound of sharp heels echoes down the jail hallway, and Rex straightens in his seat when it reaches his ears. It took a few days, but they got him a lawyer. 

Apparently, some big fancy New York City lawyer saw all the tweets about what happened-- apparently, also, the whole thing went hella viral and now #freerex is trending, which he had to hear secondhand because they took his phone at the police station and he hasn’t been on the internet since-- but apparently some big shot with a philanthropic streak heard about it and offered to represent him pro bono. Rex has a theory it’s just to make her look good, but he doesn’t mind being someone’s charity case if it means she’ll get him out of this mess. He guesses that’s her coming now. He’s been waiting in here, some room specifically for inmates to meet with their lawyers in, for a good few minutes. All it’s got is a long table with a bunch of chairs around it, where he sits alone. He feels small, just sitting in this big room by himself. He’s felt small these entire last few days, stuck in jail. Small and voiceless and lonely. 

The door opens, and Rex looks up to see the lawyer walk in with a thick binder tucked under her arm and a briefcase held in her hand, her suit all crisp clean lines and her fine blonde hair pulled back in a smart, neat updo. Her eyes immediately land on him, and she strides over to where he’s sitting, her heels still making the same sharp clack clack clack noises on the hard concrete floor. She puts down her briefcase on the table and shakes his hand, her thin lips pulled into a small smile. “You must be Rex Fett,” she says in a surprisingly posh english accent, not what he expected from a New York lawyer. “My name is Satine Kryze; I’m your attorney.”

“Good to meet you, Miss Kryze,” Rex says. 

“And you as well,” Miss Kryze takes a seat next to him and opens up her binder. “I understand this is quite the predicament you’ve found yourself in. Luckily, it should be fairly simple to get you cleared of these charges.” 

Rex perks up. “Really?” He tries not to sound too hopeful, but some of it must show in his face, because Miss Kryze’s smile widens. 

“Yes,” she says, pointing to a highlighted section on the page she has open in the binder. “In New Jersey, as well as many other states, it is perfectly legal to use force in self defense and in defense of another. And since we have both video evidence and multiple eyewitness accounts of Mr. Krell attacking your brother first, it will be relatively easy to prove that your actions are not worthy of criminal charges.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rex says. “I thought it was just self defense. That’s why I thought I was totally screwed.” 

“Defense of another isn’t as well known as self-defense,” Miss Kryze turns a couple of pages. “I also suggest that your brother and-or your family press charges against Mr. Krell for his initial attack. And, depending on how this goes, you may be able to sue him for defamation of character.” 

Rex’s eyes widen. “Really?” 

Miss Kryze nods. “He’s pressing charges against you that are objectively false, thus putting your reputation, and, this is very important, your academic prospects in jeopardy. Though it is not guaranteed to work, even in a scenario like this, it’s difficult to prove in court.” 

“Huh,” Rex leans back in his chair. He feels better about this now-- but all the cases of ‘what if insert-thing-here goes horribly wrong’ that swim viciously around in his gut and make him nauseous when he’s trying to sleep probably won’t go away until this whole mess is actually over. 

The mention of academic prospects brings up some of those fears. He’s already committed to a local university and he’s already got his scholarships and everything, but all that can be gone with just one email-- and there’s still been no word, as far as he knows, on whether or not Coruscant High is going to expel him because of this. If he doesn’t graduate, then what? Miss Kryze seems to sense the sudden onslaught of nerves, because she gives him a reassuring nod. 

“Not to worry,” she says. “You’re going to be perfectly fine. Now,” She pulls over her briefcase and opens it up, “There were a few things I wanted to discuss with you… usually, I represent people who have been victims of violence, and not perpetrators of violence, no matter the reason for it--” 

“I’m not-- a, a perpetrator of violence, or whatever, I--” Rex shrinks in his seat, “I’m not--”

“I know, I know,” Miss Kryze says lightly. Rex pulls on the cuffs of his fucking ugly orange jumpsuit. 

“Is that what you think of me? Do you even-- believe in me or am I just some violent criminal to you that you pitied and decided to--”

“That’s not what I think at all,” Miss Kryze says, almost scolding, then offers a small smile and a raised eyebrow. “If I did think that, then I wouldn’t be trying to keep you out of prison, now would I?”

Rex fidgets. “I guess…” he says, but the unease remains, even as Miss Kryze walks him through their next steps.

“Mr. Palpatine, we really think you should reconsider this,” Cody tries not to appear as frustrated as he is, as Palpatine just continues to smile at him and Ninety-Nine placidly as if none of this is actually significant to him. “It’s not fair to expel Rex before the court has even found him either guilty or not guilty.”

They sit in Palpatine’s office, the two of them facing the principal in his big fancy chair on the other side of his desk. He sits in it like a throne. Palpatine has always irritated Cody, but now he really just wants to strangle him. 

“At least wait until the trial is over to make your decision,” Ninety-Nine continues for him. “Absolutely we understand suspension, but expulsion, especially this close to graduation, is just not right.” 

Palpatine opens his mouth to respond, but Cody speaks up again before he gets the chance to. “What’s not right is the fact that Krell is on paid leave when dozens of people saw him break Fives’ arm-- a student and a minor . Why does he even still have a job?” he demands, and Palpatine sighs like this is exhausting for him . 

“Unfortunately, that’s out of my hands,” Palpatine says, “Mr. Krell is tenured, and with all the red tape involved, it would take years to fire him, even if he was responsible for Fives’ broken arm. It’s simply not efficient.” 

Cody frowns. “If ? Everyone saw it happen--” 

“And everyone saw Rex attack Mr. Krell,” Palpatine says evenly. 

Cody takes a deep breath in through his nose, and Ninety-Nine pats his shoulder before taking over the next leg of the argument. “We completely understand,” he says, “but we implore you to wait to make this decision. If Rex is convicted of this crime, then of course it would be within reason to expel him. But please, act in good faith, and wait until the court has come to a decision.” 

Palpatine’s eyes take on a shifting, calculating look. Cody feels a shiver run up his spine as those pale, icy eyes sweep over him. 

“Very well, then.” Palpatine eventually says, though his tone remains cold. “This conversation will resume another time.” 

“Thank you,” Ninety-Nine says graciously, and he and Cody both rise from their seats. Palpatine remains sitting, and Cody tries not to openly glare at him as he and his uncle leave. 

In the hall outside the principal’s office, Vice Principal Windu is waiting. He nods to Ninety-Nine, but stops Cody as he passes. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” He says, and Cody nods. 

“Sure,” 

“Well,” Mr. Windu starts, setting off down the hallway at a casual pace, and Cody follows. “As you know, we were able to get a substitute gym teacher for while Krell is away.”

“He’s coming back, isn’t he.” Cody says flatly, and Mr. Windu sighs, making it clear he likes it just as much as Cody does. 

“We can’t have him on paid leave forever, and my hands, at least, are tied. But my point is, though we got a substitute gym teacher, we haven’t found a suitable interim football coach.”

“Okay…” Cody says slowly, and Mr. Windu stops and turns to face him. 

“Would you be willing to step in, for the time being?”

Cody blinks. “What?” 

“You did use to play football here as a student, and I understand you played throughout college as well.” Mr. Windu goes on to explain. “You have good leadership skills and you’re a great teacher. Of course, you will be paid for the extra work…” 

“I--” Cody blinks again. “Yes, sure, I’ll do it. Uh-- thank you so much.” 

“No,” Mr. Windu gives a relieved sigh. “Thank you .” 

Then he walks away, leaving Cody standing in the hallway, wondering if that actually did just happen. 

Honestly, Rex had been worried that he’d just be stuck waiting around in jail with nothing to do but bite his nails, and he was right, actually, for the most part, but he’s been busy today at least. A little while after Miss Kryze left, a guard came to tell him he had a visitor. Rex followed him to the visitor area despite his confusion-- he didn’t know of anyone else coming today, but when he gets there and sees who it is already sitting on the other side of the glass, he feels his heart immediately start to race. 

Rex practically jumps into the chair and grabs the receiver so fast he almost drops it. “Uh-- H-Hey,” He stammers out, and, on the other side of the glass with his own receiver already in hand, Key smiles. 

“Hey,” Key says, eyes bright, and Rex props himself up on his elbows on the little counter bit in an attempt not to just melt into a pile of puppy-love goo. “I came to visit you,” he says, a little bashfully, as if it isn’t obvious by the fact that he’s here . 

“Yeah, so you did,” Rex breathes. Seeing Key here is like, it’s literally like a ray of sun breaking through dark rainclouds. 

“How are you doing?” Key asks gently with a tilt of his head, and Rex sighs, sinking further against the counter. 

“Terrible,” he admits. “I mean, I met with a lawyer today and it looks like I’ll be able to get cleared alright, but still, it… nothing is certain and it feels like everything could just go even more wrong at any second,” He says, as Key nods along sympathetically. “I miss everyone. I’ve only been here a few days but it just feels like it’s been forever.” 

“I can only imagine,” Key says. “You know, everyone is talking about what you did.” 

Rex sits up, a grimace already forming. “Shit, really?” He looks down. “Look, I-- I’m really, really sorry you had to witness that… I swear that was not me, I was-- I was just so mad at just everything he’s done and it was like something else took over my body and I just couldn’t stop--”

“No, Rex, it’s okay!” Key stops him before he spirals too far down. “No one is saying anything bad about it, we all thought it was so cool of you. Like, super badass.”

“Oh.” Rex blinks, and Key nods. 

“Yeah, I mean, it was, well, kinda scary at the time, because it seriously looked like one of you was going to come out of that fight dead and, but Krell seriously had it coming, has for a long time. I’m glad you gave him what he deserved. I almost wish you did kill him.” Key half-chuckles, and Rex frowns. 

“He broke Fives’ arm,” he says. “He-- he’s been such a terrible person for so long and then he just-- I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Yeah,” Key says, “Everyone hated him, and they still didn’t even know…” He trails off, and Rex leans forward.
“Key?” He asks cautiously. “What… what do we not know?”

Key looks off to the side, not saying anything, and Rex feels a knot form in his insides. 

“What did he do?” 

Key chews his lip, looking down. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly enough that the receiver barely even picks it up. “It’s really not my place to say.”

Rex doesn’t say anything for a moment. Pieces of a puzzle that’s been hovering in the back of his mind for months are starting to slide into place… and he doesn’t like the picture it’s making. “Okay,” he eventually says. Then he glances down and his eyes widen. “You’re wearing my jacket,” he says, surprised. He feels his cheeks get hot, and Key looks down at the blue and white wool garment that hangs off his shoulders, way too big for him, as if he also forgot he was wearing it. 

“Uh, yeah,” Key smiles again, a little red in the face himself. “I’ve been wearing it around school and stuff. And after school. And at home. Kind of all the time, actually,” His blush darkens. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” Rex coughs. “It’s, uh. Cool. Uh. I-- it looks good on you.” 

Key looks shy all of a sudden. “Thanks,” he says softly, tucking his hair behind his ear, and Rex wishes so hard that there wasn’t this glass between them. Without thinking, he raises his hand and brushes his fingers against the glass. Key does the same, and if Rex really uses his imagination, he thinks he could almost actually feel the warmth of his friend’s soft touch.

They talk until it’s time for Key to go, and they draw out their goodbye too long, but it still feels like not enough time. Even still, he feels light and happy as he goes back to his cell. 

Just as he’s almost back, the same guard stops him again. “You’re popular today, kid,” he says. “You got another visitor.”

“Really?” Rex looks at him, and the guard shrugs. Even more confused, he walks back to the visitor area and sits down again. But when the person that’s visiting him now comes and hesitantly sits down across from him, he almost gets up and leaves. 

He doesn’t, though. He grabs the receiver and levels a flat look at him. “Finally remembered I exist, huh?” He says, and Anakin fidgets. 

“I, uh,” his friend stutters, twisting the cord of the phone around his hand. “Look, I get that I’m probably the last person you want to see, but, I, I just wanted to say, I’m sorry.”  

Rex doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, and Anakin slumps. “I have been a huge jerk,” he says. “And you totally did not deserve any of that. I… I’ve got a lot of stuff going on, shit that was, was just messing with my head, and I distanced myself from everyone because I thought they wouldn’t understand or they don’t care about me, but I was so, so wrong and…” He pauses as he starts to sound choked up, and Rex softens. “I’ve got some serious shit going on and it sucks but it was never an excuse for me to do and say the things that I did. I’ve been a terrible friend. I’m sorry.” 

He finishes, looking down, shoulders drawn tight and sad. Rex sighs. 

“It’s okay, Anakin,” he smiles. “I forgive you.” 

Anakin’s head jerks up, his eyes wide and hopeful. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Rex’s smile widens. “You’re my best friend. And I missed you.” 

Anakin gives a wobbly smile of his own. “I missed you, too. Sorry I’ve been such a jerk.”

“What’s going on?” Rex asks. “Are you okay?” 

“I…” Anakin glances around. “I’ll tell you, I swear, but I can’t… not here. But it’s fucked up. Uh, part of it was that I was, uh… I was trying to find my mom. But I haven’t yet. It’s been months and months.” 

“Oh,” Rex’s brow furrows sadly. “I’m sorry, man, that sucks. I hope you find her soon.”

Anakin’s mouth thins. “I don’t know. I’ve had to… stop looking so hard, lately. I’m really fucking behind on school shit. And I don’t know if she’s even…” Rex sees him chew the inside of his cheek, and he wishes he could give him a hug right now. 

“I’m sorry…” 

Anakin shakes himself and perks up. “Wait, why are we just talking about me, you’re the one who’s literally in jail right now,” he laughs, obviously eager to change the subject. Despite his concern, Rex lets it happen with a smile. 

“As opposed to figuratively in jail.”

“Shut up,” Anakin laughs more. “Okay, I have a question.” He gets a mischievous glint in his eye, and Rex leans back warily. “Why did I see Key leaving here as I came in, wearing your jacket?” 

Rex freezes, and Anakin smirks. “In fact, he’s been wearing your jacket. Wanna tell me what’s going on there?” 

Rex sighs and holds the receiver in both hands. “You’re gonna kill me for just telling you this now,” he says, voice low, and Anakin leans forward eagerly. 

“What?”

“We— we kissed on Halloween,” he whispers, and Anakin jumps out of his seat. 

“WHAT!” he yells loud enough for the people around them to turn and glare at him, loud enough for Rex to have to wince and pull the receiver away from him as it crackles from the feedback. Anakin sheepishly sinks back down into his seat. “Dude,” he hisses. “What?! On Halloween?! What?!”

Rex can’t help but laugh at his friend’s shock. Anakin’s jaw flaps like a fish gasping for air. “Yeah,” he says. “Uh, he gave me a ride home from the party and then… well…” 

“No fucking way,” Anakin gapes. “So are you guys dating now or what! Jesus, I can’t believe I missed this!” 

“Ah,” Rex awkwardly chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “No, we’re still just friends… we talked about it and since I’m not out at school-- or, I guess wasn’t. Who knows if I’ll be able to go back.”

Anakin frowns. “Hey, no dude, it’s okay,” he says. “You’re gonna get out of here, and you’re gonna totally sweep Key off his feet once you do, got it?” He says it like that’s the most important part about any of this, and, well-- never let it be said Anakin isn’t a romantic. 

It’s nice, being able to talk to his best friend like this again. It’s like there’s been a big, six-foot-two, Anakin-shaped hole in his life since december. Every time he’s stopped himself from turning to say something to someone who isn't there, every time he’s seen a meme that he knew Anakin would like but then remembered they aren’t talking before he can send it to him, has been like a new little pinprick of pain in his heart. 

But now Anakin is here. He’s here , and honestly, Rex is willing to put it all behind them just for that. Forgiven-- not forgotten, in case he needs to guilt Anakin into anything later, but totally forgiven. Sure, Anakin acting like him and their friendship wasn’t important to him at all and then being a total dick when confronted about it hurt. It had hurt a lot. But Rex missed his best friend too much to not let it slide, and he has bigger things to worry about right now anyways. 

“Yeah, well,” Rex flushes a little at the thought of sweeping Key off his feet. He could probably do it literally, he can lift a lot. The mental image makes his blush darken, and Anakin laughs at him. 

“Who’s the loser now?” His friend says, and if Rex weren’t in jail right now he’d smack him.

“You shut up,” He smiles. “When I get out of here, I’m gonna kick your ass, I swear.”

“I deserve that,” Anakin grins. “And after you do that, you and Key can come on a double date with me and Padme!”

Rex sighs, but it’s a happy one. Maybe things really can be okay again.

Now

Obi-Wan fights the urge to shrink, and Satine comes further into the room, Cody following behind. 

“Do you… know each other?” Cody asks, glancing back and forth between them, a confused look on his face, and Obi-Wan grimaces. Satine turns back to him with a small, composed smile. 

“We were lovers,” she says, and Obi-Wan wants to crawl into a hole forever in his mortification as Cody’s eyes practically bug out of his head and he looks to Obi-Wan for confirmation. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan hesitates. “A long time ago.” He tries to send Cody a meaningful look, one that very explicitly says it’s a thing of the past , but Cody looks off to the side before he can catch it. 

“Right,” the man nods slowly, “Well, I guess I’ll… leave you two to it, then. Later, Kenobi.” He waves once and walks out in a way that makes it clear he’s evacuating the situation as fast as is polite, and a little part of Obi-Wan just shrivels up and dies. 

He looks back at Satine, ever wearing that cool, level expression. Obi-Wan really, really truly thought he would never see her again— but now here she is, here , and he— doesn’t understand. 

“Satine,” I’m so sorry, he thinks. “You look well,” he says. 

“Oh, Obi,” Satine sighs as she approaches him. “I really should be furious with you. I mean, really, a voicemail ? But, I’m over it.” 

“Really,” he says. Just like that?

“Really.” She strokes a hand down his cheek, and he stays completely still. “The beard is a choice,” Satine smirks, and Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. 

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks incredulously. Satine’s smile widens. 

“It hides too much of your handsome face,” she says, and Obi-Wan smothers a cough and takes a step backward. 

“Cody said you had questions for me?” He says, pulling down the hem of his sweater even though it’s already straight. “Or was that just this conversation.” 

“Hasn’t been much of a conversation thus far,” Satine checks the time on her watch. “But no, I did have a professional reason to talk to you as well.” 

She moves to perch on one of the desks in the front row, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure what to do with his hands so he half-crosses them into the sleeves of his sweater. 

“So,” Satine takes out an iPad, “I understand you’ve taught Rex in the past?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve had him in my class multiple times over the years.”

“And you can vouch that for him to maliciously attack someone unprovoked would be out of character?” 

“Absolutely,” Obi-Wan replies immediately. “Rex has always been a kind and respectful boy. I’ve never witnessed or even heard of him being aggressive with anyone.” 

“Mh-hm,” Satine seems to type something. “Were you present for the incident involving Rex, Mr. Krell, and Fives?”  

“I didn’t get there until both Rex and Krell were already being arrested.”

“I see. And what about Mr. Krell? Evidence shows he was the first to instigate the violence, in breaking Fives’ arm. Would you say that was out of character for him?”

“I may be biased, but no,” Obi-Wan says. “Certainly not.” 

“Why would you say you are biased?”

“My dislike of Krell is no secret.” Obi-Wan nearly sneers at the thought of him. “He’s rude, and openly homophobic. It comes as no surprise he would attack a student like this, he always has treated them carelessly. I once heard from a student that graduated a few years ago that Krell tried to make him continue a game with a concussion.” 

“I see,” Satine types some more. “Would you be willing to appear in court on this matter?” 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says. “Anything to help.”

Satine smiles. “Thank you,” she says. “I believe that was all I needed from you at the moment.” 

She stands, tucking her iPad away. “Goodbye for now, Obi-Wan,” she says with a particular glint in her eye. “I trust we will see more of each other in the coming days.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan supposes they will, if Satine is covering the Fetts’ case— which he still doesn’t understand how that came to be. “Goodbye.” 

Satine swans out of the room without another word, hardly even another glance, and as soon as she’s out of view, Obi-Wan all but falls back into his desk chair, the air escaping from his lungs like a deflating balloon. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. 

He has a headache. 

It’s only going to get more complicated from here, isn’t it?

Chapter Text

Rex is falling down the stairs. 

Not literally , of course, but his stomach is doing such hard somersaults that it feels like it’s pulling his body rolling along with it, just… tumbling down the stairs. Emotionally. His heart beats out of his chest as he’s led into the courtroom. He’s brought in from a door off to the side, flanked by two officers-- as if he actually poses a threat to anyone here. He’s allowed to wear his own clothes for this, which is nice , he never thought he’d be so glad to wear a hoodie and jeans before in his life. 

When he’s brought in, Krell is already there, sitting with his own legal representation on the other side. He’s wearing a nice suit. He has a smug fucking look on his face that makes Rex want to beat him up again-- though he does get some satisfaction at seeing the bruises on his face and the sling his harm is wrapped in, even though it doesn’t help his case much. He knows his own face doesn’t look much better. As he’s seated, Rex looks out at the benches lined up behind them, at all the people who have come to watch his trial. His whole family is here even though it’s a weekday, even his dad is sitting amongst them. He was supposed to have work this week. He makes eye contact with Rex and nods, and Rex swallows heavily and nods back. He sits down and faces forward, not looking back again. 

Beside him, Miss Kryze rearranges her notes. “You’re going to be just fine,” she says without looking up from her task. “Remember, you don’t have to say anything. Just trust me, and I’ll take care of this.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her cast a glance at the prosecutor. The court is called into session, and everyone watches as the prosecutor briskly stands and walks confidently in front of the judge. The lines of his suit and crisp, and his hairline forms a sharp widow’s peak above his severe face. 

“Good people of the court, it is plain as day to see that my client was attacked, viciously and ruthlessly, by Mr. Fett.” He begins in a surprisingly lofty english accent. “Completely without provocation.” 

Rex’s jaw clenches as the lawyer goes on. Every now and then Krell glances over at him with a smug glint in his eye. 

“My client has had problems with Mr. Fett and his behaviour for a long time,” the other lawyer goes on to say. “He has always had a short temper and a volatile attitude, it was only a matter of time before it got physical.” 

That’s not true. Rex tries to keep his posture right and not slump frustratedly in his seat. He’ll just have to trust Miss Kryze to convince them it’s not true.

It comes time for the defense to present their argument. Miss Kryze stands and walks out in front of the court in sharp, precise steps. “I’m afraid there is one key detail that the prosecution has conveniently left out of his argument, your honour,” she says. “And that is that just before my client attacked Mr. Krell, Mr. Krell attacked and broke the arm of one Fives Fett , another student and the younger brother of my client.” 

She pauses and holds it as she makes direct eye contact with the prosecutor, before her mouth twitches in the ghost of a smirk. She faces back around. “Of which there is video evidence .” 

Rex picks at the sleeves of his sweater, his heart racing. This is it-- please let this be enough to clear him. 

Whispers ripple throughout the jury and the crowd alike, and a frown appears on the judge’s face. “Video evidence?” 

“Multiple different smartphone videos were taken of the entire incident from start to finish, and have been online since minutes after the incident.” Miss Kryze elaborates. “It was how I learned of this case in the first place.” 

“Objection,” the prosecutor stands from his seat. “The credibility of cellphone footage is dubious at best,” he says, “and can easily be manipulated with editing software to fit the agenda of the defense.” 

“The footage is clear and entirely unambiguous,” Miss Kryze fires back. “But I have a feeling there is a reason you don’t want it to be seen.” 

“I simply do not see it as a credible source of information. Perhaps film from a security camera, or a police officer’s bodycam footage, but not a cellphone recording.” 

“Conveniently,” Miss Kryze sniffs, “The officers present at the scene all had their bodycams switched off.” 

“It is convenient, isn’t it?” The prosecution raises an arched eyebrow. “That your only source of supposedly cold, hard evidence comes from something as questionable as cellphone footage.” 

“Furthermore,” Miss Kryze turns and ignores him. “My client and I have reason to believe Mr. Krell has not pressed these charges in a genuine attempt at personal justice for what was done to him-- which was, to reiterate, done in defense of another, but merely petty revenge.” 

“That’s merely speculation--”

“The opposition’s motivations aside, however,” Miss Kryze says, “the most important element of this case is that my client was not unprovoked, and was in fact acting to protect his brother and the other students around them. None of his other teachers have ever had a problem with my client’s attitude. He is an upstanding young man who is being wrongfully accused of a crime he did not commit! There was quite the substantial crowd present for the altercation between my client and Mr. Krell in question,” Miss Kryze finishes, “I believe one would be hard pressed to find a witness who would take Mr. Krell’s side.” 

“Well, let’s see these copious witnesses of yours, then.” The other lawyer sneers and sits back down.

Hardcase is the first witness to be called up. He visibly fights not to fidget on the stand. After some prompting, Hardcase says, “The whole thing actually started when Krell started yelling at me,” He glances around the courtroom. “And then he pushed me, and then Fives and Jesse got between us, and then he broke Fives’ arm, and then Rex jumped him.” 

“So what you’re saying is, Krell physically lashed out at both you and Fives before Rex got involved?” Satine asks, and Hardcase nods. 

“I actually think he was trying to de-escalate things first, before Krell broke Fives’ arm. Like, he was telling everyone to like, calm down or whatever. I don’t know, there was a lot going on. It all happened really fast.” 

“But you are certain of the order of events?”

“Yeah,” Hardcase nods again, and Satine smiles. 

“Thank you,” she says. “That’s all I needed from you for now.” 

The next is another student, one of the ones who filmed the whole thing, who basically just repeats and confirms everything Hardcase says. Then another one. Then Fives himself. 

“Yeah, my arm is super broken.” He gestures to his cast, to some quiet snickers in the audience.

It’s undeniable how it happened, and Krell looks uncomfortable as it goes on. The prosecutor keeps his cool though, even as Krell starts to sweat. 

It’s looking good for them, but Rex is still nervous. 

Then, to his surprise, the next person called up is… 

Fox. 

Rex feels his jaw slacken and his eyebrows climb up to his hairline as his estranged brother stares stiffly ahead at the witness stand.

“I was the one to arrest Rex Fett,” Fox says. “When we arrived at the scene he didn’t lash out at me or any of the other officers, did not struggle, just came quietly and cooperatively.” 

“And Mr. Krell? How did he act when you arrived?” Miss Kryze prompts him.

“Mr . Krell,” he levels a harsh look at Krell, and Rex blinks. “Did continue to put up a fight even after he and Mr. Fett were separated, struggling against the two officers that were holding him back. He even shouted at Re-- Mr. Fett, saying he would make him pay.” 

Miss Kryze nods. “I see,” she says, “so, from your point of view as a police officer, who would you say the aggressor was in this scenario?” 

“Mr. Krell,” Fox says. “Without a doubt. Mr. Fett is innocent.” 

Rex blinks. What? 

“Thank you, officer,” Satine smiles. 

The prosecutor clears his throat and stands up. 

“I have some questions of my own for the witness,” He says, and the judge nods. The prosecutor makes his way over to the stand, and Fox straightens. Rex frowns. 

“Officer Fett,” the lawyer looks at Fox with a severed raised eyebrow. Rex shifts uncomfortably, already not liking where this is going. He just wants to go home. “Is your surname merely a coincidence, or would I be correct to infer you are related to Mr. Fett somehow?” 

Fox seems to hesitate. “You would be correct,” he eventually bites out. 

“And what exactly is your relation?” 

Fox pauses again, even longer this time. “We’re… brothers, sir.” 

“Ah,” the lawyer nods. “Brothers, of course,” he says. “And it is also my understanding that Mr. Fett is very popular among his peers… your honour, I find it highly convenient that all of the defence’s witnesses thus far have been either teenagers who are friends with the accused, or immediate family of the accused.” 

“A lot about this case seems convenient to you,” Satine fires back, and the prosecutor looks at her coldly. “What exactly are you implying now?” 

“Perhaps not the whole story is being told, here.”

“It is clear that Mr. Krell broke Fives’ arm before he was attacked by my client!”

“According to your client’s friends and family,” 

“That is the truth! My client was acting in defence of another, thus making his actions lawful!”

“Perhaps one would think so,” the prosecutor keeps that same detached expression while Miss Kryze looks on the verge of seething. “But an important element of that clause is that the accused cannot use force exceeding that which prompted their actions in the first place.” 

He pulls out a piece of paper from the files stacked on the table. “Let’s take a look at the facts, here; Fives Fett has a broken arm. My client has a broken nose, fractured cheekbone, and a broken collarbone, as well as severe bruising along his head, arms and torso.” He looks at Miss Kryze haughtily. “Could it not then be called into question that Mr. Fett went quite overboard in his so-called defence?”

“That is preposterous,” Miss Kryze says, but the prosecutor keeps going. 

“Furthermore, it is also plainly shown in your little cellphone video that before reacting, my client was surrounded by a rather agitated crowd. It’s possible that, in fact, it was my client acting in self defence.”

“That is an absurd notion and you know it! It was Mr. Krell that caused the agitation, him who escalated the situation to violence, and it is him that should be going to jail, not Mr. Fett!”

“You’re a fool--” 

“Order! Order in my court!” The judge bangs her gavel and brings the room to a silence. Rex can feel his heart beating right out of his chest, thunderous in the now quiet courtroom. 

A thirty minute recess is called. 

Satine all but storms out of the courtroom-- she keeps her composure, of course, but she practically smashes her heels on the stone floor as she struts over to the water fountain in the hall. She needs to cool down, that man is just infuriating . After a short drink of water, she stands up and jumps at the sudden appearance of someone standing right behind her. 

She huffs irately and fixes her suit jacket. “Tarkin,” she sneers. “Come to taunt me over your newest bout of logic acrobatics?”

“You seem to be under the impression you are the main character, Kryze,” the other lawyer drawls. “Not everything is about you.” 

“You seem to be under the impression that you know me,” Satine narrows her eyes at him. She tilts her head inquisitively. “I must say, it’s odd to see you out of New York. Representing a high school teacher, I wonder how he could have afforded you.” 

Tarkin smirks. “A friend called in a favour,” he dismisses. “Though I could say I’m just as surprised to see you here as well. Never thought I would see the day where you represent a violent criminal .” 

“And you still haven’t.” Satine glares. “My client is innocent of this crime, and you and I both know this.”

Tarkin gives an airy chuckle. “I find it funny, how our positions in this courtroom have been swapped. Usually it’s you putting anyone and everyone behind bars, and me keeping people out.” 

“You keep any monster walking free so long as they pay you enough,” Satine snaps, and Tarkin seems to find this even funnier. 

“Of course, that’s my job.” His smirk becomes a sneer. “What you and I both know is that it doesn’t matter if the client is innocent or not. If you’re going to continue this little stint as a defense lawyer, then you ought to learn that.” 

With that, he walks away, leaving Satine fuming in the hall. 

Cody sighs as he sits heavily on one of the benches lining the hallways of the courthouse. This is taking-- well, not longer than he thought it would, but too long. The simmering uncertainty of this whole situation, Rex’s entire future on the line… and, and he hates that this feels even at all comparable, but the fact that their lawyer is Obi-Wan’s ex. 

Cody really doesn’t need new stress right now, thank you. 

Of course, as always, his wish is not granted. 

In the corner of his vision appears a pressed blue uniform, and he slowly looks up to see Fox standing there, shifting uncomfortably in place with his hat tucked under his arm. Cody just looks away again, ignoring his estranged brother. He hears Fox sigh.

“Can I, uh, can I sit?” His brother asks. It’s the plain uncertainty leaking off every inch of him that gets Cody to relent and shift over to make room for him on the bench. Fox does sit, leaning his elbows on his knees, turning his uniform hat in his hands. 

A moment passes just in awkward silence, Fox clearing his throat an entire total of two times, before eventually saying, “Uh, I’m, I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, are you?” Cody raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re sorry.” 

Fox slumps. “Look, I’m trying to, like, mend bridges or whatever here, you don’t have to be a dick about it.” He snaps, and sure, maybe Cody was being a little mean with that, but Cody likes to reserve the right to be just a little bit mean all of the time. 

But Fox is right. He doesn’t have to be a dick about it. 

“Fine,” he sighs. “What exactly are you sorry for?” 

“Uh,” Fox keeps looking down at the floor. “Everything. Being complicit in potentially ruining Rex’s whole life. Being a cop at all. Everything that went down ten years ago, all that. Everything I’ve done between then and now.” 

Cody doesn’t say anything for a long minute, just looks at his brother, expression unchanging. “You should have listened to me and dad,” he eventually settles on saying, and Fox sighs and puts his head down, rubbing his brow tiredly. 

“I know-- I know now. I’m sorry.” He lowers his hand and shifts in his seat, visibly chewing the inside of his cheek. He still hasn’t looked directly at Cody. Cody can tell this is hard for him, really he would be disappointed if it was easy, but as angry as he is, he can’t not feel for him. 

He wonders how lonely his brother has been all these years. 

“I’m quitting,” Fox says, and Cody shifts in surprise. “I’m gonna quit being a cop, as soon as this is all over. I thought…” he taps the shiny badge pinned to his chest. “I figured I’d try to sway this in Rex’s favour as an Officer Of The Law,” Cody can hear the derision in his voice when he says it. “And then I’m quitting.” 

“That’s good,” Cody says. “That’s a step in the right direction.” Fox’s face takes on a pinched look. 

“I-- I hate just giving up, but I can’t-- keep going with this. I thought… shit, I don’t know what I thought, but it’s been ten years and I’ve gotten nowhere . You were right-- in the station, you were right. I’ve done nothing but ruin lives.” 

Cody reaches around to put an arm around Fox’s shoulders, and Fox stiffens before relaxing into it. “You thought you could make a difference as a cop,” he says, “I remember you yelled it at me very loudly.”

“It’s impossible,” Fox mutters. “The problem is-- it’s too big for one person to change anything. I thought if I just, kept quiet and got promoted until I could have some actual influence, I’d… but to move up you have to-- do things I don’t wanna confess. It’s fucking evil. Being a cop is fucking evil.” 

Cody rubs his shoulder. “Then why didn’t you quit sooner?” 

“I didn’t want it to be all for nothing… but it was always going to be.” Fox finally looks up at him, and his eyes are wet with tears. “Cody, I-- I wanna come home.” His voice breaks on the word. 

Cody’s face softens, and he nods. “You can come home, Fox,” he says, “We’ll help you. You’ll find a way to actually help people, like you wanted, and we’ll be here for you.” 

Fox nods and crumples like paper, slumping against Cody’s shoulder. Cody feels the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he holds Fox while his brother’s shoulders shake. “Thank you…” Fox practically whimpers, and now Cody really does smile. 

“It’s never too late to do right by the world,” he says. “You know that. I’ll even vouch for you to dad, because don’t think you won’t have to have an even longer talk with him, too.” 

Fox breathes a laugh. “I don’t deserve you,” he says, and Cody chuckles. 

“You really don’t.”

“And while we’re having this heart to heart, I’m gay.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

Fox sits up, looking at him in dubious surprise. “What the fuck, how?”

Cody grins. “You’ve been shaving your legs since you were fifteen.” 

Fox shakes his head with a sigh, and Cody claps him on the shoulder. “Come on, breaks almost done. We gotta go back.” 

He stands, and Fox does as well a beat later, looking caught between misery and hope. 

They go back to the courtroom. Please let this not be the only win of the day, Cody thinks.

The court decides the best way to solve this dilemma is by calling more witnesses. 

“It was just a normal practise at first…” Keasha says when she’s asked to describe everything, every detail, she remembers about the whole thing. “But I guess Hardcase wasn’t really paying attention, because-- he, was like, I don’t know,” she twists the ring on her pinky finger back and forth. It’s a simple metal ring, with a little heart in the center. She wears it all the time. She keeps casting nervous glances at Krell. “Goofing off, I guess? Like, doing cartwheels and kinda just running around in the grass, but then the coach…” 

She trails off, looking down, and takes a deep breath before raising her head again, expression firmer and her voice not as shaky. 

“Coach Krell started yelling at him, and I was sitting right at the front of the bleachers so I heard, like, all of it, and he was really mad and got right in his face and said stuff like, ‘I’m going to teach you respect’ or something, and then everyone started crowding around, and then Krell pushed Hardcase, and then Fives and Jesse got between them, and then he broke Fives’ arm, and then Rex and him started fistfighting. It was scary.” 

“What part of it exactly was scary?” The prosecutor cuts in. 

Miss Kryze huffs before Keasha can answer. “At this point it's a waste of everyone’s time to keep going,” she says. “It is perfectly clear who is really at fault here.”

The prosecutor barely spares her a glance over his shoulder before repeating his question. “What specific part was scary, Miss May?” 

“All of it,” Keasha shrugs. “But especially Krell… he’s always scary. Like, we all knew he was going to hurt someone. He already…” 

“Yes?” Miss Kryze steps sharply over to the stand, past the other lawyer. “What has he already done?”

“Well, he--” Keasha looks down, brow twisting. “I don’t know if I can say it.” 

“You can,” Miss Kryze urges her, despite her declaration just moments ago that this was a waste of time. “You can. Has he already hurt someone?” 

Keasha nods, and Rex leans forward in his seat, anxiety twisting his stomach into knots. 

Miss Kryze steps closer, an intense look on her face. “What has he done?” She demands. “Miss May, what has he done?” 

“He--” Keasha falters. Rex looks across the aisle at Krell; the man’s expression is stony and unreadable. 

“Yes?” 

Keasha covers her mouth, her shoulders jolting, and all of a sudden Rex knows . 

“He, he r-rapes us…” She says, and gasps and shouts erupt all over the courtroom. Krell’s face remains unchanged, hard and cold. Rex feels sick. Keasha keeps going. “ The cheerleaders, every year, at the state championship games he comes into the girls’ hotel rooms and he touches us and makes us touch each other while he watches and --” 

She sobs, and the noise in the courtroom swells until her voice gets completely drowned out under the crashing wave of it. The judge bangs her gavel loud enough to crack through the noise that just keeps rising, and Rex watches as Keasha is led away from the witness stand, shielded from all the eyes. 

The world is plunged into slow motion, and Rex feels his neck twist to look at Krell, sitting there still and blank-faced like nothing just happened at all, and he wishes he had really killed the bastard. 

Chapter Text

She didn’t want this to happen. 

Keasha sits still at her desk, listening to the scratching of chalk as Mr. Kenobi writes on the board, and the low drone of his voice as he introduces the lesson, trying to ignore everyone watching her out of the corners of their eyes. She keeps her back straight and her eyes forward, fighting the urge to hide in her hoodie. Her mom had asked her if she wanted to stay home for a few days, but she said no, she didn’t want to skip any school. Now she’s kind of wishing she had stayed home-- for some reason, she didn’t anticipate the whispers. 

The whispers flit around her like moths, grating on her ears as hard as she tries to block them out. There’s a layer of tension that has marinated the whole school, and she feels like she’s the center of its orbit. 

“Excuse me,” Mr. Kenobi suddenly turns to glower at the class, and everyone jumps in their seats. “I would appreciate some silence in my classroom, thank you very much!”

Everyone holds their breath for a minute while Mr. Kenobi holds the glare, then slowly turns back around to keep writing quotes on the board. As he does, the silence feels physical. Keasha pulls the sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands. 

The sound of the PA system crackling to life cuts through it. “Could Keasha May please come to the principal’s office, Keasha May to the principal’s office, thank you .”

Keasha tenses as every head in the room swivels around to look at her, and she ducks her head as she stoops down to grab her bag off the floor. “Excuse me,” she mumbles, and Mr. Kenobi nods to her. As she stands, she feels something brush against her arm, and looks to see Hardcase, at her desk next to hers, reaching towards her with a concerned look on her face. Keasha shrugs at her, jaw tensed, and turns to walk out the room, her heart in her throat. She already knows what this is about. 

Obi-Wan barely looks up when Keasha comes stomping back into his classroom some time later, only fifteen minutes out from lunch. It’s clear she doesn’t want any spotlight right now. But he does spare a glance when she sits back down, and notices immediately the staunch tension in her shoulders and the upset pinch of her mouth. He wonders what could have happened in Palpatine’s office that could have upset her even more than she was this morning. He notices her and Hardcase both texting under their desks, and decides not to say anything.

When the bell rings, he quietly asks Keasha if she can stay for a few minutes after class. She stops a few feet from the doorway and just looks at him a little startled, like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Uh, sure,” She says, glancing around, and steps back further into the classroom. “What do you need?” 

“I promise you’re not in trouble,” Obi-Wan says first. “I was just curious-- only if you’re comfortable with sharing, of course, you can leave any time you like-- I was curious as to what Principal Palpatine talked to you about in his office?” 

This just seems to make Keasha more nervous, she looks off to the side, towards the door. “Can I… be honest?” She says with an uncertain note in her voice, and Obi-Wan nods, turning his hands palms-out. 

“Please do be.” Obi-Wan reassures her. “Nothing leaves this room that you don’t want to.” 

Keasha nods, her mouth pinching with a frown, and she turns towards the door. “Uh, can I close…?” She points over her shoulder, and Obi-Wan nods. 

“Of course,” he says, and Keasha trots over to close the door to the classroom against the rising noise of children filling the halls for lunch. 

“Here, come sit,” Obi-Wan pulls an extra chair next to his desk, and Keasha comes over as he sits in his own chair. His bad knee pops obnoxiously loudly as he does. “You didn’t hear that,” he says, and Keasha smiles. 

The good humour fades quickly from her, though, and she looks down at the floor as she sits down, letting her bag drop to the floor. “So, uh…” She trails off, and Obi-Wan opens a drawer in his desk and rifles around. 

“Here,” he says, “would you like some sweets? I have emergency turtles.”

Keasha smiles. “You really want that hippest teacher award, huh?” She still holds her hand out for a chocolate. Obi-Wan sniffs as he simply places the little carton in her hand. 

“It is absolutely not fair to make completely correct presumptions about me,” he says, then his expression turns serious. Keasha sighs. She opens up the box, and rummages around for a chocolate. 

“I… principal Palpatine was mad at me for coming out with the truth about Coach Krell.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen, and he sits back in his seat like a marionette with the strings cut. “What?” 

“And it is the truth,” Keasha cries, “I’m not-- I swear I wouldn’t lie about something like that, he-- he’s awful…” 

“I believe you,” Obi-Wan says emphatically, his chest tightening painfully. “I believe you. Why was he angry with you?” 

Keasha sniffles, and Obi-Wan silently grabs the tissue box from off his desk and holds it out. She takes a tissue. “It-- it’s because… you promise I won’t get in trouble?” 

“I promise.” 

“It’s because, when the coach first started, like, harassing us, I went to Principal Palpatine about it because he-- he always acts so nice and like he actually cares about all of us, and when I did he said he would take care of it so I thought…” She dabs the corners of her eyes with the tissue, checks it for running makeup. “But he also told me to, uh, ‘keep quiet’ about it until he did, to, like, preserve our school’s reputation or whatever… and…”

Obi-Wan frowns, stroking his chin. That certainly raises red flags… “And obviously, he never did do anything about it.” 

Keasha shakes her head miserably. “No… he didn’t.” 

Which means Palpatine has been protecting a predator, Obi-Wan thinks with a sick jolt in his gut. Keasha slouches in the chair and eats a turtle. Obi-Wan leans forward and speaks softly. 

“None of this is your fault, Keasha,” he says. “Not a bit.” 

For a moment, Keasha looks like she wants to argue. “I know what people are saying…” she mutters. “I keep hearing the words ‘slutty cheerleaders’ but, I swear that’s not…”

“I know, dear,” Obi-Wan says quietly. “I know. What Krell did was awful, it’s one hundred present his fault. None of you did anything wrong, I promise.” 

Keasha eats another turtle. “I didn’t even want to-- I didn’t want to let it get out like this. It’s, that lawyer lady just dragged the words right out of me.” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan frowns. He knows, Satine always had an uncanny way of doing that. “It wasn’t right. You deserve to be able to speak about this on your own terms.”

Keasha nods and looks up at him for the first time in this whole conversation. “Thank you, Mr. Kenobi,” she says. 

Obi-Wan’s face softens. “Of course, dear,” he says. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“Uhm,” Keasha shifts in her seat. “Actually, there is something that would really cheer me up.” 

Obi-Wan tilts his head. “Yes?” 

A smile slowly spreads across Keasha’s face. “Can you, uh, can you say the line from Brave ? You know, like, ‘if you had the chance to change yer fate, would ya’?”

Sighing, Obi-Wan shakes his head exasperatedly. “What am I, a circus clown?” He chuckles at Keasha’s sheepish grin. “Alright, then.” He schools his expression to be serious again, takes a deep breath, and fully unleashes his scottish accent to say solemnly, “If ye had the chance tae change yer fate, would ye?”

Keasha grins and claps, and Obi-Wan breaks character to give a small smile. “That was great, thank you,” the girl says, and Obi-Wan nods humbly in good humour. 

Inside, though, the uneasy, unsettled feeling remains, twisting around under his skin at the fact that Palpatine has been protecting an actual predator in the school-- and what this implies about the man he has let spend so much time with Anakin. He suspects that Keasha, despite her smiles, doesn’t really feel that much better about the whole situation either. But if creature comforts are all he can provide right now, then he will provide them without hesitation.

“My friends are waiting for me at the lockers,” she says, glancing down at her phone. “Uh, thank you, Mr. Kenobi. For real. For, you know, listening and understanding and everything.” 

She holds out the unfinished box of turtles, and Obi-Wan waves her off. “Keep them,” he says. “And of course, dear. Anytime you need to talk, my door will be open.”

She stands from her seat, turtles in hand, and grabs her bag from the floor. “Sure thing, Mr. Kenobi,” she says. “See ya.”

“Goodbye,” Obi-Wan waves, and Keasha leaves his classroom, closing the door behind her. As soon as she’s gone his smile drops and he slumps back in his chair, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

This does not bode well , he thinks sombrely. Not well at all . 

Palpatine stalks him like his own shadow. 

Around every corner and behind every door at school, he’s there, but Anakin still tries not to just avoid school altogether because of it. He doesn’t wanna have another fight with Obi-Wan. But he still makes himself scarce, like a skittish mouse, hiding away every moment he can. He doesn’t wanna get caught somewhere Palpatine can corner him. 

So he eats his lunch outside. 

It’s sunny. He stretches out on the grass of the back field, closing his eyes and feeling the warm rays on his face. 

He’s thought about finding Keasha and telling her— he doesn’t know, he knows how she feels? At least, he thinks he does. It’s not really the same, he guesses. And besides, he doesn’t know her as well as Rex does. It would probably just be weird. 

He tenses when he hears someone approaching from the school. 

A shadow falls over his face and he looks up to see Ahsoka standing over him, her lunchbag in hand. “Hey Skyguy,” she says, “can I sit with you?” 

He shrugs, and she sits cross legged in the grass next to him, opening up her lunch and pulling out a sandwich. Every now and then Anakin blindly reaches down to his own lunchbag open on his stomach to grab a grape and pop it in his mouth. They eat in silence for a few minutes, until Ahsoka finishes her sandwich. 

“You know what I think is really funny?” She says, and Anakin gives a questioning hum. He’s already zoning out before she even starts talking again. Whole minutes pass while Anakin just looks up at the sky to the background noise of Ahsoka talking at him, watching the clouds go by and trying to keep his brain empty. He doesn’t get people who meditate or whatever— if he tries to clear his mind he just ends up thinking really hard about trying to clear his mind. It never switches off. 

He’s drifting. 

There’s a life-ring floating in the water just out of his reach, he just has to swim forward to grab it. 

He’s too scared to swim. 

Anakin’s focus gets pulled back in when his subconscious hears Ahsoka mention fencing. 

“...I’ve gotten really good,” he tunes back in to hear her say excitedly, “I’ve beaten Barriss in matches a couple of times now, and she even swears she wasn’t throwing them, and I even beat an upperclassman last week!” 

She sounds so enthusiastic about it, a wide grin on her face when Anakin glances over. “That’s really cool,” he says. Ahsoka nods enthusiastically. 

“Pretty soon I’ll be kicking even your ass,” she says with a mischievous little smirk. Anakin scoffs. 

“Yeah, right,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he turns his head away to the side. “You’ll never catch up with me.” 

Ahsoka sniffs. “I will if you keep skipping practise,” she says, jokingly, but Anakin immediately stiffens. Ahsoka notices, and sobers a little. “Why haven’t you been going to practise?” She asks softly. 

Anakin shrugs again. “I just don’t feel like it,” he dodges, and Ahsoka clearly doesn’t buy it. He looks back over to see her looking down, picking at a hole in the knee of her jeans. 

“Are you sure? Because it was like— one day you were all about fencing and the next you hated it. I just don’t—“

“Oh my god, will you just lay off?” Anakin snaps, and Ahsoka goes quiet, and he immediately regrets it. 

“Sorry,” Ahsoka whispers. “I just— miss you. It’s really not the same without you there.”

Anakin says nothing. 

Eventually the bell rings, and Ahsoka packs up her stuff and stands, brushing blades of grass and dirt from her pants. Anakin stays on the ground. Obi-Wan has stopped scolding him for being late, so he’ll be late as much as he likes. 

Ahsoka walks away.

Standing outside the gym doors, Anakin tries to keep his hands from shaking. He takes a deep breath, steps forward, and goes inside. 

Practise has already started, and every head in the gym swivels to look at him as he walks in. Anakin tries not to hunch his shoulders under all the stares. His own eyes sweep across the room, checking-- no, Palpatine isn’t already here. He breathes a sigh of relief and marches over to Obi-Wan, who has stopped what he was doing and just watches Anakin approach with his jaw on the floor. 

He hasn’t brought his gear. He wasn’t planning on doing this. His sword has remained stuffed in the back of his closet, untouched, since march. Anakin stuffs his hands in his pockets, feeling sorely out of place. But at the back of the gym with the other fresh starts, he sees Ahsoka standing there with wide, happy eyes and a huge grin on her face. 

So this was already worth it. 

He reaches Obi-Wan within the rows of students and stops, scuffing the toes of his sneakers on the shiny gym floor. Obi-Wan seems to shake himself out of whatever shock came over him when Anakin walked in. 

“Anakin!” His guardian blinks, still looking a little rattled but smiling. “I’m so glad you’re here,” 

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Anakin halfheartedly smirks, glancing around. “Is there, uh, is there anything I can help with?” 

Obi-Wan nods. “Of course,” he says, and leads him over to the other side of the gym. “Here, would you please help me coach the younger students? We’ve got more new members than I can keep up with.” 

Anakin smiles. “Sure,” he says, and Obi-Wan looks baffled but pleased. He goes back over to where he was, leaving Anakin standing among the underclassmen. The kids all stand there and just watch him for a moment, Ahsoka practically vibrating with excitement. He smiles at her before looking back at the group. “Well, come on,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t just stand there, let’s see some drills!” 

They jump back into action, and Anakin looks around the gym again, feeling himself relax a little. Palpatine isn’t here. He can do this. 

Palpatine can’t take everything from him-- not this. 

The afternoon goes by quickly. Anakin walks around the gym the way he’s seen Obi-Wan do it, giving advice and correcting form and cracking jokes where he needs to, and feels the tension ease from his shoulders little by little as he does. By the time practise has finished, even though he hasn’t fenced yet himself still-- still not sure if he can without feeling worms under his skin-- he still feels lighter than he has in ages. 

He feels normal .

The noise in the gym rises to a clamour as kids get out of their gear and strike up conversations with each other, talking and laughing. Ahsoka scampers off to get her water bottle from her backpack on the bench near the door, and Anakin goes to follow her but is stopped by a kid with a question for him. He nods along as the kid talks to him, asking him what other exercises are best to stay in shape for fencing specifically, and Anakin is just opening his mouth to respond when he glances back over towards the door and freezes. 

Palpatine

is there

surrounded by excited, starstruck students, 

talking to 

Ahsoka.

Anakin’s lungs seize and he feels his stomach fall through his feet, his throat tightening to the point of feeling sick. He shakes. “E-- excuse me,” he mutters to the kid he’d been talking to. Sweat starts to bead on his pale, clammy skin, and he leaves the kid standing there confused, walking towards the small crowd on numb feet. 

His vision tunnels on Palpatine as the man’s face stretches out into a grin that’s all gums, he can’t hear from here over all the noise but he knows exactly what he’s saying, a worn hand floating through the air as he speaks. Ahsoka is beaming up at him and Anakin wants to just run over there and snap the fucking disgusting creeps’ neck. 

He doesn’t realize he’s picked up speed until he practically crashes through the small barricade of students to roughly shoulder his way in, planting himself right between Palpatine and Ahsoka. 

Something shifts in the old man’s eyes when he looks at Anakin, a flash of cruel frost, and Anakin tries not to shudder. “Hey, everyone,” Anakin says a little too loudly to be heard over the rushing in his ears, giving a grin that is probably a little too manic. “What’s up?”

Ahsoka grins. “Mr. Palpatine was just telling us how we’re all improving really well!” She says, and Palpatine nods. His hand lands on Anakin’s shoulder and this time Anakin can’t hide his flinch, bile rising in his throat at the touch. He wants to run away but he keeps his feet glued right there, right between Ahsoka and Palpatine. 

“Yes,” the principal says with a smile that probably only looks rotten to Anakin. “I managed to catch the last few minutes of your practise. You know, Anakin, my boy, you do quite well as a coach. I wonder if you might follow in my footsteps someday.” 

Anakin feels like his head has been submerged in ice water. “Yeah,” he croaks, trying to play along, but his heart is beating so fast he thinks it might give out. His skin burns through his shirt where Palpatine’s hand remains clamped on him. 

Palpatine glances up and off to the side, then looks back at them all with a sigh. “I’m afraid I have other affairs to attend to,” he says, “but it was lovely to see you all again. Especially you, Anakin,” Palpatine gives Anakin a look that feels like lazers burning through his skull, squeezes his shoulder hard enough to make him wince, and strides quickly out of the room. 

As soon as he’s gone it’s like a noxious smog has cleared from the room along with it except for what remains in Anakin’s lungs, making his every breath a wheeze. He doesn’t realize the crowd has cleared and Ahsoka is talking to him until she punches him in the arm and he jumps. 

There’s nowhere to hide .

“What?” He snaps, and Ahsoka looks at him weirdly. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, and he shakes his head, then nods.

“What was Palpatine saying to you?” He asks instead of answering, and Ahsoka’s suspect look is replaced by a gleeful one. 

“He was telling me I’m a natural,” she boasts. “And that I’m really going places. You better watch out, I’ll catch up with you yet!” 

The floor falls out from under Anakin’s feet. 

He remembers what Palpatine told him when he was a freshman-- ‘ you’re a natural, my boy ,’ he had said, ‘ you could really go far in this sport .’ 

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, already turning on his heel. Ahsoka shrugs and grabs her bag, and follows him out as he practically runs from the gym.

He doesn’t notice Obi-Wan watching them leave.

His hands shake as he digs out his keys as they go to the parking lot where Artoo is waiting for them. He can’t believe he’s let this happen. He-- he can’t-- 

He climbs in the driver’s side and Ahsoka gets in next to him. He starts the car and throws Artoo into reverse, pulling out of the parking lot before Ahsoka is even fully buckled in. She yelps as he peels around a corner, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Her hand flies up and grabs the handle above the door. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She holds on tight as Anakin drives even more recklessly than usual. He takes a turn in the opposite direction to get home, the other cars on the road honking at them, and Ahsoka’s head whips around to look out the window behind them. “Hey, you’re going the wrong way!” 

“I’m fine,” Anakin grits out, and Ahsoka glares at him. 

“You are not fine,” she growls. He steps on the gas until they’re going way over the speed limit. Anakin glares at the road ahead of them, laser-focused. Ahsoka looks around, starting to look nervous as they weave around cars. “Skyguy, slow down!” 

Anakin says nothing. He needs to get both of them as far away from that school and Palpatine as he can, as fast as he can. 

“Anakin, you’re scaring me.” 

He barely even hears her, if he does, it doesn’t register. 

They need to get away. 

“Anakin!” 

He snaps back to reality when the red light is right on top of them. Anakin gasps and steps on the brake but they’re already halfway through the intersection and cars are screeching to a stop on either side of them and he lets go of the brake and slams on the gas and they go peeling off again swerving from the force of it and leaving all the angry honking cars behind them as they drive away, hearts beating out of their chests and wide eyed, shock silent. 

Their rattling breaths fill the car as Anakin slows to a normal speed, taking a corner and swinging into an empty parking lot, coming to a lurching stop diagonal on the painted lines of the parking spaces. 

He forces himself to let go of the steering wheel and sucks in a shuddering lungful of air. His hands are shaking-- his whole body is shaking, even his prosthetic rattles from the force of the rest of his arm jittering. He brings his hands to his face and runs them back through his hair, pulling on the strands. His eyes are burning wet. Next to him, Ahsoka is tense and still where he is quivering. 

A moment of charged silence passes as they both just look out the front windshield, not saying anything. 

The sky is gray. 

“You…” Anakin eventually breaks the silence, his gut twisting up in nauseating knots. “You can’t go to fencing practise anymore.” 

Ahsoka snaps her neck to gape at him, an angry pinch in her brow. “What the fuck, why ?” She demands, and Anakin looks down. 

“You just-- you can’t.” 

“Why not!” Ahsoka yells, “Jesus fuck, what is going on with you!?”

“Nothing is going on!” Anakin yells back.

“Bullshit! Something is going on, you’ve been acting off for months! Why won’t you just talk to us?!” 

“I can’t!” 

“And why the hell can’t I fence anymore! Is it because of what principal Palpatine said!”

Anakin stops, nearly freezing in his seat. His jitters magnify. “He--” he chokes out, “he’s dangerous.” 

Ahsoka just looks at him, visibly confused. “What?” she shakes her head. “What do you mean, dangerous? I thought he was, like, your best fucking pal or whatever.” 

“He-- he’s--” Anakin gasps out, pulling on his sleeves. He covers his face, sucking in deep, shuddering breaths. Ahsoka says nothing as he tries to calm down, giving him the space to breathe. 

“He’s a p- a pedophile,” Anakin chokes, and Ahsoka gasps. His words were quiet and muffled, but there wasn’t anything else he could have said. Her hands fly up to cover her mouth and she leans forward, eyes wide in shock.

“What-- he--” she stumbles, and Anakin nods from behind his hands.

“Oh, my god,” she sounds like she’s going to be sick. “Did he--?”

A second passes as Anakin just sits there and trembles, and Ahsoka leans in further. “Anakin?” 

“No…” he whispers, shaking his head. “He tried to but-- I-- I got away.”

“Holy shit…” Ahsoka breathes. The blood drains from her face, and she lowers her hands, they hover in the air as she doesn’t know what to do with them. She doesn’t know what to do. “We-- we have to tell somebody--”

“No!” Anakin snaps, emerging from behind his hands as he hits the steering wheel. “We can’t.” 

“We have to do something!” Ahsoka cries, gesturing widely in front of them. “He-- he’s just--” 

“No one would believe me,” Anakin cuts her off with a wail. “Everyone looks up to him and adores him and no one would ever believe me and--”

“I believe you,” Ahsoka breathes. Her eyes are watery. “I believe you, and-- and Obi-Wan would, and our friends--” 

“That wouldn’t be enough!” Anakin shouts. It echoes in the confines of the car. “It-- it’s not going to be enough. There’s nothing we can do.” His voice peters out into a small, choked sound. He sounds defeated, and Ahsoka doesn’t know what to do. 

They sit there for a minute, marinating in the despair, and Anakin whispers, “I trusted him…” 

“Yeah,” Ahsoka sighs. “Everyone does… I wonder how many other students he’s-- targeted.” 

Anakin looks down. His eyes feel puffy and are probably red as hell, but he hasn’t shed a tear yet, and he doesn’t want to. “I wonder how many more he’s going to.” He mumbles, and Ahsoka’s face twists into a look of grim determination. 

“None,” she says with finality. “None. We’re going to put a stop to this.” 

Anakin slumps forward, resting his forehead on the top of Artoo’s steering wheel. “ How ,” he groans miserably. “How? What can we possibly do?”

“Obi-Wan will know what to do,” Ahsoka says, and Anakin shakes his head. 

“No,” 

“No?” 

“I can’t tell Obi-Wan.” 

“Why not?” 

“I--” Anakin hesitates. “I… I’m scared, Ahsoka. I don’t know what to do and I feel, just, totally out of control of my whole life and I can’t-- I just can’t. I’m sorry. I know I’m letting everyone down. I’m sorry.” 

Ahsoka looks down, chewing her lip, and Anakin sags further against the wheel. He’s just-- so tired. He’s drained.

“I’m sorry, too,” Ahsoka says softly. “I’m— I’m sorry it happened and, and I’m sorry, I don’t know… I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“It’s not your job to fix it,” Anakin sighs, sitting up and tilting his head back against the headrest. “You're just a kid. We… that’s all either of us is. Just kids.”

“Yeah.” 

The sky gets darker as the clouds get thicker. Rain starts to fall, lone drops tapping every now and then on the roof of the car, the only sound in the small space. 

Anakin starts Artoo up again and pulls back out of the empty lot. They go home. 

They don’t talk about it again that day. 

Chapter Text

His life is ruined by an email. 

Well, alright. That is extremely hyperbolic. But it is a little bit true. Just a little bit. 

The email is from Satine. The subject line is ‘Lunch’.

Obi , it opens. What will hopefully be the last day of court proceedings is this Sunday, and after that I will be going back to New York. These last several days have been so hectic, it feels as though we have had no time at all to catch up after all these years. Would you be amenable to spending your Saturday afternoon having lunch with me? We could chat, properly catch up, maybe reminisce a little. You don’t have to accept, of course, but I think it would be nice. I miss you. 

You can pick the restaurant, if you’d like. 

Faithfully, 

Satine

Obi-Wan responds with a polite yes, that does sound nice , because really, as ever-exhausted as he is, he really can’t take a rain check now after how they split in the first place. He feels he owes her this much, at least. He’d say she’ll have to pay, but luckily, he knows a place they can get a meal for free. 

The bell above the door rings as Obi-Wan enters the diner that Saturday just after noon. It’s busy in the medium-sized diner, typical of a weekend for this place. Obi-Wan scans the place, looking for… ah, yes. 

He is early, but Satine was always earlier. 

She’s sitting primly in one of the booths, looking at her phone. She’s perched on the edge of the retro vinyl bench, her purse open on the seat next to her. She’s dressed just as proper and professional as she always is. Then again, so is he. Obi-Wan goes over and sits down across from her. 

“Obi-Wan,” Satine looks up from her phone as he takes his seat, placing it face-down on the table, and smiles a close-lipped smile. “It’s good to see you.” 

“You as well,” Obi-Wan responds politely, and Satine looks around. 

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting… a place like this.” She says diplomatically, and Obi-Wan smiles. No, it’s certainly not what Satine would have picked. 

“This is my favourite place to eat out,” he says. “I’ve been coming here since I was a young teenager.” 

“Really?” Satine nods at him. She opens her mouth to speak again, but is cut off by a waitress rolling up to their booth. 

“Obi-Wan!” The middle-aged waitress grins. She’s tall, with deep crows feet peeking out from behind her thick round glasses, and her auburn but grey at the roots curls pinned back. Her dress is as retro as the rest of the diner, in a light peach colour with her white apron as pristine as ever. “How are you, honey?” She asks him. Obi-Wan smiles up at her. 

“I’m well Flo, how are you?” He says, and Flo’s smile widens.

“Same as always,” she says, patting Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and looks over at Satine. “Who’s this?” 

“This is Satine,” Obi-Wan says, gesturing with Satine with his forearms rested on the table. “An old friend of mine.” 

“Well,” Flo smiles at her. “Any friend of Obi-Wan’s is a friend of mine.” 

Satine returns the smile, even if it is a little tight, and Flo puts two menus down on the table for them. 

“I'll go tell Dex you’re here,” Flo tells Obi-Wan, then skates off. Satine picks up the menu gingerly. She seems tense. 

“So, how are you, Obi?” She asks, and Obi-Wan shrugs. He doesn’t need to look at the menu. 

“I could be better, all things considered,” He says, “But I’m alright. How are you?”

“The same, if I’m being honest.” Satine chuckles. “Really, I--” 

She’s cut off again by a shout from the other end of the restaurant. “Obi-Wan!” The booming voice cheers, and a large, round in every way man with brown skin, braids, and a grease-stained apron comes out from the kitchen. Obi-Wan grins and stands just as Dex reaches them and the older man immediately sweeps him up into a tight bear hug, nearly lifting him off the ground. Obi-Wan laughs and reaches around to pat Dex on the back. “It’s good to see you again! Here, let me get a good look at you,” 

Dex sets Obi-Wan down and holds him out at arm’s length with his hands on his shoulders, scanning him critically up and down. Obi-Wan lets out a fond if exasperated sigh, already knowing what Dex is going to say. 

“You’re still too skinny,” The man says, just as predicted. “I work so hard to put some meat on your bones, and it never works.” He shakes his head. “I’ll make sure to serve you double today.”

Obi-Wan laughs as he sits back down, and Dex leans a hand on the table. “You know that’s not necessary,” he says, and Dex grins. 

“And you know I’m going to do it anyway.” He looks at Satine, who has been sitting tensely, like she isn’t sure what to do with herself. “Flo said you brought a friend?”

“Hello,” Satine gives a small wave. “My name is Satine.”

Dex’s head twists to look back at Obi-Wan, expression confused. “That girl who--” 

“Ah-- yes,” Obi-Wan coughs, cutting him off before he can finish the sentence. “She’s visiting from New York.” 

Dex raises his eyebrows. “Well alright, then,” he says. “I’ll leave you kids to it. Holler if you need anything, alright son?” 

And with that, he pats Obi-Wan on the shoulder and walks off back to the kitchen, leaving Obi-Wan and Satine alone in the booth again. 

“They seem nice,” Satine says, and Obi-Wan nods. 

“I worked here for a couple of years as a server when I was a teen,” He explains. “Dex and Flo are the type to take anyone and everyone under their wings. Look,” he points over at the far wall, near the doorway to the kitchen. “They put up a framed photo of me from when I worked here.” Along the wall is a short row of old-to-new photos of teens and young adults, all posed somewhere in the restaurant, wearing the same server’s uniform, Obi-Wan’s photo among them. 

“That’s cute,” Satine says, lacing her fingers together under her chin. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan responds, and just as Satine opens her mouth to speak again, she is once more interrupted by Flo returning to their booth, her notepad and pen in hand. 

“You kids are ready to order?” She asks, and Obi-Wan notices Satine smother a frustrated huff. 

“I’ll have the caesar salad, light dressing please, and a glass of water.” She moves to hand the menu back to Flo, but Flo doesn’t take it at first, just looks at Satine with a raised eyebrow. 

“That’s all?” She asks, and Satine nods with a tight smile. 

“Yes, that’s all.” She says. 

“You know the salad is a side, right honey?” 

“I know what I would like, thank you very much,” Satine snaps, and Flo stills, looking at her with a blank expression. She takes the menu. Satine tucks back away a stray strand of hair. Flo turns to Obi-Wan. 

“I’ll just have my usual, thanks Flo.” Obi-Wan says, casting a glance at Satine. Flo nods with a smile. 

“Thought so,” she says, “Dex is experimenting a new milkshake flavour, it’s strawberries and cream. You want to test it?” 

“I’d love to,” Obi-Wan smiles, and Flo clicks her pen. 

“Got it. Your food will be ready in short time,” she says, then skates off. Obi-Wan gives Satine a flat look that she returns. 

“Did you really have to be rude to Flo?” He says, and Satine sniffs. 

“She didn’t even offer us anything to drink when she gave us our menus,” she says, and Obi-Wan shrugs incredulously. 

“So? It’s busy, it’s fine.” 

“It’s basic customer service,” Satine taps pointedly on the table. 

Obi-Wan huffs. “She’s not a robot, Satine, it’s not a big deal.” 

“I’m not saying it’s a big deal, it’s just the principle of the thing.” 

“You still didn’t have to be rude,” 

“I wasn’t rude,” 

“You always used to do this, too,”

“Just what does that mean,” 

“You are always rude to the people I care about!” Obi-Wan says, “Every time Bant would be over you would have some snide comment to say, or you would just be contrary to literally every single thing she said, and that one time you met Qui-Gon all you would--” 

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Obi-Wan,” Satine rolls her eyes. “You are blowing this completely out of proportion. I’m just stressed, alright, sorry I’m not all sunshine and daisies.” 

“That’s not--” Obi-Wan cuts himself off, taking a deep breath through his nose. He didn’t come here just to fight. He came here to mend bridges. He glances down at his messenger bag. There’s something he wants to get over with.  “Alright, look, here,” he says, flipping his bag open and rifling around in it. Satine peers curiously over the table. 

Obi-Wan pulls out the little box he’s held on to like a fool for eight years and plunks it without ceremony down on the tabletop between them. He tries to keep his face blank, but a small frown remains anyway. Satine straightens, shocked, looking between him and the box. She has to know what it is-- exactly what it is, she packed it in that box of his things she mailed to him after the breakup, after all.

He doesn’t want to think about how she must have reacted when she found it in the back of his sock drawer.

“Obi…” Satine breathes, looking at him with wide, sad eyes, and Obi-Wan looks away.

“Just take it,” he says. “It’s yours, it was meant for you. Do whatever you want with it, sell it, give it away, burn it, keep it, throw it in the ocean, I don’t care. Just… take it. I don't want to have it any more.”

Slowly, Satine blinks at him, her expression a study in the fine line between understanding and bewilderment. She takes it, and places the box, without opening it, in her purse. Neither of them really know what to say next, a beat of awkward silence passing between them. Eventually, Obi-Wan figures Satine probably wants an apology. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Ending things between us the way that I did was… well, it was immature, and borderline cowardly. You deserved better…”

Satine shakes her head with a small smile. “You broke my heart, Obi-Wan,” she says simply. “But even with how it ended, the years I spent with you were the happiest of my life. And I want you to know that there will always be a special place for you in my heart, no matter what.” She reaches out and places a hand between them on the table. “Deserving has nothing to do with it. We had what we had and it was wonderful while it lasted, and then it was over, and whatever next thing the universe has planned for us begins. That’s just how life goes.” 

Obi-Wan sighs, nodding.

“I was angry, and upset of course, how couldn't I be? But I was also worried about you,” Satine goes on to say, looking him in the eye. “You were off the radar as soon as you left, and then you left that terribly cryptic message weeks later… and when I’d heard you’d dropped out of school as well, I was afraid you-- or at least, were planning to… do something ill-advised.” Her eyes lower for a second. Obi-Wan had had bad low points in his mental health more than once in the time they knew each other, and Satine always feared the worst from it. “I just want to know… what happened?” 

Obi-Wan never actually told anyone the full story of that happened the day that Qui-Gon died. Just the memory of it brings up so many different, terrible emotions, misery and anger and bitterness and an awful sense of defeat, he’s never even tried to put all that into words. But Satine reaches further forward and places her hand on his folded on the table in front of him, and it’s as if she reaches right into that wound that’s been hidden deep away within him all this time and pulls it right out. 

“It was… I…” Obi-Wan searches for the words, looking down. Satine squeezes his hand. “He… died the same day I arrived. I touched down at the airport and…”

Then

He went straight to the hospital upon touching down in the city, nerves twisting his stomach into sick knots the whole cab drive there. As soon as the car screeched to a stop outside the front doors Obi-Wan blindly thrust a handful of money at the driver-- it was probably too much, because the driver didn’t complain at him as he stumbled out of the car. He made his way inside, bag heavy on his shoulder, talked to the receptionist. It was a miracle he arrived during visiting hours. 

Numb feet carried him up to Qui-Gon’s room, led by a nurse with a carefully sympathetic look on her face.

It wasn’t until he actually saw Qui-Gon that the dam started to break. Lying in that hospital bed, so pale and gaunt and weak, what hair he had left thin and gray and dull. He already looked like a cadaver. The man had always had a love for life and a spark for it in his eyes, but when the body-on-the-bed-that-couldn’t-possibly-be-Qui-Gon’s eyes creaked open, that spark wasn’t there. The nurse left to give them some privacy, and Obi-Wan dropped his bag and fell into the hard chair next to the bed.

“Obi-Wan…” Qui-Gon whispered, his voice even weaker than it had sounded over the phone just days ago, and it was obvious that forming words had become a struggle. “Obi-Wan…” 

Obi-Wan didn’t realize a tear had slipped down his cheek until Qui-Gon raised a shaky, skeletal hand up to brush it away. He sucked in a quivering breath and took Qui-Gon’s hand in his, squeezing as tightly as he dared. 

“Qui-Gon, I’m so sorry,” he said, “It’s alright, I’m here now…” 

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon coughed, a sense of urgency now taking over in his voice. “Listen to me. There’s a boy-- Anakin-- Anakin Skywalker is his name. I was… going to adopt him, but I…” he shivered. “He needs a good home. He deserves a… I need you to take care of him.”

Obi-Wan frowned, confused, his brow furrowed together and up as sorrow rose within him like a flooding basement, and his heart sunk down to his feet. “Qui-Gon?”

“Promise me,” Qui-Gon hissed. “The boy, please, promise me you’ll take care of him…” 

He felt more tears fall from his lashes and nodded miserably even as he tried to smile for the sake of the man who was his father in all but name and legal status. “I promise.” 

Then Qui-Gon let out a sigh and relaxed, as if he finally had released the last atom of energy left in his body. His eyes slipped shut and his thin hand went slack in Obi-Wan’s clammy one.

The beeping of the heart monitor that had been deafening in the quiet room extended into one long, flat, high pitched note. Obi-Wan gasped and leaned forward, clutching Qui-Gon’s hand to his chest and frantically cupping the man’s cool cheek. “Qui-Gon? Qui-Gon!”

It was no use. Qui-Gon was gone.

“No…” Obi-Wan let himself fall forward and drop his forehead on his’ father’s chest like he had when he was young and afraid, and cried.

Now

“Oh, Obi,” Satine breathes as Obi-Wan scrubs his eyes, pushing his glasses up his forehead out of the way. “That’s awful, I’m so sorry.” 

“I was just, completely destroyed after that.” He whispers. “There aren’t even words enough to describe all that I felt, I just… felt positively wretched. There was so much I never got to say, not even goodbye…”

Obi-Wan stifles as gasp as the burning in his eyes suddenly becomes stronger, and the tears threaten to spill. He wills them not to, retracting his hands and tucking them into his sleeves, elbows stuck close to his torso. “I met Anakin the next day, and the adoption papers were signed not long after that… I had my phone turned off the whole time, so I didn’t get any of your messages, I’m sorry. Just… it was taking everything I had just to get out of bed in the morning, taking care of Anakin became the only lifeline I had the strength to hold on to. You deserved better. I should have just pulled it together and called you so we could talk about it properly, but I…” was too drained to talk to you, “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have been able to maintain a long distance relationship like that in any case, and I didn’t want to put you in a position where you thought you might have to consider chasing me across the ocean just to make it work.” 

I didn’t want you to chase me across the ocean. 

“I understand,” Satine smiles a forgiving smile. He wishes she wouldn’t be. 

“And I--” Satine hesitates. “I haven’t been entirely transparent with you, either.” She sighs, and Obi-Wan tilts his head in questioning. 

But before he can ask what he means, Flo comes back to their table with two trays of their food. “Here you are,” she says as she sets the plates and drinks down. She looks at Obi-Wan and her eyes widen. “Honey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Flo, thank you,” Obi-Wan smiles at her, though it is still a little watery even as his eyes start to dry. Flo looks unconvinced, but she pats his head and nods anyway. 

“Well, enjoy the food, and let me know if you need anything,” she says, and rolls away. 

Satine looks down at her skinny salad. Obi-Wan pulls his own plate closer towards him. His burger and onion rings look as delicious as they always do, but he finds himself not hungry. He takes a sip of his milkshake as Satine takes a drink of water and pushes the salad around on her plate. 

He’ll have to tell Dex the new milkshake flavour is really good. 

“You were saying?” Obi-Wan prompts, and Satine sighs. 

“Yes,” She says, and picks her phone up, and Obi-Wan watches in confusion as she clears the notifications from the lock screen and turns the device around so he can see the screen. 

Her lock screen is a picture of a young boy, looking about six or seven in the photo if Obi-Wan had to guess, with round cheeks, a narrow nose and strawberry blond hair. There’s a big smile on his face, and ice cream smeared all over his hands and face. 

He stares at the image for a long moment, even takes the phone and adjusts his glasses to get a closer look, not comprehending. He examines the bright blue of the boy’s eyes and-- 

Realization hits him like a truck going 100 mph and he’s a deer on the highway, his guts splattering on the pavement. His lungs empty themselves in a great big rush of air, and he stares at Satine with eyes wide like saucers. 

“...” He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Ours ? He wants to say, and the question on his face must be obvious, because Satine nods serenely. Obi-Wan looks down at the picture again, a heavier lump than before forming in his throat. Why didn’t you tell me ? The desperate question gets stuck underneath it.

“I didn’t realize I was pregnant until after I had already accepted you were gone and had stopped trying to contact you,” Satine explains. “His name is Korkie-- well, his name is Gordon, but everyone calls him Korkie, it’s a nickname. He’s still in New York right now, Bo is watching him while I work on this case.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t look up from the picture of-- of… his son. 

Why didn’t you tell me ?

“You named him after my birth father?” He chokes out, and Satine looks bashful. 

“I thought it would be nice,” She says. “Would you like to meet him?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan responds immediately. “Of course I do.” 

Satine takes her phone back. A moment passes, and Obi-Wan looks thoughtful. He picks at his onion rings. “Anakin is one of the most precious things in the world to me... Ahsoka, C-- all the people I’ve met…” he says, “I can’t help thinking maybe in another life we could have… but… I couldn’t trade the life I have now for anything.”

Satine nods, looking down at her food. “I know,” she says softly. “I feel the same.” 

Obi-Wan smiles at her. “Friends?” He offers his hand, and Satine looks up at him, her expression softening. 

“I would love nothing more.”

They eat. Satine doesn’t make any new comments on the customer service, or the food or the decor or anything like that, and Obi-Wan doesn’t bring up any of the more burning questions about the fact that they had a child together this whole time that he never knew about. Their conversation is light and amicable. It’s nice, actually. Obi-Wan thinks they should have been just friends from the very start. 

Some time passes as they talk, and they eventually finish their respective meals. Obi-Wan stacks their dishes, and Flo rolls over to collect them with a quick kiss to the top of his head. Obi-Wan laughs and brushes her off, and Satine smiles lightly. Eventually, Dex comes back over, and plunks a bill down in front of Satine.”Here you go,” he says, then turns to Obi-Wan. “So what did you think of the new milkshake?” He asks, and Obi-Wan gives him a thumbs up. 

“It was delicious,” he smiles, and Dex grins, patting him on the shoulder. 

“I’ll add it to the menu, then.” He says. “Don’t be a stranger now, got it, son? And bring those kids around again sometime, I miss them.” 

Obi-Wan nods. “I will.”

Dex walks back to the kitchen, busy as ever, and Satine pays her bill. “You know,” Obi-Wan says, “I realize we just ate and it’s a little early still, but would you like to come over for dinner? I think it would be nice for you to actually properly meet Anakin and Ahsoka.” 

Satine smiles widely at him. “I would like that very much,” she says. 

So they go back to Obi-Wan’s. 

“I must say, I’m intrigued to see what it looks like,” Satine says when they’re in the hallway outside the unit. “This was Qui-Gon’s old place, right?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says contemptuously. “And it shows.” He opens the door and they step inside.

“Oh.” Satine looks around. Obi-Wan sighs. 

“It used to be worse.” He grumbles. He’s taken down most of the new age hippie decor, but unfortunately there was nothing to be done about the horrible, eye-sore wallpaper-- or at least, nothing that he had the time or energy for. Ahsoka’s bedroom door opens, and she peers out. 

“Hey Obi-Wan when’s d-- oh, hey! You’re that lawyer!” She says when she sees them at the front door, stepping fully out of her room. Satine smiles at her, and Obi-Wan nods. 

“Yes,” he says as he puts away his coat and goes into the kitchen. “Satine is actually an old friend of mine. We met in university.”

“That’s neat,” Ahsoka says, meandering out further into the living room, hands in her sweater pockets. “Obi-Wan knows a lot of people.” 

“He makes friends everywhere he goes,” Satine smiles and goes over to shake Ahsoka’s hand. 

“Ahsoka, Satine, Satine, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan calls from the kitchen. “Ahsoka is my-- uh--” he cuts himself off suddenly, feeling a balloon pop in his brain over how to introduce Ahsoka. He was about to say ‘daughter’. 

“I’m his foster kid,” Ahsoka says for him as she shakes Satine’s hand. Obi-Wan turns towards the cupboards. 

Foster kid, he thinks. Shit. Have I made my relationship with Ahsoka the same as mine was with Qui-Gon? He glances over his shoulder at the girl. He’ll need to do better. 

“Is Anakin here?” He asks as he digs around in the freezer for the fish he’d been saving. 

“He’s in his room,” Ahsoka replies, and Obi-Wan figures it best not to bother him, then. Satine walks back over to the kitchen. 

“What are you making?” She asks when she sees him set out the fish to defrost. 

“It’s just halibut,” Obi-Wan says. Ahsoka trails in as well. 

“Haha you said butt,” she jokes, and Obi-Wan sighs.

He makes dinner. 

Anakin stays in his room, but that’s fine. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to pressure him. He, Ahsoka and Satine eat dinner, exchanging light chitchat. Satine says something about how much she missed his cooking. 

“I always suspected you only liked me for my cooking,” Obi-Wan jokes, and Satine shakes her head. 

“No,” she denies with a smile, but Obi-Wan can tell she’s not just playing along with the joke, she really means it. 

Obi-Wan sets aside a plate for Anakin and puts away the leftovers and cleans up the dishes. Ahsoka retreats back into her room. He and Satine move to the couch to continue talking.

It’s getting late, the sun already almost down outside. Obi-Wan had worried it would be strange to have Satine here, an uneasy colliding of worlds, but to his pleasant surprise it hasn’t felt odd at all. They must have both mellowed out as they got older and matured, because they’re able to actually interact normally. Unlike how it had been when they knew each other before, where every conversation would end in fire one way or another.

Although… 

As Satine tells him some story with great glee about something one of her coworkers did at some new years party or whatever he notices her vaguely inching closer to him on the couch, slowly approaching millimetre by millimetre but not so slowly that Obi-Wan doesn’t notice. 

He leans against the back of the couch as she talks, listening, with his arm over the cushion and leaning his head on his hand, watching with growing levels of wariness as she gets closer and closer. 

Then Satine ends one of her floaty gestures with placing her hand directly on his thigh, high on his thigh, and leans forward ever so slightly, and as soon as she touches him he straightens, scooting away until he’s right up against the armrest. 

“Right,” he coughs, looking away awkwardly, his posture tucking inward, “uh,”

“Oh,” Satine winces and retreats back into her own space. “Sorry, I thought--” 

Obi-Wan clears his throat and shakes his head. “Look, I-- I’m sorry if I didn’t make it clear that I have moved on.” He says firmly, still looking off to the side. He glances over when Satine sighs. 

She’s recycling his pose from just moments earlier, leaning casually on the back of the couch. “You don’t want to have just a little bit of fun?” She asks, with a small, playful smile and raised eyebrows. “For old times' sake?” 

Obi-Wan does not match her lighthearted mood. “I think that would be an astronomically bad idea,” he says, and Satine’s face loses its playfulness, her expression turning cool and stony and sad. 

“There’s someone else, isn’t there.” She says quietly. Obi-Wan’s mouth pinches. 

“That’s not the only reason it would be a bad idea.” 

“So there is,” Satine says, voice flat, and Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow at her. 

“So what if there is?” He snaps. “I’m perfectly within my rights, we split up years ago.” 

“How can you say that?” Satine demands, “What we had, did it mean nothing to you!”

“Sorry, did you want me to spend the rest of my life pining miserably after you?” Obi-Wan says sarcastically. “Just because a relationship was meaningful doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to accept when it has ended.” 

“You’re the one who ended it,” Satine accuses, “Out of nowhere, in a voicemail at three am!” 

“And what,” Obi-Wan retorts, and Satine fumes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in another relationship,” she implores, “Did you think it was funny to string me along like this!”

“Like what!” Obi-Wan looks at her incredulously. “I was being polite and friendly , it’s not my fault you interpreted that wrong!” 

“Well of course, silly me, everything I do is wrong, isn’t it! And I guess you think you’ve never done a thing wrong in your life!”

“No, you’re the one who thinks that!” Obi-Wan points at her. “I realize that the way I broke up with you was a dick move, and I acknowledged and apologized for that!”

“I don’t think you realize just how much that hurt me!”

“Well you know what else hurts,” Obi-Wan says with a bitter curl, “The fact that I went eight years not knowing I had another child!” 

Satine just looks at him, eyes wide and angry. Obi-Wan huffs, taking his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, Satine, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were already long gone,” Satine glowers, “and besides, you had always said you never wanted to have children!”

“Clearly I changed my mind!” Obi-Wan gestures widely to the apartment around them, specifically to the doors leading to the rooms of his two kids. Satine looks at him incredulously.

“How was I supposed to know you would!” 

“You didn’t even give me that chance!”

“Why should I have!” 

Obi-Wan’s jaw drops. “Are you serious! Maybe I would have liked to at least have been presented with the choice over whether or not I am at all present for the first eight years of my child’s life!” 

“Well did you consider that maybe I didn’t want to see you after what you did!”

“This isn’t about you and me! For one thing, it has been almost ten years, and for another, this is you acting as if you have never made a mistake in your life! Stop acting like everything you have ever done was perfectly justifiable and admit when you are wrong for once!” 

“You know what I didn’t miss? Your complex of perpetual moral superiority,” Satine sneers. 

“You’re the one with the superiority complex!” 

“Whatever,” Satine snarks, “You’re getting on my case about not wanting to speak to you again so soon but you never reached out either!”

“I didn’t have a reason to!” 

“Oh,” Satine chuckles darkly. “Yes, I know, you were just so eager to move on after all we have been through together!” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “If you still think we had some perfect, fairytale romance then you must be delusional!”

“It also doesn’t surprise me that you’d so readily forget all the good in favour of the bad, you’ve always been a pessimist!” Satine yells, “Honestly I think you just like to be miserable!”

“We just don’t work, Satine! We never did! And we never would have, no matter how different the circumstances could have been!”

“You know that’s not true, this is just you being dreary and needlessly negative again just like you always were! You were the one who had a ring hidden away, don’t act as if what we had never meant anything!”

“I’m not saying you never made me happy, or every moment with you was torture! But that ring sat in my drawer for over almost two years as I dithered, asking myself, is this what I really want? Is this what you want? Is this really what I want the rest of my life to be like? Would I regret this? And I know now, looking back on it, I would have regretted that, getting married. Trying to raise a child together. All we ever did was fight or fuck, there was so much conflict between us all the time over every little thing and it was exhausting! I’d never deny that we loved each other, but sometimes it was hard to tell if we even liked each other.”

Satine freezes for a moment, just looking at him, then stands from the couch and turns away from him. 

“It’s funny, how you say that in the past tense,” she says, “that we loved each other…”

Obi-Wan stands as well. “Satine…” he trails off. 

“I still love you, Obi-Wan.” Satine admits, unleashing the confession like a plague. “And I think I always will. I’m never going to find another man like you.”

She looks at him over her shoulder, face melancholic. Obi-Wan shakes his head. 

“I was never the man you wanted, Satine,” he says matter-of-factly. “And I was never going to be. I’m sorry, but whoever exists in your perfect, rose tinted version of the past… I was never really him. And you would have run yourself ragged trying to make me be him if we went on any longer. I think our romance would have ended up killing both of us.”

Satine scoffs and looks away again. “I suppose this is what I get, for falling for a poet.” 

Obi-Wan frowns. “Satine--” 

She cuts him off, throwing her hands up in frustration and turning back around to face him, the resentment clear on her face. “Fine! Fine. You’ve moved on. That’s perfectly fine. Clearly it’s time I did as well.”

“Yes, I think so.” 

“Well, silly me, then,” Satine says derisively, “for not seeing just how over it was. ‘Friends’, what a laughably absurd concept for us. We were never friends.”

“No, you’re right,” Obi-Wan sighs. “I don’t think we were.”

Satine grabs her purse and her jacket. “It’s late,” she says, voice and eyes suddenly empty. “I should be getting back to my hotel.” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agrees. Satine moves to turn away again. 

“Goodbye, Obi-Wan. I-- we will arrange for a time for you and Korkie to meet.” 

“Thank you.” 

And with that she turns and walks out of the unit without another word or glance, leaving Obi-Wan standing in the living room, feeling drained. Before he can finish mentally collecting himself, he hears a door open behind him. He turns and sees Anakin standing in the doorway of his room, emerged for possibly the first time today, his hair a mess. He looks at Obi-Wan with an odd, wide eyed look on his face. 

“You have a secret kid?” He asks, and Obi-Wan gives a gravelly sigh. 

“Not now, Anakin,” He groans, and goes into his own room, closing the door firmly behind him. He goes over to his bed and falls down onto the shitty mattress. 

He misses Cody.

All he wants to do is sleep. 

He's entirely certain he can't and will never have either of those things, but, if he’s lucky, he might actually catch an hour or two of restless rest tonight. 

Chapter Text

It’s a fresh morning, bright and crisp and clear with summer just around the corner. Outside, the air is warm and playful. But inside the courthouse, things are much more tense. Cody takes a deep breath as he walks through the halls towards the courtroom where Rex’s trial is taking place-- the rest of the family is already inside, but Cody had to go back because he forgot his wallet in the car. A voice stops him at the corner, and he turns to see Obi-Wan walking towards him. 

“Cody, how are you?” He asks, and Cody spends a long minute just looking at him. He looks as neat and put together as he always does, but somehow the bags under his eyes seem darker, and his cheeks look hollower than they should. 

“You look terrible,” he says with a hint of a teasing smile, and Obi-Wan looks off to the side. 

“I didn’t get much sleep at all last night, I’m afraid,” he admits, and looks back at Cody. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says. Cody sighs. They continue walking towards the courtroom, side by side.

“Stressed,” he answers honestly. “Rex’s entire future is on the line today.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan frowns next to him. “It’s not right, the fact that we live in a world where a kid could face prison time for doing the right thing… this whole system is a sham. I’m sorry, your family doesn’t deserve this-- no one does.” 

Cody looks down. “Thanks,” he says softly. “Yeah, it’s fucked up. I just hope Miss Kryze will make good on her promises and get Rex acquitted.” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan mutters. Cody glances over at him. 

“Oh yeah, about that--” Cody says, and Obi-Wan huffs. “What--”

“Cody, please, I don’t want to talk about it,” he shakes his head, and Cody closes his mouth before he can go and put his foot in it.

They arrive at the courtroom and go inside, everyone else already there. Ahsoka and Anakin are sitting with the rest of the Fetts, so when Cody sits down among the group Obi-Wan takes the last available seat in the row, next to his. They share a silent glance as they sit. The session hasn’t started yet, and a lot of people are talking, but not their group. The gravity of the situation is not lost on them. 

Then Rex and Krell are both brought out from separate ends of the room, flanked by two officers each. Rex walks in with his shoulders back and chin held high, and Cody tries to make eye contact with him, but Rex just looks resolutely straight ahead as he’s seated. 

The court is called into session. 

“What does the offence have to say about the allegations made against Mr. Krell last session?” The judge asks with a severe raised eyebrow, and the prosecutor stands, adjusting his tie. Cody can’t see his face, but his posture is just as cool and collected as it was a few days ago. Whoever this guy is, he’s not some penny lawyer-- this guy is experienced. Miss Kryze had better make good on her promises. 

“I see no reason to believe Miss May was telling the truth,” The prosecutor says icily. “As I posited last session, these are all high schoolers-- children -- who could spin any sort of tale to get their friend off scot free. While it was certainly a moving performance,” the lawyer sneers, “It had to have been a performance nonetheless. There is no evidence to support these wild accusations.” 

The judge’s expression remains stony, and she turns her head to look at Miss Kryze, who also stands. “As a matter of fact,” she begins, “After contacting the hotel in which the Coruscant North High football team and cheer squad stayed during the state-wide games, they surrendered the security footage of the halls outside the students rooms, showing clearly Mr. Krell going in and out of the student’s rooms multiple times, in the night; and as such I would like to call Mr. Krell to the witness stand.” 

They all look over at Krell, who doesn’t seem fazed. “You do not have to,” the prosecutor says, but Krell stands up anyway, rising to his full, towering height. 

“I’d be happy to alleviate the defence’s concerns,” the coach says, and is led to the witness stand. 

“Mr. Krell, I hope you have a good reason to have been going into the student’s rooms in the middle of the night,” Miss Kryze says to him, derision clear in her voice. Now that Krell has turned to face the room, Cody can see the smug unflinchingness on his face. 

“Of course I do,” he says, “Every night before the games I check to make sure the students are getting to bed on time, so that they’re rested and ready for the game the next day, as well as offer words of encouragement.” 

Cody bites back a snort. 

“You’d be surprised how many of them treat the playoffs like a fun little slumber party,” Krell finishes, and Satine nods slowly, but more like she is humouring him than she is actually agreeing. 

“Perhaps that would be more plausible,” she says, flipping something open in her binder, “if you were spending as little time in the girls’ rooms as the boys. The time between entering and exiting the rooms of the football players was, on average, only about a minute. However, the shortest recorded time you spent in the girls’ rooms was twenty minutes, and the longest nearly thirty-five.” She looks sharply up at Krell, who doesn’t seem as confident any more. “Not only do I doubt the cheerleaders require ‘words of encouragement’ from you, but I struggle to imagine it would take so much longer than your visits to the boys. What could you possibly have to talk so much about with teenage girls, Mr. Krell?” 

Krell shifts, looking off to the side. The prosecutor steps towards the witness stand. “I don’t have to answer that,” Krell says, turning his nose up at Miss Kryze, and she turns on her heel. 

“Forgive me, then, if I decide to draw my own conclusions from your non-answer.” She snaps her binder closed and turns back towards the judge. “Your honour, it is clear to everyone in this room that Mr. Krell is a danger to everyone he encounters, with a history of violence towards minors, all culminating in attacking and breaking the arm of Fives Fett. The actions of my client, Rex Fett, are entirely justifiable and legal, in his defence of his peers from this menace .” 

The judge looks at the prosecutor. “Does the prosecution have anything else to add to the record?”

“No, your honour,” the prosecutor nods. “I have said all I need to.”

The jury is dismissed to make a decision, and every minute that they wait in the courtroom mounts the tension higher. Murmurs rise up in the room as people turn to whisper to each other. 

“What do you think is going to happen?” Cody hears Ahsoka lean over and whisper. 

“Anyone with any sense will see that Rex is innocent,” Obi-Wan replies.  

Not more than a few minutes pass before the jury returns. Tense silence covers the courtroom like a weighted blanket as they wait for the verdict to be announced. Then: 

“Not guilty!” 

Cody slumps backwards in his seat with a heavy sigh of immense relief, and he sees Rex ahead of him similarly sag against the table while the family around them jumps up and yells in joy. Rex turns around, and through the crowd Cody can see the wet shine in his eyes and the wide smile he gives all of them. He’s told he’s free to go, and immediately rounds the divider to run right into the swarm of their family rushing to greet him. Cody stands and pushes his way through to grab his little brother in the tightest, biggest hug he can manage as Rex wraps his arms around his middle and doesn’t let go. They’re clogging the aisle, but they don’t care. 

Through the crowd, Cody sees Fox, still in uniform, approach a red-faced and incensed Krell. He puts his hand on the man’s shoulder, reaching for the cuffs on his belt. Through the clamouring crowd, Cody hears him say, “You’re coming with me.”

They clear out of the courtroom, shuffling out into the hall. Kenobi’s kids throw themselves into the fray, hanging off of Rex with gleeful, shrieking laughs. Rex pulls away from Cody to turn and grab the both of them, one in each arm and hold them crushingly close. 

He’s gonna be alright. They’re all gonna be alright. 

Cody looks over his shoulder to see Obi-Wan hovering a ways back from the group, a smile on his face. They make eye contact as Obi-Wan’s gaze sweeps over them, and Cody smiles. He waves him over, and Obi-Wan’s eyes widen, his smile slipping. Cody does it again, smiling bigger, and Obi-Wan lets himself be reeled in, drawn into the rippling, cheering group. Obi-Wan audibly yelps as he’s swarmed and absorbed into the crowd, pushed towards Cody’s side, and Cody laughs. 

It feels like a dream. The sun hits him as they all leave the courthouse, and Rex thinks he’ll trip on the next stair down if he doesn’t look where he’s putting his feet. He feels like any second he’s going to wake up and be back in that cell. 

But he’s awake. Anakin slings his arm over his shoulders with a grin, bumping into him, and Rex feels light and happy with his family on all sides of him-- he didn’t realize how much he needs to be with people before he was just cut off from everyone for two weeks. But now he’s free again, and he can unpause his life, get caught up on school-- shit, he never thought he’d be excited to do homework before.

Anakin starts trying to skip steps on their way down with his long ass legs, throwing them all off balance, and Rex puts his arm behind his neck and yanks him down in retaliation. Ahsoka pokes him, and Rex laughs. 

“Hey!” A voice calls out from further up the steps behind them, and Rex turns with the group to see Key and Keasha coming out of the building together, towards them. “Hey, wait up!” Key repeats, dashing ahead down the steps towards Rex, a huge smile on his face. Rex plants his feet as Key picks up speed, getting steady just in time for the cheerleader to practically slam into him, knocking him backwards into Waxer who gets knocked back into Wolffe who gets knocked back into their dad, who catches the whole train of dominoing Fetts with a grunt.

As they’re stabilized again, Key reaches up and pats Rex’s head. “Your hair is so fuzzy!” 

Rex sighs. “I need to shave it back down again,” he says, and looks over at Keasha who has caught up with them walking at a normal speed. “Hey, Keasha, how are you feeling?” He asks. 

“Rattled,” she gives a weary smile. “Happy for you. Krell is getting arrested again, which is great.” 

“Wait, really?” 

They all look back towards the doors of the courthouse in time to see Krell being led outside in cuffs, absolutely fuming. Fox marches him down the steps past them towards a cop car, and he glares at all of them as they go past. No one says anything, until they pass and someone behind Rex makes a fart noise. That triggers the snorts and giggles, until they’re all cheering as he’s put into the car. Krell gives them all a withering glare over his shoulder before the door closes and he’s out of sight, and they all clap and cheer as the car pulls away from the curb. 

“I’m a prison abolitionist, but…” Rex says, “that is nice to see.” 

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan says. Behind them, someone clears their throat. 

Satine smiles at them, and Obi-Wan stays still as their eyes lock and the eye contact holds for a few seconds longer than he really thinks it should. “Words can’t express how happy I am for all of you,” she says. “We did it!” She cheers.

“Yeah,” Rex says, seeming a little dazed, and Satine pulls out her phone. 

“How about a picture, to commemorate?” She says, and they all nod and make noises of assent. Satine flips the camera and turns to take the selfie, lifting her phone up high, and they all squeeze into the frame. She takes three pictures in quick succession before lowering her phone, and the group loosens up again as she looks down at the photos with a pleased expression. Obi-Wan watches her with a careful eye. She puts her phone away. 

“Well, it was very nice to meet you all,” she says. “And I wish you all the best in life.” 

“Yeah, same to you,” Cody says evenly, and even though their little crowd has dispersed somewhat, Obi-Wan remains closer to his side than is strictly necessary, practically shoulder to shoulder. Cody doesn’t move away, however, and Satine glances quickly between them. Obi-Wan resists the urge to press even closer. 

Satine turns to Rex. “Congratulations on your freedom,” she says, “Be sure not to waste it.” 

“Uh-- right. Yeah.” Rex blinks. “Have a safe trip back to New York,” he says with a short wave, and Satine nods. 

“Thank you,” she says. “Goodbye, everyone.” Then she walks away down the steps, tossing over her shoulder one last lingering look that Obi-Wan does not return. They watch her go, down the street to a parked car. 

“Well!” Jango turns to the rest of them as soon as she’s out of sight. “What does everyone think about a buffet lunch?”

“Yes,” Rex exalts, and the group continue down the stairs. Obi-Wan lingers behind, and Cody notices, stopping short and coming up next to him as the rest continue on. 

He leans in and asks, “are you coming?”

Obi-Wan blinks. “I don’t want to intrude,” he says, but his heart is not in it and it shows. Cody’s face softens fractionally, and he tilts his head at him. 

“You know you’re not,” Cody’s mouth twitches up into a smile. “Come on.” 

Then he draws Obi-Wan forward with a tap on the back of his shoulder, and they start walking a ways behind the group. Cody leans in a little further and mutters, “We’re going to have to talk about it eventually, you know.” 

Obi-Wan wishes he could pretend like he doesn’t know what Cody means— the kiss, and the aftermath. But the memory is seared too deeply into the forefront of his mind to even try and fool himself, let alone the fact he could never fool Cody. 

“I suppose we will…” he hesitates, and gives a sort of sheepish smile that might be more of a grimace. “I guess it was too much to hope that we could just… put all that behind us and move on as normal, wasn't it?”

Cody stops walking again, and so does Obi-Wan, as if they’re attached by a short string. Cody gives him a look that makes Obi-Wan want to squirm, like he’s just looking straight through every wall Obi-Wan has ever put up. 

“I have a feeling that’s not what you really want,” Cody eventually says slowly, and Obi-Wan gulps. 

“And it’s not what you want, either.” 

Cody makes a gesture that’s not really a nod or a shake of his head. “Right,” he says, and looks as if he’s about to say more, when they’re interrupted by a voice yelling at them from further up the street. 

“Do you two slow pokes want lunch or not!” Boil shouts to them, laughing, and Obi-Wan and Cody share a look before catching up. 

Later that evening, Anakin sits back on the couch, his head leaning back against the back of the cushion, looking up at the ceiling. Threepio is curled up on the couch cushion next to him even though he’s not supposed to be on the furniture, the old dog’s head laid out in his lap as Anakin absently scratches behind his ears. He’s getting drool on his pants, but that’s alright. He loves him. 

He feels weird, like he’s been filled up with TV static. The excitement and pure unbridled joy of earlier today has worn off, leaving space for all the badness to just come back. And he is happy that Rex is out, he is , but he can’t seem to hold on to it before it starts to slip away again. 

He still feels like nothing is getting better. 

Now he almost feels even more out of place, while everyone is celebrating and he just still feels as miserable as ever, and he should be celebrating too, but he’s too tired. 

Threepio snuffles and nudges his hand with his nose, and Anakin sighs and pets his head. It doesn't help that Padme has seemed more distant lately… well, not distant, but it’s taking her longer to respond to his texts, and when she does it seems half-hearted. She says she’s busy with school… he doesn’t know. It’s probably nothing, but every little thing just keeps piling up until… 

Ahsoka is doing homework, begrudgingly, at the kitchen table on Obi-Wan’s laptop, and Obi-Wan himself is moving around in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher and tidying up. Anakin tilts his head forward, less moving it on purpose and more letting its own weight carry it down so he’s looking down at the dog. It’s warm in the apartment. He hears Ahsoka close the laptop, and she passes behind the couch on her way into her room, closing the door behind her. Anakin looks over at the closed door, then back down at the floor, then over to Obi-Wan still in the kitchen, then the floor again. 

“Hey, uh, Obi-Wan?” He calls, and he hears the clinking of Obi-Wan organizing the cutlery pause. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Without wasting even a second Obi-Wan comes over into the living room, perching on the edge of the couch on the end opposite from Anakin, angled towards him and looking at him intently. He may as well have teleported over here, and it makes Anakin smile a little before it slips again. 

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan says. “What is it?” 

“Well…” Anakin hesitates-- he hadn’t really thought this far, and he doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t know how to say it. “I, uh, well, it’s…” 

“It’s alright, dear one,” Obi-Wan says. “You can take your time.” 

“Okay…” He gives Threepio some more ear scratches, and the dog closes his eyes happily. “Well it’s, like… I mean, it’s pretty obvious I’ve… been having some problems this year.” 

“Yes,” 

“Well it’s because, uh, it’s because of a couple of things,” Anakin says. “It… it started when I was having, uh, nightmares about my mom, like, dying in really bad violent ways? And then I talked to, uh, Palpatine about it, and he told me I should try and find her again, so… and I thought that was a good idea, but he said not to talk to you about it…” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Obi-Wan nod, a frown forming on his face, and Anakin’s heartbeat speeds up. “I see…” Obi-Wan says. “Anakin, I hate to say this, but that last bit is rather alarming.” 

“Yeah,” Anakin snorts derisively, “You’d think.” His mouth pinches in a sour look. “Well, basically… that was in the fall, and, well I’ve been looking for her since then… that’s why I was falling behind in school.”

“Oh…” Obi-Wan covers his mouth, his eyes widening. “Oh, Anakin, I had no idea…” He whispers.

“I thought--” Anakin’s voice catches around the lump forming in his throat, and his eyes start to water. “I never told you about it, because… I thought you wouldn’t understand. I thought-- I thought you’d try to stop me and, and you wouldn’t understand. And when Qui-Gon found me he said he was going to, to help me find my mom and we would-- but then he died and you never…” 

He curls over Threepio, hunching his shoulders as the burning behind his eyes gets sharper, and he hears Obi-Wan let out a long breath next to him. “And, I assume your efforts have… not been successful?” He asks tentatively, and Anakin shakes his head. 

“I’m so sorry,” Obi-Wan says, “Ani…”

“Why didn’t you ever try to find my mom?” Anakin asks quietly. “I…” 

Obi-Wan sighs deeply. “Can I be perfectly honest?” He says, and Anakin nods, his stomach knotting. “I… well, when Qui-Gon died… truth be told he barely said anything to me, and we hadn’t spoken for a long time before that. He didn’t mention your mother, and since you referred to her in the past tense whenever you spoke of her, I had-- assumed she had died.” 

Anakin looks up at him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “Huh?” Obi-Wan looks very embarrassed. 

“I”m sorry, I should have looked into it, or asked you about it more but… I had been under the impression she’d died, this whole time, I had no idea she was still out there somewhere.” 

“Oh.” Anakin fidgets. “That, uh, yeah, I guess that adds up. So, then… if I did find my mom again, or tried to, then… you wouldn’t be mad?”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan breathes. “I would never try to keep you from your mother, Anakin, I completely understand why you would want to be reunited with her.” He reaches a hand out and gently touches Anakin’s shoulder, and Anakin’s throat tightens, his skin crawling at the contact as he reminds himself that it’s okay, it’s just Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan is safe and it’s okay. “And besides, even if I didn’t understand, I would still do my best to help you in anything, because I want you to succeed and be happy .” 

The next breath Anakin draws is a shaky, wet one. “So-- so you’ll, help me look for her?” 

“Absolutely, yes,” Obi-Wan says. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you can lean on those who love you when you need you.” 

Anakin sniffles, and a tear slips down his cheek. He nods, and Obi-Wan does too, his own eyes looking a little watery. 

“That’s uhm, that’s not all.” He says, his voice hoarse, and his mouth feels dry.

“Yes?” Obi-Wan prompts, shifting closer to him on the couch. Anakin keeps petting Threepio, the repetitive motion and the warm fur, albeit a little coarse, under his hand helps keep him grounded.

“Uh, well, you mentioned that, that Palpatine telling me not to talk to you about stuff is, uh, alarming, and, well, he… he says stuff like that a lot. Like, he, he convinced me that he was the only person I could really trust and no one else really gets me or cares about me and… and me becoming, like, separated from everyone, from you and from all my friends, that-- he did that, on purpose.” 

Obi-Wan frowns deeply, then. “Anakin--” He starts, and Anakin shakes his head. 

“I-- I know,” he whispers. “Remember when, uh, that time a little while ago, I skipped fencing practise the first time, and we had that fight? And I said I hoped you would get hit by a car and die?”

Obi-Wan blinks. “You didn’t say that,” he says, and Anakin grimaces. 

“Oh. Well, I guess I just thought it.” 

“I see,” Obi-Wan seems to find some humour in that. “Well, I’ve already been hit by a car once, and I didn’t die, so--” 

“What --” Anakin gapes at him. “When did you get hit by a car!” 

“I’ll tell you about it later, it’s really not relevant right now--” Obi-Wan deflects, and Anakin groans.

“Oh my god,” he looks up at the ceiling. “Come on, man, you can’t just keep dropping hints of lore and then not following up on it!” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan scolds him mildly, still a hint of a smile on his face. “Please, focus, this is quite serious. You were talking about when you first started skipping fencing?” 

“Yeah,” Anakin sighs. His heart starts to race again as he thinks about what he’s about to say, what he has to admit. He feels sweat start to prick uncomfortably on his forehead, and the tears in his eyes intensify. “Uh…” He chokes, and Obi-Wan rubs his shoulder, this time the touch is actually comforting. 

“It’s alright, love,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Take as much time as you need.” 

Anakin nods jerkily. “I started skipping fencing because-- because Palpatine was there,” he croaks out, voice quiet and small. “Because he-- because--” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, and he sounds-- well, Anakin would say he sounds scared , but that’s-- impossible. He can’t imagine Obi-Wan ever being scared . “Because he what?” 

“I-- he--” Anakin whimpers, “can’t you just, guess? I don’t-- I don’t want to say it…” he whimpers, and next to him, Obi-Wan stiffens, going so completely still it’s almost like he’d been frozen in stone. 

“Oh, god,” he says, quiet enough Anakin nearly doesn’t hear it. “He--”

“I got away before he could, like, actually do anything,” Anakin shivers. “But he almost-- he tried to-- I-- Obi-Wan I was so scared ,” he pushes the words out in front of a choked sob, and that’s when he finally breaks, the tears just flooding down his cheeks as he gasps and sobs, and immediately Obi-Wan pulls him forward and hugs him so tight he feels like he’ll crush his bones, but Anakin just grabs fistfuls of Obi-Wan’s sweater and clings even tighter. Threepio moves his head from off Anakin’s leg, perking up a little and pushing his nose against his side with a whine. 

He’s not sure if it’s just him or if Obi-Wan is shaking too, but they just sit there as Anakin cries and Obi-Wan holds him. 

“We-- we’re going to do something about this,” He hears Obi-Wan say from over his shoulder, not letting go even a little bit. “We’re going to make it alright. I promise.” 

He sounds choked up, his voice thick and trembling just the barest amount with what Anakin can only interpret as a quiet, seething rage, and he wonders if part of the reason Obi-Wan isn’t letting go of him is so that Anakin won’t see him cry.

Chapter Text

“...and I just, I just don’t know what to do, I don’t know what we can do--” 

“Obi-Wan, slow down. What’s going on?” 

“It’s… I don’t know if I can talk about this over the phone… I thought maybe sleeping on it would help but things just seem worse now...” 

“Come over, then, and we’ll talk about it here.”

Obi-Wan rubs his temples as he knocks on the door, regret already seeping through his conscious. He shouldn’t have come here, but, well, it’s too late to change his mind now. The hotel door opens, and Satine peers out, her hair down.

“Obi-Wan,” she says in greeting, her voice concerned. “Come in, what’s the matter?”

She waves him in and he goes into the hotel room, looking around as she closes the door behind him. The curtains are partially closed, the morning sunlight streaming in through the substantial gap and lighting up the room. Satine’s suitcase is open on the bed and nearly all packed, just a few stray things left laying around the room. Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Satine looks at him curiously. “Obi-Wan?” 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan blinks, standing stiffly in the middle of the room. “Well, you see, it’s…” 

He explains the situation in as vague terms as possible, leaving Anakin’s name out of it. The principal has been grooming at least one student, possibly more, for sexual exploitation-- and what the hell can he do about it? That’s all he needs to ask. He twists his hands in his sleeves as Satine looks at him in shock, slowly backing up to lean back against the dresser. 

“I-- wow,” she breathes. 

“He’d also been actively protecting Krell from any backlash or consequences for his actions, as well… I think it’s because he knows he can’t afford to foster an environment in which students feel safe advocating openly for themselves against inappropriate staff.” 

“I see…” Satine nods slowly, and Obi-Wan sighs. 

“I’m sorry, I know we’re not exactly on good terms, but I just… needed to ask you if we even have any options. You practise criminal law, what can we do about this?”

Satine gets a stony, somber expression on her face. “Well, the first thing you should do is contact the police, as one would when the law is being broken.” 

Obi-Wan can’t resist a sardonic look. “I have little faith in law enforcement,” he says, and Satine narrows her eyes at him-- what they don’t need right now is a resurgence of a frequent argument between them from nearly a decade ago.

“You really haven’t changed,” Satine says. “Well then, I’m going to take a page from your book and be a realist -- you can expect zero legal justice.” She brushes past him, continuing to put things away in her suitcase. Obi-Wan’s eyes follow her, wide and simmering with the beginnings of anger. 

“What do you--” 

“If you don’t want to cooperate with the legal channels then you will get nothing from them,” Satine says with her back turned. “You ought to put your pride aside and go to the police like you’re supposed to.” 

“It is not a matter of pride --” Obi-Wan snaps, “If you’re going to try being realistic then why don’t you take a minute to think on the deep corruption of the police system that also protects predators like Palpatine and Krell. Nothing will be done!”

Satine huffs and turns to face him, a hard set to her posture. “Clearly, you don’t actually want to get out of your echo chamber and listen to what I have to say. To me, it sounds like you’ve already given up.” 

Obi-Wan’s jaw drops as he glares at her. “That’s not true at all! I had hoped you would be able to tell me something useful , as if ‘calling the police’ hadn’t already occurred to me? I’m not an idiot , contrary to what you may believe.” 

“Well how about this, then,” Satine says venomously, “To be perfectly frank, without hard evidence it's unlikely Palpatine would be convicted in court anyway, what with the resources at his disposal. Even then, it would be difficult. When it’s one person’s word against another’s, the one with most authority is the one people will be more inclined to believe.” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, “I know all that already. That’s why I came to ask for your help.” 

“And what do you want me to do, exactly?” Satine gives him an exasperated look. “Wave a magic wand to teleport him into prison? My work is hard . You didn’t come here for my help, you came for an easy solution . Well I’m sorry, but if you want anything to be done about this you’re going to have to do the work yourself.”

Obi-Wan scoffs derisively. “So that’s it, then,” he crosses his arms, “you’re just going to leave?” 

“ Yes , I’m leaving,” Satine says like he just said something stupid. “I’ve already been away longer than expected, I have to get back to New York, that’s where my life and my career is! I have to get back to my-- back to our son. I can only do so much charity at once--”

“ Charity !” Obi-Wan’s eyes practically bug out of his head. “Is that what you think of us! Charity! Like you’re some benevolent saint descending down from the celestial land of new york focking city to oh so kindly bless us poors with your expensive degree !”

“How dare you say that to me!” Satine hisses at him. “What’s gotten into you, who is us ? Of course I don’t see you as just charity !” 

“But that is how you see my friends,” Obi-Wan says, the cross of his arms tightening. “You know what? Fine. I will do this myself. Go back to New York forever if you want to, I don’t care.” 

Satine’s eyes widen, a hurt look forming on her face. “Obi…” 

Obi-Wan turns and storms out the door, leaving Satine in the hotel room. She doesn’t try to follow him. 

Anakin sits on the couch, picking at a hole in his jeans and biting his nails. Next to him, Obi-Wan sighs as he finishes summarizing their limited options. “I know it sounds discouraging, but…”

“Discouraging is kind of an understatement there, Obi-Wan,” Anakin’s mouth pinches tightly, and Obi-Wan nods.

“I know, I know…” His guardian says, and Anakin huffs, rocking in place once and brushing away his bangs.

“So if we can’t send his ass to prison then what can we do?”

“Plenty,” Obi-Wan says, and Anakin sure hopes he isn’t overshooting to try and make him feel better. “We can still remove him from a position of power, a position where he has access to children, teens, we can ruin his reputation—“ 

Anakin’s brow furrows. “So you’re saying we could get him— what, fired? How does someone even get a principal fired?” 

Obi-Wan leans in almost conspiratorially, a sort of glint appearing in his eye. “By going over his head.” 

Cody finds Obi-Wan where he expected to at the end of the day, packing up in his classroom. He doesn’t want to push him, doesn’t want to seem impatient, but there’s an itch just under his skin that is getting harder and harder to ignore the longer they go without properly communicating. He doesn’t like to waste time. He knocks twice on the doorframe, and Obi-Wan looks up from where he’s shoving papers into his messenger bag, his face betraying nothing when he sees him except for a minute widening of his eyes that Cody’s brain zeroes in on like a hawk.

“Hello, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, “how are you?” 

“I’m alright,” Cody shrugs. “You?” 

“Well, it’s here and there,” Obi-Wan non-answers as he tends to. He seems to be in a hurry. Cody steps further into the room. 

“So, about that talk…” 

Obi-Wan visibly tightens his grip on his bag, not quite meeting Cody’s eyes with a pinched look on his face. “Cody, look, I am sorry but something has happened and now I really can’t think about— about any of this.” He says, the words all coming out in a rush, but sounding somewhat rehearsed. “I just don’t have time, I don’t have the energy to spare… but after, after this is done, I promise we will talk, for real. I swear to you I’m not just avoiding this or you because I am scared of it— I mean, I am but that’s not the reason.” 

Cody sighs. “Obi wan…”

Obi-Wan pauses packing, putting his bag down on the chair. “Cody, I’m sorry if this is difficult to answer, but… do you trust me?” 

“Yes, of course I do. Why would that be difficult to answer?” Cody looks at him, and Obi-Wan shakes his head. 

“Well, it— nevermind, what I mean to say is, then… trust me when I say I’m not running from you. I’m just asking you to wait a little longer. If you can’t or don’t want to that’s alright, that’s fine, but I can’t do it now.” 

Cody nods. “Alright. I trust you. I’ll wait.” He doesn’t really… want to, and as far as he knew the major troubles that have been keeping them all up at night have been largely put to rest. If something else has come up, then that makes him concerned, especially if it has Obi-Wan as obviously distracted as it does. 

“Thank you, so much.” 

Taking another step closer, feeling, maybe, a little bold. “Whatever it is that’s going on, is there anything I can do to help?” 

Obi-Wan’s mouth twists contritely, shaking his head again. “I’m sorry, it’s… it’s private, a family matter. I hope you—“

“I do understand.” Cody answers before Obi-Wan finishes his sentence, and Obi-Wan looks back up at him with a steady, searching gaze. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, then lifts his bag onto his shoulder and walks past Cody towards the door. As he passes their hands brush lightly against each other, and Cody turns to follow the slight touch as Obi-Wan walks out the door, watching him go.

All things considered, the superintendent’s office is actually pretty plain. A plain wooden desk with plain decorations in front of a plain window. Plain bookcases filled with plain books. Plain walls and plain carpet. Off against one wall are two plain chairs, one of which occupied by a journalist from the city newspaper Obi-Wan invited. Anakin can’t shake off his jitters. 

‘Jitters’ is too small a word for it. He feels like he’s going to throw his guts up onto the carpet. The superintendent looks at him and Obi-Wan both intently, searching and concerned. Anakin doesn’t want her to see him. He wishes he could have waited in the car, waited safe at home, put his head down while Obi-Wan takes care of this for him. But he already told himself no more hiding. No more running. If he wants any semblance of justice for what Palpatine did to him, if he wants to be able to sleep at night knowing Palpatine won’t be able to do this to anyone else, then he needs to be here, facing it. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice, Mrs. Ruiz,” Obi-Wan says as he and Anakin sit in the two seats in front of the superintendent’s desk. She clasps her hands in front of her, leaning forward. Obi-Wan sits properly in his chair, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his knee. Anakin falls back into a slouch, burying his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie. He looks at the floor. 

“Of course, Mr. Kenobi,” Mrs. Ruiz nods. “Mr. Palpatine has been employed by the school board for many years. If he’s done something improper, I’d very much like to hear about it.”

“Yes, thank you.” 

“So,” the superintendent clicks on something on her computer. “You mentioned in your email Mr. Palpatine has been acting inappropriately towards students? Could you elaborate on that, please?”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to speak, but Anakin cuts him off by clearing his throat. They both look at him. 

“I can… I can say it.” 

Obi-Wan just looks at him for a second, then nods slowly. “Alright, go ahead.” The superintendent puts her full intention on him, and Anakin shifts in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“So for me, uh,” Anakin starts, his voice quiet and hesitant. “It started when I met him in grade nine. I mean like, he seemed cool and friendly, and like, everyone trusted him, right? Everyone liked him. It always felt like he actually cared and paid attention to every student, but I could tell he paid extra attention to me. It started because of fencing… he would talk to me after practise, and give me advice and stuff and just… I don’t know.” He pulls on his sleeves. “He told me he wanted me to think of him as a friend, not just a principal. Over the years, he like… slowly convinced me I could trust only him. And no one noticed, even I didn’t see any of the red flags. Even now, I just look back and think, oh, that was actually really messed up that he said that.”

Beside him, Obi-Wan frowns, stroking his chin. The superintendent nods. “Can you give any examples of things he said to you that were alarming?” 

Anakin shrugs. “Like, I don’t know, like, he would say that like even if no one else understands me he understands me, and stuff like that… he would say that Obi-Wan-- because Obi-Wan is my guardian, right-- he would say that he’s distant, or cold, or that he doesn’t understand me...” 

Obi-Wan frowns harder. Mrs. Ruiz writes something down on a notepad. “And did anything else happen after that?” 

Anakin looks down. “Yeah. He, uh, well, he would always touch me a lot. Like put a hand on my shoulder or whatever whenever we talked. But a few months ago, he… he touched me on like, my back, and I didn’t like it and I told him to stop, and later in his office he told me it’s fine and normal, and… he…then he…” He chokes up, pulling one knee up to his chest, not caring that his shoe is on the chair. He shakes his head. 

The superintendent gives him a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to continue if you’re uncomfortable.”

Anakin chews the inside of his cheek and nods. 

“Did Mr. Palpatine… make sexual advances on you, at this time?” 

Nodding again, Anakin slouches further in his chair. “He tried to, yeah. I ran away before it could really… go anywhere.” 

“I see…” The superintendent frowns deeply. “This is very troubling. Do you know of any other students who were targeted by Mr. Palpatine like this?” 

Anakin shakes his head. “I don’t know anyone else, no…” Obi-Wan hums, but says nothing. 

“Hm… and then there’s the matter of the Mr. Krell case, thank god that’s been solved. You said that Mr. Palpatine was apparently aware of that situation? He never reported anything to the board.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says gravely. “And this, we do have record of. Another student was able to record her conversation with Palpatine about it.” He pulls out his phone and opens a video, passing it over the desk to the superintendent. The video is of mostly the floor of Palpatine’s office, occasionally a shaky flash of a pair of bright white sneakers. But the audio is clear— ‘I’m disappointed, Miss May, ’ Anakin can hear Palpatine say, and he frowns. ‘Our school’s reputation will take a serious blow because of this whole affair. I told you I’d take care of it.’

Then he hears Keasha’s response. ‘But you didn’t,’ she says, ‘it’s been a year and nothing changed.’ 

‘I said these things take time —‘ Palpatine’s voice is cut off by Mrs. Ruiz pausing the video. She hands the phone back to Obi-Wan. “I’d like you to also send me this video, please. This does not look good for Mr. Palpatine. Do you plan on going to the police about this?” 

Obi-Wan grimaces. “Unfortunately, aside from this video we have no actual evidence against him. Even if we did, and they did take the case seriously, it would be nearly impossible to prove in court.”

“Yes…” the superintendent says with a frown. “Still, I will bring this to the rest of the board, and relay everything you’ve told me. We’ll have to take a vote on whether or not to terminate Mr. Palpatine’s employment, and I would like to hope that the vote will be in your favour, however I’m afraid I can’t make any promises. Maybe if we get public pressure when the article is published, or maybe if there was more evidence or another person with similar accusations…”

Anakin deflates in his seat, and Obi-Wan nods grimly. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Ru—“

He’s cut off by the door to the office slamming open, and everyone in the room jumps and looks at the door. Standing holding the door open is a tall, stone faced man with messy, spiky black hair and a yellow track suit. He says nothing, just looks at all of them with a hard gaze. 

“Excuse me,” the superintendent says cautiously. “Can I… help you?” 

The man still does not speak, just steps aside still holding the door open, and in comes another, shorter man that had been concealed behind him. He has a crutch held in each hand, and both his legs are encased in clunky skeletal braces strapped over his pants from thigh to ankle. His hair is also all in crusty, solid spikes, and he wears a leather jacket covered in studs and chains and patches. His face and ears are full of piercings. Every visible inch of his skin is covered in tattoos, including his face. 

Obi-Wan almost doesn’t recognize him, until he opens his mouth and speaks. The smooth, almost melodic cadence of the newcomer’s voice is unmistakable . Obi-Wan’s jaw drops. 

“No, I don’t think you can help me,” Maul’s voice drips with venom. “However, I do believe you are currently discussing a dear old friend of mine…”

Chapter Text

“Pardon me?” The superintendent blinks, and Maul clack-click-clacks closer to stand between Obi-Wan and Anakin’s chairs, filling the room with his intense aura. Obi-Wan stares up at him in shock, and Maul casts but a fleeting, cold glance down at him. Guilt gnaws at Obi-Wan as he’s flooded with memories of the past.

Then

Obi-Wan breathed heavily as he pulled off his helmet, giving his sparring partner a sharp salute that they returned. Still catching his breath, he tucked his helmet under his arm and adjusted his glasses that had gone askew. He could feel his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, and shook his head against the uncomfortable feeling. He and the other student shook hands, and a shadow appeared at his shoulder. Obi-Wan looked over to see Mr. Palpatine, the teacher in charge of fencing club, giving him a thin, unpleasant smile. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if Palpatine realized he always found his expressions off-putting, like a wax statue. Still, he gave the teacher a respectful nod in return. 

“You’re improving quickly, Obi-Wan,” the teacher said kindly. “That was a well earned win.” 

“Thank you sir,” Obi-Wan said, though the words had a bitter aftertaste. Sure, Obi-Wan was getting better, and there’s always room for improvement, but he had always been good. He’d been in this club for four years already, and he was in the advanced categories in all his tournaments, fencing and winning against adults who had been doing this sport much longer. No, that was all well and fine, it just hadn’t mattered to Palpatine until now, because until now, Obi-Wan wasn’t the best.

After Obi-Wan beat him in a duel three weeks ago, Maul hadn’t come to practice once-- hadn’t come to school at all-- finally giving Obi-Wan a chance at the fencing club spotlight. 

He’d found he didn’t like it as much as he thought he would. Even now, Palpatine didn’t pay nearly half the attention to him as he did Maul, for reasons Obi-Wan couldn’t explain. He wasn’t sure what he would prefer. He wasn’t sure what it would take to really earn the teacher’s approval in earnest. 

Just as he was setting his helmet down and grabbing his water bottle, as if summoned by his thoughts, the gym doors slammed open, and everyone inside jumped, twisting their heads to look. In stormed Maul, practically glowing red in the face with anger. His pupils were blown wide, and he was covered in a bright sheen of sweat. He roared, marching towards Obi-Wan, who stood up sharply and took a step back. The junior had his sabre in hand, in none of his other fencing gear, just ripped jeans and a thin t-shirt clinging to him with sweat. 

“KENOBI!” Maul roared, grabbing a helmet out of the hands of a random student unlucky enough to be close to his warpath. 

“What on earth--” Palpatine moved to step in between them, but quickly had to jump out of the way before he was trampled by the furious student.

“You think you’re so great, Kenobi,” Maul snarled, stalking closer. Obi-Wan took another step back, his eyes wide. Maul had always been so quiet, if rough around the edges, but now he raged like a forest fire. “Face me!” 

Despite his nerves, Obi-Wan snickered. “‘Face me’? What, are we going to battle to the death?”

The humour was lost on Maul. He snatched Obi-Wan’s helmet from the bench and practically threw it into his chest, giving Obi-Wan no choice but to grab it or be knocked over. 

“Face. Me.” Maul stormed onto the piste, and Obi-Wan did follow. Again, Palpatine tried to step in between them. 

“This is highly irregular!” 

Obi-Wan stepped around the teacher. “Well, if you’re so eager to be beaten again...” he cajoled, and Maul’s fury only intensified. “Then, happily.”

The other students let out low ‘ooh’s as the two pulled their helmets on and got into position. Obi-Wan saluted with his favoured flourish. Maul’s sabre snapped through the air like a crack of lightning, and then he was on. 

Maul advanced just a second too early and descended upon Obi-Wan with the fury and speed of true biblical vengeance. Obi-Wan held his ground, refusing to be bullied off the piste by this demon, meeting every one of Maul’s attacks with the clash of his own blade. He gasped and grunted with the effort of matching the onslaught, sweat running hot down his back. The other students tittered and hollered from the thrill of it all as Obi-Wan and Maul’s blades swirled and swung through the air faster than their eyes could track. 

The side of Maul’s sabre swatted his shoulder hard enough to sting even through his jacket, and that was a point but neither boy stopped, as Obi-Wan realized this was not about anything as trivial as points. No, this was much bigger than that. Obi-Wan lunged and thrust the tip of his blade hard against Maul’s chest, heedless of the other’s lack of protection-- this was what Maul wanted, after all. The other fencer growled and advanced on him again, unstoppable as a hurricane, but Obi-Wan was already skittering away out of reach, laughing. He’d never felt so exhilarated. The sound only incensed Maul. Maul’s sword slashed at Obi-Wan’s neck, separated from his flesh only by the fabric of the helmet. They were breaking so many rules, the other kids were roaring, Mr. Palpatine was calling halt but no one listened. 

Obi-Wan’s heart was thundering in his ears, outmatched only by Maul’s howls of rage. He pressed in close but Obi-Wan held fast, ducking right in to match Maul’s fervour. Their blades scraped against each other with a shrill screech of metal as they both pushed. They started breaking form, gripping their sabres with two hands and forgetting their footwork. 

This was dangerous. They could both be expelled from the club, could be suspended or even expelled from the school. Maul slashed at Obi-Wan’s arm and Obi-Wan blocked the blow, forcing his blade away in a wide arc, the tips of their swords bouncing off the lacquered gym floor with a reverberating clang. Obi-Wan feinted and Maul followed through. Obi-Wan snapped his sabre across Maul’s torso and Maul snarled, whipping his blade against the mesh of Obi-Wan’s mask with a vicious crack. Obi-Wan startled back, flinching reflexively even though his face was protected by the helmet. Maul advanced again but Obi-Wan’s blade was just in the way, held fast in front of him and the tip dug hard into Maul’s gut, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Obi-Wan got his bearings right as Maul growled and knocked Obi-Wan’s blade aside hard enough to force him to drop it. It clattered loudly to the floor, the sound drowning out the spectators’ shocked gasps, and Maul lunged. Obi-Wan yelped and grabbed Maul’s sabre in his hands, pushing the other boy away. Maul threw his own sword to the side and ripped off his helmet. 

His eyes were wild and bloodshot, and sweat was pouring in rivers down his face, almost giving the illusion of tears. His hands were shaking. Obi-Wan’s chest heaved as he panted, pulling off his own helmet and watching Maul cautiously. 

Maul roared, throwing himself at Obi-Wan and knocking him to the ground, Obi-Wan’s head meeting the gym floor with a dizzying crack . Screams and shouts erupted throughout the gym as Maul drew his fist back and aimed a punch right at Obi-Wan’s jaw. Even as his vision swam and mind went blank, Obi-Wan’s body at least was able to remember the self-defence Qui-Gon took great care to teach him, and he brought his arms up to block just in time. Maul tried to hit him again, grabbing at the collar of Obi-Wan’s fencing jacket to slam him back into the floor. Obi-Wan grabbed the other boy’s bony wrist and twisted his hold out, throwing back a punch of his own-- Obi-Wan didn’t like to fight, but he wasn’t going to just lie there and let someone beat the tar out of him without putting up a challenge. He was still seeing double and only socked Maul in the shoulder, and Maul elbowed Obi-Wan’s arm aside and punched him right in the nose.

Obi-Wan cried out, feeling the pain radiate all across his entire face, something hot and wet pouring down over his lips. He swung his fist again and clocked Maul across the jaw, and thrashed until he was able to get his legs under him and throw Maul off. Maul stayed where he landed, struggling to get up on shaking limbs. Obi-Wan’s head, face and hand throbbed atrociously, and he gasped for air as the taste of iron flooded his mouth. He turned over into a propped-up kneel to stare at Maul in shock. There was blood dripping from a cut on Maul’s lip and smeared on his chin. Drops of bright red appeared on the scuffed up floor between Obi-Wan’s hands, and he brought shaking fingers to his face. He came away with a palmful of the vibrant, nauseating colour. Blood was pouring from his nose, down his face like a waterfall, smeared all down his neck and staining the collar and front of his crisp white fencing jacket.

The gym doors flew open and in stormed Principal Valorum, tailed by a few more teachers. “What is the meaning of this!” The Principal yelled. Maul hissed and lurched to his feet, running unsteadily away from Obi-Wan, Mr. Palpatine and the mob of students, out the side door and away into the sunny afternoon. 

Someone reached out to help Obi-Wan stand. He looked around at all the people staring, closed his eyes, and hung his head. 

Now

No one saw Maul again after that. A few months later, word spread around that the young man had been arrested for possession and armed robbery. As far as Obi-Wan knew, Maul had been in jail since, and he could honestly say that he hadn’t thought about his old rival in years. He's never liked to remember that day, or that fight. It's one of his most shameful memories.

Obi-Wan quickly vacates his chair, gesturing silently to it to offer for Maul to sit down. He does, returning Obi-Wan’s shocked, searching gaze with his own burning ice. Mrs. Ruiz is still looking at Maul with puzzled eyes. 

“My name is Maul Auprès,” he begins, voice low and smooth as shimmering black silk, “the boy here is far from the first to be targeted by Palpatine for the man’s own sick gratification… he used me, too, years ago, and when I could no longer satisfy him, he ruined my life.”

“I- I’m sorry,” the superintendent stumbles over her words, adjusting her glasses. She glances at Obi-Wan, who stands restlessly with his arms crossed next to the chair. “Did you invite this man here?”

“I needed no invitation to know where I must be,” Maul hisses. “I have my own sources.”

In the corner, the journalist is furiously typing away on a tablet.

Indeed, Maul needs no invitation. He tells every gory detail of his past abuse at Palpatine’s hands, describing his manipulation in ways that correspond cleanly with Anakin’s testimony. There’s more, even-- when Maul talks about how Palpatine would provide him with drugs to control him and then withhold them as punishment when he did poorly, causing Maul to suffer bad withdrawals and miss school for days at a time, Obi-Wan shoots Anakin a wide-eyed look, but Anakin shakes his head. Either Palpatine decided such extreme tactics weren’t necessary with Anakin or he felt he couldn’t get away with something like that anymore. By the time Maul is done, Obi-Wan feels ill, Anakin’s face is pale, and even the superintendent looks a little green.

“That was… very illuminating, Mr. Auprès, thank you,” she says, coughing uncomfortably. She looks to Obi-Wan and Anakin. “I will be in contact as soon as the board reaches a decision. I will try to rush the meeting and vote as much as possible, but I can’t say when exactly there will be news.”

“Thank you again for seeing us today,” Obi-Wan reaches over the desk to shake her hand. Maul and his companion leave before them, walking down the hallway ahead of Obi-Wan and Anakin. They all reach the exit at the same time, and Maul stops just outside, leaning on his crutches. The other pats his shoulder and says in a quiet, gruff tone, “I’ll bring the car around.” He walks towards the handicapped parking spaces, and Maul sits on a nearby bench.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs to the boy, “are you alright going on ahead and starting up Artoo? I want to have a word…”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Anakin whispers back, his expression somewhat distant. He absentmindedly tosses his car keys up in the air as he walks off into the parking lot. Tentatively, Obi-Wan takes a seat next to Maul. The other man just glares off into the distance as Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“So… you’re looking well,” Obi-Wan ventures. Maul snorts. 

“Indeed. You look like shit.”

Obi-Wan chokes on his own spit a little, but he can’t help but chuckle before quickly sobering again. “Er… I’m… I’m sorry that all happened to you. I didn’t know…”

Maul sneers. “Keep your weak apology. Even if you had known, what do you suppose you should have done?”

Obi-Wan frowns. “I would have been a little nicer to you, for a start.”

A moment passes. Maul’s scowl pulls at the geometric tattoos on his face. “It would have been more insulting to be coddled by such a weakling as you were.”

“A weakling?” Obi-Wan’s brows raise dramatically. “I’m sorry, I must not have heard you right. You lost, remember?”

“Perhaps a rematch is in order.”

Obi-Wan looks at Maul’s full leg braces and crutches, thinks of his injured knee that he can’t even jog on for more than a few minutes without being in pain. He shakes his head with a sardonic laugh. “Yes, I’m sure that would go well. Why don’t we organise a bare-knuckles cage match while we’re at it?”

“I’d grind your bones to dust and your flesh to a pulp.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Obi-Wan gives a wry smile. “Still. I wouldn’t say either of us were ever weak.”

“I wasn’t weak,” Maul spits. “You were a weakling, and a crybaby.”

“A--!” Obi-Wan scoffs. “Excuse me! Of all the juvenile--”

“Should I break your nose again?”

“You never fully broke my nose in the first place, it was just a small fracture, I’ll have you know! And I was not crybaby!” Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose, flushing in embarrassment over getting riled up over such a silly insult.

Maul gives him a condescending look. “How else might you explain why I then witnessed you crying like an infant baby four separate times in the span of less than a year.”

Obi-Wan stares at him in disbelief. “Wh-- four?”

“Once after a biology exam,” Maul counts on his fingers, and Obi-Wan buries his face in his hands. “Once in the guidance counsellor’s office, once on the hallway floor in the morning before class, and once in the second-to-last stall in the basement bathroom.”

Well, that was specific. Never let it be said Maul didn’t have an impeccable memory. “If I was in the stall, then how did you know it was me crying?” Obi-Wan grumbles.

“I had heard you crying enough times at that point to be able to identify you by the sound alone.”

“Christ alive,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Alright, that’s fair, I’ll give you that. But still, of all the childish things to say… and besides, I’m not like that anymore.”

“You are.”

Obi-Wan glares indignantly. “What could possibly suggest that!”

“A few weeks ago, you were crying in the back of my uber.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen. “No. I, what? No…”

“I saw it was you and when you got in I turned around to say something like, thought you’d seen the last of me, Kenobi ? But, you were crying really hard and did not notice me driving. It was awkward.”

Obi-Wan groans in despair. The night things blew up with Cody… surely it wasn’t as bad as Maul describes, right? Surely… little gods, of all the terrible coincidences in the world to occur…

“This is awful,” Obi-Wan frowns as he stands up. “Congratulations on getting out of prison, genuinely, and I wish you all the best. I hope we never see each other again.”

Maul laughs. It’s a dark and mean sound, but his amusement seems real. “I will have my revenge one day soon, Kenobi.”

“What for?” Obi-Wan huffs. Maul’s escort comes around with the car, and Obi-Wan makes to leave, then turns around again. He opens his contacts on his phone and holds it out. “Actually, give me your phone number.”

Maul raises one shaved brow. 

“So I can contact you when the verdict on Palpatine is reached,” Obi-Wan explains. Maul looks dubious, but puts in his number nonetheless.

When Obi-Wan gets into the car, Anakin is giving him a judgy look from the passenger seat. “Did you just give that guy your number? Seriously Obi-Wan, time and place.”

Obi-Wan just rolls his eyes. “I just can’t with you sometimes, Anakin, really.” He puts Artoo in gear and they drive home.

Anakin gets permission from Obi-Wan to stay home from school for a while to rest and recalibrate. He doesn’t even nag Anakin about his schoolwork, but Anakin makes a point to keep up with it anyways. The break is a good breath of fresh air. Anakin sleeps in and plays video games, takes Threepio out on his walks because Obi-Wan insists walking is good for his mental health, watches youtube videos on the tv with Ahsoka and they commiserate together over cringy trends they’ve seen online, and he mostly tries not to think about the Everything of Everything when he’s left alone in the apartment during the day.

His friends come over and they all hang out. On the friday, the guys come over and they have a sleepover, Anakin and Rex and Jesse and Kix and Hardcase piled up on pilfered couch cushions a wheezy inflatable mattresses from Qui-Gon’s old camping gear in Anakin’s room. Ahsoka keeps sticking her head in to bother them, and they make so much noise that Obi-Wan decides the headache isn’t worth it and just straight up leaves.

“I know trying to get you to pipe down is a futile effort and I need a drink,” he says as he throws on his coat and pats his pockets. “I’ll see all you lads in the morning, please don’t burn the place down.”

Once the front door closes behind him, Jesse turns to Anakin and asks, “What are the odds on getting another extension on my paper?”

“Definitely in your favour,” Anakin says around a mouthful of barbecue chips. “He hasn’t even started grading them.”

“Jesse, that paper was due over a week ago,” Kix gives his cousin a withering look, and Jesse holds his hands up. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that! You heard Skywalker, Mr. Kenobi hasn’t even started grading them!”

Anakin just laughs. They don’t ask him why he’s been staying home from school, and he doesn’t tell them, either. He’s not sure he’ll ever tell them, but it feels good to know they don’t mind. It feels good to have friends again.

They still don’t ask when that article about the whole thing gets published in the local paper and the whole community goes into an uproar. His name isn’t anywhere in it, Obi-Wan made sure of that, but Anakin still has this queasy feeling that people will just know anyways. It had to have been obvious, right…? Then again, no one noticed when it was actually happening, so maybe it wasn’t. Apparently, students have been protesting outside Palpatine’s office whenever he’s in there and parents have been swarming the schoolboard demanding to know why such a man is still allowed to be around their children. Anakin is glad he doesn’t have to go back to school until it all blows over. He’s glad Obi-Wan understands. 

Two weeks later, they’re all squished together on the couch, dog and all, watching old HGTV and taking the piss out of the hosts more than they are actually watching the show. Anakin has Threepio’s head on his lap and is idly scratching behind the dog’s ears, Ahsoka has commandeered control of the remote and keeps pausing the episode to point out details she hates about the questionable interior design choices, and Obi-Wan is nursing a glass of wine and laughing wholeheartedly at every one of his kids’ sassy comments. 

The nice evening is interrupted by Obi-Wan’s cell buzzing where he’s left it charging on the kitchen counter. He quickly gets up with a quiet ‘ ope ’, silently waving the kids off when they go to pause the episode-- he probably saw this one when it first aired a decade or more ago, and it’s not like he’d miss much. Obi-Wan dashes over to the kitchen before the call times out, checking the caller ID and deciding in the moment to take the call out in the hallway-- it’s the superintendent. 

“Hello, you’ve reached Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he says as he answers, carefully shutting the unit door behind him with a quiet thunk-click . He ignores how Anakin and Ahsoka’s eyes were on him as he stepped out.

“Mr. Kenobi,” says Mrs. Ruiz on the other end of the line. She sounds tired, but not as grim as she had been during their meeting. Obi-Wan’s heart immediately starts racing. “I won’t keep you in suspense. The board has voted in favour of terminating Mr. Palpatine.”

Obi-Wan lets out a heavy breath, slumping back against the door. Mrs. Ruiz continues,

“The pressure from the parents and the community representative is what pushed it over, I believe… after the mess with Mr. Krell and the court case, the district’s reputation can’t take another big hit.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I’m relieved,” Obi-Wan says simply. Mrs. Ruiz hums in affirmation.

“With a stain like this on his record, it’s unlikely Mr. Palpatine will ever work in a school ever again. The meeting was pushed overtime and office hours are done for the day, so the official notice will be sent out first thing tomorrow morning, but I thought I would let you know right away.”

“That’s good. I appreciate it.” Obi-Wan strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Effective immediately, I presume?”

“Absolutely. We don’t have a replacement for the position lined up yet, but there are already some resumes waiting for me to look over. How is Anakin doing, is he well?”

“Well as he can be,” Obi-Wan sighs, “thank you for asking.” That was pretty much true. Obi-Wan has a feeling Anakin’s been mostly compartmentalizing, and he isn’t sure how the boy will react to the news of Palpatine being fired. In all likelihood they’ll never see him again, and if they do Obi-Wan will look into a restraining order, no hesitation. So far, since the meeting, he hasn’t been pressuring Anakin to talk more about what happened or what he’s feeling, despite it truly haunting Obi-Wan’s mind and keeping him up relentlessly at night. He feels sick with guilt for not noticing, for letting it go on as long as it did. He should have been more attentive, he should have protected Anakin better he should have…

Obi-Wan takes a deep, calming breath. They can't change the past. Self-flagellation and blame don’t help anyone. 

He’s suggested Anakin speak to a therapist. Anakin agreed, despite having vehemently hated therapy back when he was a child, and thanks to an expedited referral from Plo, he had an introductory appointment already booked for next week. Either his feelings on the matter had changed, or he was just going along with whatever Obi-Wan said to avoid ruffling feathers-- he had been eerily well-mannered lately. He sincerely hoped Anakin would soon grow bored of acquiescing to Obi-Wan’s every word without argument and go back to being a challenging little shit. Obi-Wan much prefers him when he’s being difficult over when he’s being obedient, as it turns out. 

“That’s good.” Obi-Wan can hear the superintendent’s smile. “I’ll let you get back to your evening now, Mr. Kenobi. You all take care.”

“Thank you, you as well,” Obi-Wan says, and ends the call. He takes a moment in the silence of the empty hallway to collect himself, re-steadying his breath and smoothing a hand over his hair. It’s done. Palpatine is gone. 

It doesn’t quite feel real.

Before going back inside, he scrolls through his contacts to the newest addition. He’ll pass on the message, and then he’ll have done what he owes. He presses the call button, and fiddles with the sleeve of his sweater while he waits for it to go through. The muffled, tinny ring from his phone speaker goes on just a little too long for comfort before it picks up.

“Yes?” Maul’s voice sounds strange over the phone, but just as low and smooth as it had been weeks before, as he remembers. 

“Palpatine has been fired,” Obi-Wan cuts right to the chase. “Effective immediately. They say he’ll likely never work in a school again.”

There’s a long pause, where the only sound Obi-Wan hears from the other end is the faint feedback of Maul’s breathing, quiet, even, measured. The sound makes the hair on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck and his arms all stand on end, despite sounding calm, he can somehow feel Maul’s seething from there. 

Glowing coals burn much hotter than roaring open flame, after all.

“It’s not enough,” Maul eventually growls. Obi-Wan frowns. He certainly agrees, but what more can be done? He says nothing, and Maul hisses. He hears a vague plastic-metal clacking in the background that suggests Maul is pacing. “He’ll find a way to do it again. He has to pay for what he’s done.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to respond and he doesn’t get the chance to think of anything, because Maul hangs up the phone not a second later. Obi-Wan lowers his phone, looking down at the screen as the call closes and goes back to the sparse contact page, a foreboding shiver running down his spine. He’s not sure what to make of that.

Anakin isn’t sure how to feel. He mostly feels numb. He wasn’t really expecting that. He’s not sure what he was expecting. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to be feeling.

Obi-Wan got the call thursday evening that Palpatine was fired. It was a weight off Anakin’s chest, but he still couldn’t help the anxious squeeze in his stomach, or the urge to keep looking over his shoulder. It’s like watching a horror movie that just ends without actually getting to see the monster go down, instead you’re just… told. When you don’t see it with your own eyes, it’s harder to believe. Harder to trust it’s the truth.

He’d written about the horror movie monster analogy in his new journal that Obi-Wan twisted his arm (read: suggested nicely and without pressure) into starting on the weekend. On monday morning he thought maybe he jinxed it, or spoke too soon, or manifested like those crystal ladies on tiktok were always talking about, because that was when they got the followup news:

Palpatine fucking died.

Apparently at some point over the weekend he was hit by a car while just crossing the street and died from his injuries in hospital. A hit-and-run, people were saying, an accident. No witnesses.

Obi-Wan acted really weird when they heard, like he knew something, but he whatever it was, he kept it to himself, and Anakin had no idea what was going through his guardian’s mind even on a normal day. 

“It’s just like… I don’t know,” Anakin says, rotating slightly side-to-side in the spinny chair in the therapist’s office, one knee pulled up to his chest, looking everywhere but at Dr. Ti. “Weird? I guess it hasn’t all really sunk in yet. I guess I mean, like…”

Dr. Ti seems nice. She’s the therapist Mr. Plo Koon hooked them up with. Her first name is apparently Shaak, not like the basketball player, though Anakin was startled when he met her by how tall she was. People usually aren’t taller than him, but she’s taller than him by a lot. She didn’t make him lie down on the couch or anything, or spend the whole time scribbling on a notepad, instead just looking right at him with an intense listening face. She didn’t ask him stupid questions, or make him draw pictures about what he was feeling or talk to him through a teddy bear like the therapist he had to talk to when he was a kid did. That guy got frustrated when Anakin only ever drew cool robots instead of his feelings. Anakin spent the first fifteen minutes talking about that guy, and how he didn’t really understand at the time what he wanted from him, because you can’t draw feelings, feelings don’t look like anything. And he likes robots. Then Dr. Ti got him talking about robots, and asked if he liked Transformers, so the next fifteen minutes were spent on that.

Anakin thought he was going to get poked and prodded into talking about the actual reason why he’s here, because they both obviously knew it wasn’t robots. He thought he was going to clam up and dig his heels in but somehow he went from talking about why the old cartoon Transformers were actually cooler than the movie ones, to talking about hearing that Palpatine got hit by a car, all by himself.

“I mean, he was a constant presence in my life for four years. He was always just… there . And even after the whole… uh, well… basically what happened is he tried to, uh… you know…” he trails off awkwardly, cringing. He glances at Dr. Ti out of the corner of his eye, but she just continues looking at him intently, motioning for him to go on. “Okay, well, he kind of, sorry, not kind of, he did, or he did try to, well, I guess molest me, basically. Tried to! I got away before he could actually, like… do anything…”

He chances a look at Dr. Ti again. She doesn’t outwardly react to the information, just nods slowly in understanding. Anakin picks at one of the rips in his jeans, letting out a huge, heavy breath. “Maybe that’s why I feel so weird, because nothing actually happened…”

“I’m not sure I agree,” Dr. Ti says, “He attempted to take advantage of you, he betrayed your trust. That’s not nothing.”

“I guess you’re right…” Anakin shrugs. “I know it’s not, like, a competition or anything, and my experience is valid and all that… if this happened to someone else obviously I wouldn’t blame them for being so messed up about it but I still kind of feel like… I should be able to just get over it. Like, I went completely off the deep end there for a while, and over what? Like, I know it was a big deal, but part of the reason why I held off on telling anyone what happened is because, you know… I was scared they wouldn’t think it was a big deal. Like I was overreacting.

But I mean… yeah, he did betray my trust, and it-- I was really hurt. I still am, I guess… like, not only was he someone that I trusted, I really respected him and looked up to him, and thinking about the fact that the whole time he was just… using me, uh, like, grooming me, I guess, and it was all a lie… it’s… it’s really depressing, you know? I know he was never really my friend, but I thought he was my friend, for a long time, and I guess I… I kind of… miss him? Or more like I miss the friend I thought I had. So, like, I’m angry, but I’m also kind of just… sad. Is that wrong?”

“Not at all,” Dr. Ti smiles. “It sounds like you were very close to him. It is not wrong to miss what you have lost. No matter how it ended, if the bond was real to you , then so is the loss of it.”

“I feel really stupid,” Anakin mutters. “For letting him get in my head like he did. He made me shut out everyone but him, depend on no one, trust no one but him. Looking back on it, it’s almost crazy to me that I ever believed in the things he said and did… it all seems so obvious now.”

“They do say hindsight is twenty-twenty,” Dr. Ti hums, lacing her fingers together. “You mustn't blame yourself for what happened, Anakin. You are not stupid. You had no reason to doubt him, yes? There is a reason why people who seek power over others tend to target those who are young and inexperienced.”

“I guess…” Anakin starts chewing his nails. “I don’t know… and now he’s just, like… dead. Just randomly, in a freak accident. Except the timing of it doesn’t really feel like an accident. It’s like… one time, my girlfriend asked me if I believe in fate. And I guess maybe I do. That kind of seemed like a fate thing.”

“If you believe it to be a result of fate, do you think of it as bad fortune that befell him, or a turn of good fortune for you?”

Anakin pauses. “Huh. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it…” 

“That’s perfectly alright, Anakin. Why don’t you tell me a little more about your girlfriend? What’s her name?”

Anakin smiles despite himself, thinking of Padmé. Her semester is almost done, and as soon as she finishes her last exam she’ll be getting on a plane and coming home for the summer. That’ll be soon, really soon, before the last day of April, even. He’s excited. He takes a deep breath and starts talking again, more than willing to spend the rest of the session talking about Padmé.

At the deepest point of his downward spiral, a little while ago, Anakin had come to the realization that he missed feeling happy. He thinks he might be finally starting to get a bit of that feeling back.

Chapter Text

Rex had never in his life been so glad to wake up to the sound of his six am alarm every day to get up and get ready for school. There was an energy in his step that pissed all his brothers off as Cody dragged them all into the car to get to practise on time.

Cody is a good coach. He knows what he’s talking about, knows the sport well, even knows pretty much all their plays from watching the games. Even though the competitive season is over he still pushes the guys hard, doesn’t let them put forward anything but their best, but doesn’t demand more than any of them can actually give. He lets them take breaks to breathe and hydrate and stretch and actually tells them when they’re doing well, and when he’s giving feedback he actually tells them how to do something better rather than just berating them for doing something wrong . So even though the senioritis is hitting the senior players hard, including Rex, practise has still been going well. 

Everything has been going well, actually. Anakin will be back at school soon, and their group is as excited for his return as they had been for Rex’s. No one has said anything, and they won’t bring it up unless Anakin does, but Rex and the rest of their friends who actually know Anakin well enough had been able to put two and two together about why he was absent, what with all the uproar going on lately at the school. There’s an unspoken understanding for grace.

So yeah, aside from that whole capital S Situation, everything is fine. Everything is normal. Rex swears he’s never going to take normal for granted again. So if everything and everyone else is fine, then, Rex should be too, right? Except he kind of just feels… off. He feels weird and jumpy, and he can’t really stomach standing in line for food at the caf anymore because he starts feeling itchy, thinking he’s still in that scratchy orange jumpsuit. 

Rex leans against his open locker, scrolling back up through the messages from the night before in the group’s big groupchat with half a smile on his face. Hardcase had, via meme of course, informed them all about twelve hours ago that they want to go by They/She pronouns now. Most of them reacted with emojis or more memes, and then there had been some back-and forth, and then Jesse had said, 

‘Hold on we have ice cream I’m coming over and I’m bringing u it’

To which Kix replied,

‘Bro that’s my ice cream’

And then Jesse said,

‘What, you’re not willing to give up your regular ass storebought ice cream to your cousin who just came out? Do you even support women’s rights? Are you a feminist or not’

Which is when Rex jumped in with,

‘Idk if I would call what Kix does with women “feminist”’

Then Kix sent a shocked pickachu, and Hardcase went,

‘HDGSJFHSJFJSJFJSBFJSKFJF’

Rex is just considering asking the guys if they want to go across the street for lunch when he spots movement out of the corner of his eye, someone splitting off from the moving current of hungry students to come stand next to Rex’s locker. Someone with dark, wavy hair, wearing a too-big blue and white varsity jacket. 

“Hey,” Rex says, a smile already twitching to life on his face. 

Key smiles up at him. “Hi.” He holds up a large brown paper bag, a slight blush appearing on his olive cheeks. “My mom made an extra banh mi. Want one?” 

“Sure,” Rex says eagerly, shutting his locker and following Key towards the stairwell. As they walk down the hallway, he watches Key adjust Rex’s jacket on his own shoulders and puff up with pride. Rex shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, so they can walk close enough for their elbows to brush. His pulse quickens, and he looks around, but no one seems to be paying them much mind, only the usual nods of friendly acknowledgement from his peers and classmates.

They go outside, to a nice shady and grassy spot by the back field, under a tree. Key speaks up first, asking as he unrolls the crinkled top of the paper bag, “So, how are you doing, really? We haven’t really had a chance to talk much since you got back with all the craziness. Had to wait for the mob of your adoring fans to cool down to find an opening.”

“Yeah,” Rex wipes a tired hand down his face. The entire two first weeks he’s been back, about ninety percent of the conversations people have had with him had been to invite him to parties, or say they should hang out despite never having socialized outside of class before, or offering to give him their study notes for what he missed. It was exhausting. Just because he’s captain of the football team, doesn’t mean he wants to be the most popular guy in school that everyone is always hanging off of. It wasn’t this much before everything blew up with Krell. Rex just hopes it’ll calm down again by the time they actually graduate. 

“So?” Key hands him one of the saran-wrapped sandwiches, looking at him with wide, curious dark eyes. “Are you doing okay?”

Rex shrugs. “Yeah,” he says, but even to his own ears, he doesn’t sound very sure.

Key squints at him. “It’s okay to not be okay, you know,” he says. “You went through a lot. You are totally within your rights to need a bit of time to adjust.” He unwraps his own sandwich and takes a bite. He looks down at it and frowns.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Rex sighs. “It’s just… frustrating, I guess, I feel like I don’t have my head on straight. I just want to put it away and put it behind me, you know? I just want things to go back to how they were before everything started falling apart.”

He follows Key’s lead and starts eating the sandwich he gave him. It’s really good. “This is really good,” he says, taking another bite. 

“My mom makes them better,” Key mumbles. Rex shoots him a puzzled look. 

“I thought you said your mom made these?”

Key’s eyes widen, halfway through biting into his banh mi. “Shit.” He smacks a palm over his eyes, talking with his mouth full, “wow, I did not keep up that lie very long, huh? Yeah, no, uh. I made them, actually.” He swallows and hides his mouth, looking away. “I wanted to, um. I don’t know. I noticed how you’ve been avoiding the cafeteria, and-- I wanted an excuse to have lunch with you, I guess…”

Rex smiles. “You don’t need an excuse, you know. I mean, not that I’m complaining about a free, home-made sandwich…”

Key rolls his eyes, but there’s a dark blush high on his cheeks. “They do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach…”

Rex puts the remaining half of his banh mi down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Something about that shade of pink and the afternoon sun reflecting in Key’s eyes has him feeling brave all of a sudden. “You know, there is one thing I’m glad is different.”

“Oh?” Key looks up at Rex through his lashes, and Rex’s stomach feels tight. “What's that?”

“Well, with Coach Krell gone…” Rex coughs awkwardly, “there’s no more need for me to, ah… well… we could… um, you...” he trails off, blushing furiously down at the grass, all while Key just blinks at him innocently like a big cat. There’s a mirth there that says he knows exactly what Rex means, but he’s perfectly happy to just wait for Rex to spit it out himself rather than put him out of his misery. 

“Yeees?” Key scooches a little bit closer. Rex decides to swallow the embarrassment and tough it out. 

“Willyoubemydatetotheprom?” He asks in a rush, wincing at the fumbled delivery. Luckily he doesn’t have to repeat himself, because Key’s face breaks out into a blinding grin that puts the sun to shame. “As— as my boyfriend, and— and everything?”

“Yes!” Key cheers, “and everything! God, you’re adorable!” He throws his arms around Rex’s shoulders, laughing. Rex barely has time to even think about hugging him back before Key is springing to his feet, leaping away and jumping up and down in excitement, throwing his fists in the air. “Yes! Finally!” He whoops. He does a cartwheel. Rex laughs as Key tumbles back towards him, sitting back down again, face fully flushed and smiling breathlessly. 

Key wiggles right against Rex’s side so they’re pressed together, and Rex wraps an arm around his shoulders. He brushes the seam of his jacket that hangs off Key. 

“Aren’t you warm in this?”

“Oh, I’m sweating my balls off,” Key gasps, but he’s laughing, too. “But I like wearing it too much to take it off.”

“You don’t have to wear it if it’s too hot!”

“But I like that it’s yours,” Key shyly smiles against Rex’s collar, and Rex’s arm involuntarily tightens around him. 

“W-well if you want, maybe I could, maybe you would be more comfortable if I gave you a t-shirt or something…”

“Or something,” Key echoes, giggling. He leans up and kisses Rex on the cheek, saying quietly, “you better let me know soon which of your shirts and sweaters you’re not particularly attached to, because things are gonna start disappearing out of your closet real fast.”

“Is that a warning?” Rex smirks, as Key’s hands slide around his waist. 

“It’s a promise,” Key turns his head and kisses Rex properly, and Rex kisses him back, not caring who sees. “Oh, yeah,” Key sighs as they pull away, “that was worth the wait.”

Rex slips his hand under the jacket, running his palm up and down Key’s back. He can feel the edge of his binder through his shirt, and where the fabric has gone damp in patches from sweat. “Is there anything else you’ve been waiting for?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” Key whispers, biting his lip. Just when Rex leans in for another kiss he twists away, reaching over to grab his sandwich. “To finish our lunch! I’m starving!” 

Rex laughs loudly, picking up his own half-eaten sandwich as well as Key settles against him, tucked contentedly into his side. They continue eating, and Rex feels actually relaxed for the first time in a while. He feels good, he feels happy.

[Bro pilled dude maxed]

[ D3thSt4rXX sent a post by key_madz ]

D3thSt4rXX: AYO REX WHNE WERE U GPNNA TELL US DUDE??? IM SO HURT

(The post is a selfie that Key took during their lunch when Rex wasn’t looking. Rex has one arm around Key and holding in his other hand the last bit of his sandwich which he is very focused on. Key is winking at the camera with a huge smile on his face, his tongue poking out playfully to the side between his teeth. The caption simply reads, ‘ Boyfriends, bitches! ’)

rexosaurus: … 

Hardcakes: OMG FINALLY

jessefette: FINALLY

KixRocks: FINALLY

spotted.soka: Finally!!!

D3thSt4rXX: beuh Naips you didnt even know abt thid smh 

D3thSt4rXX: *Snips

D3thSt4rXX: *bruh

jessefette: Naips

Hardcakes: Naips

D3thSt4rXX: killing nyself right in front of u to change hte tragectory if ur life forever 

fives-the-ten: REX. DUDE???

echoechoecho: bro why didn’t you say anythingggg :0 congratulations tho!!!

Hardcakes: FINALLY FUCKING FR dude you guys were starting to piss me off like actually 😭 ITS ABOUT TIME

rexosaurus: it happened less than an hour ago stop yelling at me :(

spotted.soka: congrats Rex!! You guys look so cute together 😊

rexosaurus: thanks Tano

spotted.soka: and by you guys of course I mean you and that sandwich 

rexosaurus: :/

KixRocks: BETRAYED

jessefette: LOLOLOL

fives-the-ten: which ship name sounds worse, Rey (like ree) or Kex?

echoechoecho: kex 

D3thSt4rXX: krex 

Hardcakes: krexy 

rexosaurus: I’m blocking all of you I’m never speaking to you all ever again

D3thSt4rXX: When Parme gets back in toqn u snd key shoilf come on a doublr date w us!!

D3thSt4rXX: *PADME

rexosaurus: WERE NOT DOING THAT I’m not subjecting him to that!

D3thSt4rXX: but Padme wants to meet him!! Ive been telking her all abt you two 

jessefette: nothing is sacred to you skywalker smh 

KixRocks: hey guys Mr. Kenobi looks like he’s two seconds away from confiscating all our phones lol

Hardcakes: oop 😳

rexosaurus: I hate u guys

echoechoecho: you love us hehe

fives-the-ten: just like you loooooove Key heheheh

spotted.soka: Rex and Keyy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-Goops mr koth saw me texting gotta go

jessefette: MAYDAY MAYDAY CRANKY SCOTSMAN INCOMING AVENGE ME COMRADES

D3thSt4rXX: LOL

D3thSt4rXX: o shit did all of you guyf actially getin trouble lol

D3thSt4rXX: ayo the silence id deafrning…. rip u guys

[keno.bi, D3thSt4rXX]

keno.bi: Anakin. 

D3thSt4rXX: sorryyyyyy lol

Ahsoka’s eyes widen as she cranes her neck to look around, her awestruck gaze roving across the different levels overhead and all the shops and kiosks and booths, and all the people everywhere, walking and talking and laughing and shouting. Padmé nudges Ahsoka out of the way of the entrance, giggling at the look of wonder on the younger girl’s face. 

They’re at the mall, the really big one downtown, where all the actually good stores are, with like five different floors, and fountains plural, and a real, actual arcade, and even an indoor roller rink, a cool retro one Ahsoka’s heard of that’s of the few remaining of its kind. Ahsoka doesn’t think she’s ever even been to this mall, only used to the small, dying one closer to their house that she visits with her friends sometimes because there’s a bubble tea place there, or when she tags along on Obi-Wan’s trips to the department store. Or the mid-size mall that’s a short drive but long-ass bus ride away, where there’s a small movie theatre and the Toys-R-Us . 

But Padmé wanted to take her shopping, and when Padmé goes shopping, she comes here, to the big mall downtown. She’d only just got back into town the other day, and hanging out with Ahsoka was one of the first things she wanted to do.

“This is so exciting,” Padmé grins as she pulls Ahsoka further inside, expertly weaving through the weekend crowds. Ahsoka holds her hand so she doesn’t get lost, not even caring if it makes her seem like a little kid. “Now that it’s summer— or, summer for me and almost summer for you— we’ll finally have time to properly get to know each other!”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka responds. The crowd starts to thin out a bit as they approach the first crossroads, people packed less densely further from the entrance, a little more spread out along the branching rows of stores. Once they have a bit more breathing room they stop, and Padmé turns back towards Ahsoka. She’s put her hair up in something fancier than a normal bun, the artfully styled strands of hair framing her face held in place by what seem like a million shiny gold pins. She’s wearing a dark purple top and a matching suede knee-length skirt, a short lavender jacket with fricking shoulder pads, and a shiny gold necklace that matches her hairpins and her shiny gold heels. Even her industrial-sized purse goes with the rest of the outfit, effortlessly glamorous and elegant despite the fact that it surely must have taken at least some effort, and Ahsoka can’t tell if she’s more befuddled or impressed. Padmé is the only person Ahsoka knows who can pull off shoulder pads, or wear high heels to walk around the mall and actually make it work. 

Ahsoka feels underdressed next to her in her beat-up sneakers, ripped jeans, and cropped Kittie t-shirt (she only took a few inches off the hem, so really it barely goes higher than her belt, but she hadn’t wanted to mess up the print on the front) despite that being a perfectly reasonable thing to wear to the mall.

“I’ve always wanted a little sister, you know?” Padmé says, completely earnest. Ahsoka blinks. She’s still getting used to the idea of having a family in general, let alone having a sister . 

“I thought you already have sisters?”

“Two, but I’m the youngest,” Padmé sighs. “It’s not the same. But, now there’s you!” They continue along, at a more meandering pace. “I’ll have a little sister that I can dote on and have fun with, and you’ll have a big sister that you can hang out with and come to for advice when you’re having girl problems.” She smiles down at Ahsoka, who laughs. 

“It does get a bit old being the only girl in the house,” Ahsoka says, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Obi-Mom jokes aside, he doesn’t actually count. But, I have to be honest, I’m not sure the kind of girl problems I have are the same ones you have.”

Padmé gives her a teasing look. “Are you having girl problems, Ahsoka?”

Ahsoka grimaces, her cheeks darkening tellingly. “I mean, I don’t know if— hold on,” she squints suspiciously up at Padmé. “If I tell you, are you just gonna go and tell Anakin? I do not need his meddling here.”

Padmé laughs, high and bright. “Oh, don’t worry. The two of us might be terrible gossips, but I respect the girl code— I won’t tell your overprotective older brother about your love life. This is sacred ground,” she gestures to the mall around them, “anything said here in confidence, I will take to my grave, I swear.”

“Not much of a love life,” Ahsoka grumbles, while Padmé leads them towards a donut shop. Crossing her arms, she huffs, “I mean, there’s… this girl that I’m friends with, right? We’re pretty good friends, I think, I mean, we met at the start of the year and we’re in fencing club together, we hang out after school sometimes and she invited me to her birthday party a couple months ago which was really nice…”

“Uh, huh…” Padmé nods encouragingly as they get in line. Ahsoka looks at the display case full of donuts, feeling her face getting warmer. 

“And, well, I guess I might have a bit of a crush on her,” she admits, ignoring Padmé’s quiet, excited squeal next to her. “She’s really cool, and smart, and really good at fencing, and nice, and, uh, pretty… and at her birthday party she didn’t wear her hijab because it was just girls and we were at her house, and I got kind of nervous and asked if it was still fine for me to see her without it because I’m gay, but she just smiled and said of course it’s fine, and her hair was really pretty that day and I, uh, I keep thinking about it.”

Padmé nods along, listening to Ahsoka’s jumbled ramble with shining eyes. “Do you think she likes you back?”

Ahsoka awkwardly coughs, thrilled pins and needles running all across her entire body just at the mere suggestion. “I- I don’t know,” she shrugs, starting to pinch her bottom lip. “I don’t think so, not like that. She’s not allowed to date until college, apparently, and I don’t even know if she even likes girls. Besides, it’s just a stupid little crush and I don’t plan on telling her any time soon. I don’t want to mess up our friendship. Even if she did like me back, I don’t know if…” 

Their turn comes to order, and Ahsoka trails off. She gets a chocolate glazed donut and a strawberry flavoured cold drink, and Padmé gets an iced coffee and a donut with vanilla icing and sprinkles and pays with her phone. 

“You were saying?” Padmé prompts as they sit down with their treats at a small, wobbly and sticky table. Ahsoka sighs, swirling the ice around in her cup. 

“Even if Barriss did feel the same way, I feel like I would rather us still be friends than, like, you know, girlfriends. Is that weird? I just… don’t know if I’m really ready to date anyone yet, you know?”

“Of course it’s not weird, Ahsoka,” Padmé says with complete sincerity. “You’re still young, there’s no need to rush! It’s better to go at your own pace than try to go along with what everyone thinks you’re supposed to do, especially if you’re not ready for it yet. There’s nothing wrong with taking the time to figure yourself out first, you know? Besides, there’s more to life than just relationships, friendship is important too. Not enough people remember that, I think.”

Ahsoka relaxes in her seat, feeling better now from Padmé’s reassurance. “This is why I don’t want to tell Anakin about it,” she grouses, “if he finds out, he’s going to try and set us up! Apparently he went on a huge matchmaking spree last year and it was chaos . I don't want to find out firsthand what that was like.”

Padmé laughs as she recalls Anakin’s great Cupid caper from last February. He was a man on a mission, a mission that failed spectacularly, with more couples actually breaking up as a result of his antics than getting together. “Ani is a romantic through and through,” she says a little wistfully. “It’s one of the things I really love about him, but he can sometimes forget that not everyone’s priorities are exactly the same.”

“You can say that again,” Ahsoka rolls her eyes with a smile, then gives Padmé a thoughtful look. “You and Skyguy really are serious, huh? I mean, he talks about you constantly, everyone knows how crazy he is about you, but, like… it’s really legit, huh?”

“Yeah, we’re-- pretty serious,” Padmé glances down, a rare tell of nervousness for someone usually so self-assured. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m crazy, but I really do think he’s it for me. Like, when you know, you know… you know? We’ve talked a little bit about it, our future together, but now things are becoming so much more real. I’m nervous, honestly, but I’m excited, too.”

Ahsoka waves her hand with a pfft. “What is there to be nervous about? You guys will be fine! You love each other, you’re on the same page, you’ve got plans to stick together-- what could even go wrong?”

Padmé lets out a strained, high-pitched laugh. “Knock on wood,” she says, rapping her knuckles lightly on the table. Ahsoka raises an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure this table’s not made of real wood,” she says. Padmé takes a long drink of her iced coffee.

“It’s the thought that counts,” she sniffs, and the conversation turns to lighter chit-chat while they finish their donuts and drinks.

“Alright,” Padmé says as they toss their garbage, on their feet again. “Where do you like to shop? Hot Topic? Spencers?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I usually get my clothes from the thrift store.”

“Hot Topic it is then,” Padmé gives a decisive nod. “We’ll start there and work our way around, how does that sound?”

“You’re the expert,” Ahsoka motions for Padmé to lead the way with a wry smile. Lead the way Padmé does, and they set out on their grand journey to the Hot Topic.

Ahsoka taps her foot impatiently, scowling down at her phone. Hanging from her other elbow is a small collection of her and Padmé’s shopping bags-- mostly Padmé’s. A few feet away, Padmé flicks through a rack of sweaters. 

“Has he responded yet?” Padmé asks. Ahsoka growls a negative and decides to give up on trying to reach Anakin by text, hitting the call button instead.

It rings and rings until the call almost times out, then picks up at the last second. Before he even has a chance to say anything, Ahsoka snaps, “Skyguy, quit sucking at call of duty and help us out here, would you?”

On the other end, Anakin snorts. “Jeez, Snips, you had me thinking it was an emergency. I’ll have you know I can’t just STOP sucking at call of duty, but I CAN pause the game. What’s up, is everything going alright with Padmé?”

“We’re fine-- hold on, I’m putting you on speaker.” She does, and holds the phone out towards Padmé.

“Ani--” Padmé starts.

“Hey Angel,” Anakin says with an audible smile, and Padmé sighs with a smile of her own.

“Hi,” she says. “Anakin, remind me again what Obi-Wan’s sweater rules are?”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because I’m trying to buy him a sweater.”

“Why are you buying Obi-Wan a sweater?”

“I wanted to get gifts for everyone, but I couldn’t find anything good to get him back in Palo Alto before I had to leave. So, sweater rules, please.”

“You could have just texted me, you know.”

“We DID text you!” Ahsoka cuts in, “Like a million times!”

“...Oh. Well, I see that NOW.”

Ahsoka continues, “She tried asking me first, but I didn’t even know Obi-Wan had sweater rules.”

“Trust me Snips, the sweater rules are only the tip of the iceberg. Obi-Wan is impossible to shop for, dude is so picky about so many things!”

Obi-Wan never really seemed like a super picky person to Ahsoka. She scoffs, pretty sure Anakin (and Padmé) are just exaggerating. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“It IS that bad, but lucky for all of us, I have it down to an exact science. Okay, ready? Here it goes: try to avoid really bright colours or super busy patterns, but as long as it’s not an actual eyesore, it should be fine, how it looks is not nearly as important as how it feels. He’s a size medium, but you might want to look for a large to be on the safe side because he likes his sweaters to be a little more loose fitting, there’s gotta be room to move around in there, and he prefers it when the sleeves especially are a little wider and longer because he likes to stick his hands in his sleeves and just walk around like that like a little freak. So the sleeves can’t be ones that would be stretched out from doing that, or have elastic in the ends.”

As he talks, Padmé starts looking through the sweaters more vigorously, a look of deep concentration on her face. Anakin keeps going;

“Got that? Now, this next bit is SUPER important-- no synthetic fibers, zilch, none, nada. No acrylic, no microweave or whatever, none of that. Not even if it’s mixed with natural materials. Trust me, he can feel the difference.”

Padmé tsk’s and puts a sweater back.

“Try to avoid 100% regular wool things, though, too, ” Anakin goes on, “ he finds it itchy. Wool blend might be okay if you’re going for something warmer, but be careful. Alpaca is his favourite but that can be harder to find, cashmere is okay, but merino or lamb wool is better. Seriously, the sweater CAN NOT be itchy. Even if you’re feeling it and you think it’s probably fine, if it’s even a little bit itchy it is NOT fine. And you might be standing there thinking, it’s a sweater, he’ll wear it over his other clothes, what’s the big deal? Well I’ll tell you the big deal, remember what I said about longer sleeves? If he’s got these rings of itchyness around even just his hands, god forbid it’s touching his neck, then that’s literally worse than torture, okay? Like, it would literally be kinder just to waterboard him, I’m not even exaggerating.”

Ahsoka nods along slowly. “Uh, huh…”

But Anakin’s still not done. “The best method that works for me is to try rubbing part of the sweater on the inside of my wrist. Think to yourself, would this be okay to wrap a newborn baby in? If it’s even a little bit itchy, put it back. Obi-Wan has like shrimp colours levels of itchyness that only he can sense, like some fucked up superpower. Oh yeah, and make sure the tag isn’t too coarse or itchy, either. And be careful with seams! If they’re too thick, or lumpy, or, yeah, ITCHY, then he won’t like it.”

“Wow,” Ahsoka shakes her head while Padmé starts inspecting the tags on the sweaters. “I guess Obi-Wan is pickier than I thought. I never really noticed.”

“That’s cause he doesn’t wear things he doesn’t like. Haven’t you ever noticed that he doesn’t even own any jeans?”

Ahsoka blinks. “Doesn’t he? Wait-- no, yeah, you’re right, I’ve never seen him wear jeans. I never really questioned it, I thought that was just his style.”

"I’m telling you Snips, the only pants he has that aren’t slacks or corduroy are his pajamas. You should hear the way he talks about jeans, he sounds like a fucking born-again-christian or something, he’s all like,” Anakin starts doing a bad british accent, “‘oh sure I used to wear jeans back in my youth but I suffered, Anakin, I SUFFERED, everyone else wore jeans so I never questioned it and they were what was available but it was a very dark time in my life, you know, then, one day I decided to just stop wearing jeans and it was like I was a brand new person, I became happier, more relaxed, more confident, more focused, there was a new light in my life, and I’ve never looked back since, it was the best decision I ever made, you know, it was the work of the devil, Anakin, the devil tried to destroy me with jeans but I overcame--’ ”

“He does not say that,” Ahsoka cuts him off, incredulous.

“No, he does, he sounds exactly like that, I swear!” Anakin cries, dropping the impression. “He’s literally insane, okay, and we’re not even halfway down the iceberg! You’ve probably never seen him wear a t-shirt either, right? Well he does own t-shirts, but he uses them as undershirts-- which, already, who even wears undershirts anymore, what is this, the fifties? He wears them under his button-up shirts, even if it’s like a million degrees out, and you wanna know why? SEAMS. It’s the damn seams again! He even wears his socks inside out because he hates seams so much!”

“Obi-Wan wears his socks inside out?”

Padmé cuts in before Anakin’s tirade can go on any longer. “Dang it, pretty much all of these are synthetic blends. I’m going to have to find an independent seller, probably, get something hand-made.”

“Why don’t you just forget about the sweater and look for something easier? Like a book or something,” Ahsoka suggests. From the phone’s speaker, they can hear Anakin’s sharp inhale.

“Easier!? Don’t even get me STARTED on--”

“Okay, we won’t,” Padmé says cheerfully, “See you later, Ani!” She quickly presses the end call button, hanging up on him. Ahsoka snorts. 

“What about a new mug?” She says. “I got him a mug for christmas, and he uses it all the time. I’m sure he’d like that.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Ahsoka,” Padmé grins, and they link arms to go skipping off back out into the mall.

It’s late. Obi-Wan is tired, but doubts he’ll be able to get any sleep that night. He can already tell that no matter how heavy his limbs get and how much his eyes start to sting it will still take long, long hours before his brain and body cooperate well enough to actually put him to sleep. He’s not doing himself any favours, admittedly, frustratedly browsing social media like this when he should be relaxing with a good book or some sudoku to wind down for bed. But he can’t make himself stop, scrolling harder instead of smarter as if seeing more posts from the endless slog of bot spam, inane drudgery, ads, misinformation, and even more ads per second will actually do anything to resolve the buzz of sourceless anxiety hammering behind his sternum. 

Obi-Wan sighs, pressing tired fingers to his forehead and pushing his dishevelled hair away from his face. What does a man have to do to get some goddamn bloody inner peace around here?

The ping of a new notification draws his attention back to his laptop screen: a friend request from Satine. His stomach roils as he accepts it, clicking over to her profile and scrolling down through her posts. There’s links to news articles covering court cases she’s worked on, long, long posts fiercely condemning gun violence and calling for gun control, preaching about the importance of ‘vote blue no matter who’, something reposted about something particularly ‘fierce’ that Beyoncé recently did, some more reposted affirmations about harnessing one's divine feminine energy, promotion for charity events, PSA’s about littering and green energy and fundraising for endangered elephants, a quote about feminism from J.K Rowling (Obi-Wan winces hard, but elects to bring it up at a later date), and mostly, interspersed with all that, lots of pictures of Korkie. Obi-Wan frowns; if they’d raised him together, he would have been more reticent about putting their child’s face out there on the internet, but, well, they didn’t raise him together. So now here he is, examining the pictures of his surprise, estranged young son. He’ll be turning nine in a good few months, and he seems like a happy boy, always smiling for the camera. He has Obi-Wan’s hair and eyes. 

An uncomfortable, un-nameable emotion wells up in Obi-Wan’s chest. He can’t believe Satine never told him. It appears they moved to New York several years ago, even— just one state away. He can’t believe she never said anything. If they’d never been re-introduced into each other’s lives by chance, would he ever have known?

A new message pops up, from Satine. Obi-Wan opens it. 

Satine: Good evening, Obi-Wan. How have you been?

Obi-Wan: Well as I can be. You?

Satine: Just fine. I was thinking I might bring Korkie to your city for a weekend so we can visit you and you two can meet. My schedule is packed as ever, but I should be able to make time soon. How does that sound?

Obi-Wan: That sounds nice. I am also fairly busy, but once final grades are in for the year I’ll have more free time. 

Satine: Wonderful. I’ll let you know when I can come up with a more specific timeframe. Don’t worry about having to host us, by the way. We’ll stay at a hotel. 

Obi-Wan: That’s fine. 

Satine: Korkie is very excited to meet you, you know. I’ve told him all about you.

Obi-Wan takes a deep, meditative breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, imploring himself to not say something snarky in response. Like, ‘oh, have you now’ or ‘at least one of us has actually known the other existed’ or ‘did you also tell him I’m some sort of deadbeat or were you honest about why I haven’t been in his life?’ All those options would not be good, helpful things to say and would not be conducive to clear, open communication, mutual understanding, and good faith. So he doesn’t say anything like that. 

Obi-Wan: I’m glad. I’m looking forward to meeting him as well. 

Except he’s not actually sure if he is looking forward to it. He has no idea what he’s feeling, to be honest, all he knows is whatever it is, he hates feeling it. He hates himself, a little bit. 

Maybe more than a little bit, but that’s hardly here nor there. 

Maybe he ought to see a therapist, as well. 

He quickly closes the chat and clicks away back to the Facebook homepage before his blood pressure can suffer any more. He sits there for a minute, staring at the infernal screen and feeling vaguely upset for no discernible reason, until a distant thought about estranged parents nudges at something that’s been sitting at the back of his mind. 

Anakin’s mother. She’s been out there somewhere all this time, turns out, not deceased like Obi-Wan had assumed all those years ago, when the social worker told him Anakin ‘was being raised by his mother before he was in the state’s care’ and when Anakin used to cry into his sleep-shirt late at night that he missed his mother and he wished she was ‘still here’ and how he hated that he ‘would never see her again’. 

Obi-Wan grumbles under his breath. It sure would have been nice to know Anakin’s mother was alive. Sure would have been appreciated if someone, anyone, had deigned to inform him the boy he was adopting at the dying wish of his own estranged foster father still had living family. Now Obi-Wan just feels guilty and embarrassed about the whole thing. If he’d known, he would have done things differently with Anakin— now, he just feels like a child-stealing bastard. 

Surely, Anakin would have been happier with his mother. He misses her more than he misses the limb he wasn’t born with in the first place, and it’s always been clear from how Anakin talks about her that she loved him very much, like she’d hung the stars in the sky just for him. She used to tell him stories about the stars when he couldn’t sleep, even though the city lights hid them. She found him the old, half-broken Transformers toy that is still his oldest, most cherished possession, with a place of honour on the shelf over his desk in his room. She let him keep Threepio, just a sickly puppy back then, even though they couldn’t afford a dog, because she knew that Anakin knew that he would die by himself. 

Now, Obi-Wan knows they were separated simply because she wasn’t able to house either of them. The thought just makes Obi-Wan’s blood boil. Surely, Anakin’s mother did everything she could for him. Surely, had they just been helped instead of punished for their homelessness, had she just had access to the resources they needed, she could have given him the life they deserved. Maybe, if Obi-Wan had known, he would have accepted temporary care of Anakin, and arranged for contact with his mother, and tried to help them both. Maybe he would have just handed over this old condo unit he’d inherited from Qui-Gon and let them live here, and his temporary leave of absence could have actually been temporary, and he could have gone back to London, finished school, move to Edinburgh like he wanted and--

And he never would have gotten to know Anakin, of course. He never would have met Ahsoka. He wouldn’t have reconnected with his old friends, or… or have ever met Cody. In all likelihood, he would have ended up unhappily married to Satine, or maybe they would have already been divorced by now, and he would have a different kid that he would probably only see on the holidays, and he would be alone the rest of the time.

The idea makes him want to lay his head down and cry. But Anakin would have been happier that way, surely. Is Obi-Wan really so selfish as to be glad this is how things turned out instead? Is he really such a monster?

Obi-Wan plucks his glasses off his face and roughly scrubs his eyes, scolding himself. This is not about him. It is about Anakin, and fixating on the past doesn’t help anyone, he’s reminded himself of this countless times over the years. He can’t fix what happened nearly a decade ago, but he can try and fix things now. Even if the thought of Anakin not needing him anymore makes his stomach twist anxiously. He refocuses on the screen in front of him, and decides that, well, he needs to start somewhere.

His clicks on the facebook search bar and his fingertips fly to resting position on the keyboard before freezing. Blast it, what was her first name? Anakin has mentioned before that he has his mother’s last name, but what is the woman’s first name? Has it ever even been said? Going out on a limb, Obi-Wan reasons to himself that Skywalker is hardly a common last name, so he swiftly types just that in and hits enter. 

No results. Obi-Wan groans, resisting thumping his forehead on the keyboard. No, that just would have been too easy, wouldn’t it?

Another notification appears in the corner. 

Satine: I’m also looking forward to seeing you again Obi, despite the way you left things the last time we spoke. 

Satine: :)

Obi-Wan shuts his laptop and goes to bed.