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The chrono glows 18:00 Coruscant Standard when Obi-Wan slips through the door of their shared quarters, the scent of ozone and distant speeder exhaust clinging to his robes. Council duty ran long, leaving weariness in the lines around his eyes. Sixteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker, sprawled on the worn blue sofa with a datapad forgotten on his lap, snaps his head up. A flicker of hurt, quickly masked by mischief, crosses his face.
"Took you long enough, Master," he grumbles, the Coruscanti street-slang thick in his teasing tone.
Before Obi-Wan can offer an apology, Anakin snatches the nearest nerf-hide cushion – lumpy and faded from years of use – and hurls it with surprising accuracy. It smacks Obi-Wan squarely in the chest with a soft whump.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan barks, startled, but a reluctant grin tugs at his lips.
The cushion, smelling faintly of synth-caf and engine grease (unmistakably Anakin), tumbles to the floor. Anakin is already scrambling, grabbing another pillow.
"Pillow fight!" he crows, launching himself off the sofa.
Obi-Wan ducks the second missile, the feather-light stuffing whispering past his ear. "Oh, it's on, Padawan mine," he declares, the formal title laced with warmth.
He snatches the fallen cushion, the familiar weight comforting in his hands. Anakin dances back, eyes bright with challenge, a pillow raised like a shield. The duel begins not with lightsabers, but with soft thuds and breathless laughter echoing in the small, cluttered living space.
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scaryfangirl2001 Wed 08 Oct 2025 01:57PM UTC
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Inubaki91 Mon 10 Nov 2025 01:24AM UTC
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scaryfangirl2001 Mon 10 Nov 2025 03:07AM UTC
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