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Chapter Text

Obi-Wan woke up with feeling like a got into a fight with a gundark, and lost miserably. His head was pounding, and his stomach rolled uncomfortably, leading him to his first conclusion: he was probably in the med bay.

Cautiously, Obi-Wan opened his eyes and proceeded to immediately shut them when he was assaulted by blindingly white lights.  His headache spiked and he let out a pained groan.

Definitely the med bay then.  

“Morning sir, had a nice nap?”

Obi-Wan blearily blinked his eyes open, slower this time. His sluggish mind couldn’t quite remember how he got there.

 “A good nap, yes,” he said dazedly, “But I distinctively remember it being midday. What happened this time?”

Helix radiated amusement in the force and that definitely was never a good sign. Helix was more likely to swear at him for being a Di’kut and duct tape him to the bed, again. If Helix was amused then Obi-Wan did something he probably regrets.Obi-Wan felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“What do you remember, sir?”

That was a very good question. What did he remember?  His head was stuffed with cotton, and he could hardly focus on anything. “We were fighting the Separatists. We were winning, but then Dooku showed up with reinforcements. Then…” he squinted, wracking his brain for the elusive memories. “I… I think I fought him?”

“You did, sir, and it was awesome!” Waxer enthused, one of the many clones crowded into the med room that escaped his notice. He must be more out of it then he thought if he didn’t even sense them, which was mildly worrying. They looked at him with varying emotions: concern, amusement, and most worryingly, pride.   

“… Was it?” he asked cautiously, almost afraid of the answer. Two dozen identical faces smirked in union, and that was an occasion normally reserved for Anakin. Which lead Obi-Wan to his second conclusion: he was spending too much time with his former Padawan.  

“You were blade to blade with Dooku when he disarmed you. He had his saber pointed at your throat, and it wasn’t looking good until-“

In horrifying clarity, Obi-Wan remembered what exactly happened, and really, really, wished he didn’t.

“- You projectile vomited all over Dooku!” Wooley cackled with glee, “It was glorious!”

Obi-Wan violently cringed and buried his face in his hands, ready to wrap himself in the bedsheets and never show his face ever again. Why? Why did this have to happen to him? It something he could see Anakin doing, seeing as he was a walking disaster and frequently ruined negotiations by offending royalty, but him? It was beyond mortifying.

The cursed memories rushed to the forefront of his mind, if only to torture him about his ruined image.

“I take it you will surrender then, Master Kenobi?” Dooku purred, a satisfied smirk on his face. His red saber was levelled with Obi-Wan’s neck, and to be honest, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how he was getting out of this one. His saber was half a battlefield away and he was standing too close to Dooku for his men to safely fire.

That, and he felt horridly nauseous. Move to quickly and the world spined, which made self-rescue a tad inconvenient.

“Not today, Count,” Obi-Wan said pleasantly, the battlefield wobbling and spinning around him, “Too many council meetings scheduled, I’m afraid. Why don’t you come back next week and try again?”

Dooku’s lips curled in displeasure, “Come now master Kenobi, I am sure we can come to an… agreement. The dark side has much to offer-“

At that point, Obi-Wan tuned out. He’s heard Dooku’s spiel about the ‘great power’ of the dark side at least a dozen times before, and he was ready to shove the dark side up Dooku’s arse.  

Obi-Wan swayed on his feet. Was it just him or was the ground moving? His stomach rolled and he tasted bile in the back of his throat.

“-Join me, and we shall bring justice…” Dooku trailed off and frowned, eyeing him critically, “Kenobi, you are white as a sheet. Do tell me you aren’t contagious?”

“I…” Obi-Wan trailed off, squinting. The sun was too bright, and it made his head hurt. “I think…”

Dooku cautiously lowered his saber, “Kenobi, what is going-“

At that moment, a series of unfortunate events stacked up. The splitting red light of Dooku’s saber moved just a bit too fast for his throbbing head, and the rich smell of Dooku’s robes made Obi-Wan’s nose burn. He shook his head and, wow, that made him dizzy. Henceforth, the delicate balance inside of Obi-Wan’s bubbling stomach disintegrated.  

He vomited.

A lot.

A stream of rancid stomach bile and half-digested rations projected out of Obi-Wan’s mouth. It arced through the air, a horrible disaster rainbow, and landed all over Count Dooku’s alarmed face and his immaculate robes.

They stared at each other in horrified bewilderment. The vomit was literally dripping off Dooku, who stood frozen, and it reeked something shocking.

Dooku’s face went greyer than his beard as a drop of vomit landed in his gaping mouth. He shuddered, retching and choking and flailing like he was poisoned. Finally, as Obi-Wan’s vomit penetrated his robes and touched his skin, Dooku swayed on his feet. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell backwards in a dead faint.

Which was funny, seeing as Obi-Wan did exactly the same thing a moment later.

Once again, Obi-Wan wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh force,” he groaned and rubbed at his forehead- this whole situation was one big headache for him. “Anakin will never let me live this down.”

He’d hold it above his head until Obi-Wan inevitably kicked the bucket, one way or another. And then, once Anakin joined the force, he’d go right back to saying ‘hey, remember the time you vomited on Dooku? Cause I do’ while he haunted him.

The clones looked far too pleased with him.

“Don’t worry sir, it was the best thing we have ever seen in our lives. Dooku fainted like some prissy royalty- it was honestly fabulous!” Waxer crowed, delighted, “This whole time, the only thing we had to do was to get you to vomit on him.”

The men giggled like school children, and Obi-Wan can’t blame them for laughing. He would be rolling on the floor if it had been Quin-Lan.

“I’m glad I can bring you such riveting amusement,” he said dryly, “But I don’t suppose you can tell me what happened after I… became indisposed.”

Waxer rubbed his hands together, “That’s the real kicker, sir. We got him into custody, and he confessed everything!”

Obi-Wan’s mouth dropped open. They’ve been trying to take Dooku down for what felt like an eternity. They’ve fought one on one. Blown up his ships, crashed his speeders, force, they’ve even stabbed him. But one batch of projectile vomit apparently took him down. It couldn’t have been that easy… right?

Cody cleared his throat, taking the center stage.

“We took him into custody after he fainted. Thanks to some… advanced interrogation tactics, we have arrested the Sith Master.”

Obi-Wan blinked, and decided he had no idea what to do with that statement, and continued, “… advanced interrogation techniques?”

Cody smirked, a horrifying sadistic glee on his commander’s usually serious face, “We wouldn’t let him shower. He was nearly begging to get the vomit off, so we borrowed a page from your book and, ahem, negotiated.”

If he didn’t feel so damn nauseated, he would have hugged his commander until his armour cracked. Instead, he gave them all a brilliant smile and heart felt “Well done”.

Perhaps vomiting, however mortifying, was worth it to see his men beam with pride, and even shed a tear.

But then his cotton stuffed brain caught up with Cody. He frowned, “… Sith Master?”

The glee was sucked out of the room like it was never there, and Cody immediately became stony faced and grim, “Chancellor Palpatine is under arrest for treason against the republic, the grooming of a minor and practicing the dark arts, which is illegal under the condition that the said dark arts involved murder and crimes against humanity.”

Horror washed over Obi-Wan. Horror for his padawan, who he let have tea with a Sith Masterfor the past decade. Horror for his men, who were created by this… this bastard for a war that was designed to be lost. There has been a Sith Master in the senate, exactly as Dooku said, pulling strings and manipulating them all to do who knows what. And he did nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” he told them sorrowfully, “None you deserved this.”

“Yeah, you’re right. None of us, including you, deserved to fight in this war. But what’s done is done. We caught the fucker, and the war is officially over.”

And wasn’t that a beautiful sentence. The war- it was over! He was so immeasurably proud of them all, especially Cody. He negotiated with a Sith Lord, a feat half the Jedi order couldn’t do with a blaster at their temple, and he was a good man to beat.

“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat, feeling oddly sentimental, “If the war brought us one good thing, it would be all of you.”

The clones all beamed a beautiful brightness into the force that he just wanted to baskin forever. It wasn’t often he felt such happiness, especially in these dark times.

 Cody gave him a shaky smile, the one used after they survived the impossible, and put a tender hand on his shoulder. The warmth from his hand melted into his skin, and Obi-Wan never wanted it to leave.

He was ready to hug each and every one of his men, gently, and fly all the way to coruscant to punch Palpatine in the face. Until, of course, Helix remined him that he was in the med bay for a reason.

“Sir, we’re in the med bay, and I would like to discuss some things with you. If you can actually stay in the bed, that is.” Helix looked at him distinctively unimpressed, so Obi-Wan put hugging the hell out of his troops on the backburner.

He waved a hand, “Be my guest. And, ah, the men can stay,” he said quickly before they were all booted out. The troops breathed an audible sigh of relief, the overprotective pack of wolves they were, and shuffled closer to him until his bed was surround from all sides.

Helix didn’t even try fight it, despite having so many people in one medical room being far from sanitary.

“Right, so you vomited on Dooku. You’ve been feeling nauseous?”

“Yes?” He didn’t like where this was going at all.

“Vomiting after eating, moving or smelling something unpleasant?”

“Unfortunately.” Around him, about half the clones groaned, and the other half looked ready to aggressively roll him in bubble wrap.

“Dizziness? Fatigue? Headaches? Sudden mood swings?”

“… Yes. Where is this going?”

Helix nodded to himself and pricked Obi-Wan with a hypospray to draw his blood. The data reader beeped, and Helix actually smiled (Obi-Wan was now positive he had a terminal illness).

“Congratulations, Master Kenobi, you’re pregnant!”

“…”

The entire room went dead silent. Cody was frozen solid, and Snacc dropped his ration bar. The cogs in Obi-Wan’s brain screeched to a holt and fell apart. He was… what?

“… Excuse me?” Obi-Wan floundered. That couldn’t be possible, he was a man!

Helix gave him a look, “Well sir, you frequently defy the impossible. I filed it under the ‘weird Jedi shit’ label.”

He struggled for words, because what was he supposed to say in response to a bombshell this big?, “No… no, that’s even quite weird for a Jedi. Considering I am a male, and I am most definitely a virgin.”

The medic paused. Cody went red in the face and looked away.

“I can run some tests for you if they’ll make you feel better, but the scan indicated that your carrying a human child.”

Obi-Wan blinked. He was miraculously pregnant- and what? The only other time he heard of this happening was…

Was the birth of Anakin Skywalker, certified Human Disaster and magnetic for all kind of weird. He groaned for the millionth time that day and decided this was it. His life had reached peak ‘screw with Obi-Wan Kenobi, it’s fun!’ and requested that he had a cup of tea. Half the clones fought to get to the door first.

Cody was still staring off into the distance, having an existential crisis so powerful that Obi-Wan could feel it matching his own.

And thus came Obi-Wan’s third conclusion of the day. Somehow, this was Anakin’s fault.

Chapter Text

A few weeks ago in Padme’s Coruscant apartment

Padme flopped down on her bed with the grace of a drunk goose and closed her eyes, dead tired.

Fourteen grueling hours in the senate building was a normal day for her. Usually, the long hours didn’t bother her- she was a queen as a teenager after all, and she was no stranger to the absolutely ridiculous amount of time needed to solve stupidly simple issues.  

Except.

Except she is feeling genuinely awful. She ached to her bones. Her head is pounding like a senate pod ran her over, and she just wants to sleep.

So, in extreme satisfaction, she pulled her silk blanket over her tired body and sighed contently.

Finally. A nap. It was all she wanted in the galaxy at that moment.

For several moments she just laid there, basking in the glory of peace and quiet when-

“Pst, Padme. Padme, are you awake- ah shavit, I promise I’ll fix that- crap, I’m so sorry!”

No. It can’t be. He’s supposed to be on Ryloth, she thought in horror.

There was the sound of something smashing, probably one of her handcrafted vases from Alderaan, and muffled swearing.  

She stared at the ceiling bleakly. There was a heavy thud, and Padme couldn’t help but cringe as she heard wood splintering under the weight of one Jedi knight.

There was a pained wheeze and awkward shuffling, “Karking hells, was that expensive? Because if it was, I can’t pay for it.”

She closed her eyes in defeat, accepting that nothing was safe or sacred anymore. Why. Why? What had she done to deserve this?

Her husband flung himself through the door like a human-shaped hurricane, disheveled and covered in grime, smiling brilliantly.

“Padame, look at me, I came home early!” he said proudly, puffing his chest out and flipping his tangled locks of hair. He leaned against the doorframe in a way that he probably thought was sexy, but it really, really wasn’t.

Padme closed her eyes and counted to five. She must not murder her husband. Too much paperwork. “Welcome back, Ani. Did you break the-“

“Coffee table, vases and tea sets?” he winked, blowing her a kiss, “But small obstacles in my path to return to you, my love.”

“They cost a million credits combined,” she said flatly. She was seeing the holo-bills already, and what day was it even? Had she filed her tax? Her brain was mush.

Anakin shrugged slyly, “Oops? But what if there was another way I could … repay you.”

He crawled across the bed; a lewd grin stretched across his face. He prowled closer towards her exhausted body, and- no, not gonna happen.

“No, darling, not tonight.”

Anakin pouted, but he slowly traced a hand up her leg, “But I’ve waited for a whole fortnight, angel, I’m desperate for you. Desperate for your beautiful body.” He caressed her thighs, worshipping her smooth and delicate skin, “What I pleased you instead? With my mouth.”

He smiled seductively and leaned down, his face on a one-way trajectory to the wonders of her womanhood, and Padme’s exhausted brain went not today you horny bastard- and nailed him in the face with her foot with a surprising amount of strength.

Anakin flew backwards, sailing spectacularly in a graceless arc, his robes twisting and twirling ferociously- and crashed into the wall with an undignified ‘thump’.

Anakin cursed, wincing as he clutched his shoulder, “Padme, what the kriff?! That hurt?”

He looked up at her with those ridiculously big, blue eyes, full of betrayal and confusion,  sprawled out on the floor in an undignified heap. She nearly felt guilty.

Nearly.  

“No means no, Anakin,” she said sternly, “How does cuddling sound instead?”

The hurt evaporated in an instant. He smiled softly, slowly clambering onto her bed and kicking his boots off and his dirty outer robe, “You’re right, I was too pushy. A cuddly huggle snuggle it is.”

He flopped down next to her and tucked his arms around her middle, burying his smooth face into her neck.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled. He hugged her like an octopus, practically purring.

She absently petted his arm, half asleep. “Thank you, Ani. Now go to sleep.”

For a blessed few seconds, he was beautifully, wonderfully silent. But when was Anakin Skywalker ever really quiet? The answer is never.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.  

“So… how was your day?”

Padme sighed, defeated. It seems she wouldn’t be getting any sleep without giving her needy husband some attention first. “Very tiring, non-stop senate work.”

The strong arms tightened around her and Anakin nosed her neck protectively, “They’re over working you. You shouldn’t be this tired.”

She sighed.

“I’m not, usually. I think I just need a day off.”

Everyone needed a day off, these days. The war was hard on everybody.

“I have a day off tomorrow. I dunno, we could, uh,” he coughed, “We could spend the day together? Like, together together?”

Padme winced. She knows that Anakin is clingy and emotionally needy, and she hated to exclude him form her plans. It almost feels cruel to deny him.

“Sorry Ani, but I’m spending the day with my sisters tomorrow. They’ve come all the way to Coruscant to see me.”

“… Oh,” he said dejectedly. He hesitated for a moment, “I always wanted a sibling, growing up,” he confessed, “It seems… nice.”

Padme softens. The Jedi lifestyle is hard on Anakin. He loves being a Jedi- he does so much good in the galaxy, but there are times when Padme wishes her husband had lived a different life. He is so full of energy and life, so full of emotions, that remaining unattached is suffocating him.

A sibling would have done a great deal for him.

She takes his hands in hers.

 “Yes. They are nice.”

He hummed softly, “Can… can you tell me about your sisters?”

Padme placed his hands over her heart, knowing that her steady heart rate soothed his troubled soul. He clung to her, and despite not having the force, she could feel his vulnerability in the moment.

“My sisters are my best friends, my closest confidents, and my worst enemies,” she smiles fondly despite her tiredness, remembering her bright and playful childhood with her sisters.

Anakin was hanging on her every word, listening with rapt attention.

“Majan, my younger sister. She used to steal my dresses when I repeatedly told her not to, and they always came back with a hole or two. Or never. She was a little monster growing up. Stealing my things, talking non-stop for hours on end, running off when we went to the markets… but she was always there, my little monster, to hug me when I cried.”

Marjan was three years younger than her. She had been a troublemaker, and had since grown into an accomplished, yet wild spirited, veterinary trainee.  

“Sola is my older sister, and the fussiest mother hen I’ve ever seen- she had an uncanny ability of knowing exactly when I was in trouble. She would interrogate me, poke me, scold me… wrap me in blankets and make me tea. She never told mum and dad what I did, even if I was particularly naughty. That job was all Marjan’s. The things we got away with together…” Padme shook her head in amazement.

“My sisters can be awful and horribly annoying, and they drive me crazy. But you are right- they are a gift, and I love them with all my heart.”

Her husband was oddly silent.  

“Mum always wanted a daughter, you know,” he said heavily, “but she didn’t want her to grow up as a slave- little girls were worth a lot of money on Tatooine. She would always say that if we ever became free, she would give me a sister…” her husband swallowed thickly, “I guess she never got the chance.”

She remembered that horrible day on Tatooine when Anakin came home with his mother’s body. Anakin had shattered with grief, and she knew that his heart was held together by threads.

“Oh Ani, I am so sorry,” she said sincerely, “That is a horrible feeling to live with.”. He held on to her like he was drowning- a wounded noise clawing at his throat.

“I miss her, Padme,” he whispered, “It still hurts. I feel the hole in my heart where my mother should be like a blaster bolt, and I don’t know how to fill it!”

Anakin buried his face into her neck, and she hugged him with all her strength.

Her nightgown was growing wet where his face rested, but she didn’t care in the slightest. “I know it hurts, my one, but I’m here for you. I always will be. And I know that if you ever had a sibling, she would be here too.”

Anakin clung to her. He trembled in her arms, and it tugged at her heart to see her proud Jedi Knight so lonely.

He ducked his head down shyly, almost like he was confessing a forbidden desire, “… I desperately wish I had a sibling. We would have each other. Always.”

“I know,” she couldn’t imagine a life without her sisters. It would been so lonely. Marjan and Sola were one of the few people she could be herself around when she was queen- they kept her sane. Anakin doesn’t have that. He has to be a Jedi all the time.

They hugged each other for a few minutes, and Padme was nearly asleep. Just a few moments and she would drift off into oblivion…

“If Obi-Wan had kids, would that make them my siblings or my cousins?”

She thwacked him.

Obi-Wan, the Jedi temple

Obi-Wan was pulled out of his trance when the force… did something. It was like a warm presence embraced him and touched his very core, but it was gone quicker than he could make sense of it.

He studied the force and didn’t sense the presence again. He shrugged and settled back into his meditative pose with a sigh.

It was probably nothing.

Approximately 4 hours after the revelation

What felt like half the ship was packed in the command room. Clones clustered around the command table like sardines. They murmured and talked amongst each other warily, waiting anxiously for the mission debrief of a lifetime.

Cody slammed his fist onto the table. The men quietened instantly, snapping to attention.

 “Listen up!” he commanded, surveying the room with hard and determined eyes, and any clones who were still whispering froze, “We have a long and dangerous campaign to tackle, and I need all of you to be on top of your game.”

Men straightened under Cody’s harsh glare. They knew that Cody was not being cruel or demanding but rightfully determined- all the men where.

“This mission is projected to last about nine months. It may be the hardest mission we have ever faced.” he clenched his fist, the leather gloves creaking under the force of his determination.

“We will need to be vigilant for every spot of trouble, and I expect a minimum of two clones guarding our charge at all time!” Cody punched a few buttons on his datapad and a spread sheet projected over the table.

The troopers gasped at the data. Worried murmurs filled the command room, and brothers clutched at each other’s hands.

“We have our work cut out for us, I know,” Cody said grimly. “I have allocated men into elite squads who will be delegated tasks of the utmost importance, and failure will not be tolerated. This mission-“

Obi-Wan cleared his throat from where he was seated.

“Might I remind you that I am pregnant, not dying?”

Cody stared at him flatly because his general nearly dies on a regular basis, and now he has an ik’aad to look out for- a baby. An innocent life: a precious, beautiful piece of his general that he can’t wait to meet.

And he won’t get to meet it if he gets himself kriffing killed.

“You were nearly stabbed by a bounty hunter three days ago. And a week ago you fell into a ravine full of venom mites.”

His general frowned, “Well, yes. But those are rare occurrences. I am very capable of looking after myself, thank you.”

The command room was filled with dozens of men groaning, and Boil rolled his eyes, “Sir, you attract trouble like a magnet.”

Obi-Wan sniffed indignantly at the murmurs of agreement filling the room, and Cody wanted to throttle the damn man.

“I am fine. You certainly don’t need elite squads to monitor me all day, I assure you.”

He felt his eye twitch, “It’s non-negotiable. We’re not taking the chance that our ik’aad will be killed. And they’re not all for protection.”

His jetii raised a ruggedly handsome eyebrow, “Oh? Please, do tell what my ‘elite squads’ will be doing.”

He grinned like a shark. It felt like his decant day because his general was finally going to eat regular meals.

“For one thing, Squadron II will be responsible for your meals. They will ensure you are eating the diet that Helix prescribed. You are more underweight then I like, and it will be harmful to the baby if you don’t get your weight up.”

Obi-Wan looked at him, dismayed.

“But- “

“No. Buts.”

Like magic, Helix shoved a bowl of nutrient rich… something into the Jedi’s hands, along with three ration bars.

His general made a face, “I don’t think this is necessary. I eat just fine.”

At least half the clones rolled their eyes. Cody included.

He sighed, “Please, sir. We worry for you, and now that there is a baby on the way… we just want to make sure that both of you will be okay.”

As expected, his general softened and reluctantly began picking at the food.

“Very well, I suppose I can fit a meal or two into my schedule.” Obi-Wan shifted in his seat in discomfort. The poor jet’ii was unused to getting looked after, and that was going to change, very, very fast. There were hundreds of men on board the Negotiator, and each and every one of them are already are in love with the general’s baby.

Cody sighed. It really was going to be a long mission; Kenobi’s stubbornness was legendary.

“We’re not trying to be overbearing, sir. We care about you, and we want to do the best we can. But you have to let us help. For your sake, and your baby’s.”

His General unconsciously placed a hand over his stomach. it’s hard to believe that there is a baby beneath his smooth, toned stomach with rock hard abs and mouth-wateringly pale skin … no, no! Bad Cody. It’s bad enough that his general was a sarcastic, intelligent and beautiful creature… he just had to become magically pregnant.

He shook his head and pressed another button on his datapad. The health statistics of Obi-Wan’s weight, sleeping habits and diet disappeared, and was replaced by a list of squadrons and their delegated tasks.

“Helix and a dozen other clones will be training in prenatal care and obstetrics. Squad I will be your mission shadows, and squadron III is responsible for identifying, managing and eliminating threats. The rest of the men will look out for you, but in a more general sense.”

Cody himself will be there for his general whenever he needs him. He will listen to his worries, soothe him to sleep, and he will hold his hand when he’s scared. Cody is a good soldier, but he’s an even better friend.

And one day, hopefully, a lover.

Obi-Wan smiled hesitantly, “I suppose a cup of tea wouldn’t be amiss.”

Instantly, a dozen clones rushed out of the room in a flurry, all fighting to get to the kettle first. Muffled curses and thuds echoed into the command room, and his poor general looked bewildered.

“Oh dear…”

A few moments later a perfectly brewed cup of tea was gently placed on the table, and Obi-Wan took it with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Astrix,” the trooper beamed with pride, and a dozen other trooper pouted, each of them holding a cup in their hands.

His general flailed a bit, which was amusing. The man hated letting others down, and there was no doubt that he was feeling guilty because he couldn’t drink three dozen cups of tea.

“You may sit down with me- the tea should warm you up,” the red head smiled, dimples appearing on his chiselled cheeks, “It’s a bit chilly in here.”

The entire room froze. Not a man moved.

His general looked around nervously, “… Did I say something wrong?”

The room exploded into a flurry of action. Men were running out the door and some were hitting the control panels, frantically pressing buttons.

“Get the blankets!”

“-course he’s cold, he’s kirffing underweight!”

“- ship is in freaking deep space, makes my own balls blue-“

“-turn up the thermostat now! “

“Does the general have enough blankets in his room?”

Someone wailed in distress at the last comment.

A trooper pounced on the general and held him still as three other brothers wrapped him in the fluffiest blankets on the entire ship. Only his head was left exposed.

They gently made sure it was wrapped snug, not tight, and rubbed his back to generate heat.

His general blushed- and it was so damn cute that Cody wanted to die- and squirmed.

“Erm, this may not be necessary?”

The clone who wrapped him in blankets shushed him, “You can come out of the blankets when the ship has raised its temperature by two degrees.”

“But the ship is huge! Heating it would take forever, and not to mention the sheer amount of fuel needed for the heat generators… it would eat away at our budget!”

Cody crossed his arms, “You’re more important then our budget. We can say the expenditure was a result of a fuel leak.”

His general looked unsure.

“… I can’t drink my tea?”

A straw was plonked into the faded green mug by a smug Waxer.

Obi-Wan sighed, “Very well. Now, if you could bring the mug closer to me that would be wonderful…”

Chapter Text

Mace Windu snapped his eyes open and jolted out of his meditation. His ‘Skywalker and Kenobi fucked some shit up again’ sense was tingling, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, inhaling harshly through his nose.

Today was going to be a headache. He could feel it down to his bones.

His commlink beeped, and what do you know, it’s an emergency council meeting.

“Skywalker,” he hissed, “Kenobi.”

He was already buried under enormous stacks of paperwork since their damned chancellor turned out to be a Sith Master. His execution took seven hundred pages of political garbage that he had to painstakingly read, and it didn’t even reach the execution terms and conditions until page five hundred.   

Somehow, they were going to make his life even harder. He knows it.

So, with five hours of sleep over the last week and twenty-six extra-large mugs of double strength caff, he stormed into the council room with his dark robes billowing behind him.  

He was the last one there. For the first time in many months, the entire council was assembled.

The first thing he noticed was how relaxed everyone looked. Which was good for them, seeing as they had a fraction of the paperwork he had (bastards). The next thing was that Kenobi wasn’t in his council chair but standing serenely with his arms folded behind his back.

Kenobi smiled at him. It was innocent, sweet… utterly full of shit.

Mace narrowed his eyes, “What have you done now, Kenobi? Don’t you know how much paperwork I already have?”

The Jedi master radiated a smug satisfaction, “I thought you were glad that we caught the sith master.”

Oh, he was. The force was no longer resembled pea soup in how cloudy it was, but he might become the next Sith Master if he didn’t catch a damn break.

“Kenobi,” he said flatly, “I have no time for your shit. Get it over with and let me get back to work so I can close my eyes for a second.”

Murmurs of agreement filled the council room. Yoda was looking dangerously pleased, his wrinkled green face smug and intrigued and- no. His life was cursed.  

“Well,” the redhead said mildly, “I’m sure you are all aware of how we learned of the Sith Master’s identity by now?”

Despite himself, he smirked. Sniggers filled the room because they all knew that Dooku squealed thanks to some truly despicable Kenobi vomit on his designer robes. That man never did visit the creche enough.

Kenobi grinned, and that’s when Mace’s hopes and dreams for sleep were dashed to oblivion, thrown into the cosmos and utterly destroyed by one man’s perchance for sheer chaos.

“As amusing as Dooku’s defeat was, the circumstances behind it are perhaps even more interesting.”

Half the council was leaning forwards on their seats, and the other half looked apprehensive. He was downright full of dread.

Kenobi placed a hand on his stomach and smiled, and Mace suddenly had a horrible, terrible, no good, bad feeling.

“I’m pregnant, masters. I’m afraid I had some nausea that caused the… projectile vomiting.”

Hell. No. Not a baby Kenobi! He couldn’t stay sane with another disaster running around the temple!

While Mace began having an existential crisis, Master Yoda flicked his ears up in surprise.

“Pregnant, you say. Name the father, you can?”

Kenobi’s grin turned outright savage.

“You could say there was no father.”

His world dropped out from under him. No. No!

He violently stood up and pointed an accusing finger at the smug son of a bitch.

“I think the fuck not!” he seethed, “No! No more of the ‘chosen one’ bullshit- I have had it with your disaster lineage. Do you know how much paperwork your lineage causes me?”

He paced, and if he had any hair, he would be ripping it out in his fury.

“Mace, perhaps you should sit down…?” Kit said cautiously.  The other council members looked wary, but Kenobi… he was starting to understand that ‘Maul’ fellow. He looked irritatingly serene, but he could see the amusement in those smug blue eyes.

“No!”

He prowled restlessly.

“First, Dooku was a real stuffy pain in the arse. Spending half the temples budget on new robes because, ‘Padawan Windu, a true man is refined and must wear the correct garments’,” he said mockingly, hands on his hips, “And your master was a troublemaker! I still have headaches from his missions. ‘I followed the living force’, he said, ‘mission parameters are only there so I can kriffing ignore every single one of them!’”

Oh, Qui-Gon Jinn was a menace. Every time he went on a mission, he would wait for the inevitable emergency council meeting and have pain killers on the ready.

“Your padawan is an arrogant, careless mess! He’s so full of midichlorians that they killed his brain cells, and he has approximately one brain cell for his hair-brained, reckless schemes that I am still filing.”

He paced faster, clenching his fists and breathing heavily. He rounded on Kenobi, all sweet and innocent, and fought the urge to throw him out the window. Somehow, throwing a pregnant person out the window didn’t feel right, even if it was the most annoying man in the galaxy.

“And you,” he laughed in despair, “You can’t fool me with your ‘serenity’ and ‘peace’. You are the pinnacle of disasters- the most chaotic force in the entire Jedi order. You may be a council member, and you may have my begrudging respect, but you are still Kenobi,” he said darkly.

He laughed. He thinks he started crying

“… another force pregnancy, oh, that is hilarious.”

He laughed harder. Tears streamed down his face.

“I’m taking a fucking holiday.”

He skipped giddily to the council doors, “I’m taking a holiday, because fuck you. I will be back in about a month, maybe two, and some other sucker can do my paperwork because I am not going to read another unbearably useless report- or- or sign another joke with the senate.”

Depa was looking at him in concern, but he didn’t care. He was free! Free from the bloody endless paperwork, and that entire shit storm of a lineage was going to be on the other side of the galaxy!

“Fair well, suckers! You deal with this shit, because I am FREE!”

Obi-Wan watched as Mace practicably danced out of the council room in a wild, desperate, sadistic glee. The man was nearly sobbing, and in his entire life he had never seen Mace Windu shed a tear.

Oops. He’s never caused a mental breakdown before (well… of a previously sane person), but he supposes there’s a first time for everything.

“… That was interesting.”

The council was silent in disbelief.

“… I think you broke my master,” Depa said with wide eyes, “But I can’t blame him. A force pregnancy- are you positive?”

Obi-Wan quirked a brow, “I’ll have you know that I am a proud thirty-eight-year-old virgin.”

The room once again descended into silence. Many of the masters simply stared at him blankly.

“… But you’re so hot,” Kit whispered, “You have men and women walking into walls every time you walk past.”

Do they? He’s never noticed. He’s sure he’s an average looking man, and he’s only getting older. He has quite a few greys in his hair now, and he finds its quite aging. Most of them are from his wayward padawan (Anakin had a perchance for creating diplomatic disasters- he still hasn’t forgotten the time his padawan had accidentally gotten himself sentenced to death by offending a queen, and he had half the planet out for his blood. That had been a nightmare, he still has dreams about it).

He smiled indulgently, “I’ll take your word for it.”

Which he did not.

Yoda’s commlink beeped, and he answered it to a wary looking clone.

“Uh, sirs? The 187^thleft without authorisation or communication and jumped into hyperspace. Should we track them down?”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose in surprise. The man actually did it… he took his troops and left for a holiday. Truthfully, he’s tempted to do the same. But work never stops, and he will never abandon his duty.  

Yoda shook his head in amusement, “Stressed, Master Windu is. Taking a holiday, he must, lest he throw Master Kenobi out the window. Come back, he will, but not yet.”

The clone looked unsure. It wasn’t every day a Jedi master stole a republic cruiser, after all. But Obi-Wan knows Mace will come back, once he rectifies his crisis, of course. The man loves children. Absolutely adores them, and Obi-Wan knows that Mace will love his too.

“Right… Sir.”

The holocom blipped out of existence, and every head in the room turned to Obi-Wan. He was getting nervous. Were they going to throw him out? He didn’t violate the code, and the baby wouldn’t hinder his work at all.

Plo Koon stood up and slowly walked towards him. He paused only a few spaces away, and for a long moment, Obi-Wan could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He fears his judgment as he desperately wants to be accepted by one of his role models.

“I…” he cleared his throat, prepared to defend his baby when the Kel-Dor wrapped him in a hug. Obi-Wan stopped breathing, but then melted into the hold. Plo’s hugs were always warm, and they felt wonderfully safe. It’s no wonder the younglings adore him. He effortlessly emits an aura of kindness. The force around him Is like a moonlit meadow, quiet in its beauty, but calming and peaceful.

The larger man gently squeezed him, “Congratulations, Obi-Wan. This child is a blessing to you and our order.”

A wave of relief crashed over him, and Obi-Wan hugged the older master back.

Plo took a step back, and despite the physical distance, his warmth in the force never left.

He looked meaningfully at his stomach, the man having a weakness for younglings and babies, “May i?”

“Go ahead.”

With the utmost care, the master placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s flat stomach. The force washed over him, centered around the life in his belly.

“…Beautiful,” the master whispered in his deep, vocoded voice, “So much light.”

The master paused then quietly confessed, "I will be the best uncle." And of that, Obi-Wan has no doubt.

The other masters gathered around, silently asking permission. Obi-Wan let them all put a hand on him, either close to his belly or on his back, and the entire council fell into a light meditation.

Kit allowed a single tear to run down his face.

“… After these dark times, I almost forgot what such purity and innocence felt like.”

There were hums of agreement. Peace and warmth radiated in the force, and Obi-Wan honestly felt overwhelmed. He could feel all of the masters caring for him. It was rather intense, but… healing, in a way, to know he is so cared for by his family.

Reluctantly, the masters backed away.

“I take it you won’t be staying in the temple?” Eeth Koth said, a knowing smile on his taupe face.

“I am afraid so. There is still work to be done, but I promised Cody we would only be taking diplomatic or humanitarian missions- nothing dangerous.” Despite his assurances that yes, he would be fine.

Cody glared at him for a full five hours until he caved.

Yoda nodded, “Good, good. Stay safe for your younglings, you will. Many missions we have for you, and trust the clones with your life, I do.”

There was a suspicious twinkle in his eyes, like the master knows something Obi-Wan doesn’t. If there is one thing he has learned about the old master, he will only tell you what he wants to and not a word more, so Obi-Wan doesn’t bother to ask.

“Yes, the 212^this rather protective of my child already,” Obi-Wan agreed, then paused, “Wait, did you say younglings? As in plural?”

The old master just smiled innocently.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and calmly said-

“ANAKIN SYWALKER!”

Chapter Text

It was an odd evening.

That afternoon, he had come back from his enlightening and bewildering visit from the council with happy tears in his eyes and a slight tremor from the cold.

Waxer had immediately swept him into a hug, and although Oni-Wan was not what one would call a ‘hugger’, he couldn’t help but immediately melt into his embrace and start crying in earnest. It… wasn’t his most brilliant idea. For more reasons than one.

“General, what’s wrong?” Waxer said, surprised and panicked, “Did the council upset you again? Did you run out of tea?”

Waxer was near frantic as Obi-Wan sobbed into his shoulder, shushing him and rocking him gently. He hated to admit it but being fussed over was nice. “Sir? Sir, Cody will kill me if you keep crying.”

Unfortunately, Waxer’s gentle pleading only made him cry harder. The mere thought of Waxer, or anyone of his men, dying is horribly heartbreaking. It makes his heart clench, and his body tremble, and his spirit flinch- and- and

Obi-Wan sobbed.

 He should really be in control of his emotions, he’s a Jedi Master for force sake!

But when he thinks about it, none of the other council members acted the slighted bit ‘masterly’ in the meeting. Mace well and truly flipped his lid, Yoda cackled in sadistic glee, Plo hugged his stomach and cried, and Kit quite literally jumped (and backflipped) with joy. So technically, Obi-Wan is just following the council’s example.

Someone growled in displeasure at the mention of Waxer being killed- Boil, presumably. He is never more than two feet away from his batchmate after nearly losing him during the war.

“Aww, general, it’s okay!” Waxer patted his back, “Cody won’t actually kill me. Everything is going to be okay, sir.”

Obi-Wan laughed wetly, hiccupping. A blanket was thrown over his shaking shoulders and was tightly wrapped around his body by a trooper (Again? What was with the blankets?) . He reluctantly burrowed into the warmth.

“It’s okay, Waxer,” he said reassuringly, feeling the troopers doubt. He tried to pat the soldier’s back and failed. He was effectively immobilised in his swaddling of blankets. “They’re happy tears, I promise.” Well, mostly. He blames the hormones.

Waxer made an inquisitive noise.

“My pregnancy…” he trailed off, wonder on his face, “It’s twins.”

Waxer froze. There was a loud clatter.

Cody, standing at the foot of his private ship, dropped his data pad and gaped.  The surrounding clones stared at Obi-Wan, identical expressions of stunned disbelief and joy on their faces.

If possible, the clones became even more protective. The news of the twins nearly caused them to implode, and one small tremor from the cold somehow equated to a verynot-Jedi like wardrobe.

Obi-Wan inched towards the fighter ship and away from the well-meaning but aggressively protective horde of clones. Troopers held an interesting array of offerings out to him. From extra jumpers, vibro-knives and spare com units (and sedatives??), his men had it all. Fortunately, he all needed was his lightsabre, clipped to his belt.

Cody eyed him worriedly. He didn’t miss his honey eyes darting down to his still flat belly.

“Sir…”

“I will be fine,” he reassured his commander, “I’m only visiting Anakin. Nothing will go wrong, and if it does, I am a very capable Jedi Master.”

His reassurances didn’t soothe his commander like he had hoped, but rather made him look even more anxious. Obi-Wan didn’t see the problem. He survived three years of war just fine- he only technically died seven times- and while his padawan can be troublesome, he is loyal and loving to a fault. He trusts him with his life, and while he currently wants to throttle him, he knows Anakin will never let anything happen to him.

And he doesn’t mean to brag but he is the Master of Soresu anda highly recognised war general.

“Skywalker is a cruiser crash on legs, and the two of you together give me at least six pages of paperwork a day,” Cody said flatly. The other clones nod their agreement, no doubt remembering some of the more… creative strategies he and Anakin have executed. Very successfully, might he add.

And it was five pages a day, actually, but he decided to keep that to himself.

He gently smoothed his commanders’ tense shoulders, the man strangely melting under his touch, and gives him a reassuring smile, “I promise you; I will be fine.”

Cody looked like both fond and defeated, heaving a heavy sigh. He rubs his forehead with a leather-gloved hand.

“Fine, go alone.  I would feel better if you agreed to take your security squad with you, or even one brother,” he grumbled, crossing his armoured arms over his chest. He anxiously flittering his eyes over the red head’s form, “Are you warm enough?”

“Possibly the warmest person on this ship,” he said dryly. Half an hour ago he was set to fly a small ship down to Anakin’s apartment (well, Padme’s, but everyone knew it was their apartment) when his ‘protection’ squads pounced on him.

Apparently, Jedi robes weren’t warm enough for Coruscant’s winter, and ‘You’ll get cold, sir! We all know those robes are threadbare, and you’re still underweight! I saw you trembling when you returned from your meeting!’

Hence, the almost ridiculously oversized knit sweater and soft pants. He tried to refuse the garments, but they spent their entire monthly allowance on buying the clothes for him. It was a strangely heartwarming and sweet gesture. His men went out of their way, far beyond that they needed to do, just so he could feel warm.

It would have been rude and cruel to say refuse their offering; his heart couldn’t bear disappointing them. So, he wears the clothes for them. He’s just glad they kept them in neutral colours.

He picked at the soft cream threads of the knit and smiled.

“I will be fine.”

Cody twitched, darkly muttering “I’ve heard that one before.”

His protection squad looked dismayed- the prenatal squad looking equally put out.

Reckoned, a member of the ‘feed the Kenobi squad’, shoved a thermos of tea and a packet of biscuits into his hands. “For the ride down,” Reckoned explained shyly, “I thought you might appreciate something to nibble on. The tea is sweetened chai- one of your favourites, and the biscuits are honey oat.”

Obi-Wan’s heart melted. The trooper remembered. He only said his favourite snack once, and that was years ago. He can’t believe that he still remembered what tea he liked to drink, and his favoured biscuit, after all this time  

Ordinarily, he drank the herbals that Qui-Gon had favoured. Herbals were cheaper for the 212^th’s meagre budget and required less of his very limited time to brew, so he seldom had the chance to indulge during the war. He discovered the tea during his padawan years and had craved it ever since. Satine had been delighted to find that he liked Mandalorian Chai and proceeded to send him buckets of it each year. Tubs of honey included.

“Thank you, Reckoned,” he said, deeply touched, “I’m sure you brewed it perfectly.”

The trooper beamed.

“Thank you, sir! I tried my hardest.”

 Reckoned looked delighted when Obi-Wan took a sip of the tea and practically moaned at the flavour. It truly was brewed to perfection. The spices were warm and tingled his tongue, while the milk made it smooth and creamy. It was sweetened with a Mandalorian specialty honey, making the sweetness deeply complex and almost treacle like.

“This is delicious! Well done, Reckoned, I might have to put you in charge of tea making,” he praised, and the trooper straightened in pride. Obi-Wan was feeling a bit of pride too. That particular brans of chai, like anything Mandalorian, was not simple to execute. His own master, the self-proclaimed tea lord, couldn’t brew it right. And he wouldn’t even let Anakinlookat the leaves in fear of them catching fire.

Reckoned had clearly put a lot of effort into brewing the tea.

He was about to board his ship when Cody purred-

“A sweet tea for a sweet man.”

The hanger had gone suspiciously silent, and Cody froze, his eyes wide. Every clone stared at the stammering man for reasons Obi-Wan couldn’t piece together, but Obi-Wan stared because it was more than a little odd to see Cody tripping over his words so terribly.   

“Uh, I meant—I meant, um, kriffing hells… I think that you’re a good man, sir!” the commander blurted out, uncharacteristically panicked. The commander fidgeted under the gaze of every man in the hanger.

The poor man looked ready to collapse, and he honestly didn’t get why, so Obi-Wan decided to take pity on him.

“Thank you, Cody,” he said kindly, “I think that you’re ‘sweet’ too.”

Waxer and Boil shot Cody a look. Cody was turning an alarming shade of red. He dearly hoped his commander wasn’t getting sick- the troopers would drag him off and isolate him for weeks at this rate, and he would rather Cody be at his side.  

“Are you feeling okay, Cody? You’re quite flushed.”

He felt his commander’s forehead with the back of his hand, humming as he felt heat pouring off the trooper in waves.

“You are very hot. Perhaps you should go to the med bay?”

If anything, Cody became even warmer, and Ob-Wan was starting to get truly concerned. He could swear he heard sniggering in the background, of all things.

“I- I’m fine!” Cody squeaked, and Obi-Wan raised a surprised eyebrow at the display, “Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all, sir.”

Obi-Wan gently felt under his jaw to see if any of his lymph nodes were swollen and traced down his neck. He felt around his ears, collarbone, and skull, gently palpating the heated skin. He didn’t feel any lumps, and he felt healthy in the force…

“If you’re sure,” he agreed, “Then I best be on my way.”

Cody jerked, snapping back into his command position.

“Yes- um, stay safe. Right. Call if you need us, sir.”

The com unit was safely secured to his wrist: accessible and practical.

“I will,” he promised, the smirked, “Unless I’m knocked unconscious.”

One of the clones swore softly, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I was teasing, that won’t happen.” His men, however…

Oh dear, Obi-Wan thought, he best make his escape before they dressed him in armour and bubble wrap.

Cody watched as his general’s ship left the hanger with the vague urge to throw himself off the ship. His cheeks burned and sweat was pouring down his neck in buckets.  

“Want us to take you to the med bay, Cody? You’re looking a bithot.”

Cody buried his head in his hands. His general thought he was sick because he was blushing. He felt up his neck with those beautiful, calloused hands that Cody wanted to feel up something else, and looked at him with big blue doe eyes, so full of kindness and concern for him-

Cody groaned in mortification, “Stop.”

Waxer smirked, “But our sweet general is so worried about you!”

Snickers filled the hanger. He was going to kill them all.

“I can’t believe you called him sweet, Codes! That was the worst attempt at flirting I’ve seen in my life!”

“I know!” he wailed in despair, then whispered, “And he was so damned nice about it.”

Boil patted him on the back, “Don’t worry, your general thinks that you’re pretty sweet.”

He nearly combusted out of embarrassment and joy when Obi-Wan said that. His innocent general thought Cody called him a good man when it was just a colossal flirting failure at Skywalker’s level (he’s heard all about his cringe-worthy meetings with Amidala from Rex), and he said it back. Cody was utterly mortified. Of all the times to be impulsive …

A simple compliment from his general made him stammer, blush and forget all of his CC training like some shiny cadet.

It didn’t help that the man had looked utterly adorable. The knit sweater was oversized and dorky (they had to roll up the sleeves, and Cody nearly passed out), his smaller frame swimming in the fabric. His gorgeous red-gold hair was artfully ruffled, his hands grasping Mandalorian tea, and his pink lips curving into a warm smile.

I think that you’re sweet too.

Even just thinking about it caused him to flush. Again.

Longshot cleared his throat, “… We are sending a squad down, right?”

Cody rolled his eyes. “Obviously. As if I’m going to let that di’kut run around without backup.”

Obi-Wan’s concern for his commander’s odd behaviour was swept from his mind the closer he got to 500 Repuplica. He drummed his fingers against the controls. There was so much to talk about with Anakin, and as much as he wants to throw him out a blasted window, he has the strange urge to hug him.

He gently places a hand over his rock-hard abs, and not for the first time that day (or the tenth), marvels over how he’s actually pregnant.It almost seems like some bizarre dream- or an odd torture- but the little lights he feels beneath his skin are real as he is. And as real as Anakin, who he knows in his bones caused this to happen. He loves Anakin immensely, but he cannot deny that his former padawan has a way with causing frustrating, impossible situations.  

He activates his commlink and Anakin immediately answers, like he was waiting the entire time.

“Obi-Wan, you’re finally here! What took you so long? I was starting to get worried, old man.” Anakin said teasingly. The relief in his voice was clear.

“Oh, I’m quite alright. There’s this headache I have that has been causing me some problems.”

He felt a surge of worry through their bond. Obi-Wan smile fondly. Some things never change.

“You have a headache? Are you sure you should be flying?”

“Oh, I’ve had this headache for the last decade or so. You might be familiar with it- I believe it’s called ’Anakin Skywalker’.”

“Oh, har har master, very funny. Just hurry up.”

He ended their call with a push of a button and gracefully landed his fighter. Anakin was waiting at the platform, his dark robe-clad arms folded peacefully behind his back. He would have looked like a proper Jedi Knight if it wasn’t for the giant grin stretched across his face.

Obi-Wan gracefully leapt out of the fighter, and he must admit he missed the dramatic flourish of his robes. Anakin almost ran to his side with his eagerness.

“Master! I have so much to tell you-,” Anakin skidded to a stop, a startled frown on his face.

“You’re not wearing your robes- what is that?” he said accusingly. Obi-Wan may as well have been naked with how Anakin was acting (meaning a drama queen. He should have enrolled him in theatre). Anakin raked his eyes across his cotton clad body with no small amount of bafflement.

Obi-Wan almost felt shy, like when he was caught trying on his master’s robes at thirteen. At the time, his greatest wish in his world was to be just like his master, clothes included. Unfortunately for him, Qui-Gon did not see it that way in those rocky early days. It was a sign of his ‘immaturity’, not his total worship of his master.  But the sweater was comfortable and meaningful. His men gave it as a gift, and they loved the damn thing. He would wear it to the senate if he wanted with no shame.    

“Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me,” Obi-Wan said dryly, “But for your information, I believe this garment is called a ‘sweater’, and it happens to be very comfortable.”

“I know what a sweater is! But you… why are you wearing one?”

“Am I not allowed to?”

“No!” At Obi-Wan’s pointed gaze Anakin winced, “Well, yes. But I’ve never seen you out of your robes.”

He shouldn’t, but Obi-Wan could not resist teasing his Padawan. Not only was he somehow behind his miraculous pregnancy, but Anakin was outrageously easy to stir up. He falls for his teasing every time, and it never gets old.

“The places where I got ‘out of my robes’ were not suitable for a padawan, or anybody under the age of twenty-one,” Obi-Wan said slyly. As predicted, Anakin’s eyes went wide with horror. Obi-Wan smirked- revenge (ahem, justice) is sweet.

“Master!” Anakin covered his face with his hands, “I did NOT need to know that.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in fond amusement, “I was talking about art classes, Anakin.”

“Art classes?” Anakin said in relief, “What’s so bad about that? And why wasn’t I ever invited?” He scrunched up his nose thoughtfully, and force damn it, his padawan sometimes made it hard to be angry at him when he does cute things like that.

“Nude portraits.”

Anakin went from relieved to horrified in seconds.

“Oh. Oh no.”

Obi-Wan smiled pleasantly, “Indeed. But for your information, the clothes were a gift from my men. It was very kind of them. Now, might you invite me inside or am I going to stand on the landing platform all night?”

Anakin pointed to the door with his metal hand, looking like Obi-Wan turned his entire world upside down. And perhaps he did, he thought ruefully, Anakin can be so oblivious.

They made their way into the sitting room. Obi-Wan settled onto the cushions opposite of Anakin and sipped his tea, having already finished the biscuits.

“Anakin, is there anything you wish to tell me?” he asked mildly, a serene smile on his face.

Anakin stared at him blankly before smiling broadly.

“I made toast for breakfast without catching the toaster on fire!”

“Well done, that’s quite an achievement for you,” he agreed dutifully, but a small smirk made its way to his lips. Anakin was banned from the temple kitchens for very, very good reasons- they never could get the scorch marks off the ceiling.

Anakin smiled proudly, “I know, right?”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard. Perhaps he needed to be a bit more direct if his padawan did not wish to come forwards. He leaned forwards on his cushion, making direct contact with his padawans familiar blue eyes.

“What about children, Anakin?”

Anakin’s face turned a worrying shade of grey.

“Ch-children? What do you mean?” Anakin was completely still, Obi-Wan didn’t even see him breathing. I’m onto something, he thought. Anakin looked two seconds from leaping out the window.

“Babies, infants, younglings…” he listed, narrowing his eyes as Anakin grew even paler, “You have been thinking about them, haven’t you not?”

“N-no!” he denied, but Anakin was always a horrible liar. He was fiddling with his sleeve, biting his cheeks and not quite meeting his eyes. “Why would I want to think about babies? Haha, you’re so ridiculous, master!”

“Why, indeed?” Obi-Wan gently set his precious flask of chai down and prowled around Anakin’s chair dangerously. He could see the sweat rolling down his forehead, and Obi-Wan knew with absolute certainty that he was right.

He leant down until he was whispering in his ear, “Come on Anakin, you can tell me. I know.”

He expected many things to happen.

He did not expect Anakin to burst into frantic tears.

“I’m so, so sorry, master! I know I’ve been really immature and irresponsible lately, but I honestly didn’t think this would happen!” he cried, clutching a bewildered Obi-Wan’s sweater. Obi-Wan absently patted him on the back, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Ah, I suppose it’s alright, padawan. We all make mistakes.”

Anakin was now sobbing into his neck.

“I just wanted some love! And now there is a baby, and I don’t know what to do, master! I went into the creche once and every single one of the younglings despised me. I came out crying! Please help me!”

Obi-Wan awkwardly comforted Anakin, gingerly patting his head. “Of course I will help you, my dearest one. But first, can you tell me how this happened?”

Anakin sniffled and muttered something about ‘prudish Jedi’ under his breath.

“Well, first I got married-“

Wait.

“And to have a baby, Padme and I obviously had to have sex-“

What.

“- which means she’s pregnant. I was going to tell you, honest! But then my mentor turned out to be a sith lord who’s been grooming me since I was nine, and oh boy I think I cried for literal days, and you were on that siege for a month before you passed out and I’ve honestly been panicking so badly and I’m so glad that you’re here!”

Oh, dear force. If his day couldn’t get any worse…

“Anakin,” he said slowly, “Is senator Amidala pregnant?”

“Yes? Isn’t that what we were just talking about?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath in and threw his urge to throttle Anakin into the force. It only partly worked.

“No.”

His padawan cringed and wrung his hands together, “… Oh. Well surprise, I’m going to be a dad, I guess?”

“Congratulations, you’ve truly outdone yourself,” Obi-Wan pinched his nose, “Anakin, did I not tell you repeatedly to use protection and birth control with your sexual partners? This could be a political disaster.”

“I know!” Anakin moaned, his head in his hands, “We even used two condoms! I thought that would make the protection twice as strong…” he protested weakly when he saw the incredulous glare Obi-Wan sent his way.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and clasped his hands in front of his face. He can’t believe he has to lecture his padawan on safe sex at twenty-two.

“… Anakin, that is NOT how condoms work.”

“I know that now!”

“Why did you think that would even work!” Obi-Wan yelled, “You are a mechanical genius- surely you would have realised that friction between two sleeves of latex would produce holes!”

“Yeah, well, how did you not realise that the ‘magic potion’ you drank was freaking drugs?! You were high off your ass, and I had to drag you back to the council while you giggled at the shiny lights and cried over my pencil case because it was ‘too pure for this world’!”

Of course, Anakin would bring that up, again. It was an accident, and he’s endured teasing from everybody for years. Even Mace brings it up, seeing as he dropped onto the man’s lap and curiously stroked his bald head. In his defense, it looked very smooth at the time.  It wasn’t even the worst thing he did…

“I was twenty-six, Anakin! I thought it was alcohol- don’t change the subject! Please tell me you know how condoms work now.”

“Yeah, you use them once, and if they look clean you re-use them.”

Obi-Wan was this close to exploding, but Anakin held up his hands in surrender, “I was joking. I know that you only use them once. I’m not a complete moron.”

Deep. Breathes.

“Thank the force for small mercies,” he said dryly, and sat heavily down on his cushioned chair. Force, he needed a nap. He didn’t even want to think about the marriage. Tomorrow, maybe.

“Wait… if I thought I was talking about Padme’s pregnancy, what were you talking about?”

Dear force, give him strength. Well, he supposed, there was no use in beating around the bush.

“Anakin, I’m pregnant.”

His padawan stared.

“Ur what now.”

“Pregnant, Anakin. And there was no father.”

“…”

Anakin buried his face in his hands and whispered in horror, “Oh my force, I got you pregnant.”

“YOU DID WHAT.”

Both men whirled around to see a very angry senator who immediately marched up to Anakin and started punching him in the arm. “Anakin Skywalker, how could you do this to me! I thought that you loved me!” she raged, then kneed him between the legs. Obi-Wan winced in sympathy as Anakin collapsed to the floor, whimpering.

“Perhaps if I interject- “

“You! I thought you were like his brother, not some- some creepy pedophile!” This time, it was Obi-Wan’s turn to cringe. He can see why she was so horrified if she thought that happened…

On the floor, Anakin whimpered, “Padme… darling, love of my life, light in my soul, my anchor- please listen to me.”

Her dark brown eyes glared down at him, “You have thirty seconds, and you, Master Jedi-“she whirled around, and Obi-Wan found himself taking an involuntary step back, “No. Talking.”

Anakin staggered upright, wincing.

“Padme, I have never ever slept with Obi-Wan, and he’s my like brother? Father? Best friend? I don’t even know. I just know that I never want to see my master naked or even kiss him. Ever. I love you so much that I sometimes cry about it in the shower. You are the most important thing in the universe to me, and I am so excited to meet our baby. Please, trust me when I say that I would never ever cheat on you.”

Padme narrowed her eyes.

“Then how did you get your master pregnant?”

Anakin winced at her incredulous tone, “Remember when I cried because I had no siblings about eight weeks ago? I think the force… listened. And now my master is pregnant. With no father.”

“His very virgin master,” Obi-Wan added helpfully. Both Padme and Anakin stared at him like he had two heads. Why did everybody look at him like that when he says that he’s a virgin? Honestly, there must be some kind of cultural norm he missed in his diplomatic training.

“… I did not expect that.” Padme shook her head, blinking back tears and launching herself into her husband’s arms. “Oh, Ani, I’m so sorry I doubted you. And I’m sorry I yelled at you, Obi-Wan. Your sweater looks very nice.”

Obi-Wan awkwardly accepted the apology, pointedly not looking at the very intimate embrace right in front of him.

Anakin was not awkward with comforting like Obi-Wan is. He held Padme like she was the precious thing in the galaxy, running his hands through her rich, chocolate hair, and pressing sweet kisses against her cheek.

“I forgive you, angel, I can see how you got the wrong idea.”

Anakin paused, turning to face Obi-Wan.

“If I did get you pregnant… what are they? I don’t feel comfortable in saying that they’re my children. It gives the wrong idea...” The three of them collectively shudder. That’s not a thought he wants tin his head, or anyone else’s for that matter.

Obi-Wan looked at his belly thoughtfully.  

“Qui-Gon was the closest thing I had to a father,” he said quietly. Anakin hung on his every word. He hardly ever spoke of Qui-Gon, even when Anakin asked, because it still hurts all these years later. “And if he lived, you would have been his padawan and my brother padawan. Either way, we are family.”

Anakin teared up, “Master… you have no idea what that means to me.”

“I know, Anakin. I know,” he gave his own watery smile back. He’s cried more in the last few days then he had in the last decade. “You could say they are your nieces or nephews due to the age gap, but you proved to be a natural older brother with Ahsoka, and I have no doubt that you would love my babies like siblings.”

Anakin was full own crying now, and to his own horror, so was he. Padme was dabbing her eyes a few feet away, content to give two brothers some space. “I’m getting siblings. As in two?”

“Yes.” That was all he could say without bawling. Anakin gently touched his belly, and pure joy lit up his face when he connected with the lights within.

“… Master, they’re beautiful.”

“Yes, they are. Much like your own children,”  he said warmly, feeling the gentle lights of the twins in Padme’s own womb.

Padme froze.

 Anakin froze.

Oh dear, he thought, what a rollercoaster of a day.

“What,” they both shouted, equally horrified. Obi-Wan shouldn’t have felt as smug as he did at their horror. Suckers.  

“Twins?!”

Obi-Wan gracefully sipped his tea- relishing in their panic.Serves you right, you dramatic crecheling, Obi-Wan thought gleefully, this is what you get for getting me pregnant!

He silenced their frantic squabble with a stern look.

“It appears we have a few conundrums in our hands,” he said gracefully, sipping tea.

“Padme’s lack of prenatal care, for one,” Obi-Wan admonished, because really, he expected senator Amidala to be more responsible than her absolute twit of a husband. They both looked at him sheepishly. He gently touched the lights inside of her and guessed their age. “You would have to be around twelve weeks pregnant; I assume?”

Padme nodded guiltily, chastised. How these two survived the war he did not know. Pregnancy was taught in-depth in the temple, and knows Anakin attended the classes. Whether he listened was another matter entirely. Padme herself was once a queen. She should behave with more common sense then she is now- political scandal be damned.

“I expect you to see a midwife. The lives of you and your children are not as important as a seat in the senate. As for the other issue… I think we may have a sibling conundrum. It’s going to be very difficult to explain how I am pregnant because of you, but we did not have intercourse and they are your siblings.”

Anakin made a face, “Details, details.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Trust Anakin to be so casual about this conundrum.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan scolded, but to his surprise he found Padme saying it with him. They looked at each other in the eye, surprised, before wearing matching grins. Padme walked gracefully towards him and linked their arms.

“Master Kenobi, might you join me for some tea?”

“Why certainly, my dear sister in law.”

Obi-Wan found himself grinning as Anakin’s jaw hit the floor, “Hey, where are you going!”

“Tea,” they said together, mater of factly, already walking away.

“But-“

“No buts, dear husband, you got both of us pregnant- I really need to phrase that better- and Master Kenobi seems to be in some need of some friendship.”

“But I-“

Padme placed a delicate finger on Anakin’s lips and poked his cheek, “No.”

Obi-Wan waved at his padawan, “Do keep out of trouble. No flames, cooking, alcohol, illegal pod racing, or liberating minimum wage workers. I believe the senator and I are late for a beautiful friendship, and we would rather not pick you up from jail. Again.”

Anakin flailed, looking utterly flabbergasted at the sudden turn of events, “What are you going to talk about? Why can’t I come?”

“It’s a pregnancy thing, darling,” the senator reassured, then turned her attention to the redhead, “Tell me, Obi-Wan, have you been throwing up?”

Obi-Wan sighed, “All the time. It’s like I’m allergic to smells.”

“I know. I can’t even stand the smell of caff… Do you want some sweets?”

Force, that sounded wonderful. He’s been on an emotional rollercoaster, and nothing in the galaxy sounds better than some donuts, fruit tartlets and ice-cream. He told her as much, and she beamed at him. He knew this was the beginning of a lifelong friendship, bonding over the woes and wonders pregnancies, and the trail of disasters that Anakin Skywalker leaves in his wake.

Anakin stared at the spot where his wife and Master (brother?) where standing moments before.

They were now friends. Drinking tea. Talking about their pregnancies. Caused by him. Twins. Babies. Siblings. His mind whirled in a panic.

His wife and his master…

“What have I done!” he cried, sinking to the floor, “They’re going to murder me!”

Chapter Text

At first, it was rather endearing. Surprisingly sweet. Cute. The entirety of the 212^thfollowed Obi-Wan around like ferociously protective ducklings. He had a gaggle of troopers follow him literally everywhere.

You see, Obi-Wan loves his privacy and independence. If he wasn’t a negotiator Jedi, he would very happily hide away in the achieves or explore ancient temples until he turned to dust, or volunteer at the creche. He prefers books to parties, art to war (though he can’t help but admit that he's fantastic at devising wildly successful tactical plans and blowing up whole enemy ports on his own), and fighting his own battles to being coddled.

Unfortunately, the clones hadn’t quite grasped the idea that Jedi Master Kenobi can look after himself and would very much like to before he strangles the entire ship out of sheer frustration.

 __________________

It started small.

A cup of steaming tea shoved in his hands every quarter or so. His sturdy chair in the command room mysteriously ‘going missing’, and the very next day some padded monstrosity shows up in its place. Oops ‘accidently’ spilled bleach on his gourmet coffee supply, and an entire shelf of different tea flavours popped up in the mess hall overnight.

It wasn’t bad. He could deal with some over protectiveness. But then, they got a bit too… enthusiastic. And that would not do.

Obi-Wan stared with wide eyes at his bedroom. Or rather, what should be his bedroom. His little durasteel shoebox was absolutely coated in blankets and pillows from floor to ceiling. Masses of pillows spilled out of the door in a flood, and he honestly couldn’t tell where his bed was anymore. His bedroom (pillow closet?) is just blankets- blankets everywhere.

“… Master Mundi, I might have to call you back.”

The Cerean Master frowned briefly before his lips twitched into a smirk. “Are your ducklings causing more havoc?”

Havoc is a word for it. He’s had four council meetings since his pregnancy reveal, and each and every one of them he’s turned up in those fuzzy sweaters because the laundry droids supposedly lost his entire wardrobe of robes.

“I suppose so,” he said dryly, watching as another pillow mountain destabilised and poured out the door, “We can finish our discussion on the adding a Stewjoni section in the Temple gardens another day. I need to clear a path into my bedroom.”

It was almost ridiculous. How did they even get so many blankets into one room? He can see dozens upon dozens of various colours and textures stuffed into his room, and they really shouldn’t have been able to physically fit.

“Clear a path… into your bedroom?” The Jedi master’s lips twitched, and before he could break out into laughter Obi-Wan smooshed the comm button and ended the call. Force, the entire council will know within the hour, and they’ll gossip about it like grannies for the next week.

He attempted to shift some of the pillows away from the entrance only to get buried in an avalanche of cushions. He was covered head to toe in the damn things, and he couldn’t even see a ray of light. He struggled futilely as the pillows kept pouring out the door and smothering him, and he was seconds away from blasting them all with the force when the pillow mountain shifted, and a blinding pocket of light beamed directly into his eyes like a nefarious laser. He squinted, and then realised that an armoured hand shoved itself into the pile.

“Need a hand, sir?”

Obi-Wan squirmed until he could move his arm and he eagerly grasped the offered hand. In one smooth movement, Obi-Wan was pulled out of the cursed pile and into the arms of Commander Cody. He was too stunned to move for a moment, because for one thing, his commanders’ arms felt shockingly nice, and for another, he was rescued from a pile of pillows. Pillows.

He sprung away and cleared his throat, “Cody, why is my room flooded with pillows and blankets?”

“Well, the men were worried that you were getting cold at night since it isn’t connected to the central heater. I authorised Riceball and Sushi to acquire supplies to ensure you stayed warm at night, while Quarters insisted on decorating.” Cody shifted and briefly looked at his feet, “Do- do you like it? Uh- sir.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. Right, this all came from the good place in their hearts, and it would be awfully cruel to outright declare that he despised it.  

“It’s… very kind of you. Thoughtful. But Cody, how am I supposed to get in my room so I can sleep?”

Cody stared at the bedroom in consideration, and then looked at the mountain of pillows that savagely tried to kill Obi-Wan.  

“Huh,” he said brightly, “I didn’t think of that. Fuck.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

His bedroom wasn’t the only thing invaded. It was his mealtimes too.  

“- a large bantha steak, steamed greens and grilled garlic tubers,” Delish said, placing the truly enormous plate in front of Obi-Wan. The ‘large steak’ was the size of his head and Obi-Wan’s stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of even eating half that amount.  “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“A smaller plate would be nice, actually.”

Delish gasped, scandalised.

“Sir!” he admonished, “Helix specified that you must eat 200mg of iron per day- you know, anaemia isn’t good for the little vod’s in there. Your blood won't transport oxygen to them, and they’ll die.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan said agreeably, because even the temple healers were on his case about his iron levels, “But can’t I have the iron in tablet form? I don’t think I can eat this much.”

As if by magic, pills rained down onto the table.

“Of course, sir! Bandages prescribed you a range of prenatal vitamins, but he also wants you to eat five and a half thousand calories a day,” Delish continued, gloriously oblivious to Obi-Wan’s growing horror. Four and a half thousand calories- do they want to put him in a coma? “I cooked this meal for you, sir, and we sourced all the best ingredients. We don’t want you to die. Do you like it?”

Delish was looking excruciatingly hopeful. The clone was obviously a younger one- he didn’t look old enough to even be on the negotiator with his lanky limbs and wide, hopeful eyes. He had a sneaking suspicion Cody planned this, the traitor.

“Um.”

“And if you’re still hungry, I made some extra tubers!”

“Er,” he said, intelligently.

“They’re very buttery, you know. I think I used an entire kilo of it. Fats good for you so I gave you lots because I-”

“Don’t want you to die,” Obi-Wan finished for him. It’s a lot to unpack. Clearly, this young man was nearly hyperventilating at the thought of him dying. So he gave him lots of butter because it was somehow classed as healthy. Qui-Gon would be rolling in his grave at the sight of so much butter, the tubers were literally dripping with it. He always read too many fitness magazines and was a devout eater of everything lean and green. And it showed, oh how it showed.  His master had razor sharp abs that actually broke a mercenary’s hand when he punched his master’s stomach. Abs of steel, he called them.

He only came in here to grab a protein bar and high tail it into the meditation room.

“Right,” Obi-Wan said slowly, “How about I take my vitamins first?”

And give himself time to escape, he thought wryly.

Delish pointed to each vitamin, listing them off.

“- and this is iodine, this is iron, this is vitamin C, and this one here is your vitamin D, and this one here is your folic acid!”

“Thank you, Delish, but I think I’ve already had the folic acid today. I’ll take the rest.”

Delish went white as a sheet, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. It was mildly concerning.

“… You already had folic acid today?” he whispered.

“… Yes? Delish, are you okay? Maybe you should go to the med bay.”

The moment he said ‘med bay’, the poor lad started muttering prayers under his breath. Delish was full on shaking. His knees were knocking together, his hands fluttering like bird wings, and beads of cold sweat dripping down his brow. Obi-Wan was seriously worried. After all, what could frighten him this badly?

Suddenly, the doors burst open and a SWAT team rushed into the small meeting room. They were dressed in medical scrubs and armed with textbooks thicker than his waist. Delish started crying.

“I’m sorry General,” he wailed, “I failed you!”

What in the galaxy is going on? The entire ship had gone mad! Delish was getting restrained by medical tape and Obi-Wan had no clue what happened at all.

“Delish!” One of the senior medical officers, Screech, barked, “You violated section three, paragraph four, five, six and seven of the Kenobi Health and Safety Management Plan! I should have you court-martialled for your recklessness.”

“I know!” Delish said hysterically, “I didn’t realise he had already taken a folic acid tablet. I didn’t read his medication chart properly. He nearly ingested another. He could have died, and it would have been all my fault!”

What.

“Hang on a moment,” Obi-Wan began, “isn’t this going a bit too far?”

Screech shook his head sadly.

“We don’t encourage the reckless endangerment of your life, sir. By an enemy, a vod, or even by you.”

“It was a folate tablet,” Obi-Wan said desperately, “Completely harmless. Nothing to worry about.”

“Priority number one: protect the general. He failed,” Screech said darkly, “Alright men, take him away!”

“Take him awaaaaay!” they parroted back, “To the med-baaay! No more escape, take him awaaaay.”

Delish was marched out of the room, sobbing his apologies to Obi-Wan while they sang to some unknown tune. The medical officers were reading him phrases from the textbooks, and one of them strapped his arms together using blood pressure cuffs while another lead him with a stethoscope. It felt surreal.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Obi-Wan demanded, eyes wide, “I won’t allow him to be punished over that.”

Screech waved him off.

“It’s not a punishment, sir. He’s just going to have a sixteen-hour course on pregnancy health, a ten-hour course on Kenobi Wrangling-“ ‘Kenobi Wrangling’? What even- “And earn a minimum score of 85% on a three hundred and seventy-five question multiple-choice exam. Nothing bad.”

“Nothing bad- don’t you think this is going too far?”

Obi-Wan looked into Screech’s topaz yellow eyes for any traces of humour, because surely this was a joke.

“Nope.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Obi-Wan, in bafflement, and Screech, in solemness.   

“… Are you going to eat your snack?”

Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped. Dread curled in his stomach. “…It’s only a snack?”

“Damn right, it is,” Screech said proudly, and Obi-Wan immediately thought ‘thanks, I hate it,’, and backflipped into the air vents when Screech wasn’t looking. “We have about five of those for you to eat a day- General? General, where did you go? We have cupcakes!”

________________________________________________________

His tea date with Padme was going so well. He vomited. She vomited. Cucumber sandwiches were mutually rejected with vehement disgust. Anakin called three times in two hours. They cried when a nearby baby smiled at them. It was great- wonderful even, because somebody shared his pain about his sudden hatred for certain foods. Padme was dealing with a well-meaning but disastrous Anakin, and Obi-Wan had an entire ship of overprotective duckling. Then his comm burst to life and-

“General, NO! You can’t eat unpasteurised cheese- do you know what listeria does to babies?? Gods, what a nightmare- put that cracker down right now or I swear I’ll sick Helix on you-“

___________________________________________________________________________-

He’s gotten used to having a minimum of two men follow him around coruscant. It’s… vaguely offensive, but for now he tolerates it. They’ll calm down. Hopefully.

The kindly old tea vendor hands him a warm and steaming cup of Naboo lavender tea. He inhales its decadent fragrance with a dreamy smile- thisis what he’s been craving all week. Lavender tea is commonplace on Coruscant, but only one vendor makes tea this excellent, and he only knows about from when Qui-Gon literally fell into Jeoff’s stall.

“That’ll be five credits. Want ta add s’me suga’?”

Searching through his bag took up much of his brain capacity so he managed a vague ‘hmhm’. He was still searching for his credits when Tamp tackled the tea vendor to the floor and Double Shot flung his tea over a crosswalk. Obi-Wan spared a second to mourn the loss of his tea before he whirled around, furious. 

“What do you think you’re doing!” The clones shrank back, and the tea vendor gave a muffled plea for help. “Tamp, get off the tea vendor and apologise!”

“But sir, he was poisoning you- he slipped a tablet into your drink!”

The old twi-lek screeched in anger and thrashed, almost foaming at the mouth. “Twas a suga’ pill, ye brick headed hooligans!”

“It was… a sugar tablet.” Tamp froze and slowly looked at his brother in horror.

“Yes! Now, get off me before ma wife rips ye balls off with ‘er pliers!”

Tamp jerked away like he’d been burned.

Obi-Wan was mortified. His men have never acted this out of line, and they’ve never ever assaulted an innocent civilian before! He’s known Jeoff for eighteen years, and he’s never seen his green skin turn that shade of pumice before. The old man climbs to his feet, nearly spitting fire. 

“I deeply apologise for your horrific mistreatment. Please, if there is anything I can do to rectify any physical or emotional damage-“

Another cup of tea was thrust at Obi-Wan. He hastily took it, wilting under his fiery gaze. Tamp and Double Shot looked at their feet guiltily. So they should be, Obi-Wan thought furiously, for assaulting a civilian.

“Get those buffoons of yer’s under control, Kenobi! No tea ‘til they can behave like responsible adults!”

“But-“

“No. More. Tea! Begone, you fiend, and that’ll be ten credits.”

Obi-Wan dumped his entire credit bag and ran.

______________________________________________________________________

One mugger tried to point a blaster at his stomach, because he did look like somebody’s defenseless grandfather swaddled up in a cashmere sweater, and, well-

The mugger is still in the psychiatric facility. Obi-Wan sent him flowers, and the poor man read the ‘try to hurt our general again and there will be no bones to bury’ note attached and promptly volunteered for a charity organisation on a remote planet, on the other side of the Galaxy.

_________________________________________________________________

The final straw happened in the senate building. He gave them explicit orders to not follow him and allow him privacy with Senator Organa. Sensitive matters, and all.

Bail was a dear old friend of his, and he was taking the news of his pregnancy rather well. Considering it was miraculous and outrageous and frankly impossible.

Bail sipped his tea and shook his head.

“So Anakin…  he what?”

“He caused the pregnancy, yes.”

 Bail blinked slowly, he was oddly pale. “But, he’s not the father?”

“Force above, I hope not.” Bail heaved a relieved sigh, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘Kenobi-Skywalker antichrist babies crisis averted.

“So, they’re his siblings? Cousins? I don’t understand how this works if he’s not the father, but he unintentionally created them.”

Honesty, neither does he. Neither does Anakin- for force sake, Master Yoda just smiles and downs his vodka bottle. He decides it would be best if he could tactfully avoid the subject.

“I hear that you are a popular contender for serving as the next galactic chancellor.”

Bail wiggles in his seat with suppressed happiness, a bright smile lighting up his face. “It seems all of my campaigning for peace, equality and justice is paying off. If I do become the chancellor, I plan to reinstate some anti-corruption regulations and to-“

The roof cracked open and a dozen troopers fell from the ceiling. Bail spilled hot tea onto his crotch and swore fiithily while Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes.

This ends today.

______________________________________________

Obi-Wan called an emergency meeting the moment he arrived on the Negotiator. He stormed down the corridors with a dangerous air, his blue eyes icy cold. The shinies jumped out of his way as Obi-Wan stopped for nobody, exchanging no pleasantries or smiles. He was like steel, frozen in his absolute fury.

By the time he got to the largest of the landing bays, mostly empty of ships, the bay was already packed with clones. They stood ramrod straight and not a single man made a sound.

“It has come to my attention that there has been a grievous misunderstanding between us. I was under the impression that my trusted troopers, my friends, would protect me from harm as they so declared. I did not express permission for stalking, coddling, blatant violations of my privacy and control over my personal life, including the clothes I wear, and how I decorate my bedroom.”

A handful of the troopers visibly winced, and Cody himself was sweating bullets, looking close to passing out.

“Furthermore, I do not condone the attitude that I cannot look after myself. Yes, I can sometimes forget to eat or drink, and as Cody ever so eloquently puts it, I can be ‘hopelessly naïve and trusting’. But I am a Jedi Master with decades of experience under my belt and a general of three years. I am capable and strong, and I will not allow you to treat me like a child.”

Many of the men looked at their feet in shame, and while Obi-Wan has no desire to hurt their feelings, he must not let this go on. It is stressful or rude, and helps nobody.

“I appreciate the efforts of the 212^thhave exerted for my safety. Many of you have gone above and beyond, and while I am glad that you care, you need to give me the privacy and respect that I give to you. I am not asking you to abandon all your efforts, or to stop caring. I am finding your current behaviour overbearing and frustrating, yet I understand your need to keep me and my children safe. So, I have come to negotiate.”

It was dead silent. Half of the men looked absolutely petrified, and he thinks he sees one brother fanning another who passed out on the floor.

“No?” he tries. He scans the hordes of troopers, and not one of them looks ready to speak up. Cody looks concerningly pale.

“Well then, I shall begin. I do not want men following me. I do not need my two guards, nor do I need squadrons following me in the shadows- yes, I knew you were there the entire time. I control my wardrobe, and my possessions are not to be touched without my permission. Whilst my new chair is comfortable, I would have appreciated you asking me first. There will be no more rushing to the medbay when I so much as stub my toe. Any counter offers?”

Cody bravely steps forwards despite his pale sheen.

“How about one clone, minimum, in unfamiliar surroundings or hostile situations?”

Obi-Wan played with the idea in his head. On one hand, he would rather not have a tail. But on the other hand, Cody’s proposition is reasonable and logical.

“Agreed. But no squadron unless the situation is hostile.”

“Acceptable, sir. I admit, we have gone too far. We will not violate your privacy and we will respect your boundaries. It’s just that as brothers, we aren’t used to boundaries and privacy and pregnancies. It’s all so new. We all know that you’re capable, sir. One of the best kriffing Jedi in the galaxy, and us clones are proud to have you as our general, even if we have acted disgracefully.”

Obi-Wan allows a small smile to grace his features at Cody’s confession.

“Thank you. I appreciate that you admitted your mistakes.  Does anybody else wish to negotiate the new terms?”

Surprisingly, somebody did. It seems like Cody taking the first step pushed everybody else into action. The trooper bravely stepped forwards- his armour is a wild meshwork of orange paint spaning his entire body.

“General, I say you should have more than one clone with you. What if you get put in force suppressants? You won’t be able to defend yourself.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, because really? “Did you not hear the ‘Jedi Master’ part, trooper…?”

The bold trooper straightened his spine, “The name is Gift, sir. And ‘Jedi’ is a part of it. I know that you can sense attacks, fight blindfolded, increase your strength, move fast, and throw people without even touching them. But what if that was taken away?”

Obi-Wan blinked owlishly, “… I fight. Like I was trained to do. For over a decade. By various masters in combat.”

Not only was he trained by Qui-Gon, but Obi-Wan has spent time with Mandalorian warriors before they tried to kill him for a year, the Stewjoni tribesmen, and a dozen or so bounty hunters undercover. Needless to say, he is damned good at hand to hand. He may not use it often- he prefers to prevent the fight from even starting. Though he much prefers the surety of the force and the elegance of his saber, if it came down to it, he could wipe the floor with half of his battalion.

Gift scoffed, and Obi-Wan hated to say it, but this one was rather, well, arrogant.

“With all due respect, general,” Gift said condescendingly, “I don’t think you would last a minute in a fight with us if you didn’t have the force.”

Oh. Oh dear. Well, he’s going to have to fix that, isn’t he? He could see that most of the clones looked ready to throw Gift under a speeder, but a few looked at him considering.

If he can’t convince his men he can handle himself with logical arguments, he’s going to have use aggressive negotiations.

“My dear, is that a challenge?”

“Um.”

But Obi-Wan wasn’t letting this go. He smiled pleasantly and folded his hands behind his back.

“Cody, please hand me your force suppressants cuffs.”

Cody eyed him warily. Obi-Wan stared at him pointedly. And kept on staring without blinking until the man cracked. Cody handed over the cuffs with great reluctance and Obi-Wan fastened one onto each of his wrists, but he didn’t activate the magnetism that would bind his hands together.

The suppression cuffs were strong. It was like being in a sensory deprivation tank, and all his sensors were weaker. He could no longer feel the warm buzz of the 212^thor the warm currents of the force, whispering him secrets. It wasn’t ideal, but he’s fought with a lot worse.

Cody’s Jettii was a lot of things.  He was kriffing gorgeous, for one thing. He has this mane of red hair that blazes in the sun like liquid gold, and this mischievous smirk that makes his heart squiggle in his chest, and bottomless blue eyes that Cody could drown in.

He’s smart as a whip. Snarky. Sarcastic. A damned troll, and Manda help him, but watching Obi-Wan screw with the separatists to see them burn themselves is sexy as hell. 

He’s also unbearably stupid.

He gets kidnaped, and stabbed, and wonders off in the middle of the night and returns weeks later, forgets to eat, trips off the edge of cliffs and accidentally locks himself in closet freezers without his lightsabre. And now he wants to fight the 212^th(nothing new there, honestly), but without the force.

He knows about Jedi. Kinda. They live and breathe the force (whatever that is), and the spew all kinds of shit like ‘I am one with the force’ like that makes any sense. But clearly, cutting a jettii off from the force is very not good, and Cody would very much like for this not to happen. 

But Obi-Wan had stared at him. He could see why Grievous ran the hell away, because those eyes could make you do anything. His general was merrily clipping the suppressant cuffs around his wrists like they were high fashion while he and literally everyone else on the ship watched in a numb sort of horror.

“General… are you sure this is the best idea? You are pregnant.”

His general smiled far too cheerily for his liking.

“It’s a splendid idea, my dear commander! What better way to display my combat prowess than to wipe the floor with your men? And we talked about this: pregnant, not helpless.”

He swallowed. He was going to give Gift so much paperwork that it will be coming out his ass. The trooper has been here for hardly 6 months, but he thinks he’s Kamino’s gift to Clone Kind, which is exactly where he got his name from.

“We’re not doubting your capabilities, sir, but pregnancy makes people fragile.”

“Oh, does it?” Obi-Wan said, his voice smooth as silk, and the Jedi prowled closer, his eyes dangerous. It was like being stalked by a jungle cat. “Tell me more, since you seem to know all about what pregnant people can and can’t do.”

Ah, kriff. Now he’s made it worse. Cody scrambled and mentally screamed.

“What I mean is that, that- what if we hurt you? One of us could punch the babies, or- or break your neck- or we could-“

“Or I could take down half a dozen men in two minutes. And I will.” The Jedi looked serene in a way that could definitely kill you. “Now, everybody makes a circle. Hold hands if you need to. A bit larger- ah yes, that’s perfect.”

Then the Jedi grinned, teeth and all, and it was terrifying.

“Gift,” he said lightly, “Step into the circle, and please demonstrate how helpless I am without the force.”

The clones whispered amongst themselves.

Kriffing jettii is actually going to fight the moron.

I bet Gift will last ten seconds- no, twelve.

Twelve? Come on, he beats me in every match. At least thirty, if he doesn’t win.

Yeah, the general doesn’t have the force. Doesn’t stand a chance against us clones. We’ve trained for years.

Ah, that poor, innocent shinie never sparred with the general and left with bruises.

Bets were flying across the circle with credits and lollies as the prize. Cody is far too mature to participate in such trivialities. Still, he bets ten seconds before Gift is a whimpering blob on the floor.

“Are you ready, Gift?”

Obi-Wan sinks into ready position, smooth and graceful. He’s got a gleam in his eye and a tilt to his smile that tells Cody Gift is never going to be ready for this.

The trooper puffs out his chest, a little stupidly. He was about to fight General Kenobi- famous amongst all of the vode for his competency, and he looked far too sure of himself.

“Sure I am, General.”

All Cody could think that if he had said his last rites yet.

The faced each other in the ring while troopers cheered and goaded Gift onwards. Cody wished he brought a datapad with him or something to hold onto for grim death because he thought he had some valid arguments about the pregnancy. The medics were hyperventilating in the background.

He heaved a sigh, there was no stopping Obi-Wan now.

“Begin.”

Gift immediately rushed at the General with a solid form. He through a devastating punch, and this kid wasn’t too bad when-

Obi-Wan caught his fist with both hands. Like lightning, he twisted Gift’s captured arm outwards until he was forced to bend over before his arm snapped. Obi-Wan flipped upside down in a flash and locked his thighs around Gift’s neck. Before Gift could so much as breathe, Obi-Wan fluidly swung downwards and used his momentum to throw Gift face up on the floor. He was in a chokehold the next blink later- choked by Obi-Wan’s leg.

Cody blinked. That was hardly even two seconds and a trained trooper was dazedly smooshed into the floor. The vod fell dead silent except for a faint ‘omg hot’.

“I… surrender,” Gift gasped, “You win.”

Obi-Wan releases him immediately and Gift crawls away on his hands and knees, gasping. “Excellent,” he beams, “Waxer, Boil, Wooley, and Snacc, fancy a round?”

“Um,” Snacc says, slowly chewing his carrot sticks, “Sir?” Snacc discreetly side-eyed Cody, his eyes begging for help, but Cody was shaking his head. They brought this on themselves.

“What even was that?” Wooley questions, “I’ve never seen you fight that way before.”

“Excellent question. That was jii-itsu, a form of martial arts practiced by Tribesmen my home planet, Stewjon. It involves swift movements and using the momentum of my opponents against them. I also practice Makarte, Noi-Tai, Tai-Quondo, Vudo, Aiketo, ninjitsue and wrestling. It makes me quite formidable, as you’re likely starting to realise. Master Jedi and all.”

Cody didn’t even know what half of those were. But if he could take down the four clones, Cody’s going to get on his knees and beg him to teach him.  Among other things that he may or may not dream about.

Waxer rushed headfirst into the ring with a more cautious Boil hot on his heels. Wooley tenaciously toed in, while Snacc had his food confiscated and was thrown in headfirst.

They sunk down into fighting position. Cody was a little worried, he always was, but he has to prove he can trust Obi-Wan. He squashed down the protective instructs that urged to him roll Obi-Wan in a blanket, and stepped back into the role of a marshal commander.

“Begin.”

This time, Obi-Wan attacked first. He struck like lightning.

He flung himself into the arms of Snacc, one arm under Snacc’s own. It looked like a sure way to get himself held in an arm lock when Obi-Wan hit the ground and threw Snacc over his shoulder. Snacc hit the ground hard and rolled away, but Obi-Wan was already up and fighting. Snacc was punched in the face, and while he was briefly blinded by pain, Oni-Wan roundhouse kicked Wooley hard enough to make him sail into the audience.

Waxer and Boil faced Obi-Wan together, and Cody felt a flicker of hope. Surely two expertly trained clones could face off against one force blinded Jedi?

But Obi-Wan smiled, and suddenly he wasn’t so certain anymore.

Obi-Wan sank down onto one leg and kicked the other around Boil’s ankles and yanked. Boil lost the fight with gravity and stumbled, his bulkier mass weighing him down.

Snacc came at Obi-Wan from behind and managed to land a hit on his face, but lightning-fast, a knee was in his groin and an elbow struck his cheek. Obi-Wan flipped backwards and landed neatly on the shoulders of Waxer. He locked his thighs around Waxer’s left arm. He swung downwards, and like with Gift, Obi-Wan’s momentum sent him sprawling onto the floor.

Obi-Wan neatly rolled to his feet. He blocked a barrage of strikes from Boil, tripping a renewed Waxer with his feet, grabbed Boil’s arm, and flung his entire body over Obi-Wan’s shoulder in an impressive display of strength. He nearly got a nose bleed when he lifted Waxer with one arm and slammed him to the ground.

Wooley stumbled back with raw determination in his narrowed eyes. Obi-Wan ran at him and kicked him in the chest. He stumbled and grunted in pain but held his ground. Obi-Wan’s next roundhouse kick was caught, and despite his struggles, he was thrown onto the floor with a crash. Cody winced and tried not to rush in and help his Jedi.

He rolled. A series of punches incredibly fast were lethally rained onto Wooley’s right arm. Wooley cried out in alarm as his arm hung limp, unresponsive. In his confusion, he was easily knocked down with a vicious uppercut to the jaw.

Obi-Wan blocked punches from Waxer and body-slammed him to the floor, and nimbly dicked under a roundhouse kick from Boil. He grabbed his leg, twisted it, and elbowed him in the side, sending is crashing downwards.

They all stayed down. Cody was very impressed with the fight, very disappointed in his men, and uncomfortably turned on. Those thighs could kill a man… literally.

Wooley panted, pocking his arm in alarm. “… General, I can’t feel my arm. What the kark was that?”

“Pressure points. I could have gone for the neck and immobilised your whole body, or struck the point at your temple to knock you instantly unconscious, but that would have been quite rude.”

Obi-Wan said it so casually, so airily, that it was almost frightening. He’s fought in countless battles with this man, but now he’s starting to realise that Obi-Wan might be far more competent than he lets on. It doesn’t explain how he still gets kidnaped, stabbed, and lost in forests when he has these vicious skills, but it sure the hell makes him worry just that bit less.

Wooley swallowed audibly, “Glad you didn’t, sir.”

Obi-Wan smiled like a shark. He gracefully unclipped the suppressor cuffs, having never locked them, and elegantly tossed them to Cody. He caught them mindlessly, brain stuck on those thighs around the vod’s neck- it could be his neck instead of Gift's, and there would be no clothes on his Jedi's sculpted, delicious thighs as Cody leaned towards- and nope, nope, do not, abort, bad idea-

Cody bit the inside of his mouth so hard he bled.

“Next time, maybe?”

“Absolutely not, sir, I’m never underestimating your ability to throw me to the ground ever again.”

Murmurs of agreement flooded the landing bay as over two hundred clones stood dumbfounded. Boil was helped to his feet by Riceball, while Waxer and Snacc just laid on the floor.

“Good,” Obi-Wan smirked, “Does anybody else think I’m helpless and fragile?”

Every clone took a step backwards, some tripping over in their haste.

“I’m going to make some tea, go see Bail on my own and eat an entire extra-large box of cheesy tubers because I can. Enjoy the rest of your morning, boys,” Obi-Wan winked, and Cody nearly called for a medic because his heart skipped about seven beats, and he sauntered smoothly out of the bay. Little Gods, even his walk is devastatingly hot- those swaying hips look like they would perfectly fit under his hands and Cody just wants to lay on the floor and cry for a bit.

The landing bay was dead silent except for Snacc whimpering on the floor. Sushi quietly pushed a packet of chips into his hands, and the whimpering stopped as the packet rustled.

“So,” Boil said dazedly, “That happened.

“Yup.”

“He wiped the floor with us. Effortlessly.”

“In a cashmere jumper and trackie pants,” Waxer added helpfully, “Did you see his socks? They were pink. With little blue lightsabres on them.”

Gift was staring despondently at the floor. Cody felt zero sympathy at all. They had it coming, with how they were acting.

“… Should we put his robes back?”

“Definitely.”

“And the protection laws?”

Cody sighed… “Abolished. We have to trust the general to feed himself. Mostly,” he amended, remembering that the stubborn man can get lost in time and forget to eat, “and we need to respect his boundaries and decisions, even if we don’t like them, or we’re going to drive him away.”

The men nodded solemnly, ashamed at how they had acted before Obi-Wan literally pounded some sense into them. A new set of rules would be drafted- this time, actual reasonable, sane ones that a nat-borne wouldn’t have them arrested over.

“… What about the Kenobi Squad, should we-“

“NO!” two hundred clones cried at once, “Did you see what he just did? We’d be mincemeat!”

“But those thighs?”

The entire landing bay groaned. God those thighs were sculpted by the God of Hot Ass, and they were used to fight them. It was Cody’s dream come true. It was a Mandalorian’s dream come true.

 Let’s just say the showers are going to be very busy in the next hour, even if Cody was the only one in love with that stubborn, gorgeous man.

Chapter Text

Twenty-six-year-old Obi-Wan was on his first mission with Anakin, and it hardly even counted as a mission. Still, Obi-Wan nervous. His teeny, tiny, precious Padawan was too little to go down into the big, bad lower levels with him. He’s so tiny and sweet with cute little cheeks and big blue eyes and these missing front teeth that makes him lisp a bit, and he’s just tiny. Anakin is so sweet for a ten-year-old, so thoughtful- he broke into the mechanics room just so he could build him a cleaning droid because Obi-Wan always forgets to do the dishes.

But he’s handling this just fine. He didn’t cry in his bedroom- Anakin’s growing up so fast, it’s already the first mission, where did the time go, he’s already ten, and deep breaths Kenobi- and he 100% didn’t eat half a chocolate cake on his own. He didn’t. (He did, and it was damned delicious. Zero regrets).

A hand slapped him on the upper back, making him stagger forwards.

“Relax, Obes,” Quin-Lan drawled, the nickname making him grit his teeth with annoyance, “You’re so stiff. You need to loosen up a bit- maybe go see some strippers. Or I could give you an exotic massage, if you catch my drift.”

“Absolutely not.”

“To the strippers? Because my hands can work some magic if you let me near your-“

“Feet!” Obi-Wan interrupted, shooting a dirty glare at his smirking friend, “If I let you near my feet.”

Almost in sync, Anakin and Aayla roll their eyes. He wouldn’t want to hear about a foot massage either, if he was them, so he doesn’t tell them off.

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe he could turn back to the temple? It wasn’t too late. He could do some nice calming mediation with Anakin, and teach him all about Alderanian geese, or re-do his scruffy (adorable) padawan braid.

“Why did I invite you again?” Obi-Wan moaned, “You’re a menace.”

“You love me,” Quin-Lan said smugly, “And besides, you need me. You have no idea about alcohol at all because Qui-Gon only let you have slushies and water at the bars, so now I have to teach you about the wonderful world for getting absolutely plastered.”

“Do I really though?” Obi-Wan muttered under his breathe.

Quin-Lan swung an obnoxious arm over his shoulder and pulled him close, ruffling his hair that he spent twenty minutes combing through. Obi-Wan squirmed his way out of Quin-Lan’s unfairly muscled arms, frantically patting down his hair.

“You have appalling manners!” He glared. He spent forever on his hair and now it feels like he did the macarena in a wind tunnel.

“And I’m your best friend!”

“A terrible decision, really.”

Quin-Lan placed a hand over his heart, shutting his eyes. “Oh Obes-E-Babe, you wound me. I’m hurt. My sold is crumbling. My light- oh, I see the darkness. It’s so cold,” he shuddered dramatically, “Anakin, tell him to kiss it better.”

“I will notkiss you, you feral-“

Anakin tugged on his robe, looking up at him with sad blue eyes and Obi-Wan knew he was fighting a losing battle.  

“But Master, you said we had to be nice to each other. You hurt Mr Quin-Lan’s feelings, and now you have to kiss it better!”

Force help him, his padawan looks so earnest. He cringes, his own teachings biting him in the ass already.

“But-“

Anakin shushed him, the monster.

“Kiss him better. On the cheek.”

“But, I-“

“Did you lie to me, Master? Do I have to even be nice to people? You’re supposed to lead by example,” he said innocently, tears filling his eyes, and Obi-Wan just has to make it all better. Obi-Wan pulled a face, but he reluctantly kissed a grinning Quin-Lan on the cheek, who preened like a peacock, flexing his biceps.

In the background, a smirking Anakin and Aayla high-fived. A small bag of credits floated into their pockets, courtesy of Quin-Lan.

By the time Obi-Wan turned back around, his padawan was sweet and innocent as ever. “Thank you for showing me how to be nice, Master,” Anakin grinned toothlessly- which made Obi-Wan all gooey inside because ADORABLE-, “You’re the best!”

“If you say so,” Obi-Wan said stiffly, eyes soft.

“Anyway, here’s your crash course to alcohol. Wine sucks but white wine sucks less. Whisky makes you look distinguished. Order cocktails if you want to look fun- sex on the beach or a blow job is always a good hit for that- but not martinis. They can get kriffed. Let’s see, let’s see… don’t drink straight vodka, your tea drinking soul will wither away sip by sip. Rum is good for destroying your memories, and order straight alcohol by saying ‘on the rocks’.”

Obi-Wan waited. And waited. Surely not…

“Was that it?” he said incredulously, “You’ve been drinking since you were fifteen, for force sake! I need more data so I can act according to the situation!”

Quin-Lan sighed, “Obi, Obi, Obi, so much to learn so little time. There’s nothing more I can help you with.”

Oh for crying out- “That’s why I invited you on this mission!”

Qui-Lan shook his head, “Sorry Obes. Just don’t order the magic potion, ‘k?”

“Why ever not?”

“You’re not ready for that yet. Wait until your chest hair grows in first, you get me?”

“I have chest hair, excuse me! Obi-Wan said, outraged, “And don’t tell me what to do!”

Obi-Wan was this close to throwing Quin-Lan off the bridge or strangling him with his damn hair when Quin-Lan’s commlink beeped and he vaulted over the side anyway, Aalya cartwheeling off after him. Obi-Wan watched them fall with incredulity, and took a deep, calming breath.

He can do this. Its just ordering alcohol and talking to the waitress. Not hard at all.

“Come, Anakin. Let’s have some fun.”

“I’m sorry sir, but I’ll need to see your ID.”

Obi-Wan’s left eye violently twitched.

“I’m twenty-six, thank you.”

The bartender squinted at him, even putting on his glasses, “What? No, you can’t be a day older than eighteen at the max.”

He ground his teeth. Jedi cannot throw civilian with the force, he reminded himself. He slapped his ID on the counter and the bartender suspiciously picked it up. He held it up under the light, turned it this way and that, held a kriffing magnifying glass over it.

“Can I order yet?”

The bartender winced.

“Sorry, hold on a moment. DELILAH!” he suddenly yelled, making Obi-Wan flinch, “Delilah, I need you to look up an ID!”

“Fuck off, I’m busy!” said a voice from the beyond, “I have glasses coming out of my ass that I need to wash here!

“DELILAH, this kid looks twelve! We need to type his ID into the system!”

“Screw you bitch, I’m coming- holy shit, he’s twelve!”

Obi-Wan smiled a bit too wide, his eyes screaming murder. “No,” he ground out, “I’m twenty-six.”

The twi-lek lady chewed gum, her lips making an obnoxious slapping sound. “Mhm, honey, okay” she said distractedly, her fingers slapping loudly on a keyboard. She paused, looking at the ID, the screen, and his face.

“Holy shit, he’s actually twenty-six. What a baby face!” she cackled, “You need to grow some chest hair, baby boy.”

Deep. Breaths.

“So can I order now?” Obi-Wan said politely, like he wasn’t straggling the lot of them in his head. He was not twelve! He didn’t even look twenty-two. If anything, he looked twenty-seven.

“Yup,” Delilah said, popping a gum bubble.

Now, what was it Qui-Lan said? Wine sucks, don’t order Vodka, something about blow jobs…

He smirked, “I’ll have a Magic Potion, please.”

Anakin tugged on his robe, but he brushed his hand away gently. He’s going to show that stupid Kiffar- he has chest hair! He can handleone drink!

Delilah raised a brow, “You sure, honey? It’s gonna screw you over.”

“I’m very sure, thank you.”

Anakin tugged on his robe a bit more urgently this time, but Obi-Wan ruffled his hair. “Later,” he whispered.

Delilah snorted, but went into the back room to fetch him his drink.

“… Master, are you sure that this is a good idea? The Magic Potion-“

“Is a great idea! I will look quite mature when I’m talking with our mission, I’m sure.”

“But-“

Obi-Wan pulled him close, “It’ll be alright. You’ll see.”

They’ll all will see how he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, can handle anything.

What Obi-Wan did not know, and what Anakin did, was that the ‘Magic Potion’ was a 50% strength alcohol with two shots of spice mixed in. And a good dose of weed extract for good measure. Though you would never know because it tasted exactly like apricots.

Anakin watched with an open mouth as his master punched the face of their informant, narrowing dodging a chair to the back from one of the gang members attacking him. He smashed a glass on someone’s chin, ripping off his own outer robe and waving it around his head as he danced his victory on the table. Then, to Anakin’s horror, he started twerking.

“Anakin!” he called, “Keek at me dance, don’t ah hae extraordinary balance!” he said, while falling off the table.  

A cup was slid to him across the bar. Delilah looked at him with sympathy, “It’s some warm milk, honey. Might help you with this nightmare.”

Obi-Wan punched another gang member in the face, but three of them tackled him to the floor. They rolled around, scuffling and swearing up a storm.

Anakin downed the milk in one go.

“Master, let’s go back to the temple!” he begged, “I’ll read you a story!”

That one always worked on him. But he’s a big boy now, so he pretends he only likes the stories for Obi-Wan (he loves reading dramatically) even though he secretly loves being read to.

“Na,” Obi-Wan giggles, landing an uppercut, “a'm huvin awfy much fin.”

Anakin scrunches his nose up.

“Why is he talking funny?” he asks Delilah, who poured him another milk shot.

Delilah squinted… “I think he’s Stewjoni. I couldn’t tell with how stuck up he sounded before.”

Anakin had no idea where Stewjon was.

Finally, his master succeeded in winning his bar fight. His face was caked with blood and his lip was split, but he was grinning broadly. 

“Anakin, let's gang fur a stravaig aroond yonder. Whit aboot pod racing? Or visiting th' senate building?”

Anakin blanched. Pod racing? The senate building?!

“But I’m sooooo sleepy!” Anakin whined desperately, eyes wide with panic, “Can you tuck me in? Pretty please with blue milk on top?”

Obi-Wan cooed about how cute and precious he was, hugging Anakin close to his chest

“Aww. O' coorse, mah wee laddie, let's gang hame sae ye kin kip.”

Again, Anakin understood about half, so he thinks he said ‘home’, so he did something right. He takes his master’s bruised hand and gently leads him outside. It’s not long before they have to stop.

Obi-Wan was staring at some overly dramatic imagine of a mother wearing a potato sack, holding a skinny little baby. Anakin wasn’t very good at basic, but he thinks it says ‘please help those in popularity’. Odd.

Obi-Wan rushes to the sign, gesturing wildly. “Let's gee a' o' oor dosh tae th' brassic! Thay need it mair than we dae!”

Anakin blinked, because what did he just say?

He realised too late what the Knight was doing. Obi-Wan had already shoved their credit chip into the machine slot and pressed ‘donate all’. He could only watch as two thousand credits went down the gurgler.

Then it dawned on him. His eyes widened with horror.

They had to walk home. With no money. And no comm. And his master was high. 

He had pulled his master away from prostitutes six times because he kept trying to hug them! He narrowly avoided picking his masters splattered remains off the ground when he carted him away from a busy road (No, Ani, th' speeders are ma friends!), and he apologised to sixteen different vendors because his dopey master kept trying to steal things and pay with the power of love.

Finally, finally, after a painful hour, Anakin pulled his master into the temple. He’d never been so happy to be back in a giant building of space monks. He led him through the halls were his master waved at every person he saw, like a child, and grinning like a loon. He tripped over Madame Nu and she went headfirst into a flowerpot.

“Sorry!” he yelled at her as she swore obscenities into the foliage, “I’m sure he’ll apologise later!”

He tried to chase after a terrified group if initiates and all of them, including Obi-Wan, tripped over the same loose tile. He fartedin front of Mastet Gallia and called her a toad while she gagged! It really was a nightmare.

Obi-Wan paused as they walked, and Anakin could have cried, “That's nae th' wey tae oor bedroom,” he said confusedly, “Whaur ur we gaun?”

“To see your friends,” Anakin said quickly, because he needed some serious help. They made it the the high council with great difficulty (Obi-Wan faceplanted six times, giggling about ‘pretty lights’), and they were already in a meeting. But to Anakin’s horror, but not surprise, he barged right in there.

“Hello there, friends!” he slurred, “We did th' mission!”

Obi-Wan was beaming at the council, swaying from side to side. Anakin put his face in his hands.

“… Kenobi,” Master Windu said dryly, “What have you done?”

The master eyed Obi-Wan’s bloodied face and Anakin winced.

“Ah git intae a boozer rammy fur lad's sook. Ah punched thaim a lot. Look at mah biceps, master, dae ye see thaim flexing?” And to Anakin’s bafflement, he Master flexed. In front of the council. With no shirt on (he lost it via a passing stripper).

Obi-Wan paused, then grinned. "See!" he pointed at his bloodied chest victoriously, "Ah 'ave me some chest hair!"

The Master’s cringed.

“… Right. Why don’t you go and sit down?”

Obi-Wan nodded absently, and instead of going for a chair like a normal human being, he sat down in Mace Windu’s lap. The man’s face scowled fiercely as his eyes twitched.

“Kenobi, what are you doing?!”

Obi-Wan giggled and began to snort.

“Yer heid is sae shiny! Sae bawld. Kin a'm feel it? Master, yer heid is sae smooth!” Obi-Wan crowed delightedly, stroking the high councilors head.

The other councilors sickered as Master Windu scowled. He attempted to shove his master off his, but Obi-Wan clung to him with both arms and legs. An Obi-Pus.

“Noooo!” Obi-Wan whined, “Yer sae warm!”

Shaak Ti attempted to help extract his Master but received a foot to the face for her troubles. Anakin was ready to die.

“Kenobi,” Master Windu growled, “Off.”

“But shiney!” he began to sob, “It’s so shiny!”

Plo Koon hushed Obi-Wan, patting him on the back.

“There, there, young Obi-Wan,” he soothed, “Master Windu’s head will be shiny tomorrow.”

Master Windu glared fiercely at Master Plo, not at all amused by the cackles of Master Yoda.

“Promise?” Obi-Wan whimpered, “Ah lik' th' shiney.”

“I promise. Master Windu won’t be getting hair any time soon.”

This time, Anakin thought Master Windu really was going to murder somebody. He was held off by Obi-Wan the octopus, who was carefully shifted into the arms of Plo Koon.

“Git tae git Ani hame,” Obi-Wan mumbled sleepily, “Kin ye read us a bedtime story? Th' yin aboot dragons 'n' magical princesses?”

Oh sands of Tatooine, Anakin was going to die. Obi-Wan squirmed sleepily, making ‘come-hither’ arms at Anakin. Anakin trotted dutifully closer, only for his master to do a massive burp in his face.

“Gross!” he cried out, horrified, “Master, why?”

Obi-Wan giggled. He whispered very loudly, “'Twas th' ceiling lights. They're talking tae me, ye ken?”

With that, Obi-Wan broke down into laughter and began to cry into Master Koon’s shoulder, overwhelmed.

“Master yoda looks lik' a troll! Master Koth stink’s. A'm waantin' a bubble bath. Kin we mak' th' temple gardens intae a bubble bath? Bant kin plooter wit’ me- ye tae, Anakin!”

His Master started sobbing, and Master Koon gently asked him what was wrong while rocking him in his arms. The council wasn’t even bothering to hide their laughter anymore.

“Ah cannae feel mah locks? Och mah force, ah lost a' mah locks! Ah dinnae wantae be shiny like Master Windu!”

The council lost it, and Master Windu put his head on the desk and screamed.

Chapter Text

One thing that the clones learned was that a bored Obi-Wan was a dangerous Obi-Wan. And it wasn’t because he was a lethal fighter or an incredibly talented strategist … no, it would never be that easy.

A bored Obi-Wan can single handily take out an entire battalion through the power of sheer chaos. And didn’t they know it.  

___________________________________________________________________

His first big idea to entertain himself was painting the negotiator- it was looking a little… grey. It was going splendidly until he slipped on some paint and skidded across the landing bay. He dramatically face-plated into a precociously balanced stack of crates, which then proceeded to collapse right on top of him, and was half-buried. The red paint tin in his hands smacked into the floor with a dull ‘thump’, sounding exactly like a skull hitting a wall, and the red paint pooled around his head like a halo. He laid passed out on the ground, still and red.

The paint, unfortunately, looked a lot like blood.

The landing bay fell dead silent. Gift stared blankly at the prone body on the floor, and he thought, gee wizz, he kind of look dead. Dead dead. That’s- that’s a lot of blood.

Gift blinked. He coughed, because everyone else was frozen stiff, and then speculatively said “Do you think the fall killed him, or was it the boxes?”

Someone made a wounded, high-pitched noise like a kettle boiling over, and someone else sobbed. In the next second, chaos broke out.

Men rushed to their general’s aid, and about seven of them slipped over and fell face-first into what they thought was their generals’ blood, invoking multiple panic attacks. As they tried to stand up, the men kept falling over, and over, and over again, and they ended up smearing bloody handprints and body drags all over the floor.

The landing bay looked like a murder scene straight out of horror movie, and when Cody casually walked through the door, he nearly passed out. All he could see was his General looking very dead, half a dozen screaming clones covered in blood, and a murder scene.

“General, no!” He cried, horrified. What the kriff happened in the five seconds he was gone?! Did an assassin just murder the love of his life?

Cody desperately ran to the love of his life. Maybe he could still save him- gods, the baby! There was so much blood-

… and he slipped over the paint and skidded across the landing bay so fast that he was a mere blur. He smacked into the wall so hard that he was knocked unconscious and crumpled heavily to the ground.

That’s when the men well and truly lost their shit.

In their mass hysteria, the men managed to set off not only the Emergency Kenobi Alarm, but all of the alarms. 

To top it off, another fifteen clones slipped over and knocked themselves unconscious, and three of the medics are now on anti-anxiety meds after they witnessed the absolute carnage in the landing bay. It looked like a massacre had happened with all the paint streaks and unconscious men.

Three hundred and seventy-two pages of incident reports later, Obi-Wan was no longer allowed to paint the walls.

____________________________________________________________________

The next idea was gambling in a lower-level casino where the stakes were high and very costly.

Clad his strappy leather disguise, he smoothly joined a game populated by mercenary’s, assassins, and gang members, and immediately placed down 5000 credits.

He won every single round with ease and a coy smirk. His credit pile grew larger and larger until it was almost ridiculous. The games were almost too easy for a sabbacc player of his calibre, if he didn’t say so himself. It was like playing with armatures instead of professionals, and he didn’t hesitate to tell them that either.

It... didn’t work out for him. It went something like this:

Obi-Wan pouted and leaned across the table.

“Don’t tell me that you’re going easy on me?”

A male twi’lek hissed at him and stabbed the table with a knife. How uncivilised. “We are not,” he growled, “going easy on you. You must be cheating.”

Obi-Wan artfully tousled his hair, “Excuse me for having an excellent sabbacc hand. Perhaps the problem lies with you.” Obi-Wan smirked slyly. He couldn’t help but goad him, it was all too easy. All it took was a few careful words here and there, and he had the whole table dancing to his tune.

“Amateurs.” He sniffed, “You should have played at the beginner's table before facing me. It seems like you need some practice, my friend.”

He pointed to the small table in the corner populated by children and hopeless adults who still didn’t have their lives together. Essentially, he called them all pathetic idiots. Losers.

The twi’lek’s face was thunderous, and more than one of the gang members put a hand on their blaster. A female assassin drew her katana.

“You will regret that,” she spat, and all of the people he was absolutely slaying at sabbacc made eye contact. They nodded slowly. “We want our credits back, cheater, and we might let you walk out of here if you’re lucky.”

“Cheater?!" he gasped. How rude. "That is an unfounded accusation, it’s not my fault that you are all woefully incompetent- oh dear.”

An axe buried itself in the wall where his neck was half a second ago.

Despite the danger Obi-Wan is in, he couldn’t help but grin. This was going to be fun! Nothing like a few attempted murders to make a night exciting. He couldn’t draw his lightsabre without revealing himself, though he enjoys a good brawl from time to time…

He landed an uppercut of the twi’leks face, and a moment later, he roundhouse kicked the assassin in the throat.

He returned to the negotiator with a bag bulging with eighty thousand credits, a black eye, a split lip, a few blaster grazes, a near stab wound on his bicep, and a very pleased swagger. After all, he not only won the game, but he beat up an entire club of mercenaries with his bare hands!

The moment his toe touched the ship, masses of medics rained down from god knows where and body tackled Obi-Wan onto a stretcher. Apparently, no one else was nearly as pleased as he was. While the medics frantically checked him for injuries, the other clones thirsted for blood and nearly flew down to Coruscant to beat the mercenaries up again.  

It was a very stressful hour. The only highlight was seeing Obi-Wan’s toned thighs bound in black straps of leather instead of pants, which was unbelievably hot.

Legends say that if you listen closely, you can still hear Cody ranting and crying in the barracks.

____________________________________________________________________

Obi-Wan tried baking.

Keyword: tried.

The bomb squad showed up in their hazard suits after no less than thirty miserable men wound up in the medbay. They were poisoned by a truly terrifying batch of cupcakes that tasted burnt despite their soggy interior.

Snacc is now in therapy.

__________________________________________________________________

For these reasons, and many, many more, Cody thought it was perfectly reasonable to drag his Jedi into the council room and straight-up demand a mission on the bounds of near insanity.

“Look,” he told them pointedly, “We need a mission or Kenobi here is going to drive us all up the wall with his chaos.”

All the council members glanced at Obi-Wan. Said man smiled angelically, hands neatly clasped in front of him. He was the very picture of serenity.

Everyone frowned suspiciously.

“Really?” Kit Fisto said in amusement, “What has Obi-Wan done now?”

“Baking,” Cody said flatly, and watched in dark satisfaction as all the council members visibly flinched. Even Yoda, who Jek has constantly complained about for his pungent-smelling root stew, cringed.

“… Understand, I do. Terrible memories, Young Kenobi’s baking brings.” Obi-Wan frowns at the grandmaster, opening his mouth to protest until he saw the traumatised faces of his fellow council members, and promptly closed it.

“Well,” his smooth-talking Jedi said mildly, but am adorable pout tugged at Obi-Wan’s plush lips. “Let’s use my baking as an incentive. You give me a mission, and I won’t bake you my famous brownie slice.”

Immediately, half a dozen data pads rained down at Obi-Wan, who only managed to dodge so many before he was smacked in the face.

“Please, be our guest! Take as many missions as you want, Obi-Wan, but please, I beg you, do not bake for us!” Kit begged, pulling another dozen datapads from his seemingly bottomless robes. “This mission is escorting a senator to another sector of the inner core!”

“Or perhaps you could take this one, where a royal court needs a minor regional trade dispute settled. No war in sight.”

Cody thought that mission sounded fantastic. It would be peaceful and relaxing, just what they need. He could take his General for a walk at sunset and just… be there with him.

But Obi-Wan flicked through the offered data pads with a frown. “They’re rather… boring, don’t you think?”

“Safe,” Master Koon gently corrected, “For you and the young ones.”

“No, I think you meant boring,” Obi-Wan steamrolled over Master Koon with a raised brow.

“I think I can do better than that. How about the Enchuon mission? Clean up some leftover Separatist damage, negotiate with the famously stubborn Enchu to bring their planet back into the Republic, and reforge the shattered inter-planetary bonds poisoned by the war wreaking havoc on their beloved planet. Simple enough.”

Everyone stared at Obi-Wan. Ki-Adi Mundi even put down his cup of tea in shock.

“Actually, Sir, that sound simple as-“

“Exactly!” Obi-Wan said triumphantly, “I’ll take this one, thank you.”

Simple as Kenobi Wrangling, he finished glumly in his head, which wasn’t simple at all. His romantic dream died right before his eyes.

“Wisdom, I am beginning to see, in Master Windu’s breakdown.” The Grand Master said finally, his large eyes filled with something close to respect and trepidation. The old Jedi promptly jumped out of his seat and hobbled towards the door.

“Afternoon off, I am taking. Call to me, the mind healers do.”

The grandmaster was gone before Cody could so much as blink.

But they wouldn’t give him the mission, Cody reasoned. Surely the masters are smarter than to give a pregnant man, which is biologically impossible for humans, a probably dangerous mission with only sparse details. Surely, between the collective council of dumbasses, they have at least one active braincell.  

Cody’s desperate hopes that one of the other council members could talk some sense into his idiot Jedi flew away like all of his remaining fucks. They rapidly signed off some datapads with nervous looking smiles.

Cody closed his eyes and resigned to having a future heart condition

“No baking?” asked a very nervous Kit Fisto.

Obi-Wan smiled that terrifying shark-like grin. Cody shivered, and it wasn’t even directed at him. God, Obi-Wan was so hot when he terrified people and played them right into his hand.

“There won’t be if I can leave within the hour.”

Cody had never seen paperwork filled out so fast in his life, and he grew up with Fox as a batchmate.

They were nearly on their transport ship when-

“OBI-WAN! HEY, OBI-WAN, WAIT FOR MEEEEEEE!” screeched Skywalker as he zoomed past on his speeder bike, a mere blur of staggering speed. Skywalker backflipped off his ride and bounded over to his Jedi like an excited puppy, his speeder casually hitting a wall and bursting into flames.

Both Cody and Obi-Wan stared. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“Anakin, what in the galaxy?”

Skywalker smirked and leaned against a pillar. Or tried, as he missed the pillar and face planted. He laid on the floor in a suggestive pose and smirked.  Even weirder, he was wearing a high ponytail. Cody wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Padme said I should ‘get out more’ and ‘stop hovering or I will boil all of your teeth’,” he said lazily, “And I commed the council, and they said I could go on the mission with you! Our first mission since the man I trusted as a grandfather for basically my entire life turned out to be manipulating me and plotting to kill my family- I’m totally fine by the way.”

“Right,” his Jedi said slowly, “… Padme threatened to boil your teeth?”

“Yup!” Skywalker said, sunshine and rainbows pouring off of him, still on the floor, “Isn’t that terrifying?”

“… Yes, actually. It is.”

Skywalker beamed.

“Then what are we waiting for, this is going to be so fun!” Skywalker abruptly turned cold and terrifying, his eyes darkening, his face hardening, and he rose like a menacing shadow.

“We shall kill anyone who dares to oppose us,” he said darkly, his hair falling across his shadowed eyes.

Cody resisted the urge to put his head in his hands as Obi-Wan shouted “Anakin, no!” and whipped out a spray bottle full of water. His Jedi proceeded to squirt the hissing knight while shouting “we don’t murder people!”.

This mission was getting worse by the minute.

___________________________________________________________________

“Stop laughing at me!” Skywalker wailed. He was close to tears. “It isn’t funny!”

His Jedi tried to keep a straight face, but flickers of mirth escaped through his serene mask. Most of the nearby 212^th gave up pretending to actually do work and trembled with laughter.

“I mean it! Rex won’t stop teasing me about causing two twin pregnancies by accident, and the entire 501st won’t stop making incest jokes. Fives keeps sending me ‘Sweet home Aladana’ memes- Master, stop laughing!”

____________________________________________________________________

Somewhere, at the edges of Enchuon space, a landing bay was converted into a peaceful meditation room. Lavender scented candles peacefully illuminated the area, releasing their soothing scent, and rainforest noises played over a speaker.

The atmosphere was serene- it had been carefully constructed by the 187^th after Mace Windu suffered from a stress-induced meltdown of epic proportions and single handily annihilated half an asteroid field, ending with the esteemed master sobbing on the floor.

“Sit and lie comfortably,” Commander Ponds said calmingly, “Be fully in this moment- let go of the physical world. Breathe in deeply.”

Fifty clones breathed in deeply in sync, surrounding one slowly de-stressing Jedi Master Windu in a circle. He hadn’t touched paperwork in weeks. He had free time, and he took naps. It was kriffing glorious.

“With your eyes closed, begin to connect with your inner world of thoughts and feelings. Gradually, let the bantha-shit of the external world fade from your awareness.”

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

“Acknowledge that all that shit is karking bullshit,” his commander said tranquilly, and damn right it is, “You’re here now, in your inner stillness. Those bitches can’t get under your skin.”

Kenobi… isn’t here. He’s fine. He’s fine. Daisies. Sunshine. Warm hugs. Murder. Defenestration.

Ponds hummed, and without opening his eyes, Mace could vividly see his commander's soothing yet calculating presence. It was grounding.

In the background, lavender candles continued to gently burn. He took a moment to appreciate the gloriously fluffy blanket under his knees, which was far superior than some hard ass meditation mat, and he listened to the gentle sounds of birds and flowing water.

Ponds rich voice lulled him back to attention- to his ‘group therapy session’.

“Just feel that shit float away. Take in full, deep breaths. Breathe in strength, breathe out bullshit.”

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

There is no Kenobi. He’s fine. Absolutely fine.

“If your thoughts drift to the three-ringed, shit show of your life, bring your focus back to your breathing, and with each breath, feel your body say fuck that.”

Fuck that, Mace agreed. Kriffing force pregnancies- who’s heard of them? He hasn’t.

“With each breath, your thoughts become lighter, and all the soul-eating, cock-suckers fall away into nothing. Take a moment to appreciate the silence. Those assholes can’t touch a purity like this. You are weightless, timeless, without a beginning or end. You are relaxed and free of thought-“

Suddenly, Mace felt a disturbance in the force. His eyes snapped open as he felt a familiar force presence brushing against his, and he instantly knew who it was. Only one person had such a serene force presence- he needed it to mask the chaotic energy that caused a majority of his heart palpations. 

No candles could calm him now.

“Kenobi!” he hissed like a feral cat, “I feel him!”

He dove out of the meditation room, ignoring the startled cries he left in his wake, and furiously ran to the control room.

He laughed tormentedly and uncontrollably- almost madly. He can’t deal with the utter mess that follows that man like a shadow- his very sanity cracks at the thought. He doesn’t want to do more paperwork! But who even needs sanity? Sanity, sanity, sanity… oh, it’s hilarious.

He’s laughing- when did he start laughing? - and he doesn’t even know why.

The delicate, glass-like serenity that Pond’s managed to patiently duct tape together trembled, and those funny, murderous thoughts burst to the surface of his mind with fury.

Sanity. Ha. Not when Kenobi is within a parsec of him.

He still wants to throw him out the window. Preferably from the top of a very tall building.

Abruptly, the comms crackle and the devil himself appears. He’s dressed in soft robes and wearing a pleased smile. Even his force damned hair looks angelic. But it’s a lie- it’s all a lie.   

“Ah, Master Windu! It’s good to see you!”

Mace feels his tortured soul scream for mercy. His eyes twitch. The vein on his forehead throbs.  

“… No! My holiday isn’t over yet! Breathe in strength, breathe out bantha shit!” he recites, giggling to himself. Wisely, his men take a step back. “PURITY- YOU CAN’T TOUCH THIS!”

“Are you alright? Do you need us to dock and board-“

“NO! Keep you and your antichrist children away- begone, HEATHEN!” he seethes, and the durasteel under his hands caves like tissue paper.

Like a true nightmare, it gets worse. Skywalker steps into the frame with his arrogant face and- and is that a high ponytail? Force- it doesn’t even suit his face shape, he thought despairingly.

“Skywalker, what the fuck have you done with your hair!” he cries, and completely ignored the offended “What’s wrong with my hair? Master, you said that it looked good!“ “I did not, I said that it’s not terrible, there’s a difference-“

He staggered back from the comm, hiding his face behind his hands. He can’t look anymore- his very soul shrieks in pain at the truly awful hairstyle. Why did he think that would look good? Did Skywalker possess braincells at all? Mace scoffed- of course he didn’t, Skywalker had more Midichlorians than sense.  

“Someone get us out of here!”

One brave clone leapt at the controls and activated hyperspace travel. The clone, who was basically a shiny, yelled to the comms “It’s Brittany, bitch!” and sent them hurtling into who the hell cares, but it’s away from Kenobi and his demonic spawn.

Once the cursed presence no longer brushes against his own, he nearly collapses with relief.

He struggles against the maniacal laughter that keeps pouring out of his mouth no matter how hard he tries to get it to stop.  He laughs, and laughs, and laughs until something inside of his breaks.

Slowly, his laughter turns into tears, and he’s now he’s crying in the middle of the control room. Great.

Feeling completely overwhelmed and out of his depth, he dives headfirst into the waiting arms of Ponds. Strong, kind arms wrap his shaking body in a hug. He can’t help it- he melts into the feeling of safe and allows himself to be completely vulnerable in the presence of someone he trusts wholly and completely.

He feels safe in his arms, safer than anywhere else in the universe.

A weighted blanket is thrown over his shoulders, and Brittany (Bitch) puts on some soothing music.

“Emotion,” his commander whispers in his ear, rubbing his back. He’s held him for a while now, and although Mace has soaked the collar of his shirt, Ponds didn’t seem to care at all.

“Yet peace,” he finishes, and takes a deep breath. The stress melts out of his body, and not even Kenobi can upset him now.

___________________________________________________________________

Obi-Wan and Anakin make slow eye contact.

“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan said carefully, “I don’t think he’s over the force pregnancy yet.”

“No, I think he’s fine- Look at him, Master, he’s completely unhinged!” Anakin crowed gleefully, “Take that, you dream-crushing basta-“

“Anakin!”

His former padawan shrugged, “What? You know I’m right.”

Obi-Wan pinched his nose and breathed in deeply, “But that’s not what I…” Obi-Wan trails off before sighing.

“Anyway, we’re about five minutes away from Enchuon. I trust you read the information packet I gave you?”

Anakin winced and looked at the ceiling. With one hand, he self-consciously took out his high ponytail.

“So that’s a no,” Obi-Wan sighed, “Really, Padawan, how you haven’t caused a diplomatic disaster with your thoughtlessness- oh, my mistake, you have.”

There was a time on Tyronia when Anakin called the princess ugly and insulted her choice of clothing, which was admittedly garish, but you’re not supposed to tell them that. It was no wonder that the planet joined the separatists with how badly Anakin offended their delicate sensibilities- they were run off the planet with pitchforks and an execution order.

He stopped counting after ten disasters, really.

He gave a great, heavy sigh.

“Well listen closely, I’m only going to say this once, and if I think you’re not paying attention I will squirt you,” he warned, lifting up his spray bottle threateningly. Anakin gave him an unimpressed, flat stare.  

“They abhor droids and stupidity, so Anakin,” he smirked,” leave the talking to me.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath. But he was smiling all the same.

“Our mission is to help Enchoun get back on their feet and, of course, negotiate. They are willing to come back to the Republic if we help them restore their planet- supposedly, separatist movement on the planet has affected their ecosystem and food supply. They wish for outsiders with greater access to technology to be of assistance.”

His former padawan paused, looking thoughtful. How unusual.

“This is an easy mission, right? ‘Cause you are carrying my…” Anakin cringed and tried to find the right words. He was traumatised by the relentless teasing from both the 501^st and the 212th, and he has wisely learned not to call them his children in fear of incest jokes. “My future family.”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’s pregnant, not dying.

“Yes, Anakin. I am confident that this mission will a breeze.”

After all, what could possibly go wrong? 

Chapter Text

After convincing Cody that he did not need fifty bodyguards with him, that six is fine, thank you very much, Cody, Waxer, Boil, Double-Shot, Longshot, and Crys piled into a transport ship with Anakin bounding ahead of them and Obi-Wan being reluctantly pulled away from his tin of biscuits.

They could have left five minutes ago, but it turns out he and Cody are just as stubborn as each other.

Cody stands in front of his, his arms crossed, and his jaw stubbornly set.

“General, put on the seatbelt.”

Obi-Wan huffs, “Cody, I’ve been at war for nearly three years and I haven’t once used a seatbelt. I think I’ll be fine without it.”

Cody raised an incredulous eyebrow, “You have a history of your ships crashing, disastrously. You went through the ship wall once- you were impaled. It’s too risky, sir, I won’t allow it.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled.

“To be fair, most of the crashing was Anakin’s fault. And I only went through the ship wall one time- “

“Seven,” Anakin coughed. Obi-Wan shot him a glare- who needs enemies when you have traitorous former padawans- “You went through the wall seven times.”

Next to him, Helix let out a wounded noise. Crys was pale, staring directly at Obi-Wan’s stomach.

His commander looked half a second away from strangling him (gently), “Exactly my point, General! Now, seatbelt.”

Feeling oddly petty, Obi-Wan crossed his arms and glared. Leaning against the ship wall, Anakin was watching the display with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I think not!” Obi-Wan said snobbishly, “I’m a High General and a Jedi Master, I don’t need to wear a seatbelt, I could backflip off the negotiator and I’d be fine-“

“We have your emotional support tea, sir. You can have it, but only if you wear the seatbelt.”

So, they are using his weakness against him in a cruel form of bribery. Well played. Irritatingly, he really did want some tea, and he never did get to finish his biscuits… he sniffed, annoyed at his own weakness.

Obi-Wan peered at the flask of tea with reluctant interest, “… What type of tea? And I don’t need emotional support from tea,” he scoffed. Ridiculous!  

“Of course not, sir, you’re a strong, independent Jedi,” Waxer said soothingly, “Though this is a perfectly brewed mug of sweetened Mandalorian chai. Isn’t this your favourite tea? It smells real good, sir, shame if something were to… happen to it.”

Obi-Wan suppressed a gasp. Are they threatening tea? Blasphemy.

“You wouldn’t.”

Waxer looked far too innocent. “Wouldn’t what? Trip? Accidents happen, sir.”

Distantly, Obi-Wan thought that this might count as a mutiny.

“Fine, fine, I’ll put on the seatbelt. Just respect the tea,” Obi-Wan said sulkily, reluctantly fastening the (completely unnecessary) seatbelt. For good measure, just to make sure they understand how completely unneeded this is, he crossed his arms and glared into the corner.

Cody looked far too smug. Perhaps a bit childishly, Obi-Wan used the force to yank Cody’s ankle in hopes that he would stumble, or better yet, trip. Instead, Cody gracefully fell into his own seat and did up his own seatbelt, which Obi-Wan had never, ever seen the commander do before.

Obi-Wan just about snatched the tea from Waxer with a mumbled ‘thank you’, cradling his precious to his chest. The moment he took a sip, all of his petty anger and irritability melted away, and he immediately nudged them all apologetically with the force. His men grinned.

Force damn it, they were right, he thought mournfully. He did need emotional support tea. Damned mood swings.

Anakin coughed, “What about me? Are you going to ask if I need a seatbelt?”

Cody stared at Anakin flatly, as if saying ‘bitch, please, you’re a big boy now’.

“No.”

Anakin pouted.

“You guys are so mean to me. What did I ever do to you?”

Obi-Wan’s thoughts instantly jumped to the multitudes of crash landings, botched plans, dramatic explosions, and stacks of paperwork. Judging by the sour look on Cody’s face, he was thinking the exact same thing.

They all stared at Anakin, some more testily than others. Boil still hasn’t let go of the habanero pepper incident of Tatooine.

Anakin winced, “Point taken. Can I at least pilot?”

The clones shared a look. Cautiously, Crys pressed a mangled bit of machinery and a toolkit into Anakin’s hands. Anakin peered at the mass of tech curiously before he beamed with joy, boyish excitement lighting up his battle-hardened face.  

“Oh man, is that a compressed ray shield?” he said excitedly, “This is brand new tech straight from the Techno Union- I’ve been dying to get my hands on one of these babies. Now if I could just take a look at that energy conductor…”

Anakin became adorably enraptured by the tech, happily muttering under his breath in complicated tech jargon, and was sufficiently distracted from piloting.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Obi-Wan asked with a raised brow.

Crys shrugged, “Sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about. We just gave General Skywalker some highly sought-after technology. But you should put the harness on, sir.”

“Harness? What harness-“ Obi-Wan let out a vicious string of curses that made Anakin startle from his work and Cody gape, “Of course there’s a harness, why wouldn’t there be a kriffing harness, I need more tea for this-“

It was a smooth ride down to the green and white planet of Enchuon. Anakin, distracted by his tech, was not able to cause a catastrophic ship malfunction, and they landed right on time.

Anakin, in a show of characteristic impatience, cartwheeled out of the ship before Obi-Wan could figure out how to undo all of the Sith damned buckles and safety straps that had him plastered to the seat.

And Anakin, of course, greeted the welcoming party first. Over the years, Obi-Wan has learnt that if he wants to avoid aggressive negotiations, Anakin must not make first contact with the other party under any and all circumstances. He’s insulted too many people for that.  

Anakin being Anakin completely forgot that diplomacy was a thing and cheerfully skipped past some very important people without performing the sacred greeting and bowed at the King instead of keeling. 

Obi-Wan internally sighed. It was a moderate offense, and he hadn’t even been on the planet for a full minute. Crys managed to wrestle the harness off him, and to his satisfaction, Cody’s seatbelt was jammed. Sucker.

“I dunno, they seem to be doing alright to me,” Anakin said skeptically, while looking directly at a nearby Lords robust waistline.

A finer dressed lady dropped her chalice in shock.

Admittedly, the Enchu didn’t look like they were starving.

Obi-Wan smoothly walked down the ramp and kneeled before the King. His men flanked him from both sides and behind. Cody was still struggling to undo his seatbelt. He ended up cutting it off with a knife after some quiet cursing.

“What he means to say, my Lord, is that your planet is truly a sight to behold. The war has hardly touched the beauty of your planet: we are thankful that you have allowed us to see such magnificence,” Obi-Wan said graciously, “And Knight Skywalker merely meant that Enchuon has dealt with its suffering tremendously well. He was simply surprised; I assure you that he meant no offense.”

The King looked distinctly unimpressed, though his face hardly moved a muscle.

“Tch. You are here to aid us with the damages caused by your war, and leave,” he growled. His voice was surprisingly deep, more of a rumble than anything.

The King is an imposing figure. A heavy fur cape is slung over his broad shoulders, and his hard, grey eyes glared at Anakin as if he wished to impale him with the broad sword hanging from his armoured hip. A simple steel circuit rested above his hairline.

The rest of the entourage shared the same snow-white skin with black smudges around their eyes. The guards covered their faces with eery, blank masks, and each wore stone grey armour. They were all tall, taller than humans, and strong. But there wasn’t a single piece of technology on their persons.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed, “We will do what we must to bring Enchuon back to the Republic.”

The King stared down at him with those chilling eyes. Neither of them broke eye contact. Eventually, the King nodded slowly, as if he saw something he liked.

“We shall see. Follow, Jedi.”

They followed the King and his men through the elegant and rustic looking streets. The buildings were either single or double storied, but no more, and they were built from dark wood and carved stone. The path itself was a mix of compacted dirt and cobbled stone. They seemed to be more in touch with nature than core planets, seeing as trees and other flora freely grow amongst the city. Even their clothes, made out of hand-spun cotton and fur, seemed to lack the mass-produced and synthetic material that most sentients used for convenience.

The Enchu citizens bustled past them without a care. They were all tall, pale, and powerful figures, but most had raven hair instead of the platinum of their King.

The city was beautiful. But something was… missing.

Obi-Wan couldn’t put his finger on it. There were men and women, houses, twisting trees dotted with snow, and even a river running through the sprawling city. He heard percussion music in the distance. Laugher. Clangs of metal swords instead of vibroblades.

It was relatively normal, so what is missing?

“So, you have noticed,” the King grunted as he walked, “why we joined the separatists.”

Obi-Wan merely raised an eyebrow.

The King’s gaze was long and deep, “Tell me, Master Kenobi, how old do you think I am?”

He was young, but not too young. He wasn’t old either. His face was smooth and mostly free of wrinkles, but it wasn’t the soft skin of a younger man. His square jawline and high cheekbones were sharp, his eyes sharper. Keen intelligence shined through them.

“Anywhere from your mid-thirties to late forties, I’d imagine,” Obi-Wan guessed, but judging by the King’s twitch of the lips, he was wrong.

“I would not be King if I was merely a lad of forty. I am over a hundred years old, and if I do not die in combat, I may live to thrice that.”

Over a hundred- Obi-Wan couldn’t help but stare. Goodness, that King looked handsome for his age. Anakin made a disbelieving noise.

The King looked at them with humour glinting in his eyes. “Yes, I look young by your standards, human. But that is our problem. We are only fertile once we reach seventy, and many of us never become fertile at all. Tell me, Master Jedi, can you hear the sound of children?”

He listened and found that he couldn’t. He stretched out his senses, searching for the bright innocence of childhood in the force, but he found a precious few. Even war-torn planets had children. Even half-dead planets.

The King sighed.

“We had fifty children born in the last decade. Our population is dropping every year, no matter how many fertility treatments we undergo, and no matter how much we try, we are almost childless. We are not a rich planet, for we have no want for capitalism or hoarding credits, but we are rich in recourses. Count Dooku offered us access to the Kamino cloning facility if we shared our supply of precious minerals and ores. It was a fair trade in our eyes, until he was sold out the Separatist Alliance to have a bath,” he said sourly.

Obi-Wan coughed into his hand. He was not telling him why the Count needed a bath, and that it was his fault in the first place.  

The clones behind him started. At his side, Cody’s breath hitched. A moment later, the King’s words caught up to him. 

“Kamino,” echoed Obi-Wan in surprise, “Isn’t that-“

“Part of the Republic? There are many things you still do not know, Jedi.”

“Like what?” Anakin interjected testily. After his experience with Palpatine, there was nothing Anakin hated more than being lied to. Or being left in the dark. “What could you know that we don’t?”

“I suspect the answer will be revealed in time, young one. You just simply look in plain sight.”

“But we-“ Obi-Wan sent calm through their bond as Anakin bristled. He did not need a brawl to break out. Yet.

The King stopped and stared directly at Obi-Wan, a glimmer of something in his eye.

“You seem to be an intelligent, cultured man, Master Kenobi. Might you join me for dinner?”

What? “Er, my Lord-“

“You may call me Errik, little fireheart,” The King gave his first small smile. It was rather handsome on his usually icy face. “We can discuss the brilliant strategies you have undoubtedly implemented in war, and the mighty conquests you have made, if it pleases you.”

Near blushing in the face of Errik’s intense gaze and deep, rumbling voice, Obi-Wan fumbled for an answer.

“I-“

“He’s not available!” Cody suddenly shouted, “He’s having dinner with me!”

Every single man and woman paused and stared at Cody, who went still as an eopie in the headlights. Anakin raised an eyebrow, impressed.

Cody coughed, “I mean, protocol dictates that the General eats with at least one of us in unfamiliar locations. And… Waxer and I volunteered.”

That protocol was complete bantha-shit.

Waxer let out a strangled wheeze. Cody, meanwhile, was turning red down to his neck, and looked a few moments from passing out.

The King sighed in disappointment and gave a nod to a horrified Cody. “Very well.”

He reached up and threaded a hand through Obi-Wan’s red hair. His caress tingled- he couldn’t help but fiercely blush from his touch. “A shame. Such beautiful fire is not seen on Enchuon. But I am not to be the one who holds the flame for you, little fireheart, for someone else already treasures it.”

Cody made a worryingly high-pitched noise that he muffled by him slamming his bucket over his head. The King gave Cody a knowing look.

Obi-Wan felt like he was missing a very crucial piece of information.

The King looked up at the sky, “The sun will soon fall. It is very cold at night, here on Enchuon. Narcia will show you and your comrades to your quarters. Dinner will be delivered by seven. Goodnight, little flameheart, I will see you for the negotiations in the morning.”

Obi-Wan placed a fist over his heart and beat it twice as the customary sign of respect for the King.

“Goodnight, my Lord.”

“I told you to call me Errik,” the silver-haired man purred, looking directly at Cody.

“Well then. Goodnight, Errik.” The King- Errik- smiled in pleasure. He nodded his head at him, placing a hand over his heart and only beating it once.

When Errik and his men left, heading towards a grand building in the distance, Cody seemed torn between hyperventilating and growling. Odd. 

“So, Cody, I hear that we’re having dinner together?” Obi-Wan asked pleasantly, only to break the awkward silence that had fallen over the group. Even Anakin wasn’t saying anything, which was puzzling. Instead, he looked thoughtful.  

Cody tripped over a rock and neatly fell headfirst into a snow pile. He completely disappeared, leaving a Cody-shaped hole behind. Boil had to drag him out.

Cody managed to get through dinner with Obi-Wan and Waxer without falling to the floor and screaming, but as soon as his General left to go meditate, he did exactly that. He laid down on the floor, covered his head with his hands, and screamed into the floorboards.

Quietly, though- they had neighbours.

Waxer poked him with his boot.  “The General’s not available, huh?”

Cody cringed with his whole body, “Stop reminding me. Please.”

“Yeah nah,” Waxer snorted, “That was terrible, Codes. Terrible. I’ve seen Skywalker act cooler than that absolute speeder-wreck. You may as well have gotten down on one knee and declared your undying love for him – it would have had the same effect.”

Cody whimpered.

“Do you think Obi-Wan knows?” he asked quietly.

What if he was disgusted with him and sent him away? He can’t bear the idea of leaving him. It would crush him, because he knows that there is nobody else in the Galaxy that he wants to be with more than Obi-Wan.

Even when he’s prattling on about some archaic poetry or an obscure species of fungi, he’s interesting and smart and witty and utterly perfect. Obi-Wan has the most mesmerising smiles- there’s his witty grin, the smirk, that one where his mouth barely twitches, but you see complex emotions dancing in those bottomless ocean eyes. And his favourite: the soft smile. It’s like being near warm sunshine. It’s beautiful- he wants to see it every day.

But even worse, he might like Errik, a King of an entire planet, more than him. And why wouldn’t he? That man is hot. He’s tall with a jaw that could cut the ice in the river, and an accent that sends sensual shivers down his Obi-sexual spine.

Waxer snorted, “There’s only one person more emotionally constipated than you in this battalion and it’s the General. You’re safe, Vod. And he didn’t seem to taken with that frigid King if he had dinner with you instead. But thanks for inviting me on your not-date, I guess.”

“No problem,” Cody mumbled, a puddle of relief on the floor. Obi-Wan likes him better. The thought sent butterflies loose in his stomach. “I owe you one.”

A moment passes. Waxer was fiddling with his com, and it started to ping.

“Not anymore.”

Wait, what? Cody snapped his head up, and it wasn’t Waxer’s com in his hands, it was Cody’s.

“What have you done?” Cody breathed in horror.

Waxer shrugged. “I only used your password, which is ‘Kenobae’ apparently, and signed into the CC + Rex group chat and told them all the hot goss. The fresh tea. The steamy scandal. The juicy scoop – eep!”

Cody tackled him to the floor with a war cry, but it was too late.

They had seen.

Obi-Wan happily crawled out of his bed after a beautifully restful sleep, just after the crack of dawn. He vomited for no apparent reason apart from existing, and immediately ate his entire supply of chocolate because he just really, really wanted chocolate and he might have cried if he didn’t eat any.

He skipped into the common area of their villa (a villa; its positively luxurious), feeling calm and ready to face the world. All he needed was breakfast.

Cody, on the other hand, looked deeply disturbed.

“Are you alright, commander?” Obi-Wan asked, concerned. He really did look terrible- like he didn’t sleep a wink. Was his room poor? His own was marvellous. The blankets were so soft.  

Waxer, chilling on one of the lounges, sniggered. “He’s fine, he just had a good chat with the other commanders last night. They kept him up with an important discussion.”

“Oh?”

Cody looked supremely grumpy now. Boil shoved a caff in his hands and the Commander downed the steaming mug five seconds.

“It’s nothing,” Cody said moodily, “Rex was just being a dick.”

Emerging from his room, Anakin let out an empathetic noise of agreement. “I know what you mean, commander. Rex can be so mean to me. I feel you.”

“… I hate that I like that,” Cody mutters, “Kriffing Rex- gonna kick his ass.”

“I’ll help!” Anakin offers, “He sent me this meme this morning.”

He pulls it up on a holo. It says; when your kriffing your co-worker but then you remember that it’s a family business.

Various groans fill the common area. Cody looks so done with life.

Obi-Wan pulled a disgusted face. Why do people write these ‘memes’? What happened to good old practical jokes? Kids these days… honestly. The implications of this ‘joke’ alone send shivers of disgust down his spine.

Obi-Wan groans and puts his head in his hands. He can’t look anymore. “Anakin, that’s honestly terrible.”

He shrugs, “I know, that’s why I’m going to kick Rex’s ass just like Cody said-“

“No,” Cody snapped, “You don’t get to kick his ass. Only I get to kick his ass. Sir.”

Anakin blinked.

“But you said-“

“If you kick his ass, I kick your ass. Twice as hard. With a chair.”

Anakin furrows his brows, “But why do you get to kick his ass and I don’t?”

Obi-Wan sighs yet again. Oh, Anakin.  

“It’s an older brother thing- hard to explain.”

Immediately, Anakin’s eyes zero straight to Obi-Wan’s stomach. His eyes are large, like a child’s. “Woah,” he whispers, “Does that mean I’ll get the big brother thing?”

“I suppose? Though, I doubt you’ll fight the babies because you’ll probably lose, and that would be quite humiliating- oof!” Anakin tackles Obi-Wan in a hug, lifts him off the ground, and squeezes him tight, ecstatic. A giant smile is stretched across his face.

The bond between them is thrumming with excitement, and he can feel the love that Anakin already has for his unborn siblings.

“I’m going to be an older brother!” he laughed, swinging Obi-Wan around, “It didn’t hit me before, but I’m going to be an older brother! I’m so excited!”

“You are,” Obi-Wan said softly, “But you’re already an older brother. You know that.”

Immediately, Anakin’s smile dimmed.  A brief look of despair washed over his face before it shuttered. The bond sealed off, leaving him cold.

“Right,” he said bitterly, “And what a good job of protecting her I did.”

Politely, his men all mumbled something about leaving their buckets in their rooms and awkwardly wandered off.

He didn’t need to use the force to feel Anakin’s pain. He felt it too.

“You know that it wasn’t your fault, you did all you could for her. We all failed her- the jedi failed her. The council, most of all. The blame does not rest solely on you, my padawan.”

And it’s true. The council majorly kriffed up- Obi-Wan kriffed up most of all. He should have fought more, should have listened- done something other than sit there and bow to the senate. He was her grandmaster, and he acted no better than Dooku.

Anakin hunched his shoulders, his fists clenched at his side.

“The blame is one me!” he shouted, eyes furious, “I was her Master- I was supposed to be there for her! I was supposed to protect her, and I failed. What if it was me? How would you feel?”

He could hardly imagine life without Anakin in it. He didn’t want to. He is his brother, and more- sometimes, they feel like complimentary sides of the same warrior. If Anakin had left like Ahsoka, because of him, because he failed, he doesn’t know what he would do. It might kill him.

“Terrible,” he admitted, “Like a failure. But no matter what you do, or where you go in life, I will always care for you. And you feel the same way about Ahsoka.”

He didn’t even need to ask. Anakin’s and Ahsoka’s bond were one of the strongest he had ever seen, nearly as strong as his own with Anakin. They were family- are- family.

 Anakin gave him a tired smile, “Thanks, Master. I will always love her, but that doesn’t make this situation any better. I don’t even know where she is, or if she’s okay, or if she needs my help. She’s only seventeen, and it’s a scary world out there. I’m… I’m worried about her. Really worried.”

Obi-Wan laid a comforting hand on Anakin’s shoulder and gently squeezed. The bond tentatively opened up, and Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate to send all of his love and support.

“She’ll be okay,” he said softly, “I know it.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. You trained her, after all. Our padawan will be okay.”

Anakin’s lower lip wobbled, his eyes filled with tears, and he dove into Obi-Wan’s arms. Obi-Wan gave a teary laugh as the air was knocked out of him, nearly crying.

“Thanks,” Anakin said hoarsely, hiding his face in Obi-Wan’s shirt “I needed to hear that.”

“Always,” he said softly, “I’m here for you, Anakin, my brother. My son,” Obi-Wan wrapped Anakin in a hug, both of them crying for their lost little sister, “I always will be.”

At eight AM sharp, two hours after Anakin and Obi-Wan stopped crying in the kitchen together, the King and his men came knocking on the door. Just in time for Anakin’s eyes to no longer look like a demon possessed his soul.

It appears the negotiations are commencing earlier than planned. His predictions are off.

Obi-Wan didn’t even get to say good morning before the King said, “As customary to our people, we will show you the beauty of our capital: Tir’Nor.”

Obi-Wan blinked. That was not a sentence that he was expecting. Cody frantically typed on his datapad- the capital of Enchuon was poorly documented, like most things on this planet, and his commander seemed determined to document everything according to proper procedure. 

“What about the negotia-“

The King put a finger to his pale lips, effectively silencing him mid-sentence. Cody let out a noise of outrage.

“Later.”

“But I have a schedule planned. I even drew up a timetable,” Obi-Wan said sadly, holding up the binder containing his meticulously labelled time schedule. It was seven pages long, and colour coded, written on flimsi. He took the Enchu’s aversion of datapad’s into consideration when creating it- cultural appropriateness and such.

Anakin snorted, while Cody stared at the binder with a dazed look on his reddening face.

Obi-Wan wonders if he should check his lymph nodes again.

Errik’s face hardly reacted, though Obi-Wan swears he can see a glimmer of amusement in his icy eyes. Maybe it’s just the light reflecting off them.

“Come,” he commanded them, “We have many wonders for you to see- your ‘schedule’ is not needed today.”

He placed his precious, unneeded binder down forever after a brief period of mourning. It was so… organised. And he adored it when things were organised. Obi-Wan trailed after Errik and his guards with Anakin directly beside him, feeling oddly sad.

It was such a good binder; it would be cruel to kill it- and there’s the pregnancy talking. You can’t kill binders, he’s being utterly ridiculous. He pushed the sadness into the force and instead focused on the crisp, icy air of Enchuon’s mornings. 

Cody was the last person to leave the villa. With a reverent kiss to the binder, he slipped it into the small room he shared with Waxer and vowed to worship its gloriously organised pages later.

With one last longing look at the pages, he ran after his General.

The King insisted on showing them the most beautiful places in Tir’Nor.

The partially frozen ice river was crystalline and unpolluted, making it gleam like diamonds in the sunlight.

The streets were bustling in their early morning with markets and stalls selling loaves of fresh bread, hand crafted weapons, and clothing.

Most of his men bought themselves a little something from the pocket money Obi-Wan gambled from the underbelly of Coruscant. Boil in particular seemed frightfully pleased with his wickedly curved hunting knife, while Double Shot was tearfully purchasing fresh bags of coffee beans. Crys, on the other hand, delighted in the pastel pink scarf draped around his neck. It was very fetching on him.

He knew Cody bought something, but he immediately stuffed it in his pocket. Obi-Wan didn’t see what it was.

But the next stop, the Hall of Fertility, was… different. Very different. Cody made the wise decision to not document the experience because it was, well, an experience.

Obi-Wan stared with an open mouth at the Statues of Potency. It made sense, in a way, that a planet with fertility issues would come to worship sex and pregnancy. He just didn’t think they would be this… open.

He stared at one of the statues in particular. It’s very… complex. How does it even-

“Ah,” The chieftain said knowing, “this statue is a crowd favourite. May I hear your thoughts?”

Obi-Wan swallowed. He forced himself to look at the statue and ignore the sniggering of Anakin in the background.

“Erm- they seem to be… very flexible. I didn’t even know that was physically possible. Or…” Obi-Wan struggled for words, “ahem, needed.”

The Chieftain gazed at the statue.

“Yes,” he grunted, “It is a very difficult position. But rewarding.”

“So you have-“

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it a bit, erm, difficult-“

“Yes.”

“Why-“

The Chieftain made eye contact, then dropped his gaze down Obi-Wan’s body appreciatively. Obi-Wan wanted the ground to split open and just take him already.

“Yes.”

“Right. Okay,” Obi-Wan shuffled awkwardly, “How interesting.”

He hastily averted his gaze from the statue of the impossible sex position- because really, how did they even get their limbs to bend like that? It can’t possibly have been comfortable- and came face to face with another sex statue.

His virgin eyes were dying. He’s sure that he must be redder than a tomato.  

“This one is called the ‘prone bone’. Crude, yet aptly put. And that one over there is known as the ‘sixty-nine’, revered for its powers to bring pleasure to both lovers simultaneously.”

Gods, get him out of here. If he saw one more marble dick he was going to cry. Possibly ask Plo to erase his memories. Cody seemed to be in a similar predicament to him, but curiously, he wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan forced out, “How… exciting.”

In the background, Cody choked. Double Shot slapped him in the back with his new bag of coffee so hard that he was sent flying onto one of the more… vulgar statues.

While Waxer and Boil laughed at Cody, Anakin was taking a selfie next to next to a lewd statue, and Obi-Wan had the misfortune of tripping over and falling into the Fountain of Amniotic Fluids. Lovely- he so wanted to be even more magically fertile.

Finally, after touring some pregnancy themed temple that made Obi-Wan nervously glace at his belly, they finally got down to the negotiations.

Sort of.

Cody was nearly growling at the King, and the rest of his men looked restless.

“Your Highness, surely you can make an exception. General Kenobi is our highest priority, and this would directly violate seven different regulations- at least one of us must go in with him. Sir,” Cody added hastily.

The King gravely shook his head, “It is our ancient tradition. Only leaders are allowed within the Great Hall, and only one leader from each faction at a time.”

Cody’s eyes burned fiercely, “But sir, his safety is the priority, I cannot-“

Obi-Wan placed a hand on Cody’s tense shoulders and squeezed. His commander relaxed slightly at his touch. “It will be okay, commander, I will not be harmed. The force is with me.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it…” Cody grumbled. He scowled, crossing his arms stubbornly. “Aright sir, go in by yourself. But I’ll be out here the whole time to keep watch.” Cody glared, as if daring him to disagree.

The Kings guards looked a bit miffed.

“Okay,” Obi-Wan agreed, and watched as the tension half drained out of him, “keep watch. But you should more concerned about Anakin, honestly.”

“Hey!” Anakin squawked. However, all the clones nodded gravely.

“Anakin, I want you to take the rest of the men and bring down some of the 212^th, perhaps a hundred men.  Gather information of the invasive species and scout the area for signs of ecological damage, but whatever you do, do not engage. Am I clear?”

“Yup,” Anakin grinned, “No problem. I got this.”

Obi-Wan nodded warily, “If you say so. Just do not-“

“Engage, I know. Master, it’ll be a piece of cake. What could go wrong?”

Past history says a lot. He’s got a bad feeling about this.

But he forces a smile and sends Anakin on his way. He has a treaty to secure.

About an hour later: a disaster is about to unfold.  Of course, starring Anakin: resident human disaster.

After rounding up another hundred or so men from the Negotiator to scout the immediate area, they had to fortune (or misfortune) to find something… interesting. They found some scorch marks and a few deep gouges in the earth from what looked like claws.

At the edge of a park, Anakin came to a halt as a saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes peeking out of the shrubbery. From his brief rundown, he knows that most Enchuon wildlife is woodland mammals and birds, and none of them have yellow or red eyes.

It’s must be one of the ecosystems destroying, invasive creatures that have Enchuon so riled. Instantly, he’s dangerously curious. He shouldn’t engage, he has orders… but he’s so curious! Besides, what harm could looking even do? Nothing! Obi-Wan just worries too much.

He brushes a niggling feeling in the back of his mind aside. He’ll deal with that later.

Mind made up, he cruised over to the invasive creature.  The clones patrolling behind him paused as they spotted the eyes.

“Sir, are you sure that is a good idea? General Kenobi told us not to engage.”

Not for the first time, Anakin wished Rex were here. He just goes along with whatever, even if he mercilessly teases him.

“It’ll be fine… Aww, guys, it’s kinda cute,” Anakin cooed as the creature crept into the light. The creature was the size of a large dog, except, unlike a dog it had dark green scales, wings, and a sharp pair of horns. Its yellow eyes took up half of its head, and it had a permanent ‘derp’ look on its face. It was ugly but in a weirdly adorable way. Maybe Padme would let him keep one as a pet?

“Hi buddy!” he cooed, “Come here, baby.” He beckoned the creature to come closer with the force. It didn’t respond normally… or at all. It just brushed him off, which was odd. He’s never been good at the mind arts- he kinda sucks at them, actually, but not this bad. Obi-Wan is the one who is good at the mind arts: he could probably control a Hutt if he wanted to.

Waxer shifted uneasily behind him and raised his blaster, “Sir, do not bring the creature closer. Disengage, and follow the General’s orders- we have no idea what this creature is capable of.”

Anakin pouted, “No, no. Look, it’s adorable. It’s such a tiny baby waby- such a cutie patotie- OH MY GOD!”

A dense stream of fire would have burned Anakin to smitheries if he didn’t have the reflexes of a Jedi. The ground where he was standing is scorched black and steadily smoking.

Anakin swallowed. Right. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool… he can fix this. It’s only one fire breathing lizard in the midst of a city made of wood. He can manage this.

But then, the creature shrieks so loudly that it painfully vibrates in his skull.

“Sir…” One of the clones said nervously, “You don’t think it has any friends, do you?”

“… Nooo?”

A moment later, hundreds of yellow eyes gleamed in the shadows. It has friends- a lot of friends.

“Fuck,” Anakin swore, “I should have listened to Obi-Wan. Any ideas?”

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan…

His bond with Anakin flutters. Was that… panic? He carefully shifts his attention to the bond instead of Errik, who was listing Enchuons demands about their access to Kamino for fertility and cloning treatments.

Obi-Wan frowned.

Anakin, is everything okay?

The bond spikes with anxiety. Oh yeah, everything is great. Totally going according to the plan.

… Are you absolutely sure? You seem quite nervous.

YES! I mean, got to go and do my work by that’s totally going to plan! Bye, love you dad!

And before he could get another word in, Anakin closed off the bond. Did Anakin just call him… dad? Something must be horribly wrong.

“Is everything alright?” Errik rumbles, “You seem distracted.”

“Oh, I’m sure everything is fine,” Obi-Wan said convincingly, “Between Anakin and Cody, I’m confident that everything is moving forwards as planned.”

“I’m on fiiiirrreeeeeee!” A citizen screams as they run past him, on fire. The citizen jumps into the icy river and they sizzled like a hot pan dunked into the sink. Guards tried using their metal swords to fight them, but the creature’s hides are strong.  

Other people are currently avoiding becoming barbequed as hundreds of fire breathing lizards attack the wooden city of Tir’Nor. It’s not a great combination.

“I think they’re blaster proof!” Boils yells, firing at a creature, “And fireproof!”

True to his words, blaster fire just slides right off the creature and burns the houses even more.

“Why don’t we try chase them away!” Anakin screams above the screaming.

“Because they chase us!”

One of the clone’s sprints past him with a creature hot on his tail, shooting fire at his heels. It was Crys, and his pink scarf tragically smoldering around his neck.

“Right! What if we stab them?”

“With the one lightab- kriff!” Boil was tackled by a creature and resorted to punching it in the face. If anything, the creature looked amused. Anakin pulled it off him with the force and lopped off its head, but there’s too many of them. He could cut off fifty heads, but there would be fifty more to take their place.

What has he done? Anakin thought in horror. This wasn’t supposed to happen! He’s supposed to be the Hero with No Fear and save people, not burn them to death.

Houses are on fire all around him. People are screaming and crying, and he honestly doesn’t know what to do. Fighting kriffing blaster proof dragons is nothing like fighting Sith lords, blowing up separatist bases, or planning a daring rescue.

He sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he sees what’s happening, his mouth dries. It’s bad. Really, really bad.

His eyes widen, “Don’t let them get to the fuel tank!”

“… though the Republic is wary about the usage of cloning since the beginnings of the Clone Wars. This demand may take a few months to be approved-“

The ground rumbles beneath their feet. Dust and small pebbles are shaken loose from the ceiling, coating Obi-Wan in a fine layer of grey powder.

Obi-Wan and Errik look at each other in alarm.

“Oh gods, the fuel tank-!”

A creature seemed to smirk at him. Time slowed, and Anakin dashed forwards, but it was too late.

Boom.  

Errik threw open the heavy stone doors, and immediately heat blasted their faces.

“What in the Galaxy…” Obi-Wan gaped.

Everything was on fire. Houses, people (though they had enough sense to jump into the river, icy at it is), sculptures and trees. He spots clones running for their lives, some attempting to win a wrestling match with a dragon, and others rushing people to safety.

Cody is screaming into his comm unit for backup, shooting his blaster with one hand.

Anakin is fighting what looks like a dozen of the creatures at the same time. And loosing. His robes are partially on fire.

It’s pure carnage. Chaos at its finest.

The King, meanwhile, looks horrified. “My people,” he cries in an uncharacteristic display of emotion, “My city, it’s burning!”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even know where to start. It would have been nice to know that the creatures can breathe firebefore he set Anakin loose in a wooden city.

The King rounds on him. Any affection that he may have had for him is gone, only fury remain.

“Fix it!” the King shouts, “Jedi, save my people or I will declare war with the republic!”

“But-“

“Save them! Master Kenobi, please!”

He looks at the terrified people and his valiant men, and he knows that he has to.

“All right,” he says softly, “I will do what I must.”

He stretches out with the force, unfurling his force presence. It feels like waking a sleeping giant, like he’s stretching out after days of curling up. He reaches, and reaches, and reaches into the force until starts to feel less connected to his body. He is one with the force and the force is with him. He is one with the force and the force is with him. He is one with the force and the force is with him.

He feels the minds of everyone. The bright, blinding presence of Anakin. The cold, calculative mind of Errik. The clones. The citizens.

The creatures.

He connects with their identical minds, and he says STOP.

They stop.

He says, YOU WILL NOT HARM THESE PEOPLE. YOU WILL NOT USE YOUR FIRE. YOU WILL NOT RESIST ME.

They do not. They bow to his presence in the force and no longer have the urge to attack. Obi-Wan feels less and less like Obi-Wan the deeper into the force he goes.

YOU WILL BOARD MY SHIP AND YOU WILL BE CONTAINED. YOU WILL NOT FIGHT US. YOU WILL BE FREED WHERE YOU BELONG.

 yes

YOU WILL FOLLOW?

 yes

And they did.

What could have been minutes or hours later, Obi-Wan opens his eyes. His hand is outstretched in front of him, and it is… aching. Like he was holding that position for a long time.

There are no fires anymore, and there is no screaming. People stare at him in awe.

“Sir,” Cody says worriedly, “Are you alright? Do you feel faint? We should take you to Helix.”

Obi-Wan sways on his feet, he’s feeling quite spent. “What… What happened?”

It was Anakin who spoke up, looking deeply concerned. “You went deep into the force. Like, deep deep, and I could hardly feel you anymore. I was worried you were going to drop off the edge.”

Cody whimpered softly.

“And the creatures just… stopped,” Waxer filled in, wonder in his voice, “They turned to us, and then flew up to the Negotiator, entered the ship, and let themselves be sealed off in a containment bay. Just like that.”

Did he do all that? He can’t have, he doesn’t have that kind of power. Not like Anakin, though he’s always been uncommonly skilled in the mind arts.

“Oh,” he says instead, feeling drained. “I think I need some dinner. I’m famished.”

Dinner was an… awkward experience. Only Anakin and Obi-Wan were invited, much to Cody’s annoyance. They had finished the negotiations hours ago, now that the creatures were gone and no longer destroying crops, and Obi-Wan now had to take their cloning demands to the Republic for review.

Every Enchu was giving Anakin the side-eye or a dirty look, and all of his padawan's food was burnt. Fittingly enough. The dining room was nearly dead silent, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“So… we saved the day?” Anakin tried, laughing nervously. The server unapologetically spilled a glass of water on his lap, making Anakin yelp.

“We lost fifteen houses, three people, ancient wood carvings, and some of the Temple of Fertility was scorched because you could not follow orders,” The King said flatly, “Knight Skywalker, I would hold your tongue if I were you.”

Anakin awkwardly cleared his throat. “Yup, will do,” and futilely tried to cut his steak. It was like rubber- his knife broke in half instead. Anakin stared at his broken knife blandly, but luckily his padawan did not ask for another. Obi-Wan had a strong feeling that the server might try to stab him with it. 

The server graciously offered Obi-Wan wine, bowing lightly.

“I don’t drink alcohol,” he apologised, “Just water will be fine.”

A lady gasped, “But it’s a sacred gift!”

Obi-Wan grimaced. Wonderful- refusing sacred gifts is always so… difficult. They either get offended and accuse you of insulting them, which they really couldn’t afford right now (thanks Anakin), or they come to the conclusion that their civilisation is unworthy, and they must shower increasingly desperate gifts onto the Jedi until they accept and ‘redeem’ their culture.

Obi-Wan tries to smile and internally winces. “I insist that I cannot-“

“But it would be rude of you to refuse!”

“But-“

“And a sign of distrust and ang-”

Obi-Wan sighed. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I’m pregnant,” he explains gently, “I’m very sorry, but I can’t drink the wine.”

The dining room went dead silent. Even the King gaped at Obi-Wan. He shifted in his seat, did he say something wrong? He just prevented one disaster; he honestly doesn’t have the energy to avert another.

“You’re… you’re PREGNANT!” The King’s face was deathly pale.

“… Yes? It’s twins.”

Someone choked on their food, and he heard a fevered “Twins? By the Gods: it’s a miracle!”.

The King buried his face in his hands, “Oh, little Gods. Great One’s forgive us! Come, we must soothe you so the babies can be safe! All of this stress is terrible for them… the risk of miscarriage… Gods, you defeated an entire army of those creatures by YOURSELF... We made you negotiate and THREATENED you…”

The King began muttering to himself under his breath, and the Lords and ladies looked horrified.

“Is everything okay?” Obi-Wan asked cautiously. Even Anakin seemed wary.

“No, everything is not okay!” the King shuddered, “Please, you must allow us to help you. You should not have been under all this stress. If we knew then none of this would have happened! You would have been well looked after by a team of attendants.”

“Help… me? Attendants?”

Abruptly, a pair of women in robes burst through the door.

“EMERGENCY SPA TREATMENT IS HERE!” they screech and practically drag Obi-Wan out the door. Anakin is left sitting alone, a panicked look on his face as the person next to him gripped their fork threateningly. “Don’t worry, Master Kenobi, we’ll save your baby!”

“I don’t understand. My children are perfectly safe, I assure you.”

They shake their heads, “We’re saving your baby, Master Kenobi,” they say at the exact same time, nearly crying, “All this stress isn’t good for you, so we're going to make you more relaxed than you’ve been in your life.”

He sincerely doubts that. Nothing could possibly be more relaxing than meditation or time alone, but he supposes they can do their best. What are they going to do, give him a foot rub? He almost snorts- as if that’s going to relax him.

Obi-Wan was floating on a cloud of pure bliss. It’s nice- really nice. While his body happily melts into the massage table, his mind drifts. He’s floating, free. Joy and harmony ebb and flow like the tide- he is a mere grain of sand in the mighty currents of the force. He is nothing- he has no need to worry or stress, just float- drift away. He just is.

Distantly, he hears hushed voices in the background. After some effort, he identifies two of the voices as Cody and Anakin. He feels their presence and washes over them, clumsily embracing their light. Anakin gently nudges him, and he feels the amusement-joy-brother-father-fond-I-love-you-My-Master. He lets the feelings flow over him and in him, wiggling happily.

“Did you drug him?” Cody whispers. Obi-Wan giggles, because what did it matter? He’s feeling wonderful.  

“Yes, but don’t worry, Commander Cody, it is pregnancy safe. We would never do anything to endanger a child. In fact, it benefits him. I’ve never seen anyone so tense in the shoulders. We can give you some to take with you, if you like.”

Anakin laughs softly, “This reminds me of the magic potion incident.”

“The what?”

“Obi-Wan accidentally got high and drunk this one time when he was twenty-six. He started a bar fight, cried a lot, sat on Windu’s lap, and made Master Plo read us a bedtime story. All with a Stewjoni accent.”

He felt a burst of humour and worry. He didn’t really understand what Anakin saying, but he felt happy, so Obi-Wan was happy. He giggled again, lazily lolling his head to the side.

“… I don’t know how to react to that.”

A snort. “Nobody does. I better go grab him before they leave without us.”

“No, no- I got him. You go back, sir, I’ll take care of the General.”

Fondness. Amusement. Glee.

“Alright then, Commander, you take care of Obi-Wan. Just be careful that he doesn’t go all Obi-Pus on you.”

“Obi-what?”

Another soft laugh, “You’ll find out.” And then Anakin was gone. He felt a bit sad, but Cody was still here. Cody made everything better, and he’s really, really happy that he’s not leaving him. Not like everyone else.

Footsteps. A warm presence by his side. A hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him.

“Come on, sir, time to get up.”

Obi-Wan whined. He doesn’t want to get up, he’s comfy! And warm! Why can’t he just nap here?

“Noooe, Cody, a’m sae comfy. A’m a noodle!”

He waved his floppy arm in the air to show Cody just how loose his limbs are. Those nice ladies massaged him for hours and gave him some nice happy tea.

“Nooooddllee!” he coos, “A’m an Obi-Noodle.”

He hears Cody chuckle. It’s a nice sound. He likes it. Cody should laugh more often. It makes his insides all warm.

“Thank you, sir.”

Did he say that out loud?

“Yes, sir, you did.” Cody sounds amused. Warmth fills his chest- if Cody is happy then everything is okay.  He likes making Cody happy. Wants Cody to be happy all the time.

“Do you think you can stand?” Cody gently rubs at his back and ah, that feels nice. He leans into the touch and happily grumbles, tilting his neck to the side. He still doesn’t want to get up. Why would he go and do a silly thing like that? He’s all nice and loose, and the massage table is fluffy. Like a bunny. He likes bunnies. So cute.

He whines, squashing his face into the fluffiness.

“That’s a no,” Cody mutters, “Well, up we get, sir.”

Strong, warm arms turn him onto his back, and they loop under his knee and back. Cody effortlessly picked him and holds him close, and it feels really, really nice. His arms are strong, and they hold him so perfectly.

He leans his head against Cody’s chest and listens to his heartbeat. It’s strong. Like drums. The drums that are steady, just like his friend. He’d like to listen more often. Maybe at night so he can fall asleep easier- it’s such a nice heartbeat. 

Obi-Wan squirms in his arms, then latches onto Cody’s torso with all of his strength. He doesn’t want to let go. Distantly, he hears Cody murmur ‘So this is the Obi-Pus.’

“Did ah dae guid, Cody?” He asks sleepily, clinging to Cody’s blacks.

The arms around him tighten minutely.

“Yes sir, you did. You always do good.”

There’s something he can’t grasp in his voice. It’s deep and full of longing and warmth, and whenever he tries to focus on it, the bright tides of the force divert his attention. Cody carries him for what feels like forever. They move together, as one, as they gently drift away.

Eventually, they arrive somewhere that Obi-Wan can’t quite remember, but it feels familiar. There are many life forces here- each so different and unique, and he knows them all. He’s set down on a soft bed after Cody manages to pry him off his chest.

Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to open his eyes- they’re too heavy, like his eyelids are made of iron instead of fragile flesh. A heavy weight joins him on the bed, sitting next to him. 

A finger gently runs across his cheek, so gentle that he can hardly feel it, and briefly traces over his lips. Longingly. Hair is brushed away from his eyes, and he arches his head into the touch. That feel’s really nice. Luckily, Cody understood and began carding his strong hands through Obi-Wan’s hair. He sighs happily, making little purring noises as he went.

Then something cold is placed around his neck? A collar? No- no it’s far too loose and light for that. It feels delicate. Like a necklace.

“I bought you this earlier, when we were at the markets,” Cody murmured, still brushing his fingers through his hair. “It’s a phoenix. I saw it, and I saw how beautiful it is, and I thought of you. I almost didn’t give it to you; I was scared. I still am, I guess, but you’ve always pushed me to be better. You, like this phoenix, are enduring. You get hurt, but you get back up again and again. I love that about you.  And I love how you are brave and kind-“

Obi-Wan stops listening after a while, but he didn’t understand what he heard anyway. He doubts he will even remember. He allows the warm presence of the force to cradle him, and ever so slowly, he begins to drift away.

He hears a soft chuckle. The weight moves from his bed, but a soft kiss is pressed to his forehead in exchange. He makes a contented noise, snuggles into the blankets, and gently falls asleep, embraced by a peculiar wave of love.

When they leave Enchuon, seventeen women fall pregnant- the women that Obi-Wan awkwardly blessed before he drank his happy tea. They took the miraculous pregnancies, more than what had been recorded in the last five years put together, as a divine sign, and promptly joined the republic and demanded that Obi-Wan Kenobi and his obvious future husband, Cody, were to be their standard liaisons.