Chapter Text
The words are so nonsensical, so positively absurd and deranged that for a moment Obi-Wan believes he has misheard him entirely. Or, barring that, has at some point hit his head so hard that he is now hallucinating.
“What?” He asks, forgoing all manners entirely. Now is not a time for pleasantry and niceties. Not now, not when he is certain he has misheard Anakin say-
“I’m in love with you. I wish to marry you.”
The shock does not hit the same the second time. Obi-Wan had rather hoped it would, had hoped that perhaps hearing it for a second time would knock him loose. Instead he is still standing frozen in front of the large hearth in the drawing room, staring down the face of his friend that has, at long last, succumbed to madness.
Anakin will not be deterred. He stares back with his dark, sharp eyes, his brow slightly scrunched in the way it did when he was particularly on about something. His entire face is set in a way that is all too familiar to Obi-Wan. It is the face he wears when he is fighting to get something. To obtain what he wants, and believes he rightfully deserves.
That is when the shock washes over a third time, because Obi-Wan now realizes that he is being serious .
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan snaps, suddenly very angry and very, very scared, “This is entirely inappropriate.”
Anakin’s face smooths over to confusion, his lips pulling into a frown. It is obvious that out of all of Obi-Wan’s arguments that he had no doubt come well stocked to deflect, this was not one of them. “Inappropriate? It is the courting season.”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan hisses, “Your very first courting season and very well past my last courting season. For godsake , Anakin.”
Anakin’s face now turns petulant again, “I'm of age now, I’m not some child.”
And, well, yes, that is true. Anakin most certainly is not the grabby handed little boy Obi-Wan had first met, nor the knobby kneed teenager Obi-Wan had then become friends with. Anakin is a viscount now. His face, once always somewhat rounded compared to Obi-Wan's, now holds the angle of a jaw line, one made very prominent when Anakin tilts his head up to make his points. He also cut off all of his baby hair, and now his fine golden locks sit in the style of the other gentlemen of the courts. Windblown, wavy, and stopped at his chin. Not to mention the fact that he has, finally, caught up with Obi-Wan height wise. And in fact surpassed him. Now their heated discussions keep them eye to eye, toe to toe.
Like just now.
Obi-Wan shakes his head, “I’ve known you since you were small, Anakin. If…people will assume that I have waited on you, that I have been planning this since we were…since you were-”
“Why would I care what they think? I’ve never cared before. I’m allowed to court whomever I choose.”
“Anakin, I know it can be stifling. I’m sure your mother has put an unspeakable amount of pressure on you to find a spouse, but I promise, you will not be without sutors. And you will find someone to fall for.”
Now, Anakin rolls his eyes. Impossible. Infuriating. “Obi-Wan, I am not worried about my prospects. This is not about some…some frightened hang up or yearning for familiarity. Though,” His eyes softened, his hands gripping his riding hat tightly, swaying forward, “I would be lying if I said that familiarity had not shaped my decision. To marry your friend, is that not a lovely prospect?”
“This is a misguided infatuation, Anakin. I am your friend, you have always loved me. You are confused.”
It happened often enough, didn’t it? Boys idolized older boys, wanted to be their friend and equal. That was certainly how it had been at the beginning of their relationship. Anakin trailing after Obi-Wan, tugging on his coattails until Obi-Wan had finally given him the chance to be equals. But, even as Anakin had grown out of the age of hero worship, he had steadfastly still sung Obi-Wan’s praises. Obi-Wan was the cleverest, the wittiest, the kindest. It had seemed that their friendship would forever remain tainted with that initial streak of devotion.
“I am not confused! And I am not too young, Padme is to be wed at the end of the season as well. There is no point in stumbling through season after season for propriety’s sake, not when you know what you want.”
Obi-Wan felt like another blow had been dealt, “Padme is to be wed?”
“Yes. To Sabe.” Anakin cracks a small smile, his shoulders loosening, “She is already commissioning a dress.”
That match did not surprise him in the slightest. Both had seemed rather eager, and almost vulgarly impatient, for them to turn of age. Though privately Obi-Wan has suspected they had carried on an affair for a full season before. Unfortunately for Anakin, this argument had only solidified in Obi-Wan’s mind what he had suspected all along.
“So, you are blindly following in your friend’s footsteps.”
“What? No! This has nothing to do with her! Obi-Wan ,” He steps forward, exasperatedly running a hand through his hair, “You have always been my friend, my closest companion. No one else knows my thoughts, my feelings as you do. There is no one else, no one who could possibly compare to you. Who else could govern by my side?”
“That is it, then? You wish to use my bond with you as a means to an end of your political career? That is hardly a reason for marriage Anakin, I would not have you as an employer.”
“It seems like you would not have me at all,” Anakin is shaking his head, staring at him in a way that can only be disbelief, “Surely you cannot be this oblivious of my affection towards you, Obi-Wan. Surely you must know that I think you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. And I have been hopelessly greedy for your attentions, for your eyes to fall on me, if only once .”
“Anakin…”
Anakin prowls closer, “I will not be negotiated with. I want all of you, forever. Completely. I want your spirit, your mind, your body-”
“ Anakin! ”
“We can court as long as you want, as long as you need. I’ll have contracts drawn up, to convince your father. We need not make it a public affair, we can skip every dance this season. You may set the terms, for whatever you wish. As long as you just say yes .”
Obi-Wan can only stare at him. His gaze is intense, staring a hole right through him. His shoulders are drawn, his mouth set in its familiar moue. He knows that this will not be an argument won, knows that he will never be able to change his mind, make him come to understand.
There is a reason that Obi-Wan is in his last season with no serious offers of courting. There are well known rumors as to why Obi-Wan Kenobi is a shut off spinster. Anakin knows this as well, and he has conveniently left it out of the argument entirely. He knows that he has done it very deliberately, a way to show Obi-Wan that even that will not be used against him.
He realizes, rather uncomfortably, that there is a desperate, unloved part of himself that wishes to just say yes . Obi-Wan had always dreamed of being married. He had always wanted to run a house, large or small, and be quietly loved by another. A person of Obi-Wan’s standing and reputation could do no better than a viscount. In fact, it is more than he deserves. A viscount that loves him, that shares in his laughter as well as his sadness, is an even rarer occurrence. This is a dream, served to him on a golden platter.
But he could not do that to Anakin. He could not marry him, when he did not love him the same. He could not use him in that way. And he could not dirty Anakin with himself.
“No.”
It has the effect that Obi-Wan had expected. Anakin leans back, obvious hurt and confusion painted on his face. He stares for a moment, searching, before he seems to switch his approach, tilting his chin up, breathing deep and then opening his mouth.
“I will not be persuaded, Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupts, “My answer is no, you will respect it.”
His mouth clicks shut, and his eyes narrow. He tilts his head down to peer at Obi-Wan. Not quite a glare, but too close.
“I will,” He murmurs, “I will leave you, Obi-Wan.”
He turns to the door, his cloak flying behind him. As he stalks to the door in quick, angry steps Obi-Wan watches him shove his riding hat on, and then reach for the door.
He has the door open and is stepping out when he suddenly pauses, then turns back, eyeing Obi-Wan and frowning.
He then storms out, slamming the door behind him.
…
Obi-Wan sits at the fireplace in his rooms for the rest of the day starting at the far wall, and only moving when one of the maids comes in to ask if they should start the fire for the night. The cold always upsets his bad leg, so Obi-Wan gives his assent, then instead stares at the crackling fire.
Only Anakin would be so bold. Would walk into his halls, like he owns the entire damn house, only to find Obi-Wan and demand of him. After the rush of the encounter, and the deep sickening shame of knowing that things between them would now be different, be tainted, came a sick swell of anger.
How dare he? This, he stewed bitterly, was the cost of Anakin Skywalker. When had he ever been told no, or denied of anything? And what was worse, Obi-Wan had always been just as guilty. When, in his entire time of knowing Anakin, had he genuinely curved the boy's intense enthusiasm? His abrasive, personal questions?
When they had met, Obi-Wan on the cusp of his first season, feeling for all the world like a youngling still pretending at adulthood, and Anakin still young enough to not care about the dirty knees on his breeches, Obi-Wan had seen himself as more of a mentor to the boy. He was older, he had no siblings, just distant cousins, and always thought himself good with children.
It had become obvious rather quickly that Anakin did not want mentorship or guidance. He had his mother for that, and to a certain extent Obi-Wan’s own family. What Obi-Wan had approached as a congenial fraternity had become friendship. Very close friendship. Anakin, often happy and kind, had the occasional temper. He would get worked up over his studies, responsibilities, and his mother’s continuously failing health. And while he was not hesitant to mention these things to Obi-Wan, he would always then demand that Obi-Wan fret in return.
“You have to complain back,” He would say, “That’s what friends do, otherwise it isn’t fair.”
Things must be fair to Anakin. So Obi-Wan did. Then it became sharing books back and forth, debating in the early hours in Anakin’s rooms, Anakin demanding he join him to plays, picnics, riding dangerously across the countryside.
Everywhere he turned, Anakin stood. No, they were no longer mentor and mentee. They were friends. Closer than friends. Confidantes. Conspirators. Soft conversations in front of fires and shared griefs.
And now, Anakin had gone and…and propositioned him. How mortifying, how completely stupid and selfish and-
Obi-Wan decides, for not the first time that day, that he has had enough. He goes to bed.