Chapter Text
Meditation did not come easily. In fact, it didn’t come at all. Obi-Wan sat on his meditation mat, incense burning low, and stewed. The Force shunned his attempts to give over his feelings. It felt like trying to shove a banatha into a closet. No matter how hard he tried, it would not fit.
A baby. His master wanted a klarking baby.
Since when did his master even like children? They’d been on missions with children before, but his master had never shown a particular interest towards them. Often, they seemed to grate on his nerves. The man’s patience was erratic at the best of times. He could devote hours to tinkering with droids, but could not wait a moment before launching into battle. He was all motion and movement, kinetic energy made flesh.
How would he react to a child throwing a tantrum or the arduous process of teaching one to be a person? Force, what if his child turned out just like him, a little hellion on stubby legs, chasing after droids and causing chaos throughout the temple? How would he deal with that? How would the Jedi deal with two of them?
It was, frankly, incomprehensible. Like one of Obi-Wan’s anxiety dreams brought to life. He longed for the days when his biggest worry was whether he’d be tossed to the Argicrops or reassigned to the Temple’s finance department. At least there, he’d have some modicum of control over the situation.
Shame flared in him. Not just at his thoughts, but the way he had acted. He had been emotional, letting his feelings lead his words and behavior. His master had expected better of him. Maybe not joy at the prospect, but at least respect for his decision. Acceptance of the inevitable and the ability to let go, like a good Jedi would.
Obi-Wan couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let Anakin go. His master had saved him. Not just from being shipped off after Qui-Gon’s death, but from the insurmountable grief that had hit him in the wake of his passing. Anakin had refused to let him drown in peace, to let him isolate himself and nurse his shattered heart and scarred mind. His new master had dragged him out of bed every morning for months, had given him puzzles to keep his mind occupied and practice drills to keep his body moving. He had given him a purpose when everything felt pointless.
He owed Anakin everything. If this is what he wanted, if a baby would make him happy, how could Obi-Wan stand in the way? He couldn’t do that, not to his master, not to Anakin. He’d just have to keep his messy feelings on the matter to himself, where they belonged. He grit his teeth and be supportive, even as his master slipped further and further out of reach. He’d accept it gracefully and let go of this- this attachment he had to his master. It’s what was right, what he was expected to do, what he should do.
He… was not going to do that. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he wasn’t going to sit idly by as he lost his master, their bond, and his company all in one fell swoop. There had to be something, some way, to keep his master in his life. To bind them together in a way that no one, nothing, could sever.
What the fuck could he do? Obi-Wan wracked his brain, but no answer came to him. What he needed, he realized, was a second opinion.
Quinlan was on Delta Vega, dozens of parsecs away. His mission had been a long and tedious one, full of politics and negotiations. It would be nighttime on Delta Vega and his friend was probably catching up on sleep after a long day. He really should let him be.
Quinlan picked up on the sixth ring.
“What in sithshell do you want?” He grumbled irritably. His little hologram, showing only his upper torso and his bedhead, filled Obi-Wan’s dark room with soft blue light. He made no move to rise or to pull his head from his pillows, eyes still mostly closed. There were bags under his eyes, speaking of a difficult mission and a need for rest.
Obi-Wan took all that in, opened his mouth to apologize, and blurted out, “my master is having a baby.”
Quinlan’s hologram shattered as he bolted upright. The holodisk hit the floor with a thump before quickly being snatched back up. Quinlan was no longer barely clinging to consciousness. No, his eyes were wide, expression something comically close to panic.
“What did you just say?”
“My master is having a baby,” Obi-Wan repeated and could not keep the patheticness from creeping into his voice.
Quinlan gaped, mouth flapping open and close like a fish. His thoughts flashed across his face before settling on, quite unexpectedly, anger.
“I told you the pull out method was too risky! But did you listen to me? No, you just had to get your dick wet. Spesus, I knew I should have ratted you to Master Che. She would have knocked some sense into you before you went and-”
“What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan asked, downright baffled. “I don’t see how my sex life is relevant here. My master is having a baby , Quinlan.”
Quinlan had the audacity to give him a scathing look. “Yes, Obi-Wan. That can happen when you go and have unprotected sex with someone. Sometimes, you end up knocking them up.”
What?
“You think that I- I did no such thing!” Obi-Wan sputtered out. “My master would never- We’ve never- I am not sleeping with Anakin!”
“You’re not?” Quinlan asked, disbelief making a home on his face. “Are you sure? You’re just so,” he gestured up and down, encompassing all of Obi-Wan. “You know. Weird about each other.”
“I do not know,” Obi-Wan refuted hotly. He hoped the holo masked the sudden blush staining his cheeks. “My master and I have a perfectly normal, platonic, padawan-master relationship.”
Quinlan laughed in his face. Laughed. In his face. Obi-Wan’s eye twitched.
“It’s true!” Obi-Wan insisted. “We are not fucking. ” The last word was uttered as a whisper, lest his voice manage to crawl under his door and into his master’s ears.
Quinlan’s laughter died. “You’re serious? You’re really not hitting that? Are you stupid?”
“The next time we spar, I’m using a real saber.”
Quinlan studied him, picking him apart piece by piece. His eyes searched Obi-Wan’s face and his expression slowly grew to one of pity. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan.”
“You’re forgiven,” Obi-Wan said stiffly. “I don’t know where you even got such a ludicrous idea. Me and my master, together? That’s just ridiculous.’
Quinlan gave him an unimpressed stare. “I’m not talking about that. You two practically scream sexual tension and attachment into the Force whenever you’re together. We all know you two want to tangle like two xanthar beasts in mating season.”
“We do not!”
Quinlan continued, uncaring. “What I’m sorry about is that your master is having a baby with someone else. I can’t imagine that’s easy for you.”
Obi-Wan short circuited. He felt like an astromech who had just stuck his prod into an unprotected outlet. His brain sizzled, full of static and ready to start smoking as it spun out.
He was sorry that the baby was someone else’s? As opposed to who? Did he mean to imply that the baby should have been Obi-Wan’s? That they should have made it together? Quinlan was smoking spice. It was the only explanation for such a bizarre thought process. Obi-Wan, the father to Anakin's child? That was crazy, absurd. Obi-Wan had never even considered being a parent. His future lay with the Jedi, by his master's side. That was his place in this galaxy, the only place he had ever wanted to be.
Except that wasn't a possibility anymore. His master was leaving the order for a baby and he certainly wouldn’t be changing his mind. It was a foregone conclusion that his master would have a child. When he set his heart and mind to something, he always found a way to achieve it and damn everything and everyone that tried to get in his way. It was only a matter of time before a tiny Skywalker was toddling through the halls. His place in his master’s life was hanging by a splitting thread and soon it would snap.
“Do you know who the sire is?” Quinlan asked gently.
“I don't think he's picked one yet,” Obi-Wan murmured, distracted by his thoughts. An idea was forming, an ill-advised and irrevocable idea that would surely end in disaster and heartache. An idea on how to remain by his master’s side, no matter what twists and turns the future held, no matter where his master went, or what he did.
“He hasn't picked one? You said he was pregnant.”
“No, I said he's planning on having a baby.”
“You damn well did not.” Quinlan snapped and dragged a hand over his face. “It is too early for this.”
“My apologies,” Obi-Wan offered, still thinking.
Could he give that to Anakin? It’d make his master happy and it would keep them together, which was all Obi-Wan wanted. It certainly wouldn’t be a hardship to have something so wholly and unequivocally theirs and theirs alone. He dared to think that it might even make him happy as well. It would be an undeniable proof of their bond, of his importance in Anakin’s life.
It’d be a child.
“I’m going to sire his child.” Obi-Wan decided, speaking the thought out loud.
Across the galaxy, Quinlan made a noise like a dying elopie.