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It was evening, the days getting long enough with the spring that it was still light after dinner. Obi-Wan followed Grievous up his front steps. He wasn’t sure what kind of house he expected, but it was sizable and white-painted, with a chain link-fenced yard. There was a two-car garage, but Grievous’s truck remained parked outside; it looked like it would barely fit through the garage door anyway.
The sound of the front door key set off a din of barking from inside. As soon as the door was open, Grievous’s small grey pitbull was hopping up and wiggling in greeting.
“Hello, Gor,” Grievous rumbled as he entered, taking off his cape and hanging it up.
“Ah, yes, hello, there,” Obi-Wan said to the excited and slightly slobbery dog trying to jump up on his leg while he closed the door behind him. He took off his scarf and hung it up, watching Grievous walk off down a hallway to the right.
“Stay down,” he said to Gor in a clear tone, wondering how many commands he actually knew. It seemed to help a little bit. He wondered if he was meant to take his shoes off - Grievous didn’t wear shoes, so he couldn’t copy. He decided to take a seat on the entryway bench to remove his boots, and Gor took the opportunity to try to lick his face.
“Yes, thank you,” he was saying with a defensive hand up when the sound of dog food being poured from another room rescued him, Gor taking off down the hall with a rapid clicking of claws on tile.
Tile, there was an idea. He still wasn’t sure what to do about having Grievous over; those talons would wreak havoc on the hardwoods, but it would be awfully impolite to deny him entry over that. He stood up, deciding to leave his jacket on for the moment. It was a little on the cool side.
There was an office to the left, and a white-carpeted living room through an archway across from the entry. Obi-Wan walked into the living room, taking everything in. There were a couple of masks hanging on the wall, and a section of deer antler next to a dog bed on the floor. There was a connected kitchen on the other side of a counter.
Grievous reappeared moments later, metal sounds preceding him. “There’s wine in the fridge if you would like any.”
“Yes, thank you. I’ll get it,” Obi-Wan replied, walking to the fridge. It was immaculately clean and empty except for a single bottle of white wine in the door and a shelf of medical-looking bags of differently colored gels. He took out the bottle, and Grievous produced two glasses and a corkscrew. They retired to the couch with their glasses, Gor ignoring his bed to jump on the couch and curl up between them once he was done eating.
Some time later, it was dark outside and Obi-Wan was on his fourth glass of wine, while Grievous still had the first sitting untouched on a side table, now warm. Obi-Wan’s laughter trailed off, and he smiled mildly while Grievous finished a coughing bout.
“I really should be going soon, I do have work in the morning,” Obi-Wan told him.
“Shall I give you a ride home?”
“If you don’t mind. I don’t really want to bother Anakin right now, he’s been griping all day.”
He climbed back into Grievous’s Ford F350. It was a rather large step to get in, certainly much larger than his Prius. The engine started up with a roar. It was only a few minutes back to Obi-Wan’s house, but he decided to scan through the radio stations, skipping some pop music and static and settling on classical. He leaned back in his seat. The gas mileage of the truck was less than ideal, but there was something relaxing about the rumble of the engine that was missing in a silent hybrid. He looked out the window at the dark trees speeding by.
Grievous gave a mechanical huff and switched the station to classic rock with a clawed finger.
Obi-Wan smirked. “No appreciation for the classical greats? You know, Bach -”
“Was long outdated before you were born.”
“Ah, and this wasn’t? I’m not that old, Qymaen, and besides, I’m a history major, you can’t expect me to be completely modern. And this rock - so much noise with so little substance.”
"At least it isn't tediously slow, unlike your classical, Kenobi."
"Tediously slow? I suppose if I chalk your lack of taste up to ignorance, I can accept it."
Obi-Wan didn’t actually argue the music choice further, just turned it down one notch. He made a mental note of a few scores that he'd have to make sure Grievous listened to, just to prove him worng. It wasn't that he actually minded this music, but he did like to tease. Some classic rock was actually rather good. He had to admit, at least, that this selection suited the vehicle better. He looked over at Grievous, his face reflecting the streetlights as they passed.
Soon, they were idling in Obi-Wan’s driveway, headlights casting circles on his garage doors. The truck was warm, warmer than the cooling air outside.
“I had fun tonight,” he said, leaning over across the unreasonably wide truck to plant a kiss on Grievous’s faceplate before he climbed out. His yellow, reptilian eyes softened a little. “But do quit idling in my driveway before you stink up the whole neighborhood.”