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“Sir, if I may ask, what are we hurrying for?” Captain Rex questioned his General as they marched through the Jedi Temple hallways, a squad of the 501st trailing behind them.
“Obi-Wan’s cooking,” Anakin replied shortly, glaring at fellow Jedi as they also hurried in the same direction. “She only knows how to cook three things: waffles, curry, and pasta, but she’s really, really good at cooking them and if we don’t hurry, Ahsoka and the others are going to eat it all before we get there!”
When they had arrived on Coruscant, in the Starfighter hanger of the Temple, they had seen Master Plo rush past them without so much as a greeting. His troopers looked amused but eager as they followed him towards the Jedi living quarters. At once Anakin knew what was happening and charged after them, calling for Rex and the other’s to follow.
Rex thought he was being ridiculous. Sure, ration bars weren’t the most flavorful of meals, but they provided what they needed to and that’s what counted. And all of this hubbub, for what? Food? The Jedi mess hall must be worse than Kamino’s to garner this intense reaction.
Just as he was slowing down to talk some sense into Anakin, after all they had just come back from a mission and the men were tired, the most delicious aroma he’d ever smelt began to waft down the hallway.
“What..?” Rex trailed off in amazement. The troopers followed suit and those who hadn’t taken off their helmets did so, drawing in air greedily. Echo and Fives exchanged a look of intrigue. “What is that?”
Anakin inhaled deeply and nearly snarled at the buttery sweet scent. “Waffles. Kriff, when Obi-Wan stress cooks, she makes way more than needed but everyone always fights over the left overs when she makes waffles. We have to hurry. Mace and Yoda only ever show up for the waffles and curry.”
They broke into a brisk jog and as they neared General Kenobi’s quarters, there was an increase in smell and noise as people chattered while waiting for their turn for food. Ahsoka stood by the door way, plate of waffles in hand as she ate and managed the traffic with a wave of her syrup covered fork.
When she spotted Anakin and company rushing towards her, she grinned haughtily. “Almost didn’t think you were going to make it, Skyguy. Master Obi-Wan’s finishing up and the stacks of food are getting shorter and shorter.” She sing-songed as Anakin brushed past her into his former living room. “Rex, Fives, Echo, my guys, you gotta try the blueberry syrup, she made it with real berries this time.”
Anakin let out a cry of indignation as she followed them in. “What?! She never makes it when I’m at the Temple!”
“That’s because you get selfish and don’t want to share,” Mace responded calmly, seated next to him on the sofa was Depa Billaba and her Padawan Caleb Dume, whose mouth was blue-tinged and sticky as he heartily dug into his food. His Master and Grandmaster were more sedate in their eating, but their plates were equally full. They shared matching looks of content serenity, although Depa hid a giggle behind her hand at Knight Skywalker’s insulted expression.
Opening his mouth to retort, Anakin grumbled, deciding food was a bigger priority and fled to the kitchen. “Master!” He didn’t whine, but it was a near thing. “Why didn’t you tell me you were making waffles?”
Obi-Wan observed him as he slumped against her side, pulling away her hand so her batter-covered whisk wouldn’t touch his robes. “Anakin, I didn’t know. It was a spur of the moment decision,” she replied, petting his hair with her free hand. Behind her Cody and Waxer were cooking the last of the batter mix, trading laughing looks at Anakin’s childish nature. The 212th had been the first to eat and now were overseeing things alongside Commander Tano. Although how the Togruta had sensed Obi-Wan’s urge to cook before anyone else was a mystery, she had hunted them down within minutes of the first waffle being made.
Boil, Wooley, Crys, Gearshift, Longshot and Trapper were all doggedly keeping people from stealing seconds until everyone had gotten their first plate. It was more difficult than expected as certain Jedi (Kit Fisto, Adi Gallia, Yoda) were not above using the Force to levitate extra helpings to their plate. How was a trooper supposed to respectfully reprimand Jedi Masters, especially the Grand Master himself? Who looked unlawfully satisfied as he sat in his hover chair with a stack of waffles that was taller than himself.
“Is there any homemade syrup left? Can I have some?” The Chosen One asked, batting his blue eyes at her.
Obi-Wan wasn’t fazed. “I’m not sure, Anakin, go wait in line like everyone else.”
“But-”
“The longer you wait, the less there will be.”
He looked so heartbroken Obi-Wan heaved a big sigh and patted him on the shoulder. “Fine, if there is none left, I will make more. Happy? Now go.” She shooed him away.
“You spoil him, General.”
“I know, Cody. I know.”
Now Anakin was at the very end of the line, Ahsoka leaning against the wall opposite him with a smirk as he anxiously watched the multiple stacks deplenish. Why were clone troopers and Jedi so hungry?! He resisted the urge to tear at his hair.
Finally, Plo and his men had wandered off with their prizes to a corner that was occupied by Windu’s troopers. A part of Anakin wanted to Force push aside his own men to get at the remaining waffles but they had never had Obi-Wan’s cooking before, the war and endless missions made this gathering near impossible. So, he waited with bated breath until it was finally his turn.
There were only two and a half waffles left, but he enthusiastically snatched them up. However as soon as he touched the decanter that held the syrup, he knew there wasn’t enough and deflated like a popped balloon.
“Here,” a Coruscanti accent more familiar than his own voice spoke up from behind him, filled with a weary mirth. “Your syrup, Padawan mine.”
For a moment he gawked at her in pure adoration and he had to blink back tears before generously topping his food with sugary, berry-filled goodness she held in her hands. His first bite was heaven and he leaned dramatically on Obi-Wan again as the woman endured his weight with the air of someone well used to his antics. He noticed she was not eating and shyly offered her some of his own food.
“Thank you, but no thank you, dear one. Somehow or other I’ve gotten full while I cooked. I think tea will do the trick however,” she murmured the last part thoughtfully and walked back into the kitchen. To her surprise, Waxer had already poured her a cup.
“Ah, thank you, darling.” She smiled, cupping his cheek briefly. He all but glowed at the touch and praise. Cody rolled his eyes but was swift to pull out a chair for Obi-Wan to sit in, claiming the seat next to her and leaning close enough to brush shoulders. The rest of the 212th wandered into the kitchen and settled down around her as there was nothing left guard. The red-haired Jedi sighed in contentment, surrounded by her men and good friends.
Rex set down his empty plate and looked around. While he was not Force sensitive, he could practically feel the tranquility in the room. Mace and Kit were discussing the merits of knowing shatter points versus underwater breathing, not hostilely but there was an air of competition. Adi sat between them, looking incredibly entertained.
Yoda had a crowd of sticky, sleepy younglings curled up on pillows around his hover chair and the old frog didn’t look so intimidating for once, half-asleep himself. Depa and Caleb had joined him, her Padawan resting his head on her lap as she combing through his hair with her fingers.
Plo, while unable to eat the food without taking off his rebreather mask, was literally drinking a cup of syrup through a straw. The Wolfpack was alternating between bites and staring at him in reverence, because really, was there nothing their General could not do?
The food was delicious despite the fact Rex really wasn’t one for sweets. This, though, was better than any meal. Seeing the Jedi and their troops behaving like people, like family.
“Alright, Skywalker,” He confessed at Anakin’s victorious grin, his General savoring each mouthful of his Master’s cooking. “I get it.”