Chapter Text
Satine was halfway through reading the first draft of a new proposal when the datapad was taken from her hands and replaced with a steaming mug of tea. “I wasn’t finished with that.”
“You are now.” Her husband-in-everything-but-name lifted her effortlessly and settled her in his lap, all without spilling a drop of her tea. “You’re on vacation. We’re all together, and enjoying a reasonably peaceful reprieve. Force knows when we’ll get an opportunity like this again.”
She sighed, relaxing slightly. “Korkie and Thea are asleep?”
“Finally. They didn’t want to let me leave.” His beard--something she still wasn’t used to, and he still hadn’t shaved--tickled as he tucked his chin into the corner of her throat and shoulder. “I’ve been gone too long.”
“You had no choice.” He did, but he’d given her the weight of it, leaving them at an impasse, for she had made it clear that she wouldn’t ask, and he wouldn’t leave unless she did. Before, he had begged her to ask and she’d refused, unwilling to live with the guilt. Now, though she knew he would leave the order if she asked, the enthusiasm was no longer there, and she would never force him to do something against his will.
If he wanted to continue to choose his prize apprentice over her and their children, that was his choice,
She felt him tense, no doubt having sensed what she was thinking about. “Satine…”
“Don’t, Obi=Wan.” The atmosphere ruined, she pushed herslf up, grabbing her datapad and climbing back on the bed. “Say his name and you’re free to leave.”
“Fine. I won’t. But don’t think you’re getting away that easy.” He snatched the datapad from her grasp with the Force before bounding across the bed and wrestling her into his arms. “You will cuddle with me, and you will like it.”
She struggled weakly, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had gathered. “But I’m mad at you. And your hands are cold.”
“Cold?” Satine squeaked when he stood, sweeping her up bridal style and stomping out of their room. “My hands are cold?”
She couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled in her throat. “What are you doing?”
He made a sound of badly feigned anger. “You said my hands are cold, madame, so I’m going to warm them.” With a wave of his fingers, the door to the library opened, and he stomped his way over to the fireplace. Lowering them to the pile of abandoned blankets and cushions stacked in front of it, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “There. Are you satisfied, Your Grace?”
“Yes, my love.” She kissed him back before snuggling deeper into his arms, basking in the warmth of the fire. “Yes, I believe I’m quite satisfied indeed.”
Word Count: 463