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Anakin can count on one hand all the times he’s witnessed Obi-wan voluntarily work on a droid. And yet, however unlikely, the scene before him in the dim evening light of their quarters is undeniable:
Obi-wan is hunched over their kitchen table, a grease stain swiped across his forehead as he fiddles with screwing a wheel back onto a mostly dismembered droid. His eyebrows are furrowed together in violent frustration, an expression he usually saves for only the most aggravating enemies, and when the wheel pops off and its bolt bounces off the tabletop and onto the floor, something that sounds eerily like a curse huffs out of Obi-wan. Anakin’s heart clenches; it’s so pathetic and endearing all at once.
Anakin gives a gentle push to the door behind him, letting the noise of the latch clicking into place act as a hello. Obi-wan’s head jerks up.
“You weren’t supposed to be home yet.” Obi-wan greets him, an oddly nervous—and guilty—glint in his eye.
Anakin lifts an eyebrow, lips quirked down in an amused smile as he sheds his outer robe and mindlessly throws it on the counter. “Hello to you, too.” He takes a few steps towards the table, standing next to Obi-wan, and looks down at the mess. “What are you doing?”
Obi-wan glances down at the contained junkyard and back up at him. “I’ve picked up your habits, it seems. I’m building something.” Obi-wan lies through his teeth and Anakin spots it a million miles away.
“Wait, is that—“ Anakin leans in, recognition sparking his movement, “—is that M6?”
Obi-wan stiffens.
“It is M6!”
About a year prior, on the evening of their first anniversary, Anakin had gifted Obi-wan an MSE-6 droid—a mouse droid—that was repurposed to trail after Obi-wan and tell him I love you in Anakin’s voice every few minutes. The initial intention had been a joke, something to make Obi-wan laugh, but as the days, and then months passed, Obi-wan grew oddly protective of it, swatting Anakin’s hands away whenever he offered to junk it.
A small sigh escapes Obi-wan, defeat evident in the slump of his shoulders. “I tripped over him earlier, and sent the poor thing straight into the wall. I think he’s broken.” He casts a downtrodden gaze at the scattered parts, looking like a kicked loth cat. His tone is sheepish, apologetic, and it takes everything in Anakin not to burst into laughter immediately.
“Why didn’t you wait until I got home?” Anakin asks, gently running a hand over the back of Obi-wan’s head, smoothing down his hair.
Obi-wan looks up at him with big, worried eyes. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”
Anakin can’t hold back his laughter then; it bubbles up out of him involuntarily. The whole situation is so endearing, and Anakin is so endlessly fond. It’s rare to see this side of Obi-wan, who tenderly cares for a droid just because it was a gift, the gesture reeking of attachment, and who visibly frets over the state of Anakin’s heart. Given the situation, Anakin would’ve expected Obi-wan to blame the will of the force and throw it into the trash chute without second thought. This—this uncharacteristic display of love—is strange and wonderful, an unanticipated treasure.
Anakin had always guessed the droid meant more to him than he let on, and this only confirmed it.
He leans down and delicately cups Obi-wan’s face, smudging the the grease stain further across his forehead in an attempt to clean him off, and kisses him, trying not to let his enamored smile ruin their embrace. Obi-wan tugs back at first, but softens, worrying Anakin’s bottom lip between his teeth.
Anakin gingerly shifts back, holding his face inches from Obi-wan’s. “I’ll fix him for you, okay?"—knowing Obi-wan’s history with droids, he can’t help but tease him a little—"I think you’re more likely to kill him right now.”
Slipping out of Anakin’s hold, Obi-wan stares down at the jumble of parts, pouting. “You better. I’ve grown quite fond of the little thing.”
“Who’d have thought the great Obi-wan Kenobi would ever like a droid?” Anakin chuckles, and presses one more kiss onto his forehead, right on the grease stain.
Obi-wan holds up the stray wheel. “Get on with it, then.”