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Walking into Dex’s was such a relief that Obi-Wan sighed immediately upon crossing the threshold. They were coming back from a difficult and taxing several day affair in the Mid-Rim involving far too many explosions, too many gundarks, and far too much of the two together, a truly disgusting end to a mission that they’d had barely had time to shower off before reaching Coruscant. It was, to put it mildly, not how he liked to start a day.
Anakin and him had decided unanimously that they deserved a break after all of that, and so Dex’s it was. The diner was familiar, friendly, and warm, and it was a welcome reprieve from the stresses of the past few days, and a necessary chance to relax before having to go before the Council and give their post-mission reports. They weren’t really supposed to make stops before going back to the Temple, were supposed to head back straightaway to keep their memory fresh, but if Obi-Wan didn’t sit down for an hour and talk about something that wasn’t related to gundarks, their innards, or the explosions that exposed said innards, he was going to have some sort of breakdown. Anakin had expressed the same, much more vocally than Obi-Wan, and he couldn’t disagree with his apprentice’s vehemence.
The diner was exactly what they needed; Dex greeted them as always with a big smile and even bigger hug (Obi-Wan noted with amusement and fondness that the 15 year old no longer disappeared inside said hug), and they were ushered immediately off to a booth in the middle of the restaurant with a window seat. The gray traffic buzzing by on the upper levels of Coruscant was a welcome background noise and sight, and Obi-Wan felt himself relaxing bit by bit.
Anakin already had his nose pressed into his menu. He’d been very adamant about the good food part of their stop at Dex’s and his eyes were intent on the options before him.
Obi-Wan hummed idly and followed his example, perusing the choices.
Ultimately he ended up getting what he often did: fried tubers and a protein burger and a water, while Anakin ordered salad and a steak sandwich and a milkshake.
The waitress who took their order sped off, and they were left in comfortable silence for a few minutes to take in the warm ambiance of the diner, the din of chitchat and pleasant lighting on the red accents making the whole place seem to glow with a buzzing but enjoyable energy. Soon, they received their food and Anakin dived into his, digesting nearly the entire salad at once, and then moving on to the sandwich.
He went to take several of Obi-Wan’s tubers, which earned him a gentle smack from Obi-Wan towards his hand. “Get your own,” he said.
“I got something else,” Anakin complained, and very rudely tried again to sneak more of them. He was successful this time, quick reflexes now being misused for nefarious tuber-stealing purposes.
In retaliation, Obi-Wan reached over and directly grabbed the cherry off his milkshake, popping it into his mouth with satisfaction.
“No!” Anakin protested. “That’s mine!”
“Now you know how I feel,” Obi-Wan said imperiously.
Anakin hmph’ed and, totally unrepentant, dumped half of Obi-Wan’s plate onto his.
“Hey!” he said, affronted.
“You took my cherry,” Anakin said, though his mouth was full, so it came out more like yoo tooth mah jerry. He swallowed, thankfully, and then added mock-seriously, “I have nothing to lose now.”
Obi-Wan laughed. He felt his shoulders relax further, spirit lifting. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he chastised, instead of trying to fight for the return of his tubers. And, seeing how Anakin slouched over his meal, he added absently, “And sit up straight.”
Anakin grumbled like the teenager he was, and reluctantly straightened to a posture more befitting of a Jedi apprentice. He looked up to give Obi-Wan a look that showed his displeasure, when he suddenly seemed to freeze, and then stiffen.
“What?” Obi-Wan asked, automatically on alert--it was hard to quell post-mission instincts.
Anakin didn’t respond. He had a calculating and determined glint in his eye that Obi-Wan rarely saw from him.
He looked down at Anakin’s food. It seemed fine--beside the fries, it was nearly gone, in fact, which proved that there was nothing wrong with it. And it’s not like anyone else had approached their table to make Anakin anxious or wary. His apprentice’s gaze was fixed solidly on him.
“What is it?” he asked with trepidation. He put a hand on his head. “Is there something in my hair?” It also seemed fine, if a bit messy from his quick shower less than an hour ago.
“Sit up straight,” his apprentice said finally.
He did, in annoyance, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Are you saying that just to be contrary, Padawan? Bec--”
Anakin didn’t appear to hear him at all, because his Padawan’s eyes lit up as soon as he sat up, an awed look dawning on his young face. “I am!” he crowed, interrupting his Master.
Obi-Wan paused, confused by the direction of this conversation. “Are what?”
“Here,” Anakin said, getting up despite Obi-Wan’s protests and coming around to his side of the booth. “Stand up,” he demanded firmly, right then and there.
“Anakin--”
“Do it!” His Padawan sounded truly focused now, face a confusing mix of exhilaration and resolve.
He sighed heavily, and followed the order to appease him. He stood and watched as Anakin’s eyes tracked him the whole time. “There,” he said. “Are you happy?”
A grin spread across his face, which he took as a yes. Obi-Wan realized Anakin was standing up properly now, too, spine as neat as possible, head held high, and he wondered what that was about, when he looked up and--
He looked up into Anakin’s face, full of youthful pride. Up.
Oh no.
“I’m taller than you!” Anakin cried
“No, you’re not,” Obi-Wan said on instinct, and then winced when he saw other patrons looking their way. “And keep your voice down--”
“No!” Anakin said happily. “I am! I’m taller than you now!”
“What’s all this?” said Dex, drying his hands on a towel behind the counter. He dropped the towel and walked over, hands on hips.
“I’m taller than him,” Anakin said to him triumphantly, for the third time.
“No, you’re not,” Obi-Wan snapped. “Stand up straight--stop leaning up, just stand--”
Anakin did. And Obi-Wan did the same. And found that he was the one who had to artificially draw himself up, heels leaving the floor, to meet Anakin’s eyes head on--
“No,” Obi-Wan said automatically, in horror, “that’s not fair--”
“I am!”
“He is,” Dex echoed, amusement clear in his voice. He was looking between the two of them, especially at their heads, comparing for himself, and oh, Force, Obi-Wan was never going to live this down. He could already see it. He could already see the end.
Anakin grinned wider, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. “See? You’re short, Master.”
“I am not,” Obi-Wan said, offense clear in his voice, and he heard someone in the booth beside them suppress a snort. His ears burned a little, but he also resisted the urge to smile--Anakin and Dex did not resist this urge.
“Aw, let him have this, Obi-Wan!” Dex said, throwing an arm over his shoulders, and to his chagrin, he had to look up at the Besalisk as well. “It’s my firm belief that all young men should get to be taller than their fathers--or, well, in your case, Masters. I still remember the day I realized I was taller than my father.” He shared a conspiratorial look with Anakin.
He was doing that on purpose. Obi-Wan knew it. He glared, and Dex laughed.
“You’re just mad because you never got that experience.”
“Because you’re short,” Anakin added helpfully.
“It would take a Togruta to be taller than Qui-Gon Jinn,” Obi-Wan said snarkily. He was allowed to make height jokes about his dead Master. If he didn’t, no one else would, and that was just depriving the world of perfect opportunities to make fun of Qui-Gon Jinn’s stupidly incredible height--something he had never refrained from doing when he was still the man’s Padawan. Nor had Dex.
Dex laughed again, and patted Anakin’s back. “Don’t mind him, he’s just bitter. Don’t forget,” he added, moving closer to Anakin, and oh, Obi-Wan could hear the schadenfreude, “you’re still only 15. You’re gonna keep growing for a few more years yet.”
Anakin’s whole face transformed. It was clear he had not yet considered that.
“Stop throwing fuel on the fire, Dex,” Obi-Wan complained, but his joking ire had faded back into exasperated humor.
“Never,” the Besalisk declared.
He sighed and began to move back to the booth. “Come on, sit down,” he said to his Padawan. “You’re making enough of a scene as it is.” And it was true, Obi-Wan heard the snickers and saw the looks from a few of the regulars up at the counter watching the interaction with amusement. It was embarrassing, but nice--the feeling of being one of many in such a homey environment, all enjoying their food and conversation and watching with rapt attention whenever someone else was having fun. It was exactly why they’d come to Dex’s before making their way back to the Temple. It warmed him.
Anakin obeyed happily, sliding back into his seat now that his point had been made.
Dex sat as well, apparently enjoying this way too much, scooting Anakin over to make room. “You know he hasn’t grown since he was 13,” he said conversationally to Anakin, about him.
Obi-Wan sighed at the return of one of Dex’s favorite old topics to tease him about. It’d been years since Dex had brought this up, and he was dismayed to hear it again, especially in this context.
“He hasn’t?” Anakin said eagerly. He was always eager to hear Dex’s stories and jokes about Obi-Wan during his Padawan years. Traitor.
“Nope. He was so tall when he was little, I remember when we met the first time I was shocked by how big he was! Very unusual for a human at his age. And then he never grew again, who knows why.”
“Qui-Gon stole all the height in our duo,” Obi-Wan added, just to hear Anakin laugh. He smiled when it worked. He’d made that joke many times before--so had both Dex and Qui-Gon over the course of many years’ visits--but Anakin had never heard it.
“Maybe you’ll get the rest of it now,” Dex offered, nudging Anakin with his elbow. Anakin grinned, and then looked back to Obi-Wan to see his reaction. He had no problem sitting up straight now, and Obi-Wan wondered if he was never going to have to tell his apprentice that again, now that he could so clearly take so much pleasure in his superiority over his Master.
Obi-Wan stole some of his tubers back now that Anakin was distracted, and his apprentice didn’t even seem to mind.
“I’m going to,” the young Jedi declared to Dex, as if he had any control over how tall he got, as if force of will was enough to sprout several inches taller. It had never worked for Obi-Wan, but if anyone could harnish sheer willpower to make the universe bend to his whim, it was Anakin.
Obi-Wan smiled at the thought. “I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to, Anakin,” he said indulgently, watching the way Anakin’s eyes crinkled in glee at the praise.
Dex swiped a tuber as well and stood. “I have to get back to work, but lemme get the two of you some pie--on the house,” he said vehemently, when he saw Obi-Wan beginning to protest. “In celebration!” He patted Anakin’s shoulder, and walked off before Obi-Wan could argue in earnest, already calling for two orders of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s favorite types of pie.
He sighed, for the millionth time, and looked back to his Padawan, who still exuded youthful enthusiasm. He looked so young--and he was--right on the cusp of when his body would mature in the final stages of teenage years into an adult. He would still be Obi-Wan’s Padawan for years to come afterwards, but things would change. Anakin wouldn’t look at him anymore with that childish idolization he did now that made Obi-Wan warm and fond. They’d be more like partners, like him and Qui-Gon had been in their final years together. And then, later, Anakin would be knighted, and would go on missions by himself, and probably even have a Padawan of his own at some point.
These next years would be some of the last few they’d have together like this--pure and untainted, with missions that were more inconvenient--tedious and gross--than anything else, before Anakin was old enough for the truly difficult ones. Before the sweetness in his face was replaced with maturity and--well, Obi-Wan didn’t think Anakin would ever acquire that longed for serenity much of the Jedi Order sought after, but he’d develop into something more composed and mellower.
It filled him with a sense of bittersweet pride. Happy to see his Padawan come so far from where they’d been, knowing how far he still had to go, but sad to realize so much time had passed already, and more was on its way. Knowing someday he’d look back on these days with the same feeling.
Obi-Wan reached out and pulled Anakin’s milkshake towards him.
“Hey,” his Padawan called, trying to grab it back.
“I’ll get you another one,” Obi-Wan said playfully, holding it out of reach. “And I promise not to steal the cherry this time.”
“I’m holding you to that,” Anakin said loftily, and then went back to finishing off his food.
Soon, the waitress brought their pies and Anakin’s new milkshake to the table, and Anakin looked so pleased, just by the sight of some dessert post-mission, that Obi-Wan’s heart clenched. He didn’t want Anakin to ever lose that innocent joy.
Anakin caught him smiling at him and pulled away from his milkshake with a puzzled look. “What is it, Master?”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “Enjoy your milkshake.”
Anakin shrugged and did as he was told.
Feeling a bit melancholy, Obi-Wan reached out and affectionately kicked Anakin’s leg, just to get a reaction.
Anakin smirked at him around his straw, elbow on the table and chin in his hand, and contentedly kicked him back.