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”Can you scratch my back?” Anakin asks, twisting his torso around in an apparent attempt to reach a difficult spot.
”Nope,” Ahsoka replies, pushing him back down onto the couch. “Master Kenobi told me that you’re not allowed to scratch.”
”Come on, I always give you back rubs,” he persists, digging his nails into his opposite arm.
”That’s different,” she tells him, falling down onto the cushion beside him. “Togrutas can’t even get the tip-yip pox. You just give me back rubs to be nice.”
”See? I’ve been nice to you, so in return, I’m asking you to please scratch my back for me. Or knock me out so I don’t have to deal with this stupid—what are you doing?” he laughs as she reaches her arm across him to grab his hand.
”Helping you,” she says cheerily wiggling her fingers through his other hand as well.
He looks down at the two pairs of interlocked fingers, and back up at his beaming padawan.
Clearing his throat, he asks,
”So we hold hands now?”
”Guess so.”
He tips his head to the side, and lifts one of his hands up to try and itch a spot on his neck, but Ahsoka tugs his arm back down between them.
”No scratching,” she repeats.
”I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge of who here,” he sighs, trying to pull his hand out of her scarily strong grip. “Knock it off Ahsoka,” he says, trying to keep his voice serious, but failing miserably when she nudges his shoulder with her own.
That’s often the move that starts a fight between the two of them.
He looks down at her, smirking when he sees that her lips are pulled back, showing off her fangs. She lets out a playful growl, and pounces, knocking him onto the floor.
”Oh no you don’t!” he laughs, catching her in a headlock when she tries to ram her montrals into his ribs as soon as he’s standing again.
She’s laughing too—he can feel it against his front—as she tries to kick his legs out from beneath him, but to no avail.
After holding her head beneath his arm for a good ten seconds, he lets her go, knowing that she won’t take their playful fighting any further while he’s still sick.
When he isn’t, however, their fights usually consist of lots of time spent rolling over one another on the ground, seeing who can pin who first.
Today, however, Ahsoka just takes his hands again when they settle back down on the couch, and Anakin let’s her.
”What was that for?” he chuckles softly while she tucks herself into his side.
”Don’t really know,” she giggles back. “But it stopped your scratching for a few seconds.”
”That it did,” Anakin agrees, smiling when she hoists herself into his lap, pulling his arms around herself, partially to keep an eye on his hands, and partially because this is their normal.
”Can I have a back rub, Master?” she asks him, arching her head back to look at his face.
He rests his chin on her forehead and she giggles.
”Of course, Snips.”