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”Something the matter?” Rex asks, head turning over stiff shoulders to look down at his tiny commander beside him.
”Just the,” she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, “noise. Sometimes it makes my montrals ache.” She reaches a hand up to her head to rub at one of the peaks at the top of her head.
”Do you want to lie down, Sir?” Rex continues. They’re only setting up the tents to go to sleep right now. It’s not too difficult of a task to manage without the little togruta helping them.
”Could you take me to Anakin?” she requests instead, looking down at her feet. “He usuallly helps me when this happens.”
”He’s on a call with General Kenobi over in your tent right now. I’ll walk you on over, come on.”
Obi-Wan’s image is just flickering away as the pair ducks under the flap (well, Rex had to duck).
”She’s got a bad headache, Sir,” Rex explains as Anakin confusedly stares down at his padawan where she has attached herself to his side already.
His eyes soften in understanding, and he nods, wrapping an arm around her.
”Thank you, Rex. I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”
”Wouldn’t expect anything else from you, General.” With a grin in Anakin’s direction that lasts just a moment too long, he’s out of the tent.
”The montral thing again?” Anakin asks, feeling her face press harder into his ribs. “Hmm?” he continues when he gets no answer.
She steps on top of his feet so she can make herself tall enough to rest the top of her head on his shoulder.
”Alright,” he whispers, “why don’t you get on into bed.”
She steps off of his toes and he guides her over to his cot with a hand between her shoulder blades. He props the pillow up against the poor excuse for a headboard, and sits her against it, settling beside her after grabbing the top end of the blankets from the foot of the bed.
He holds out both of his hands in the shape of a bowl and she leans right into them, eyes closed as he pulls her closer to press his lips to her forehead.
They linger in that moment for a few seconds, and Ahsoka wants to melt into his warmth, his familiarity, his safety. Even through the pain of her migraine, she can feel his deep care for her, the parental love behind the action.
”No fever,” he says softly when he pulls back. “That’s good.”
He didn’t have to check like that. They have a thermometer.
Ahsoka prefers his way.
”Last time,” she says in a quiet voice, “it helped—whatever you did.”
”Okay,” he says back, smiling, voice equally as low, as to not increase her noise-induced pain. “We can do that again.”
”Thank you,” she answers with a smile of her own.
”Lie down with your head in my lap,” he says gently.
She shuffles under the blankets, leaving just her head out, and rests it on its side on top of Anakin’s thigh.
She closes her eyes, waiting for him to ease the pain away.
”Just tell me if anything hurts,” he tells her as his flesh hand settles in the space between her montrals, the metal one delicately resting on her forehead.
He begins to knead gentle circles against her forehead and montrals, only adding the lightest touch of pressure.
He’s good at this, she’s learned—massages. Really good. She can feel her headache fading away already under his touch.
”Better already,” she sighs, wrapping an arm over both of his legs.
”Good,” he says in a soft voice, working his way up to her tender montrals, still ringing slightly.
Ahsoka knows that he won’t hurt her—ever. He’s the only person that she trusts she can always rely on.
No matter what.