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”Can I get you anything else?” Obi-Wan asks, helping his grandpadawan to sit up in her bed so she could down the water that he had just retrieved for her.
”I’m okay,” she coughs out with a grateful smile.
Ahsoka shivers.
”Perhaps, another blanket?” he says with a knowing smirk.
”That would be nice,” she replies sheepishly, placing her cup on her nightstand with a clank.
Obi-Wan pulls her blankets up to her shoulders when she lies back down, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. He frowns.
”The medicine doesn’t seem to have kicked in quite yet,” he mutters. “That’s alright; I’m sure that the soup will do the trick. It should be finished in just a few—“
Ahsoka shivers again and he pauses.
”Right. The blanket,” he reroutes. “Where do you and Anakin keep them?”
”Oh,” she says, looking off to the side, her montrals darkening some. “I was actually wondering if you could maybe get me the blankets from Anakin’s bed. It’s a togruta thing, really, we have heightened senses and I just thought that—“
”—the familiar scent would help?” Obi-Wan finishes for her, his voice nearly as soft as his smile. “Don’t worry, young one, I understand.”
”Thank you, Master Kenobi,” she says, finally meeting his eyes. Then, sounding much more like herself, “You’re the best, old man.”
”Well, I think it’s safe to say that the medicine is working now,” he sighs with an eye roll.
Ahsoka just laughs as he exits her room, on his way to Anakin’s.
Gentle, calloused hands wrap the soft fabric around her, and she inhales slowly, taking in the comforting smell of her master.
His scent always consisted of the slightest hint of motor oil from the amount of time that he spent under the belly of various ships, sometimes with her as he guided her through the steps of repairing different parts of the machine with his hands lightly over hers in case she slipped up and hurt herself. He was always like that—ready to take a blow for her at any moment. Pain he could handle. Seeing her hurting, he could not.
She thought of all the late nights they had spent upgrading his starfighter, whispering jokes to one another and constantly smacking their heads into both the bottom of the ship and each other in the cramped space.
”It’s crowded enough down here when it’s just me,” Anakin was laughing, rubbing the spot on his head where she had accidentally dropped a wrench on him.
”But you love me though,” Ahsoka teased back, nudging her elbow into his side to make him laugh even harder.
”If you say so, Snips.”
She wishes that he was here, and from the frantic messages he’s been leaving for Obi-Wan with instructions on how to take care of her until he returns to Coruscant, she knows that he does too.
”Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan calls softly, pulling her from her thought as he rocks her back and forth by her shoulder.
”What is it?” she asks, blinking up at him.
”You fell asleep, little one. For two hours. I guess your scented-blanket trick really did work to relax you.”
”Sorry,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “I’m guessing that your soup is cold by now?”
”That’s alright, it can still be heated up. Besides, your rest is important,” Obi-Wan tells her. “I just woke you to let you know that Anakin should be home sometime tomorrow.
She feels her face break out into an uncontrollable grin, which Obi-Wan mimics as he watches her.
”I can’t wait.”
She’s warm.
Warm enough to sleep soundly, that is. It’s a different sensation that wakes her up, however.
She opens her eyes to darkness, not from the night, but from the black robes filling her vision. She blinks, trying to move back and see who’s there, but strong arms around her keep her still.
”It’s me,” Anakin’s comforting voice is saying from above her.
She burrows her head back into his chest, feeling the rumble of quiet laughter beneath it, and whispering back in her exhausted delirium, “You smell good.”
”Thanks,” he continues through his laughter. “All my blankets were gone from my bed when I got home, but then I found them with you.”
She nearly laughs at that, knowing damn well that her room was the first place that he’d gone too as soon as he arrived.
”So, naturally, I just figured that you needed to be cuddled,” he jokes, emphasizing his words with a squeeze of his arms.
”I don’t want to get you sick,” she replies, letting out a content purr when his hand begins petting along her back lek.
”I don’t care,” he says, pulling her even closer.
”Alright.” She’s too tired to argue with him right now.
And besides—this is nice.