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”Are you sure that you’re okay?” Ahsoka asks, arching an eyebrow marking.
Anakin smiles at her over his bowl of soup—the soup that he only eats when he’s sick.
”Just fine, padawan mine.”
She’s not convinced in the slightest.
It’s not until he’s loading the dishwasher that she decides to ask him again. She’s heard him sniffling for the past twenty minutes that she wasn’t in the room for.
”Master?” she says, walking up behind him.
”What’s up, Snips?”
She reaches for a dirty plate in the sink.
”I’ve got this, don’t worry,” he tells her with a soft grin as he waves her hands away. “You should go get ready for bed.”
Her mind works quickly, devising a plan to get him to admit that he’s sick and needs to rest for once.
”I actually had a question about that,” she begins.
Anakin raises his eyebrow, leaning against the counter on his elbows.
His face, naturally a bit darker from the treacherous time he’d spent under the burning Tatooine suns as a child, is now nearing an angry red in the space beneath his eyes. Ahsoka knows without a doubt, that he’s burning up right now.
”What can I do for you?” he asks.
”Well, I was wondering if you would be okay with me…giving you a hug and kiss goodnight?”
She’s not surprised that he just about melts when he hears that. She knows that in his head she’s practically his daughter—she knows that he’d like her to be.
His lips pull up in one of the biggest smiles she’s ever seen him wear, and he let’s out a happy, little “Aww!” before stepping forward and pulling her right off of her feet.
”Of course,” he whispers, burying his face in her stripes. She laughs at the ticklish sensation against her montrals, pulling back just enough to rest her forehead against his.
Oh great, she thinks as his lashes flutter open and shut, brushing up against her own, he’s crying now.
”Love you so much, ‘Soka,” he sniffs, and she knows that his runny nose is not just from the tears.
She doesn’t say anything—she’s a bit taken aback, honestly. All she had been trying to do was trick him into letting her kiss his forehead but now… now he’s admitting to loving her?
As much as she would like to return the sentiment, it seems easier to do it wordlessly and knock two birds out with one stone.
Arching her head upward, she softly presses her lips to his head, holding them there for a moment to get a good read on him.
And he’s fully crying when she buries her face in the crook of his neck once again.
”I love you too,” she whispers. “And I would love you even more if you didn’t lie to me; you’re burning up, idiot.”
”You little brat,” he mutters, carrying her in the direction of her bedroom with a laugh.
”I get it from you,” she giggles, patting his shoulder. “Like father, like daughter. Or brother and sister. I’m not really sure sometimes.”
”Like father, like daughter,” he repeats. His voice is soft, but confident, spoken without a shadow of a doubt.
”But I do love you,” she says, “and I think a hug and kiss before bed would be nice.”
”Hmm.” Anakin enters her room, standing at the foot of her bed. She knows exactly what’s coming by the mischievous glint in his eyes.
Before she knows it, she’s being tossed in the air, shrieking with laughter before she lands on her mattress, Anakin falling down besides her moments later.
”You,” he says, pulling her in and looking her in the eyes, “are not supposed to worry about me. It’s my job to worry about you.”
”But you are sick!” she exclaims while he pulls the blankets up over them with one arm, the other still snugly around her.
”And I’ve already taken medicine for it,” he tells her, smirking.
”No you didn’t.”
”Oh, yes I did.”
”But Master Kenobi said that you would never admit that you were sick and take your medicine to get better when you were younger.”
He smiles even wider, looking directly into her bright eyes, nearly glowing in the dark room.
”When I was younger, I didn’t have someone to be better for.”