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The night had been quiet so far—no disturbances in the Force yet that Anakin could sense, though he was still on edge. Padmé was involved. Of course he was on edge.
Not that his master understood.
Master Obi-Wan was the picture of serenity, seated on the couch to Anakin’s left, hands folded on his lap. He could have been meditating, for all still he was sitting.
Maybe he was meditating.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said without turning to him. “Your thoughts betray you. Focus, please, on the task we have in front of you.”
“I am focused,” Anakin snapped, and then forced himself to catch his breath. “I am focused, Master,” he repeated, his voice a little more controlled.
Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at him. “The mission will need your focus, my young apprentice,” he said quietly. “And it will require you to listen to me.”
“Why?” Anakin snapped, and then immediately bit down on his lip, hard. He had asked the same question earlier today, and by the look on Obi-Wan’s face, he had only been spared a sharper reproval because Padmé had been present.
“Ah,” his master said, letting out a soft sight. “I see, Anakin.”
He ran his palms over his thighs and then stood, the motion very settled. Very final.
Anakin backtracked immediately. “I’m sorry, Master,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to question your authority. I understand why I need to listen, and I’m going to listen. I meant—I meant—why do you think the mission does not have my focus? I am very focused on Padmé.”
“Extremely, I would think,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “I will ask Master Vos to step in for a few moments while you and I have a little discussion.”
Anakin’s stomach dropped at the words.
Obi-Wan made it sound simple and not at all as painful as their ‘little discussions’ so often were. He was looking down at Anakin a bit sadly, and a flash of guilt bit at him.
He had been pushing Obi-Wan all day.
“Master, please,” Anakin protested, because he was who he was, and he didn’t think he could go willingly to a spanking, not even one he knew he deserved. Kriff, he was nineteen years old. “I can focus. I am focused.”
“I am glad to hear it, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said evenly. He looked down at his comm-link. “Master Vos will be here shortly to take over guard duties here for a few moments. Unless you prefer we have our conversation here?” He looked up at Anakin as he asked, his look a bit stern.
Anakin blushed as red as a ripe meiloorun melon. “Master,” he said. His voice sounded a bit hoarse. “Master, no.”
Getting spanked was bad enough.
Getting spanked within earshot of Padmé?
Absolutely. Not.
He reached out in the Force. Padmé was still asleep. The thought of her so close to him was unbearable, when he had been thinking of her for years—but the thought of her waking up to the sound of his bare bottom getting smacked by his master? That was so, so, so much worse.
There was a light knock at the door, and Obi-Wan let Master Quinlan in.
He nodded to Obi-Wan, eyes searching Obi-Wan’s face, and then he stepped past him, his usual easy grin on his face. “Anakin,” he said, reaching out and tugging Anakin’s padawan braid gently. “Staying out of trouble, young one?”
“No,” Anakin said sullenly.
Quinlan tipped back his head and laughed. “I see,” he said, looking at Obi-Wan again. “So that’s why I’m here? And here I thought your master was just getting too old and tired to stay up all night guarding a senator.”
He clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder.
Anakin looked miserably at the ground. This wasn’t fair. He had been focused on the mission, and his master never seemed to care that Anakin had things he wanted. That seeing Padmé after so many years was going to be exciting.
The Jedi code was stupid. Master Obi-Wan was stupid. All of this was stupid.
Quinlan squeezed his shoulder once. “Your thoughts are loud, little one,” he said. “Move along now. You’ll be in better shape to guard Senator Amidala once this business is through.”
Obi-Wan sighed and nodded. “I agree,” he said. “And thank you, old friend. We will return momentarily.”
Anakin had a suspicion that momentarily might be a bit of a stretch. “Master.” He stretched the word a bit longer than two syllables, his voice verging dangerously close to a whine.
Quinlan dropped onto the couch, propping his feet up on the small nearby table. He looked tired, too. Perhaps he had only recently returned from his own mission, or perhaps he was simply trying to get a good night’s rest. Anakin’s stomach pinched with guilt, and he found himself ducking his head.
“Come, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said sternly. “Our quarters, please.”
Panic jolted through Anakin. Their quarters were not close to Padmé’s (don’t ask him how he knew exactly how many steps it would take to reach her room from his, or how much time he had spent calculating whether he’d make it to her room without being caught). What if another attack came while they were away? What if Anakin wasn’t there to protect her?
“Master.” Anakin swallowed hard. “Master, please can we—”
But he couldn’t ask for that. He couldn’t.
Both Quinlan and Obi-Wan were looking at him now. Obi-Wan almost always seemed to be able to tell what Anakin was thinking and feeling, and by the look on Quinlan’s face, it looked like the other man had a pretty good guess.
“I’ll take good care of her,” Quinlan said, his voice gentler than it had been a moment ago. “You know Obi-Wan would only call the best of the best for this job.” He gave Anakin an encouraging grin.
Still, the fear at the pit of his stomach felt boundless. He had screwed this up, and now he was leaving Padmé vulnerable because of it.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “Do you have something to ask me?”
“Master,” Anakin gritted out. “Can you please punish me here?”
He felt his own stomach whoosh down to the bottom of his toes even as he asked it.
Obi-Wan and Quinlan turned twin expressions of surprise on him, the raised eyebrows eerily similar.
Quinlan responded first, letting out a low whistle. “You sure about that, kid?” he said. “Because even if you do that, I have to stay here. You and your master will have your attention focused elsewhere, and someone needs to attend to the senator’s safety.”
Anakin’s cheeks felt as hot as the scorched sands of Tatooine. “I understand,” he said through gritted teeth.
Obi-Wan sighed. “Very well, Anakin,” he said finally. He glanced around them, his gaze softening imperceptibly as he took in the look on Anakin’s face—and, Anakin was sure, whatever emotions Anakin was projecting in the Force. “Perhaps the study, I think.”
Anakin nodded, shoulders slumping a little. The study off to their left was the furthest in the suite from Padmé’s rooms, at least. If he had any hope of maintaining his dignity in front of her, it would be that she was sleeping soundly and that there was enough space between the study and her bedroom that the sound of Anakin’s punishment would not travel.
Anakin followed his master, his head hung low, avoiding the sympathetic look from Quinlan, who had settled back onto the couch.
Obi-Wan must have sensed the depths of Anakin’s feelings, because he lowered his mental shields enough to send Anakin a wave of reassurance through their bond in the Force. He shut the door to the study behind them, and then settled on the small couch.
“You asked me a question twice today, young one,” Obi-Wan began. “I thought I might answer it for you here.”
Anakin felt tears prick his eyes. He hadn’t meant to ask his master a question like that. But now Obi-Wan thought Anakin didn’t trust his judgment, and Master Quinlan knew Anakin was going to get spanked even though he was nineteen kriffing years old, and Padmé was all of two rooms over and about to hear him get his bare bottom paddled by his master.
“It isn’t necessary, Master,” Anakin said, though he said it more out of reflex at this point than out of any hope to save himself.
Please and rationalizations and justifications had never worked on Obi-Wan, and Anakin didn’t expect them to start now.
Obi-Wan patted his thigh. “Bare your bottom, please, Anakin,” he said quietly. “And bend over my knee.”
Anakin wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole. It had been a while since he had been spanked by Obi-Wan—though not that long, embarrassingly enough—but he usually tried to shove his pants down before Obi-Wan had to utter the words.
He gritted his teeth and did as he was told, though, settling himself over Obi-Wan’s lap.
Obi-Wan set one hand on his back. It was heavy and warm and comforting, despite the situation. With his other hand, he pulled Anakin’s tunic up out of the way, baring Anakin.
Anakin hissed at the sudden cold, at the exposed feeling of being upturned over his master’s knee. “I’m sorry,” he gritted out.
Obi-Wan’s hand fell with a resounding smack on Anakin’s bare backside.
Anakin bucked forward—the first swat always seemed to surprise him, no matter how many spankings he had received from Obi-Wan over the years—but then righted himself without being told.
Obi-Wan landed a spank to the other side of his bottom, and then began a circuit of swats that covered Anakin’s backside from the top all the way down to his thighs. He was spanking hard—not that there were ever any instances where he didn’t—but tonight he seemed determined to make a quick and firm impression on Anakin.
“I’m sorry,” Anakin said again, his voice a bit wobblier now.
Obi-Wan did not slow the pace of the spanking in the slightest, his hand still raining down firm smacks on Anakin’s backside.
He had not even begun the lecture, which was concerning in itself.
That meant, Anakin thought miserably, that he was going to be here a while. Feeling quite sorry for himself, he leaned further forward to grab onto Obi-Wan’s leg for support.
“Why are we here, young one?” Obi-Wan asked finally, landing a hard swat to the base of Anakin’s backside where he would no doubt feel it the next time he sat down.
“I’m—ow, Master—because I was rude,” Anakin said.
“Try again,” Obi-Wan said firmly, landing several hard swats on Anakin’s sit spots in quick succession.
Anakin was kicking his legs now, shifting back and forth as if that would help him escape the onslaught of swats.
“I—I didn’t listen to you, Master,” Anakin managed finally.
Obi-Wan moved back to covering the rest of his bottom in hard smacks now, but at least he wasn’t focused solely on Anakin’s already-tender sit spots. “And you endangered the mission with your pride,” he said quietly.
At this, the tears that had been stinging at the back of Anakin’s eyes began to spill. “I’m sorry,” he said again, meaning it this time as one tear trickled off the end of his nose. “I’m sorry, Master, I didn’t mean to!”
Obi-Wan continued spanking, but his free hand slid up Anakin’s back and squeezed the back of his neck once, the gesture reassuring. “You asked me why you ought to listen,” he said, beginning another round of smacks. “It seems you have forgotten that you are a padawan, and on a mission of such great importance—a woman’s life is at stake, and I know she is important to both you and I, but to our galaxy as well—you cannot let your pride get in the way.”
Anakin began crying harder. “I’ll listen, Master,” he promised. “I will.”
“I am sure you will, dear boy,” Obi-Wan said, aiming the next swats at Anakin’s sit spots again. “I never wish to punish you, but if that is what it takes to help you control your emotions and remain focused on the mission, I will do it. Do we understand each other, Anakin?”
“Yes,” Anakin sobbed as Obi-Wan’s hand continued to fall on his already-punished backside. “I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry I was rude. I’m sorry I wasn’t focused on the mission. I’m sorry.”
It took him a moment to realize the spanking had stopped and Obi-Wan was rubbing his back gently.
“I forgive you, young one,” Obi-Wan said quietly. He began gently pulling up Anakin’s clothes.
Anakin suppressed a hiss when the fabric touched his thoroughly-punished backside. A glance back told him that his bottom was as red as he had suspected it was.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was as thorough in handing out a spanking as he was in everything else he did.
Obi-Wan helped Anakin to his feet, and then wrapped Anakin in a tight hug. “There, there,” he said when Anakin simply started crying harder. “It’s done.”
When Anakin’s sobs had slowed to a quiet sniffle, Obi-Wan sat down and drew Anakin to a seat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he did.
Anakin leaned on him, resting most of his weight on his hip—and on Obi-Wan—so that he could avoid letting it rest on his backside. “I really am sorry, Master,” he said quietly.
“I know you are, young one,” Obi-Wan said gently. “And I know you will be mindful of your emotions going forward.”
Anakin nodded his head earnestly. It meant Padmé’s safety, and Anakin would do anything to ensure that.
“I know you care deeply for her, Anakin,” Obi-Wan continued quietly, pulling Anakin’s head to rest against his shoulder. “Empathy and compassion are not wrong, and neither is caring. I care for you deeply, dearest. But the possessiveness and the pride—they will endanger not just Padmé, but all of us.”
Anakin relaxed against his master’s shoulder. “I’m going to do better,” he promised.
“I know you will.” Obi-Wan gently tugged at his braid and then stood up, offering Anakin a hand. “Now, let us go back into the common room and meditate together for a bit. I think it is high time we let Master Quinlan go and get some rest.”
Anakin ducked his head again, embarrassed. He had forgotten for a brief moment that Quinlan was also in earshot.
When they re-emerged into the common room, Quinlan stood up and crossed the room. He put one arm around Anakin’s shoulders, squeezing him against his side for just a moment, and then clasped Obi-Wan’s hand.
“You alright, little one?” he asked Anakin.
Anakin nodded, face reddening. “Fine, Master Vos,” he said.
Quinlan laughed. “No need to be embarrassed,” he said, tugging at Anakin’s padawan braid gently. “Do you know the number of times this one and I ended up in a quite similar position?”
Anakin chanced a look at Obi-Wan.
The lines of weariness were still very much present in his eyes, but he had a slight smile on his face now. He shook his head at Quinlan. “I’m sure Anakin doesn’t need to hear all of this,” Obi-Wan said, amusement threading his tone.
“I definitely do,” Anakin said, a small grin slipping back on his face. He wiped at his eyes one last time, just in case.
Quinlan released Anakin and grinned down at both of them. “Ask your master about the thing with the wookies,” he said. “Or about how it’s his fault my master decided to start spanking me in the first place.”
Anakin grinned up at Obi-Wan, who wrapped an arm over his shoulders and squeezed. “Please?” he asked. “I want to know.”
Obi-Wan laughed. “Perhaps another time, Padawan,” he said. “Let us meditate and focus our attentions on the safety of the senator.”
“Master Obi-Wan?” Padmé’s voice interrupted them.
Anakin’s body jolted at the sound. Usually, he would be thrilled to hear her voice. Over the moon. Ecstatic.
But right now? After just having been thoroughly spanked over his master’s knee?
Anakin hoped the floor would open and swallow him whole.
Maybe he could take a running jump out of the windows, leap into the nearest speeder, and try his luck on a different planet.
His face must be as hot as the sands of Tatooine at high noon.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” Padmé said gently. “I was awake and was just wondering if you would both like some tea?”
Anakin chanced a look at her.
She was wearing a light blue nightgown that looked soft and silky to the touch. Anakin wanted to run his fingers over it.
“Thank you, Senator,” Obi-Wan answered. “That’s very kind of you. I hope your rest was not disturbed?”
“Oh, not at all,” Padmé said easily, moving past them towards the kitchenette and reaching for the kettle. “I was sleeping peacefully, and then woke up and craved some tea. Anakin? Would you like some tea?”
Anakin forced a nod. “Yes,” he said. “Thank you, Padmé.”
Obi-Wan cleared his throat once.
“Er, thank you, Senator Amidala,” Anakin corrected himself.
He could care for her, like Obi-Wan had said, but if his own feelings got in the way of her safety—that would be unthinkable.
She busied herself with the tea, and Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s shoulder sympathetically.
“Are you alright, young one?” he asked quietly.
Anakin nodded, ducking his head. He was. Well, his ass wasn’t. And his pride was on shaky ground. But Padmé was here in front of him safe, and Obi-Wan wasn’t angry with him, and there was still the opportunity later to ask him about the wookie incident Quinlan had mentioned.
Padmé returned with a steaming mug of tea for his master, and then handed him one, her hand brushing his as she did it. “You alright?” she asked casually, but her eyes found his.
There was an intensity there—that had always been there, and that, he thought, was why he was so drawn to her.
So she did know. She must.
“Oh, yes,” Anakin said in what he hoped was a cool, casual, totally normal I-didn’t-just-get-spanked tone. “Perfect.”
But she squeezed his hand just slightly, her finger tips tightening over his, before she let go.
So perfect just might be the truth after all.