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When Obi-Wan returns from his deep-dive in the Archives, Anakin is in the same exact spot he left him: cross-legged in the middle of the floor with tools and stray droid parts scattered all around him. Except this time he’s speaking softly to Artoo, tone kind and gentle like he’s comforting a small child and not a heap of scrap metal.
If Anakin were anyone else, it might be an odd sight, but considering Obi-Wan once caught him hugging Artoo goodbye before a Council meeting, a little affectionate crooning hardly registers. He’s much more worried about the fact that it’s been nearly six standard hours and it doesn’t look like Anakin has moved even once.
Huffing in fond exasperation, Obi-Wan strides into their common room and announces his arrival with a pointed, “Leg check.”
“All present and accounted for,” Anakin says because he’s an untamable brat. He doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing, a screwdriver in one hand and a wrench in the other.
“Stomach check.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Okay, fine,” Obi-Wan says, folding his arms across his chest and raising a knowing eyebrow. “Bladder check, then.”
Anakin rolls his eyes. “I’m fi—” And then he stops, his eyes going huge and panicked. “Oh, fuck,” he gasps, quickly setting his tools aside and scrambling to his feet. His knees knock together, the joints protesting as they’re stretched out for the first time in much too long, and he hisses through his teeth.
Obi-Wan, for his part, clucks his tongue in disapproval. So much for the leg check.
Even so, he can’t help but laugh under his breath as he watches Anakin race for the ‘fresher, calling back, “Remember blue goes to green, green goes to red, red goes to yellow, and yellow goes to the motherboard, alright?”
“Yes, dear.”
Though mechanics are hardly Obi-Wan’s strong suit – he’s always been more of a talker than a tinkerer – he might’ve had half a chance of holding onto the sequence if Anakin had bothered to close the damn door behind him. But he’s just as uncouth and shameless at twenty-one as he was as a newly transplanted desert child, so Obi-Wan has no such luck. By the time the deafening flood runs dry, his mind has gone completely blank.
“I lost it,” he says upon Anakin’s return, wincing apologetically. “Sorry.”
But Anakin only grins. “No worries. I repeated it to myself the entire time I was pissing.”
Obi-Wan wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Anakin, honestly. That’s more than I ever needed to know.”
“You love it. Now, if you’re done being a crèchemaster, I’ve got an Artoo to fix.”
“Uh-uh,” Obi-Wan says, holding up a scolding finger. “Not so fast. You forgot the mouth check.”
Bewildered, Anakin crosses his eyes in an attempt to look down at his mouth. “Um,” he says succinctly. “It’s still there?”
“Perfect,” Obi-Wan chuckles, then sinks to the floor amongst the debris to give Anakin a kiss. Anakin responds immediately, desperate as ever as he presses forward and twines his fingers into the back of Obi-Wan’s hair, holding him in place like he’s afraid he’ll pull away. There’s not a chance in hell of that happening – now that Obi-Wan is allowed to kiss Anakin, he’s never going to stop.
“Thanks for looking out for me,” Anakin whispers after a while, staying close enough that his lips brush against Obi-Wan’s as they move. “I’m a little bit of a mess.”
“But you’re my mess,” Obi-Wan answers without a second’s hesitation. It’s the kind of embarrassing sentimentality he’d always scoffed at in the past, but with this beautiful boy in his arms and a hopeful path laid out before them, the words don’t feel trite. They just feel true.
Before either of them can say anything else, the sweet moment is brought to a swift end by Anakin’s stomach, empty and very unhappy to be so. Anakin’s cheeks pink up at the loud growl, his hands quickly flying down to clutch at his belly while Obi-Wan’s fling into the air in put-upon annoyance.
“I knew you were hungry!” he cries, the reprimand woven through with laughter. “What’s the point of the body checks if you don’t tell the truth?”
Anakin groans, pushing back to his feet and yanking Obi-Wan up after him. “Force, you’re such a mom. Instead of yelling at me, how about you feed me instead?”
Obi-Wan shoots back, “Now, where’s the life lesson in that?” but he’s already on his way to the conservator. Because Anakin is a bit of a mess, but he’s one that Obi-Wan has no qualms about cleaning up. In fact, he can’t think of anything else he’d rather do.