Archive of Our Own

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Contrary to popular belief, Padmé did not only represent Naboo in the Senate, but the entire Chommell Sector; there were thirty-six populated worlds and forty thousand settled dependencies she was expected to advocate for. As such, it was important that her office reflect the worlds she had been elected to speak for. The rug was woven from the waterproof wool of gill-goats from Behpour. In addition to the stone mosaic from Jafan, she had three prized oil paintings from the Prime Minister's private collection. A tapestry of Karlini silk made by the finest and most skilled weavers the planet had to offer covered half of the eastern wall. A row of intricately designed Gungan masks gifted by Boss Nass lined the blank space above it, filling in the gap between the tapestry and ceiling.

The one thing she couldn't decide on for her office was a sofa. Since her first election she had gone through… well, she'd lost count. Dormé, Moteé and Cordé bemoaned her indecisiveness constantly, as they were the ones who had to put them together and inevitably take them apart once she changed her mind. It was a duty that they had no qualms about allowing her husband to take on.

"Ow." Anakin smacked himself in the face with a titanium pole, rubbed his nose with a sour look, and kept working.

"Are you alright, love?" Padmé asked airily, glancing up from her terminal. She resisted the urge to rub her eyes and wondered how long it would be before she needed glasses. One could only spend so many hours a day squinting at the text of bills before going blind, after all.

"Almost done." He flashed her a grin from beneath the mostly-assembled sofa. No matter how complicated the build, Anakin thrived on being allowed to put her furniture together. It was the domesticity of it all, Padmé was fairly sure; they had so little time to actually spend doing married things—well, besides the obvious—that whenever the opportunity to do something as simple as building furniture came along, he snatched it with verve.

"I don't remember if I thanked you for putting this together for me," Padmé said, watching his biceps flex under his tunic. He was so strong, so ridiculously talented. She couldn't help but picture him putting together a crib.

"You don't have to. You know I love doing things for you." He winked at her.

"Still. It's coming together nicely." She admired the long couch; a unique collection of bright-red, round cushions connected to a series of poles that made it look as though it was floating, a limited-edition design from a craftsman on Riorkio. She wasn't quite sure about the color yet. The red was a bit garish and didn't complement the maroon carpeting very well.

Anakin finished cranking in the bolts on the bottom and wormed his way out from underneath the sofa. His forehead was shiny with sweat. He reached for his oversized cup of fountain fizz from Biscuit Baron, rattled it, finished it off with a loud slurp—she couldn't tear her eyes away from the way his prominent laryngeal bulge bobbed as he swallowed—then frowned like it had said something offensive. "I should have gotten a mega," he said a little morosely.

Padmé gestured at the glass pitcher of icy kokanini water on her desk.

"Is it caffeinated?" he asked hopefully.

"No."

Anakin's shoulders dropped but he dutifully refilled his cup. "Feel like testing the loft?" he asked with a cheeky little smirk.

Padmé laughed. "Can I get through this bill first?"

"I suppose." Anakin sighed like he was playing to the back seats and moseyed back over to the sofa, flouncing on it dramatically. His eyebrows went up. "Oh. This is actually pretty comfortable."

"Of course it's comfortable, it's a sofa."

"Your taste normally runs towards" —Anakin paused, undoubtedly searching for a less insulting word than the one he was about to use— "aesthetics over comfort."

"The two are not mutually exclusive." She gestured to her silvery-blue, velvet dress that fell in tiers to her feet, mimicking a waterfall. "This is incredibly comfortable."

"And how many people did it take to put on you?"

"Ani," Padmé scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Senator, really? Rolling your eyes like a petulant teenager?" Anakin snickered and made his straw honk like a clown nose.

"I'm surprised you're not more interested in how many people it takes to remove it," Padmé said blithely, turning back to her terminal and acting as though she didn't hear her husband spit out his water.

"Speaking of petulant teenagers…" Anakin said once he'd recovered.

"What did Ahsoka do now?"

"She didn't do anything, but…" He bit his lips. "Did you get pimples when you were a teenager?"

Padmé shrugged. "Sure. I think everyone does."

"I mean the ones that pop up no matter how many times you wash your face."

"Hormonal acne? I did when I had my first menses, but only for a few months and it went away. Sola had it until university, poor thing."

"I think Ahsoka's getting that. Hormonal acne, I mean. She's obsessive about hygiene so it's not because she's dirty." Anakin made a face. "She had one in her crease back here" —he gestured at the back of his head— "staring at me for the whole mission on Gor like a big eye."

Padmé frowned. "She can't help it if it's hormonal, love," she said.

"Of course she can't. I know it's got to hurt. She jumped a foot in the air when I popped it."

"You what?" Padmé exclaimed.

"I couldn't take it!" Anakin said, looking at her with big, pleading eyes. "I swear it was growing a pupil."

"Anakin!" Padmé said, exasperated.

"I did it with the Force so I don't think she knew it was me, but—"

Padmé let her head clunk onto her desk, torn between laughing and scolding him. Laughter won out.

"What? It needed to go!"

Padmé covered her face and called upon every lesson she had practiced in schooling her face in neutrality as Queen. "Anakin," she said once she had taken back control of herself, "don't do that again."

Her poor husband looked absolutely bewildered, but nodded.

"You said she's obsessive about her hygiene?"

"Yeah." Anakin grimaced. "It's… well, that might be my fault. I kind of, uh, accidentally implied she smelled."

"Ani!"

"I didn't mean to! She doesn't smell bad, not at all, she just smells… strong. I know, I know, she's a Togruta, she's supposed to smell, but—"

"What did you say?"

"I asked if she needed me to order her more deodorant when she was already wearing some." He had the decency to look guilty. "Now she takes sonics twice a day and uses the troopers' deodorant."

Padmé pinched the bridge of her nose. Poor thing. Puberty was hard enough, but Ahsoka had to go through it on a war ship surrounded by soldiers and a mentor with a foot perpetually in his mouth. "Perhaps she just needs a different soap for her lekku for when she has a breakout. What is she using now?"

Anakin shrugged. "No idea. If you've got any suggestions, I'm open to them."

"I can't say I'm an expert in skincare for an organ I don't possess, but I think I know what to do. You said you're on Coruscant until Benduday, yes?" Anakin nodded. "Good." She dialed Moteé's frequency.

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Could you please call Dietto and schedule an appointment for two for tomorrow afternoon?" Padmé asked her handmaiden.

"Right away."

Anakin's eyes narrowed. "Who's Dietto?" he asked in a silky voice.

Padmé bit down her grin. "And reschedule any appointments I have here, of course."

"Of course."

"Thank you." Padmé closed the channel. Anakin was still looking at her suspiciously. "What is it, my love?"

"Who's Dietto?" he asked again, frowning severely.

"My esthetician." Padmé laughed at the shocked look on his face. "Sorry to break the illusion, but I don't look like this without assistance."

"Yes you do," Anakin muttered. "Even covered in blood and dirt and bug guts, you're the most beautiful woman in the galaxy."

"I'm glad someone thinks so." She gave up on trying to finish the bill. She marked her progress and crossed the room to sit with her husband on her beautiful new sofa, pulled up her velvet train and swung one leg over his lap so she was straddling him. "Bring Ahsoka here tomorrow at noon," she murmured an inch away from his lips. "She and I will have a girls' day at the spa."

"I love you," Anakin whispered, chasing her lips.

She laughed into his mouth. "I know."

Now that they were all enclosed in the cab of Padmé's repulsorlimo, she understood what Anakin meant about Ahsoka's smell. In an open room like the ones she had always shared with the girl before, it was barely noticeable. Confined together in an enclosed space, the scent of sweetspice and musk was intense. It reminded her of summer sunshine, or a wildflower field ripe with pollen. Not unpleasant, but admittedly a little distracting.

"...so then I said 'That's because a deactivator can disrupt an organic nervous system if it's tuned to a high enough voltage,' and then Barriss said 'That's not how a deactivator works,' and then I said 'Are you really going to tell me how a deactivator works when I'm the one who had to build one from scratch for my electronic engineering final?' and she just wouldn't listen to me! She was wrong and she wouldn't admit it! Ugh!" Ahsoka flounced hard backwards against her transport seat, arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

"Wait, that's why Barriss isn't talking to you? The deactivator thing? She's still mad about that?" Anakin looked perplexed, but he'd never been a teenage girl.

"Yeah." Ahsoka stared out the window, watching the traffic outside of Padmé's limo.

"Were you talking about an alternating current or a direct?" Anakin asked. The plan wasn't to take him along to the spa, but when he'd gotten in the repulsorlimo with that excited look on his face Padmé hadn't the heart to tell him to get out.

"Direct," Ahsoka answered.

"So you were both right. A deactivator that utilizes an alternating current doesn't have the necessary voltage to disrupt a nervous system."

"Ani…" Padmé began.

"I know, but that's not the point because the unit we were talking about used a direct current," Ahsoka said hotly.

"Ease up on the backtalk, Padawan," Anakin said, crossing his arms, mirroring his apprentice's posture.

Padmé rolled her eyes. As cute as it was to see him use his 'Master' voice, didn't he see that Ahsoka just needed to vent? She pushed aside her own natural tendency to offer up solutions and held up a staying hand to both of them. "I'm sorry, Ahsoka. It's not fair that Barriss made you feel that way," she said sympathetically. "Hopefully in a few days she'll have calmed down and you two can talk it out."

"Me too." Ahsoka's lip popped out. Her Padawan beads swayed behind her, clicking gently like raindrops.

"Those are so pretty." Padmé crossed the back of the speeder to sit beside her. "They're silka, right?"

Ahsoka smiled and ducked her head. "Yeah," she said shyly, reaching up a hand to still their swinging.

Padmé smiled. "Have you ever seen a silka tree in full bloom?"

"Only in the Room of a Thousand Fountains." Ahsoka twisted her head so Padmé could get a closer look.

She ran a hand down the line of beads, subtly examining the girl's headtails at the same time. The evil eye that had tormented Anakin had shrunk down to a small, angry red lump, but the poor thing was definitely in the early stages of another breakout. A dozen irritated bumps brewed in the creases where her tails met. "Do they need any special care?" Padmé asked; given the location of the beads was where she was breaking out, she wondered if they were the real culprit.

"What do you mean?"

Padmé touched her necklace. "Well, for example, this is made of ducrium. It has to be waxed before I put it on or it'll oxidize when it touches my skin."

"Oh." Ahsoka shrugged. "No. I wash them in the sonic. Or I use a sanicloth if we're in the field."

There went that theory. Padmé lingered over a bead near the end of the string that was made of something shinier and lighter in color than silka wood. "What's this one?"

Ahsoka's stripes darkened. "That's Master Skywalker's hair," she mumbled.

Padmé raised an eyebrow. "His hair?"

"Traditionally, a new Padawan braid integrates hair from the Padawan's Master," Anakin piped up. "When I first became a Padawan, my braid was mostly Obi-Wan's hair since mine was so short. Species that don't have braids get a hair bead."

Padmé picked up the bead again and examined it closely. She immediately recognized the dusky gold of her husband's hair now that she knew what she was looking at. "What do you do if your Master doesn't have hair?" she asked.

"Then you get a silka bead from their Padawan braid," Ahsoka said, fidgeting a bit in her seat.

Padmé carefully let the chain of beads rest. "That's a beautiful tradition."

Ahsoka smiled at her knees. "Thank you."

"We're here, my Lady." Moteé parked the repulsorlimo behind the spa. "Shall Master Skywalker and I wait here for you?"

"I'm going in," Anakin said casually.

"Mmm." Padmé had a feeling that he was more interested in meeting Dietto than getting a facial. "Moteé, we'll be a few hours. Take the afternoon for yourself, I'll comm you when we're done."

"Of course, my Lady."

The spa looked like an unassuming storefront from the outside with its blacked-out privacy doors, but inside it was floor-to-ceiling white marble veined with soft green, lit with a glass chandelier shaped like an oswaft. A bubbling fountain lay in the center of the atrium, topped by lush green foliage and exotic flowers. Tiny, jewel-toned fish darted around the marble bowl.

"Padmé!" Dietto circled around the far counter and greeted her with an air kiss. He was only a few inches taller than her, with midnight-dark skin and enormous eyes the color of a sunset. He'd braided his hair since the last time she saw him, tight rows against his scalp in the outline of a lotus flower. Like the rest of the staff, he was dressed in a white silk tunic and pants that flowed like water around him. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon!" He peered in closely and ran his dark finger over her brow. "Still perfect. I do such good work, don't I?"

"You're the best." Padmé pulled Ahsoka under her arm. "This is my dear friend, Ahsoka Tano. She'll be joining us today."

"It's a pleasure, Miss Tano." Dietto grinned at the little Togruta. "Is this your first time at a spa?"

"Yes," Ahsoka said shyly, picking at her thumb's cuticle. Anakin subtly tugged her hands apart.

"Dietto and I go all the way back to Naboo," Padmé explained. "He and his wife used to be in my deejarik club. We all grew up in Vânem together." Anakin relaxed minutely at the mention of a wife.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Ahsoka glanced up at Anakin, giving him an uncertain look.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Anakin leaned down, concerned.

"Nothing's wrong, I just… I don't want to gross anyone out." Ahsoka wrung her hands.

Anakin frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Trust me, baby girl, I've been doing this for a decade, it takes a great deal to gross me out," Dietto said kindly.

"I've got, um" —Ahsoka's stripes darkened to near-black— "I've got a few pimples on my lekku. You don't have to touch them, don't worry."

Dietto laughed. "I love pimples. Why do you think I work in skincare?"

"You do?" Ahsoka looked like she wanted to combust.

"We all do. It's a requirement for working here." Dietto pulled her under his arm and snapped his fingers at the purple Twi'lek behind the counter. "Hella, go seat Master Skywalker in the lounge with some bubblezap while Veshka and I take care of the girls."

"Of course." Hella led Anakin towards a set of frosted glass double-doors on the other side of the round atrium. He gave Ahsoka a little wave and a reassuring smile before disappearing.

"Who's Veshka?" Ahsoka asked as Dietto led them into the spa proper.

"My wife. You'll love her, she's an expert on lekku care." Dietto grinned at Padmé over his shoulder. "She should be, being a Togruta."

"She's a Togruta?" Ahsoka perked up immediately.

"Mmhmm."

Padmé could have clapped with delight. Her plan was going perfectly.

After a change into fluffy bathrobes—regardless of what Anakin thought about her senatorial garb, Padmé was perfectly capable of undressing herself, though she would need a hand back into her gown—the two were led into a softly-lit room, two padded salon chairs already heated and waiting and soft music playing from a hidden speaker. Ahsoka looked tiny in her robe, even smaller when compared to the statuesque Veshka; she was almost Anakin's height and had short red lekku and pastel-yellow skin, with soft, fern-like markings around her eyes.

Padmé had been to the spa only a fortnight previous to have her brows and nails done. She laid on her front and enjoyed Dietto's massage as Veshka went to work on Ahsoka. First she went in with a suction tool—repeatedly assuring Ahsoka no, I don't mind, now hold still—then after she'd thoroughly expressed the girl, went to work scrubbing her montrals and lekku with something that smelled spicy. She layered a thick, opaque blue cream over the top of the concoction and ran an infrared light over it all.

"Having fun?" Padmé asked.

Ahsoka's crossed feet danced in place. "This feels so good," she said happily.

"Let me know if it gets too hot," Veshka said in a throaty alto. "We want it to tingle, not burn."

"She's adorable," Dietto murmured into Padmé's ear. "Where did you find her?"

"They were giving them away for free at the Temple." Padmé grinned and watched Ahsoka wriggle in place like a happy puppy under the red light.

Veshka wiped the cream from the girl's lekku with a soft cloth. "Have your heats started yet, baby?"

Ahsoka's eyes almost bugged out of her head. She shot an embarrassed look at Padmé before saying "no," in the tiniest voice she'd ever heard.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, it's a natural stage of life. How old are you, thirteen, fourteen?" Ahsoka nodded. "Don't be surprised if they start soon. It's probably why you're breaking out." Veshka squirted half a bottle of oil that smelled like sun-warmed leather between Ahsoka's montrals and started her massage. "And I ask because once they do start, your oil production is going to jump into hyperspeed. You need to properly express your preen glands and only use an oil cleanser. No harsh soaps, I don't care what the commercials say. If you dry them out you're only going to make more oil."

Ahsoka was going cross-eyed from the massage. Padmé laughed silently and hoped she was too distracted to notice.

"I'll make up a bottle of what I'm using now to take with you. It's mostly caara oil with a few other—"

"That's from Shili!" Ahsoka chirped.

Veshka laughed again. "Yes, it is, and it's the best thing in the galaxy for your lekku." She patted Ahsoka's cheeks. "Don't worry. Everyone goes through this before a heat."

"Even you?" Ahsoka asked timidly.

"Well, I don't get heats." Veshka flashed her fangs in a grin. "I was born on the other side." She gave her husband a cheeky wink. "It makes trips back home to Vânem a laugh. Nobody recognizes either of us."

Dietto patted away the excess massage oil from Padmé's back and fixed her robe. "Ready for the mud bath?"

Padmé helped Ahsoka to her feet. "You'll enjoy this," she promised, hooking her arm through Ahsoka's.

They crossed the atrium arm-in-arm. Padmé heard the familiar rev of a podracing engine and her husband swearing loudly in Huttese as they passed the lounge Anakin had been sequestered in and hoped he was having a good time. They were left by their hosts in a massive, blue-tiled room with a pit full of heated red mud. Squat candles burned along the edges of the stairs leading into it and around the edges. The same calm music played from a speaker that she still couldn't locate.

She dropped her robe and picked her way down the stairs, careful to keep her footing in the slippery mud. She turned once she was waist deep and caught Ahsoka quickly looking away. "Are you coming, sweetie?" she called.

"Yes." Ahsoka shed her robe and gingerly picked her way down the stairs. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. Those scars on your back…"

Padmé nodded and touched the raised lines of pink flesh. "The nexu on Geonosis."

"Did it hurt?"

"Terribly." Padme grimaced. "I could have gotten them removed, but I wanted to remember. The price I paid there is nothing compared to what the people of the Republic are suffering in this war."

Ahsoka nodded; she knew better than most what Padmé meant. She looked down and wrinkled her nose at the mud. "What does this do?"

"This is purified mud from the Lianorm Swamp on Naboo. It's infused with minerals and… well, good stuff." Padmé shrugged. "If Dietto says it's good for your skin, I believe him. He's far more knowledgeable than I."

Ahsoka crossed her arms over her non-existent chest. "How many other people have been naked in it, do you think?"

Padmé laughed. "It's sanitized after every session, sweetie, don't worry."

"Oh." She looked relieved. She spread a hesitant handful up her orange arm.

"Come here." Padmé gleefully plopped a handful of mud atop Ahsoka's montrals, making her squeal.

"They just got clean!" she whined.

"You're supposed to put it everywhere, silly. That's the point."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes but allowed her head to be slathered. She turned around with a giant, sloppy handful and a mischievous grin. "Your turn." She dropped it on top of Padmé's head with a cackle.

"Ack!" Padmé scooped the excess out of her eyes and chucked it back at her, laughing.

"Come on, it's got to go everywhere, that's the" —Ahsoka shrieked and dodged her next throw— "that's the point!"

Padmé could practically hear her old etiquette teacher's sharp gasp at her conduct; a mud fight, Padmé, really? She kept laughing as she caught Ahsoka's wrist. "Alright, easy, easy."

Ahsoka plonked her handful into Padmé's hair with a fanged grin before settling down, snickering victoriously. Her grin was so similar to the one her husband gave her when he teased her, it was almost disorienting to see on another face. Masters and Padawans, related not by blood but through the Force; Anakin had told her that the Jedi were a family, that taking a Padawan was the closest they came to having a child.

Padmé massaged the mud into Ahsoka's lekku with gentle hands. "So," she began, "is this your first mud bath?"

"The first I've taken without getting in trouble," Ahsoka said, giggling. "When we were little, me and Skyguy used to play by the waterfall in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and make mud sculptures. Master Obi-Wan would dunk us in the falls to get us clean so he wouldn't be scolded by Créchemaster Vereixem."

Padmé laughed. "I still can't believe that the two of you were friends as children. It's quite serendipitous that the two of you have been reunited."

Ahsoka shrugged. "I guess. Did you do this growing up on Naboo?"

"Play in the mud? Oh yes. I loved being outside. In the summer at my parents' lake home, you could hardly drag me inside even on rainy days. I used to fall asleep in the back garden watching the stars with my sister."

"You have a sister?"

"Mmhmm. Sola." She moved to Ahsoka's shoulders and rubbed the mud in firm circles over the blades, inwardly tutting at how prominent they were. She would have to have a talk with Anakin about being more attentive to her eating habits. "She's a few years older than me. We weren't very close until we were in our teens. It wasn't until I was elected as Queen and moved to the Royal Palace that I realized how much I missed her. It was an honor to serve Naboo, but it was a lonely time for me."

"Did your handmaidens help? With the loneliness, I mean."

"A great deal. The tradition died out, but I brought it back. I don't know how other monarchs managed without them." She tapped on Ahsoka's shoulder so she'd spin and proceeded to rub mud on her chubby cheeks.

"Is Vânem where the lake is?"

"No, it's further north in the mountains. It's very, very busy in the winter since it's a resort town. It's the best place on the whole planet to go hoverskiing."

"That sounds fun."

"It is. I'd love to show you Vânem and the lake country one day. They're both so beautiful."

"Really?" Ahsoka's smile split the mud on her cheeks into fine cracks.

"Of course. You're family, after all." Padmé busied her hands with another handful of mud. "I can't tell you how much your discretion means to us. We never intended to involve you, but with your Empathy it was… unavoidable."

Poor Anakin had had a panic attack the first time he introduced them, completely forgetting that his apprentice's unique ability meant that she could quite literally see the love they shared shimmering in the air around them. Ahsoka took it in stride, said nothing, even covered for Anakin during the times he stayed away from the Temple to spend time with her. It was an unexpected gift. Padmé never expected to be able to share the truth with anyone but her handmaidens. Ahsoka had no real reason to keep their secret, but she guarded it closely.

Ahsoka bit her lips and looked away with a guilty look on her face. Padmé wondered for a moment if she had overstepped some sort of invisible boundary by addressing it directly, but then Ahsoka gave her an achingly earnest smile. "You make him happy in a way that nobody else can," she said simply.

Padmé wasn't quite sure what to say to that. She busied herself with the mud. "I love him very much."

"I know you do. And he loves you." Ahsoka picked up a handful of mud and plopped it on Padme's shoulders. "My whole life, I've been taught that love is central to a Jedi's life. You have to have it for everyone. Yourself, your fellow Jedi, the citizens of the Republic, even your enemies—especially your enemies—but you can't become attached to what you love. It's the fear of losing it that leads to the Dark Side, not love itself."

Padmé had heard a very similar speech from Anakin once. "Then why are you forbidden to marry and have families?" she couldn't help but ask.

Ahsoka's muddy brow markings went up. "We do have a family. Our fellow Jedi."

"I think you know what I mean."

"Master Plo told me once that he thinks saying it's forbidden is the wrong way to look at it," Ahsoka said, rubbing the mud through her hair. "It's not all about the Dark Side. We choose to give up marriage and children because we choose to dedicate our lives to keeping the peace and serving the Republic. We can have those things, we just can't stay a Jedi."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Padmé asked.

Ahsoka shrugged. "From a certain point of view. It makes sense to me, though. I know that if the Council found out you were together, they'd insist he stop seeing you. They're… overly careful when it comes to Anakin. It's why we were split up as kids." She looked so sad, Padmé wanted to hug her. "They wouldn't see that he's more balanced when he's around you. It's like he's storming inside most of the time, but whenever he's with you the rain clears up."

"Really?" Padmé asked, surprised.

"Yes. And my job as a Padawan is not only to learn how to be a Jedi from him, but to protect him. So that's what I'm doing. I trust him with my life. If he thinks he can walk this line, then it's my duty to do everything I can to help him."

"You're a very wise young lady, Ahsoka," Padmé said.

"Thanks." Ahsoka grinned. "And it's not like you're married or anything, so he's not technically breaking the—"

"You missed a spot!" Padmé said frantically, smearing mud on Ahsoka's forehead before she could see Padmé's panic in the air.

Fragrant steam that smelled like amber and rain poured out of the steaming wand above Padmé's face. "How are you doing over there, sweetie?" She was unwilling to take the slices of kiwani melon off her eyes to look. Whatever was happening, Ahsoka was enjoying it; she hadn't stopped purring for almost twenty minutes.

"I think we should start doing facials at the Jedi Temple," Ahsoka said back. She sounded as though she was a few seconds away from dozing off.

Dietto capped the bottle of nail polish and got to his feet. "Nothing too fancy, just like you asked." He sighed, bereft at being denied the chance to do fancy nail art on the little Jedi.

"That's a beautiful color," Veshka said.

"501st blue," Ahsoka said proudly. "The boys will love it."

"The boys, hmm?" Veshka giggled. "You've got your eye on a fella?"

"No!" Ahsoka squawked.

Padmé stifled her laughter. She could practically hear the girl's stripes going dark.

"Oooo, very convincing."

"Really!"

"I believe you."

"No you don't," Ahsoka whined.

"Obviously."

"She's talking about clone troopers, Vesh," Padmé clarified.

"And?"

"They're like my brothers!"

Dietto plucked the melon slices from Padmé's eyes. She sat up and saw Veshka's dark eyes sparkling. "A girl, then?" she asked.

Padmé was surprised to see Ahsoka's blush intensify until her white stripes took on a tinge of pink.

"Sabacc!" Dietto sang.

Padmé's jaw dropped. "You do? Who?"

Ahsoka rubbed her arms and looked away. "Nobody," she mumbled at her knees.

"Oh come on, you can tell us—"

"Dietto," Padmé said gently, then shook her head.

"Fine." Dietto let out a long sigh like an elderly lurca hound. "Well, ladies, you've achieved perfection."

"He's kicking us out," Padmé stage-whispered at Ahsoka.

"I'll bag up your products, baby." Veshka rubbed her lek against Ahsoka's and purred softly. "It was wonderful meeting you. Come back if you need any more help with your lekku."

Ahsoka flushed. "I can't really afford a place like this."

"I'll bill the Senator." Veshka winked. "Politicians have to be good for one thing."

"Very funny." Padmé put her arm around Ahsoka's shoulders and tugged her to her side. "Come on. I need you to help me put my dress on."

"Thank you for all of this." Ahsoka finished the tie-off on Padmé's back and stepped back.

"It was my pleasure," Padmé said. "I'm grateful we were able to steal a little time together. I've wanted to get to know you better ever since the incident with Doctor Vindi."

Ahsoka shuddered at the reminder. "That was a terrible mission."

"It was. It could have been a lot worse if not for your bravery." Padmé stroked her cheek. "I'm so grateful for what you did for my people that day. You're a natural leader. And Anakin was so proud of you."

Ahsoka beamed at the praise. "He was?"

"He still talks about how much you impressed him in that bunker." Padmé led the way out to the atrium. "And as you know, it takes a lot to—" She opened the door and came to an abrupt halt.

"My girls!" Anakin grinned up at them. "You survived! I was starting to worry." His speech was slurred and his eyes were unfocused. Two bottles of empty bubblezap and a half-full glass sat beside him. His head was hanging over the back of the low sofa and Hella, the Twi'lek receptionist, had her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp. There was a pod racing game projecting from the lounge's holoprojector, and Dietto's pet aktapan Pippi was curled up in his lap, snoring softly.

Padmé's smile froze in place. "What are you doing?" she asked the receptionist in a pleasant voice.

"Just a head massage." Hella withdrew her fingers from Anakin's golden curls with a smirk. Her lekku twisted around themselves behind her. "It's on the house, don't worry."

"She's really good at it," Anakin added.

"Master, are you drunk?" Ahsoka asked incredulously.

Anakin stifled a burp. "Um. Yeah, a little."

"Everything alright—Pippi! I wondered where you wandered off to." Dietto plucked the chunky, hairless creature from Anakin's lap and hoisted it up onto his shoulder like a toddler. The sleepy aktapan's trunk wrapped around his neck. "What's happening in here?"

"Add a two hour head massage to my bill, please," Padmé said, her smile still frozen firmly in place. Inside, she wanted to take the purple bitch by the headtails and slam her against the marble wall for molesting her drunk husband.

"It was my pleasure, don't worry!" Hella exclaimed.

"I insist." Padmé's face felt like porcelain ready to crack. "Master Skywalker, get up. It's time to go."

"Ooooookay." Anakin staggered to his feet and almost fell. Ahsoka caught him before he smashed his face through a glass accent table. A devious smirk spread across his face. "Master Skywalker, eh? So formal, Senator." He winked seductively at her.

Ahsoka made a disgusted noise. "Come on, Master, just hang on to me," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You smell good." Anakin buried his face in the valley between her montrals and blew a snozzberry.

"May I just—" Hella reached out a timid purple hand to fix where Anakin's robes had bunched at his back; every hair on Padmé's body stood straight up at the growl that came out of Ahsoka.

"You've had your hands all over him long enough, don't you think?" Ahsoka snapped, fixing his robes herself. "Master, it's time to go."

He issued a sloppy salute. "Yes, Commander."

Padmé shook her head. Her irritation at the Twi'lek was fading fast, and now she just felt a bit sorry for her. She was cringing, wringing her hands and staring at the floor. Padmé hadn't expected the kid to put her in her place, but it seemed Ahsoka took her job of protecting her Master very seriously. She took the bag of products from Dietto. "Add on a ten percent tip to the bill," Padmé muttered to him before they walked out, unable to betray her niggling conscience.

Moteé was parked and ready out front. Ahsoka carefully folded Anakin's oversized, bubblezap-drunk body into the back, ignoring his giggles. Padmé climbed in after them.

"Have a nice time, my Lady?" Moteé asked mildly once they had taken off.

"We did." She wasn't going to let some hussy ruin her relaxing afternoon and her strengthened bond with her husband's apprentice, but she wasn't about to let the idiot get off scot-free either. "What exactly were you thinking?" she demanded.

"I was thinking she offered a massage, and I accepted." Anakin smirked at her. His legs stretched out halfway across the repulsorlimo. "Jealousy doesn't become you, Senator. And besides, you were getting one too."

That smirk told her everything she needed to know. She slid in closer. "You're right, Ani. I was getting a massage. Another man had his hands all over my bare back."

"Uh, Padmé?" Ahsoka asked nervously. "Maybe you shouldn't…"

Anakin's eyes darkened. "Did he now?" he practically growled. The transparasteel windows shook.

"And his wife had her hands all over your apprentice's lekku. Because that's why we were there, laser brain!" Padmé flicked his forehead.

Anakin scowled and leaned back, rubbing the spot she'd twanged. "Fine, you got me."

"You're a menace, Anakin Skywalker." Padmé leaned back against her seat with her arms crossed.

Anakin looked to Ahsoka for sympathy. His eyebrows jumped to his hairline. "You look naked without your teeth," he said, poking her bare forehead experimentally.

Ahsoka redirected his hand around her shoulders and leaned against him, rolling her eyes. "We'd better stop for food, or he's just going to get even more annoying," she said to Padmé.

"Disrespectful." Anakin descended on her sides with both hands, tickling her. "Chuba sa gusha mi kuya uba, ucha poodoo."

Ahsoka's polyphonic shriek of laughter made the windows rattle. Padmé silently mouthed Biscuit Baron at Moteé in the rearview mirror and leaned back to enjoy the show.

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