Work Text:
A polite cough sounded next to Anakin.
Pausing his tinkering, Anakin looked up from the circuitry board before him and glanced over at Obi-Wan. He was reading through a report, his brows furrowed and hand stroking his beard.
Anakin turned back to his work.
Another cough broke through the space.
"Master?"
Obi-Wan looked up from his datapad, one brow quirked. "Yes, Anakin?"
"Are you feeling alright?"
"Of course," he replied, his smile placid and demeanour relaxed. "Just a small tickle in my throat. It's nothing to be worried about."
Anakin nodded despite the anxiety that curdled in his stomach. Returning most of his attention back to his project, he chewed on the inside of his cheek and poked away at the fried wires and melted plastics of the very dead, very damaged circuitry board he'd pulled from a neglected droid.
Obi-Wan coughed again.
XXX
"I don't see why you're so worried."
"It's not that I'm worried, Snips, it's that I'm annoyed."
Ahsoka brushed the back of her hand over her forehead, wiping away droplets of sweat from her overheated skin. They'd decided to practice their katas outside in the main concourse, the sun bright on the tops of their heads and the wind crisp along their limbs. It was a stark contrast to Anakin's mood - bright, sunny skies against the incoming storm that muddied Anakin's future horizons.
"Why are you annoyed?" she asked.
Stepping over to the benches, Anakin passed Ahsoka a bottle of water before taking a swig from his own. Clearing his throat, he sat down next to her and fiddled with the cap.
"Have you ever been near Obi-Wan when he's been sick?" he asked as he looked out across the promenade.
Ahsoka shook her head. "No, can't say I have. Or if I have, he's done a good job of hiding it."
"No, you would know if you had," Anakin said quickly. Turning to look at Ahsoka, he leaned in a little, his voice low as it slipped through his teeth. "Obi-Wan becomes the most insufferable Jedi known to man when he gets sick."
Ahsoka's giggle did not help Anakin's mood.
"I'm serious!" he said. "The man turns a cold into a personal challenge. He refuses to get help from any Healers, and instead prefers to let his body fight it off. He thinks he comes out stronger after letting whatever it is run its course. I mean, maybe that's how it works - maybe he does come out healthier, I don't know. But in the meantime, I'm left to deal with his coughing, and his sneezing, and his wheezing."
Ahsoka was still smiling. "Okay, and... you don't have to take care of him, do you? Let him suffer through it alone."
Anakin frowned and looked back down at the toes of his boots. "Would you let me suffer alone if I were sick?"
"If you refused to get help? Yeah, of course."
Anakin rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Snips."
Ahsoka shifted next to Anakin, her sigh carrying through the echoing space. "I know you and Master Obi-Wan are close, and I know you feel... obligated, to take care of him. And I would agree - if Master Obi-Wan were seeking additional help. Sounds to me like he's decided to suffer for suffering sake. You shouldn't have to join him."
Continuing to stare at his boots, Anakin fiddled with his bottle. Ahsoka was right, but that didn't make Anakin's unease any better. He'd always taken care of Obi-Wan when he was ill. He couldn't help but think back to the times when he was sick, and the only thing that got him through the fevers and the pain was his mother's dry hand across his brow, and the taste of her homemade medicine - sharp herbs mixed with an earthy root - as it settled in his chest and burned the sickness away. The touch of a loved one, the concern in their gaze, the softness of their voice - it was something that couldn't be replicated by a droid or an impersonal healer.
Anakin had to be that for Obi-Wan.
"Maybe he won't actually get sick," Ahsoka said. "Maybe it's just dry air."
Anakin smiled tightly and sat up straighter. "Maybe you're right, Snips." Patting her shoulder, he gave it a quick squeeze before standing and readying his practice blade.
"But I'm kind of hoping it is a cold," Ahsoka continued. "I mean, if you're busy looking after Master Obi-Wan, then that means you'll be too busy to train me, and I--"
"And you'll be doing these same katas, only with Master Koon."
Ahsoka let out another exaggerated sigh before reading her blade as well. "You're no fun."
XXX
Anakin felt a disturbance in the Force.
There was a flicker followed by a wave of nausea, the sensation curling through Anakin's stomach and into his guts before it slipped away. Gripping his spoon a little tighter, he swallowed down the vestiges of it and closed his eyes, willing the room to stop spinning.
"Skywalker?"
Blinking back the last of the sickness, Anakin sat up a little straighter and looked up at Master Windu.
Windu was stood with a cup of tea a short distance away, his brow quirked as he stalled out in the middle of the communal dining space. There was an unfamiliar look of concern on his features, one that Anakin wasn't used to seeing. Glancing back down at his now unappetizing bowl of soup, Anakin watched the little cubes of protein float around in the clear broth.
He felt another swell of nausea, and stamped it back down before throwing his walls up, blocking Obi-Wan out fully.
"Master Obi-Wan is sick," Anakin finally said as he looked back up at Windu.
Windu's face paled slightly. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Certain of it."
Windu's fingertips danced along the sides of his teacup, his brows furrowing as he looked past Anakin. A moment flickered by before he threw his shoulders back and nodded, a finality about the motion that eased Anakin.
Only for a split second, however, before Windu dashed all hope across the floor.
"Well, may the Force be with you, Skywalker," he said, before he left the dining hall with nary a look back.
XXX
Arriving at Obi-Wan's quarters, Anakin squeezed the strap of his satchel a little tighter. Normally his pack was full of things he'd need on a mission - repair parts, bacta gel, rations - but today he'd prepped it for a different sort of trial. Pills and medical grade liquids sat side by side with a jars of ginger tea and salves made from a variety of herbs that Anakin knew from his days on Tatooine. They clinked together as Anakin walked, drawing the gazes of those in the halls toward him, as if to bring attention to the man walking down to the gallows.
Taking in another deep breath, Anakin straightened his shoulders and strode inside, determined to see to his duty as a student, a friend, and a hapless lover.
When he entered Obi-Wan's room he was greeted with the thick scent of incense and sick. The blinds were closed, the lights turned off, the space hot and the air still. There was no movement on the bed, but Anakin could make out the very round shape of something beneath the blankets, familiar even in its pitiful and deflated state.
"Obi-Wan?"
A grunt sounded from the blankets, before the shape shifted as Obi-Wan rolled over. Poking his head out from the blankets, he peered at Anakin through the gloom. Once normally styled and tame hair was a tangled mess, strands sticking up on the back of his head while others were plastered across his sweaty brow. His cheeks were flush but the rest of him was pale, lips cracked, nose rubbed raw from the tissues he'd been using to sop up the mess.
Anakin swallowed down his annoyance at the sight. One trip to the Healers and he'd look much better - he'd look more Anakin's Obi-Wan, with his perfect hair and perfect skin and perfect nose and lips. Infuriating and comforting all at once. Yet Anakin couldn't help but feel slightly excited about the prospect of Obi-Wan being reliant on Anakin. It was rare to see Obi-Wan so weak and vulnerable and entirely dependent on Anakin's care and skill.
Besides, it felt good to take care of someone for a change. Normally, Anakin was trusted to destroy rather than maintain and fortify, his hands slashed with cuts and deep gouges from conflict. It would be nice to have them covered in the salves his mother taught him to make, hands broad across his Master's hurting form, soothing in their effect.
Dropping the bag down next to the bed, Anakin knelt and pressed his forearm against Obi-Wan's forehead. Immediately sharp heat spread out across Anakin's own skin, and he let a 'tsk' slip past.
"I'm fine," Obi-Wan said as he brushed Anakin's hand away.
"Sure," Anakin replied.
Opening his satchel, he rummaged around in it, listening to Obi-Wan's laboured breathing.
"I didn't feel your approach," Obi-Wan mumbled. He had laid back down on the bed, form swaddled up in blankets and pillows, voice unusually weak.
"I've closed off our bond." Grabbing one of the salves made from a bitter, crisp root, Anakin opened it up and sat on the edge of the bed. "You almost made me lose my lunch earlier today."
Obi-Wan hummed softly. "I'm sorry. I tried to eat some soup and... well."
"You know, the Healers have got an effective--"
Obi-Wan silenced Anakin with a great cough. It shook his body and the bed, the mattress roiling beneath them both as he hacked into his hand before collapsing backward on to the bed.
"You shouldn't be here," Obi-Wan said afterward, even as he allowed Anakin to man-handle him into a somewhat upright position. "You'll get sick, too."
"And who will look after you?"
"I can do it myself."
Anakin rolled his eyes and started unwrapping Obi-Wan from his sleep wear, pulling the soft fabric away from his torso to expose his chest. Here too Obi-Wan was flush, skin pink across his collarbone and beneath the dense thickets of hair across his pecks. Normally Anakin would spend a great deal of time petting Obi-Wan here - touch firm as he dug his fingers into the dense muscles and scratched at Obi-Wan's skin, loving the feel of muscle and hair across his palms as he sunk down on Obi-Wan's cock.
He quashed the memory by slapping a gob of the salve across Obi-Wan's chest.
"What is that?" Obi-Wan asked, eyes suddenly more open as he peered down his form.
"A salve my mum taught me to make," Anakin said. He started rubbing it into Obi-Wan's skin, spreading it across his chest. The scent of sharp, crisp herbs swirling in the space. "It'll open your lungs up - make it easier to breath. I've used it on you before, you know, during the last time you got this sick."
"I don't remember," Obi-Wan said weakly.
"You were just as out of it. Delirious with a fever that you could easily have treated in--"
"The Hall of Healing, yes, yes." Obi-Wan waved Anakin's worry away with a limp wrist. Anakin wasn't sure if he was endeared or annoyed. "But it's as I've always said: sometimes a good fever like this is necessary, to flush out all the bad things in the body. It'll make me stronger in the long run."
Anakin continued to rub the salve in, soothed by the motion despite the way Obi-Wan's rough voice and heated skin worried him. "Then how come, whenever I got sick as a Padawan, you sent me immediately to see the Healers?"
"You're strong enough as is, darling. No need to add to your sturdiness."
Anakin glanced up at Obi-Wan, his hand stilled across his chest, heartbeat pressing madly against Anakin's palm. The ease at which he breathed had already improved, though his skin was still flushed and clammy with sweat. For a second Anakin was once again charmed by the visage - a hapless, vulnerable Master sat before him who was in need of his care, his touch, his steadiness, and no one else's.
And then Obi-Wan coughed again, and Anakin's anxieties roared freely once more.
"Don't waste your breath on flattery," Anakin mumbled once Obi-Wan was done his hacking. With his mechno-hand he brushed Obi-Wan's sweaty bangs from his forehead, sensors turned off so he didn't have to feel Obi-Wan's fever.
"Thank you, Anakin." Obi-Wan smiled softly at Anakin before he passed out.
XXX
The delirium hit late in the evening.
"You're a darling boy, you know that?"
Anakin sighed and wrung out the washcloth into the bowl. Pressing it against Obi-Wan's brow, Anakin brushed the back of his hand across Obi-Wan's cheek before dropping it down to feel his pulse. It was pulsing wildly, and when Anakin opened himself up to Obi-Wan in the Force, he could feel Obi-Wan's heart beating frenetically as if it were his own.
"You're running a bad fever," Anakin said. "You're gonna need to take some more of the tea I made."
"Very, very darling. Did I ever tell you that?"
"Maybe a few times."
Anakin stood and helped Obi-Wan to sit up, white pillows cushioned beneath him that made his flushed cheeks burn even brighter in the low light. He smiled up at Anakin, his lips twisted in a lazy grin that would have been appealing under any other circumstance. Passing him his tea, he made Obi-Wan drink half of it before he allowed him to rest.
"You're very smart, too," Obi-Wan continued. "Knowing how to make these awful salves and potions. Very smart, indeed."
Anakin tried not to blush. Obi-Wan was free with his praise, but rarely was it so blunt. It felt both good and strange to hear it.
"It's my mother's teachings," Anakin mumbled.
Obi-Wan caught Anakin's wrist in a tight grip and tugged him back down to the edge of the bed. His touch was surprisingly strong, but it didn't last, exhaustion curling through his system until he fell back into the pillows once more.
"Don't sell yourself short, Anakin. It takes a keen mind to remember these things. You saw, you examined, you learned, and you retained."
"I... thanks."
He took Obi-Wan's hand away from his wrist and pressed it into his chest, holding on with tender care. Their fingers tangled together, and Anakin ducked his head to kiss his knuckles just as Obi-Wan continued his diatribe.
"You're a good student, Anakin. And a good friend. And an excellent lover..."
"Thank you." He couldn't help but smile.
"But you're also impatient."
Anakin's smile dropped. "Impatient?"
Obi-Wan didn't seem to hear Anakin's tone, or if he did he didn't care. Instead he carried on, words slurring due to the fever. "You're always rushing, Anakin. You're rarely present in the moment. You need to be more mindful - let the Force guide you, rather than trying to change its direction and pattern."
"Now is not the time for lessons, Master--"
"And this applied to in the bedroom, too. Anakin... always so eager to finish, right when I'm just starting to really feel it..."
"I don't rush--"
"Sometimes I swear you're going to rip your own cock off, with how hard you're tugging at it."
"Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan's mouth snapped shut and he looked up at Anakin, blinking up at him as thought he just realized he was there.
"Anakin. Darling. When did you get back?"
Anakin bit the inside of his cheek and squeezed down on Obi-Wan's hand. "I've been here all day."
"Oh... oh, right." Obi-Wan nodded and sunk back into the pillows, his lids slipping closed. "I thought you were Ti..."
A coldness sunk into Anakin's gullet. If Obi-Wan thought he was Ti, then why was he discussing their sex life?
"You thought I was Ti?" Anakin repeated.
Obi-Wan hummed softly. "Probably."
Gripping Obi-Wan's shoulder, Anakin shook him gently. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, bleary with sickness and exhaustion. Anakin didn't care.
"Obi-Wan - do you talk to Master Ti about... about my penis?"
"No, no, of course not," Obi-Wan mumbled, his eyes falling shut again as he sunk further into his pillows.
Anakin let go of Obi-Wan's shoulder and sat back. Right, of course. Obi-Wan wouldn't discuss their private life together. That just wasn't Obi-Wan. He was tight-lipped and quick to lock away a secret. He wouldn't go telling the other Jedi what he did with Anakin when the two were left alone for any extended period of time.
"Quinlan..." Obi-Wan whispered.
Anakin looked back down at Obi-Wan. "Quinlan?" he repeated.
"I talk about your cock to Quinlan."
XXX
The chattering of teeth woke Anakin from his dozing.
"You're freezing," he said as he pressed his hand against Obi-Wan's forehead.
Obi-Wan batted his hand away and curled further into the blankets. Anakin could barely make him out in the darkness of the room, but he knew Obi-Wan well enough to know that he was glaring at him.
"I-I'm perfectly f-fine, A-Anakin."
"Then why are you shaking with three blankets around you?"
"I-I said I was fine. N-not that I-I'm not cold."
Anakin supposed if Obi-Wan were willing to debate him on semantics, he was starting to break the fever and feel marginally better. Still, Anakin sort of preferred the delirious Obi-Wan to the one who was currently smacking his hand away any time he tried to lift the blankets to check his temperature.
"The fever is fighting back," Anakin mumbled.
"I-It won't win." Anakin stood and began undressing while Obi-Wan continued his ramblings. "T-this is why I s-suffer through these things. M-my immune system i-is fighting b-back a-and w-will come out s-stronger for it. R-right now, as I s-speak and you're u-undressing-- w-wait, w-why are you undressing?"
Anakin slipped into the bed next to Obi-Wan and pulled him close. Wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan, he hooked his leg over his waist and tucked him up as tight as he could. Obi-Wan's clammy, slick skin was unpleasant against his own, and the scent of his sour breath equally displeasing. But Anakin couldn't help but enjoy how Obi-Wan melted against him, his frame somehow smaller and more fragile, breathing evening out as he allowed himself to be held and cared for.
While Anakin may have outgrown his Master years ago, he still always felt so much smaller in comparison to him. Obi-Wan was open and free with his delights, welcoming to those around him, putting those he interacted with at ease with a simple smile and a twinkle in his eye. Things Anakin struggled with came naturally to Obi-Wan, every comment well-spoken, every laughter unbridled, every action elegant and graceful. He was captivating in every sense of the word - larger and grander than Anakin could ever hope to be, with his hunched shoulders and deep set glower that failed to spread into an easy smile, no matter how Anakin tried.
But here, with Obi-Wan trembling in Anakin's arms, his nose pushed against Anakin's neck, his hands stuffed between them as he tried to get warm, Anakin was needed in a way that he didn't often get to feel from Obi-Wan.
"How’s this?" Anakin asked.
"B-better."
He was still shivering. Lowering his walls, Anakin slipped into their bond and wrapped his energies around Obi-Wan's own. Thoughts of his time on Tatooine flooded his mind - of the twin suns as they shone down on the glittering sands, and the hot winds that buffeted the walls of his home every evening just before sunset. And then he thought of his mother; her touch soft, her hands warm, her smile even warmer.
Obi-Wan let out a long, deep sigh and stilled in Anakin's arms.
"Better?" Anakin mumbled.
"Much," Obi-Wan replied.
XXX
It was mid-afternoon the next day, Anakin still bleary with exhaustion and Obi-Wan a distinct lump on the bed, when Obi-Wan asked for food. By the time Anakin had gone and returned, Obi-Wan had sat up in his bed with clear eyes and the window to his room open.
"I think I'm over the worst of it," Obi-Wan said with a grin.
Anakin returned the smile and placed his tray of food down on his lap. It was a simple broth with leftover bread from lunch, but Obi-Wan looked at it as if it were a five-course meal served up by the richest of senators from Naboo. Collapsing next to Obi-Wan, Anakin lay on his back and started scrolling through one of his datapads, keen to focus on something other than Obi-Wan's laboured breath.
"You know, you don't have to look after me," Obi-Wan said after a time.
Glancing up from his pad, Anakin admired Obi-Wan in the warm sunlight. His cheeks were pink not from fever but from the heat of the soup, his eyes bright and clear, his chest no longer flush. His hair was, of course, a tangled mess, and he was still covered in Anakin's salves, the pigment staining his chest hair a unique brown colour that made Anakin briefly wonder what Obi-Wan would look like as a brunette (it wasn't flattering, Anakin decided), but he was sturdy and solid and whole again.
Obi-Wan sneezed.
Well, almost.
"You're my Master," Anakin said quietly.
"I was your Master. And a stubborn one at that. You're no longer bound to me in the same manner you were as a Padawan."
"So you're saying that we're not supposed to care for each other anymore? Just because I'm a knight now?"
Obi-Wan sighed and dipped his bread into the broth, letting to soak. "I'm not saying we shouldn't look after one another, just that... that caring for me when I'm going through an illness that I've foolishly chosen to suffer through, shouldn't be a priority."
Anakin swallowed down a smarmy reply about Obi-Wan admitting that his self-imposed suffering was foolish, and instead let himself settle further in Obi-Wan's bed. "But what if I want to help you?" he asked quietly.
Obi-Wan looked up from his bowl and locked eyes with Anakin, his bread slowly disintegrating into his soup. "I... well. I suppose if you want to help, and have nothing else more important going on. But I know that you do have something more important to tend to. Ahsoka, for one, and--"
"You're my number one priority," Anakin cut in. Sitting up a little in the bed, he scooted closer to Obi-Wan, keeping their eyes locked. Placing his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, Anakin squeezed and held, enjoying how Obi-Wan didn't wilt under the pressure. "Even if we're parted as student and mentor, and even if I'm supposed to move on to other duties as a Jedi, you're always going to be my focus, Obi-Wan. Your happiness is my happiness, your health my own, your body mine as well. If you're sick, then I'm sick, too."
A flicker of something slipped across Obi-Wan's features - something that Anakin couldn't read but knew was troubled and dark - before he washed it away with a smile and a glance down at his soup.
"You shouldn't speak of such attachments, darling," he mumbled before he shoved the soggy bread into his mouth and chewed.
Anakin shrugged. "Maybe. But if you get to be foolish about not going to see the Healers, I get to be foolish too."
Obi-Wan let out a familiar sigh that cut into Anakin more than it should have. But instead of a reprimand about being mindful and honouring the Jedi code, Obi-Wan finished his soup and placed the tray down on the table, before lying down and pulling Anakin close. Resting his head on Obi-Wan's chest, Anakin breathed in the scent of the herbs from the salve, and the touch of Obi-Wan's musk just beneath.
"Thank you for your care these last few days," Obi-Wan mumbled against the crown of Anakin's head.
Anakin closed his eyes and curled in closer, contented once again to be the one held. "Someone had to do it."
"And it just had to be you?"
"Always."
XXX
A cough resounded about the room.
Ahsoka was the first to look up.
Another cough, followed by a wheeze.
Obi-Wan glanced Anakin's way.
"Are you okay, Master?" Ahsoka asked.
Anakin waved her off as the tickle abated. "Just something caught in my throat, don't worry about it."
Try as he might, Anakin couldn't hold off the second round of fits, his chest heaving and lungs shuddering as he expelled a great wad of phlegm on to his hand. When he looked back up, Ahsoka had recoiled back in her seat while Obi-Wan stood, robes billowing about him as he strode toward Anakin.
"Come, Anakin, let me take a look."
"I'm fine, Master, it's just--"
Obi-Wan's hand on his brow stilled Anakin's thoughts a moment, and he relaxed into the touch before Obi-Wan was pulling away with a curt 'tut-tut.'
"You're running a fever, Anakin."
Anakin glared. "And who's fault is that?"
"Not mine," Obi-Wan primly said. "As I recall, I didn't ask you to look after me. Now come - it's off to the Halls of Healing for you."
"You're not gonna look after me?" Anakin asked, even as he stood and followed Obi-Wan. "Like I did for you?"
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Why needlessly suffer when you've got the best Healers in the galaxy, waiting to attend to you?"
"But you just--"
Obi-Wan shook his head and stilled Anakin's outrage with a quick finger wag. "It is not your place to question your Master's methods, Anakin. Whereas I can choose to suffer through a cold, you may not."
"But--"
"No further remarks, Anakin. Now hurry along - your nose is running and your getting it all over your upper lip. It's disgusting."
"It's not--"
"And your voice is terribly raspy. No, no, it won't do at all."