Work Text:
Obi-Wan was woven of comforts. His little quirks and routines were a wellspring of security and soothing for young Anakin, and nighttime was particularly sacred. Anakin clung to the routines like a lifeline when nothing else in his life seemed to make sense.
After dinner was eaten and the dishes were done, when the sky turned dark, the fluorescent lights would go off one by one, replaced by the warm, dim glow of lamplight. Obi-Wan would check in on Anakin later, smelling of soaps and tea leaves and his hair damp from the shower. “Good night, dear one, sleep tight,” he would say and flick his light off. Anakin would reply “Good night, master.”
Once in his own room, Obi-Wan would turn on his bed-side lamp and peal back the covers of his nicely made bed just so before climbing in. He’d grab his data pad and read for however long it took to feel sleepy, and then the final lights went out.
Obi-Wan’s routine was steadfast, but he always made space for Anakin in it, even on nights where Anakin was feeling particularly clingy, and he followed his master’s steps like a shadow. Obi-Wan would still peal back his covers just the same with Anakin on the other side of them, he would still read on his data pad with Anakin’s head in his lap, would still whisper his goodnights in the same low tone.
When Anakin was young and restless (at night, anyway), Obi-Wan would come into his room after his shower and sit on the edge of his bed. Some nights his master would read to him stories that he’d enjoyed as a Padawan, others he would tell him made-up stories with Anakin’s helpful input.
Sleepy and sluggish, Anakin would wrap his arms around Obi-Wan’s middle stubbornly and ask him not to go yet, to read one more page. Obi-Wan would laugh and extract himself with a fond pat on the head. He’d pull Anakin’s covers up and tuck them tightly around his shoulders. “Goodnight, dear one,” he would say, “sleep tight.”
Nighttime was safe and precious. It wasn’t a time for stress or sadness or frustration.
Anakin is well aware that his reputation is at odds with all of this, but what can he say? A man can contain multitudes.
For all that Anakin is a wild force of nature on the best of days, he reserves his nights to be quiet and calm. Best are the nights he gets to spend with Padme, when everything else in the galaxy just drops away. She tells him she thinks it’s sweet that he’s so serious about his bedtime, which he isn’t sure how to feel about. She’s always been a workaholic, but on the rare nights they get to spend together, she joins him in his calm routine, and they fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Even when nightmares plague him, sleep remains Anakin’s most kept-to ritual. For years now, he has stuck to getting his eight standard hours of sleep, and he’s not planning to stop.
But it’s just as hard as one would think to keep to such rituals in war time. He’s had to set himself some boundaries. Well, just one that pretty much covers them all: if it’s not life threatening, it can wait.
The idea doesn’t go over all too well with his new Commander in the beginning, but Anakin is nothing if not stubborn, and he thinks he’s beginning to wear Rex down. It’s worked out fine until now, after all.
He and Ahsoka are almost never in their shared apartment on Coruscant, since they’re always out on missions on the Resolute, so she’s never experienced the true extent of nighttime routines. She’s extremely resistant to his attempts to tech her at first, claiming she’s “not a youngling, Master! I don’t need a bedtime!”
But still, their rooms are close to one another, and Anakin does his best with the resources at hand. He’s even rigged the lights in both of their rooms to dim when their sleep cycle is near. (He wanted to do the hallways too, but Rex said the low lighting was a “unsafe” and “hazardous” in the case of an emergency.)
When their missions take them planet-side overnight, Anakin has started reading her all the classics that she missed at the Temple (apparently the creche doesn’t do story time like they used to, since the old crechemaster was deployed to the Mid-Rim), and the men take to listening in, too. She acts like she’s embarrassed (he had, too), but he knows she likes them, especially when he does the voices.
Soon enough, nighttime will corrupt her too, it’s already begun. Her circadian rhythm is becoming more regular, just as he planned.
He’s committed to doing his damndest to teach his Padawan the ropes, and yes, this is absolutely a rope. One of the biggest ropes, in his opinion, and probably one of his favorites.
Force, Anakin loves bedtime.
And imagine his shock when he finds out Obi-Wan has hardly been sleeping.
Anakin’s world view shatters. He is horrified and shocked and utterly betrayed and-
“Anakin, you’re being dramatic."
“But Obi-Wan,” Anakin splays his hands in a pleading gesture, “it’s bedtime.”
It’s past bedtime by quite a bit, actually. The men are starting to get drowsy.
Obi-Wan looks exhausted anyhow, and Anakin can’t fathom why he won’t just go to bed if he’s so tired. The battle is over, there’s nothing left that needs to be done tonight. Until the Senate is out here in the mud and dirt, they can wait a little while longer for their paperwork. “Yes, I’m well aware of that, thank you,” Obi-Wan runs a hand down his face. “As it happens, there’s also a war on, and I have work to do.”
A joint mission for the 501st and 212th has landed them squarely in the middle of nowhere on some back-water planet and no access to the ship for at least another day, At this point, it’s as close to a break as they’ve gotten in months.
The trees sway and yawn above them as if to lull them all to sleep. The camp they’ve made up is snug, with some tents and sleeping rolls arranged around a low burning fire.
On the other side of the clearing, Anakin sees his men getting ready for bed, to the confusion of the 212th. Anakin has corrupted them as well, to his immense satisfaction. It’s resulted in an army of men that become terrifyingly efficient when the night cycle starts rolling in and the threat of lost sleep looms.
Fives sits in the middle of the loose cluster the 501st has formed, doing a passionate reading of their latest series, complete with voices and sound effects.
Ahsoka sits half listening, propped up against a tree with her hands pillowing her head on her knees, eyelids drooping already, though she fights it.
“Aren’t you tired?” Anakin’s padawan yawns in Obi-Wan’s general direction. “I thought work waited ’til morning anyway.” That’s how it works on the Resolute, anyway (unless it’s really unavoidable or life-threatening, obviously, in which case they stay up, but are cranky about it).
That’s how it used to work for Obi-Wan. Doesn’t he know he’s the source of this?
“C’mon, Obi-Wan!” Anakin uses his most persuasive voice, “You know you’ll function better in the morning if you get sleep now.”
Obi-Wan gives him a flat look. How many times did Obi-Wan use those exact words on Anakin when he was younger? Too many to count, probably. It’s satisfying to throw them back.
“Commander Cody,” Anakin whirls to Obi-Wan’s second in command, “are you allowing this?”
“Due respect, sir,” Cody sounds exhausted, from where he’s setting up his own bed roll. The 212th snicker at the idea of bedtime stories, but it doesn’t stop them from encroaching curiously on the 501st’s reading circle, having finished everything that needs doing around camp. “I don’t exactly get to call the shots.” He brings out his own data pad, “But I have tried.”
Sundown ended some time ago, and the camp is illuminated only by the light of the fire. The sky is clear enough above them to see stars peaking through the gaps between the leaves. Story time trickles into a quiet hum as the men drift to sleep one after the other, leaving only those on watch duty awake.
Obi-Wan leans against a tree, legs crossed at the ankles in front of him and data pad still in hand. Ahsoka has curled herself into a ball on her bed roll in front of Anakin, but he can feel that she hasn’t quite gone to sleep yet. The galaxy suddenly feels more at peace than it has in years as time takes a breath in the quiet break between battles.
Feeling emboldened and affectionate, Anakin scoots closer to Obi-Wan and leans down until his head lays in his former-master’s lap. Obi-Wan allows it without a word, and his hand immediately comes down to rest in Anakin’s curls like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Something bright and warm swells so suddenly and so sharply in his chest that he almost has to catch his breath from the strength of it. A sigh rushes out of his lungs as he melts further into place and a strange lump forms in his throat.
Obi-Wan’s robes smell like battle. Soot and dirt and carbon burns, mostly, but there’s also something familiar. Tea and soaps.
Suddenly Anakin feels ten years old again, climbing into Obi-Wan’s bed because there’s a storm outside, and the wind sounds like howling. For some reason, he feels like crying.
Obi-Wan’s fingers pull through the waves of Anakin’s hair, “Goodnight, dear one,” he murmurs, “sleep tight.”