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A sourdough starter bubbles violently on the kitchen countertop, forgotten since last night’s baking experiment. Its yeasty tang mingles oddly with the sterile Coruscant air filtering through the vents. Obi-Wan Kenobi-Skywalker peels his eyes open, greeted not by dawn’s light but by a low, guttural mrrp vibrating through the durasteel floor. Blue Loth, a lanky domesticated Loth-cat with fur like storm clouds, sits ramrod straight at their bedroom door, unleashing operatic misery.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan rasps, jostling the warm lump beside him.
Anakin Skywalker-Kenobi surfaces slowly, blinking sleep-crusted eyes. He plucks tiny, pearl-white earbuds from his ears, the sudden cessation of whatever pounding music he’d fallen asleep to making the cat’s cries unbearably loud. Obi-Wan feels a ridiculous pang of envy – those earbuds represent undisturbed oblivion.
"What's wrong?" Anakin’s voice is thick, his arm instinctively curling around Obi-Wan’s waist.
"He will not stop meowing," Obi-Wan sighs, running a hand through his disheveled auburn hair. The chrono glows 05:47.
"So open the door," Anakin suggests, nestling closer, his breath warm against Obi-Wan’s neck.
"No, I already put him out," Obi-Wan grumbles, the memory vivid. "He scratched the synthwood until I caved and let him back in. Five minutes later, this."
"Mrrrrowww!"
Anakin giggles, a bright, unrestrained sound in the dimness. He presses a tender kiss to Obi-Wan’s temple, his lips lingering before he slides out from under the covers. Barefoot and clad only in loose sleep pants, Anakin pads across the cool floor, his lean frame silhouetted against the door’s faint light strip. He pauses, head tilted, observing the agitated feline.
"He doesn't want out," Anakin declares softly.
With a gentle flick of his fingers through the Force, the door whooshes open silently. Blue Loth pauses mid-meow ("mrrrro-"), blinks his large yellow eyes,, and saunters precisely two steps into the room. He then collapses dramatically onto the threshold, stretching out like spilled ink, purring contentedly. Obi-Wan stares. Anakin turns, a triumphant, lopsided grin splitting his face. Cat whisperer, Obi-Wan thinks, utterly bewildered.
Still smiling, Anakin crouches by the nightstand. His fingers delve into the drawer, past datapads and stray screws, emerging with a small, velvet box the exact shade of Loth-cat blue. He returns to bed, pressing another kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips – sweet, promising. Obi-Wan raises a skeptical eyebrow but accepts the box. Inside, nestled in plush lining, gleam two impeccable noise-canceling earbuds, matte black.
"Happy birthday, Master," Anakin murmurs, eyes crinkling at the corners.
Outside their door, Blue Loth’s purrs rumble like a distant starship engine, perfectly content now his kingdom’s threshold lies open. Obi-Wan stares at the earbuds, then at his impossibly smug, beloved husband, and laughter finally bubbles up, chasing away the last vestiges of feline-induced frustration.