Work Text:
Luke glanced up at his father, his small, rosy lip caught between his teeth. Anakin smiled encouragingly and nodded towards the droid on the workbench. The boy was perched on a stool beside the man, a screwdriver in his small hands.
“Go ahead, little star. Take the screws out of the panel and open the main energy converter. Remember what I told you. Lefty loosey…”
“Righty tighty,” Luke mumbled, using both hands to carefully twist out the four screws and peel back the panel. He tossed the small sheet of metal aside. It overshot and clattered to the ground.
“Uh oh.” Luke glanced down, then turned back to the open energy converter inside the droid.
Suddenly, Anakin was back in Watto’s shop. Having just dropped something, he didn’t even remember what. His cheek stung with phantom pain. The echoes of a backhand flashing behind his eyes.
His throat tightened.
Luke waved his small hands up, breaking him out of the painful memory.
“Daddy,” the small boy chattered in a soft voice. “Help,” he requested simply, and a wave of strong paternal affection swelled tightly in his chest. He looked down at his son, his pride and joy. He nodded, clearing his throat, and his Adam's apple bobbed.
Anakin gave him the next instructions, repeating patiently when the small boy asked. He gazed lovingly at his boy, his gloved cybernetic hand rising automatically and smoothing down soft, light golden curls that bounced back into place.
He gently tapped the small button nose, his grin widening.
“That’s right, my little star. Try again,” he murmured, sitting with his small child in the garage, tinkering with a droid, teaching Luke his mechanic knowledge.