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Rain battered against the high windows of Obi-Wan’s quarters in soft, endless waves. Coruscant storms were strange things. Not natural, really; manufactured atmosphere and city heat and sky traffic all colliding into towering clouds above the planet-wide cityscape.
Lightning flashed between skyscrapers like fractured stars, illuminating the room in pale silver before fading back into darkness. The storm had started less than an hour ago, and Anakin hated it already.
A crack split the sky, loud and close, and the little boy jumped so hard he nearly fell off the couch entirely. Wide blue eyes snapped toward the windows.
“What’s that?!”
Obi-Wan looked up from his book immediately. The panic in Anakin’s voice was immediate and instinctive, and it hurt Obi-wan’s heart. He set the book aside.
“That’s thunder,” he said gently.
Anakin stared at him, tiny hands knotted tightly in the blanket pooled in his lap. “What’s thunder?”
Another flash lit the room. Three seconds later came the rolling BOOM and with it, another flinch from Anakin.
Obi-Wan softened instantly. Oh. Of course. Tatooine barely got rainstorms, and the ones they did were certainly not like this. And on Coruscant, thunder could sound enormous with all the skyscrapers echoing it back and forth through the city.
“It’s only noise,” Obi-Wan explained quietly. “The lightning heats the air very quickly, and the sound follows afterward.”
Anakin frowned at the window suspiciously. “The sky explodes?”
“Not exactly.”
“It sounds explode-y.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
Another rumble rolled across the skyline and Anakin immediately inched closer. He wasn’t doing it consciously, Obi-Wan was pretty sure. It was an automatic response. It rather reminded him of a tooka kitten seeking warmth.
Obi-Wan tried very hard not to melt on the spot. He was a Jedi Knight now. Like an actual, proper Jedi Knight. He was supposed to be composed and wise and mature. Not emotional because a nine-year-old scooted a few inches closer during a storm.
Lightning flashed again, this one brighter. The thunder cracked almost immediately afterward. Anakin startled violently, then looked embarrassed about it. That hurt Obi-Wan’s heart far more than the fear itself.
“I’m scared,” Anakin whispered quietly. The words came out reluctant, like he thought maybe he wasn’t supposed to admit that. Obi-Wan’s chest squeezed a little bit tighter.
“Oh, Anakin.” He lifted one arm immediately, inviting the child to curl up next to him. “I’ve got you.”
Anakin hesitated for less than a second before curling against his side, small and warm and trembling just slightly beneath the blanket.
Obi-Wan pulled the boy closer carefully, wrapping the blanket more securely around him. “It can’t hurt you here,” he murmured. Another boom echoed outside and Anakin buried his face briefly against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan smiled softly despite himself. “There we are.”
“I don’t like it,” Anakin mumbled.
“That’s alright.”
“You’re not scared?”
“A little.”
Anakin looked up immediately. “You are?”
“Mm.” Obi-Wan brushed a hand through his curls gently. “Everyone gets frightened sometimes.”
That seemed to surprise Anakin. Another flash lit the room and Anakin tensed automatically. Obi-Wan squeezed him lightly before the thunder even arrived. When the boom came, Anakin didn’t jump as hard.
“See?” Obi-Wan whispered, “The thunder always comes after the lightning.” Anakin sniffled slightly. “So if you see the flash first, you know the noise is coming.”
The little boy thought about that very seriously. “…So it can’t sneak up on me?”
“Exactly.”
Anakin relaxed a fraction more.
Outside, rain streaked endlessly down the glass, and the city lights blurred gold and white through the storm haze. Despite the weather, the room itself felt warm. It felt safe.
Obi-Wan shifted slightly deeper into the couch cushions. Anakin remained tucked securely against his side now, blanket wrapped around both of them. The boy’s death grip on the fabric had loosened a little.
“What if the lightning hits us?”
“It won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the Temple has lightning rods.”
Anakin blinked. “…What’s a lightning rod?”
Obi-Wan laughed quietly. “Oh dear. We may be here all night.”
Anakin smiled properly this time, small and sleepy, but trusting. It hit Obi-Wan with startling force sometimes—that trust. The sheer terrifying responsibility of it. This child looked at him like he hung the stars and Obi-Wan was only twenty-three. He still occasionally burned soup.
Another rumble rolled through the city, but it was softer now. The storm was farther away. Anakin still pressed closer and Obi-Wan tightened his arm around him without thinking.
“Master?”The word came quietly, half-drowned out by the rain.
“Yes?”
“…Can I stay in here with you tonight?”
Obi-Wan looked down. Anakin was trying very hard to appear casual about it. Which would have worked better if he wasn’t already halfway curled into Obi-Wan’s lap.
Obi-Wan smiled softly. “Of course you can.”
Anakin visibly relaxed. “You don’t mind?”
“Not even a little bit.” Another beat. Then, gently: “You never have to be frightened alone, Anakin.”
The boy went very still at that. Obi-Wan suddenly wasn’t entirely sure Anakin had heard that since he’d left Tatooine. He silently promised to say it more.
Outside, thunder rolled again, in the far distance now. The storm was moving farther across the cityscape.
Anakin yawned, a tiny sleepy thing he immediately tried to hide. Obi-Wan graciously pretended not to notice.
“Try to rest,” he whispered and Anakin nodded against his shoulder. Within minutes his breathing had evened out. Obi-Wan sat there long after Anakin had succumbed to sleep, one arm around his sleeping Padawan, listening to the rain. He watched the lightning flash across Coruscant’s endless skyline.
Somewhere deep in his chest, beneath the fear and responsibility and uncertainty of sudden knighthood, something warm settled quietly into place. Whatever else happened, whatever terrible things the future brought, and pains they went through, he swore right then to himself that Anakin would never face a storm alone.