Chapter Text
It always feels different here. Different in that way where it feels more honest, more at home than he ever feels in his waking life.
Here, the darkness that always permeates his mind is clarifying rather than clouding. He relishes the relief he feels wash over him when he comes here. Like the crumbling of his life around him no longer feels like his own fault. Like there is something better in the wings heading towards him. Something coming next that every shitty experience was paving the way for.
Here in the dark, it is so peaceful. It doesn’t feel confusing or overwhelming or suffocating. Just pure and comforting like something that always is and always will be, ever flowing with the rhythm and cycles of life.
The comfort he feels is like a physical presence, can almost see it manifesting around the edges of his perception, a blanket of quiet certainty.
But the best is when the other presence shows up, the one that’s bright and blinding, appearing as if manifesting in the center of the nebulous darkness. It always makes him feel safe and cocooned. There's nothing that could happen to him as long as he stays within the sight of this entity. It almost feels like there is no separation between them in here. They're one and the same and instead of being afraid of this dissolution of identity, he feels right. Safe. Warm.
—-
Anakin is no stranger to dreaming, has done so vividly his whole life, but these dreams featuring that bright warm presence only started recently, perhaps a month or two ago, and have steadily persisted since.
The warmth he felt in the dream persists in his chest long after waking, and the reality of living on his ex’s couch doesn’t hurt quite so bad. He quickly gets himself ready for the day, throwing on a fresh pair of clothes and grabbing his bag of necessities before sneaking out of the apartment. Most mornings and evenings he can avoid Ferus, thank goodness, their schedules never usually lining up.
Anakin tugs at the warmth within him, something he recently realized he could interact with, and the warmth tugs back, blooming in his chest and spreading through his body.
He heads down to the parking lot and sits for a minute to check for any important messages before starting the car.
Ahsoka and Rex’s place is not far away, the only detour to pick up a coffee and energy drink.
Once there, Anakin lets himself in with the key he was given as soon as they had moved in. In case of emergency, they had said, but Anakin just laughed. They knew what they were signing up for.
He opens the door as quietly as he can, which isn’t saying much. Same as every morning, the hinges squeak. He really should get some oil on them.
And the same as every morning, the body on the couch stirs.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Anakin says, far more chipper than he feels, and puts one of the energy drinks on the coaster in front of him.
“Every fucking morning, Skywalker,” the man grumbles and rolls over, tucking his face into the back of the couch.
Rex’s brother, Fives (Anakin still doesn’t know his given name), has been crashing on his couch longer than Anakin has been relegated to his ex’s couch. Fives had a nasty previous landlord that ended in a legal battle and he’s been at Rex and Ahsoka’s since, the three of them planning to get a bigger apartment together when their lease is up.
Anakin chuckles and heads into the kitchen to get a pot of coffee started before slumping into a kitchen chair to scroll while waiting for it to finish. Fridays are usually a chill day, Ahsoka has class in the afternoon, so if she needs any help with her assignments they usually work on that in the morning after they all eat and wake up.
Not long after he gets his own cup made and starts rummaging through the fridge to start some breakfast, Rex comes shuffling into the kitchen, ever enticed by the smell of brewing coffee. He leans over Anakin to put the energy drink that was left on the table in the fridge before pouring his own cup of coffee, black.
“Morning, Rex,” Anakin says, once again more chipper than necessary
Rex grunts and goes to sit at the table.
“Don’t you want to know what I’m making for breakfast, dear?” Anakin says, voice saccharine and hands full of ingredients, shaking them in Rex’s direction.
“I figure I’ll find out soon enough,” he grumbles, and they both know good and well that Rex won’t eat anything until he gets back from the gym.
Anakin sets to work, chopping the onion and potatoes before throwing them in the biggest pan he was able to find at the store when he started crashing their mornings.
He loves the feeling of being here. It’s laid-back and familiar, holding him close, and he sinks into the comfort as soon as he enters the door. The dream rears its head in his mind, and if he looks closely enough, he can see the languid flow of golden filaments shimmering in and out of his perception, and resists the urge to play with them.
He has known how to manipulate these filaments ever since childhood when intuition guided him and his idea of fun was sitting alone and practicing. He never understood why he was the only one of his peers that was able to see it and interact with it. Eventually it didn’t matter; he became the weird kid that nobody wanted to be around.
He didn’t care. It had been overwhelming as a child, and the filaments were ever present in his vision, overlaying the world like everything was covered in a gold, shimmering spider's web, dense enough he could reach out and weave his hands through it.
He learned, perhaps not quickly enough, that it was the kind of thing that needed to be kept quiet. He also learned, later than he would have liked, that there were other people with similar gifts and abilities that present in a different way. He had yet to meet someone who was able to see the world and the world beyond it in the same way he was able to.
One of the most interesting people he has conversed with about it is Ahsoka who enters the kitchen with a groggy, “morning, Skyguy.”
“Morning, Snips,” Anakin responds without taking his eyes off the sausage he’s breaking up in the pan.
Ahsoka sits down at the table, coffee already steaming in a mug next to her, and begins shuffling her tarot deck. She draws three cards and contemplates them for a few minutes before writing furiously in her notebook.
Anakin smiles to himself, relishing the sound of pen on paper, scratching Ahsoka’s thoughts and insights into physical reality, while he finishes up the hash, scrambling the eggs.
When breakfast is finished, he turns off the stove and gets himself another cup of coffee before loading up two plates. He grabs a fork for each of them out of the drawer, before heading over to the table to place a plate next to Ahsoka.
“What’s in store for today?” Anakin asks when the writing stops and she digs into her food.
“You remember my reading for the week that said something big was going to happen?” Ahsoka asks after finishing a particularly big bite.
“Yeah, but so far it’s been pretty boring. Just more of the same,” Anakin responds.
“I think today is the day,”
“Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?” Anakin asks. He’s been looking at the cards. Hard not to when they’re sitting out on the table right in front of him, but he has never picked up a tarot deck and therefore never learned the cards or their meanings.
“Pull a card for me,” Anakin asks, despite not phrasing it as a question.
Ahsoka rolls her eyes. “I don’t have to pull a card for you. I already know it’s going to be The Fool.”
“Oh, come on, Snips! Just one card? For me? What if I need insight for the thing that’s supposed to happen today and you withhold that from me because you don’t want to see one of the same 72 cards in your deck that you see constantly when you read?”
Ahsoka levels him with such an unimpressed look it could curdle milk, shuffles the deck and flips the top card.
The Fool.
“Told you,” Ahsoka says.
Anakin groans and rolls his eyes.
Ahsoka only laughs, and they fall into easy conversation as they eat together.
“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Anakin asks when Ahsoka gets up for another cup of coffee.
“Well, my professor sent out an email saying they had an emergency and class is canceled today, so who knows. I was thinking about just taking a chill out day before we all go out tonight.”
“Or you could use the extra time to work on your project.”
“Booo, I thought you were supposed to be a fun mentor.”
“Hey, I’m not technically your mentor anymore. I’m just cool enough that you stuck around after you graduated.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ahsoka rolls her eyes but still checks Anakin with her shoulder.
—
When they pull up to the club later that evening, the music is pulsating, escaping the club and raising the energy of the people waiting in line.
Anakin loves this place. As soon the building comes into sight, he can see the filaments, dense and dancing around it, so bright that it draws him in. He knows no one else is able to see it, but he knows they can feel it, the shimmering warmth drawing them in like moths. His anticipation spikes, energy buzzing through him as they move ever closer to the entrance.
They get to the door and show their IDs to Fives who ushers them in. He doesn’t even pretend to look too hard at Ahsoka’s fake ID.
Entering this place is like walking into another dimension. The whole place is red, and the red lights illuminating it give it a dangerous yet ethereal glow. The walls are lined with art depicting grand mythologies. The Chancellor had once told Anakin it was because power relies on myth to seem grander and more permanent than it is in reality.
Anakin and Rex head for the bar, Ahsoka taking off to claim an empty table for them. There are few tables here, the only ones to sit at are each tucked into circular alcoves along the wall, though there are many more hightops spread throughout for people to gather around and rest their drinks while shouting over the music in an attempt to be heard by their friends.
A drink for each of them in hand, Anakin and Rex make their way to the table Ahsoka pointed out to them before separating. Anakin takes a large swig from the cocktail before sliding the glass over to Ahsoka. He’ll wait a few minutes before heading back to the bar to get his own drink. Ahsoka looks at the glass with disgust coloring her expression, but she doesn’t comment, picks it up and takes a sip through the straw.
“At least he had the decency to not use the straw,” Rex shouts.
“He’d have gotten me another one,” Ahsoka shouts back, leaning towards Rex like she’s talking to him, all the while staring Anakin down.
“I can’t believe this is the thanks I get for getting you alcohol!” Anakin says, dramatically putting a hand over his chest.
After a few minutes of friendly bickering, Anakin makes his way back to the bar.
As Anakin walks through the room, he weaves his way through the luminescent webs of energy that seem to be a feature of this place. When he had first started seeing these webs as a child, it had scared him. He didn’t know what they were and no one around him was able to see them at all. The adults around him were starting to get worried when he would refuse, kicking and screaming, to go in certain directions where the webs were in abundance. Soon enough he realized that he was able to make his way through them easily, and when the filaments brushed past him the only thing he could compare it to at the time was a warm hug and gentle caress from his mother.
Now, though, he has known it to feel like many different things, depending on the energy of the situations around him or whatever residual energy has been left behind, untampered with. And tonight he feels those gentle tendrils begin to electrify in a wholly new way.
Well, not completely new.
New in the physical world, in the way the hairs stand up on his arms as the energy crackles when it brushes past, the way it feels more viscous to move through and he has to mentally adjust so it doesn’t appear obvious in his gait. New in the way he is certain this is what Ahsoka had been talking about, what she was waiting for.
In every other way, though, it was wholly familiar, and his mind immediately recalls the peace of the darkness in his dreams, floating in nothingness, and the flare of excitement, of something else deep and unnameable rising up in his being on those nights he is visited by the light.
He vibrates with excitement and reaches out into that feeling of the light from his dreams. It’s stronger than he’s ever felt it, like it woke up and walked right out of his dreams to take up residence in the real world.
The web of filaments swirl languidly around him, and his mind goes hazy in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. He sinks into the warmth and the feeling of home, something he hasn’t felt in the waking world in quite some time, at least not this strong. He could swear the web of filaments is more dense as it buffets against him like waves as if trying to direct his attention.
He follows the direction, used to it. It’s how he moves on the dance floor, hell its the whole reason he even comes out. To feel so at peace, at one with the world around him manifesting as this peculiar phenomenon.
Anakin keeps walking toward the bar, his course not completely shifted. The energy stays intent, but grows heavy with something like anticipation. He watches the filaments dance and hum in front of him forming a trail of tendrils. He is confused but does not question it, he has never seen nor felt them as such a solid and physical presence before, but it feels so very normal all at the same time.
He watches the tendrils dance and swirl around an auburn-haired man at the bar and Anakin’s steps falter. He stares, he can’t help it. The filaments make little sunbursts around him, exploding in iridescent light. What the hell, I’ve never seen it behave like this before.
He gets an idea as he starts moving forward again, and before he can stop himself, he’s tugging on that warmth he has come to cherish.
The usual bloom that happens is his chest is magnified tenfold and envelops his entire body. The man’s head perks up, he stands straighter, and turns to look around him, immediately locking eyes with Anakin.
The whole world is overlaid with his dream in an instant, everything around them going dark, and this man lit up, the center of the world, pulling him in. Anakin has the sudden urge to press up against this man, energies merging, to fall into him with the inexplicable knowledge that it would be safe to do so.
The other man seems to be having an equally puzzling yet profound experience as Anakin makes his way over to him at the bar. He doesn’t know to what extent the other man is able to feel whatever just happened between them. He has always been highly attuned to the energies around him, but there is something intense in the other man’s eyes that has him going weak at the knees.
“What’ll it be?” The bartender is on Anakin almost immediately, familiar with him to the point of friendliness and doesn’t usually keep him waiting.
“A shot of vodka, and a sex on the beach,” Anakin says easily. The man raises an eyebrow, and Anakin winks.
“Put it on my tab,” he tells the bartender when he puts the drink in front of Anakin.
Anakin watches the man raise his own glass and mirrors the movement. “Thanks,” he says and it comes out embarrassingly breathless.
Anakin has no idea what to actually say. What do you say to a stranger that you have been feeling and seeking comfort in for nearly a month. For the first time, Anakin fears just how much this person can feel of whatever it is connecting them as he remembers the last couple of times he has pleasured himself with the feeling of this person fully enveloping him. He can’t stop the fierce blush overtaking his face and neck.
As if the man knows what he’s thinking about, or perhaps he’s just responding to Anakin’s reaction, he huffs out a laugh over the rim of his glass.
“I take it you can feel it, too, then,” the man says, staring intently at Anakin as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Yes,” is all Anakin can manage, heart racing in his chest, anticipation threatening to choke him.
The man lowers his drink and smiles softly, and the calm that Anakin has come to crave washes over him. “Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he says and holds out his hand.
Anakin stares at the man, at the hand extended to him, at the facsimile of a casual first meeting that threatens to undo him with the absurdity of it all.
“Anakin Skywalker,” Anakin says and takes his hand, touch electrifying his senses, sending a jolt straight up his spine.
The man, Obi-Wan, gives him a look and an appreciative hum before something more mischievous spreads across his face. “So, Anakin Skywalker. Do you come here often?”
Anakin groans and rolls his eyes, but the grin stays firmly plastered on his face.
—-
After what is perhaps the cheesiest pick up line known to man, they both decide to move somewhere less busy, sick of being jostled on either side by people trying to get drunk. As much as Anakin would love to stay talking to Obi-Wan one on one, a glance around the place is enough to see that there are no open tables available, so Anakin offers the next best thing that will hopefully not scare this gorgeous man off.
“I’m here with some friends,” Anakin leans into Obi-Wan’s space to be heard over the music. “They should still be at a table.”
“Lead the way,” Obi-Wan says, still looking at him intently. He pushes away from the bar, drink in one hand, the other sliding down to the small of Anakin’s back.
Molten energy pools low in Anakin’s stomach as he leads Obi-Wan back to the table, Obi-Wan keeping contact the whole way, realistically just to make sure they don’t get separated, but Anakin can’t bring himself to care.
“What took you so long?” Ahsoka asks when she sees Anakin, before she registers another person with him.
“I think we just found out,” Rex says, leaning toward Ahsoka, more for her than a jab at Anakin, but he hears it anyway.
“Guys, this is Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, this is Ahsoka and Rex.” Anakin introduces them all, waving a hand in front of each person as they are introduced.
“It’s nice to meet you both, but Rex, you wouldn’t happen to have a brother named Cody, would you?” Obi-Wan asks.
“How do you know Cody?” Rex asks, surprised.
“Oh, we used to play rugby together. We still get drinks to catch up every now and again,” Obi-Wan says, and Anakin looks him up and down again at the revelation, wishing he could get a view of his ass from this angle.
“Now that you mention it, I think I remember him mentioning you a couple of times,” Rex says.
They fall into easy, if loud conversation after that. Their conversation covers many topics, from why Obi-Wan stopped playing rugby (injury), some shitty coworkers Rex has been dealing with at work.
After a couple hours of enjoyably friendly conversation, Anakin’s body is buzzing, overstimulated and hyperaware of the elevated energy around him, the webs not ceasing in their activity. Normally during his daily life, if he is even able to see the energy at all, he can only see a small amount of dancing filaments glinting as they move, rarely is he somewhere where the energy is so dense that he can see the full web of them all strung together, and even rarer still can he see and feel those webs moving and flowing with the energetic current of a place. It pushes and pulls at him and he forces himself to sit still to stay visibly normal.
He knows Ahsoka can tell what’s going on with him, she keeps shooting concerned looks at him across the table, even slyly shoots him a text to check in. He just nods at her. He’ll be okay, all he needs to do is dance. Hopefully he’ll be able to get Obi-Wan to join him.
Eventually, Rex checks the time and sighs, announces that he needs to be up early for work and that he needs to be going. Ahsoka perks up too, she had promised her friend Bariss that they would get together in the morning to work on their project for class together, and asks Anakin if he’s going to stay. She’s giving him an out if he needs it, and he appreciates her concern, but no way in hell is he leaving yet, he still has too many questions for Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan was also clearly dealing with the thought of what on earth to say to someone whom you have been deeply intertwined with for a while now that doesn’t make one sound completely insane and unwell. But Ankain needs to know just how much this stranger who feels like the most familiar person in the world has been able to feel. If he has found someone who can feel things on his level. Who won’t think he’s crazy for his eccentric behavior when it comes to his intuition.
“How long have you… felt this?” he asks tentatively.
The man thinks for a moment, genuinely considering the question. “A couple of weeks now, I believe. It was subtle at first, but it quickly became… overwhelming. How long has it been for you?”
“Almost a month. At first, I just thought I was in an unusually good mood, but,” he hesitated, didn’t know if mentioning the things he could sense would draw this man in or chase him away, but knowing just how poorly his relationships with people who couldn’t understand or appreciate his sensitivity went, he figured getting it out of the way right off the bat would be for the best, even if he feared losing this man before he ever had the chance to have him. “But I started to notice the tendrils associated with it, with you, and they just kept growing and getting stronger until… tonight”
“Tendrils?” Obi-Wan asks and leans in as if they are conspiring. and the question is one of genuine curiosity instead of mild concern for Anakin’s mental state.
“Tendrils,” Anakin smiles, and his hands start weaving through the air, a graceful dance.
As they move with intent, the tendrils become visible, silvery things threading through the space lighting up and connecting all things.
He easily finds the tendril connecting him and Obi-Wan. He has been playing with it for weeks now, reveling in the feeling of the connection and wondering what it feels like on the other end.
He looks at Obi-Wan for any clues as to what he feels, if anything, as Anakin follows their thread. Obi-Wan manages a pretty good poker face, but he can see him starting to sway in time with Anakin’s movements as if being lulled into something comforting.
Anakin can tell the thread is getting close to its connection point in Obi-Wan because the man sits more upright and his gaze becomes more intent. Anakin has an idea and a wicked smile spreads across his face before he tugs at the tendril. Obi-Wan lurches forward, shock evident on his face.
“How did you do that?” Obi-Wan gasps, shooting glances around as if trying to see the tendrils himself.
“Dunno,” Anakin shrugs. “It’s just one of those things I’ve always been able to do.”
“You were never taught how to do that? Never trained by anyone?”
“No?” Anakin responds as if he never considered that was even an option. “I mean, once I realized I could do certain things, I would practice to try to get better at it, but no one taught me how to do anything.”
Obi-Wan laughs, shock and awe coloring the sound. “You are something incredible, Anakin Skywalker,” and Anakin wants to do whatever he has to to feel this elation again, to hear words like that leave this man’s lips. “Okay, my turn, though I’m afraid it won’t be near as impressive as you,” and Anakin’s heart flips. His turn? Could this man be the same as him?
Obi-Wan breathes in deep and exhales slowly, closing his eyes
“What song do you want to hear next?” Obi-Wan asks, and Anakin balks at the question. There’s no way…
Anakin runs through a mental catalogue of the songs he loves dancing to here, and names the one he hasn’t heard the longest.
They sit for a few minutes waiting for the current song to finish, Obi-Wan obviously concentrating, but trying to pretend like he isn’t. Eyes darting about beneath his eyelids like he’s searching for something, or multiple somethings. After a minute, he opens his eyes and grins at Anakin with a “that should do it.”
Anakin just looks at him disbelieving, but eager to be proven wrong. When the familiar beat blares through the sound system, Anakin lets out a disbelieving whoop. “No way! I haven’t heard this one here in ages! How did you do that? And what do you mean less impressive?”
“I’m afraid it is much easier to influence the immaterial world than the material one. It is a matter of simple suggestion, though it is much easier to accomplish a goal the longer a time frame you have.”
“Dance with me,” Anakin says before he can think better of it and grabs Obi-Wan’s wrist to lead him to the dance floor. Obi-Wan reaches back to down the rest of his drink in one go before allowing Anakin to drag him out.
“I must warn you, I’m not much of a dancer,” Obi-Wan shouts to be heard over the noise, now that he isn’t standing in Anakin’s immediate space.
“Don’t care!” Anakin shouts back.
This is what Anakin loves. Being in the crowd, losing himself. It is pure meditation and just about the only thing he has found that puts him in a state to reliably see the threads weaving around him. To touch his magic.
He can see the underlying workings of the crowd around him. Approvals and disapprovals. Obi-Wan was correct in his assessment that his dancing would not be well received by this crowd, though the man is not bad, not by a long shot. His movements are practiced and self assured, though Anakin can tell he’s holding himself back, aware that his style of dance is not one typically appreciated by a crowd of people whose main goal of the night is to grind on the hottest strangers they can find, the ones most amenable to continuing things elsewhere.
Anakin can’t take his eyes off of him, even as the tendrils of the crowd fight for dominance with the immense presence of Obi-Wan. This is a man who knows himself and does not bow to the demands of a crowd.
The shimmering tendrils are now more visible to him, and he can see the force of the crowd combined prodding and clashing with Obi-Wan, who seems aware, but resolutely holding firm against it. Anakin wishes he knew how that felt from Obi-Wan’s perception of not being able to see the tendrils, and he watches as his own tendrils wrap around Obi-Wan matching and mollifying the crowd around them on one side, while mingling and merging with with the mass of tendrils surrounding Obi-Wan. He can tell Obi-Wan can feel that and their bodies move closer together.
Anakin leans down and his lips brush against Obi-Wan's ear as he speaks, and the nerves in that delicate skin light up as if they’ve been burned. “This crowd doesn’t like you. The energy has coalesced and is trying to push you out,” Anakin shouts despite their proximity to be heard over the music. The music, the dictator of the movement.
“Tell me, then, by what force am I being kept here?”
Anakin grins like a cat that just caught a canary. “Me.”
Obi-Wan is impressed, but puts on just a touch of a disbelieving air to try to hide the fact that he is incredibly turned on.
As if to prove it, Anakin lets his protection drop, pulls his tendrils back to himself, and the people around them begin buffeting against Obi-Wan and he finds himself being slowly pushed away from Anakin, the eye in the center of a storm.
Realizing he has made his point, Anakin grins and reaches back out for him, same fluid movements as before, intentionally weaving himself through the tapestry of the crowd and latching onto Obi-Wan. He rebuilds the shield and Obi-Wan is slowly moved back to where Anakin is still standing.
Obi-Wan is smiling at him, mouth agape in shock as they move towards each other. “How on earth did you do that?”
Anakin just winks at him, to which Obi-Wan huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.
They stay on the dance floor for another two songs before they begin to tire.
After dancing they head back to the bar for another drink, then to another empty table they can find. We’ll continue to play with this interaction and how they can be sizing each other up. Towards the end of the interaction, Obi-Wan is talking about the Order and potentially finding someone there who can train Anakin to be able to use his magic more effectively.
“I don’t know, I’d say my magic is pretty effective as it is.”
“Effective, yes, but untrained, meaning you are only able to utilize it to a limited degree”
“You don’t want to train me?” Anakin asks, leaning into Obi-Wan’s space to look at him through his lashes.
“I’m afraid I have other responsibilities to attend to. Plus I'm sure there are others who would be a much better match as an instructor.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Anakin breathes against Obi-Wan’s lips.
Obi-Wan only hums in response before capturing Anakin's lips with his own.
After a heated kiss, they break apart, panting.
“I really do need to be going, I have an early morning, but what are you doing tomorrow?” he asks and holds out his phone, new contact page pulled up.
“Umm, I don’t have any plans,” Anakin says quickly, and it’s true. He doesn’t have any plans that can’t be moved around for a chance at more time with this man.
“Excellent,” he says and pulls out his phone and hands it to Anakin. “Give me your number.”
Anakin takes the phone and quickly inputs his contact information.
Obi-Wan hums in approval before typing something into his phone. “Meet me at this address, around 1? And we can see about finding someone willing to train you in how to use your magic to its full potential. And maybe after, we can celebrate,” he adds, voice dripping in promise making Anakin shiver.
“Yeah,” is all Anakin is able to get out before Obi-Wan’s mouth is on his again.
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, then.”