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It was late evening when they arrived back at the Temple. They were advised, by a cranky and quite displeased Mace Windu, that their debriefing would be in the morning. As they could have guessed, he bit out, if they thought before they rang door chimes.

Obi-Wan rocked back on his feet and cast a bemused smile up at Anakin. His partner was still quite tense from the mission to Utapau, despite the favorable resolution. Anakin typically did enjoy ending things with a bang.

"Sparring?" Obi-Wan asked lightly.

Anakin took a beat too long to respond to him, scowling before he deliberately blanked his expression. The smile he shot Obi-Wan was fake, tense, and otherwise barely deserving of the word.

"Nope. I've got …" He struggled for a moment to come up with an excuse before gesturing vaguely with his gloved hand. "Things."

"Ah."

Anakin lifted his chin, eyes narrowing at the perceived disbelief.

"The Senator has asked me to dinner," he said. His voice was low and hostile, daring Obi-Wan to object.

Obi-Wan somewhat doubted that Anakin was telling the truth. He'd not left Anakin's side since they disembarked back onto Coruscant and it was quite late besides. Unless it was a standing arrangement – and that was a possibility he quite refused to contemplate – Anakin was blowing him off and using his dalliance with Padme Amidala as cover for it.

"Of course," Obi-Wan replied. He inclined his head. "Give her my best – and tell her I've heard many medics quite advise against dining so late at night. Indigestion."

"I'm sure she is aware, Master. And keeps her own counsel on what she does."

Well. That was rather pointed.

Anakin swept away, grumbling to himself as he did, leaving Obi-Wan only to stare at his back. He felt wrongfooted by this conversation, caught off guard after what had seemed a quite productive mission together.

He knew, of course, that Ahsoka's departure from the Order had hit Anakin quite hard. It was not until Utapau that he had realized Anakin was still prone to lapses, forgetting that Ahsoka was not there to call upon in the field – which was quite worrisome. Anakin was hardly a forgetful man and that kind of fumble could cost him dearly during a mission. That he continued to blame the Jedi Council for the outcome of Ahsoka's trial, despite the political pressures and the eventual exoneration via Anakin's own investigation, was another troubling matter. Obi-Wan could certainly admit that he did not think they'd handled it particularly well, but justice had been found in the end.

It was too important to Anakin's own spiritual well-being that he learn to let it go. Casting blame on the Order, or the Council, would gain him nothing but grief.

Though it did seem that Anakin knew that and was fully prepared to dish it out rather than take it, if Utapau was any indication. It was hard to characterize Anakin's behavior as anything other than a tantrum, yet nothing Obi-Wan had done seemed to sooth Anakin's upset.

Obi-Wan rubbed his hand over his beard, wondering how it was that he would be able to reach out to Anakin, to mend what was rent between them. It hardly seemed possible when missions only made their disconnect more obvious and when Anakin fled any opportunity to simply sit and talk during leave.

The door whooshed open behind him and Mace poked his head out. His teeth gleamed white, eyes narrowed as he glared at Obi-Wan.

"Stop thinking so loudly while I'm trying to sleep," he growled.

The door snapped back closed and Obi-Wan took an involuntary step backward.

He shored up his shields instinctively. Perhaps Anakin was not the only one out of sorts, he thought. Meditation, he decided. Exhausting, form driven, moving meditation. Perhaps with the heat turned up.

That would be enough to put him to bed, if not ease his mind.

Obi-Wan passed through the solemn and silent halls of the Temple, enjoying the way his footsteps resounded on the starlit stone. He'd been away for far too long, immersed in missions. Striving rather than seeking. It was not the Jedi way and he could admit that it was starting to take a toll on him as well as Anakin.

He reached his quarters, looking across the hall only briefly to Anakin's closed door. Ahsoka's was several levels down, among the Padawans, unlikely to be filled any time soon. Younglings continued to grow and be apprenticed, but so many Padawans and young Knights had fallen in the war that there was hardly worry they would be pressed for dormitory space any time soon. It had been difficult to find Anakin a room across from Obi-Wan's when he was first Knighted; Obi-Wan may or may not have used his leverage on the Council as the Hero of Geonosis to make it happen. Now the Temple was nigh upon empty, would be even if all in the field were called home.

Clustered in front of Anakin's door, there were several little mouse droids. Obi-Wan frowned down at them. They were not waiting for their master's return, but instead appeared broken. Younglings in the Temple must have collected them from where their batteries had died, little servos no longer whirring, and brought them back to Anakin to fix. He'd left without attending to them.

Obi-Wan sighed and shook off the oddly melancholy thought as he keyed his own apartment open and entered, door closing behind him. Anakin would trip on them when he returned and, besides, he hardly cared what Anakin did or did not tinker with. The Temple did not need little mouse droids. They weren't even custodians!

He set the lights to low and began to disrobe, laying his lightsaber on his window sill and unwinding his belt to drop to the floor. Anakin did not need to know how fastidious he was not when there were no Padawans about who needed good examples. The layers of his tunic soon followed, drifting down to cover one of his feet. He nudged it to the side and bent to remove his boots.

Suitably undressed for the exercise he had planned, he flicked two fingers at the switch on the wall controlling the temperature and raised it a scalding ten degrees. A gust of hot air blew over him and he set a grim smile on his face as he began to move, muscles tense for the slow and steady gestures of the kata. It was simple now, relaxing and meditative. In an hour, it would be brutal to maintain.

Obi-Wan was perhaps twenty minutes into the exercise when he felt an odd prickle along the line of his back. He exhaled haltingly, eyes closed as he tried to focus on the sensation. It almost felt like fingertips, a light and teasing touch, fleeting as it was intimate.

He did not chase the source, dismissing it instead to return to his kata. He shifted position, holding himself upright on one foot and smoothly moving into a sideways lunge.

It was several positions more before the sensation returned, far stronger and more erotic. Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open and he sucked in a breath, muscles twitching.

"Anakin," he hissed, teeth gritting against the feeling of a slender hand wrapped around his dick. It had to be him – or, more accurately, it was Amidala and her interpretation of what a dinner date entailed.

They did not differ terribly on that point, Obi-Wan thought, even as he struggled against the secondhand arousal stiffening his dick. The thin, rough material of his trousers chafed against the suddenly sensitive tip and he sighed, dropping all pretense that he would complete the katas. He glared at his door, visualizing Anakin's beyond it.

He was such a complete and thorough asshole.

And Obi-Wan needed a cold shower.

***

Master Windu pushed their debriefing back, ostensibly due to holes in their mission report – specifically analysis of the energy signature generated by the crystal – but Obi-Wan was well aware that it was a deliberate snub based on their midnight interruption of his sleep.

Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand over his face as he stared at the locked Council Chamber door. Would that he could get extra sleep as well, but he knew that was as likely as winning a wrestling match against a gundark in his current condition. He felt simultaneously exhausted and wired, unpleasantly so. Sleep, to the extent that it had happened, had been a restless, hot, aroused affair, full of unbidden images of people he generally cared not to think of naked and the sweaty press of phantom flesh against his own.

Cursing himself, Anakin, the stars and the Force itself, he'd eventually given up and, with a glower at himself in the mirror and gritted teeth, decided to take himself in hand after a succession of unhelpful showers in the fresher.

Anakin would pay for this, he determined. If he ever deigned to show up at the Temple again. Obi-Wan had taken the necessary precaution of tuning their connection as finely as he could, narrowing the cord between them to little more than a whisper thin thread. Because while he could hardly imagine his life without his Forcebond to Anakin and while his distant, bright light was a comfort and a constant in Obi-Wan's life, he had a strong feeling that if he allowed any of Anakin across that bond again, he'd find himself quite incapable of comporting himself appropriately as a Jedi. And no one needed to see that.

The worst of it was that he didn't quite know if that meant an erection in the middle of the Temple halls or the furious and instant need to turn to the Dark Side so he might strangle Anakin from afar.

Only time would tell, Obi-Wan thought ruefully as he made his way to one of the data analysis chambers that were pinioned between the Archives and the Tranquility Spire. He didn't know what, precisely, Master Windu thought he and Anakin had recorded an energy signature on, but due diligence was called for. He could point out how inane the task was later, once he had Yoda there to side eye Mace with him.

Obi-Wan could no longer tell if the Force was with him – possibly as a sign that it not only had a will, but a sense of humor, he found Anakin was already at the data analysis chamber, looking worn and ruffled and entirely too tense for a man who had spent his night in carnal pursuits.

"Dinner wasn't to your liking?" Obi-Wan asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes on Anakin's back. He was bent over the computer console, fists against the duraplast as he pored over an analysis that, as far as Obi-Wan knew, did not exist.

Anakin jerked upright and blew out a breath, shooting Obi-Wan a look.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Obi-Wan was taken aback, though not by Anakin's tone. At this point he was accustomed to Anakin's temper. But he could not rightfully answer and hardly expected that he'd have to. They were wont to rib each other and then avoid the subtext of what they said.

"I merely meant that you seem no more refreshed than you would had you spent the night on the battlefield," Obi-Wan said after a pause.

Anakin narrowed his eyes.

"That's not what it sounded like." He stepped – no, stalked – closer to Obi-Wan and he felt a frisson of electricity climb up his back at Anakin's nearness, his intensity. "It sounded like you were making a comment about Senator Amidala."

A proper Jedi would not address such obvious, yet shallow, provocation. A proper Jedi deflected unnecessary concerns and confronted the true heart of the matter.

But for all that sleeplessness was hardly an excuse, it also happened to be precisely what was affecting Obi-Wan, in addition to stripped raw nerves and an utterly unresolved thrum of sexual arousal that, try as he might, he couldn't entirely push to the back of his mind.

"If I were," Obi-Wan replied crisply, "then the correct response would be agreement, Padawan, as she is no concern of yours."

Anakin's eyes truly were remarkable, particular at this distance. Fury is not attractive, Obi-Wan told himself. He was well and truly addled to think Anakin's eyes caught the light of the holoconsole, that his anger made him beautiful.

That the way he backed away, head snapped down into a sign of almost unwilling respect and obedience was even more arousing than all the images and half-real dreams Anakin had sent the night before.

Well, that certainly says the worst of you, Obi-Wan thought to himself.

"Of course. You're right, Master," Anakin grumbled.

Obi-Wan took a steadying breath, shaking off the sudden feelings as well as he could. They were motes adrift in the Force: unimportant and evanescent.

"I do apologize," he said. Anakin sent him a baffled look. "I did not mean to impugn the Senator."

"Yeah, well …" he trailed off, obviously unwilling to accept the apology, but frustrated with the direction of the conversation. He gestured instead to the droids beyond the transparisteel, clean room barrier. "I don't think they're going to find much. Definitely not enough to get us a reprieve from Master Windu."

If Anakin felt Obi-Wan's gratitude in the Force, he did not acknowledge it, but the distraction was quite welcome.

He frowned toward the analysis droids, pointing at them with two fingers.

"What do you have them looking at?"

Anakin gave him a sidelong glance. Obi-Wan felt his stomach twist. Oh, he had seen that expression before, all too many times. He sighed and resisted the urge to rub his temples.

"Do not tell me," he commanded sternly.

That alone was enough to compel Anakin to the truth.

"It had the best chance of absorbing residual energy from the crystal."

Obi-Wan was not the mechanic Anakin was – nor was he the mathematician, astrogater, or singer Anakin was, to list a few of Anakin's irritatingly endless talents. He was, however, quite skilled at reading Anakin and jumping to the worst, most likely conclusion based on the young man's expressions. This particular look of obstinacy that attempted to hide nagging guilt, limned with clear awareness that he had done something particularly foolish, could really only mean one thing.

"You gave the droid your kyber crystal?!" Obi-Wan asked in outrage. And when he peered again into the analysis chamber, it was obvious enough. The droid's pincers held the tiny sliver that was the focusing gem of Anakin's lightsaber and therefore as important as his own miraculously still-beating heart.

He expected the defensive sheepishness of Anakin's apprenticeship, but Anakin merely glowered back at him. Despite his automatic show of deference a moment ago, it seemed that shy and seeking boy was gone forever.

"I don't know what you think will happen to it in the Temple, Master."

Neither did Obi-Wan, but that wasn't the point. One didn't just dismantle a lightsaber. Even Anakin didn't modify his, despite his proclivity to enhance just about every machine he'd come across with the newest technologies as ideas struck him. Once made, a lightsaber was an entity unto itself, as inviolable and static, as pure as anything in a Jedi's life could be.

"It is not danger I worry of, Anakin. It is a disrespectful act."

Anakin scoffed.

"To who?"

Obi-Wan felt the air in the room still itself, the Force abuzz around Anakin as it always was, but the too-white light of the room seemed to shift. Perhaps the solemnity he felt calmed the atmosphere.

"To yourself," he said softly.

He wished Anakin would dispute his assertion, but his partner turned away instead. He fussed at the control panel, growling at the lack of data. He rapped his fingertips on the dash as he tried to think of what to try next before abruptly stopping, gaze fixed on his right hand.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked.

"The kyber crystal was fixed into my lightsaber. Even when they're turned off, they form a circuit, creating a small charge of energy and cycling it through the focusing matrix. That's why the crystal didn't absorb energy from the, ah, big crystal."

Obi-Wan nodded. That seemed like a sensible enough explanation, though it also seemed like something Anakin could have reasoned out well in advance of disemboweling his lightsaber.

"But that's not how all power units work. Some are more receptive. For example," Anakin stretched his mechanoarm out, turning it back and forth, "my arm actually has a very small power cell, just enough to kick start the servos. From there, it actually stores the kinetic energy generated by each movement, fueling the next one."

"It'd be rather poor design if it could suddenly lose power from overuse," Obi-Wan agreed.

"Exactly. It's supposed to be self-sustaining. But that means that the power cell is more of a storage unit than it is an energy source."

Obi-Wan knew where this was going.

"You would like to tear yourself apart to see if the power cell has record of the crystal's energy signature."

He could not decide if this was better or worse than what Anakin had already done to his lightsaber. They were objects equally of Anakin, after all. The lightsaber represented not only an extension of himself, his status as a Jedi, but a kind of sacrament. But at the same time, Anakin was looking at his arm as if it was a thing, of value only inasmuch as it had use, and of no particular worth beyond that.

Obi-Wan had often called for Anakin to think more dispassionately, even of himself, but he did not like the timbre of the Force around Anakin. It was chilly.

"I think I shall leave you to it, then," Obi-Wan said as he edged toward the door. Anakin had stripped off his padded leather glove and taken up tools, one held in his mouth. "And Anakin?"

His partner turned, expression placid for the first time in months. He raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Do try to keep your liaisons to yourself from now on."

The flash of anger that drove away the Jedi calm on Anakin's face was disconcertingly satisfying.

***

Mace Windu did not look impressed by the holos Anakin had prepared of his findings. Obi-Wan felt his temper flare through their thinned Forcebond and reached out to put a restraining hand on Anakin's forearm. He shot Obi-Wan a look of pure animosity, but at least that meant it wasn't directed toward a Council Member actually sitting in review of their mission.

"It's a kyber crystal," Mace concluded, as if he had not asked for the analysis himself.

"An extraordinarily large one," Obi-Wan said.

Mace did not actually roll his eyes. He would never comport himself that way.

"Of where they got it, you found no clue?" Master Yoda asked.

Anakin tensed as if it was an accusation and Obi-Wan found himself sending Anakin calming energy in the Force, reopening their link before he could think the matter over. He was hit immediately by a wall of unpleasant feelings and winced against the flood. At least it's not inappropriate emotion, he thought distantly.

"No, Master," Anakin said. He scuffed his toe into the tile floor. "The Sugi did not have records in their ship databanks."

Obi-Wan sent him a questioning look, wondering precisely when Anakin even had the chance to look, but Anakin avoided his eyes and his sense in the Force. Or more precisely, everything he was feeling just battered down any attempt from Obi-Wan to push back or seek an answer.

"We would know if ones such as they had violated the sanctity of Ilum," Ki-Adi-Mundi said.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips ruefully. He wished that were true, but the Jedi's connection to the Force was so often clouded, their sense of what they considered their realm was nearly as difficult to keep abreast of as the future as it fluctuated in turmoil. They did have monitoring devices, but that was hardly the same.

"There are other means of procuring kyber crystals," Obi-Wan said, finger rubbing over his mustache. "Sadly outside our purview."

"And even those within we do not have full control of," Mace said grumpily. Obi-Wan was glad he'd broached the point rather than forcing Obi-Wan to.

The Council sat in silence for a moment as everyone considered the difficulty of reapportioning security personnel to station on Ilum. It had never been necessary in the past and now, when the gravest threats were leveled at Jedi and, in particularly, Jedi children, it seemed they had none to spare for their own protection. The Senate would likely not let them take any off the front lines merely to safeguard their sacred spaces.

"A crystal of that size…" Ki-Adi-Mundi started, "Surely it would be entirely uncommon."

The Council nodded in agreement, ignoring for the moment the implication of anyone invading Ilum unbeknownst to the Jedi.

"Statistically –"

Obi-Wan made a hushing motion to Anakin and he broke off, dark expression on his face.

"Sure. Uncommon."

They'd actually run the model themselves on the return trip from Utapau, using old geological survey information of Ilum and estimate of kyber crystal depletion. Punchy from the battle, Anakin had greeted the news that large deposits of outsized crystals likely did still exist on Ilum, deep in the crust, with a kind of enthusiasm for disaster that Obi-Wan generally did not like to encourage, but nonetheless could admit to finding somewhat charming – in an untoward and inappropriate sort of way.

At the moment, Anakin seemed far less happy about the prospect of Ilum being secretly mined by their enemies for weaponry. Funny, that.

"It is unfortunate that you were unable to capture the crystal," Mace said contemplatively. Obi-Wan eyed him, wondering if they were ever going to be off the hook for waking him up the evening before. "We may never know what plans Grievous had for it."

"Not Grievous. The work of the Sith Lord, this is. Better in the end that destroyed this crystal was," Yoda intoned.

Obi-Wan felt a chill at his words. He and Anakin had witnessed the power of the crystal, seen that it was easily harnessed by any comers without any particular insight into the Force. Yet in the hands of the Sith, the danger seemed that much more prominent.

This entire mission smacked of blasphemy and Obi-Wan found it entirely disquieting. From the murder of a Jedi to the desecration of a kyber crystal – not to mention Anakin's blithe efforts of the same toward his own lightsaber – it seemed like an ominous and sudden shift in the character of the war. He'd known Dooku was a Sith Lord for some time, but it had almost seemed more a religious dispute with the Order than an existential threat. Until now.

He looked over to Anakin, surveying the odd kind of calm that had settled on him. He could feel Anakin's emotions seething underneath, coursing through his own veins given the flimsy barrier between them, but not intuit any meaning.

Fighting the Sith was the destiny of the Chosen One. He wondered how much longer they had before it was at hand.

"I've never seen or heard of a kyber crystal like this one," Obi-Wan started slowly, eyes moving to the old master. "Was the Council aware of their existence?"

"Master Yoda?" Mace asked.

Yoda's words confirmed several of Obi-Wan's suspicions: "Out of the stories of old, this crystal comes. Long ago, in forgotten times, when the Sith and Jedi fought for control of the galaxy…. Weapons there were of unimaginable power. Always at their heart, a kyber crystal was, just like the one you describe."

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin's pulse, driving and wild. He looked sharply to Yoda.

"You're speaking of children's stories. Fairy tales," Anakin said.

Yoda spoke of history and prophecy, but Obi-Wan would correct Anakin on that point later. He knew his partner was aware of the different, antagonistic as he often was about his own destiny.

"In legends, we often find great truths, Skywalker. A warning, this is. Power the Sith Lord has become, with great designs for our destruction. If find one of these crystals he can, another he will seek."

"But we won't let him find one," Anakin said. He raised his arm, fist clenching at the declaration.

Ki-Adi-Mundi shared a look with Plo Koon. Obi-Wan shook his head to them. He would speak with Anakin, disabuse him of notions that he had a new mission. Even so, he was concerned. The fatalism from the Council was worrying, unless they truly did not believe that the kyber crystals were common enough that guards should be posted on Ilum.

"Perhaps we should consider informing the Senate," he said.

Since Ahsoka's trial, the Jedi and the Senate had engaged in a silent, very cold détente. Neither was willing to strike at the other side to accuse them of misconduct, but nor were they even approaching a basic, functional work relationship. Telling the Senate of the crystal might begin a true rapprochement.

"No," Mace replied flatly. "This is a Jedi matter and, as the crystal was destroyed, of no relevance to the larger war effort."

"But –"

Anakin was immediately cut off.

"Discuss this in session, we will," Master Yoda stated. His large, green eyes narrowed at Anakin. "For your report, we thank you, Jedi Skywalker."

Anakin worked his jaw, pushing down his response. He bowed stiffly and turned to stalk out of the Council Chambers. Obi-Wan watched him go, hands tucked into his sleeves, before making a snap decision.

"I too shall take my leave, I think," he angled a jaunty smile toward Master Windu. "I think I could do with some rest before we meet again. I do get so snappish when I don't sleep."

Obi-Wan caught up to Anakin only after running the length of a corridor and gesturing to a flock of confused Padawans to block Anakin's path. It was enough of a delay for Obi-Wan to corner Anakin just outside his quarters.

It did not seem as though Anakin had noticed the small pile of broken droids outside his door. He'd not been back to his quarters once since arriving at the Temple and even now, seemed indifferent. Obi-Wan felt an absurd pang at the thought, made even more ridiculous by the fact that some of his consideration was for the droids rather than Anakin.

"What now?" Anakin asked, rolling his eyes as he looked down at Obi-Wan.

"Now we discuss your behavior," Obi-Wan said tersely. "And how better to behave like a Jedi instead of an ill-mannered child throwing a psychic temper tantrum."

Anakin leaned back against his door, arms crossed. It was not exactly the vicious crack of anger that Obi-Wan had expected, though his shields remained low; it was only Obi-Wan's own that kept back Anakin's cresting emotions.

"Tantrum? Oh, this I have to hear. How exactly have I been 'throwing a tantrum', Master? I haven't even been in the Temple half a day! And I was working the entire time!"

Obi-Wan plunged back through his memories of the evening before and that was all it took. He didn't even have to send them to Anakin in any sense of the word. He lowered his shields a fraction and watched as Anakin's cheeks flushed red, the sensation of a woman's thighs wrapping around his waist foremost in his mind. Obi-Wan let it linger, watching as Anakin's lips parted, and then switched to the even more salacious feeling he'd fought so hard against the night before: sexual stimulation itself, wet and tight around his own hard dick.

Anakin groaned and pressed his hand to his forehead.

"Alright! I get it!"

"Do you?" Obi-Wan asked. He stood against his own door, more than a meter away from Anakin. The light between them was bright, cutting through the heady, nightbound feelings that they'd shared – that Obi-Wan was determined to continue to share until Anakin got the point. The material of his trousers brushed against his cock as he shifted on his feet, his eyes drawn to Anakin's own obvious arousal. "Because I honestly can't explain why you would have done this if you did get it, Anakin."

Anakin tilted his head to the side, glaring. At least he wasn't pretending to be confused.

"Maybe I just thought you'd like a show," he said.

It wasn't even a funny joke. Anakin had never acted out in such a manner before.

"Or maybe you couldn't stop yourself," Obi-Wan said.

His eyes raked over Anakin's form, lingering on his erection. Anakin moved his hand, caving to the desire to touch himself through his clothes just as Obi-Wan focused on his own memory of the night before – hand pressed to cold tile, gasping under cold water as he worked his own dick. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, pinning Anakin's hand against the wall to stop him. Anakin's eyes flew wide, shock dispelling his anger for the moment.

"You have done little more than pout and rage this entire mission. It's obviously done for my attention, and yet that itself doesn't quell it. You flee my company for Amidala and refuse to speak to me, Anakin.

"I'm weary of your sulking. You will control yourself from here on out and if you decide to put in a plea for help, I'd request that it actually be verbal in nature."

Anakin was breathing rapidly, chest moving in great, heaving movements that for a moment seemed to be precursors to sobs. Obi-Wan pushed away from his door at the thought, only to stop short as Anakin's laugh, unhappy and unpleasant as it was, cut through him.

"A plea for help?" He wiped at his eyes, as if at mirthful tears, with his free hand before gesturing downward. "Seriously? You think this is a cry for help?"

"Well. Perhaps."

Anakin waggled his eyebrows.

"A certain kind of help."

Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. It really was not funny and Anakin's behavior really was beyond the pale – morally questionable in addition to simply being suspect with regards to what a Jedi's control should be like.

He stepped closer, within arm's reach. Even without the threadbare control Anakin was keeping on his thoughts, he'd be in Anakin's psychic space.

"Why?"

The simple question seemed to stymie Anakin. He dropped his free hand back to his side and balled it, rapping it lightly against his door as he struggled for some kind of answer. His mouth twisted unhappily as he stared back at Obi-Wan, the psychic space between them roiling with anger and arousal.

"Because I don't want to be around you," Anakin said eventually. Obi-Wan blinked in surprise, back aback. The words flooded out of Anakin after that. "Because I can't stand being here half the time. Because all I want is my Padawan back. Because Padme is the only one who even half way cares. Because I need her. Because you can't and won't ever be there for me that way.

"Because I'm fucking angry with you. Because I disappointed you and I always will and you don't even see it. Because you need to feel everything I am right now."

"Well. That's –"

Appalling was the word that came to mind. He thankfully didn't have to use it as Anakin surged forward, breaking from Obi-Wan's lax Force pin, pulling Obi-Wan into a harsh kiss.

"Get it now?" Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan moved his hands into Anakin's hair, kissing him back as they stumbled into Obi-Wan's door. He reached out with the Force to slap the controls and it the door opened all too swiftly. He nearly fell, caught only by Anakin's arm around his waist – which quickly turned to a hand on his ass.

"I don't think that I do," Obi-Wan confessed. It was only half a lie. Anakin couldn't possibly mean he needed Padme Amidala. Violation of the Code that it was, he had to need his Padawan. That was what it had to be, for all their sakes. He kissed Anakin, breath coming uneasily to him. "I think you'll have to show me."

Anakin started to maneuver him toward the bed and Obi-Wan stopped him. The light coming through the window was low, orange and not entirely flattering. It did no justice either to Anakin's beauty or his confusion.

"And you should show me on your knees, I think," Obi-Wan said. He placed both hands on Anakin's shoulders, pushing down until his former Padawan was kneeling on his floor, nose just inches away from Obi-Wan's tented trousers.

"You will help me understand by sharing everything you feel," Obi-Wan instructed. He felt hot, tunic sticking to the line of his back. Anakin looked amazing on his knees. He caught his breath before continuing, "And in return, you will follow my lead and you will learn control."

It was the first change in Anakin's Force presence Obi-Wan had felt in – dear skies, it must have been months. But Obi-Wan felt something like relief overcome the young man, himself reassured by what he sensed. At least he was doing something right, unconventional as it was.

But then, Anakin wasn't his Padawan anymore. He might need a little extra guidance, but he was most certainly a grown man and an accomplished Knight.

The almost grave feeling dissipated as soon as Anakin reached out to undo Obi-Wan's belt.

"Thank you," Anakin said snottily. "Master."

Obi-Wan placed a fond hand on his head and hushed him. He supposed that shortly, he'd be the one who owed thanks, but he was going to consider this compensation for his own sleepless night. As Anakin got to work, he decided there was one other person that deserved some kind of gratitude or apology.

He hissed out a long breath as Anakin closed his mouth around the tip of his dick, sucking hard. He peered up at Obi-Wan through his lashes, pleased at Obi-Wan's reaction to his amateur efforts.

Yes. He definitely owed Amidala something. But they'd deal with that later.