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As soon as Anakin stepped into the foyer, he could hear his brother's voice echoing from one of the larger lecture halls. He half smiled. It was too easy. He stood just outside the open door, half hidden, watching Obi-Wan at the front of the room. The room was darkened, so he just waited for Obi-Wan to look up at the projection once more before he ducked into a seat near the back. Two seats down, someone scoffed at him.
Anakin's heart was pounding, he tried to slump inconspicuously in his seat, no idea what the video was talking about but feeling as though it were winding down. If he knew the schedule right, there was only about fifteen minutes left in Obi-Wan's class before his break. Playback stopped.
"Light's please," Obi-Wan said, getting up from where he'd been sitting.
"Some of you disagreed vehemently with Otto's assertion in this week's forum post. Can you think of someone else we've read this semester who would have disagreed with her?"
There was awkward shifting in the seats but no one raised a hand. A rough headcount told Anakin it was close to eighty students in here, but that was only those who showed up.
"All the way at the beginning of the semester," Obi-Wan prompted, somehow not sounding as weary as Anakin thought he should.
It was odd. Obi-Wan had been growing his beard out for years by now, had cut his hair into a respectable style, making him seem so adult and mature. Here, in this room, he seemed attractive and sure of himself. Had Anakin been having this conversation with Obi-Wan over a carton of lo mein there would have been significantly more eye-rolling and sarcasm. But here, in this room, hearing his deep voice, feeling how patient he was… He was wearing a solid blue flannel shirt tucked into chinos with a brown belt; why did Anakin think he was so hot? Anakin shifted in his seat as well, the chair's creaking disguised amongst all the antsy students.
"Yes, Jace," Obi-Wan pointed to someone closer to the front.
"Aristotle?" they answered as though it were a question.
"From whom we read…"
"Poetics."
"Yes, thank you."
Anakin smiled.
~~~
Obi-Wan was reaching the point of the day when he thought his good manners were about to run out. He didn't see the point in being impatient however, especially with an early-morning, lower level class which was required for several majors. The students didn't care as long as they passed and Obi-Wan tried not to hinge his entire self-worth on teaching the next generation the importance of critical thinking. He could only do his best, be available, fair and flexible… The rest was up to the students, possibly his fellow lecturers, but he was now thinking the video presentation had been a mistake.
In front of him eight-three students sat in various stages of boredom or anxiety. Several of them had written firey responses to Otto's thesis, but none of them were speaking now, forcing him to reach back to the first week of class, unsure if anyone remembered that far back.
"Can anyone tell me why we care what Aristotle would have replied to Otto?"
"Because he's old," snarked someone from the far right.
"Ha. We do have a tendency to give the classics a lot of weight. But why is that? Or why Aristotle specifically?"
"Because he's assigned in every single lit class from here to Timbuktu," another student deadpanned. "Even if we don't care about him, half our classmates will know who he is and keep his stuff alive."
"Fair." Obi-Wan grinned. "But it's almost more sinister than that."
Near the back someone reached up a long arm and Obi-Wan pointed to them.
"Yes?"
"Because it's not just our classmates who keep his stuff alive," said the student.
Obi-Wan stepped further to the right, craning his neck as a zing went down his spine at the sound of that voice.
"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked, making eye-contact with Anakin who was slumped in his seat as though hiding.
"Well," Anakin sat up in his seat, "there was this renaissance of classical culture six hundred years ago and that kind of set the table for the next millennium to be as obsessed with Aristotle as Ancient Greece was. You go back to In Defense of Poetry and you can literally feel the guy vibrating in his skin to use words like catharsis to make his argument."
"In Defense of Poesy was published in the sixteenth century by Sir Philip Sidney, we don't read him in this class however."
"Yeah, but my point is that he's been in our culture for that long. Aristotle's three act structure is still the basis for all creative writing in the west. His ideas are so intrinsic that we don't even think of them as his ideas. We talk about realism the way he did, we focus on the audience's reaction by default when we begin analyzing anything."
"I think I see the beginnings of your point, Mr. Skywalker, but I'll need you to make it yourself."
Several heads turned to look at the interloper. Obi-Wan knew he didn't usually talk to students like this, didn't use their last names or even really challenge them. He crossed his arms self-consciously.
"Okay, what about Haraway?"
Obi-Wan nodded, feeling his face heat.
"So like, her Cyborg Manifesto has nothing to do with Aristotle on the surface, but the way she talks about machine and nature, isn't so different from how he talks about imitation and audience… They're both like 'troubling boundaries' or something."
From even this far away, Obi-Wan could recognize the intensity of Anakin's expression, followed the way he was gesturing with lazer focus. It was almost arousing to have his own arguments from months or even years prior come back to him. He hadn't always been sure his step-brother had been listening or even understood what he'd been saying when he'd gone off on a diatribe. He remembered recommending Haraway to Anakin, but that must have been years ago by now.
"For Haraway it's about how our world has made us all part machine, but for Aristotle it's about like… the audience becoming the characters. We don't talk so much about the artificial boundary between machines and nature, but we do think a lot about the artificial boundary between the audience and the creator, even if we don't call it that."
"Your point, then," Obi-Wan said, turning to walk back to the center of the classroom, trying to gain some semblance of sanity, "is that despite Haraway being a socialist feminist, she is evolving similar arguments to those that Aristotle made two thousand years before her time?"
"Yes," Anakin said, syllable ringing sharp in the quiet lecture hall.
"We are soaked in Aristotle, we don't even know where the boundary between us lies," Obi-Wan said, pausing a hairbreadth. "And Donna Haraway's A Manifesto for Cyborgs, published in 1985 is on our assigned reading list, so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the final paper is a compare and contrast of two critics whom we read and discuss this term. Have a good day, everyone."
Even before he'd finished speaking, there was creaking and rustling as students finished packing their bags and headed to the exits, all but one.
Obi-Wan packed up his own materials in a briefcase he'd been given last Christmas, focusing intently on putting the entire desk to rights, but ultimately had to look up. Anakin had a backpack, somewhat surprisingly, but otherwise was empty handed. He came down the stairs slowly and Obi-Wan suddenly realized he was breathing faster, his heart racing.
"Hey," Anakin said softly, when he was only a few steps away.
"Hey yourself," Obi-Wan replied, feeling his face get hot once more.
"You're really cool, you know that?"
Obi-Wan felt as though his mind were an empty hamster wheel. "Yeah?" he asked.
"Yeah." Anakin shrugged, dropping his backpack onto one of the chairs. "You're so patient with them. They're trying to bullshit your class but you aren't being the sarcastic asshole I know and love."
"Yes, well." Obi-Wan realized that Anakin was still slowly bridging the distance between them, the hamster wheel was squeaking as it swung back and forth to a standstill.
"You're so calm and mature. Standing up here looking like some catalog ad. I'm just saying… If I was in your classes, I definitely would have had a crush on you."
"You do have a crush on me," Obi-Wan said, surprised how cool he sounded.
"Lucky I'm not once of your students then," replied Anakin, voice low in his throat. He was close enough now to lay his hands on the desk behind Obi-Wan, bracketing him in with his arms, sliding one knee between his legs.
"Not here," Obi-Wan said. He could have leaned back, but he didn't, he let Anakin push against him, chest to chest, and curled one hand around Anakin's bicep to keep the illusion of protest.
"No ones here, are they?" Anakin whispered, his nose just brushing Obi-Wan's.
Obi-Wan glanced over Anakin's shoulder before confirming, "No," and ran his hand up Anakin's arm into his curls. He loved how silky his hair was when it got this long, he hadn't let himself notice before.
Anakin didn't kiss him, however, just hovered with his mouth against Obi-Wan's cheek, his breath almost ragged. It was so strange that they could be so caught up in one another, despite everything.
"I didn't realize you listened so closely to me," Obi-Wan murmured against the shell of Anakin's ear.
"Course," Anakin rasped. "I always listen."
"Nor that you read Haraway," Obi-Wan went on.
Anakin pulled back so he could scowl at Obi-Wan directly. "Why else do you think I went into bioengineering?"
"I had no idea." Obi-Wan felt stunned.
"Yeah," Anakin whispered, leaning in again, eyes on Obi-Wan's mouth. "I devoured that."
Obi-Wan's stomach dropped as he braced for a kiss, but then a familiar voice boomed into the echoing lecture hall, "OBK!"
"Fuck." Obi-Wan slide away along the table, swinging his briefcase into his lap while Anakin cocked one hip to lean against the table beside him.
"Yo, OB…"
It was a testament to Quinlan's tact that he hesitated slightly as he continued down the stairs. Anakin was still beside him, thigh pressed to his, arm braced behind his back, casual touching only but longed for contact all the same.
"I'm not interrupting, am I?" Quinlan asked as he came to equal level with them.
Obi-Wan was currently slightly strained in his briefs but, "No," he said, gesturing to Anakin, he continued, "this is my brother."
"Ah! Anakin right?" Quinlan lit up at that, reaching a hand out to Anakin who stepped away from the desk to shake his hand amiably. "I'm Quinlan. I was in the same grad program as OB."
"You teach here?" Anakin asked, crossing his arms but remaining standing.
"Teach is a nice word," Quinlan said and scoffed. "I'm doing some online only classes. Trying my best anyway. Almost makes me want to join the Dark Side." He glanced sidewise between the two brothers. "Obi-Wan and Anakin. Do you ever go by Ani?"
"Only my mother and my ex-girlfriend ever called me that," Anakin said a bit coolly.
"So, no?" Quinlan addressed the question to Obi-Wan who shook his head. "I came to pick up Obi-Wan for lunch. Tell me why I have office hours once a week when I don't even have an office? Bugging Obi-Wan is worth it though."
Quinlan winked at Obi-Wan but out of the corner of his eye he could see the smile on Anakin's face was shallow. He looked stiff and uncomfortable. Obi-Wan felt oddly certain it was his fault.
"Do you wanna come?" Quinlan asked Anakin. "Do you have somewhere to be?"
"Sorry, I can't do lunch today, Quinlan," Obi-Wan said, clapping his hand on Anakin's shoulder. "I forgot I made plans with Anakin."
"No sweat, I get it." Quinlan raised his hands in surrender. "Family first, right? But next week, okay? And you're welcome too if you're local, Anakin."
"Thanks," Anakin said, giving Quinlan an easy wave. "Nice to meet you!"
"Likewise," Quinlan said, grinning for a second before dropping it for utter sobriety. "Whatever's going on… I hope it turns out okay."
"Thank you, Quinlan," Obi-Wan said smoothly even as Anakin's shoulders tensed. "I'll see you next week."
With what seemed like two long strides, Quinlan was out the nearest side door into the lecture center proper. Obi-Wan waited for Anakin to make some comment, or to even look at him, but he just picked up his backpack and pulled it over his shoulder.
"He was in a hurry," Obi-Wan said, for lack of anything better to say.
"You think?" Anakin groused.
"What's wrong?" Obi-Wan reached for Anakin's sleeve, but he jerked away.
"Not here."
"Anakin…"
"I know this is new. I know this is complicated. But did you think for a second before you said I was your brother?" he hissed, his scowl thunderous.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan pleaded as quietly as he could, grabbing Anakin's sleeve and holding on, keeping him close as he slowly stepped toward him. "Quinlan knows your name. I've talked about you."
"I'm sorry." Anakin squeezed his eyes shut. "I shouldn't have come."
He tried to step away once more, but this time Obi-Wan grabbed his arm.
"This is fucking complicated," Anakin whispered.
Obi-Wan let his hand slip down Anakin's arm, until skin met skin, and he could hold Anakin's hand in his.
"You're worth it," Obi-Wan murmured, his heart aching.
Anakin glanced at him, something fragile glimmering in his eyes.
"And… I'm sorry as well." Obi-Wan said softly, thumb running across the skin on the back of Anakin's hand.
"I know," Anakin sighed, slumping a little. "No regrets, right?"
"No," Obi-Wan agreed, a faint smile twitching his lips, burgeoning hope within. "Did you have plans now? Have you had lunch? I know I said we had plans, but I don't want to presume…"
"Why else would I be here?"
Anakin looked at him as though Obi-Wan were his own personal beam of sunshine, and the clouds were finally parting. Anakin gave his hand a squeeze, and Obi-Wan's heart seemed to somersault.
"Lead the way," Anakin said.