Good Manners
Author: _nisa_
Title: Good Manners
Challenge: SWMININANO3
Prompt: Padmé
Word Count: 1900
Characters: Padmé, Anakin/Obi-Wan
Rating: PG
Summary: Padmé throws a party.
Author's Notes: Beta'd by Deborah. Thank you very much! ♥
However hard he tried, Obi-Wan couldn’t take his eyes off Padmé as she danced gracefully, slender and straight, her long silky hair softly reflecting the light, a radiant smile never leaving her face, a small long-nailed hand resting on her partner’s shoulder. She was everything that Obi-Wan was not: young and fresh while he was old and worn, bright as sunshine while he was boring and bleak, an irresistibly beautiful woman while he was an aging wrinkled unattractive man. This contrast between them became starker with every passing minute and every new gulp of brandy until he couldn’t help but hopelessly nod when someone murmured behind his back: What a lovely couple!
Anakin and Padmé looked magnificent together.
It had been Senator Amidala's idea to host a party in the honor of our Jedi heroes. Anakin hadn’t shown any particular enthusiasm at that, but Obi-Wan had insisted it would have been improper to refuse, and now he was harvesting the fruit of his politeness.
From the moment they entered the vast hall of Padmé's apartment he could not recognize Anakin. Obi-Wan had long ago given up all hope to teach him good manners, but suddenly the young man was courtesy itself. He smiled sweetly at everyone, ate with a knife and a fork instead of using his fingers like he always did, engaged in small talk, and it took only a hint from the lovely hostess to make him immediately rise and ask her for a dance. And so they had been dancing for what felt to Obi-Wan like several hours, but Padmé never seemed tired and Anakin was eager to please. From time to time he glanced at his old Master, but Obi-Wan looked away before they could make eye contact. He realized too well that he was a mere obstacle now - and coward enough to read this truth in Anakin’s eyes.
Only a couple of days ago, with fire raging everywhere and the horrid smell of death all around, peace had seemed a distant and impossible dream, getting Anakin safe, seeing him relaxed and carefree had been the only thing that he was fervently wishing for. Now the dream came true - and suddenly the cruel reality was revealing itself in the light of suffocating aromatic candles richly adorning the room. Padmé, not him, was what Anakin really needed, all the rest being just an illusion created by an overload of stress, exhaustion, despair and the basic need for reassurance, for human contact in the heart of the constant danger and madness of war.
“And I remember you telling me once that the Jedi drink only water”, said Senator Organa with a smirk sitting down next to Obi-Wan. Then he frowned. “You don’t look well, my friend. What’s wrong?”
Obi-Wan made an enormous effort to look away from Padmé who was laughing at something Anakin had said, holding his hand for another dance, and stared at Bail with a pained expression on his face.
“What? No, Bail, I’m fine.” The other man seemed unconvinced so Obi-Wan added: “We returned from Saleucami only yesterday afternoon. Sleep was something of a luxury there, and I didn’t have much time to sleep here either.”
With all those endless reports to the Council this wasn’t even a lie. Bail clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder.
“I am sorry, Obi-Wan. Maybe this party wasn’t such a good idea after all. At least your Padawan seems to enjoy it! You should get some rest and then we’ll talk about serious matters.”
It didn’t even occur to Obi-Wan to ask what serious matters were, and Bail’s surprise at his lack of consideration remained completely unnoticed. Were he a better Jedi he would have never allowed himself to forget that attachment had to be forbidden, but it was too late for that, and there he was, heart-broken, drunk and completely lost in his misery.
“You are right, Bail,” he staggered to his feet. “I’d better go and get some rest.”
He stared for a moment at Anakin’s back, at Padmé’s smooth shoulders revealed by her fashionable dress and went to the door, hanging his head in dismay. Padmé’s voice resonated in the room like a silver bell. She was perfect - and he had never been good enough.
*
At first Anakin was annoyed: a stupid party with politicians was definitely not what he and his Master - especially his exhausted Master - needed just after their return from hell. He was about to unleash his irritation on Obi-Wan for having agreed to Senator Amidala’s invitation when a sharp pang of remorse stopped him. Only a day ago he was vehemently praying the Force to keep Obi-Wan safe, promising it everything he had, even his life - and now his wish was granted and he was getting mad at the man he loved for such a petty reason. He wouldn’t be ungrateful. He would be good, as could as he could possibly be.
Flying their speeder along Coruscanti skylanes to Padmé’s apartment, he tried his best to remember everything Obi-Wan had ever told him about etiquette or at least about what Obi-Wan considered appropriate behavior. It was not an easy task, given that he had usually paid no heed to his Master’s efforts in this matter, but at least he thought he knew the basics.
Obi-Wan seemed surprised to hear him meekly greet senator Orn Free Taa and praise Alderaani cheese he had always found disgusting, and Anakin hoped it was a pleasant surprise. Playing his part turned out not to be that hard after all, and when the hostess of the party said with a charming smile that she had always fancied dancing with a Jedi he knew what to do.
He didn’t know all the steps, but the Force easily guided him and Padmé was a good dancer. Staring down at her lovely face he kept answering her questions about life in the Jedi Temple, but couldn’t stop other scenarios playing in his head. He was imagining how Obi-Wan’s strong, but delicate hand would feel in his in the place of Padmé’s, how his familiar scent would envelop him instead of the exotic fragrance of her perfume and how they would very probably end up confusing the dance steps and falling into each other’s arms.
From time to time he glanced at Obi-Wan, but the other man kept stubbornly staring at Padmé and constantly avoided his eyes, bringing him back to the bitter reality. No one was to know, even to guess. Obi-Wan was so good at hiding, it was natural and right, and Anakin was just an overly romantic fool. Unable to fight down his frustration, but unwilling to get angry with his old Master yet again, Anakin turned his back on him and tried to get interested in what Padmé was telling him about Naboo. He didn’t have patience for more than a couple of minutes though, but when he looked again to where Obi-Wan had been sitting with Senator Organa he saw that the other man was gone.
*
Obi-Wan was staring gloomily at his datapad in a half-lit room when Anakin stormed into their quarters.
“What do you think you’re doing, Obi-Wan?” he said indignantly. “First taking me to that blasted party, then making me run after you like crazy? I’m sure your precious friends politicians are now thinking there’s been an emergency at the Temple!”
Obi-Wan shook his head without looking up.
“I’m just tired, Anakin, and you didn’t have to follow me. Beautiful nights like this one are too rare not to enjoy them, especially when there’s good company…”
Suddenly afraid to sound vulnerable and unwilling for Anakin to pity him, he did not finish his phrase and added in a tone of reprimand: “So you left without any explanation? How very rude of you!”
Now that was too much. No matter how hard he was trying to reign in his temper, at that moment Anakin gave up.
“For Sith’s sake, Obi-Wan,” he growled, pointing an accusing finger at the other man. “You are impossible to please! I’ve spent the whole fucking evening trying to do what you’ve been telling me for the last thirteen years, and that’s still not good enough!”
Obi-Wan managed a wretched smile at his outburst. “Please me? Have I been telling you to dance with Senator Amidala for the last thirteen years?”
This was supposed to sound light and ironic, but there was an edge to his voice. He blushed in embarrassment, put the datapad aside and stood up a little unsteadily.
“I’m really tired, Anakin,” he said quietly, looking sideways. “Please, just let me go and get some sleep.”
Anakin arched his eyebrows in surprise. There was something in the defeated and resigned expression on Obi-Wan’s face, in the way he had said Senator Amidala, that felt weird and wrong.
He grabbed both Obi-Wan’s hands and met his slightly unfocused gaze full of agony and confusion. The realization dawned on him and a surge of wild joy instantly chased away all of his anger. Obi-Wan was jealous and that meant that he considered Anakin something worth to be jealous about. The depth of his suffering equaled the depth of his love - and Obi-Wan was in such pain it made Anakin wince. An instant later, he was overcome with guilt to see the other man hurting so much because of him.
Wordlessly, he crushed Obi-Wan in an embrace and, as the other man made a weak attempt to withdraw, held him only tighter.
“You are such a fool, do you know that?” he murmured urgently, pressing his mouth to the shell of Obi-Wan’s ear and inhaling the smell of brandy. “There’s only you. There’ll always be only you because you’re the only one I’ll ever love and want and need.”
There was no questioning Anakin’s honesty. Obi-Wan didn’t reply, suddenly feeling stupid, ashamed, unworthy and blindingly happy. Anakin sensed the change in his mood and smiled.
“I thought you’d appreciate my… polite behavior, but now it seems we’ll have to find a better way to please you,” he whispered, burying his face into Obi-Wan’s hair, then added with a growl: “But to hell with good manners, and don’t you ever dare to comment on my eating habits again!”
“Your eating habits have nothing to do with all that,” Obi-Wan was dizzy with relief and weak in the knees, but made a last attempt to sound like a dignified Jedi Master. “They’re not healthy and utterly…”
“Uncivilized, yeah.”
Obi-Wan might have added something else, but was impatiently silenced by a kiss and didn’t mind it at all.
*
At first Padmé was excited to see flowers brought to her in the morning from the Jedi Temple, but when she saw the signature on the note she bit her lip. Obi-Wan was thanking her for the party with perfect courtesy, apologizing for his and Anakin’s rushed departure. Had she seen the content and slightly guilty smile that was playing on his lips when he wrote thank you for the wonderful night she would have probably gotten more upset, but she only sighed in frustration. The Jedi were men of handsome manners and heroes of the Republic, but yet too distant and unapproachable even when they were out of the walls of their mysterious Temple.
Next time, Padmé thought, she’d invite Senator Clovis when he’s back on Coruscant.
Title: Good Manners
Challenge: SWMININANO3
Prompt: Padmé
Word Count: 1900
Characters: Padmé, Anakin/Obi-Wan
Rating: PG
Summary: Padmé throws a party.
Author's Notes: Beta'd by Deborah. Thank you very much! ♥
However hard he tried, Obi-Wan couldn’t take his eyes off Padmé as she danced gracefully, slender and straight, her long silky hair softly reflecting the light, a radiant smile never leaving her face, a small long-nailed hand resting on her partner’s shoulder. She was everything that Obi-Wan was not: young and fresh while he was old and worn, bright as sunshine while he was boring and bleak, an irresistibly beautiful woman while he was an aging wrinkled unattractive man. This contrast between them became starker with every passing minute and every new gulp of brandy until he couldn’t help but hopelessly nod when someone murmured behind his back: What a lovely couple!
Anakin and Padmé looked magnificent together.
It had been Senator Amidala's idea to host a party in the honor of our Jedi heroes. Anakin hadn’t shown any particular enthusiasm at that, but Obi-Wan had insisted it would have been improper to refuse, and now he was harvesting the fruit of his politeness.
From the moment they entered the vast hall of Padmé's apartment he could not recognize Anakin. Obi-Wan had long ago given up all hope to teach him good manners, but suddenly the young man was courtesy itself. He smiled sweetly at everyone, ate with a knife and a fork instead of using his fingers like he always did, engaged in small talk, and it took only a hint from the lovely hostess to make him immediately rise and ask her for a dance. And so they had been dancing for what felt to Obi-Wan like several hours, but Padmé never seemed tired and Anakin was eager to please. From time to time he glanced at his old Master, but Obi-Wan looked away before they could make eye contact. He realized too well that he was a mere obstacle now - and coward enough to read this truth in Anakin’s eyes.
Only a couple of days ago, with fire raging everywhere and the horrid smell of death all around, peace had seemed a distant and impossible dream, getting Anakin safe, seeing him relaxed and carefree had been the only thing that he was fervently wishing for. Now the dream came true - and suddenly the cruel reality was revealing itself in the light of suffocating aromatic candles richly adorning the room. Padmé, not him, was what Anakin really needed, all the rest being just an illusion created by an overload of stress, exhaustion, despair and the basic need for reassurance, for human contact in the heart of the constant danger and madness of war.
“And I remember you telling me once that the Jedi drink only water”, said Senator Organa with a smirk sitting down next to Obi-Wan. Then he frowned. “You don’t look well, my friend. What’s wrong?”
Obi-Wan made an enormous effort to look away from Padmé who was laughing at something Anakin had said, holding his hand for another dance, and stared at Bail with a pained expression on his face.
“What? No, Bail, I’m fine.” The other man seemed unconvinced so Obi-Wan added: “We returned from Saleucami only yesterday afternoon. Sleep was something of a luxury there, and I didn’t have much time to sleep here either.”
With all those endless reports to the Council this wasn’t even a lie. Bail clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder.
“I am sorry, Obi-Wan. Maybe this party wasn’t such a good idea after all. At least your Padawan seems to enjoy it! You should get some rest and then we’ll talk about serious matters.”
It didn’t even occur to Obi-Wan to ask what serious matters were, and Bail’s surprise at his lack of consideration remained completely unnoticed. Were he a better Jedi he would have never allowed himself to forget that attachment had to be forbidden, but it was too late for that, and there he was, heart-broken, drunk and completely lost in his misery.
“You are right, Bail,” he staggered to his feet. “I’d better go and get some rest.”
He stared for a moment at Anakin’s back, at Padmé’s smooth shoulders revealed by her fashionable dress and went to the door, hanging his head in dismay. Padmé’s voice resonated in the room like a silver bell. She was perfect - and he had never been good enough.
*
At first Anakin was annoyed: a stupid party with politicians was definitely not what he and his Master - especially his exhausted Master - needed just after their return from hell. He was about to unleash his irritation on Obi-Wan for having agreed to Senator Amidala’s invitation when a sharp pang of remorse stopped him. Only a day ago he was vehemently praying the Force to keep Obi-Wan safe, promising it everything he had, even his life - and now his wish was granted and he was getting mad at the man he loved for such a petty reason. He wouldn’t be ungrateful. He would be good, as could as he could possibly be.
Flying their speeder along Coruscanti skylanes to Padmé’s apartment, he tried his best to remember everything Obi-Wan had ever told him about etiquette or at least about what Obi-Wan considered appropriate behavior. It was not an easy task, given that he had usually paid no heed to his Master’s efforts in this matter, but at least he thought he knew the basics.
Obi-Wan seemed surprised to hear him meekly greet senator Orn Free Taa and praise Alderaani cheese he had always found disgusting, and Anakin hoped it was a pleasant surprise. Playing his part turned out not to be that hard after all, and when the hostess of the party said with a charming smile that she had always fancied dancing with a Jedi he knew what to do.
He didn’t know all the steps, but the Force easily guided him and Padmé was a good dancer. Staring down at her lovely face he kept answering her questions about life in the Jedi Temple, but couldn’t stop other scenarios playing in his head. He was imagining how Obi-Wan’s strong, but delicate hand would feel in his in the place of Padmé’s, how his familiar scent would envelop him instead of the exotic fragrance of her perfume and how they would very probably end up confusing the dance steps and falling into each other’s arms.
From time to time he glanced at Obi-Wan, but the other man kept stubbornly staring at Padmé and constantly avoided his eyes, bringing him back to the bitter reality. No one was to know, even to guess. Obi-Wan was so good at hiding, it was natural and right, and Anakin was just an overly romantic fool. Unable to fight down his frustration, but unwilling to get angry with his old Master yet again, Anakin turned his back on him and tried to get interested in what Padmé was telling him about Naboo. He didn’t have patience for more than a couple of minutes though, but when he looked again to where Obi-Wan had been sitting with Senator Organa he saw that the other man was gone.
*
Obi-Wan was staring gloomily at his datapad in a half-lit room when Anakin stormed into their quarters.
“What do you think you’re doing, Obi-Wan?” he said indignantly. “First taking me to that blasted party, then making me run after you like crazy? I’m sure your precious friends politicians are now thinking there’s been an emergency at the Temple!”
Obi-Wan shook his head without looking up.
“I’m just tired, Anakin, and you didn’t have to follow me. Beautiful nights like this one are too rare not to enjoy them, especially when there’s good company…”
Suddenly afraid to sound vulnerable and unwilling for Anakin to pity him, he did not finish his phrase and added in a tone of reprimand: “So you left without any explanation? How very rude of you!”
Now that was too much. No matter how hard he was trying to reign in his temper, at that moment Anakin gave up.
“For Sith’s sake, Obi-Wan,” he growled, pointing an accusing finger at the other man. “You are impossible to please! I’ve spent the whole fucking evening trying to do what you’ve been telling me for the last thirteen years, and that’s still not good enough!”
Obi-Wan managed a wretched smile at his outburst. “Please me? Have I been telling you to dance with Senator Amidala for the last thirteen years?”
This was supposed to sound light and ironic, but there was an edge to his voice. He blushed in embarrassment, put the datapad aside and stood up a little unsteadily.
“I’m really tired, Anakin,” he said quietly, looking sideways. “Please, just let me go and get some sleep.”
Anakin arched his eyebrows in surprise. There was something in the defeated and resigned expression on Obi-Wan’s face, in the way he had said Senator Amidala, that felt weird and wrong.
He grabbed both Obi-Wan’s hands and met his slightly unfocused gaze full of agony and confusion. The realization dawned on him and a surge of wild joy instantly chased away all of his anger. Obi-Wan was jealous and that meant that he considered Anakin something worth to be jealous about. The depth of his suffering equaled the depth of his love - and Obi-Wan was in such pain it made Anakin wince. An instant later, he was overcome with guilt to see the other man hurting so much because of him.
Wordlessly, he crushed Obi-Wan in an embrace and, as the other man made a weak attempt to withdraw, held him only tighter.
“You are such a fool, do you know that?” he murmured urgently, pressing his mouth to the shell of Obi-Wan’s ear and inhaling the smell of brandy. “There’s only you. There’ll always be only you because you’re the only one I’ll ever love and want and need.”
There was no questioning Anakin’s honesty. Obi-Wan didn’t reply, suddenly feeling stupid, ashamed, unworthy and blindingly happy. Anakin sensed the change in his mood and smiled.
“I thought you’d appreciate my… polite behavior, but now it seems we’ll have to find a better way to please you,” he whispered, burying his face into Obi-Wan’s hair, then added with a growl: “But to hell with good manners, and don’t you ever dare to comment on my eating habits again!”
“Your eating habits have nothing to do with all that,” Obi-Wan was dizzy with relief and weak in the knees, but made a last attempt to sound like a dignified Jedi Master. “They’re not healthy and utterly…”
“Uncivilized, yeah.”
Obi-Wan might have added something else, but was impatiently silenced by a kiss and didn’t mind it at all.
*
At first Padmé was excited to see flowers brought to her in the morning from the Jedi Temple, but when she saw the signature on the note she bit her lip. Obi-Wan was thanking her for the party with perfect courtesy, apologizing for his and Anakin’s rushed departure. Had she seen the content and slightly guilty smile that was playing on his lips when he wrote thank you for the wonderful night she would have probably gotten more upset, but she only sighed in frustration. The Jedi were men of handsome manners and heroes of the Republic, but yet too distant and unapproachable even when they were out of the walls of their mysterious Temple.
Next time, Padmé thought, she’d invite Senator Clovis when he’s back on Coruscant.