((Hi guys! I can only apologise profusely for this being so late. I'd planned to get it written ages ago, but I underestimated how hectic the holidays would be. Next update may not be super-quick, but should hopefully be a much smaller gap.))
There it was again. That settled it – Anakin really had been shooting him odd looks this past week. Exactly what that meant, it was difficult to tell, because they weren't one of the usual sorts of odd looks. No anger; no frustration; no vague disbelief that Obi-Wan genuinely didn't understand some particularly convoluted explanation of why Ben Quadinaros' chances were improved by the latest alterations to his pod's power-couplings.
In fact, if it was anyone else giving him that look, Obi-Wan would be tempted to call it worried. But that couldn't be right. Anakin's idea of worry tended to manifest as a rather vicious protective streak; not pained sideways glances when he thought no-one was looking.
“I'm not about to keel over, you know,” he said, archly.
Anakin startled, almost knocking a rogue biscuit-tin off the console with the sudden motion.
“What do you mean, Master?”
“You keep staring at me as though you expect me to drop dead any second, Anakin. The last I checked, pregnancy isn't generally considered a fatal condition in humans.”
“What? No. I mean, yes, I know, but...” Anakin dropped his gaze and hunched his shoulders awkwardly. “I'm sorry, Obi-Wan.”
“I'm not angry, Anakin. Really.” Obi-Wan grinned apologetically by way of proof. “It seems my recent difficulty meditating got the better of me for a moment. What I meant to say was that you seem troubled. What's wrong?”
“Nothing?” Anakin probably hadn't meant it to be a question, but it fell a long way short of being a statement, and Obi-Wan felt fully justified in employing the unconvinced expression he'd learnt from Qui-Gon's example as a padawan.
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When the third knock on the chart-room hatch went unanswered, Rex took a moment to steel himself for fireworks; then entered uninvited. Technically, such an action was against protocol, but General Kenobi's assigned half-shift was over, and all hands were under standing orders from Medbay to prevent him putting in extra hours. The General did not have a history of 'going quietly'.
Somewhat to Rex's surprise, nobody tried to reprimand him for coming in. Admittedly, the reason for that was fairly obvious – General Kenobi was far too busy aiming a judgemental eyebrow at General Skywalker to even notice Rex, and General Skywalker seemed quite preoccupied with a somewhat ineffectual attempt to blend into the paintwork.
Having been in General Skywalker's position before, Rex really couldn't blame the man.
“If you're going to lie to me, Anakin, you might at least make it convincing.”
General Kenobi didn't sound angry, exactly, but his tone was seguing into 'commanding officer' territory. Not the best sign. It crossed Rex's mind, briefly, that it might be better to come back in ten minutes or so.
“Obi-Wan, you know I would never –”
“Anakin.”
Oh dear. Definitely better to come back later. Not, of course, that Rex had the option, unless he wanted to face the combined wrath of the medics.
He cleared his throat cautiously.
“I'm telling you, Master, it's nothing.”
...And General Skywalker had made the transition from placatory to confrontational. Fabulous. Rex sent a silent prayer to the first three deities that came to mind; then cleared his throat again, a little louder.
Stillness reigned, briefly, over the chart-room.
After one last stern look at his former padawan, General Kenobi turned to Rex with a rather more approachable expression. “Was there something you wanted, Captain?”
Rex tapped his wrist chrono and smiled apologetically.
“Ah,” said the General, “Yes, thank you for the reminder, Captain.” He turned back to General Skywalker. “We'll speak later, Anakin.”
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Anakin watched Obi-Wan leave with a frustrated scowl. Kriff, that hadn't gone the way he'd wanted it to. He had a sneaking suspicion that when he turned to look, that little concerned furrow would be present on Rex's brow.
[FILL] The Youngling (7/?)
There it was again. That settled it – Anakin really had been shooting him odd looks this past week. Exactly what that meant, it was difficult to tell, because they weren't one of the usual sorts of odd looks. No anger; no frustration; no vague disbelief that Obi-Wan genuinely didn't understand some particularly convoluted explanation of why Ben Quadinaros' chances were improved by the latest alterations to his pod's power-couplings.
In fact, if it was anyone else giving him that look, Obi-Wan would be tempted to call it worried. But that couldn't be right. Anakin's idea of worry tended to manifest as a rather vicious protective streak; not pained sideways glances when he thought no-one was looking.
“I'm not about to keel over, you know,” he said, archly.
Anakin startled, almost knocking a rogue biscuit-tin off the console with the sudden motion.
“What do you mean, Master?”
“You keep staring at me as though you expect me to drop dead any second, Anakin. The last I checked, pregnancy isn't generally considered a fatal condition in humans.”
“What? No. I mean, yes, I know, but...” Anakin dropped his gaze and hunched his shoulders awkwardly. “I'm sorry, Obi-Wan.”
“I'm not angry, Anakin. Really.” Obi-Wan grinned apologetically by way of proof. “It seems my recent difficulty meditating got the better of me for a moment. What I meant to say was that you seem troubled. What's wrong?”
“Nothing?” Anakin probably hadn't meant it to be a question, but it fell a long way short of being a statement, and Obi-Wan felt fully justified in employing the unconvinced expression he'd learnt from Qui-Gon's example as a padawan.
--------------------
When the third knock on the chart-room hatch went unanswered, Rex took a moment to steel himself for fireworks; then entered uninvited. Technically, such an action was against protocol, but General Kenobi's assigned half-shift was over, and all hands were under standing orders from Medbay to prevent him putting in extra hours. The General did not have a history of 'going quietly'.
Somewhat to Rex's surprise, nobody tried to reprimand him for coming in. Admittedly, the reason for that was fairly obvious – General Kenobi was far too busy aiming a judgemental eyebrow at General Skywalker to even notice Rex, and General Skywalker seemed quite preoccupied with a somewhat ineffectual attempt to blend into the paintwork.
Having been in General Skywalker's position before, Rex really couldn't blame the man.
“If you're going to lie to me, Anakin, you might at least make it convincing.”
General Kenobi didn't sound angry, exactly, but his tone was seguing into 'commanding officer' territory. Not the best sign. It crossed Rex's mind, briefly, that it might be better to come back in ten minutes or so.
“Obi-Wan, you know I would never –”
“Anakin.”
Oh dear. Definitely better to come back later. Not, of course, that Rex had the option, unless he wanted to face the combined wrath of the medics.
He cleared his throat cautiously.
“I'm telling you, Master, it's nothing.”
...And General Skywalker had made the transition from placatory to confrontational. Fabulous. Rex sent a silent prayer to the first three deities that came to mind; then cleared his throat again, a little louder.
Stillness reigned, briefly, over the chart-room.
After one last stern look at his former padawan, General Kenobi turned to Rex with a rather more approachable expression. “Was there something you wanted, Captain?”
Rex tapped his wrist chrono and smiled apologetically.
“Ah,” said the General, “Yes, thank you for the reminder, Captain.” He turned back to General Skywalker. “We'll speak later, Anakin.”
--------------------
Anakin watched Obi-Wan leave with a frustrated scowl. Kriff, that hadn't gone the way he'd wanted it to. He had a sneaking suspicion that when he turned to look, that little concerned furrow would be present on Rex's brow.
Yes, there it was. Wonderful.