She can almost feel the warm comfort of his hand over hers.
It's like he's here - right here, right with her on this ridiculous little sofa in the Senate, smiling politely from her opposite because it's still so far, what they want, and no one could ever know, not now. Padme can feel the heavy weight of her husband's gaze on her as she listens half-heartedly to one of her partners drone on about the production of machinery for the Republic. At least that's what she thinks they're talking about, if she's heard anything these past twenty minutes. She's much too distracted to pay any valuable attention.
And, really, she should feel guilty - she's a senator; listening to boring opinions on the occasional boring matter were a part of her daily life, something she committed herself to years and years ago, but she can't be blamed for her wayward thoughts. Soon - soon - she'll feel Anakin's arms around her again, after four gruesome months without anything other than her own hope. Sometimes, she wishes selfishly that she could have him back as soon as he leaves, but this is a war, and Anakin is a Jedi; she can't afford to think such childish things.
"Senator Amidala?" a hesitant voice wavers, and her eyes snap back to the discussion in reality. Bail Organa is looking at her with mild concern, and the other Senator from Force-knows-where is frozen mid-sentence beside him. The guilt finally starts to stir in Padme's gut. "You just seemed - out of it. In fact, you've been a little off all day. Is there something the matter?"
No, no, she wants to say. Everything is perfect. Because it will be, later, when Anakin sneaks into her chambers and she falls into his embrace and revel in his mere existence and their sheer, unwavering love for the first time in months. She sighs, giving her old friend a reassuring smile. "Nothing worthwhile, Bail. I should've gotten a bit more sleep last night, is all. I apologize for interrupting."
"It's quite alright. We've all been there, Padme." He smiles back gently. "Actually, we were just finishing up, so I suppose you're in luck. Weren't we, Senator Teem?" Bail winks at her, eyes warm and friendly and Padme feels a burst of gratitude for her lasting friend.
Ainlee Teem, who was seated diagonally from her, nods professionally, curtly. "Indeed, we were. Thank you for your time today, Senators. I like to think we have made some progress where these matters are placed today." He rises, smoothing out his clothing. "I hope you are able to get some rest, Senator Amidala. Good day."
When he disappears, Padme collapses back onto the couch in relief. She doesn't have a problem with Teem, but today she hardly has any room in her mind for anything other than her returning husband.
"The Jedi are returning today," Bail says conversationally, completely unaware of the way Padme's stomach turns over on itself at his words. "I heard they've been very successful - along with the help of the clones, of course. This war could be turning in our favor, after all."
"Oh?" she inquires, as if she hasn't been thinking of it all day. "Which Jedi are we expecting?"
"Actually, I believe you know them. Master Kenobi and Master Skywalker, along with Ahsoka Tano - Skywalker's padawan. They'll be arriving directly here - we'll know it all first." He smiles again, eyes twinkling.
Padme doesn't have to fake the smile that comes to her own lips.
The problem is, she's expected to be the one to greet the three Jedi, all diplomacy and strict, politician-induced professionalism. Which she can definitely do - in any circumstance, she tells herself, because she has to. If she forgets the acting part to her and Anakin's relationship, there'll be no hope at all for keeping it secret; subtlety has never been his forte.
So she does what she's usually best at - ignoring her own steaming emotions and let the political part of her mind take control. Padme smiles at Obi-Wan when he shakes her hand, says, "General Kenobi. It's wonderful to see you again." And it is. She really does like Obi-Wan. In fact - if she so dared - she might even call him a friend.
Obi-Wan smiles politely back. "Senator. I do hope you are doing well."
And beside him - beside him is Anakin. Padme's face is stone save for the small, courteous smile laced over her lips, but her mind races and her eyes do their best at inconspicuously scanning his towering height from head to toe. Anakin's hair is rumpled and brushes his jaw in careless curls - either the sun made it darker or maybe it's been too long, but the the curls look almost brown in color and her fingers itch to comb through them. His eyes are the same clear blue as she remembers - she could never forget his eyes, not as long as she lived - and sparkle like they always do when he's looking at her. She loves it when he looks at her. Dammit, she loves him.
She silently applauds how his expression barely changes at all - his eyes light up and his lips curl into a little smile that she wants to kiss, but to an outsider, it would look like a polite exchange between acquaintances. "General Skywalker," Padme says, holding his gaze for a second too long. "Good to see you alive and well."
"I was surprised too," a new voice chimes in, mischievous and lively. It's Ahsoka, of course - Anakin's padawan and someone Padme has found herself liking quite a lot. Her quick wit and effortless sarcasm match her master's to the point where it is nothing short of amusing, and nothing is quite as entertaining as watching the two bicker. "With the amount of reckless abandon he has on the battlefield, it's hard to see how he's still sauntering around here, don't you think?"
Padme laughs outright. "Ahsoka. I certainly have missed having you around." To keep him in line, she thinks, just because she knows he can hear her thoughts as if she is speaking them aloud. When she sneaks a look his way, he looks almost affronted.
"I don't saunter, Snips," he says quietly, shooting the younger girl a half-glare. He turns back to Padme, and she sees the look of mild irritation in his eyes tinged with fondness for the younger girl who is staring at him smugly. "Thanks for the warm welcome, Senator. We appreciate it."
Obi-Wan nods, looking sideways at the two beside him, looking almost exasperated as they continue to quietly argue. "We're always - er - unfailingly grateful for the kindness spared here." He seems to be trying to not let the quarreling of Anakin and Ahsoka deter his concentration, and his eyes flicker from Padme's face to his former apprentice's.
Padme hides another little grin. "We're always unfailingly happy to give it."
Force, she's missed him. It's hard to truly know how much until she's sitting on her bed and dismissing C-3PO's rapid fire of questions and - okay, yes, maybe it's ridiculous for all else that is happening outside her bedroom, but there's no reason why she shouldn't try to look nice. After all, it will be the first time she'll be able to see him and touch him and talk to him like she wants to in what feels like a lifetime. They've never had all the time in the world, but there's no reason she can't damn well pretend they do, if only just for tonight.
Now she stands on her balcony in nothing but her thin nightgown, and the chilly night air pricks goosebumps onto her skin and stirs her hair from her shoulders, but she's never been one to care much for the cold so she leans over the railing for a split second, just to see all the lights and how much prettier they look shrouded in darkness than bathed in daylight -
And then the door opens, and someone is tugging her into their arms before she has time to form a coherent thought of oh - oh, you're back. You're here, and maybe you'll have to leave again soon but that doesn't matter, not right now -
"Ani," she breathes against his neck, relishing the way her lips brush against his skin and make him shiver. "You're -" She pulls back just enough to see his face and all the familiar planes of his sharp jaw and brush her fingers in feather-light touches over his face and his eyelashes tickle her fingertips and she wishes she could memorize every part, every shadow, every color in his eyes. His eyes, the ones that look down to her with blinding adoration and happiness, the kind that makes her feel light and floaty.
His hands move from her waist to cup her face and his thumb brushes her chin, touches soft but desperate and expressive. "Padme," he says - just that, just her name, not Senator Amidala or milady but Padme, with his husky voice that she just loves too damn much.
And, really, kriff it. Kriff it all, because she finally has her husband in her arms after months of nothing and nothing. She grabs the back of his neck and a handful of his shirt, kissing him with all the fervor, all the longing of the time they've spent apart. He returns it, equally as desperate, winding his hands through her hair and pulling her impossibly closer, closer, and when they pull away they're both breathless and she kisses him again, sweet and soft and swift.
"You're back," she finally gets out. "Anakin, I was so -" Scared. Nervous. Lonely.
His heart is beating a frantic melody against her fingers, and she flattens her palm against his chest to feel it better. His smile is alight in the darkness. "I know," he whispers, taking her hand from his chest and bringing it to his mouth, kissing each fingertip and then the palm of her hand, lacing it through his own and squeezing.
She brushes his hair back from his eyes and then stroking the mess of strands at the back of his neck, kissing his jaw and squeezing her eyes shut. "I love you," she says into the night air, kissing him again, hard enough that their teeth brush together and the grip she has in his hair must be a little painful, but he lets out a little noise like a groan when she moves to kiss his neck, her lips a pattern against his skin, so it must not be horrible.
"I - I love you too. So - so much." He gasps when she nips at his collarbone, and she smiles against his skin. There's something thrilling about the things she can do him. At times like this, she has him at her mercy; him, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, panting and groaning under her - politician extraordinaire Padme Amidala. It sends satisfaction swirling through her in waves.
Anakin tugs at her wrists until their lips meet again, and now she can feel the smirk on his face when he kisses her and the desire lurking underneath the surface. "You know," he murmurs against her mouth, "we will have this whole luxurious bedroom of yours to ourselves for a few hours, at least." He pulls back and she's alive with the feeling of his electric eyes sparking her to the very core. She feels more awake than she has in weeks - months - years, and his smile tells her exactly what she needs to know.
"Actually . . ." Padme draws out, tugging his wrist and dragging him from the balcony and into the darkness of her room. "We have eight hours until I have to get up. At least."
Shameless fluff, basically. :) I hope you enjoyed.