Disclaimer: Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padme aren't mine.
"Teetotaling"
Notes: This fic is post-AOTC, but somewhat AU because Padme and Anakin aren't married and remain friends, though with hints of infatuation on Anakin's part.
Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker were walking down a Coruscant street when they heard a familiar female voice call out their names, making them turn in its owner's direction.
"Hey, Padmé!" Anakin said with a grin as the Senator hurried up to them.
"Senator Amidala," Obi-Wan greeted her with a nod.
"I'm glad I ran into you," she said. "I heard your last mission off-world was a success, and I wanted to congratulate you. In fact," she continued, "if you're both free, why don't we go celebrate?" She pointed to the entrance they were standing outside of. "After all, there's a cantina right here."
Before either of her two Jedi friends could refuse, she linked arms with them and walked into the crowded establishment while, over her head, Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged helpless glances with each other.
The three managed to seat themselves at a table, and a waitress came by to take their orders.
"A bottle of Nubian beer, please," Padmé ordered.
"Make that two," Anakin corrected, quickly warming up to having the opportunity to relax.
When Obi-Wan didn't say anything, Padmé looked over at him. "Obi-Wan? Don't you want anything to drink?"
"No thank you, Padmé."
"Oh, come on. We're celebrating." Before Obi-Wan could object, Padmé turned back to the waitress. "What would you recommend for my friend here?"
The waitress looked the obviously uncomfortable Obi-Wan over and made her pronouncement. "A shot of Corellian ale."
Padmé nodded. "Then Corellian ale it is. Thank you."
Once the waitress was gone, Obi-Wan said to his companions, "I won't be drinking anything tonight."
"Why not?" Padmé asked.
Anakin, however, had started to grin knowingly. "Didn't you know, Padmé?" he said in mock-seriousness. "My Master has a drinking problem."
Obi-Wan shot him a glare while Padmé looked between the two Jedi, wondering what Anakin had meant by his comment. Just as she was about to ask, however, the Padawan rose from his seat.
"Excuse me," he said. "I'll be right back. I just have to use the restroom." As soon as Skywalker had disappeared into the crowd, the Senator looked back to her remaining companion.
"What did he mean by that, about you having a drinking problem?"
Kenobi shook his head. "It's not what you think, but I don't wish to discuss it."
Their waitress returned and began setting their drinks down on the table.
Obi-Wan watched the waitress put his drink down, and then as he continued to look warily at the liquid that filled the shot glass, Padmé started to giggle.
Kenobi glanced up at her. "What is it?"
"You," she replied through her laughter. "You're staring at your drink like it's a monster. It's just a drink. If, as you assured me, you're not an alcoholic, then it can't hurt you."
"But—"
"Just take a sip. Nothing will happen."
Obi-Wan hesitated, and then he slowly lifted his glass to his lips and took a small sip of the ale.
Padmé smiled. "There. You see? You took a drink and nothing happ—ened!" The last part of her sentence became a squeal as a thick arm suddenly encircled itself around her neck, choking her from behind. A moment later, she felt the cold steel of a vibroblade under her jaw.
Suddenly finding herself a hostage, Padmé saw Obi-Wan rise to his feet in an instant, only to be stopped from doing anything else by the sound of a rough voice.
"Don't move!" the voice commanded. "You do anything else, and the girl dies. Got it?"
She could see Obi-Wan's jaw tense, the only indication of his fury. "I understand," he said in a voice that was not loud but was still able to be clearly heard over the activity in the cantina.
"Good." The criminal yanked Padmé to her feet, making her wince as he jerked her up with the arm that was under her chin. "Now, the little lady and I will just be on our way out of here and if you try to follow us—"
"Padmé!" someone suddenly shouted over the din. It was Anakin, returning from the restroom.
The sound of Skywalker's voice spurred Padmé into action. She elbowed the criminal in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him and making him loosen his chokehold on her.
That was enough for Obi-Wan to act.
There was a snap and a hiss and then the criminal was on the floor of the cantina, the arm that had been holding the vibroblade to Padmé's neck severed at the shoulder and lying next to him.
She stared at the criminal and his fatal wound and then looked over to see Obi-Wan standing with his lightsaber ignited. He met her gaze and then shut off his weapon and put it away as Anakin made it over to them.
"Are you okay, Padmé?" the apprentice asked.
She nodded, still a little dazed. "I'm fine."
"Anakin," Obi-Wan broke in, "escort the Senator back to her apartment. She shouldn't stay here any longer." His tone was void of emotion.
The younger man agreed whole-heartedly with his Master, and he used Padmé's dazedness to his advantage, steering her toward the club entrance before she regained her wits enough to object. When she walked by Obi-Wan on her way to the door, however, she glanced up at the older Jedi with a look of uncertainty. She looked like she wanted to say something to him, but then she was already past him and the moment was gone.
Now alone at the table, Obi-Wan stared down at the body of Padmé's attacker and sighed to himself. "This is why I try not to drink," he mumbled to no one in particular, "but since it's too late now…." He picked up his glass, and after lifting it in the direction of the nearby corpse, knocked back the rest of his shot of ale. He then paid for the tab and left to catch up with his friends on their way to Padmé's apartment.