SUMMARY: Ahsoka's been working hard, and now she looks horrible, feels horrible, and just wants to crash onto her bed. But of course, she just had to crash into Anakin, of all people. Brother/sister fluff.

A/N: Well, to any of you that might know me already... Uh, I'm not dead. I could be wrong, though. Who knows? Not I. I apologise in a deep, grovelling manner for not posting/updating since... Christmas 2014, I think. Oops.

In any case, I wrote this a while back, skimmed

through it five minutes ago, and thought, what the heck? You know what, I'll post this.

I hope you enjoy!

Ahsoka Tano had had a hard day.

She'd been furiously working on the Twilight and her fighter since 0600 hours this morning, and it was now 1800 at night, or what passed for night, anyway, aboard the Resolute. And, Force, was she tired. She'd put in a solid twelve hours of work, only stopping when she absolutely had to. She was exhausted, hungry, and just a tad snappy. She remembered the poor shiny she'd maybe, accidentally, scared the heck out of by yelling at him at half an hour ago. Ahsoka winced. She would most certainly not have wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

So, she was trudging back to her bedroom (with it's own 'fresher, thank goodness) when she crashed into her master, and landed flat on her backside. Rex looked down at her from his position, a metre above her head. A tendril of curious Force energy told her that he was feeling seriously awkward.

Oh, kriff.

Anakin stuck out a hand to help her up, then stopped to appraise her for a few seconds, until he finally said, "You look... interesting, Snips."

There were a number of other words that could have been used to describe her, awful and terrible being the ones at the forefront of her mind, but all that drained away as she realised just exactly how bad she must have looked.

A figure presented itself to her brain, as though she were watching a movie. The figure was her, and good Force, interesting was the least offending way to put it.

She had a pair of green-tinted flying goggles high on her forehead, leaving the skin around her eyes the cleanest part of her face. One arrow-shaped cheek marking was completely obscured by engine grease, and the other was grey with dust and grime instead of white. Her montrals and lekku were smudged with even more grease, and she couldn't even see the white stripes in places. She had a slightly dented datapad sticking out of the breast pocket of her jacket (how in the name of the Force did manage to dent the thing?), and a screwdriver poking out of the other. A hydrospanner peeped out of her the left pocket of her pants, and a rag soaked in machine oil in the right. The squashed and mangled remains of a sandwich someone had pushed at her was squished into her back pocket, and she wasn't wearing a shoe on one orange foot.

Ah. That would explain why I feel so wobbly, she thought.

Ahsoka looked away, suddenly abashed by her atrocious state. "I do, don't I?" she muttered, suddenly swaying on her feet. Anakin caught her and steadied her stance. "You okay, Snips?" he asked her simply. She wobbled again, but managed to straighten herself this time.

"Yup, uh huh, totally." She bent down to take the other shoe off, hoping that without it, she'd stop swaying.

Her Master appeared totally unconvinced by any of the three words she'd put out to reassure him. "No, you're not," he said firmly.

She wobbled again, but Anakin guided her hand so that she could brace herself against the wall. Through the exhausted fog of her mind, she saw him exchange words with Rex, and then he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and gently led her back to her room.

"I do look 'interesting', don't I, Master?" she murmured.

He gave a light chuckle when he answered, "Indeed you do, Snips. Indeed you do."

A/N: Feed the hungry author reviews, dear readers! She will be unreasonably ecstatic. Like a small dog. Yes. The author is a small, easily-pleased, review-hungry dog.

Yeah, go figure. Constructive criticism is great, lettuce and gentlebugs!