Character(s): Anakin, Obi-Wan
Disclaimer: Star Wars and all its characters are property of Lucasfilm Ltd. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Written for Blue Hobbit's birthday! Contains mentions of past Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan. There's also a wee bit of Anakin/Obi-Wan pre-slash, but can be completely reduced to stray thoughts.

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The Jisa Starring had not stocked anything for thirteen-year-old boys to amuse themselves with. No game rooms, no room to exercise, not even a working holoplayer. Of course, Anakin could have studied his coursework or meditated, but he was not that desperate. Through sheer perseverance, he managed to find an old Dejarik table in the Jisa Starring's lounge. Rows of windows lined the lounge's white walls, giving a great view of hyperspace. Anakin moved around his Dejarik pieces, playing against himself.

Obi-Wan sat down next to him without even glancing once at Anakin. He crossed his legs and read through a datapad, the light flashing across his handsome face. Qui-Gon had told him to shave the silly beard he had tried to grow last year, and he had, but he had not cut his hair. It looked strangely wild in comparison to his neat Jedi robes and polished boots.

Anakin turned the volume up on the Dejarik board, making sure that Obi-Wan could hear the small beasts growl and snarl as they made their way across the board. Obi-Wan's only reaction was to tuck a lock of auburn hair behind his ear. He seemed too handsome, too mannerly for a Jedi. He was not ethereal and ancient like Master Yoda, nor wise and patient like Qui-Gon, nor even powerful and mysterious like Master Windu. He seemed more like a prince or a Senator than a Jedi. He belonged on some planet swathed in synthesilk and wearing a platinum crown, dancing with beautiful maidens like the ones on Naboo.

Sighing, Anakin lowered the volume again. "Boy, I wish I had someone to play Dejarik with," he said, and sighed again.

Obi-Wan drummed his fingers on his thigh. Anakin could see a hint of the muscle through the cloth of Obi-Wan's trousers and looked away. It gave him a strange feeling to stare at Obi-Wan for too long—a feeling remarkably like the heat and arousal he felt when staring at the holopictures he had collected of Padmé. And while he could accept those feelings for Padmé, they seemed unnatural when applied to Obi-Wan.

"I wish there was more to do on this ship."

Obi-Wan continued to read his datapad.

"You don't like me, do you?"

Obi-Wan finally looked up from his datapad. "Why would you ask me a thing like that?" he asked. Anakin could hear irritation in his voice. As always.

"Because you don't look me at me much, and you never talk to me."

"That's not true. Yesterday, I told you to button up your trousers when you left the refresher, as you had forgotten."

Anakin sighed. Obi-Wan was the dumbest smart person he had ever met. "That's not talking. That's telling. You've never talked to me, not once."

Obi-Wan turned back to his datapad. "I barely know you, Anakin."

"Well, you're going to have to get to know me, aren't you?" Anakin sighed and ran his fingers over the smooth-backed couch they sat on. "I mean, Master Qui-Gon said that I'm supposed to go with you on missions from now on."

"You're still his apprentice, not mine. I'm just helping you log your mission hours."

"Then how come he asked you to take over my lightsaber training?"

Obi-Wan sighed and set the datapad down. "Because he's getting old, Anakin. Maul severely injured him on Naboo."

"I know, but that's not his only problem now. You can't have sex with him anymore because the healers told him it was bad for his heart."

"What?" Obi-Wan snapped his head towards Anakin, his face flushing blood red.

Anakin watched Obi-Wan blush with fascination. Few people colored as well as Obi-Wan did—he actually turned red, not pink. "You're louder than you think at night."

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "You listened in through the door."

"So? What's your problem?" Anakin grinned. "I hear funny noises coming from Master Qui-Gon's bedroom sometimes. Why wouldn't I listen in to check on him?"

"I would accept that if you were nine, not thirteen."

"I didn't notice the noises when I was nine. I think I was twelve when I first heard them."

Obi-Wan massaged his temples. "Wonderful. You're a pubescent voyeur."

"A what?" Sometimes, Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan even spoke Basic.

"Never mind." Obi-Wan picked up his datapad. "I don't dislike you. Now drop the subject. And never listen in on me and Qui-Gon again."

"But there's nothing to listen in on now."

Obi-Wan's fierce glare convinced Anakin that he would be wise to pursue another subject.

"So maybe you don't dislike me, but that doesn't mean you like me."

"No, it doesn't."

"You know, you're kind of a wirrick sometimes."

"A what?"

Anakin smiled and went back to playing Dejarik. If Obi-Wan did not know all the Hutt terms for penis, then he was not going to tell him.

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long time, which made Anakin feel a little warm, but Anakin focused on the game. He turned the volume up again, appreciating the little beastly roars as the creatures fought for positioning. He sighed again as he played both positions.

"Oh, for the love of—" Obi-Wan sighed. "Restart the game and move the table between us."

Anakin beamed and did as Obi-Wan told him, if for no other reason than Obi-Wan probably did not expect it.

"I'm not going to go easy on you," Obi-Wan said.

"You never have before, so I wasn't expecting it."

"Fine. Make your move."

Anakin smiled and pushed a button. Even if he lost the game, he considered the night his—after all, Obi-Wan finally paid attention to him. Anakin considered that important, especially since they no longer had Qui-Gon to stand in between them. They would be on their own soon.