Obi-Wan's Worst Memory
"Where are we going again?" In the gloom of night, so thickly filling the depths of bottom-level Coruscant, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi stumbled over the hem of his cloak and fell against his teenage Padawan learner.
Shaking his head in amusement, Anakin Skywalker caught his Master and dragged him along through the backstreet alleys teaming with bounty hunters, gamblers, prostitutes, and other shady life-forms. "You are so drunk," Anakin chuckled.
"No, I'm not. I'm perfectly fine," Obi-Wan countered in a strangely high-pitched voice before swaying precariously, his tipsy body threatening to topple over once again.
"Right," Anakin muttered dryly, steadying Obi-Wan with one strong arm. "Come on, Master, let's get you home."
"I don't want to go home," Obi-Wan protested. "I don't have a home."
"The Temple. Now come on."
"I live over there." Obi-Wan flung out an arm and pointed wildly at a dilapidated mess of rotted, half-painted boards that in Anakin's opinion barely qualified as a building, much less a home.
The Padawan laughed out loud, greatly entertained by the antics of his typically-well-behaved Master. "Uh, Obi-Wan? That's a tattoo parlor." But Obi-Wan, far from listening to his apprentice, had already started to wander into the gloomy structure.
"Well, alright, if you insist," Anakin conceded, a small smile dancing mischievously in the infinite depths of his blue eyes. "After all, who am I to argue with my Master?"
When the two walked out of the sketchy shop an hour later (well, when Anakin walked out and dragged the stumbling, light-headed Obi-Wan after him), each sported a new tattoo.
"Ani." Obi-Wan tugged on the sleeve of his Padawan's floor-length black cloak. "Ani."
Anakin, weary from the latest trials of the Clone Wars yet thoroughly enjoying the actions of his Master after downing a few too many Coruscanti Chasers during a stint spent spying on some Separatist ringleaders gathering in one of the dingiest bars on the planet, laughed softly. "Yes, Master?" The chuckle in his voice betrayed his obedient tone.
"What does your tattoo look like again?"
Wow, thought Anakin, that's sure not a question you expect Obi-Wan Kenobi, über-conservative, rule-following Jedi Master, to ask on a regular basis. His eyes twinkling, Anakin pushed up his sleeve to reveal the small Naboo royal symbol, across which ran the word Padmé in flowey, scrolling script.
Obi-Wan laughed happily and complimented Anakin's choice. It wasn't until the next morning that the Jedi Master awoke, with a throbbing headache and absolutely no recollection of the past twenty-four hours, to wonder exactly why the phrase I Love My Padawan was tattooed in brilliant blue letters across his chest.
