Disclaimer: I own nothing, of course.
Thanks Goes To: trinity6diversia for inspiring me and helping me with the end.
Young Anakin Skywalker glanced over his shoulder to make absolute certain that no one was following him. It was ten-twenty at night, and the curfew for Padawans was an hour ago, but Anakin couldn't taken it any longer; he just had go out. It wasn't only Obi-wan that was getting under his nerves, as it was the knowledge that Senator Amidala was on-planet, and would be leaving tomorrow for Naboo. Had he known sooner, Anakin would have risked this long before, but no, Obi-wan didn't have the decency to tell him until that day when they were called on to accompany the Senator to the opera. It originally would've been only Obi-wan, but as soon as he found out (news spreads fast among tight-knit communities like the Jedi Temple), Anakin had volunteered to go with him. He only went to see, and sat close by the beautiful Senator. He was fourteen, and his emotions often rose higher than necessary, especially around Padmé.
As soon as he was out of sight of the Jedi Temple, Anakin breathed a sigh of relief, then broke into a run, making for the local speeder rentals. He had no money; the Jedi Masters didn't give their young, irresponsible younglings cash—well except for the occasional bribe. Anakin didn't care; using illegal transport was his middle name. He jumped into the cockpit of an especially sexy speeder, with flawless red and black molding, and turned on the engine. A boyish, gleeful grin spread across his face as he heard the engine purr like a kitten. Man, what he would give to get one like this. Anakin put it in gear, and sped out of the parking space, falling quicker and deeper in love with the speeder than with Padmé. He drove high above the city, and recklessly swerved between oncoming speeders, almost colliding several times. Anakin was careful not to get it too scratched. At last, he saw the part of the city were the rich people—senators, governors, military commanders—lived. He turned the corner of a building, rather sharply, and dove down into the depths of the lower levels of Corusant. Excitement at seeing his beloved welled up within him, and Anakin begun to squirm impatiently. He wasn't getting there fast enough!
At last, Anakin saw the building where Padmé resided whenever she stayed on Corusant—500 Republica. He sped into a nearby parking spot with a squeal and thud as the speeder's front hit its neighbor. Anakin grimaced and closed his eyes tightly, expected a rebuke from Obi-wan for his reckless parking, but after a second, he realized that Obi-wan wasn't with him. He grinned sheepishly, happy to be alone during his accident, and limped from the seat. Anakin raced on, dodging the on-coming crowds, ducking and waving, praying that there weren't any Jedi on lower city patrol to escort drunkards and the like home without incident. Anakin was free of the crowds at last, and there was the 500 Republica building before him. It rose, a little bit lonely without any other tall buildings like it within sight. He couldn't get in; he didn't have a pass. So Anakin decided the next best thing. There was a garden at the building's base with a vine that climbed up and up the whole length of the apartments, and just happen to go past the balcony to Padmé's apartment. He would have to climb it if he wanted success. He was a Jedi Padawan with lots of Force sensitivity, so it was no problem. Anakin miscalculated the fact that he might weigh more than that vine.
Anakin snuck into the enclosed garden. There was a pool in the middle of it, and it looked so inviting that he decided to risk skinning-dipping. He wanted to look his best for Padmé, so he stripped and took several laps in the pool before jumping out and dressing again. Then, he went in search of the vine. It took Anakin quite awhile, but at last he found it—a thick, prickly rose vine that crawled up the length of the build, its thorny fingers finding hand holds in cracks in the metal and concrete. Anakin reached out for the Force to aid him, crouched, then leapt up, reaching out for a handhold among the thorns. Before he could stop himself, he let out a yelp as his hands were scratched, and crashed down into the ground below. Anakin lay, stunned, for a second, the stood up, smarting back tears of pain and frustration—he was naturally impatient and hated to be held back by something so stupid as a dumb plant. He took several deep breaths to clear his mind, then tried again, this time with more success.
Despite the thorns that insisted to rip his tunic and pants to shreds, Anakin climbed up the vine relatively quickly. He passed windows, and climbed in vacant balconies for the occasional breather. He was pretty high up by the time he climbed onto the balcony right below Padmé's apartments. He dared himself to peek over the railing just to see how long the drop would be if he did indeed fall. Anakin grinned as he felt his stomach lurch even though he wasn't too afraid of heights; you couldn't be as a Jedi. After his breath return, he reached out over the railing, and grabbed the nearby vine. He swung himself over onto it, and began to climb the final three feet to Padmé's balcony. Just then, a light came on above him, and Anakin heard the sweet, familiar voice of the senator.
"Who's out there?" Padmé peered down over the railing, and saw a black form climbing the vine that crawled up past her apartment. She was in her nightgown and robe, hair done into a long, thick braid, with a boot in her hand. She had apparently forgotten her baster or sleeve gun that always resided by her bedside.
"Who's there?" Padmé called again as the dark form continue to climb upwards. It was a little short for a man, so it had to be some drunk or drugged alien. She raised her weapon, ready to strike it unconscious as soon it reached the balcony.
The creature looked up, and Padmé gasped. "You?!" She would know that face anywhere, despite all the grime and dirt and blood on it. Two sky-blue, love-struck eyes looked up from a boyish face. A honey-blonde braid identified that he was a Jedi Padawan.
"What in all the hells are you doing here?" Padmé hissed as she helped him over the railing and onto the balcony. She was angry at him for—dare she admit it—frightening her.
Anakin scrambled up, straightened his tunic, flatted his unruly hair, then cleared his throat, and began. "I've come to woo my lady," he declared, bowing deeply.
Padmé looked at him in disbelief.
Anakin continued, putting a hand to his heart, "You have stolen my heart, by beautiful, stunning, gorgeous lady. I've tried hard to ignore these feelings, but your love has crushed all my attempts. I'm yours to do as you please," he knelt and grabbed the hem of her nightgown, buried his face tragically in it. "Please, unchain me from this torture you inflect upon my soul."
"What do you think you're doing?" Padmé tried to step back away from the insane Padawan, she gripped her boot tightly, realizing that she might just have to use it on Anakin.
Anakin looked up pleadingly, "I've come to declare my love for you, Padmé Amidala—"
"No," said Padmé. "You've come to freak me out. Do you know how old I am, Anakin?"
Anakin let her gown go, and looked up at her more like a sad puppy than a confused Padawan.
Padmé continued, "I'm almost twenty, you're fourteen. I do not love you, Anakin Skywalker."
At this rejection, Anakin replied, "Then you have crushed my heart beyond recognition, and I can't possibly live without your love. Thus, there's only one think I can do…" he took up his lightsaber.
Padmé realized what was happening, quickly snatched it away from him, and grabbed the back of his tunic, forcing him to his feet. "Okay, that's enough! You're coming with me, and I'm calling Obi-wan this instant."
Anakin tried to squirm from her grasp, but she held onto him too tightly, so he went limp and allowed her to drag him inside her apartment. She set him down on the sofa, and commed Obi-wan without leaving his side.
"Are you missing a youngling, Master Kenobi?" was Padmé's opening line.
Obi-wan bolted upright in his bed, looking frantically around his room for any signs of his Padawan, that is if there was one. "No, no," he mumbled, falling back to his pillow, "not again."
"This isn't the first time he's been out?" Padmé didn't sound very surprised.
Obi-wan nodded, though she could not see it, "Where is he? With you?"
"Yes," Padmé replied, "and acting very strange. He's been declaring his love for me—Master Kenobi are you sure he hasn't gotten into something bad?"
Obi-wan was juggling the com, his lightsaber, and his pants at the some moment, "I don't...know." He raised his voice enough to be sure Anakin heard him at the other end, "You haven't been nipping at Yoda's weed collection, have you, Anakin?" Anakin grumbled a reply that Obi-wan couldn't quite catch. "What was that, Anakin?" This time he heard his younglings reply loud and clear, "Alright, I got it, you haven't—yet. I'll be over there presently, Senator Amidala. I'm so very sorry about all this."
"No, that's alright," Padmé answered through the com, then the connection died and she glared at Anakin. "You're going to very, very sorry for all this."
Anakin squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa, and looked down, blushing bashfully.
The two sat in silence the twenty minutes for the Obi-wan came to retrieve his wayward pupil.
"I'm so sorry for all of this," Obi-wan apologized again as Padmé ushered him in.
Padmé, and brushed it aside with a "I understand."
Anakin stood up and turned to face the doom his master would undoubtedly inflected upon him.
There was a moment's silences, a very tense silence that seemed to the teenager to stretch on and on forever. Then Anakin felt a hard grip on his shoulders, and Obi-wan was escorting him out of the apartment.
On the elevator down, Obi-wan then let into Anakin. Anakin scuffled his boots, and looked at the elevator floor as the expected lecture begun. At last Obi-wan sighed, giving up on the lecture for the present—he would let Mace Windu deal with him tomorrow—and rubbed his temples, a headache threating to emerge.
"Sith, you're hopeless," groaned Obi-wan exasperated.
Anakin looked up from tracing invisible lines on the floor, and grinned, "So, you're finally going to admit it?"
"For now, but I must tell you something, padawan. Climbing vine up a sky-scripter isn't exactly the wisest decision. Where did you ever get that idea?"
"From Romeo," Anakin answered honestly and innocently.
Obi-wan opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and closed his mouth. He didn't even what to know what Anakin was saying.
"Anyway," speech shortly returned to Obi-wan, "It's not the best way to a woo a lady. At least the Senator's never going to fall in love with you after all this."
In this regard Obi-wan was gravely mistaken. Apparently, Anakin's stent had work a spell on Padmé, for eight years later, jumping from his fighter at the Senator's balcony once more, Anakin grinned boyishly. She ran into his arms and he scooped her up like she didn't weigh anything. And he was sorry. He was sorry he'd made her fall in love with him. Well…not too sorry.