Chapter Four
The situation was almost comical, though Anakin tried his best never to enjoy another being's discomfort. It was just that he had never sensed this particular emotion in his Master before. The older Jedi always exuded such an aura of confidence and poise, courage and strength.
What Anakin was discerning as they rode the lift to Senator Amidala's apartment was none of those things. Could it be possible, his Master was nervous?
"Take a deep breath, Master. It's just dinner. You're not asking her to marry you."
"Very funny, Padawan. Have I mentioned how behind you are in Master Tso's Mandalorian Philosophy class? Your mid-term paper is due next week. Perhaps, we should cancel so I help you finish it. There's no better time than the.."
Anakin stopped his Master before he could utter one of his favorite and most over-used phrases. "Present, yes, I know. I also know, you wouldn't be so rude as to cancel dinner this late. Dormé tells me she and the senator have been shopping and cooking all day to prepare for it."
His words did very little to ease his Master's suffering, and the young man placed a comforting hand on his teacher's shoulder and offered him a comforting grin.
Anakin had never felt this way when meeting Dormé. Not even the first time. His attraction for her had hit him like a thunderbolt, and after she confirmed her similar feelings, they had quickly slipped into a comfortable, though fiery relationship. He knew her, he trusted her, and though he hadn't decided yet, he thought that maybe, one day, he would love her. But they were still young. They had plenty of time to decide the possibilities of their commitment to one another.
He was not his Master, though, and his Master's nervousness only proved one thing: the man obviously had feelings for the Senator, or he was worried about her cooking skills.
"Tell me again, why did she make this request?"
The lift had reached the twentieth level, Anakin noted. Only five more to go, and even though he had already shared the reason Dormé had created, he had time to explain one more time. "The senator is concerned with rumors of various Separatist factions working with the Neimoidians to take over trade routes in the Bothan sector, similar to what they did in Naboo. She would like to discuss your feelings regarding the matter."
Anakin immediately cast his gaze back up to the digital floor monitor just in case his Master doubted him. The young man had never been a very good liar and he knew it.
However, his Master seemed to have taken the bait, and uttered a short, surprised "huh," just before the lift door opened.
They were greeted warmly by Dormé, who managed to stop herself from performing a rather embarrassing display of intimacy – out of respect for his Master, of course. Anakin had requested it. His mentor didn't care too much for public displays of affection. Instead, she allowed a mere kiss to her hand, blushing when she received one from his Master as well.
"I'm glad you accepted the invitation, Master Kenobi. The Senator will be out in a moment. Please have a seat. Would you care for a drink?"
The greeting had come out fast, Anakin noticed. Dormé was nervous too, but why? He wondered.
"Thank you, but no," his Master replied, not surprisingly, while taking a seat in the common room.
"We've got Alderaanian brandy," Dormé tempted, at Anakin's earlier suggestion, since it was his Master's favorite alcoholic beverage. The man rarely imbibed, but Anakin and Dormé had already agreed, a drink would certainly relax his nerves.
"Maybe just a little," the older man finally gave in.
It was Padmé who brought in the refreshments, immediately bringing Obi-Wan to his feet.
"Good evening, Senator," the Jedi Master announced, bowing slightly.
"Please, no formalities this evening," the young woman gently scolded. "I want everyone to relax and have a good time. And my name is Padmé. Haven't we been over this before?"
They had, when they'd been assigned to protect the senator during her assassination attempt.
"You're right. My apologies, Padmé."
The Senator smiled sweetly at his Master, Dormé smiled at him, and Anakin thought the evening was going perfectly well. Especially when dinner was served. The food he forked into his mouth was nothing short of delightful. The Temple commissary never served anything like this!
"Are you sure you made this?" he asked Dormé between mouthfuls.
"Does that mean you like it?" She seemed unsure, when she had no reason to be.
"It's wonderful! Best thing I've ever put in my mouth. Well…almost," the young man teased, hoping his Master would miss the innuendo.
Dormé didn't and blushed furiously, while attempting to kick his leg underneath the table. She missed, however, striking her own shin instead.
"Are you okay?" the Senator asked when Dormé hissed in pain.
"Fine," she uttered, before sticking her tongue out at Anakin.
"I agree," his Master finally joined the conversation, apparently too engrossed in the tasty offerings to pay any attention to what was happening at the table. Which was a good thing.
"This is wonderful! My compliments to the chef." The older man's gaze and smile turned to Dormé, causing the young woman to blush yet again.
"Thank you."
Everyone was smiling and enjoying the food, as well as each other's company. That is, until his Master just had to change the subject.
"I've been told you would like to hear my opinions regarding the separatist's involvement with the Neimoidans in the Bothan Sector."
At first, the senator appeared confused, but then graciously recovered. "If that's what you wish to discuss, Obi-Wan, I would more than happy to."
It was his Master's turn then to look confused, and things would've gotten worse if Dormé hadn't suddenly jumped up from the table.
"Who's ready for dessert? Anyone? I've made dustcrepes. Two different flavors, actually. Senator, would like to help me bring them in? Let's eat them in the common room, actually, and I'll refill everyone's glasses as well."
Due to Dormé's quick thinking, the situation was once more brought under control, and they all moved back to their prior seating arrangements.
The dessert was even better than the main course, and the brandy flowed freely. The conversation was crafted by Anakin and Dormé to avoid any politics, mainly focusing on the comedic trials of training a padawan. It had actually turned into a pleasant evening, despite his Master's worries, with the possibility of a repeat performance.
And by the time his Master had decided they needed to take their leave, Anakin was confident they were off to a good start.
The two women escorted their guests into the senator's foyer, preparing to bid them a good evening. But when the senator took his Master's offered hand, a look of deep concern came over her face.
"Obi-Wan, you're burning up! Are you feeling ill?"
Anakin looked first to Dormé and could not read her reaction, and then to his Master, who did indeed seem flushed.
"I'll be fine," his Master replied, his balance suddenly tipping, which Anakin corrected with his own strength, holding the older man upright. "It started a few minutes ago. Must've been the brandy. I'm afraid I'm not used to drin…"
The statement wasn't completed before the Jedi slumped into his awaiting student's arms.
Anakin picked up his Master and promptly followed Padmé's advice to take him straight to her private suite. Once there, Anakin deposited his mentor onto the senator's bed, where she began doting on him, rushing to and fro from her bathing room to the bed, draping cool, wet towels across his forehead and face.
It was only then that Anakin realized Dormé hadn't followed them, and when he turned to see her casually leaning against the doorframe, he hated to admit, he wasn't very pleased with what he saw.