Dinner was pleasant, in fact she would have to count this as the best dinner she had enjoyed in a long while. Not because the soup was anything particularly special, but because it was spent in his company, which, while always enjoyable, had become so much more now. They had talked for well over an hour about any and everything that passed through their minds, his voice was quiet but dignified, and there was always that quiet smile that seemed to only come across his face for her.

And now she was sitting in the couch of his recently half-emptied apartment, waiting on him to once again brew tea. His head came through the doorway of the kitchen, "Is there a particularly flavor you might enjoy?"

"Mint is always nice." She said, and he nodded, turning around as the kettle started to whistle. She personally had always had a cup of caf when she wanted energy, but she knew Obi-Wan had always enjoyed tea, an old habit picked up from Qui-Gon. And whatever flavor he had made for them yesterday, with a heavy mint and just a touch of sweetness, had been perfect. Though she thought that might have had more to do with the company.

"Here you are." He said, handing her a steaming cup as he took the seat two cushions down from her, his own mug in his hands. "It might be a bit stronger than yesterday's, I'm afraid. The bags are wrapped individually, and they tend to differ on concentration a bit."

"I'm sure I can handle it," She said with a smirk, and his face went a bit red. She watched him as he took a sip and then stretched out his arms. His tunic pulled back against his skin, and she was hit with flashes of the night before, seeing his bare skin in the dark, running her hands over his body. He turned away from her slightly, setting his cup down, something seeming to come to his mind. She watched his arm move, and remembered distinctly the thick white scar that adorned it, a mark form a lightsaber fight. He had told her about it at dinner, his and Anakin's fight with Dooku, but she had not pressed it beyond that.

"When did Anakin move out?"

"He was knighted shortly after we returned from Geonosis, though I know you were away in the mid-rim brigade runs." He said, looking back to her, his focus seeming somewhere other than there conversation. "He has an apartment down the hall."

"Are you thinking of taking another apprentice, then?" She said, finishing her tea and setting the mug down on the table, "You certainly have the space." He gave her a small laugh at that, his eyebrows lifting as he nodded in agreement.

"I do." He turned to face her fully, clasping his hands together. "But I think it may be a while before I take another one, I've barely recovered from the first." She gave a small laugh, "And with the war going on…"

He grew quiet, more solemn. She thought back to the war as it had been, she had been on Geonosis, watched the slaughter of more than sixty Jedi by Dooku's forces, had felt the force lose some fo the light it had held. Then she had left, hearing about Yoda's fight with Dooku, and Obi-Wan's appointement as a High General, and the divison of clone armies, but she had been away. They were both quiet for a moment.

"The war will end, Obi-Wan." She said, and he looked over at her, his face weary. "It does not have to consume everything."

"You're right, of course." He said, and gave a faint hint of a smile. "Us, for example. I won't let the war weigh on the fact that I haven't seen you in years, Siri." He reached out a hand, and she wove her fingers through his. "Though I can only imagine Master Windu's face if he saw us in here now."

He wasn't looking at her, but she had to almost laugh at him at that, he looked so serious. She set down her mug, now lukewarm, and moved over closer to him. "There are other things I would rather picture." She said, and unsubtly slid her hand up his side to undo the carefully tied knot that held his tunic together. "And some I don't have to imagine at all."

His head swiveled and his eyes met hers with a brief flash. His cheeks, though well hidden by his beard and he could never admit it, were stained red at her advance, pulling his tunic apart to once again run her hands over his skin. "As I said, Siri, last night was incredible." He said softly, and his hand reached up to stroke her cheek. "I cannot help but feel as though I am being selfish."

"Allowing yourself to be happy doesn't mean you are detracting from the war effort, Obi-Wan." She said softly. "And there is nothing in the code against this." He kept his eyes level with hers for a moment, his expression one of deep thought and consideration.

"You are always right," He said, with a small laugh, "I don't know how you manage that." He didn't get an answer, in part because he didn't wait for one. He brushed a thumb over her cheekbone and pressed his lips against hers, an arms coming around her as his tunic was pushed back onto his shoulders, one of her hands threading through his short hair, the other sliding around to his back to pull him closer.


At some point in their progression, she was conscious of his arms lifting her from his couch, most of their clothes abandoned in his living room. Her body was aching for him, a product of physical need, maybe, but perhaps moreso of their force connections, which she could feel intertwined even closer than their bodies. She wanted him, all of him.

She was met with flashes of memory of the night before, where the sensations between them had been new. Now his fingers and lips traveled her body like he knew exactly she needed from him, his sweet words that traveled over her skin to her ears hit every note that she needed to hear. When she pulled his lips to hers as they came together again and again and again, he was doing more than moving inside of her. He was pulling them together in a way that made it exactly impossible for her to think beyond that room, where a war still raged and pain and sorrow were waiting. But as her name took over his other words, the feel of him, the sounds he made, she decided that for a moment, she did not care.

She turned in the bed, feeling his warm arm move back across her waist. He was still sleeping, his face the picture of relaxation, she pressed her face into the pillow to see him. She had realized, after his body had relaxed against her in sleep, how satisfying the afterglow of contentment was. Almost as satisfying as making love to him to begin with. Almost.


She reached out and touched his chest, tracing the same scar she had traced two nights before, before any of this had even happened. It was still early, though she knew it probably wouldn't' be long before he woke and the day, full of work and frustrations would begin again. So instead of waking him, or leaping early into the day, she closed her eyes to fall back into sleep, his gentle face the image that filled her mind as her mind turned to dreams. Dreams of what would have happened if she had never gotten injured, if he had never been thoughtful enough to bring her that first mug of mint tea.