This Is The Dream of Anakin and Obi-Wan:Alchemy Dream
A/N: Just a short little thing. The result of a really stressful, depressing day.
Pairing: Anakin/Obi-Wan
Timeline: Clone Wars
Warnings: slash, duh.
Reviews are love.
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Obi-Wan watches Anakin sleep. He likes the way he snores.
Obi-Wan dreams of a time when mundanity is not a luxury. He likes the way the glass on the balcony window fogs when the temperature drops at night, the way thin curtains of ice spread like microorganisms under a microscope, the light dreamy veil of dust motes that exist solely for the opportunity of sublime flight.
Of course, there is always duality. In contrast to this peaceful moment, there will be thousands of agonizing ones ahead, sucking the air from his lungs at gale force, as he is beckoned once again to witness the rape of women, men and children alike, the easy, simple termination of life before his very eyes. The echoes of their screams, the violent resonation of their pleas, their cries for help, for salvation. But alone, he marches forwards, pushing back the lumps that consume his throat.
Because this is war, and he is the General. It is his duty, and he will do it again and again. If for nothing else, then for a moment like this.
He has earned his disillusionment.
Watching the younger man sleeping, for once completely at peace, he is reminded that he is not the only one who suffers this realized vision of hell. Anakin fights alongside him, watching his back as Obi-Wan watches Anakin's. He maneuvers his lightsaber with the same fearsome grace, his movements component to twin acrobatics, like gemini in combat. He also comes home, on the few instances that they are allowed leave from the war, bleary-eyed, covered in the invisible residue of death. Anakin hurts, and Obi-Wan does not know how to stop it. So he smothers the embers with whatever he can give.
They come home to dry out, to make trips to the temple's laundry room together, to wake up at two in the morning, when the cold tile feels nice against their feet to have insomnia-induced culinary adventures. This usually ends with a sinkful of dirty dishes, wasted ingredients, and some quick instant pudding.
But these moments are priceless.
And strangely, sex becomes more beautiful. What started as a mere distraction becomes a ritual, taking place between the monastery of the sheets. Duality comes into play here, too. The beauty and awkwardness of two hot, smooth bodies traveled like globes and maps, the deliciously wet friction of slick skin, of mouths feeding the other air, the ongoing experiment of eliciting the most erotic, perfect sounds from the other. Obi-Wan's moans are the most treasured, his being the hardest earned. But then, when they are, Anakin is right there, coming with him.
Anakin and Obi-Wan argue a lot. Anakin throws fits, and Obi-Wan defends himself as best as he can. Sometimes, when the pain is blinding, they leave bruises on one another, a physical manifestation of the frustration that eats them away inside. Anakin always asks questions that cannot be answered.
"What are we fighting for! This sublime ideal that we serve only tears everything apart!"
Obi-Wan cannot answer, because he does not know. For so long, he has believed that at the end of this long, strange journey there would be some justification for the bloodshed, but like Anakin, every turned corner leads to suffering. Anakin is angry that Obi-Wan cannot guide him, and shouts, and cries, and proclaims him worthless.
Anakin regrets.
He regrets hurting Obi-Wan, when he lies looking at his back, hours before the dawn. He knows that they could be called back to the mission tomorrow, that Obi-Wan could die before his very eyes without ever hearing him utter "I love you." He fears that Obi-Wan will die, never knowing that he, in fact, is not worthless, but rather he is a calm spot of light in world that offers so little else. He cries when Obi-Wan cannot see him, because he cannot say "I love you." The words themselves cheapen the intensity of what he cannot describe, and so he remains silent, and prays that Obi-Wan understands.
Obi-Wan submits to a zephyr sunrise that beams in through the window, and watches as it beads over his lover's face, his breath taken away by the golden stillness this sleeping Anakin posseses. It is times like this that he knows this isn't one dimensional, that they are in it for the long haul. Anakin submits completely, warmed under the combined touch of a liquid sun in a cold bedroom and twined and tangled limbs between the sheets. Obi-Wan spends this time memorizing the exact locations of freckles, the way the shadows of his lashes fall on his cheeks. He traces with a tentative finger the faint line of light brown hair that trails down his taut belly, falling in soft curls between his thighs. Anakin flutters to life, a gentle, breathy moan escaping his lips as he presses forward into Obi-Wan's arms, tucking his head into the crook of his neck seeking closer contact. His body unconsciously seeks more friction, but Obi-Wan holds him tighter.
"Be still," he says, supressing a shiver. The comm link on the door sounds, and Anakin's heart falls. Today is the day they will leave everything behind again, the day that the starship will take them away to another nameless, faceless planet, to a falling civilization under siege at the hands of the Separatists. They will sleep on either side of a finite wall, wondering what the other is thinking, the sound of their pounding, aching hearts the discouraging lullaby that puts them to sleep at night.
Obi-Wan's eyes clench shut. He knew that the day would come, and he had thought that this break would be refreshing, that it would prepare him for the inevitable. He looks up through his eyelashes to Anakin, who won't meet his gaze. Obi-Wan decides there is nothing he can say to make it easier, and moves to get up, get washed, get dressed.
"No!"
But in rush of sound, of air, Anakin is on top of him, pinning him beneath his warm body, pushing his wrists into the mattress. Deep boundless cobalt eyes look through him, questioning, challenging. But most of all, begging. His head falls limp, and he lets the vulnerability seep from his lips.
"No. Please, don't." He looks down at Obi-Wan, who has to avoid his gaze to keep from drowning. He turns to his stomach under Anakin and buries his head in the pillow, wishing to push the snooze button on life.
Just thirty more minutes...
Anakin straddles his hips and rubs his hands up and down Obi-Wan's back, squeezing his shoulders on the way up. He nuzzles his face at the soft nape of his neck, a particularly tender spot, enjoying the smell of Obi-Wan's blonde-ish auburn hair. He massages the eternally tight knots with the pads of his thumbs, relief washing over him as Obi-Wan sinks, relaxed, into the mattress. His nails trace the shape of the shoulder blades, the ravine of his spinal cord. His heart skips a beat, instinctually as he traces the scars, the intricate history of battle that should mar his lovely tawny skin, but only proves to enhance his beauty. He knows Obi-Wan's body like a map, he knows where the tensions manifest, and how to get them out. He knows how hard to press, and is rewarded with a strangled cry when his fingers work a knot from the side of the shoulder blade. Obi-Wan's feet automatically twist in the blankets, and he slumps when Anakin's fingers leave him. Anakin then lays against him, his belly to Obi-Wan's back, and presses soft, shaky kisses to his clean smelling skin. He utters a wordless plea against his spine, and Obi-Wan turns to press him down to the mattress.
"We have to go, Anakin."
Anakin remains silent, and frees Obi-Wan. He knows he is right, and can't stop him. But as Obi-Wan steps to the washroom, he panics. This senseless panic that paralyzes him whenever he leave his side.
"Obi-Wan! I..."
Obi-Wan turns to face him, his eyes heavy.
"I...nothing," Obi-Wan smiles, and continues. He understands.
When he hears the refresher turn on, he crawls back under the blankets, savouring the fading warmth of their bed. Their bed. He decides he wants to end the cycle of death, the carousel that is the Clone War. He wants to do it for Obi-Wan, to be with him like this more often. To not worry that he could die at any moment. Just as Obi-Wan will kill, will lead armies into the battlefield, blindly following a dying light at the end of the tunnel, only to keep Anakin safe. It is his dream, the only thing left for him in a galaxy of pain.
In the end, the dreams may be different, but the dreams are one.
This is the dream of Anakin and Obi-Wan.
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