"I don't think I'm doing this right."
"No, you're doing it right."
The oil spat up from the pan, and Obi-Wan flinched. "You know," he said, turning to Padmé, "there is a reason why Anakin refuses to let me use the kitchen."
"Oh, he told me," Padmé said, leaning against the counter. "But fortunately, I am not Anakin."
"You mean unfortunately," Obi-Wan replied, eyeing the spitting oil. "If these end up burnt—"
"You won't burn them," Padmé reassured him. She paused. "But you might want to flip them now."
Obi-Wan shoved the spatula under the latkes and, bracing himself, flipped them over. To his pleasant surprise, they were not, in fact, blackened to a crisp. "Oh."
"See?" Padmé said, patting Obi-Wan's back. "You're doing fine." She poked at the handle of the spatula. "Just press down on the latkes a bit more, and I think we'll be good to go."
"How hard?"
"Not too hard—just gently—yeah, like that—"
The oil sizzled and popped, but this time, Obi-Wan didn't flinch back. He watched the latkes carefully as Padmé rushed around the kitchen to grab a few paper towels. "Should be good now!"
With that signal, Obi-Wan transferred the latkes to the paper-toweled plate. A moment later, Padmé returned with two separate containers. "Sour cream or applesauce?"
"Is there…a correct answer?" Obi-Wan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not particularly," Padmé replied. "Although some people might say that sour cream is the only way to go." She popped open the containers and pushed them towards Obi-Wan. "You'll have to make your own opinion."
"Do you have a preference?"
"I said your own opinion!"
After a beat, Padmé said, "I'm more of an applesauce person."
"Then applesauce it is."
Padmé grinned, passing him the container. "You're becoming a better politician by the day, Master Kenobi."
Obi-Wan shuddered. "Please take that back."
"I most certainly won't."
A/N: as always, reviews/follows/favorites are greatly appreciated!