Impatient Patient

"Masterrrr, you don't need to fuss. I'm fine, I swear!"

Qui-Gon shook his head, tightening his grip on Obi-Wan's wrist. His student was doing well, despite all outward appearances. He wasn't actively fighting him, not physically at least, and was genuinely doing his best to release the sting from the antiseptic to the Force. There was no small amount of embarrassment emanating from his charge's signature too.

"Uh huh. If you're fine, then how did you get these?" He asked, gesturing to the padawan's scraped arms and cut hands.

Obi-Wan frowned, turning away so he wouldn't have to meet his teacher's gaze. "It was an accident."

Qui-Gon shook his head once again. "Of course. Because everyone accidentally jumps out of trees in the Temple gardens."

Obi-Wan flushed bright scarlet, the embarrassment intensifying along with an increasing desire to hide under a rock for the next hundred years.

It had been an accident. He was helping out the Crechemasters during playtime and was trying to catch an interesting insect, thinking that the kids would like to see it. But the insect had wings. And he did not.

Injuries aside, the fall hadn't really hurt as much as the laughing younglings had.

Obi-Wan bit his lip, thinking over his next words carefully.

"Can I get the lecture on patience instead of the one on impulsiveness this time?"

Qui-Gon chuckled, internally relieved that his student was not drawing back into himself to mope like a frightened sand-crab.

"Alright. But only if you try to sit still while I finish."

"Yes Master."

Squirming

Anakin exhaled, pushing all the breath out of his body so he could slip through his Master's grasp and dashed down the hall. Obi-Wan recovered quickly and was soon right on his heels, snatching him back up in one smooth motion.

"None of that, thank you!"

He tightened his hold, attempting to still Anakin's insistent wriggling and squirming. No such luck, the boy continued to fuss and push back against his teacher as he was carried back into the fresher and plopped onto the counter.

Having learned his lesson, Obi-Wan kept a strong hand on Anakin while he reached for a cloth and continued trying to tend to the large cut on his apprentice's forehead.

Anakin whined, pulling away, and eventually Obi-Wan's patience ran out.

"Would you stop fussing? It needs to be cleaned."

Anakin shook his head. He didn't care if he was being childish, it was unfamiliar and it hurt and he didn't trust it. "Nooo it stingss!"

Obi-Wan took a breath, forced himself to remember that Anakin was not like he had been as a padawan, was not used to this kind of thing.

"I know, I know." He soothed, ruffling the boy's hair a little. "But if you keep moving around, the wound may open more. And then I'll have to take you to the healers to get stitches. Is that what you want?"

Anakin's eyes went wide and he shook his head rapidly, sending small drops of blood flying around the fresher. Obi-Wan reached out and braced Anakin's head with his hands to stop the splatter.

"Then prove it. Please."

Just Another Scar

Ahsoka flinched, hissing through her teeth as the acrid bite of the antiseptic touched her skin.

"Shh, it's okay. I know it hurts."

The stripes on her lekku darkened, and Anakin could sense the embarrassment within his student warring with her exhaustion and desire for comfort. He chose not to comment, simply hummed and continued working to gently clean the dried blood and dirt from the gashes in her shoulder.

After a moment, he sensed more than saw her relax, entering a slight trance. This was their routine, a form of moving meditation after battle. After reports, checking up on all the troops and the wounded, Master and Padawan would patch each other up before finally getting some sleep. They preferred taking care of each other's minor injuries, instead of distracting the other medics or med droids.

It was a form of connection, physical followed by mental using their bond as an anchor point. It was reassuring, especially after seeing so much death around them. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

After getting all the debris out, Anakin grabbed a tube of bacta and finished bandaging the worst of the cuts, relishing in Ahsoka's sigh of relief.

"Well, you're pretty roughed up, but I don't think any of 'em will scar."

She shrugged, hopping off the table and helping to clean up the med-kit. "What's another scar? I've already got a ton."

Anakin froze, taking a long look at his student. She was fine, she was standing in front of him, all in one piece. But he couldn't shake this sinking feeling that she wasn't just referring to physical scars.