Consciousness slowly came to Obi-Wan. Sleep wanted to keep him like indigo waves claw at sand. The edges of his perception expanded before he opened his eyes, and he could feel Anakin tucked under his arm, the boy's chest rising and falling peacefully, his effortless breath gracing Obi-Wan's neck. Obi-Wan smiled, before he sensed someone else. He looked up and Padmé was there in the doorway, her arms crossed. She motioned him over.

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin one last time and then slipped out of bed and followed Padmé downstairs.

She fixed herself a drink and calmly asked, "What is wrong with you?"

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows at her audacity. In the same tone, he replied, "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know," Padmé said, pointing her glass at him accusingly. "He's far too old for that."

"Perhaps, you are," said Obi-Wan. He folded his arms loosely and leaned against the counter. "But to me, Anakin is still my little boy."

A thin line creased Padmé's forehead for a second. His words had touched a nerve. But what she saw between them wasn't normal. "You're smothering him," she asserted.

Obi-Wan considered it briefly and shook his head. "He just likes me. He likes me, so we're close. Is there something so very wrong with that?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan. One day, he's going to fall in love, move out, and leave you behind." She sipped her vitajuice as Obi-Wan's grip on his arms tightened.

"Leave who behind?" Anakin greeted them as he walked into the kitchen.

"Nobody, my dear," Obi-Wan said, sending a warning look Padmé's way. He turned his back to her and started fixing breakfast. Padmé sighed and Anakin sat down tiredly. While they ate, Obi-Wan observed Anakin's mussed hair and weary eyes. Things had been rough lately. Surely Anakin needed him. If he could, Obi-Wan would undo everything that had happened since they moved to the motel. But Grievous was out of their hands now. He'd sunk to the bottom of the silent, black lake as the water swallowed him up without so much as a bubble.

Anakin nudged him with his toe. Obi-Wan realized he'd been staring. Anakin offered a reassuring smile, a trace of milk on his lip.

Padmé set her bowl at the sink with a clatter and gathered her things. "I'm going out," she declared.

"Wait," Obi-Wan said. He went into the other room and returned with a stack of fliers. "If you're going to stay awhile, please help out and put these up around town." She took them from him without a word and opened the door to leave. "And Padmé," he called.

She faced him.

"Be careful."

Her expression softened. "I will." She turned, white dress swirling behind her.

Obi-Wan shut the door and stood there a moment.

"Does she remind you of Satine?"

Anakin was there beside him. His eyes, exhausted as they were, were still so piercingly soul-searching that Obi-Wan decided to sit down. With his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together, Obi-Wan pondered his answer, and Anakin joined him on the couch. His last memories of Satine were of her suffering as their newborn baby cried in his arms.

"Yes," he said eventually, "In the way she holds herself, and in her words." He added wistfully, "Satine could have ruled the world."

Is that why you fight?

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin abruptly. He hadn't asked himself that before. Anakin scooted closer to him. He looked inward and determined, "Perhaps, we both feel guilty."

Anakin spread out across the fuzzy couch and Obi-Wan's lap. "Do I remind you of Mother?" he asked, brows coming together as he glanced up at his father.

"You do," Obi-Wan responded. He curled his arm around Anakin's shoulder and caressed his face. "Shmi was warm and kind and very loving…" He thought of the wedding rings tucked away in his nightstand drawer.

Anakin caught the tear that had formed in the corner of Obi-Wan's eye before it fell.

Obi-Wan laughed a little—he hadn't even felt it. He said, "But she wasn't reckless or unruly, as you've proven to be."

"Hey," he protested, sitting up. Anakin glared at Obi-Wan before saying, "It's no wonder where I get it from."

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

Obi-Wan tensed, preparing to strike. He leaned in and whispered, "Did you inherit my ticklishness, too?"

"What?"

Obi-Wan had him trapped beneath him before Anakin could move a muscle. "Your reflexes could use some work, young one," he said as his fingers trailed a torturous path across Anakin's ribs, stomach, and chin.

Anakin erupted with laughter, limbs wriggling in an attempt to get away.

Obi-Wan tucked a hand behind Anakin's knee and then up a little higher, causing Anakin to flail so hard he jabbed Obi-Wan in the face.

He released Anakin and rubbed at his jaw. Anakin looked apologetic. "I think that answers my question," Obi-Wan said, smiling.

Padmé ran into Rush Clovis again while she pasted the fliers all around town. If she was going to do anything today, she didn't want her father's task hanging over her head while she tried to enjoy herself. And, as she suspected, the fliers provided an opportunity to meet people, especially those whose curiosity was unbridled.

"Kenobi Motel, opening soon," Rush read off the blue-on-white text. He stood beside her and gently slipped the stack of paper out of Padmé's hands so he could put them up himself. Padmé might have been indignant if Rush hadn't kept talking.

"I've always found motels charming, in their own menial ways. I would love to be your first guest."

Padmé looked up at him earnestly. "You would?"

Rush smirked and handed the fliers back to her, his fingers brushing hers deliberately. "As long as I have someone to share the room with."

Obi-Wan and Anakin were watching a holovid when Anakin's phone buzzed.

"Who is it?" asked Obi-Wan. Such apprehension at the thought of strangers was starting to become a habit.

Anakin picked up the device with a roll of his eyes. "It's just Ahsoka. She wants to know if we can meet up later."

Relief was evident in his voice. "That's fine," Obi-Wan said. "Better than fine, actually, since I'll be out this afternoon."

"Out?" Anakin was used to ambiguity from Padmé, but not Obi-Wan—unless it was given in his Jedi lessons.

Obi-Wan was worried how Anakin would perceive the news for more than one reason. He hesitated and said, "I'm having dinner with someone."

Anakin crossed his arms and questioned, "What someone?"

Obi-Wan swallowed a lump in his throat. He muttered, "Sheriff Cody."

First Anakin appeared surprised, then a touch angry as he clamped his jaw shut and his eyes bored into the floor. Finally, Anakin replied, "When I said you could distract him, I didn't mean that you should."

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his long golden hair, fingers closing over a lock tensely before he admitted, "It's not exactly like that."

Anakin was closed off to him then. He sat back against the couch cushions and started the holovid again.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan pleaded. At least he'd like to know why his son was upset. There were so many possibilities, and Obi-Wan couldn't name them all. Anakin simply watched the actors on the screen bicker and get in each other's faces and kiss heatedly before storming off in different directions.

At Ahsoka's house, Anakin learned three things. First, the book they were reading started to get really good, like, you won't believe this kind of good. Second, Ahsoka might have...accidentally...finished reading it without Anakin. She'd shrugged dramatically and said sorry in that sing-songy voice of hers. And thirdly...

"Oh, Barriss wanted me to invite you to her party this Friday," Ahsoka said.

Anakin twisted his fingers in the carpet. "I don't know how I'd feel at a party."

"You should go," she said supportively.

"Why?" he asked bluntly. "In case you haven't noticed, not many people at school like me." Or many people at all, he thought.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "You dork. Barriss likes you." She watched in amusement as Anakin took in her meaning. "What should I tell her?"

"About the party or—"

"Her feelings."

Anakin battled with the question. He didn't want to hurt a girl he'd just met. But then again, they had just met. What business did she have liking him? What was the appeal? He didn't know.

Ahsoka sat in front of him in crisscross applesauce style. She asked, "Should I tell her you're not interested, or that you can't be interested?"

He could feel his face heating up. He didn't know the answer to that one either. "I mean, she is pretty," Anakin spilled, "But I also think you're pretty—" He groaned at himself internally. Ahsoka smiled at him, so comfortable with being open. "The point is, I think a lot of…different people are pretty," he concluded.

"I understand," Ahsoka said. Anakin knew she meant it.

"Don't, don't tell her that, okay?"

"Promise," she replied, an idea flashing behind her brilliant blue eyes. "I'll tell her the love of your life got eaten by a gundark and you're still recovering."

Anakin's laugh was pulled from his chest despite himself. "You're the best, Snips."

She smiled daintily and batted her eyelashes. "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

"I take it back," he grumbled. "You're the worst."

Dinner with Cody had gone by without a hitch, though Obi-Wan had become hyperaware of his own fidgeting, and the little rasp in Cody's laugh and a million other tiny things he wanted to memorize. Obi-Wan had felt alone for a long time, even with Asajj. Soon the two of them were at the theater.

They sat down in the top row of seats as the lights dimmed and brought darkness upon them. The opening credits flashed in Obi-Wan's eyes and the sight of blasters blazing across the screen surprised him. He hadn't been paying enough attention, he didn't know what they were seeing. Obi-Wan supposed it only mattered that he was with Cody, here and now. He jumped at the sound of an explosion and shook his head to clear it.

Cody wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders and looked at him with darkened eyes. Obi-Wan's cheeks flushed and he didn't know if he was reading too much into, well, everything. Cody pulled him closer, so his shoulders curled towards him, and he laid a calloused hand across Obi-Wan's jaw. Obi-Wan eyed the man's lips and closed his eyes as Cody leaned in.

It took a few seconds for Obi-Wan to finally relax. The cacophonous noise of needless violence faded into the background as Cody held his attention. He tasted sweet, like sugary cola, and then Obi-Wan was chastising himself for making out in a crowded theater. But he didn't stop. He ran his fingers through Cody's hair and held onto the short locks tightly, as if he were afraid to lose the man's affection any second now. Cody just smiled and opened his mouth a little wider.

Obi-Wan thought he was lost in the kiss. Truthfully, he couldn't stop thinking. Have I not matured since my teenage years? he berated himself, because surely they were drawing attention, and then his mind was simultaneously on the muddled freedom of his youth and on his teenage son. Has Anakin ever done this? he asked himself, and he didn't know which answer he would approve of, because Force, it feels good but Anakin is young and naïve and also he deserves better than me—

Cody paused to take a breath, and luckily the Sheriff could not read thoughts or feel the conflict in Obi-Wan. He tucked a piece of Obi-Wan's hair behind his ear.

Obi-Wan sighed and thought Cody deserved better, too.

Obi-Wan came home and promptly pulled off his boots and hung his cloak with care. He was about to head upstairs when Anakin's voice stopped him.

"You were out late."

He was in the family room, balled up on the couch, like a black kettle left to boil. He had to make sure of Obi-Wan's return. But now the worry had turned to something like jealousy.

Obi-Wan chose to ignore his bitter tone and, keeping his distance, responded, "You didn't have to wait up for me." It could have sounded thankful if Obi-Wan intended it so.

Anakin heard an accusation through his words. Yes, he had to. Wasn't it clear what could happen without Anakin by his side? Grievous flickered in his mind, but more disturbing to Anakin was what he imagined between Cody and his father. "Why were you out so late?" he pressed.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "We went to a late showing. That's all," he answered honestly, but he didn't appreciate the insinuation. He felt Anakin's anger through their bond and it became his own.

Anakin supposed that dinner and a holovid could have taken up half the night. He got off the couch and stood before Obi-Wan, feeling the situation demanded an apology, but he just couldn't push the words past his lips.

Obi-Wan reflected the scowl right back at Anakin, who may not have realized his brows were still furiously wound. Anakin couldn't take the feeling of distaste from Obi-Wan anymore and turned away.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan ordered, his name like ice. Anakin met his eyes and this time his regret was clear. "I think you should sleep in your own bed tonight," Obi-Wan said lowly.

Anakin couldn't believe it. His fury returned and, really, why would he want to stay with Obi-Wan? With someone whose heart always belonged to another woman, another man, another place? He didn't care, he didn't understand, he'd never understand—

Anakin had strode up the stairs and crashed into his pillows before he realized he was crying.

Obi-Wan could hear Anakin sniffling from the other bedroom. There was a mere six inches between them, but Obi-Wan still felt the urge to bridge the gap. In the morning, he decided they'd talk. Anakin wasn't in the right headspace now, and Obi-Wan wouldn't be either if he saw those eyes again. Hatred. He thought he'd seen it for a moment. That, he couldn't bear, or believe. It was because of love that they fought, just as he did with Padmé. Wasn't it?

Anakin was quiet now. Obi-Wan made sure his distress was not as loud.