So basically, patientalien and I finally figured out a way for two plot lines we've been trying to turn into full-fledged 'fics in their own right to coalesce: The first is the idea of a mission where Anakin and Obi-Wan must pretend to be married (much to the Council's sniggering delight, of course); the second is the two celebrating Pride in some fashion ('tis the season!). The end result is quite possibly one of my most favorite things we've ever written together, although to be honest, I say that a lot, so maybe don't hold me to it. But still, we had a really, really good time plotting this out together, and we're excited to share it with the Internet at large; that is, if you can get past the paper-thin plot and general silliness of the ideas themselves and, well, I'll shut up. (THERE IS ALSO A SOUNDTRACK! [See my LJ for more details.])

Summary: On the males-only planet of Analbeadla (yes, we really went there), Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi must pose as a married couple to ensure the continued safety of the system's famed, annual Pride Festival. This takes place before the end of season four of Clone Wars, but after the "Deception" arc. Along with Anakin/Obi-Wan, there are hints of Anakin/Padme and Bail/Obi-Wan. Warning: Non-graphic attempted rape; mentions of casual alcohol/drug consumption. Analbeadla is ours (OBVIOUSLY), though Chandrila is not ... though uh, TBH we played really fast and loose with some of the canon details about it, so take it with a grain of salt, i.e.: Wookieepedia is still your first line of defense in fact-checking kthx. Will be posted in three parts. Story and chapter titles all come from the infamous "mawwiage" speech from The Princess Bride, mostly because we couldn't get a pun involving Pride and Prejudice to quite work (and believe me, we tried, OH HOW WE TRIED). Also, this is dedicated in good humor to some of our RPing/Stra Wras buddies over on Tumblr, including Fass, Mel, Rin, and Padme Amidala/queenhandmaidensenator, who is a real person, what? Rated R/M.

Part I: Obi-Wan and Anakin do not take to the details of their latest joint mission with any particular finesse.

Marriage is What Brings Us Together Today

Part I: Marriage is a Dream Within a Dream

That several members of the Jedi Council were grinning when Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker entered the circular chamber where some of the most important decisions about the Order were made was unsettling, to say the least. "Good afternoon," Obi-Wan greeted, stopping in the middle of the room and bowing, his feet aligned neatly with the floor pattern. Anakin dutifully stopped beside him and inclined his head, albeit a tad more warily.

Master Windu, often one of the more stoic presences on the Council to contend with, regarded them with a look that bordered on gleeful. "Good morning," he rumbled, his fingers steepled under his chin, his eyes mysteriously mirthful. "You're probably wondering why you've been called here today." They both waited. "We've just received a request for Jedi security detail on Analbeadla in the Outer Rim."

"Where is that, precisely?" Obi-Wan queried.

"Near Chandrila," Windu responded promptly, as though he had been expecting this very question. "In fact, you might say it's Chandrila's brother system; as you know, Chandrila is a planet run by a single tribe of humanoid females who reproduce by self-fertilizing and then by laying their own eggs. Their offspring is also entirely female."

"I didn't know any of that," Anakin muttered, and Obi-Wan nudged him sharply in the arm.

"You might know it if you had attended a composite of more than ten percent of your Galactic Geography classes as a Padawan," Obi-Wan cut in, but a withering glance darkening Windu's disturbingly cheerful face made him quickly contrite. "My apologies, Master."

Windu just 'hmmph'-ed. "Anyways, Analbeadla is similar to Chandrila in that its population consists entirely of one gender, though in this case, they're all males. Many citizens of Analbeadla are not necessarily native to the system, though they do submit to rigorous vetting in order to receive right-to-work benefits and local aid and such." Windu paused and cleared his throat a little. "In any case, the system pulls in a lot of off-world attention from and during its annual Pride Festival, which lasts three rotations."

"I've heard of that," Anakin cut in again. "It's basically the Outlander on a weekend-long bender."

"Skywalker, stop annotating my notes," Windu snapped, and Anakin exhaled sharply through his nose, pouting a little, but piped down. "ANYWAYS," Windu continued, "The Analbeadlaean Queen is worried that in the midst of the Clone Wars, the celebration will attract Separatist attention. They are hoping for a pair of Jedi to see the event through to make sure that doesn't happen. That's where the two of you come in," he finished.

Anakin remained silent. However, Obi-Wan looked confused. "Forgive me, Master," he ventured, "but did you say 'Queen'? I thought the Analbeadlaeans were all males?"

Windu pursed his lips. "Correct. The title is something of a misnomer. The head of Analbeadla's government is male, and he gets elected every few years by popular vote, but his title is Queen of Analbeadla."

Obi-Wan still looked perplexed. "But ... why?"

Windu sighed a little. "The thing is, Analbeadlaean officials are ... flamboyant. Their habits of dress, their mannerisms, are quite ..."

"Queen-y?" Anakin supplied helpfully, intrigued by the Vapaad Master's sudden discomfort.

Windu sat back in his chair. "Quite." The bemusement on his face began to peak again at the corners of his mouth. "So you will be representing the Jedi Order on this mission. However, Queen Flameout is worried that a noticeable law enforcement presence might disturb event patrons. Ergo, you two will be in disguise." He paused. "And before you ask, no, the Queen's real name is not, in fact, Flameout. Analbeadlaean rulers attain a title of their choosing upon taking the throne."

Self-preservation seemed to be staying both Obi-Wan's and Anakin's tongues from asking too many more clarifying questions. Still: "What sort of disguises, Master?" Obi-Wan attempted.

Windu raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad you asked. After consulting with the Council," he began, gesturing at those in attendance, including a faintly smiling Ki-Adi Mundi and Kit Fisto, who waggled a friendly tentacle at them, "it has been decided that you, Obi-Wan, and Skywalker will pose as partners attending the festival on vacation."

It took a moment for this to sink in. "Partners," Obi-Wan mused. "Do we own a business together?"

"No," Windu said, and paused. "You'll be ... betrothed. To one another. It's a common practice on-planet." He ignored (or rather, silently relished) the slowly-dawning horror on Obi-Wan's face and rattled off more details to his at last receptive audience: "The Council can supply you both with some festival-appropriate clothing. You'll also probably want something to visually symbolize your union - most couples wear matching rings."

"I ... huh." For once, Obi-Wan was at a loss for words. Eventually, however, he managed to put forth a more eloquent response: "Master, with all due respect, are we absolutely sure that the Separatists will care about the occasional exploits of a, for all intents and purposes, pleasure planet?"

"A gay pleasure planet," Anakin chimed in.

"Shut up, Anakin," Obi-Wan groused.

"I don't think that's something you should say to your husband, Obi-Wan," Anakin scoffed.

"For the love of the Republic, will both of you shut your karking mouths? You're ruining this for all of us." Once more, the room fell uncomfortably silent. "Do what you need to do for the sake of the mission," Windu continued. "Come up with fake identities, make sure it all, ahem, looks legitimate, and attend all of the major events of the weekend. Report back with any developments. Standard operating procedure, you understand." The mirth was back, and with it, Obi-Wan's general disappointment in the way his life had turned out thus far.

This feeling was further compounded by Anakin slapping him jovially on the back. "I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we won't let you down, Master Windu." He attempted to link arms with his former Master, but Obi-Wan, overtly annoyed, shrugged him off. "You're gonna have to do better than that to pull off being married to me, Master," Anakin added, watching Obi-Wan move slightly away and grumpily cross his arms.

Windu's shoulders were barely suppressing his snickers. "Much as I hate to admit it, Skywalker is right." He made a 'shoo'-ing motion suddenly. "Now, go. Keep Analbeadla free to celebrate Pride any way it wishes. May the Force be with you." To his credit, he was very nearly successful at avoiding any outright guffaws until just before the door closed behind the two Jedi Knights.

Ahsoka Tano checked her wrist chrono for the eighth or ninth time that morning, resisting the urge to tap her foot impatiently, mostly because it was a pointless gesture without an audience. Her Master was adamant about early-morning workout sessions whenever they were at the Temple for reasons she was not entirely clear on - he wasn't exactly a naturally early riser, though she suspected he enjoyed exercising at dawn because his impressive insomnia kept him up most nights anyways - and this morning, he was late.

She was just about to invoke the tried-and-true "fifteen minute rule" and go about her day sans-workout when Anakin appeared, already looking rather sweaty and unkempt; that he was shirtless, his forehead and non-metal wrist adorned with deep red sweatbands, his boots replaced with nondescript white gym shoes, did not help matters, as it implied that he had had time to change clothing and that this was still the end result. "'Bout time," she commented, wincing as he passed her and she caught a whiff of what smelled like a full distillery oozing from his pores. "Holy kriff, you smell awful," she complained, waving a hand in front of her face. It didn't help much. "What have you been doing all night?"

Anakin shrugged, setting up the stereo with their usual workout mix. "Method acting," he replied simply, and hit 'play'. A somewhat-offensive, slangy pop song blared from hidden speakers in the gym's walls, and Ahsoka sighed. No matter how many times she'd requested the music selection be varied ("Can't we at least do crunches to something that isn't vaguely racist?" was apparently asking too much), Anakin insisted on the same rotation every time; something, he assured her, was one of the perks of being a Master. "Me and Obi-Wan are leaving on a mission this afternoon."

Ahsoka fell into step beside him as they began the cardio warm-up. "Well, what am I supposed to do, then?" she asked, almost gagging as Anakin's movements sent another wave of booze-smell her way.

Shrugging again, Anakin clumsily adjusted his movements to better match hers; he obviously wasn't at the top of his game this morning. "Study extra," he suggested eventually. "Work with younglings. I don't know, I'm sure the Council will give you something to do."

Ahsoka didn't really like the sound of any of that, from working with younglings - too sticky, she decided; so far, her one foray into giving back to the pre-Padawan community had only left her with an overwhelming urge to whack one of the smart-mouthed little buggers upside the head with her 'sabers - to her Master going on a mission that he apparently needed to prepare for by getting piss-drunk. "Why can't I come with you?" she challenged.

"It's not for you," he replied shortly, and she growled a little.

The music changed and the tempo increased. Ahsoka fell easily into the faster-paced movements, but Anakin was struggling. "Remember the rule, Master," she chirped between jumping jacks. "We get to stop when you throw up!" It was a rule that had been developed by Anakin, to push them both harder - if he vomited from the exertion, that meant, to him, they'd worked hard enough. It usually took several hours, but today, he already looked decidedly green, and Ahsoka wasn't going to let the opportunity to scrimp pass her by.

"Not gonna happen!" Anakin gasped out, but only moments later, he emptied his stomach contents onto the floor. Quickly, Ahsoka placed her finger aside her nose, silent code for 'not it,' having no desire to help clean up her Master's mess. After a beat or two, Anakin noticed and grunted. "Ugh, I think the mop is still covered in my barf from last week," Anakin groaned, but stumbled towards the small custodial closet across the room nonetheless.

As she watched him clean up his own sick, Ahsoka took the opportunity to remain still. "So come on, why are you taking Obi-Wan and not me? I thought it was important for me to learn everything I can from you via observation."

"It is." Anakin's head bobbed a little as he painstakingly swirled the last remnants of his vomit around. "But this is what the Council wanted - and as you know, we NEVER question the Council." He began laughing at his own 'joke,' but it ended with him gagging on what was probably another near-mouthful of throw up and he stopped abruptly, swallowing hard. "Anyways, it is what it is. Do what you're told and don't get snippy, Snips."

"Don't call me that, Skyguy."

She watched him levitate the yet-unwashed mop back into its closet. His hands free, he made a cutting motion with his fingers near her left montral. "Snip, snip, Snips."

"Ugh." She ducked away from the offending hand motion until Anakin stopped. "So what, is it something where they don't trust you to do the talking, so they need Master Kenobi?"

"Nah, it's not that." Anakin picked up a small set of blue hand weights again, and then used the Force to reset the offensive musical track. Ahsoka sighed a little. "It's Pride weekend on Analbeadla," he explained briefly, and then pointed at Ahsoka's own hand weights until she begrudgingly picked them up. "No girls allowed. Obi-Wan and I are gonna pretend to be partners."

Ahsoka blinked. "Partners, like you're both businessmen or ..." The realization was swift. "Oh. Ha, I bet Master Obi-Wan is cursing the Force for this one."

"He'll grin and bear it," Anakin said absently, ignoring how this seemed to make Ahsoka giggle harder. In truth, the upcoming subterfuge did not bother him all that much. Perhaps, after pretending to be a slave trader to infiltrate the Zygerrians, aligning himself romantically with the man who had been the most formative part of his world for the past decade or so seemed, as his former friend Tru Veld used to say, like a piece of mujaberry cake. He already loved Obi-Wan, and he'd never been all that great at tamping down his feeling of attachment anyways, so it seemed like the best of both worlds.

Still, everyone else's reaction to the mission thus far had rankled him. Obi-Wan had remained unnecessarily grumpy after they'd left the Council chambers, and Anakin had decided to forego the usual last-ditch effort to visit with Padme, opting instead for a night of slight debauchery and more than a little alcohol in the Orange District. The morning hangover was reminiscent of his days as a Padawan, to be sure, but all the same, he wasn't sneaking back into his and Obi-Wan's apartment just before his Master had finished morning meditation. Exercise was exercise however he sliced it, and he was a Knight and a General for the Grand Army of the Republic now. He didn't have to answer to Obi-Wan, and he didn't need to be made to feel guilty for his choices, or for not feeling more conflicted about the precautions that needed to be taken for this latest mission.

In the end, it was just like a thousand other missions, and anyways, if Obi-Wan could justify faking his own death and selling out Anakin's emotional devastation in response to it for the greater good, he could withstand this. For his part, Anakin would work to not feel offended that to Obi-Wan, having to pretend to be legally married to his former Padawan was just as much a sacrifice of his dignity as being beaten by slaver goons, or temporarily assuming the facade of some dick bounty hunter. He could handle that, he decided, and began moving with renewed vigor through his workout. Beside him, Ahsoka seemed to notice and stepped up her pace, as well. When the song had finished, he immediately started it over. "Again," he intoned, and Ahsoka moaned in protest, but he just smirked. "Faster, more intense!" he declared, and his apprentice begrudgingly acquiesced.

"Thank you for doing this," Obi-Wan proffered, watching Bail hunt around in a small, intricate-looking wooden box containing a number of expensive-looking pieces of jewelry: Cufflinks, a choker, a few rings.

"My pleasure," Bail intoned, eventually tugging out the least fancy-looking of the rings, a silver-colored band inlaid with small green jewels. "This one kind of matches your eyes," he smiled, and Obi-Wan groaned, albeit good-naturedly. Warily, he watched Bail traverse the short distance between them and lower himself on one knee. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," the Senator grinned, brandishing the ring; Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "Will you marry me?"

"That depends," Obi-Wan shrugged, cocking his head. "Can you keep your pants on during a fancy Senate function where wine is being served?"

"Is that a deal-breaker?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "It should be; and yet, this is what I get to put up with, pretending to be betrothed to Anakin for the next three days." He watched Bail stand and briefly dust himself off, and then held out his palm for the ring. "In any case, I sincerely appreciate your assistance in this latest subterfuge. Apparently, that's my specialty these days."

Bail just 'hmmm'-ed. "Is Anakin going to need a ring, too?"

"He says he can get one elsewhere," Obi-Wan supplied, fitting the borrowed piece around the appropriate finger. "So I assume that means he's going to broggle Senator Amidala once or twice before we ship out and slip some bauble or another into his pocket when he's done."

Bail outright grinned. "'Broggle,' eh? Haven't heard that one in a while."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "My apologies. He's not only stolen my Knighthood, he's absolutely wrecked my vocabulary." He held up his hand, wiggling his ring finger a little. "How do I look?"

"Very nice." The cheeky smile on Bail's face faded into a soft sincerity. "You know, I'm not a Jedi, but the next time you need someone to go to brunch with, you can sidestep Anakin's terrible table manners altogether, you know."

The implication made Obi-Wan's own lips curl upwards a little. "It would be nice to spend a meal with someone who knows which fork is for salad - or at the very least, uses any fork at all to eat their salad." They both chuckled. "Anyways, Senator, thank you again. I'll return this in one piece, I promise."

"Of course, Master Jedi." Bail's gaze was fond, perhaps more so than Obi-Wan should have been comfortable with. That was his typical modus operandi these days, however, it seemed: It hadn't been very long since Anakin had been Knighted and then promptly battered down with an apprentice of his own; and while Ahsoka had turned out to be quite good for him, and even though it was turnabout as fair play, considering Obi-Wan's own non-existent Knighthood, the fact remained that Anakin still acted very, very young sometimes.

Still, this war had weathered them both significantly. The result occasionally gave Obi-Wan whiplash: One moment, Anakin could be sucking down drinks and dancing debauchedly on tables on a weekend bender while on furlough, and the next, he was almost single-handedly strong-arming another victory against the Separatists for the Republic. The two halves did not always meet smoothly, and one day, Obi-Wan feared that they would fail to come together at all, and so he tried to stand back and let Anakin make his own mistakes, while simultaneously trying not to take it personally when his former Padawan lashed out at him. They were friends now, good friends, and he knew that such a strong friendship mandated a lowering of his usual inhibitions regarding attachments. Anakin needed to be reminded often that he was loved, and most days, Obi-Wan was all right being the one to do the reminding. He knew that his recent subterfuge as Rako Hardeen had seemed like the worst sort of betrayal of Anakin's emotions, had known it as soon as the idea had floated into his head during that fateful Council meeting all those weeks ago. The reactions of Mace Windu and Master Yoda had confirmed that tenfold.

"Are you sure?" Windu had said at the time, and his fingers had even stopped drumming momentarily against the arm of his chair. "The boy will not take it well when he learns the truth," he'd noted dubiously, and Obi-Wan had agreed. Anakin hadn't taken it well at any juncture, in fact, and that was the point: Anakin's emotions were both volatile and incredibly predictable, and if Obi-Wan had to do it again, he would still attribute the mission's success largely to the spectacle of the young man, looming and muted in grief at his funeral service. He would still do it again, for the sake of the Republic, because he was a Jedi and so was Anakin and that was what Jedi did, and so even if he didn't particularly like the duty that had been foisted upon him at any given moment, even if a mission might skirt dangerously close to how he really felt or what he had been having trouble articulating as of late, it was not for him to pick and choose.

He must have appeared to have made some sort of decision - perhaps he'd squared his shoulders a little more - because Bail was watching him curiously. "Just bring yourself back in one piece," the other man said, and Obi-Wan nodded, intentionally keeping his distance today. Bail, ever the diplomat, certainly noticed, but kept things lighthearted: "And you know, if you happened to acquire some small trinket or souvenir and had nowhere to put it, I could probably give it a good home," he joked, and Obi-Wan allowed himself a genuine smile. They parted amicably, and when Obi-Wan ventured outside of 500 Republica anew, the adornment on his hand sparkled tantalizingly in the mild Coruscant sunlight.