Festival
Part IV
As reluctant as Pooja had been to take a seat at the breakfast table, Anakin noticed that she was the first to stake out her spot in the living room for the gift exchange. Practically levitating from exuberance, her little body bounced in place as she sat cross-legged on the floor, watching the adults file slowly in around her. When she all but ignored her equally enthusiastic if slightly more reserved older sister plopping down beside her, Anakin knew he was still in her sights. So, it didn't surprise him in the least when her little voice called out excitedly to him.
"Uncle Ani!" she squealed, patting the carpet next to her. "Sit here!"
Without hesitation, Anakin strode across the room. He hadn't been able to indulge his niece's request before for fear of undermining parental wishes, but he was more than happy to acquiesce to her appeal now. As he folded himself next to her, Pooja beamed up at him, a smile he returned with equal happiness.
"Is it okay if Aunt Mé-Mé sits next to me too?" he asked.
"Well duuhhhh," Pooja drawled, fixing him with an expression that suggested he was being totally ridiculous with his request. "Aunts and uncles have to sit together. It's a rule."
Raising his eyebrows, Anakin smothered a laugh at Pooja's matter-of-fact declaration, then startled a little when Sola's voice cut suddenly across the room.
"Pooja!" she said sharply, throwing a pointed look at her youngest daughter. "What did I tell you about using that word?"
The little girl's righteous fire flickered, her frown appropriately cowed. "To not to," she mumbled.
With one stern eyebrow still raised, Sola moved off to help Padmé with the present distribution. Pooja gave him an embarrassed and shy, sideways glance. Gently bumping her shoulder with his elbow, Anakin leaned in conspiratorially.
"Don't worry. I get in trouble all the time for using words I'm not supposed to," he said, his voice low.
Pooja giggled at this before her attention was stolen away as Padmé placed one last gift on top of each of the piles in front of her nieces. Her eyes as big as saucers, she turned towards Ryoo, her previous bounce returning with renewed vigor. The two sisters jabbered animatedly, the gift exchange forefront in their minds, the seating arrangement of beloved aunts and uncles completely forgotten.
"Is this spot taken?" Padmé asked, nudging him with her knee. Even though she was already moving to sit down, Anakin patted the floor on his right invitingly, his eyes fixed on his wife the same way little Pooja's had been fixed on him.
"I've been informed that you are required to sit here."
It wasn't lost on him how Padmé sat a little closer than absolutely necessary, an observation that warmed him more thoroughly than his heaviest robe. Tucking herself into his side and leaning back against him snugly, she laughed softly, "Is that so?" and smoothed her skirt over her lap.
Noticing her mother approaching, Padmé looked up before Anakin could offer any further reply.
"Is there anything I can get for anyone? Anything anyone needs?" Jobal asked, surveying her family and wringing her hands. It was as if the thought of not having some busy work to do or a pot to fuss over was bringing his mother-in-law undue anxiety.
Earlier this spring, Anakin had gleaned that the matron of the Naberrie clan thrived in her caretaker role. Jobal's love language was food; it was her defining mission that anyone under her roof always had a full belly. That, and Anakin could sense a sort of zen-like contentment wash over her whenever she bustled about in the kitchen. That space of the home was Jobal's particular domain. Not even her daughter, previous monarch of the planet, had any right to rule there.
"Yes, Mom, I - we," Sola amended quickly, gesturing to all of the family members gathered, "all need you to sit." As if for emphasis, she plopped herself down rather dramatically next to Darred, being careful not to jostle the gifts at her feet. Despite her dry tone, Sola meant no obvious harm. Anakin was quickly learning that sarcasm was Sola's way of expressing emotion; the more she picked on a person, the deeper her love for them genuinely went.
Nodding once in acceptance, Jobal turned to find her place next to Ruwee, tsking a bit when she saw the gifts mounded before her presumed place in that way mothers do when they see any sort of fuss has been made on their particular behalf. She was almost to her seat, when she whirled about at a small yelp of alarm.
"Oh no! Uncle Ani has no presents!" Ryoo shrieked, eyes wide with appalment and dismay as she stared specifically at the conspicuously bare floor at Anakin's feet. Palms pressed flat against her cheeks, Pooja gasped loudly to underscore her sister's observation.
No one needed the Force to feel the room's vivacious merriment shift to a less festive, awkward tension.
"Oh, Padmé…" Jobal trailed off, one hand over her chest while her mouth floundered for the right words to soothe the situation. Her gaze flicked several times over Anakin, worry and angst spiraling forth from brown eyes almost the same hue as her daughter's.
Inhaling deeply, Padmé sat forward a bit to absolve her mother of unnecessary guilt when Anakin cut her off.
"Please," he said, his voice all genuine reassurance. "Don't think any more on it. Possession is forbidden for a Jedi, so you are actually doing me a favor." He raised his hand, politely halting Jobal's continued attempt to protest. "It would be hard to explain if I returned to the Temple with all of this in tow." He gestured to Pooja's mountain of presents.
Jobal frowned at him, still uncomfortable with her granddaughter's untimely pronouncement and uncertain how to interpret his conviction.
"Besides," Anakin continued, throwing his arm around Padmé's shoulders and pulling her to him. "You've already given me everything I have ever wanted."
Used to his romantic overtures and grand declarations, Padmé simply beamed back at him.
"Wow," Sola swooned. "No wonder she fell in love with you." Eyes darting to Darred, her mouth dipped into a scowl as she shoved her husband's shoulder in feigned offense. "How come you never say romantic things like that to me?"
"I did say things like that once," Darred replied, wryly. "Give them a few more years and a few children… the magic will fade."
Cuffing him lightly over his head, Sola scoffed before smiling and pulling a face at her husband. Darred smiled back at her, his grin suggesting their magic was anything but in danger of fading.
Padmé watched their exchange with interest. "I don't know about that, Darred." She quirked her head, casting an appraising look over her own husband. "Anakin wasn't really even trying with that one."
Darred glanced from her to his brother-in-law and back, indulging Padmé's remark with a raised eyebrow. "Go on."
"Do you know want to know the first thing Anakin ever said to me?" she asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Realizing where his wife's leading question was going, Anakin groaned loudly and made a show of burying his face in his hands.
"Are you an angel?"
The memory, by now relived an infinite number of times in her mind, still carried a fondness that had not faded, its edges still as crisp and preserved as any cherished holograph. Patting Anakin's knee to let him know she didn't mean her next words as lightly as she was about to deliver them, Padmé tossed Darred the ultimate punch line of her tease.
"He was ten."
Darred sputtered on his sip of caf, then, nodding genuinely impressed, lifted the mug to Anakin in a virtual toast from across the room. "Next time, when I don't know how to personalize her anniversary card," he said, tilting his head Sola's direction, "I'm calling you for help."
"It would be my pleasure," Anakin replied, bending a little at the waist in a mock bow. "I just require two weeks advance notice to consult on such things with Master Yoda," he deadpanned.
"Oh, Force's sake," Padmé half-laughed, half-groaned, though she couldn't suppress the smile still spread radiantly across her face. It thrilled her to no end to see Anakin getting along with everyone so swimmingly.
"Mom," Ryoo whined, unapologetically interrupting the adults' banter. "Can we open presents now?" Then, with a quick afterthought, added, "Please."
"Go ahead," Sola smiled, nodding her permission. Her two daughters squealed loudly with glee, their hands fastening to the closest presents to them and tearing wrapping flimsi. "Pay attention girls to who gave you what. You will be making thank you holos later."
Caught somewhere between her mother's command and her frenzied rush to open gifts, Pooja's little face warred between a petulant pout and anticipatory ecstasy.
As the rest of the family followed the children's lead – albeit in a more moderated and restrained manner – Anakin bumped elbows again with his niece, drawing her attention away from the sweater she held up with a somewhat perplexed and disappointed frown.
"You don't have to write me a thank you holo," he said, lowly, though not quietly enough to avoid being overheard.
"Watch it, Skywalker," Sola warned, her blue eyes aglow. "I said I liked you. Don't give me a reason to change my mind."
"Oh, don't worry," Anakin replied, blithely. "I already sent your thank you holo for last night's gift."
Instantaneously, Sola's face lit up brighter than his lightsaber's blade. Halfway through unwrapping the box in her lap, Padmé stilled., glancing at him somewhat nervously. When her father unexpectedly joined in the fray, Anakin realized, too little too late, he had unwittingly walked himself into a trap.
"So, Anakin," Ruwee said, clearing his throat firmly. "What color was Sola's present for Padmé this year?"
Mortified, Anakin whipped back to his wife to see her delicate features cringing empathetically.
"Sola has gotten me, um, a certain sort of gift every year since I turned eighteen," Padmé explained softly. She darted a mild glare at her sister across the room. "It's become something of a running joke now."
"I didn't know that," Anakin mouthed, shaking his head. Her eyes dancing, Padmé rolled her lips between her teeth, clearly amused but also not wanting to seem insensitive to his disquiet. The usually witty Jedi gaped, fumbling to smooth over his faux pas with his father-in-law.
"I didn't know that, sir," he said somewhat louder in earnest. Not many beings in the galaxy ever truly intimidated Anakin, but Ruwee Naberrie was fast climbing that elite list.
"Dear," Jobal chided, handing her husband another gift from his pile. "Go easy on him." She smiled warmly at Anakin which unwound some of the petrified heartstrings from their wooden hold. "He's only been your son-in-law for one solar cycle. He doesn't know your sense of humor yet."
Ruwee's stern look dissolved and he laughed heartily giving up the dour ruse. "I'm only kidding."
Anakin smiled tentatively back at him, nervousness still draped across his shoulders.
"So, Ruwee," Darred chimed in, "This means I'm now the favorite son-in-law right?"
"Tenuously," Ruwee gruffed back.
"Here, Ani," Padmé said, placing a present from her pile into his lap. "Open this one for me."
Grateful for the distraction, Anakin started in on the wrapping, but then stopped, sensing several pairs of eyes on him. Looking up warily, he took in the interested gazes watching him, before he narrowed his eyes.
"Uh, this isn't underwear too, is it?"
Ryoo shrieked again, this time with laughter; Pooja shook her head so hard her curls bounced like tiny brunette springs.
"That's from us!" she giggled. "Who gives underwear as a Festival present?" If Sola's gift-giving had turned into an inside family joke, clearly little Pooja was blissfully outside of it.
That still didn't stop Anakin from grumbling, "Your mother, apparently… Hey!" He grabbed at his ribs when Padmé shoved her elbow hard into his side. Though her delicate features were carefully arranged in warning, her eyes laughed at his grouchy answer.
"Oh, Padmé!" Sola gasped, drawing their attention. She stood up, holding a sweater dress of cream cashmere against herself and admiring the length of the garment as it unfolded to the floor. "It's gorgeous!" Nimbly, she picked her way across the room, and bent to hug Padmé in gratitude. "Thank you! Thank you!"
Padmé smiled radiantly up at Sola. "Did you see the boots yet?"
"Stop, Mé-Mé, you didn't!" Sola said, her happy smile widening even further with excitement. She scrambled back to her spot, sifting rabidly through packing flimsi until she surfaced with a pair of tall winter boots. Anakin had no eye for fashion, but even he could clearly see the craftsmanship and detail of the stitching in the brown leather before Padmé whispered the name of some famous designer in his ear. The name didn't mean anything to him, but it clearly meant something to Sola; she squealed loudly enough to rival her daughters' periodic eruptions of jubilance.
"I'm wearing these to the Lighting tonight!"
"I'm glad you like them," Padmé laughed. "Dormé made me get the same dress."
"The same color?" Sola asked. She was already shedding her slippers for her new boots.
"No," Padmé said, sending her sister a conspiratorial smirk of her own. "Mine is black."
Sola hummed a noncommittal noise, then threw a blithely casual look in Anakin's direction. Padmé winked and nodded in acknowledgement.
It was all so domestic to Anakin and he wanted to soak up every minute of the festivity and bliss. Padmé laughed when she opened the seasoning and spice set from her mother. Curated by several of Naboo's most renowned chefs, the collection featured herbs and blends unique to the planet; liekly to be used for meal preparations when she was in residence on Coruscant, Anakin suspected it was Jobal's way of ensuring Padmé would feel a little bit more at home while away from Naboo. The reason behind Padmé's mirth was made evident when Jobal opened her daughter's gift. Bestowed by the same company, Padmé had chosen a sampling of spices and herbs from a variety of Core Worlds to add to her mother's culinary arsenal.
"Like minds," Ruwee had said, watching his wife fawn over the Alderaanian oregano.
"Something tells me you'll benefit too, Papa," Padmé said. "Open yours next! Ah, Ryoo, sweetheart, can you save that one for last?"
The little girl frowned, but did as asked, moving her hands away from the largest present of her pile and settling on another. As Ruwee went to work obliging Padmé's request, Anakin turned to her.
"What's in the big one?"
"Something you inspired." Padmé smirked at him, mischievously. "I'm still deciding whether or not to tell Sola they came from you."
"Deciding on what?"
"Her reaction." Anakin narrowed his eyes at her with suspicion. Padmé shrugged before chastely kissing his cheek. "Don't worry, we have at least a few more minutes to live."
Ruwee pulled away the last piece of wrapping flimsi to reveal a sturdy set of leather gloves. Though retired from his full-time position as social worker and builder, Ruwee spent most of his free time tinkering in his wood-working shop, wearing through protective gear on the regular. The lightly lined gloves would not only help save his skin from minor slips with saws and chisels, but also would keep his arthritic joints warmer in the colder seasons.
"These will definitely buy me some more hours toiling away," Ruwee murmured. "Might even be helpful dealing with that blasted speeder."
Watching Ryoo and Pooja reach for their last present, Anakin sat up a little straighter, his curiosity over the gift he supposedly inspired waning when he heard Ruwee's off-hand comment.
"You have a speeder that's giving you trouble?" Anakin asked, his interest piqued.
Padmé stopped unwrapping her last present, and sat back to give the exchange her full attention. She had seen that look on her husband's face only a few times before, but knew Anakin was hearing the siren song of mechanical trouble. She grinned knowingly.
"Yeah, I took it in a few weeks back when the motivator started acting up," Ruwee said. "But now the damn thing won't even turn over, and Darred and I are stumped."
"The motivator?" Anakin said, frowning and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his bent knees, his gloved right fingers flexing as if itching to hold some invisible tool in their grasp. "Was it stalling on you?"
"Yes," Ruwee said. "It would run just fine for days, and then out of the blue, stall on me in the middle of the street, no rhyme or reason."
"At high speeds or low speeds?"
"Thank the goddesses, it was only ever at lower speeds," Ruwee replied.
"Uh huh," Anakin said, his blue eyes far away seeing gears and wires and pistons not evident to anyone but himself. "And then you said it's not turning over…" He blinked, then seemed to snap out of his apparent trance. "It's not the motivator," he said with such aplomb, it took everyone but Padmé by surprise. "Mind if I take a look?"
"Sure, go right ahead," Ruwee said, pleasantly perplexed and intrigued. The eldest Naberrie shot his other son-in-law a teasing look. "I think you're about to lose your title, Darred."
Studying Anakin with equal bemusement, Darred just shook his head. "This, I gotta see."
"All right, girls," Padmé interjected, placing a stilling hand on Anakin's bouncing knee. Her nieces' prior enthusiasm had seemingly transferred to him after the promising speeder enigma. "You can open the big box now."
An expectant stillness settled over the room as Ryoo and Pooja tore into their last present. Several laughs punctuated the ecstatic squealing of the two recipients as wrapping fell away to reveal what Padmé had been wary might land her in hot water with her sister. As soon as Anakin recognized the gift for what it was, he understood why Padmé had said he had been partly inspirational for this particular present.
The boxes contained a build-your-own astromech kit, that – after Anakin quickly skimmed the bullet pointed features on the side – seemed to offer not only basic droid programming, but also several customizable options as well. Ryoo's droid boasted a purple-and-white color scheme, while Pooja's R2 was decidedly yellow-and-silver. Suddenly, Anakin sorely regretted leaving R2-D2 behind, intensely wondering what the blue-and-silver droid would have thought of these unorthodox counterparts. Instead, Anakin settled for Sola's reaction.
"Padmé Naberrie!"
Try as she might, Padmé couldn't quite pull off the chagrinned expression she was trying to sell.
"It's actually Padmé Naberrie Skywalker," she corrected, cheekily. "And it was partially Anakin's idea."
Anakin's jaw dropped in shock.
"Excuse me, Milady," he retorted. "I had no idea what was even in those boxes until just now."
Padmé shrugged casually, pretending not to feel the wrath of his or Sola's stares. "That's probably true…" Anakin snorted indignantly. "But like I said, you were very much the inspiration so you can shoulder some of the blame as well."
Anakin scowled at her, the glare dissolving instantly when Padmé smiled prettily at him.
"Where in the hells of Otoh Gunga am I supposed to keep these?" Sola interrupted. Pooja gasped loudly at her mother's swearing, but Sola waved off the distraction to stay on mission. She was fighting to keep her own smile off of her face. "Not to mention, neither Darred nor I are adept at droid building…"
"I can help them," Anakin volunteered. Pleased with her husband's offer, Padmé turned a satisfied smile to her sister, one that disappeared in good fun when Anakin spoke again. "If it'll absolve me of all blame and association."
Sola winked at him.
"Deal, you're off the hook," she said. "You, little miss…" Sola paused before continuing her teasing torment of Padmé, a thought suddenly occurring to her. She turned back to Anakin with a suspicious look. "As long as you don't get too fancy with your programming. Padmé's told me what you've done to her R2 unit."
Placing a hand over his chest in feigned innocence, Anakin sat back and huffed. Eyes wide to sell the offended act, he exclaimed, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not that gifted." He slid his eyes mischievously towards his wife.
"Okay, okay, okay," Jobal spoke up. She stood up, drawing all attention to her before the innuendos could devolve any further. "I'm going to check on the shaak roast, and it sounds like the men have some work to do in the garage." Despite her chastising words, her being resonated warmth and mirth. "Especially if the new favorite son-in-law is going to fix the speeder and build two droids before the Lighting."
"Ouch, Jobal! You too?" As if stabbed in the heart by her words, Darred clutched his chest, flailed and fell over backwards onto the floor.
Laughing heartily with the rest of his family, Anakin nodded to himself. Yes, he most definitely could get used to this.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed the fluff fest! Fair warning, the more serious moments are coming, but I'll do my best to intersperse them with more sweetness and fun. It is a holiday fic after all. ;p Reviews always appreciated.