AN:

Ivy – Aww I'm so sorry! Please don't hate me :D If it's any consolation I was so nervous about that chapter. I'm nervous about the next few chapters LOL (Although this is probably not comforting :D)

Cheire – Yess as you said he has trouble opening up to her about bad news.

Sunmoonwindandstars – Someone is paying close attention to every detail and I REALLY appreciate that :D Thank you! And yes Anakin hasn't opened up about his WHOLE past to Padme.

All The Right Moves

Do you think I'm special?

Do you think I'm nice?

Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?

Between the noise you hear

And the sounds you like

Are we just sinking in the ocean of faces?

It can't be possible, that rain can fall

Only when it's over our heads

Anakin was swarmed with his jumble of thoughts, scrambling for reason or relief, doing his best to arm himself against doubt, shame, and a deafening uncertainty. Padme was making her way around the coffee table – this was her third or fourth trip. She was going on and on about work but Anakin couldn't make out the words. He was too busy mulling over his own ramblings in his head. He can't retain any of it. And then he hears the tonality of Padme's voice ascend at the end of her sentence - a question.

"What do you think?"

"Huh?" Anakin looks up at her. He is caught in a web of bewilderment, and she realizes his attention was elsewhere.

"Baby you haven't heard a word I said!" She whined. Her eyes settle on him curiously. The lines on his face show his expression is more serious than he intends it to be. "Something wrong?"

He was not going to let the reverberations of the unsolicited encounter at Chewie's bar interfere with what's front of him. Nothing, not Miraj, not anyone, can get in the way of his happiness. He refuses to give way to suffering.

"No." He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back his fringe like the act would grant him patience and focus. "I'm sorry – I'm with you."

Padme sunk onto the couch beside him, like her puppet strings were cut off, as she circles around a collection of ideas, inventions. "I might have to do something a little. . .unorthodox. Take a risk... I don't know, maybe you're rubbing off on me."

He drops his head sideways on the backrest of the couch and smirks at her, "Every night."

"Anakin." She groans, rubbing her eyes, tired. It wasn't that she didn't find his quips amusing but the stress of work saturated her thoughts.

He bends a knee up on the sofa as he turns to face her. "I'm listening." He assures, massaging her shoulder, an apologetic gesture. "What are we talking about?"

"The park!" She exclaims, refusing to let the corners of her mouth flip upward at the sight of his glowing face, wicked and wanton.

"Right. Well, I say go for it." He says effortlessly. "Joseph Campbell said follow your bliss. Not the herd. He also said some of us have to go down the dark and devious path to reach enlightenment. Or something like that." He leans in to nuzzle into her, his teeth grazing the shell of her ear slowly.

"I don't know about dark and devious." There was a pang of resistence in her voice.

"Well if you're new to it, I'll volunteer as your chaperone."

She did her best to ignore the flare of heat in his eyes and refocuses her attention on her mental task. "I just don't get it. It shouldn't be this hard."

"You always do that to me." With a mischievous grin, he pulls her in for a hug.

Padme shook her head, pulling away from him. "You know if you're not gonna take me seriously then–"

"–I'm sorry." He insisted. Before she can get up from the couch, he takes her hands and brings her back down to him. "Lay it on me."

She glares at him and his salacious comments. He chuckles, innocently raising two careful hands, a promise to behave, extricating himself from her stern rebuke.

"I mean present your case." He elaborates; his eyes flashing with trouble, which she already knew he was. She releases a tight breath, not wanting to laugh at his crudeness but that dangerous smile gets her every time.

"They don't like the idea of my client attached to this project." She began. "But this is a great opportunity for the entire town. I just wish they weren't so up in arms about having Scintel's name on it when she's the one who made this all possible and she's willing to pour billions into it."

Shit. He knew it would come up sometime, but he didn't expect the words to carry such a sting his way. The park would be in Scintel's hands. If that's not poetic injustice, what is?

Anakin hesitated. He sees the flaw in his remedy, in trying to take his mind off things by losing himself in Padme. He just wanted to be with her. He wanted the closeness – to know nothing can get in the way of her being his. He was tenacious about it – when he's inside her, he is floating away from wandering thoughts, the painful, scary, undetermined. He is revitalized in her womb, new life is breathed into him through her kisses, and her touch provides a great upswell of bravery in him. And he wanted that escape, that strength – to block out the outside world and nest together in their sacred peace.

The thought of Scintel working with Padme, knowing there was a ticking time bomb that she could drop at any moment had him restless with dread. He couldn't lose Padme.

"Padme... Maybe you should let Dorme take this one."

"What?"

"She. . .grew up here." Anakin had trouble stringing words together. "She knows how things work in Tatooine. She can handle it if things go awry."

Condemnation, confrontation, and disappointment spiked through Padme. She was slipping into anger, annoyance. "And I can't?"

"No, I don't mean that, I... Padme, you can't trust everyone." He shrugged, a sorrowful hand coasted along her thigh, comfortingly. "They may say and even act like they're doing a good thing but half the time it's all performative. More often than not, gestures like these are just another tax write-off. It's not about doing the right thing; it's an ego boost – or worse, a reputation boost."

Padme moved away and got up from the couch, making his hand slip off her leg. "Okay first of all, just because someone has money, doesn't automatically make them a bad person. And second, this may come as a shock to you, but I know how to do my job."

She starts another journey to the other side of the coffee table.

Anakin got up, suppressing a groan, letting it evolve into a remorseful sigh as he rubs his forehead with eyes closed. "I know – just forget I said anything. What do I know about acquiring land anyway." He swung his hands down to his sides carelessly.

"Clearly more than me." She said, arms folded, tongue-in-cheek.

Anakin looked at her longingly, repentant, wanting to shake off and negate whatever caused the distance between them. He wants to rekindle and confirm their closeness with a need to ensure its permanence.

"Padme. I know you're good at your job. You know that. Everybody knows." He sighs, gazing at her. He can't help but admire her beauty even when she's mad. The way her doe eyes become defiant, how she bites the inside of her cheek in vexation, making her mouth small with round rosy-pink lips.

He offered a sexy half-smile, one she didn't want to succumb to it but then the added texture of his sonorous voice sowed deep within. He pools together every trick in the book to get out of the dog house. Distract, flirt, anything to just get her in his arms again — an aphrodisiac is the best way to avoid the fear of a storm. All the bad stuff will go away.

With a subtle jerk of his finger, he murmurs suggestively, "Come here."

That voice was going to be the end of her – low, raspy but soft and pleasing. It has her taking plodding steps towards him. His hands wander her waist. His lips touch hers gently before his kisses sink into the soft flesh of her cheek. She is then chased by tingles as his mouth trails down her neck and the gust of air from his mouth moves her hair. It makes her fingers curl like vines around the back of his t-shirt.

He makes his way back up to kiss her lips again.

He softly brushes the tip of her nose with his. "I'm just trying to look out for you." He whispers, and the simple touch of his hand stroking her arm sends a soothing shiver straight through her spine.

Padme makes her way through the sandy car park. It's a quiet day; there aren't many sunbathers or rowdy hooligans. Just a couple of benches occupied and Kitster sitting in his usual spot near the lavish cars.

"Hey," She joins him on the bench and is immediately met with Kitser's warm, respectful smile.

"It's been a while!" He said invitingly.

"Yeah, work's been busy." She plops her handbag beside her.

"That's good, isn't it?" He asks and she nods in response.

She takes a glance around the park. "Where's Anakin?"

"He's on the phone somewhere." Kitster let his arm hang off the bench backrest as he turned to face her. "He told me about the weekend with your folks."

Padme almost laughs at the whole ordeal. "Yeah. I think they're coming around. They just haven't quite got past the whole race cars and danger thing."

She knew her parents weren't exactly thrilled about her "whirlwind wedding" as they called it. But they had enough faith in their daughter to accept her choices, even if they thought this particular choice still swings between a mistake and a benefit, never quite settling on either side.

"Give them time." Kitster allayed her concerns. "When I first met Anakin I thought, arrogant, reckless, and crippled by childish pride. And now. . .well, he's still all those things." He joked.

"You know this is his wife you're talking to." She warned teasingly and Kitster shot her a grin.

"But... Underneath all that, he has a big heart that he's just fierce about protecting... " Kitster paused. People liked Anakin, at the bar, at the sand park, despite his flaws, because he was real; he was honest. He doesn't put on an act; he always said what he felt was true, even if people didn't like hearing it. You never worried for a second if your back was turned to him. He didn't stab. He'd look you in the eye if he drew his sword.

Looking at Padme, Kitster could see her heart too – it was an intelligent, emotional key that freed Anakin and withered a lot of the anguish he carried around for so long. She took some of the burden and somehow managed to make it fizzle away. "You're good for him. You calm him down."

Padme smiled back at him appreciatively. He saw the fulfillment on her face. He knew she had helped Anakin, and he was grateful for that, but looking at her now, he could see Anakin had helped her too.

"Look," He continued, an honest voice but kind in timbre. A tone that gives truth while alleviating what can make the truth heavy. "–some people may never get past race cars and danger, but. . .I'm of the opinion that every man needs to have a little danger in him. Otherwise, what will you do when the real monsters come along?"

Let's paint the picture of the perfect place

They've got it better than when anyone's told you

I know we got it good, but they got it made

I know things are looking up, but soon they'll take us down

"How'd you get this number?" Anakin hissed as he walked himself in circles, phone to his ear, trying to control every petulant breath.

"Oh Anakin it's not like you're hard to track down." Miraj chuckled. "You leave a mess everywhere you go."

Her lack of courtesy burrows into his skin like a caricatured itch.

"Stay away from me." He growled quietly. "Stay away from my wife."

He's connected the dots. She thought to herself. About time.

"Ah yes, your wife." Miraj's voice was slick, almost slimy. "Nice girl. Very pretty. Idolizes you. It would almost be a shame for her to find out her perfect husband isn't so perfect."

She could hear, through the phone, Anakin's frustrations squeezed out of every pained exhale. The lack of control over the situation had him seething with such vitriol.

"You wouldn't."

"No?"

"You would've done it already." He said gruffly.

She wanted to laugh. He had resorted to calling her bluff. He wanted to believe what he said. She could often be a carbon contradiction. She had no purpose; she didn't have the guts to have purpose. She hid behind a cocky veneer, a false bravery. She takes the dreams of others because she can't dream. She dissuades others from meaning because she can't find any. She plays with fate too much because nothing awaits her if she stops.

"I think you know from my marriage, I'm willing to play the long game."

"...You talk, and you don't come out looking too good either."

"Yeah," Her voice was dripping with apathy. "–but I have nothing to lose. Unlike you."

Anakin swallowed hard, past the dryness in throat. The threat of her words was on the verge of becoming a laceration – it was only a matter of time. No point in beating around the bush.

"What do you want?"

Miraj let him sit in the nail-biting silence for a bit. "It's simple, really. I gave my toy away for someone else to play with. And now I want it back."

All the right friends in all the right places

So yeah, we're going down

They've got

All the right moves and all the right faces

So yeah, we're going down

One Republic - All The Right Moves