Part V

"Well, I'm out!"

Padmé twisted from the sink, the last dish from breakfast left to be washed still sudsy in her hands, to see Sola slump into the chair she had brought with her from the dining room, and collapse across the island. Used to her sister's theatrics, Padmé offered no inquiry of concern or explanation, instead mirroring her mother's simultaneous eye roll and smile of solidarity.

After a minute of silence, Sola revived herself, peeking up to see her less-than-impressed audience waiting for the actress to continue her scene.

"I managed to get the exteriors together…," Sola elaborated, narrowing her eyes at Padmé, "…though barely, only to get out the programming manual…" With a dramatic inhale, she paused to assess that she still had their undivided attention and continued, "… and watch twenty-five chapters load – at which point I said, 'Girls!'" Sola raised her hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "'This is a job for your Uncle Ani' and I left."

Sola's palms fell to the countertop with an audible slap, punctuating the end of her diatribe.

Exchanging another amused glance with her mother, Padmé returned to rinse her final cutlery customer as Jobal stirred her simmering pot of nosna fish stew. Despite the show of nonchalance, Padmé couldn't help herself, throwing a tease over her shoulder. "Oh, I guarantee Anakin won't use the manual at all."

"That confident, are we?"

She could practically feel Sola's skeptical stare boring a hole in her back.

"Seeing as he built my protocol droid when he was nine," Padmé quipped. "I think he can handle two toy astromechs."

"And the broken speeder all before the Lighting?" Sola clicked her tongue. "I dunno, Sis, it's been over an hour already and I haven't heard a…"

Just then, the distinct rumble of a speeder purring to life sounded beneath their feet. Jobal and Sola bolted for the kitchen window, flanking Padmé as all three women stretched to their tiptoes, peering down into the courtyard below.

Darred's mop of dark hair appeared first, his face painted with buoyant exuberance. With a whoop, they watched him high-five an equally ecstatic Ruwee as Anakin drove the still happily running speeder into view. When her husband leapt over the speeder's edge into an avalanche of male celebratory commotion, there was no containing the proud smile that stole across Padmé's face.

"Well, that'll teach me to cool my thrusters," Sola muttered. "I'll never doubt Anakin ever again."

"Speaking of Anakin…" Jobal said, meandering back to the stovetop. "Will this be okay, or should I make him something else for lunch?" Fret creasing her brow, she held up a ladle of the steaming stew.

"Oh, he's not picky, Mom," Padmé assured her. "Anakin will eat anything you put in front of him. He'll be ravenous when they come back in."

If there was one thing that could make Anakin forget about his insatiable appetite, it was mechanical trouble. Well, Padmé thought to herself, mechanical trouble and one other… activity. Several times during their honeymoon, Anakin had tried voraciously to convince her that actual sustenance was completely optional and not in fact a necessity for a Jedi. He had almost succeeded.

Padmé shivered, the memories suddenly licking fire along her skin, and wafted fragrant steam towards her face. "Mmmm, smells fantastic," she said, hoping to hide the heat blooming in her cheeks.

Jobal beamed despite the hint of worry still shining in her eyes, but Sola wasn't as easily fooled.

"Ravenous, huh?" Padmé shot her a warning look to which Sola feigned complete innocence. "Obviously, you would know."

"Oh, I definitely do," Padmé smirked, but Sola could only waggle her eyebrows when their mother interrupted their brewing banter.

"Mé-Mé, there's something I've been wanting to ask you about Anakin," Jobal started, her serious tone chasing levity from the room. "Regarding your 'connection' with him."

"And what would that be?" Padmé asked, her pronunciation clipped and crisp. She couldn't help herself. Queen Amidala's formal accent was an ingrained defense mechanism by now. Despite the cozy safety of her family home, a chill that had nothing to do with steamy memories spiraled down Padmé' spine.

Even Sola stood a little straighter.

"Easy," her mother placated. "I just want to understand it a little more. Is it… telepathy?"

Warily, Padmé watched Jobal wring her hands on her worn apron. Her mother seemed just as unsure of how exactly to clarify her question as Padmé felt on how to exactly explain her Force bond with Anakin.

"Sort of," she finally said.

Jobal flinched, and Padmé rushed to soothe her mother's concern. She knew she had sensed a growing reservation from that end of the table during the whole breakfast ordeal.

"But telepathy implies the ability to read minds, and Anakin cannot do that."

At this, Jobal shoulder's sagged, her relief palpable when Padmé banished what she wisely discerned was likely her mother's greatest fear. Gnawing at her lip, Padmé furiously considered how to further dispel any remaining unease.

"Yes, Force telepathy," she explained, purposefully acknowledging how Anakin had labelled their ethereal connection, "allows Force-sensitive beings to mentally communicate with others, but think of it as a private comlink between Anakin and I, sans the actual comlink. He can speak to me, and I to him, but we each have to be a willing recipient to hear the other. Otherwise, it's like talking into the void."

Jobal nodded, processing this new explanation slowly, though her eyebrows no longer knit themselves with fret. Padmé sighed, feeling considerable relief herself until Sola chimed in.

"Can you speak to him right now?"

Padmé shook her head.

"We have to be physically near each other," she explained carefully.

"Like in the same room?" Sola pressed.

This time Padmé nodded, shrugging a bit in casual dismissal.

Truth be told, she and Anakin still had questions of their own to answer when it came to the growing strength of their telepathic connection. Questions they couldn't exactly ask anyone and were answering on their own, one slow day at a time. In the early months of their marriage, physical contact made the bond sing even louder, intimate touch the loudest of all. But that was a sacred detail Padmé wasn't willing to part with. Now or likely ever.

Thankfully, Sola seemed appeased for the moment, though Jobal's lips twitched as if holding back one final concern.

"Anakin can't barge his way in, Mom," Padmé stated firmly. "Nor would he."

In perhaps the worst timing of his life, Anakin chose that moment to come barreling into the kitchen, Ruwee and Darred hot on his heels.

"Can I borrow a hairpin?" Anakin gasped, skidding to a stop in front of his wife. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, and his short hair was tousled like she had been running her hands through it. Padmé knew his hat was likely chucked into some corner of the garage, an early victim to her husband's mechanical ruminations.

"Borrow or keep?" Padmé teased, already pulling loose his request. Anakin's eyes tracked the freed lock as it tumbled down her shoulder.

"Keep," he said sheepishly, though his grin was positively wolfish. "I need it to secure the loose port on the fuel-injector or I'll have to bypass the whole power circuit to…"

"Here," Padmé laughed, cutting him off and pressing the thin metal clip into his gesturing hands. "I have no idea what you're saying to me."

Anakin flushed, his face ablaze with letting his boyish enthusiasm run away with him. Fondly, she wiped a grease smear from the tip of his nose with her thumb.

"Be right back," he said, with a wink.

"You better be!" Sola called after him as he and the two newest members of the Anakin Skywalker Fan Club bolted for the garage. "There's two astromech toys waiting for their programmer and…"

"I'll have those done before lunch!" Anakin shouted back.

Sola closed her mouth, whatever she had been about to add interrupted by unapologetic confidence.

"What's wrong, Sis?" Padmé asked, unable to resist poking the bear.

"Before lunch is only half an hour away!"

Indulging Sola's point to the chrono overhead, Padmé pursed her lower lip as if considering the nonsensical time crunch, then shot her sister a wry smile.

"I thought you were done doubting my husband."

"Anakin Skywalker, I owe you an apology."

Anakin glanced up from installing the last panel over the yellow-and-silver astromech's body to see Sola standing over him wearing what could only be described as chagrin.

"And why is that?" he asked, flipping the power switch on the back on Pooja's droid and grinning when the toy whirred to life. "Hey there."

Sola's reply was almost drowned out by her youngest's excited squeals. "Thank you, Uncle Ani! Thank you! Thank you!" The little girl threw herself into his arms before dancing around her newly functional R2 unit, laughing as the small dome pivoted left and right to track her gleeful movements.

"Firstly, for that minion bowling you over," Sola said, though her eyes sparkled watching her daughter frolic. Anakin waved off her concern, his own grin widening as he watched his nieces play. "And secondly, for doubting you would fix the speeder and program these before noon." Sola shook her head and peeked at a smug Padmé. "He didn't even ask for the manual!"

Padmé laughed. "I told you he wouldn't!"

"I also enabled all of the features, so you won't have to mess with them later," Anakin added.

Sola pressed her palms together in a prayer-hands salute, mouthing "You're the best".

It took all of the adults to pry the children away from the beeping and chortling droids. Even then Pooja and Ryoo only sat long enough to eat half of their lunch before squirming out of their chairs and bee-lining back to the living room.

Jobal didn't seem to mind her granddaughter's lack of appetite, so long as Anakin's was fed. Despite Padmé's earlier reassurances and Anakin rapidly consuming three huge bowls, she still seemed skeptical that the traditional nosna stew would be to his liking.

"That was delicious," Anakin said, plunking his spoon down and leaning back with a soft sated groan. "Now I need a nap."

"A nap sounds great," Padmé hummed in agreement.

Peals of laughter trilled through the content dining room as Ryoo and Pooja reveled in whatever antics they were getting into with their new astromech friends.

"Those droids sure were a hit," Ruwee mused. He turned a congratulatory eye to the couple on his left. "Good job, you two."

"I'm glad they are enjoying them so much," Padmé said.

Another round of shrill giggles echoed around the quiet gathering, pulling several mouths into knowing smiles.

"Maybe too much," Darred grumbled, craning his neck to peek in when the giggles intensified along with a suspicious sounding thud. "RIP whoever tries to convince them to lay down for a bit this afternoon."

Padmé sat up, her hand coming to rest on the forearm still crossed over Anakin's full stomach. With a mischievous grin, she said, "We can convince them I bet."

Anakin peeked an eye open drowsily at his wife, but didn't argue the challenge.

"Oh, let them have a few more minutes," Jobal chided gently, standing to clear the table. She jumped back when the bowl she had been stretching for floated out of her reach. She smiled at Anakin who was already stirring to his feet. "No, dear," she implored him. "I'll do this the old-fashioned way."

Properly scolded, Anakin resumed his seat as Jobal, ever the caretaker, bustled around collecting silverware and place settings. Wisely, Padmé waited until her mother was out of earshot.

"She's beyond thrilled that you loved her stew."

"I will literally eat anything that woman puts in front of me," Anakin sighed.

When Padmé and Sola erupted into laughter, the three men surrounding them could only exchange bemused looks.

Anakin knew from experience that his nieces had more energy than a super power cell, but even their supply wasn't completely limitless. After an extra hour of play, giggles and squeals morphed into mild spats and whines until Sola clapped her hands together and announced it was time.

To his further surprise, Ryoo and Pooja barely fought their mother's decree, instead each seeming mollified enough to retreat for some much-needed rest so long as their aunt and uncle were the ones administering the mandatory nap.

"Have you ever seen a Lighting, Uncle Ani?" Pooja asked, her voice thick with slumber's trespass.

Anakin tucked her blanket higher about her shoulders and shook his head. "Nope, this'll be my first one."

The little girl smiled. "It's soooo magical."

"I hope it snows," Ryoo added.

Padmé had almost convinced her eldest niece to lay down, but Ryoo's face still was bright with unspent reserves. "Can we play a game, Aunt Mé-Mé?"

"All right," Padmé relented, wrinkling her nose. "A quick one, and we have to be quiet, so I don't get in trouble with your mom."

Ryoo flopped back onto her bed, crossing her heart in the Nabooian articulation of "I promise".

"How about…" Padmé wracked her brain for a suitable option, her face aglow when the perfect game came to mind. "Face Paint?"

Ryoo and Pooja cheered loudly before Padmé shushed them back into line. Over their residual giggling, Anakin looked to his wife, bewildered. "Uhhh, some instruction please?"

Pooja sighed and rolled her eyes, beckoning her uncle to lean in.

"I'll paint you first so you can learn. What animal do you want to be?" she said. Anakin watched her use her forefinger to stir at various color splotches on her comforter. When her "paints" were sufficiently prepped, she raised a finger in wait of his answer.

Anakin looked to Padmé, sudden inspiration sparking in his head.

"How about a shaak?"

"Ewwww, but it's your credits," Pooja scoffed, her judgmental frown sending Padmé's palm to her mouth to smother her howl of laughter. "Come here."

Obediently, Anakin propped his face in his hands on the edge of the little girl's bed as she traced patterns over his face, occasionally dipping her finger into the pretend paint palette spread across the covers. His eyes bounced between Pooja's pucker of concentration and Ryoo drawing Padmé's request of a guarlara. Both girls had "Oooo"-ed appreciatively when Padmé had put forth her desired design.

With a fastidious touch, Pooja applied the last few dots to Anakin's cheeks before holding out her palm.

"There," she announced. "That'll be seven hundred credits, please."

"Seven hundred credits!" Anakin exclaimed.

"Mine was a thousand," Padmé sniffed, playing along to the girls' delight. "These are highly skilled face paint artists, Ani. Pay the girl what she's worth."

Anakin reached towards his waist, pulling imaginary credit chips from his belt and mumbling something about "being shaken down by a four-year-old" which made Ryoo scold her subject as Padmé bubbled with mirth. He playfully plopped his pay on piles all over Pooja, the little girl screeching in delight when he "chased" after the coins and cards rolling all around her until their bedroom door suddenly popped open.

"What's going on in here?" Sola asked, her raised brow casting a dubious survey of the room. "Doesn't sound like napping to me."

With an affectionate pat on Pooja's curly head, Anakin rose, pulling Padmé to her feet with him. He gestured to his face.

"Can't you see there are artists at work here?"

Sola crossed her arms, but grinned.

"Ahhh, I see." She glanced at Padmé. "The Face Paint game?"

"We were just finishing up," Padmé replied. Twining her fingers with Anakin's, she waved her free hand over her shoulder. "Sweet dreams, ladies. See you in a bit."

They left to a scattered chorus of "Night!" and Sola urging her kids to settle down, but once in the hallway, Padmé didn't let go.

"Thank you for playing along," she said softly.

"Of course," Anakin soothed, stopping their forward momentum and pulling her further into his arms. "It was pretty fun." He let go, his left-hand skimming over her cheeks, then nose, then lips, each touch more sensual than the last. "Do you want to keep playing?"

Desire flared to life in Padmé's brown gaze, a beautiful flush staining her pale skin, but she sent a worried look to the closed door at their backs, and Anakin watched her swallow down the rising reluctance. Before she can voice a protest, he scooped her up in his arms, twirling her about, and was rewarded with the descent of joy's freeing veil.

Under the reign of frivolity once again, Anakin landed a few scandalous touches that send Padmé into bouts of poorly suppressed squeals. Her playful attempts to get away only encouraged his seeking fingers, though more often than not their continued torment elicited more laughter than whispered sighs.

"Ani, no!" Padmé shoved at his shoulder, but he quickly pinned her defending arm to the wall, both of them laughing loudly when she attempted to use the leverage to wrench her other arm out of his grasp.

"Impressive," Anakin acknowledged, but reading her next move like he wrote the textbook on her defense strategy adjusted his countermove. Suddenly, more than just Padmé's arm was pinned to the wall. From the cage of his arms, Padmé glared up at him defiantly, even as her breaths came in anticipatory stutters.

A heavy heat saturated the hallway atmosphere, evaporating when the forgotten door at the end of the corridor opened to reveal a victorious Sola. Her soft smile turned positively lascivious when she sees the entangled couple before her.

"A little advice?" Sola suggested. "Inside right elbow."

"Sola!" Padmé protested.

"Padmééééé," Sola whined back, before lowering her voice and pressing a finger to her lips. "Keep it down, my kids are trying to nap."

Ignoring Padmé's glare, Sola winked a conspiratorial blessing at Anakin, then quickly disappeared down the stairs, leaving the young couple to sort themselves out.

Squirming for all she was worth, Padmé sought to use Anakin's momentary distraction against him. Her efforts weren't worth much. Already at an advantage with her up against the wall, Anakin easily smothered Padmé's futile attempts to escape. Pressing his hips further into the cradle of hers freed his hands to capture her flailing right arm, twisting it gently but purposefully up and away from her so that he could discover more about the traitorously revealed tickle zone. Methodically, Anakin peeled back the long sleeve covering her Padmé's right arm, and when her narrowed gaze did nothing to stop his fingers from descending to her exposed elbow, Padmé frantically tried to use the only form of rebellion she had left in her dwindling arsenal.

Deliberately, she ground her hips into his though it was to no avail. Her movements to distract him became less focused and increasingly wilder as his thumb dragged deliriously back and forth over her the vulnerable patch of delicate skin.

"Ani, no! Ani, please!" Padmé cried, laughing helplessly between gasping protests. With her free hand, she shoved hard at his immoveable shoulder, writhing in one last ditch endeavor to halt another barrage, squealing loudly when, "No, no, no, Ani!" suddenly became a breathless, "Ohhhhhhhh…"

The shudder that went through her when he traded his lips for roving fingertips sprung from pleasure of a completely different variety. That betrayingly familiar tremor more than anything stopped Anakin instantly in his torturous track.

Pulling back, his own eyes wide with pleasant surprise, he unleashed a devilish grin. "Really?"

"I… I… I didn't…" Padmé stammered, coherent thought suddenly difficult with the cerulean hope staring down at her. Licking her lips, she tried again, "I didn't know about that."

"Should we find out more?" Anakin whispered huskily, nuzzling his way back and placing an open mouth kiss to her elbow's soft crook. Tantalized by his touch, her tender flesh erupted in chilled goosebumps even as her insides dissolved with molten heat.

"Please," she practically begged.

All too willing to oblige, Anakin whisked them the last two feet into Padmé's old bedroom.