5+1 Sentence Meme: Shenanakins
Dec. 6th, 2018 12:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sanerontheinsideoriginal post
“Oh, all right, fine, just pretend I didn’t see that; stop lying to me already!!!“
Obi-Wan had been valiantly trying to resist pinching the bridge of his nose all evening. His Padawan, an absolute blazing beacon in the Force, who’d picked up in a year what many Initiates took at least twice as long to learn—was absolutely rubbish at sneaking out.
Not that most of the Initiate tricks had worked on Qui-Gon (some had), but this was, frankly, embarrassing. Anakin had been rambling about the illegal swoop races and speeder designs and contenders for months now. Merely as a theoretical exercise, of course.
There was also that pet project of his in the hangar to back up the ‘theoretical’ claim and provide a neat basis for discussion of designs. Obi-Wan had been quite amenable, in fact, to discussing aerodynamics and various useful, lightweight, heat-resistant materials over dinner.
But did Anakin really imagine that holding back his enthusiasm suddenly over the last several days, bouncing up and down full of pent-up energy and painful nervousness, would not be at least a hint that he was up to something? Never mind a great big red blaring alarm.
To cap it off neatly, they’d just returned from one of the most grueling missions they’d seen yet. Anakin was bursting with energy, recovered in less than two days. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, could still barely drag himself from quarters to Council chambers to maybe the Quartermaster to requisition a new kit—yes I understand the financial burden this places on the Order but my Padawan and I just spent three weeks in a sewer so if you could ever so kindly move it along—and then back facedown into bed. The last thing he wanted was to be startled out of it by the sound of his Padawan tripping over himself and falling flat in the living room, probably upsetting the colony of datapads and cannibalised mechanicals he’d cultivated on the coffee table.
His Padawan was utterly awful at sneaking out. In all fairness, he was in the middle of a never-ending growth spurt, but that hardly tempered Obi-Wan’s flare of irritation when he rushed out of his room in time to catch a full view of his limping Padawan scampering out through the door.
Obi-Wan couldn’t help it. In this moment of privacy which would, under other circumstances, in fact have been rather lovely, he indulged himself in a heartfelt groan, rolled his eyes, and vented his frustrations at the coffee table.
Honestly, as an exercise in control, Obi-Wan was not even particularly opposed to the idea of swoop races. It was dangerous—yes; and there was every chance his Padawan could slip up and pull off something utterly impossible to do without the Force—that was where the greatest danger lay. Jedi were thought to hold an unfair advantage over other contestants, and Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly keen to see his Padawan killed or seriously injured by a sore loser. There were safer places to race—like the various Concours events on Corellia for example, some of which specifically were set up by and for Jedi, and open to anyone else who wanted to have a go at besting ‘those freaks of nature’. They would also be far more appreciative of Anakin’s designs, Obi-Wan thought savagely.
Time to go watch his Padawan’s back, again.
Next time he’s making one of those bikes for me, Obi-Wan decided. And he was going to be very particular about what he wanted, and where they were going to race. All this nonsense had to be worth at least one bottle of Corellian brandy.
Yeah so that headcanon of Anakin being utterly awful at sneaking out? Plunnie farm.
zannatinuviel said: For the fic meme: "Oh, all right, fine, just pretend I didn't see that; stop lying to me already!!!"
“Oh, all right, fine, just pretend I didn’t see that; stop lying to me already!!!“
Obi-Wan had been valiantly trying to resist pinching the bridge of his nose all evening. His Padawan, an absolute blazing beacon in the Force, who’d picked up in a year what many Initiates took at least twice as long to learn—was absolutely rubbish at sneaking out.
Not that most of the Initiate tricks had worked on Qui-Gon (some had), but this was, frankly, embarrassing. Anakin had been rambling about the illegal swoop races and speeder designs and contenders for months now. Merely as a theoretical exercise, of course.
There was also that pet project of his in the hangar to back up the ‘theoretical’ claim and provide a neat basis for discussion of designs. Obi-Wan had been quite amenable, in fact, to discussing aerodynamics and various useful, lightweight, heat-resistant materials over dinner.
But did Anakin really imagine that holding back his enthusiasm suddenly over the last several days, bouncing up and down full of pent-up energy and painful nervousness, would not be at least a hint that he was up to something? Never mind a great big red blaring alarm.
To cap it off neatly, they’d just returned from one of the most grueling missions they’d seen yet. Anakin was bursting with energy, recovered in less than two days. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, could still barely drag himself from quarters to Council chambers to maybe the Quartermaster to requisition a new kit—yes I understand the financial burden this places on the Order but my Padawan and I just spent three weeks in a sewer so if you could ever so kindly move it along—and then back facedown into bed. The last thing he wanted was to be startled out of it by the sound of his Padawan tripping over himself and falling flat in the living room, probably upsetting the colony of datapads and cannibalised mechanicals he’d cultivated on the coffee table.
His Padawan was utterly awful at sneaking out. In all fairness, he was in the middle of a never-ending growth spurt, but that hardly tempered Obi-Wan’s flare of irritation when he rushed out of his room in time to catch a full view of his limping Padawan scampering out through the door.
Obi-Wan couldn’t help it. In this moment of privacy which would, under other circumstances, in fact have been rather lovely, he indulged himself in a heartfelt groan, rolled his eyes, and vented his frustrations at the coffee table.
Honestly, as an exercise in control, Obi-Wan was not even particularly opposed to the idea of swoop races. It was dangerous—yes; and there was every chance his Padawan could slip up and pull off something utterly impossible to do without the Force—that was where the greatest danger lay. Jedi were thought to hold an unfair advantage over other contestants, and Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly keen to see his Padawan killed or seriously injured by a sore loser. There were safer places to race—like the various Concours events on Corellia for example, some of which specifically were set up by and for Jedi, and open to anyone else who wanted to have a go at besting ‘those freaks of nature’. They would also be far more appreciative of Anakin’s designs, Obi-Wan thought savagely.
Time to go watch his Padawan’s back, again.
Next time he’s making one of those bikes for me, Obi-Wan decided. And he was going to be very particular about what he wanted, and where they were going to race. All this nonsense had to be worth at least one bottle of Corellian brandy.
Yeah so that headcanon of Anakin being utterly awful at sneaking out? Plunnie farm.
