Title: I Know Your Type

Rating: M

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Padme Amidala

Genre: Modern AU

Synopsis: "Am I dead?" It slips out, accidentally. She turns her head towards me, a confused look on her face and tips her head. "Excuse me?" Flashing her an impish grin, I lean casually against the wall. "I must have died and gone to heaven, because you look like an angel." The look she gives me is far from impressed. "Do you use that with all the girls, or am I just lucky?"

Author's Note: Just a plot bunny about a college AU that suddenly came to me. I was inspired by a 2008 song I heard on the radio today as I was driving to work - Good Girls Go Bad by Cobra Starship. Just something about that song made me think instantly of this scenario and so... well... I just had to write it! I've always enjoyed the idea of Anakin being a bit of a player. But Padme has none of it. Hope you enjoy some pointless, hilarious fluff.

Chapter 1

"Shots!" Ahsoka cheers excitedly, right in my ear. I swear I go deaf for just a second – she really has no idea how loud her voice is when she's drunk. Beside her, Barriss and Riyo clap their hands together with glee, and then Ahsoka's tugging my arm, pulling me unwillingly towards the bar. I can't believe this. Really, they shouldn't even be here. All three of them are only eighteen, yet somehow they managed to get fake IDs and convince me to take them out. Only the thought of some fucking creep taking Ahsoka home made me realise that I couldn't let her go out alone. She was like my little sister – I had to look out for her. But, that didn't mean I was enjoying it.

The last thing I wanted to do on a Saturday night was to stand chaperone to three, barely legal, drunk girls. I mean, come on. I'd much rather be grinding up against Aayla Securra – she's been giving me those come fuck me eyes all fucking night, but I've been stuck over here with three wasted teenagers, swatting off guys left, right and center. I mean, Ahsoka's not ugly and, dressed like that, in a skirt that's way too short for my liking, and one of those halter crop tops that cost way too much for such a miniscule amount of fabric… it's no wonder she's getting so much attention. And, the girl can move, I'll give her that much. I would have preferred her to dress a little more…modestly, though, just to sate my big brother protective instincts.

"Come on, Skyguy!" she begs me, blinking at me with her huge blue eyes, and I sigh and run a hand through my blonde hair. "Let's do tequila shots!"

"Alright, one round," I renege, dreading what's to come. My head is going to fucking hate me in the morning, but how can I say no to her?

She grins maniacally at me and then leans half-over the bar, shouting at the poor bartender for her shots – not that he seems to mind, I notice with a frown, because the way she's leaning her body against the bar is pushing her cleavage up in a way that is so inappropriate, and I hastily grab her by the waist and yank her back down onto her feet. I flash the guy a warning glare, but he only smirks at me and starts pouring tequila into four shot glasses and passes out lemon wedges.

"Cheers!" Ahsoka cries, and I lick the salt from my hand before throwing the shot back. My gag reflex instantly comes to life, and I hastily shove a slice of lemon in my mouth, sucking on it fervently to rid my mouth of the horrid, acid taste of tequila that makes me want to puke. It's as I spit the half-dissolved lemon into the waiting cup – Ahsoka staggers next to me and almost falls over – that I see her. Suddenly, whatever shenanigans Ahsoka and her friends get up to is no longer of any concern to me, because there, by the wall, is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I feel my jaw go slack and my eyes widen as I watch her. She's simply stunning.

An angel in a place of sin.

She's one of those wallflower types, I can tell, but fuck, if she isn't the most goddamn gorgeous creature in the world. My mouth goes dry as I stare at her. There's something about her that draws my attention, keeps me captivated. She's dressed simply in a high-neck black dress, one of those ones with little capped sleeves and a skirt that flares out from her tiny waist to swirl around her mid-thigh. But on her, it might as well have been a ball gown. Her brown curly hair is piled in an elegant mess on top of her head, and her dark brown eyes scan the room curiously as she sips her drink through a straw. She is absolute perfection.

My palms are sweating. My heart is palpitating in my chest. I want to go over to her, but my feet are rooted to the spot. What the fuck? This isn't a normal occurrence for me. I have no problem talking to women. Actually, I'm pretty fucking great at it. It's not an unusual situation for me. I hardly ever leave a club alone on a Saturday night. Yet, the thought of even breathing the same air as this girl has me petrified. She's too refined, too pure, too innocent for a guy like me.

A heavy waft of tequila breath hits my nostrils, and I stagger a little as Ahsoka throws her arm around my shoulders. "Whatcha looking at, Skyguy?" she drawls in my ear, her words slurred a little. I don't respond, so she follows my gaze and laughs. "She's cute," she whistles in appreciation.

Cute is definitely not the word I would have used. Sublime. Exquisite. Divine. Cute implies that she is a little girl – to me, she is an angel.

"I didn't think good girls were your type," Ahsoka points out with a smirk.

I'm about to retort that all girls are my type, when she lifts her gaze slowly and looks right at me. Fuck. Fuck fucking fuck. The way her eyes widen informs me immediately that she knows I'm staring at her, but I can't look away. Her gaze is… intoxicating, even from the other side of the bar. The corners of her mouth twitch up into a little smile around her straw, and I swear my heart stops beating. Amusement dances in her dark eyes, as though she's privy to some private joke that I'm unaware of. I suddenly want to know what it is she's thinking. I am consumed with fascination.

Our eyes lock and nothing else seems to exist. The blaring music fades out, the crowd of people disappear, and it's just us; me and her. I don't know how, but I feel a connection to her, and I've never even spoken a single word to her. The thought makes me scoff internally. I'm not a romantic guy; I like to have fun and live in the moment, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I mean, I'm twenty-two, and amazingly good-looking and charming as fuck, and I make the most of it. But, this girl… I suddenly feel like a bumbling fifteen year old again.

"You should go and talk to her," Ahsoka tells me, and I'm tempted, oh, how I'm tempted, and I go to make my move when – like a shard of glass to my heart – she is approached by another guy, and she smiles up at him, and her smile is so dazzling, that I know I've lucked out. Even though it's my own fault for being so weak, I still feel a sharp pang of rejection. It's unjustified, but it's there, a raw and weeping sore that eats me up from the inside, and I lean against the bar sullenly and run a hand through my hair, dejected.

Ahsoka decides that to cheer me up, we should have another round of shots, and this time I don't even hesitate to drown out my disappointment in losing the most perfect girl I've ever laid eyes on. I scan the room for any sign of Aayla, hoping maybe she'll oblige me in a quick blow job in the bathroom like last time, but she's against the wall, wrapped up in some guy's arms, so I guess that ruins my chances there, too. Tonight's not your night, Skywalker.

The night wears on and I drink more and more, and decide, by 2 am, it's time to put Ahsoka and her friends in a taxi home. She's sloppy drunk, can hardly walk straight, and Barriss spent the last half an hour throwing up in the toilet; so, I feel it's the only right thing to do. I head back inside the club, not quite ready to go home yet, when I see that she's alone again. Still by the wall. Still sipping from her straw. Still fucking beautiful.

I give myself a little pep talk, pumping myself up, gaining the courage I need to go over and approach her. With a firm nod, I weave my way through the crowd of dancing drunks, towards the wall, never taking my eyes off of her. She's not looking at me, doesn't even notice I'm beside her – her eyes are fixed on a group of people next to her, surveying them with mild interest. I play over the line in my head, how best I'm going to get her attention, but the way her head is twisted to the side gives me a pleasing view of her slender neck. Graceful. Her ivory skin is so tempting that I have to resist the urge to sink my teeth into it, bruise it with my lips, marking her as mine, and my smooth line is suddenly forgotten.

"Am I dead?" It slips out, accidentally.

She turns her head towards me, a confused look on her face and tips her head back to look up at me. "Excuse me?!"

Flashing her an impish grin, I try to amend myself and lean casually against the wall. "I must have died and gone to heaven, because you look like an angel." It's probably the single worst line I've ever delivered, but I've said it now, so I just have to deal with the consequences.

The look she gives me is far from impressed. Rightly so. "Do you use that line on all the girls, or am I just lucky?" She raises an eyebrow.

Well, fuck. She's quick. Something about that sparks my interest. A lot. "It got your attention though, didn't it?" I quip, a grin spreading across my face.

Her eyes twinkle with amusement, and she runs her perfectly manicured finger around the rim of her glass. "You should receive a reward for the worst pickup line in the history of bad pickup lines."

I lean a little closer to her and breathe in her scent. She smells fucking amazing, I can't get enough of it, of her. "I wouldn't mind that if you were giving me the reward."

She laughs, and it's the most gorgeous sound I've ever heard. And, the way she laughs too, the way her perfect, red lips part, her eyes flutter closed just a little, her cute little nose crinkles adorably. I suddenly want to make her laugh for the rest of my life. "I'm sure," she replies, a teasing lilt to her voice. God, this woman is magnetising! "Actually, I was wondering when you were going to come over here."

Fuck. Stay cool, Skywalker. Stay cool. "You were busy," I shrug, trying for nonchalant. "I didn't want to interrupt you and your beau."

She frowns, and for some reason, she still looks so gorgeous. It's inconceivable to me how perfect this girl is. I have to get to know her. "Oh, Rush? He's not – " she breaks off and bites her lips as she gathers her thoughts, and I'm possessed with the sudden urge to free that lush bottom lip with my teeth and suck it into my mouth. "He's just an…old acquaintance."

I scoff at that. "So, an ex, then?"

Her expression grows terse. "What makes you assume that?"

Rolling my eyes, I chuckle. "No one refers to someone as an 'old acquaintance' unless they have a history… a bad history."

My teasing only seems to make her mad, and she purses her lips together in a thin line. I've overstepped a mark. "You know nothing about me," she snaps, and I curse at my lack of tact. Why couldn't I just keep my fucking mouth shut? Here I am, talking to the girl of my dreams, and now I've gone and blown the slim chance I had of taking her home.

She turns away from me, idly swirling her straw in her glass, and I rub the back of my neck awkwardly. "I'd… I'd like to," I tell her, sheepishly, and the admission makes her expression soften a little. She eyes me sternly, as if judging the truth of my words, and then smiles. Her smile...it's so breathtaking that I have to remind myself to breathe.

"Well then, what would you like to know…?" her voice trails off in a question, eyebrows raised.

"Anakin Skywalker," I introduce myself, holding out my hand. She takes it in hers, and her hands are so small and elegant and feminine, perfect...just like everything about her. The mere touch of her skin against mine sends bolts of electricity straight up my arm. I suddenly feel like my arm is on fire. "And, I'd like to know what an angel like you is doing in a dive like this?"

Her cheeks flush prettily at the compliment, and my insides do a dance of victory. Success! "Padme Naberrie." Even her name is beautiful. "It's my friend's birthday," she inclined her head towards a group of girls dancing in the middle of the room.

I eye her curiously, curling my lips into a smirk. "I take it you don't frequent the clubbing scene much."

Instead of reprimanding me for my rude observation, she merely sighs and casts her eyes to the floor, adorably bashful, and I've never wanted to kiss a girl more so than right now. "Is it that obvious?" she asks softly, a little insecure.

I reach out and touch her wrist, and her eyes flick down at the contact, before she's back to looking at me again, staring right into my soul, our eyes locked. "Well, for starters," I begin, resorting to teasing banter because I just can't handle the emotions she's stirring in me right now. "You're not dancing."

She flushes even deeper. "I'm not really the dancing type," she admits, shyly. "Especially not in social situations." She's insecure, and I stare at her incredulously, because she's so beautiful, and she has no idea. There is nothing she has to be insecure about.

"Well then, this is your chance," I say, beaming at her, taking her wrist and pulling her closer to me, so that my breath is in her ear. Her breath hitches at the proximity, and I feel my belly do a nervous flop as our bodies touch, and I slide my hand gently up her arm and down her back, resting chastely on her hips. "Dance with me," I breathe in her ear, low and husky, and she shudders in my arms.

"I'm terrible," she protests, though I notice how she hasn't moved away from me. If anything, she's pressing herself closer to me, and it makes me want to bang my chest and roar in animalistic pride because I have this exquisite creature in my arms...and she's letting me, and I know I'm the luckiest guy there.

Grinning, I wink at her. "Well, you're in luck. I'm a great dancer."

A soft laugh slips past her lips, and I have that urge to kiss her again. "You're awfully full of yourself, aren't you?"

I boldly wrap my arms around her tiny waist and pull her into me, chest to chest. She's so short, even in heels, that her head only reaches my shoulder. "It's a gift," I return slyly, and she grins at me, takes my hand and, before I realise what's happening, she's leading me out onto the packed dance floor. I watch her for awhile, this sappy grin on my face, as she twirls and sways her perfectly curved hips to the music, curving her arms through the air. Her eyes are closed as she lets the music flow through her and, even though she's not very graceful, I can't take my eyes of her. She's fucking celestial.

After several minutes of just watching her, she lifts her head and blushes furiously in embarrassment, stopping her movements, as she realizes I'm staring at her. I take her hips possessively in my hands and pull her against me, so our hips are flush together, and as I guide our movements, together, we dance – though it's more like slow grinding. Her hands skim up my chest, before curling around my neck, and she softly twirls her fingers through the hair at my nape. The way she's looking at me, all flushed and breathless and gorgeous, gives me no choice but to close the distance between us and capture her lips with my own.

She tastes amazing, sweet and lush and fresh, and it's addictive. I don't ever want to stop kissing her. She tugs gently at my hair and makes this glorious little whimper, and I respond with a low growl of my own, and pull her tighter against me. I slide my lips down her jaw to nip at her earlobe. Her skin tastes just as divine as her lips do. "Come home with me," I ask, no beg, in her ear. I'm so completely gone for this girl it's crazy. I've never craved anything so much in my entire life as I do her.

She chuckles against me and pulls back, placing her hands on my chest. "No, Anakin."

I frown at her. Why is she playing coy? I know she can feel the chemistry between us just as I do – it sizzles red hot in the air. I've never felt this kind of chemistry with any woman before. "Why not?" I say as I brush my lips again over her sweet mouth.

This time, she steps away so we are no longer touching, and I suddenly ache from the loss of contact. "Because, we've only just met." She's still smiling, but her voice is firm. Final. She's made up her mind.

Still, I have to try. No way am I going to let this perfect angel disappear from my life. "You feel it, don't you?" I whisper, stepping forward to once again take her in my arms. She fits perfectly against me, like she was made just for me. "Why deny it?" I ghost my lips over her cheek and down her neck, feeling her body instinctively respond to me. "I'll make it so, so good for you…"

Padme laughs again softly, and it makes me scowl. "I'm getting a pretty good idea of how this usually works for you," she says, voice filled with mirth, eyes sparkling in amusement. "Does anyone ever tell you 'no'?"

"Why would they?" I demand, suddenly offended. Goddess or not, who was she to question my prowess in the bedroom? I am filled with the sudden urge to take her home and prove her wrong.

"I know your type, Anakin Skywalker" she sighs with a shake of her head. "You think, just because you're incredibly attractive and girls fawn all over you, that you can get whatever you want, whenever you want it." She crosses her arms and fixes me with a firm expression, tilting her head just so as she gazes at me. "Well, I'm not like the other girls you know. You'll have to work a lot harder than that to win me over." And then, to my horror, she turns on her heel, finds her girlfriends and whispers something to them, before she leaves the club.

No! She can't leave! How will I ever contact her again? I don't even have her number! I can't let her get away from me! Frantically, I tear after her, desperately pushing my way through the throng of people, until I see her hailing a taxi.

"Padme!" I call after her, and she turns her head, regarding me strangely. "Wait!" A taxi pulls up on the curb, and she glances between it and me, as if weighing up her options. I don't give her any time to decide, because I finally reach her, breathless and panting. I reach out to take her hand, and I realise my own is trembling. "Can I see you again?...Please?!" This is a rare moment for me, because I don't date. Ever. But, with her it's…different. She does something to me that I can't even begin to explain – only that it's fucking cloud nine. And, I know that I need to see her again.

She closes her eyes and is silent for a long moment. The taxidriver beeps the horn impatiently, but she ignores him. Finally, she opens her eyes, looks deep into mine, and flashes me a teasing smirk, and I feel my insides melt. "Meet me at the little Starbucks on the corner over there, three days from now, at midday," she says, as she points toward the coffee shop across from us on the opposite corner. I glance over at the location she indicated and then back at her. "If I see you there, then I'll know you're serious."

Then, she opens the door of the taxi, slides inside, and is gone. I stare after the cab in awe, rooted to the spot. My hand still tingles from where I touched hers, and I can't believe that I actually feel butterflies in my stomach. Three days. I'll see her again in three more days! I can't wait, and I am suddenly over the moon with excitement. No way will I miss out on this! After that, everything becomes a blur. I don't remember how I get home, don't even register that I made it home until I'm standing in the doorway of my apartment and Ahsoka is staring at me like I've suddenly sprouted antlers.

"What happened to you?" she asks, eyes wide open, gesturing to the dopey expression on my face.

I slump down on the sofa, staring off into nothing in particular. All I can see is the most beautiful face before my eyes; those deep dark brown eyes, and the most delectable rosy lips. Her. ALL I see is Padme Naberrie.

Blinking my eyes several times, I look up at Ahsoka, completely serious. "I think I'm in love."