Droplets of water hit the floor and glinted from his darkened auburn hair as Obi-Wan stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and used another to dry his hair and rub over his beard. The mirror reflected a steamed covered reflection, just as Obi-Wan preferred. He didn't feel comfortable seeing his own body. At times he felt it must be his own faults and a disconnect with the Force, but he'd come to realize the reflection was not what he saw himself as. While the man in the mirror was toned, with a gentle confidence, inside, Obi-Wan still felt like the scrawny padawan who first joined Qui-Gon on the Melida/Daan mission.

He let these emotions pass through him after accepting them, and released them into the Force. A smile formed on his lips that he could not see with his closed eyes. Qui-Gon would be proud of his control

A low humming of a cantina song drifted through the warm humid air as Obi-Wan went through the nearly ritualistic motions of drying himself. Patterns he could understand; they were reliant, unchanging, and comforting. It was everything else that spiked his anxieties, if he lost sight and didn't let himself accept it. He figured out long ago that the Force didn't bend to his will - it was its own will. He was merely a vessel through which it worked.

It wasn't often he got to relax like this. He could very nearly consider it indulgence, yet his body was worn from their last bloody mission. He needed this time to himself, to recuperate and strengthen his mental resolve from the horror he'd witnesses. The images of dead and dying clones too often plagued his thoughts. He wished he could release those memories into the Force as thoroughly as he could with his temporary emotions.

With his solitude in mind, he continued singing and humming quietly as he dried himself out, enjoying the simple feeling of being clean again.

"You look rested."

The voice caught Obi-Wan's attention and he swiveled around to see Anakin standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his eyes traveling over Obi-Wan's figure shamelessly. He was tall, his head very nearly brushing the top of the threshold into the fresher. His sandy blonde hair was growing out now, framing his face but also falling into it in a way that made Obi-Wan want to reach and push it to the side. Nothing should cover those eyes; they were so full of life and light.

Obi-Wan gave him a dry look, raising a nearly amused eyebrow. He hadn't sensed his former padawan's presence, and he wasn't about to let him know that. Anakin would cough his own words back to him about being mindful of one's surroundings. Words Obi-Wan himself had heard from Qui-Gon Jinn long ago. Somedays it felt centuries, others, weeks.

Anakin grinned and brought him back to the present. He vaguely noted the weight of his towel attempting to shift from his hips with a surge of the Force.

"You're supposed to be in your own quarters. Meditating.," Obi-Wan scowled, holding his slipping towel up with one hand. He might wait until later to lecture Anakin about such a frivolous use of his powers, yet Obi-Wan was often guilty of the same when it came to Anakin Skywalker.

"I was bored," he shrugged, stepping closer to him. A smile tugged at Obi-Wan's lips as Anakin reached out and stroked down his arm with his flesh hand. He could never resist this; the comfortable presence between them, the light teasing, the way Anakin's eyes darkened while looking at him . . . .

He snapped out of his thoughts when Anakin spoke again.

"Here's another thing I'm probably not supposed to do: that towel is about to disappear," the younger man said with a growl. Obi-Wan actually let out a laugh as he got the towel off of him in one smooth motion and it pooled to the floor. Oh, how Anakin let him relax. This can't be wrong, the Force has drawn us together. It has made me a better Jedi; I'm the Jedi Qui-Gon had always hoped I would be. The thoughts flowed through him quickly; he would dwell on them later. For now . . . .

Anakin looped his arm around his waist, pulling him against his firm body. He was still fully clothed, and Obi-Wan's skin was dampening the fabric of his under-robes. Obi-Wan's hands came up and rested against his unyielding chest. He stared up at him and became lost in honest blue eyes for a breathtaking moment. It felt so safe within Anakin's embrace. He knew the same was true for the other; they were The Team, after all, and they protected each other.

"At least there was a warning. Not much of one, but that's progress," Obi-Wan pursed his lips in a smile. Anakin's eyes sparkled, and Obi-Wan swore he would never let that light burn out.

"I do have some manners, Master," Anakin mocked him. Anakin's forehead came down to rest on Obi-Wan's, and the gesture made his stomach flip. He bit his bottom lip, eyes trailing down his neck, then his chest, which was exposed by the loose nightshirt he wore. Jedi Control, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Release your emotions-

"I wouldn't settle for anything less. At least some lessons have gotten through. No matter how slowly," Obi-Wan said in a gentle voice, the kind that was reserved just for Anakin, and their eyes met again, locked in a deeper embrace than they could possibly manage.

"I'm offended, Master. You know I try my best to give you my full attention," Anakin said, even as he leaned forward to press small kisses and nips against the warm but quickly cooling skin of Obi-Wan's neck. Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered shut and his arms curled around Anakin to pull him in closer. His beard scraped against Anakin's smoother skin; Anakin was nuzzling against it, Obi-Wan realized. He felt fondness swell up in his chest.

He should tell Anakin there was no need to call him Master anymore - but the word sent a strange thrill through him that hadn't started since that first night, several months after Anakin had been knighted, when their mission was long and they were sore, exhausted, and in need of comfort. Even before then, Obi-Wan had been holding a torch for him, drawn like a moth to the flame of Anakin.

And oh, he was so bright, so alive in the Force when he let it surge through him that Obi-Wan became addicted to his presence. He had never known a purer, immensely-feeling being in the galaxy. Yet that deep emotion, feeling everything, he knew it caused Anakin pain. He desperately wished he could take it from him. Or at least share in the burden.

His fingers dug into Anakin's shoulders as their lips met in a wet kiss, and Anakin pushed them both further into the fresher. The door slipped shut behind him, and the room echoed with their groans and breath.

When Anakin's knees hit the floor and warmth enveloped Obi-Wan, the only word he could remember was his name.

Anakin.