Obi-Wan didn't know what to do.

This wasn't a new sensation for him. Though he had grown in confidence as well as skill under the tutelage of Qui-Gon Jinn, he had never managed to completely escape the nagging insecurity that had tapped at the walls of his mind for years.

Of course, the arrival his now ten-year old padawan had transformed that tapping into a full-scale siege.

He had followed the Healer's instructions to the letter. Blankets. Soup. Thermometer. Anakin's cold was nothing life-threatening; if anything, the boy probably appreciated the break from his relentless classes as he tried his best to close the gap between himself and his Temple-raised classmates.

And yet "probably appreciated" was really the best Obi-Wan could do. Because he didn't actually know how Anakin felt. He could guess, of course- he hadn't made it through over a decade with Qui-Gon without learning how to guess what devious, council-defying schemes churned behind the man's infamous sabacc face.

Yet with Anakin, he felt helpless. The boy didn't talk to him, and Obi-Wan, he shamefully recognized, didn't really talk to him either outside of training. He had made a few attempts to joke with his padawan, as he had often done with Qui-Gon. His master had teased him relentlessly as a padawan and Obi-Wan, a thoughtful and dutiful student who only wished to keep his aging master's wits sharp and his ego moderated, gave as good as he got. But even such subtle attempts had fallen flat with Anakin, who seemed, at best unsure, of how to take respond to his gentle teasing, and, at worst, frightened of him.

So he here he stood, in front of the mound of blankets and snot that was his sniffling padawan, with medicine already administered, with temperature already checked, with soup already eaten, and without a clue of how to proceed.

He shuffled his feet awkwardly and cleared his throat. "Anakin?" he asked. "Do you need anything else?"

The pile of blankets shifted slightly so that two blue eyes were facing Obi-Wan. "No, Master," mumbled Anakin.

"Are you quite sure, Padawan?" said Obi-Wan. Without thinking he added, "Because I'm quite sure I've seen ice planets with fewer blankets than you."

Anakin glanced sharply at his master before replying "Well, I'd ask you for robe to add an extra layer but the last one is probably still somewhere on the other end of the galaxy."

Anakin's eyes widened, realizing what had just come out of his mouth. Obi-Wan just blinked as he processed the fact that a) after only a year of knowing him his padawan had caught onto his unfortunate tendency to misplace certain articles of clothing and that b) Anakin had actually teased him back.

Obi-Wan pretended to frown and he felt Anakin's fear spike as he awaited his master's terrible reprimand.

"Well Anakin," said Obi-Wan sternly, "I do hope my robe is indeed on the other side of the galaxy. Then it would be spared the ghastly fate of acting as your tissue."

Anakin froze for a moment as caught the tendril of amusement floating through the Force. The sniffing padawan gave a hesitant smile before responding. "It would probably smell better as my tissue than your robe Master, with all the icky tea you've spilled on it."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "Tea is not icky, Padawan, it is soothing. A lesson those uncivilized droids you've been building could probably stand to learn."

Anakin was grinning now. "Sorry, Master, I never learned how to program 'civilized.'" He shot him a wicked glance. "The day I learn, I'll upload it into your hard drive too so you'll stop dropping your clothes everywhere like a barbarian."

Obi-Wan laughed for the first time in months. "Make sure to give yourself a tune-up while you're at it. Maybe then you'll learn to stop reheating the tea in the microwave."

Anakin laughed. "It tastes just as good, Master!"

Obi-Wan shook his head dramatically. "Where did I go wrong?" he sighed as Anakin giggled at his expense.

Suddenly, Anakin's giggles turned into a violent coughing fit. The boy's small body heaved as Anakin's eyes clenched in pain from his raw throat and aching ribs. Obi-Wan rushed to his side and began to tear the blankets off his choking padawan. He quickly bundled the child in his arms as he rubbed gentle cirlces on his back. "It's alright, Little One," he murmured soothingly as Anakin's small hands gripped his tunic. "It's alright. I'm here."

Anakin buried his face in Obi-Wan's neck as his coughing slowly subsided. Obi-Wan didn't know how long he sat there clutching Anakin, rocking the boy's too warm body back and forth. "I'm sorry," whispered Obi-Wan, "I shouldn't have made you laugh like that. It agitated your throat far too much."

To his surprise, Anakin responded with a weak chuckle. "I'm glad you did, Master. I was thinking you didn't even know how to laugh."

Obi-Wan smiled as he shifted the drowsy padawan from his shoulder to the bed once more. "For a while there, I didn't think I knew either," he admitted softly.

Carefully, Obi-Wan rearranged blankets around Anakin, tucking the boy in even more tightly than he had been before. He made a mental note to hunt down a few more.

Anakin's eyes were blinking slowly, barely holding off the pressing call of sleep. Obi-Wan reached over to the bedside table to grab a tissue which he gently held to his padawan's red nose. "Blow please, Anakin," he said. "I'd rather not have you suffocate in your sleep." Anakin acquiesced and blew into the tissue that Obi-Wan's careful fingers held. He watched as Obi-Wan made to throw the tissue away.

"I would have rather used your robe, Master," Anakin said quietly as he gave the man a small smile.

Obi-Wan chuckled and laid his hand lightly on the boy's forehead. "Keep working on your tea-making skills and we'll talk about your reward, hmm?" He brushed a few stray strands off of Anakin's warm face.

"Sleep now, Padawan," he said softly. "We can keep arguing when you wake up."

Anakin nodded slowly as he finally let his eyes closed. "I'm looking forward to it, Master," he whispered.

Obi-Wan smiled. To his surprise, he was looking forward to it as well.