Chapter Text
The morning starts the same way every morning for the last eight years has started: with chaos.
It’s way more cacophonic within the small condo than it should be considering only two people live there— but between the rattling of Threepio’s many bottles of medication, the dog’s ever present whining, the whistling of the kettle, the general thumping and stomping and clattering noises of Anakin getting ready for school, the music blasting from Anakin’s room, and the phone ringing, it’s enough of a headache to make Obi-Wan seriously consider day drinking.
As soon as he’s done shovelling Threepio’s pills into the poor dog’s mouth, Obi-Wan stands up— winces when his knees crack obnoxiously loudly— and swipes the phone off the wall. He tucks the landline between his cheek and his shoulder as he reaches over and takes the old-fashioned kettle off the burner.
“This is a message from the government of the United States…” a monotone voice on the other end of the line starts, and Obi-Wan frowns in confusion. “We are calling to report that your identity has been hacked, please state your social security number and bank information to confirm— “
Obi-Wan groans and hangs up. He abandons the kettle next to the tea pot for now and goes over to knock on Anakin’s door. “Anakin!” He shouts to be heard over the near-incomprehensible rock music blaring from inside the room. “Anakin!” He knocks again.
“YEAH?” The teenager yells from the other side of the door, but doesn’t go to open it. Knowing Anakin, Obi-Wan doesn’t have to try the doorknob to know it’s locked— the ‘no dweebs allowed’ sign tacked on the door states very clearly he’s forbidden from entering, anyway. Anakin doesn’t turn his music down, either, so Obi-Wan has to keep shouting.
“Unless you want a ride within the next ten minutes, I’m afraid you’ll have to take the bus to school today! But you can have the car after, I have a few parent-teacher meetings tonight and I can take the bus back! Is that alright?”
There’s some shuffling around inside and the door unlocks and clicks open, revealing a sleep-rumpled and half dressed, half armed Anakin. “I’ll take the ride if it’s all the same to you. And yeah, that’s fine.”
Obi-Wan nods even though he doubts Anakin will be ready to leave in less than ten minutes. “Good lad,” he says, and Anakin rolls his eyes before slamming the door shut once more. As soon as that barrier is back Obi-Wan heaves a sigh and maneuvers back into the kitchen, that is only divided from the living room by a counter, and makes his tea.
Anakin isn’t the only one running late today. Obi-Wan hadn’t slept well all night, constantly waking up and falling back asleep and waking up and falling asleep again, and so had slept through his alarm-- which normally wouldn’t set off as tremendous a series of mishaps but he hadn’t showered last night so he needed to take one this morning, and then take Threepio out which is always an ordeal because the dog is afraid of his own shadow-- the only time he’s ever calm is when he’s in the car which Obi-Wan will never begin to understand-- then when he made breakfast he’d had to pack it up instead of actually eating it, which he was going to have to pack Anakin’s, too, instead of leaving it out for him like he normally would, if he was coming into school early with him. Then he had to feed and medicate Threepio, and now he was putting his tea in a thermos to have with his breakfast at his desk before class, while he finished up his lesson plans for the day, instead of being able to actually sit for a moment and savour a nice morning, for once.
The tea is barely finished steeping when he fills the thermos with it. They’re running out of time and Anakin hasn’t emerged yet. Obi-Wan grabs Anakin’s lunchbag off the cluttered counter and is about to pound on his door again when the aforementioned teenager comes barrelling out into the main part of the condo, hair still a mess but at least fully dressed and presentable. Anakin takes his lunch in his prosthetic hand and uses his flesh hand to pull his sneakers on, half stumbling and half leaning against the wall to do it, his overstuffed backpack slung over one shoulder. Obi-Wan huffs at his young charge’s antics and laces up his own shoes, grabbing his messenger bag and waiting by the door.
He’s just double checking he has his wallet, keys and phone when Anakin straightens with a mock salute. “Ready!” He says. Obi-Wan looks him up and down with a raised eyebrow.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Anakin just looks at him blankly for a second before he jumps. “Right! My fencing gear! Right.” He shuffles back into his room and emerges again a couple seconds later with the large black bag.
Contrary to the condo that morning, the car ride to school is silent and awkward. Anakin has his headphones on and the radio is off, and Obi-Wan can hear the tinny sounds of music playing full volume from Anakin’s headphones. He wants to scold him about damaging his hearing but if he tried Anakin either wouldn’t hear him or would just ignore him. He wants to ask how Anakin is liking his senior year so far, but knows Anakin would either not hear him or would just ignore him. He’s been doing that a lot, lately. Obi-Wan would be lying if he said he isn’t worried about how much Anakin has been growing distant lately.
They arrive at the school before Obi-Wan can figure out how to broach any sort of topic of conversation. He pulls into the staff parking lot and before he’s even fully stopped the car Anakin is throwing off his seatbelt and jumping out. Obi-Wan yelps and slams on the brakes, but Anakin is already racing off towards the back field without a word, slamming the passenger door shut behind him and leaving his fencing gear in the backseat. Obi-Wan has to resist the urge to thunk his forehead on the steering wheel.
It’s only when he’s made it all the way to his desk in the classroom that’s been unofficially dubbed as his, sat down and taken out his tupperware of now room temperature and rubbery scrambled eggs that he realizes he forgot his tea at home.
It’s just after eight thirty am and the grass of the back field is only just starting to lose its morning dew, making the toes of Anakin’s shoes damp as he makes his way across the back field to where the football team is having an unofficial practise-- tryouts are after school today, but when one of the things your school is most famous for is its legendary football team, you find they like to get a head start on the season. Coach Krell is there and everything, barking orders at the team as they run through drills. Anakin eyes the large, imposing man as he slinks up to the bleachers and tries not to shudder. Boy, is he glad he only ever had Mr. Fisto for gym.
Anakin finds a seat on the bleachers and hunkers down, eagerly opening his lunchbag. If he eats all his lunch now, maybe he can convince Obi-Wan to give him a ten to get lunch from the cafeteria. He’s a growing boy, after all-- and today is lasagna day. The school’s lasagna is so bad but so good. It’s like a big mushy pile of pure awful deliciousness. He absently watches the guys on the field toss the ball back and forth while he munches on his apple slices. He only kind of gets football, fencing is his sport, but Rex has been on the team since forever and so Anakin has been to nearly all of the school’s games. And he’s not likely to start missing them now, especially since Rex is the team captain this year.
He scans the field for his best friend’s familiar shock of platinum blond among the other players, that, to Anakin’s eternal amusement, almost all share a very similar face. The Fett family is huge and sprawling, dozens of brothers and cousins and a few sisters-- and it’s almost like playing football is a family rite of passage. He could probably count on one hand the number of guys on the team that don’t share the same brown skin and brown eyes every Fett has.
Anakin eats his breakfast and sends Padmé memes until the unofficial practise is over, fifteen minutes before first bell. The team disperses, and Anakin looks around at the other spectators gathered in small groups along the bleachers and the edge of the field. It’s mostly girls-- Anakin recognizes more than a few cheerleaders, even though he’s never been into cheerleaders, and some other girls that have no stakes in football but just fancy guys on the team. Internally Anakin smacks himself-- ‘fancy’, he has got to stop picking up Obi-Wan’s dumb slang.
Rex spends another few minutes talking to some of the other guys before he jogs up to where Anakin is sitting. “Oh cool, Kenobi lunch. Can I have some?” He says instead of an actual greeting. Anakin just hands him a container of greek salad and a reusable plastic fork. The football star grins and accepts it eagerly, sitting next to Anakin on the cool metal bleacher and digging into the homemade salad with gusto.
“I don’t know why you don’t appreciate Mr. Kenobi’s lunches more,” Rex says with his mouth full, “They’re always so good. God I wish my dad still made me lunches every day, you don’t even know how good you have it.”
Anakin bites down furiously on a baby carrot. “Obi-Wan is not my dad.” He says with a surprising amount of venom, and Rex gives him a side eye before he keeps talking.
“Well, Cody doesn’t pack me lunches either. Seriously, you don’t know how good you have it.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Anakin shrugs and grabs his backpack from where it’s propped on the bench under them. “You guys all idolize him way too much. I don’t know how to make you see the truth in how much of a total weirdo dweeb Obi-Wan is.”
He stands, and so does Rex, and together they pick their way over to where Rex’s bag is, in the giant pile of stuff that the team dumped right before quote unquote practice. On their way they pass a small huddle of girls that all giggle and wave at them when Rex passes by. He waves back, completely casual, and certainly aware of the effect he has on the girls. Anakin tries and fails to hide a smirk.
“So what’s new in the world of feeted-ball?” Anakin says, and Rex grimaces.
“Don’t ever say feeted-ball ever again. And, Fives is gonna try out for the team this year-- he’s definitely gonna make it, he’s great. He just needs to get used to playing with a team, is all. What’s new in the world of Skywalker?”
“I miss Padmé,” Anakin says without skipping a beat. Rex rolls his eyes, and Anakin punches him on the arm. “Hey! I’m totally allowed to miss her, she’s on the other side of the fucking country!”
“California isn’t-- okay it’s pretty much the other side of the country, but come on, man, she’ll be back for Thanksgiving before you know it. You can survive until then.”
“I don’t know Rex, I think I might actually just die.” Anakin stumbles off the path back towards the school building and slumps dramatically against a fence, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead and all. Rex laughs at him, and Anakin looks up at the sky, face suddenly carefully blank. “I, uh. I bought a bottle of her shampoo and I smell it when I get sad.”
That makes Rex just scream with laughter, the bastard, and Anakin pouts at him. “Hey, don’t bully me!”
Rex ignores him, because they both know Rex and his friendly bullying is all that stands between Anakin and an overinflated ego. “Come on you fucking loser,” He says, grabbing Anakin by the arm and dragging him towards the back entrance where more and more students are starting to file in as first period grows closer. “We’re gonna be late at this rate.”
The two seniors shove their way through the crowd and into the school, wanting to get to their lockers before they have to rush off to first period. “Is it a day one or a day two?” Anakin shouts over the chattering of students and slamming of lockers around them. Beside him, Rex shrugs.
“Dunno, but I hope it’s a day one-- I haven’t finished the chem worksheet yet!” He shouts back, and Anakin stops dead in the middle of the hallway.
“There was a chem worksheet?” He asks, fear in his eyes, when Rex turns to see why his friend stopped. Rex starts to shoot him a look of amusement and vague disappointment, when something behind Anakin catches his eye. He taps on the taller teen’s shoulder and nods at something over his shoulder, and Anakin turns to see what.
A gap in the throng of students opens up just in time for them both to see a young girl with vitiligo, blue and white braids, and an obviously-too-small red t-shirt being really thoroughly chewed out by coach Krell. They can’t hear what he’s saying, but he’s looming menacingly over her and the poor girl looks like she wants to crawl in a hole and hide forever, an obvious embarrassed flush to her cheeks. Rex and Anakin exchange a look, but before either of them can go see if she’s okay the girl scampers off in the other direction, her small frame quickly swallowed up by the crowd. The two boys make a noise of regret and turn back the other way, still having a class to get to.
“Poor girl,” Rex says. Anakin nods in agreement.
“Must have been a freshman, I didn’t recognize her.” He frowns. “Man, I fucking hate Krell.”
Rex seems to hesitate, but Anakin knows that internally, he wants to agree with him. “He’s… harsh, yeah, but his methods are effective. And he has a mind for football not many others do. I just wish he wasn’t…”
“Such a dick?” Anakin finishes for him. Rex nods like he’d just said something very wise, instead of just using a profanity to describe a teacher.
Then the bell rings, cutting through the noise of the hallway, and both Rex and Anakin curse and break out into a run.
Obi-Wan smothers a sigh when Anakin and Rex burst into the classroom just as second bell goes off, signifying the beginning of class. They throw themselves into their seats and steadfastly ignore Obi-Wan’s disapproving look as if they hadn’t been seconds away from being late for class. “Good morning, everyone,” He stands from his desk and moves in front of the chalkboard, waiting for everyone to get settled in. A good few ‘good morning’s are mumbled back to him, and he smiles.
Class starts out pretty well, especially considering it’s the first class of the day and full of twelfth graders no less. They seem to be paying enough attention for Obi-Wan to be satisfied-- except that Rex is clearly working on an assignment for another class, which Obi-Wan forgives because Rex has always been a good student and a smart young man. And, of course, Anakin is dozing off, because he just loves to make his life difficult. Obi-Wan lets it slide for now as he introduces the short story unit, and starts up the powerpoint about the pieces they’re going to read as a class.
Halfway through the lesson the classroom phone rings, and Obi-Wan stops mid-sentence with a quick apology to his students to go answer it. The classroom phones are all old, corded things, and Obi-Wan plucks the clunky receiver off the wall.
“Room 134, Obi-Wan Kenobi speaking,” He says, paying no mind to the rising chatter among the students. “How can I help you?”
“Obi-Wan,” replies the warm, deep voice of Mr. Koon. “I thought a reminder may be in order that Anakin has a guidance appointment at noon today.”
“Ah, yes,” Obi-Wan nods. “I’ll pass it on to him, thank you, Plo.”
He hangs up the phones and the chatter dims but doesn’t die as he approaches Anakin, still asleep slumped over his desk. Obi-Wan crouches next to him, and the other students around them hush up as they wait to see what’s going to happen (out of the corner of his eye, he notices Rex trying to subtly cover up what he’d been working on, however, Rex is as subtle as Anakin is, which is to say, not very, and Obi-Wan spots what looks like chemistry. He turns a blind eye).
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan croons. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” He nudges Anakin’s shoulder, and the teen jerks upright with a snort, already wiping away the drool on his chin.
“Wha--?”
Obi-Wan smiles saccharine sweet at him. “Just a reminder that you have a guidance appointment at noon, love.”
Anakin coughs, red in the face, and looks down at his desk. “Right, uh, thanks.”
He squawks and swats Obi-Wan’s hand away when the man ruffles his hair with a chuckle. Some of the kids around them snicker, and Anakin sinks further into his seat. Obi-Wan doesn’t bother nagging him about his posture-- the boy has been put on the spot enough already.
The rest of the class passes blissfully uneventfully. Obi-Wan passes around the first handout, finishes explaining the assignment, and even manages to fit in some extra time in the last few minutes for the students to start reading the first short story independently before they start reading it as a class tomorrow. The bell rings and immediately the students are packing up and evacuating, on their way to second period. Anakin offers him little other than a stuck-out tongue on his way out.
Obi-Wan sits heavily at his desk as the last stragglers file out of the room, really starting to feel the fact that he hasn’t had any caffeine yet today. He gathers himself up, fully intending to make optimal use of the five minutes he has before his next class starts. On day ones it’s twelfth grade university-level english in the morning, followed by tenth grade history. Yippee , Obi-Wan thinks with one hundred percent sarcasm.
Someone in the open doorway clearing their throat has Obi-Wan’s attention snapping up, and he startles out of his seat when he sees who it is.
“Mister Fett!” Obi-Wan dashes over to greet the shop teacher leaning ever so slightly against the doorframe. The unique scar curled around the man’s brow stretches as he gives Obi-Wan a particular half smile that Obi-Wan has rather helplessly always found quite charming. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Mister Kenobi,” Cody greets him in turn. “I had a feeling you would be needing this.” In his hands he is holding two to-go cups from the nearby cafe, and he holds one out to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan keenly accepts it, careful not to let their fingers touch as he takes the hot cup-- he has an irrational fear just that little bit of contact would be electrifying enough to make him drop the cup, and he really does not want that. He pops the lid off to be met with the wonderful sight and smell of chai-- certainly caffeinated. He gives Cody a grateful smile.
“My knight in shining armour.” He says. “How did you know?”
A student squeezes past them, and the two teachers shuffle to take up less space in the doorway. Cody shrugs. “Seemed like it was gonna be one of those days,” he says. “Anyways, I’ve got to get down to the basement and unlock the workshop so my kids aren’t stranded in the hall, but I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“I’m sure you will. I’m hard to miss.” Obi-Wan smirks and Cody returns it.
“Yeah, especially when you’re swinging that flashy sword of yours around. Later, Kenobi.” And with that Cody is retreating into the between-classes traffic.
“Goodbye,” Obi-Wan waves him off and returns to his desk as more kids start to arrive. He takes a sip of the tea and fights down a pleased little smile and the rabbit-rapid fluttering of his heart all at once, scolding himself in a voice that sounds suspiciously like vice-principal Windu’s about workplace appropriateness.
Then he thinks back on their conversation and wants to smack himself-- ‘I’m hard to miss’ ? Seriously? Dear God, I’ve lost my touch , he thinks woefully, and promptly concludes it’s a miracle Cody even talks to him at all.
Lunch both can’t come soon enough and comes way too soon for Anakin. The first thing he does when the bell rings at 11:45 is sprint out of the chemistry classroom (he’d scrambled to copy everything off of Rex’s worksheet in the minutes before the teacher collected them and he was certain the teacher could tell, and would tell Obi-Wan, and his shame was great) and down to Obi-Wan’s classroom before the man could retreat into the staff room. It took little needling to get the lunch money from Obi-Wan, which he handed over with a long suffering sigh and an order for Anakin to bring him a chocolate pudding in recompense. So Anakin races down to the cafeteria and gets his lasagna and Obi-Wan’s pudding, pockets the extra change with zero remorse and then runs back up to the guidance office.
He gets there with a couple minutes to spare and plunks down in one of the seats around the long oval table to scarf down his lasagna in all its mushy glory. He's totally at ease in the familiar office-- Anakin has spent a lot of time in guidance over the years, he can freely admit with only a small pang of embarrassment. He claims one of those weird but fun wobbly seats at the end of the table and looks around the large office as he eats. Mr. Sinube is sitting behind the front desk today, probably asleep. The door behind the desk that leads to the main office is closed, but most of the counsellors’ office doors are open, except for Mr. Koon’s. He must be seeing someone else right now.
There are a couple of other students milling around, too. One other sitting at the table with Anakin, very focused on their colouring sheet, two kids sitting on the couch by the back door, one clearly comforting the other about something, but their voice is tactfully low and Anakin can’t hear what they’re saying. Another is pretending like they’re looking at all the binders full of information about college applications but is actually very clearly eyeing the basket of condoms on the shelf next to them. Anakin is just placing bets with himself on whether or not they’re gonna work up the nerve to grab one when the door to Mr. Koon’s office opens and the same girl he and Rex had seen that morning walks out. She looks a lot crankier than she did earlier, a feisty set to her jaw, and Anakin supposes that’s better than looking like a frightened rabbit.
She also has a baggy school sweater on, he notices as she storms out. It’s not hard to guess what coach Krell must have been yelling at her for. Mr. Koon calls him in, and Anakin grabs his bag and his mostly-eaten lasagna and walks into the small office.
The Sikh man is sitting on one of the chairs at the small round table in the corner of his office as opposed to behind his desk as he usually did, which Anakin knows he does in order to seem friendlier, because new students tend to be a little scared of him-- not because of the turban, or at least, that had better not be the case, but because Mr. Koon has very… cryptic energy. Some kind of vaguely foreboding vibes, even though the man is actually very nice.
Batman vibes. Mr. Koon is like Batman.
“Good afternoon, Mister Skywalker,” Mr. Koon smiles at him-- or at least, Anakin is pretty sure he’s smiling, based off the lines on his face. The man’s beard is so thick there’s debate on whether or not he actually has a mouth. He sounds like he’s smiling. “Take a seat. How have you been?”
“Alright,” Anakin places his bag on the floor and sits across from Mr. Koon. “I mean, it’s only been a couple weeks, but things are picking up, I guess.”
Mr. Koon nods. “Yes. Now, we’ve already had our start-of-year check in. I remember you had questions already about scholarships. Are you here to explore those options some more?”
“No, uh,” Anakin drums his fingers on the table, watching the jerky movements of his prosthetic hand. “Well, partly. I was actually thinking about it all some more, and I was wondering if you could help me with, uh, early college applications?”
The guidance counsellor nods sagely, already pulling out a thick folder. “Of course,” he says. “Let’s see what I can do.”
By the time Anakin emerges from the office he’s nearly shaking in nervous anticipation. The appointment had gone way longer than he thought it would, but now he’s already ready to put in an early application to pretty much every college and university he’s ever even considered going to. Just the application fees are going to be expensive, Anakin knows, and an unbidden memory resurfaces of Obi-Wan late at night, sitting at the kitchen table, nearly a dozen bills spread out in front of him, his head in his hands. He’d thought Anakin was asleep. He wasn’t.
It’s going to be fine. He’ll apply for as many scholarships as he can, get a part time job if he has to. They’re not going to end up on the streets or anything-- Anakin shudders-- they’re going to be fine.
The bell ringing startles Anakin out of his musings, and he swears, breaking out into a run towards the stairwell. He may have a pretty blasé attitude towards most of his classes-- except physics, but he doesn’t have that until next semester-- but shop is pretty much the only class Anakin has right now that he actually really likes, and he does not want to be late. Also, Obi-Wan would forgive him pretty much anything, except probably murder, but Rex’s older brother is intimidating as hell. Rex swears Cody was never in the army, but he totally could be if he wanted to. Man, that guy has a good yell.
Speaking of good yells, it’s as Anakin is sprinting down the stairs to the basement that a sudden fierce shout echoing in the stairwell above him almost sends him somersaulting down the last flight.
“Skywalker!” Vice-principal Windu thunders, and Anakin freezes, catching himself on the railing. He cringes and slowly turns around as the second VP storms down the steps towards him. “What have I told you about running on the stairs!”
“To… not… do it.” Anakin hesitates, and Mr. Windu crosses his arms… well, crossly.
“This is the fourth time I have caught you like this in just two weeks . You know what that means, Skywalker.”
Anakin gapes at him, starting to protest, but Mr. Windu has already started speaking. “Detention, one hour, after school, today. You know where to be.”
“What! An hour! This is outrageous, it’s unfair! An hour?!” Anakin cries before he can think better of it. Mr. Windu just raises a very unimpressed eyebrow at him.
“Would you like it to be two? I can make it two.”
Anakin splutters. “But I have practise--“
“Oh, I’m aware.” Mr. Windu snaps. “Maybe next time, you will think twice about your blatant disregard for the rules.”
“I wasn’t even— it’s not even a big deal—“
“Two hours.” Mr. Windu’s words are painfully final, and with the last word firmly in his grasp he brushes past Anakin and exits the stairwell, leaving the teen fuming on the stairs.
Anakin snarls and kicks the railing viciously, his blood boiling. He can’t miss practise!
But he can’t skip detention, either— especially not in his senior year, when that will look really bad on his record.
Second bell rings, and Anakin stomps and curses all the way to shop.