Chapter Text
Anakin Skywalker met Mr. Kenobi when he was 16 years old.
It was a Sunday, during the fair his school had organised to celebrate the beginning of Fall. He — with no one to visit or miss him at all—, had been tasked with keeping company the children whose parents weren’t at the event. Korkie Kryze-Kenobi was his only companion, two years younger than him and the son of two very important Senators that were busy more often than not.
However, as Anakin was debating just leaving the ‘waiting area’ and explore the event alongside Korkie, Korkie’s father — Mr. Kenobi — arrived with long strides, posh and elegant in his Senator regalia, and a determined look on his face.
He barely contained himself from staring with his jaw dropped at the older man, handsome and so imposing in his stance as he addressed Korkie with his hands on his hips. His knees trembled when Mr. Kenobi directed a smile at him, polite and small at first, before a grin covered his features, a dangerous look in his eyes.
“Thank you for keeping my son company,” Mr. Kenobi said, his voice soft like velvet. “I hope your parents were okay with it.”
“I’m an orphan,” Anakin blurted in response, a deep blush covering his cheeks. “No… no parents to keep waiting,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.
Mr. Kenobi just hummed, a look on his face Anakin couldn’t decipher.
“Father, would it be okay if Ani joined us for the day?” Korkie had asked innocently, his blue eyes wide open towards his dad. For a 14 year old, Korkie was very much still a kid in Anakin’s eyes. “I don’t want him to be alone during the Autumn Fair.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” Mr. Kenobi replied, a smirk on his face. “He should definitely join us, then.”
“Oh… I wouldn’t want to impo…” Anakin began saying before Mr. Kenobi interrupted him, raising his hand to silence him. His blush intensified at the demonstration of authority from Mr. Kenobi, the fire in his gut licking his insides.
“Nonsense,” Mr. Kenobi said, his voice like a soft caress to Anakin’s skin. “Is the least I could do since you’re always there for Korkie when neither me nor his mother are.”
“Is no trouble, sir,” Anakin replied eagerly, wanting to assure both the kid at his side and the older man in front of him that keeping Korkie company was something he truly cherished. “Korkie is a great kid.”
Korkie smiled excitedly in response — if only after a little frown appeared on his face —, his hold on Anakin’s hand tightening just a little, making Anakin smile. While there were moments he couldn’t understand how Mr. Kenobi or Mrs. Kryze weren’t there for Korkie all the time, the same way he remembered his mother being at his school events for him, in a selfish way he appreciated their busy schedule, because without Korkie’s company Anakin had nothing else going on for him in his life.
Everyone at school judged him for being the ‘scholarship kid’, the kid who hadn’t grown up like the rest of them at the fancy boarding school Temple Academy. To everyone there, priests, nuns, students, administrative people alike, Anakin was nothing better than dirt on their shoes… until a robotic competition happened and he became their biggest asset.
“Then,” Mr. Kenobi said, dragging Anakin away from his thoughts as his voice acquired an edge that made Anakin want to kneel for the man, “you wouldn’t want to disappoint Korkie here, right… Ani?”
The way Mr. Kenobi said Anakin’s childhood nickname made it sound indecent, almost like forbidden fruit. Forbidden fruit that Anakin was desperate to taste.
“Of… of course not, Mr. Kenobi,” Anakin stumbled through his response, his heart hammering inside his chest as his palms started sweating. “Korkie is very important to me.”
As Korkie dragged him away from the waiting area, Mr. Kenobi kept staring at Anakin, making him self conscious of his appearance. He knew he still had one last growth spurt on him, as his body still had to catch up with his dangly arms and legs. His clothes, all second hand and nowhere near designer like the rest of his peers, hung loosely on his body, making him look ganglier than he actually was.
He tended not to care about what others thought of him, having resigned himself to a life of solitude and loneliness, preferring to stay in the mechanics lab with his droids to keep him company. But, for some reason, Anakin wanted Mr. Kenobi to think good of him, not as a poor orphan with only mended clothes and a backpack to his name.
He wanted to be someone worthy of Mr. Kenobi’s attention.
He’s married, he reminded himself every time Mr. Kenobi looked at him and butterflies erupted on his stomach, his cheeks reddening the longer the older man stared at him. When his hands accidentally brushed, either when Mr. Kenobi handed him some food or they were standing side by side as Korkie was busy with his turn at a one of the games, Anakin’s skin burnt with a demanding fire for him to grab Mr. Kenobi’s hand and never let him go.
Thankfully, more often than not, Korkie was in the middle of them, serving as a buffer for Anakin’s desires towards his father. The older man made Anakin want to break every teaching the nuns at school had made him memorise since he was a little kid, falling to his knees for something other than prayer.
As he looked at Korkie, so young and excited for a day with his father, Anakin wished he had someone waiting for him at the end of the day. Anakin knew how important parents were, no matter how much Korkie rolled his eyes at them whenever they visited him, as every day he missed his mother more and more, an aching in his chest nothing could calm.
For better or for worse, the day ended and it was time to say goodbye. Anakin held Korkie’s hand in reassurance as Mr. Kenobi started to say his goodbyes to them, feeling his heart break a little at the knowledge that it would be a long time until he saw Mr. Kenobi again. Korkie was rolling his eyes at whatever his father was saying to him, but Anakin held on strong because he knew that as days went on Korkie would start missing his parents.
He had comforted the kid enough times to know Korkie tended to long for his parents' attention and love more than he let on.
“And thank you for keeping us company, Anakin,” Mr. Kenobi said, his velvety voice a soft purr in Anakin’s ears, “it was a delightful evening by your side.”
“Father,” Korkie said, a forced smile on his face, his grip on Anakin’s hand just a little painful, “is getting late. Mother is probably finishing her speech and is heading home as we speak.”
“Of course,” Mr. Kenobi replied with a smile on his face that seemed at odds with his eyes.
Before Anakin could ponder on the uneasiness it caused on him the interaction between father and son, Mr. Kenobi returned to look at him, his smile softening and making Anakin’s heart twist inside his chest.
“Good night… Ani.”
“Go… good night, Mr. Kenobi,” Anakin stuttered his reply, hating himself for it as Mr. Kenobi walked away from them with a smirk on his face. Anakin blushed while cursing himself for his behaviour, thinking Mr. Kenobi probably thought of him as nothing but a dumb teenager.
“Sorry about my father,” Korkie said with a roll of his eyes, a small smile on his face as he turned to look at Anakin. “He… he’s too much of a politician sometimes.”
“Is okay, Korkie,” Anakin reassured the kid as he squeezed Korkie's hand one more time before letting him go. “At least he was here, if only for a few hours.”
“Right,” Korkie mumbled, kicking the dirt as they made their way towards the school, the air night cool and breezy around them.
Anakin was okay with a little silence with Korkie, knowing they didn’t need to always talk to keep each other company. Korkie was a great friend, despite their difference in age and opinions in different matters, and Anakin liked to think they would be friends for many years to come.
But Mr. Kenobi… Anakin had never met a man as alluring and enticing as him. It was the way his auburn hair glistened under the lights of the stalls, the few silver hairs in his temples making him look refined and wise instead of old and vile; his perfect beard, auburn with few grey hairs peppered in it, had looked so soft and well kept, that Anakin hadn't been able to stop himself from dreaming about rubbing his face on it.
The nuns and priests had always warned them about the sins of the flesh, the weakness of the spirit, ever since he was barely old enough to understand what they were saying. Anakin liked to believe he had heard them all and understood what would happen to him if he strayed from the Light, images of torture and fiery punishment in the beyond always present in his worst nightmares every time he considered the possibility.
But Mr. Kenobi made him want to sin in the worst way possible, and he was hopeless in the face of such desire.
Arriving at the dormitories, Anakin bid Korkie goodbye at the entrance, walking away from the kid without looking back, too deep in his thoughts about Mr. Kenobi. What would his hands feel like against Anakin’s skin? Would they be rough and calloused or soft and smooth like his voice?
He’s married, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time, his gut twisting uncomfortably inside of him. Mr. Kenobi was married to the beautiful Mrs. Kryze, and had been for longer than Anakin had been alive. It was something that had to be respected, no matter his desires.
The chapel was closed at that hour, Father Yoda fast asleep in his chambers, so confession wasn’t the way to atone for his sinful thoughts. Anakin felt guilty for the way he felt alive whenever Mr. Kenobi’s hand grazed him by accident, or how his skin tingled after Mr. Kenobi’s hands had cupped his waist to push him aside as Anakin had been in the way of some people wanting to walk through the fair.
Anakin had blushed and stumbled after the action, forgiving Mr. Kenobi after the man apologised for “such crassness”, as he had had little to no time to grab Anakin before he would've been pushed to the ground. Anakin had only been thankful Korkie hadn’t seen, as he didn’t want his friend to think the worst of him and how he needed constant rescue like a damsel in distress.
But the feeling of Mr. Kenobi’s hands, big on Anakin’s lithe body, made him want to explore his own body in the quiet of the night, away from prying eyes. The nuns and priests had always cautioned him against such practices, for it would entice the Dark to approach him, as the Light turned its eyes away from him after such a betrayal.
But Anakin’s skin tingled everywhere Mr. Kenobi had touched him, for as brief as it had been it had become seared into his body for the rest of eternity, and he needed something to quell his insides. Would it be too bad if he surrendered to the pleasures of the flesh?
As his hand drifted through his body, Anakin stopped in his movements as a noise outside startled him out of his thoughts. It’s a sin, he reminded himself, knowing the Force was watching his every movement, ready to punish him as soon as he failed. Anakin couldn’t fail, wouldn’t fail, for if he Fell, he’d have no one by his side. No Korkie to keep him company, no nuns to judge and condemn him.
No one but himself.
The week passed with little to no issue, thoughts of Mr. Kenobi at the back of his head, forgotten as the light of day and his classes reminded him of his place. He was a servant of good, a pupil of the Light, and nothing could tempt him from it.
He was better than the pleasures and sins of the flesh.
On Friday, the day before everyone left for the weekend and he was left alone — with Korkie more often than not —, Anakin was called to the Principal’s office right as the last class of the day started. Everyone laughed as his cheeks reddened in fury, knowing that the only reason he was ever called was because Cliegg wanted to give him an earful over something stupid and senseless.
Before his mother died, she had married a farmer named Cliegg Lars. Anakin had never understood why his mother agreed to marry the man, even if he wasn’t unpleasant or mean like Watto had been, because he had seen how his mother had never loved him, despite Cliegg’s instances of the opposite.
After her death, Cliegg had a hard time looking at him so when Anakin had won the scholarship to a prestigious school, Cliegg hadn’t hesitated to send him away. Tatooine had never been home — his mother had been home — but it had still stung when he left the place, memories of his mother in every corner he looked.
Cliegg never visited him, wrote to him or checked on him if it wasn’t anything other than to criticise whatever his teachers had told him on their reports. Anakin had only been at school for a couple of months, and he hadn’t caused a lot of trouble as far as he was aware, but Cliegg always found something to criticise.
As he approached the office, Principal Palpatine was expecting him, a forced smile on his face. Anakin had interacted with the Principal more than any other student at Temple Academy, and he was the adult he trusted the most outside of his classes.
But the nuns and priests had always warned him about being left alone with the man, especially Father Yoda, so Anakin had refused any invitation the older man had extended to talk outside of his office, to “think of him as a friend rather than his Principal”. Anakin knew Principal Palpatine meant it in a grandfatherly way, but the whispers of sin, of temptation already followed him as the ‘scholarship kid’, so he couldn’t prove them right by engaging socially with Principal Palpatine.
“Young Skywalker,” Principal Palpatine said, his voice strained, “I’m sorry to call you out of class, but…”
“It’s okay, sir,” Anakin said with a smile, “it's probably nothing.”
“Well, my boy…”
“If you don’t mind, sir,” Anakin said, holding back the flinch the words “my boy” had caused in him, the uneasiness the possessiveness of them had made him feel. "The sooner I get in there, the sooner I can return to class.”
Without waiting for a response, fully expecting Cliegg to reprimand him for something or the other as soon as he opened the door, Anakin prepared for the worst. Rolling his eyes in annoyance at whatever his step-father had in store for him, he entered the office with little care, closing the door behind him so Principal Palpatine couldn’t hear whatever it was Cliegg had to say.
However, as he turned around, a quip already on his lips, he stopped in his tracks at the sight that welcomed him to the room.
“Hello there… Anakin.”