Obi-Wan Kenobi x GN!Reader
Warnings: None! This is just some fluff for May the Fourth!
Summary-ish: Obi-Wan brings you flowers! That’s it! Super short and sweet! :)
I’m dying over the Kenobi trailer, you know. You know that, right?! I’m physically melting away. By the time that show is out, I’ll be either be dead or I’ll be pregnant by simply watching it. No in between. 🤰
P.S. THIS IS SO FLUFFY?! LIKE?! PURE FLUFF?! I’ve never been so innocent before. Weird. It’s also probably lame! Don’t @ me. I know I can do better. 😭😭
Sitting on your garden bench, you stare at the flowers striving in the sun. You never thought they would make it, but it seems you chose the right planet to live the rest of your days out on.
With your little farm and plump animals milling about, you find yourself happy and fulfilled… all thanks to one, tragically handsome, Jedi.
“Hello, my dear.” That beautiful voice fills the quiet evening, making you smile widely as your love sits beside you.
“What do you have there?” You question, tilting your head as Obi-Wan hides something in his hands behind his back. His blue eyes twinkle before he holds out a lovely bouquet of flowers. Blues and oranges, bright and beautiful.
“I saw them and thought of you.” Obi-Wan coos, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your rosey cheek. “I love you.” He tells you, melting your full heart as you lean into his strong chest, twirling the bouquet.
“I love you.” You reply with all your heart.
“Did you have a good day? Lots of gardening, I presume?” He asks, his strong arm wrapping around your shoulders.
“You know I did. I missed you.”
He hums, pulling you closer if even possible.
“My apologizes, dear. I’ll never leave your side again.” Obi-Wan promises.
“Silly man. You can’t do that.” You giggle.
“I declare it.” Obi-Wan states, making you giggle some more.
“Silly man.” You sigh, examining the bouquet. “But your my silly man.”
“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Thinking about the moment when Steve pushes Billy’s hope for the future straight off what has always seemed like a cliff that’ll plummet their relationship to its brain splattered death when the rock crumbles out from underneath them, but feels more like the first time he ever put mittens on his hands during winter when it happens.
Maybe Steve falls asleep on his chest when they’re supposed to be at work.
And the idea’s been floating past the screen in Billy’s mind for months now, flickering like a surge of power when he catches Steve doing something stupid, like resting a hot iron on the fabric of his favorite button down shirt because he just has to eat a bowl of midnight cereal while he gets everything ready for the morning. Or when Steve does something sweet, like the one time he bought Billy a succulent and planned to leave it at that, but one turned into another, then a lilac sapling, and a bonsai tree, and now they have a garden that’s quickly turning into a farm.
A dog, maybe. A chicken or two named Pat and Charles. And a half-built goat pin Steve’s confident Billy will get used to just like he did with everything else. Max gets the keys when they travel west for The Wildflower festival.
That week long excursion in Crested Butte, Colorado is supposed to be a good opportunity for their herbalism business. Networking, buying, and learning from some of the best in the game. They have a system, a spotless magic show to get where they want to be at half the price, and it’s successful enough to fund those stupid goats Steve won’t stop crying about. Steve charms the vendors into lowering their prices on everything from seedlings to sprouts to full apple trees, and Billy gets to haul the wheelbarrow around town and fuss over his new babies once Indiana calls.
It goes well for about two seconds. Their trailer is a third full by Wednesday, but then Steve gets distracted when he spots a festival brochure at breakfast, hypnotized by all this place has to offer.
The hiking, flower arranging, wreath making. Not to mention the cooking classes, where Steve can learn to bake apple pie that will have any one of the kids seeing shrimp colors, and Billy knows he should be more stern about the whole thing. Before leaving Indiana they swore to keep each other in line. Tethered to the ground and steady as a weathered oak, like always, but Billy gets caught up, too.
In the mountains. And the way it’s warm enough in the day to wear cutoffs but chilly enough when the sky goes dark that they can sleep out under the stars without having to worry about mosquitos.
It reminds him of home.
So on Friday he convinces Steve to skip the haggling and go on a picknick with him, all the way at the top of the hill overlooking the village.
Steve’s on board at first but he doesn’t wear the hiking boots Billy rented for him, so thirty minutes up the side of the hill he's ready to turn back.
Billy tries to be patient, seeing as how Steve’s lungs aren’t built for altitudes higher than sea level, but he’s not a saint. They snap at each other, and when Billy turns back to see Steve crying from the foot pain, he lifts Steve onto his back without saying a word.
He can only carry Steve for five minute bursts at a time, and the compass Steve borrowed from Dustin digs a hole in the back of his thigh every time he has to hoist their weight over a rock.
By the time they make it to the top of the hill, Steve collapses on the nearest spread of fluffy, pink dotted grass and drinks all of his water, never minding the trip that will come later.
Billy saddles in next to him and they eat their sandwiches in silence, each wrapped up in their terrible mood.
When lunch is over, Billy stands, dusting his hands on his pants and gearing up to tell Steve he’s gotta soldier through the journey back to the village, but Steve just lays back and stares up at the soft, feathery clouds with a, “It’s so pretty. Let’s stay a while.”
Billy’s sour mood evaporates the second he gets situated on his back and Steve, humming softly to himself, slides closer and closer until his head is pillowed on Billy’s chest.
Billy doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but a while later Steve worms onto his belly, practically laying on top of Billy as if he were a human mattress, and he starts snoring.
And drooling, just a little, on Billy’s muscle shirt, and.
If you had told Billy, at seventeen, that someday he’d own a spot of land with his high school arch-nemesis, and that they’d travel the world together, and that Billy would play the role of everything from an elevator to a pillow to a rain coat for the likes of Steve Harrington--
Billy would’ve proposed on the spot. Because he’s always wanted this with Steve. With Big Bambi Brown eyes, and no one else.
He can’t hold it in anymore.
“Hey,” He says softly, nudging Steve awake.
Steve snorts, arms tightening and pulling Billy half an inch closer before he hums a confirmation in a key that says you have three seconds before I fall asleep again.
Billy looks out over the mountains. “Would you marry me. If I asked?”
Steve nods, his nose rubbing soft on the collar of Billy’s tee-shirt.
He starts snoring again.
Billy imagines the world turning. The globe, with America and Colorado and Crested Butte and Billy, a camera zooming in on a spot of luck.