you were talking about catty obi wan a few days ago which reminded me a little bit of the smithsonian au we havent heard abt her in a little! i love it so so much especially that one snippet you have at the party where obi decides hes leaving. that one makes me feral bfhddjjf out of pure curiosity if you were to write another little segment what would you write for that one?
here is another little segment! autumnally themed (the aforementioned 'cuffing season' ficlet, but make anakin and obi-wan literally unhinged and criminally oblivious)
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“Padmé,” Anakin Skywalker throws his wrapped sandwich onto the table before swinging the chair around so he can lean his front against the backrest, work slacks tightening indecently along the stretch of his thighs.
Obi-Wan puts his half-eaten salad panini aside. His mouth is suddenly very dry, which happens sometimes when he eats bread. He takes a sip of his American lemonade, a product that still fascinates him.
“Hello, Anakin,” Padmé greets from the head of the little table. “How have you been?”
“I think I’m lonely, Padmé,” Anakin declares. He’s not looked at Obi-Wan once, which really is just rude. “I think I want to get a girlfriend.”
“Pass,” Padmé says and bites at the tightest curl of her curly fries.
“Not you,” Anakin hurries to say. “We tried that already. It was awful.”
Padmé arches an eyebrow.
“You weren’t awful,” Anakin says even faster. “Just—together—we weren’t—“
Obi-Wan’s stomach feels awfully tight. Perhaps he has overeaten or the sandwich from the food court Panera has not agreed with him.
“It’s autumn,” Anakin says sullenly as he starts ripping the plastic covering off his lunch.
“Who’s Autumn?” Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to say anything. Drat.
But the question stands. He hasn't heard of any new employees at the Air and Space Museum. Perhaps Autumn is a construction worker, Heaven knows they’ve been hanging around there for the better part of two years. Maybe Autumn is a girl from Texas. Maybe Autumn is a woman Anakin’s met on one of his nights out on the town that always show up on his Instagram stories, not that Obi-Wan watches those. Maybe she’s an attractive, busty woman who works as a consultant in Navy Yard.
No, Anakin wouldn’t go to Navy Yard on principle. Adams Morgan. Maybe he met Autumn at a bar in Adams Morgan. Maybe—
A hand lands on his forearm. “The season, darling,” Padmé tells him in a very mocking tone.
Obi-Wan can feel his cheeks heating at the same time Anakin says accusingly, “Darling?”
“Why do you want a girlfriend because of the season? Do you plan to have a boyfriend for the spring and a partner in the summer?”
Anakin shoots him a very dirty look before glaring at the hand Padmé has rested on his skin until she removes it to eat another curly fry.
“Have you never heard of cuffing season?” Padmé asks him with interest. “Do they not have that in the United Kingdom?”
“I think it’s less of a British thing and more of an old man thing,” Anakin replies, kicking out beneath the table and brushing past Obi-Wan’s foot with forceful intent.
Padmé cuts in before Obi-Wan can respond which is, probably, for the better. “Cuffing season in America is what people call it when you date someone for a short period of time so that you can partake in the typical couple activities of the next few months. Pumpkin patch picking, horror movie watching, couples costumes, thanksgiving dinner, ice skating….”
Obi-Wan furrows hooks eyebrows in confusion. “Can’t you do all that with a group of friends?”
“Not romantically,” Anakin replies. He’s bitten into his sandwich and is partly through with chewing. There’s mustard on his chin. Obi-Wan decides not to tell him.
“So you want a girlfriend for a few months? And then what? Dump her in January?”
“Exactly,” Anakin says. “But I suppose I’m open to the possibility of dating a girl for cuffing season and then marrying her later because she turned out to be the love of my life. Sounds romantic, doesn’t it?”
For reasons Obi-Wan isn’t going to think about too hard, it quite literally sounds like the worst thing imaginable. Anakin, married?
“And how will you convince some poor lass to date you?” He asks, perhaps more waspishly than he intended.
Anakin’s mouth falls open in offense. “I could get anyone I wanted to date me! And I don’t recall asking your opinion, Kenobi.”
“It’s called a conversation, I believe. When one person says something and another responds. Or do you just talk to listen to your own voice?”
“I like listening to my voice much better than I like listening to yours.”
“That’s unusual. Most all of the Americans I’ve met think my voice is lovely. They certainly seem to enjoy it during—“
“And I’ve lost my appetite, thank you both,” Padmé sighs and stands, crumbling up her paper container of fries and hamburger wrappings. “Anakin, I’m not going to set you up with one of my friends. I don’t want you to put your dick near any of them. Obi-Wan, our break ends in ten. I’m not making excuses for you if you’re late getting back online.”
Obi-Wan misses the first part of what she’s saying because he’s too busy glaring at Anakin, who is glaring right back at him.
The man really could find a partner within a week if he were really serious about looking. He’s quite attractive, with his blond curls and bright blue eyes, the cut of muscle discernible through his work clothes. Sometimes at after-work happy hours, he’ll unbutton his shirt a bit, roll up his sleeves to play a game of darts in the back at Bar Deco, and there’s no way to prove that attendance to those happy hours have skyrocketed since pictures of Anakin focusing intently on the dartboard, corded forearm tense as he prepares to throw what was surely a bulls-eye had been posted on the intranet, but Obi-Wan knows it has.
He’s made sure not to miss a single one since then, just out of scientific curiosity.
So if Anakin is going to find a girlfriend who will become a wife probably, then Obi-Wan wants to meet her. As soon as Anakin has, but that seems highly unlikely. He’ll settle for—
“Well, are you doing anything this weekend? For pumpkin patch walking and perhaps a haunted house tour?” He asks Anakin, who chokes on his turkey club.
“Are you…sorry, are you volunteering to be my romantic—date?” Anakin asks once he has finished coughing into his napkin.
Obi-Wan waves a hand through the air. “Don’t be ridiculous. But if you’re available and can find a date by Saturday, I’d love to experience this aspect of American culture.”
“You want to…third wheel on one of my dates?” Anakin puts his sandwich down completely, which is probably for the better so as to avoid any more choking incidents.
“Well, I’d bring a date along too,” Obi-Wan points out. If Anakin can find a date then so can Obi-Wan. He hadn’t realized how lonely he also felt until this very moment actually.
Good thing he’s clocked out for this lunch break. He’d hate to have such personal realizations while on company time.
“You’re seeing someone?” Anakin’s tone is sharp again and bordering on accusatory. “Padmé didn’t say anything.”
“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, no. Though if you are free, on Saturday, I’m sure I can find an interested party.”
Anakin pushes his food away from him, looking like he’s going to be sick. “I bet.”
“So?” Obi-Wan prompts when it doesn’t look like Anakin is going to say anything else of his own volition. “Saturday?”
“I have plans,” Anakin says.
“Oh,” says Obi-Wan. He feels strangely disappointed for several seconds. But of course Anakin has plans. His weekends are probably full for the next several months. A man like Anakin would never have time for a man like Obi-Wan. “Never you mind, then.”
“But—next weekend, I’m free. If you don’t mind waiting a week before going on your date.”
Obi-Wan blinks. He’d briefly forgotten about bringing another. “Yes, I should be available.”
“Great,” Anakin replies with so much enthusiasm in his voice that it must be faked. “We can hammer out the details later then.”
“Perfect,” Obi-Wan agrees. “I hope the weather holds up.” How banal! Talking of the weather! “With skies this blue, I can almost see why you love them so much.”
Much better.
Anakin blinks and then throws his head back with a laugh. Obi-Wan is struck dumb at the sight, though he recovers quickly.
Best not to stay around though, should Anakin decide to do anything else so ill-advised.
He stands and gathers his own lunch trash. He’ll probably be very late back to his office, but perhaps he’ll be able to blame his tardiness on a couple of hordes of tourists. They all seem to have come out of the woodwork to enjoy the weather in the Mall.
“Would you care to hear some romantic advice from an old man?” He asks. “Though it may be horribly outdated, I wouldn’t know.”
Anakin narrows his eyes, probably sensing a trap. His curiosity gets the best of him though. “Sure.”
“Perhaps wipe off that smear of mustard on your chin before you try to pursue a romance with anyone. I’m sorry to say, but yellow isn’t your color.”
He chuckles at how fast Anakin’s hands fly to his face, clutching a napkin. “I’ll have you know, everything is my color!”
But Obi-Wan has already started to walk away, satisfied with getting the last laugh.
——————-
“Padmé, you have to help me,” Anakin begs into his phone. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
He can tell from the noises in the background that she’s only half-listening, chopping up ingredients for dinner. That’s fair. They’ve been on the phone for two hours.
She hasn’t offered any advice or any useful action items, of course, even though Anakin has given her plenty of time between segments of speech in order to intervene with any sort of aid.
“Ani, I quite honestly don’t know what you want me to do. You’ve gotten yourself into another incredibly peculiar and downright unfortunate situation.”
“And usually you help me out of those!”
“What are you telling these women? You’ve never in your life had trouble finding a date for an evening. What about Cassidy in the Botanical Gardens? I’ve always thought she would be interested in you.”
Anakin groans and collapses onto his mattress, still half-dressed in his work clothes and half in his exercise wear. He’d wanted to go on a run to clear his head, but then he’d thought that perhaps Padmé would be able to help him in his plight.
The plight being, of course, that no one wants to date him apparently.
“Cassie declined,” Anakin laments.
“Cassie has been panting after you for at least a year. There’s no way she’d decline. What did you say?”
“Well, she seemed interested when I asked…but maybe she just doesn’t like haunted houses? I told her that Obi-Wan asked me along on a double date to a haunted house and a pumpkin patch, and she sort of…said never mind?”
Padmé is very quiet for several moments. “What about Angela? I know Angela has implied that she likes you very loudly. Basically not implying anything except the sex position.”
Anakin frowns at the ceiling. “I asked. She thought maybe Obi-Wan wouldn’t want her to come along, they apparently don’t get along or something? I don’t quite understand it. I mean, whatever their beef is, not the not liking Kenobi part. Anyway, that’s basically what I told her and that it would be even more fun if Obi-Wan and her didn’t get along, because I love pissing him off, and she got sort of upset and um.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “And what?”
Anakin rolls over onto his stomach. “She dumped her lemonade on my lap? And said that it’s an asshole move to ask someone on a date just to pull someone else’s pigtails.”
There’s an even longer pause, before Padmé bursts out laughing.
“Stop it,” Anakin says. “It’s not funny. And now I don’t have a date, and I’m expected to go out with Obi-Wan tomorrow. He’ll be absolutely ruthless if I show up without a date! Please help me, Pads! I’m about to go out running in the street and asking every stranger under forty I see if they would like to date me for one day, specifically tomorrow, because I have this asshole coworker whose sole purpose is making my life a living hell by asking me to go on a double date with him and someone he apparently just asked out a few days ago because he’s so stupid and handsome and charming apparently that he can get anyone to date him at the drop of a goddamn hat because he thinks he’s God’s gift to women and men, apparently—”
Padmé has stopped laughing. “I can see why Cassie and Angela said no if you gave them the same speech,” she says. It’s not very comforting, so he stays silent and frowns into his pillow, deciding not to tell her he'd also been shot down by Rebecca, Virginia, Victoria, Sidney, and Rose.
“You could just cancel on Obi-Wan,” Padmé suggests.
Anakin bites back a scoff. Yeah, right. Why would he cancel on Obi-Wan? Then the man would know that he couldn’t find a date and that he was embarrassed about his own undateability. He’d really never let it go. He’d probably be hearing about how Obi-Wan had already picked out his nicest autumnal sweater and scarf when Anakin canceled for the rest of his life. Obi-Wan would probably remind him on his deathbed, he was a real asshole like that.
Cancel on Obi-Wan? As if.
“I can’t do that!” He tells Padmé. “Please, please. If you ever loved me at all—”
“I didn’t, that’s why we had to stop sleeping together because it got awkward every time you said it during sex—”
“--then you would give me the number of any one of your friends who is in the city and available tomorrow for pumpkin patch picking and haunted house going.”
Padmé seems to be debating something to herself because she doesn’t say anything for a very long time. “Fine.”
Anakin sits straight up in bed. “Really?”
“On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You have to think—using your very big brain—about why you don’t want to cancel on Obi-Wan.”
Easy. Anakin was just thinking about that. “Done. Because he’s an asshole and like a shark but instead of blood, he can smell weakness a mile away.”
Padmé sighs and then there’s the distinct sound of a wine bottle being uncorked. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she seems to tell herself. “But fine. Fine. Her name is Sabé. She owns a bar in Georgetown, which is also where she lives.”
Anakin fights back a groan at this. Georgetown is the worst area to travel to because there are no metro stops. He’ll have to drive to pick her up, if she agrees. But Padmé will get her to. He trusts Padmé with his heart (and future happiness) even if he doesn’t love her anymore.
Anyway, maybe this will be the best meet-cute in D.C. history. What if Anakin and Sabé actually fall in love because Anakin needed a date because of Kenobi and all of the women he’s ever talked to at work declined because no one wanted to spend time with Kenobi outside of work?
“Tell me more about Sabé,” Anakin requests. “What does she like?”
“Heavy metal music, her motorcycle, getting tattoos, a good curry, pumpkin spice lattes, horror films from the Golden Age of Hollywood, long walks on the beach, etcetera etcetera.”
This woman sounds great. Obi-Wan is going to lose his mind when he sees how cool Anakin’s date is. He’s going to be so jealous. Anakin’s already half in love with Sabé just from thinking about how jealous Obi-Wan is going to be.
“That’s great,” Anakin says with a wistful sigh. “Give me her number, I’ll ring her tonight. Maybe we can meet up before tomorrow.”
“Slow down, lover boy,” Padmé says. It sounds like she’s smiling. “Don’t you want to know how I met her?”
Anakin’s brows furrow. “I guess?” Padmé has a lot of friends in a lot of different walks of life, her knowing someone who owns a bar and has tattoos isn't unbelievable.
“We hooked up in the back of her bar a few times while I was getting my master’s at Georgetown. She likes long walks on the beach, mango margaritas, baking, and women. Exclusively women.”
Anakin flops back to stare at the ceiling as his daydreams dissolve until only Obi-Wan’s smug face remains. “You suck.”
“Still want her number? I can guarantee she’ll agree. She’s got a master’s in psychology, I’m sure she’ll find this whole thing fascinating.”
Anakin doesn’t know what’s so fascinating about pumpkin patch picking, but whatever. He’s sort of desperate. “Fine. Yeah. Thanks for letting me borrow your lesbian friend for a day.”
Padmé cackles. Anakin can’t believe he’d ever loved the sound of that laugh. “Oh, Ani. You’ll be borrowing my girlfriend.”
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