Snips and Skyguy: Return of the One Shots

Anakin Canakin Opener

this is so stupid

"You've never even tried?"

"Ahsoka, I don't care enough to try."

"But I do," she replied grabbing his right hand out of his lap. He sighed, letting the prosthetic arm go limp while Ahsoka got to work on undoing the buckles on his glove.

"Well, you can go ahead if you want to, I guess," he muttered, tapping at his screen with his flesh hand.

Ahsoka tugged the leather glove off, leaning forward to grab the can off of the table. She wasn't exactly sure how this was going to work, but she was determined to try.

"Do the fingers have any secret weapons in them? Like knives or something?" she asked, prodding at the tips of the metal.

"No," Anakin laughed, turning his head to the side for a moment to watch as she tugged on each of them individually, as if she was expecting to find something exciting. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you about my arm."

"Well... it was less of you telling me, and more of me getting up in the middle of the night and finding you at the kitchen table with one of your arms missing," she reminded him with a poke in the shoulder.

"I remember," Anakin said, grinning down at the report he was writing.

"You could have told me when I first moved in. Would have saved me a panic attack."

"Oh, please," he rolled his eyes as she began tapping one of his fingers against the top of the can, "screaming bloody murder and then accidentally cutting a chair in half with your lightsaber because you think you need to protect me from whoever just 'cut off my arm' is hardly what I would call a panic attack."

"I had nightmares, Master," she grumbled, smiling when a dent began to form in the thin metal of the can.

"Did you really?" he asked after a few seconds of silence, save for the steady clink of metal on metal. His tone was guilty, Ahsoka noticed. "I'm sorry, Snips. I didn't mean to scare you."

She furrowed her brow markings and shrugged her shoulders.

"It's okay. It was only for a week or so."

"A week?" he exclaimed, dropping his device down onto his lap. "I didn't—I wasn't—why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't a big deal," she insisted, throwing her arms in the air with a triumphant whoop when a hole finally formed in the can's lid.

"Ugh, they're all scratched up now," Anakin muttered, examining his fingers.

"Oh," Ahsoka said nervously, "I'm sorry, Master."

"It's okay, that isn't important right now. I shouldn't have said that," he said, picking at a scuff mark on one of his fingers. "Why didn't you tell me you were having nightmares?"

"Usually you were sleeping. It wasn't a big deal, don't worry."

She made to get up, can in hand, but he grabbed her arm loosely.

"Well, it's a big deal to me."

She relaxed in his grip and nodded her head before sitting back down on the couch.

"I'll go to you next time," she promised.

"Good." He offered her a smile.

She returned it.

"I want to be here for you for everything—even the things that you think are insignificant. If you're hurting, no matter how much, or how stupid you think it is, I want to help you."

"Thank you, Master. I want to be there for you too."

He grinned.

"Wanna help me polish this thing since you got it all scuffed up?" he asked, raising his prosthetic hand in the air.

She nodded vigorously.

Anakin chuckled, shrugging off his outermost robe so they could remove his arm, and laying it over her shoulders. He adjusted it and helped her slide her arms through the holes.

"My mini-me," he laughed softly, tweaking her nose. She swatted him away with a playful growl from the back of her throat, but he brought his hand back, tapping her eye, "now all you need is the scar."

"You still never told me how you got that," she pointed out while he began to remove his arm. He smirked.

"That's a story for another time."

oops. i tried to write crack and it turned into fluff. whatever shall we do. write more fluff, you say? good idea.