[ Claude bumps his knee and tells him that it isn't meant to be like this, not because the ideology is right and the people are wrong - but because the system itself isn't based on freedom for everyone. Slavery isn't meant to be abolished, by that logic. Anakin hates it.
And he's known for years, though he'd never be able to put it as concisely as Claude just did.
Drink mostly forgotten, he leans in a little, gaze roaming across Claude's features - familiar at this point, pronounced cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, full lips - and thinking, how does he understand? but he does, finally, someone who does. When he was younger, he'd talk to as many people as he could in the Temple, trying to find someone who'd be willing to help him, to go with him to Tatooine and get his mother, their people. It speaks volumes, really, that he's here today, fighting somebody else's war, while his mother has become one with the sands. Diplomacy can't fix it says Claude and that's the problem, in a nutshell.
Winning the war is up the Jedi, to the soldiers, to those who take up arms. Ending slavery is no different.
For a long, long moment, he just looks at Claude, his own gaze unflinching as he takes him in, imprints. ]
I'm glad you know these things. That someone does.
[ He shifts forward, their knees not just brushing but pressing together, feeling the hardness of the other man, bone and muscle and skin and above that, heat. For some reason, he remembers the flash of lights passing by as he'd flown through the lower level streets, spinning and dodging completely by instinct, his own body a continuation of the speeder, of its circuits and switches and the fuel, burning to nothing too fast.
He thinks about that and then, carefully, he puts his flesh hand over Claude's and rests it there, fingers curling slightly around the shape of it. ]
[ They draw closer proportionally, Anakin turning towards him, their knees pushing over each other, bone and flesh and heat and blood ready to spill, and Claude stays calm beneath the other man's gaze, because it weighs on him, like lead, like metal, like heatwaves. He doesn't imagine the Jedi Temple has been a welcoming home in regards to these particular views, not any more than his own Council welcomed his views back on Paris. So, they've been shouting into abysses, the both of them.
Now they're shouting at each other and if nothing else, there are willing ears on the other end of the sound, travelling.
Anakin's flesh hand is lighter and warmer, but also somehow gentler than what Claude has felt of his mechno one. It wraps around the back of his own, like initiative, but also like bridging. Claude sits like that for a long moment, lets Anakin tell him that he's never met anyone like him before which, honestly, likewise, Anakin Skywalker, before he twists his hand in the other man's grip, turns his palm upwards, catches his fingers and interlaces them with his own. A slight smile, not amused, not teasing, just there. His most genuine response.
It feels nice, close. He feels visible for the first time in many years. Like a ghost seeing its own reflection in a mirror, impossible but they say that about a lot of things that you only need the right measures for.
Claude leans in a bit, bringing their faces closer together, hair brushing, foreheads almost, too. ]
Means we've both been too alone, I guess.
[ He bumps their foreheads, then, smile widening. ]
If you don't want to go back tonight, you can sleep at my place.
[ Claude doesn't pull away and though Anakin hadn't exactly expected him to - mostly because he doesn't usually concern himself with what-ifs or hypothetical failures - there's still a part of him that settles, feeling Claude staying beneath his hand before he turns his palm upwards and entwines their fingers. His smile is sweet. Anakin watches it, feeling hungry for something he can't entirely understand and when the other man leans in, he follows suit, mirrors him, until their foreheads press together. ]
I do. [ He pauses. Re-thinks the words quickly, then adds, feeling like he's stumbling over himself a little now, the way he used to do around Padmé when he was eighteen, devoid of experience: ] I mean, I want to. Come home with you.
[ Right now, he can't imagine doing anything else - going back to the Temple to be by himself some more, to meditate? Going back to the lower levels to drag his wrecked speeder away, knowing that it'll take him months to fix it? All of that sounds like he can't afford the time it'll take, like it's too long and it'll leave him with less than when he started, the way it's been ever since he left Tatooine. Losses. Less and less.
Meanwhile, Claude's smile makes his heart beat faster.
Smiling slightly, he tightens his grip on the other man and holds on. He knows where he wants to go and Claude... Claude is leading the way. ]
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no subject
And he's known for years, though he'd never be able to put it as concisely as Claude just did.
Drink mostly forgotten, he leans in a little, gaze roaming across Claude's features - familiar at this point, pronounced cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, full lips - and thinking, how does he understand? but he does, finally, someone who does. When he was younger, he'd talk to as many people as he could in the Temple, trying to find someone who'd be willing to help him, to go with him to Tatooine and get his mother, their people. It speaks volumes, really, that he's here today, fighting somebody else's war, while his mother has become one with the sands. Diplomacy can't fix it says Claude and that's the problem, in a nutshell.
Winning the war is up the Jedi, to the soldiers, to those who take up arms. Ending slavery is no different.
For a long, long moment, he just looks at Claude, his own gaze unflinching as he takes him in, imprints. ]
I'm glad you know these things. That someone does.
[ He shifts forward, their knees not just brushing but pressing together, feeling the hardness of the other man, bone and muscle and skin and above that, heat. For some reason, he remembers the flash of lights passing by as he'd flown through the lower level streets, spinning and dodging completely by instinct, his own body a continuation of the speeder, of its circuits and switches and the fuel, burning to nothing too fast.
He thinks about that and then, carefully, he puts his flesh hand over Claude's and rests it there, fingers curling slightly around the shape of it. ]
I've never met anyone like you before.
no subject
Now they're shouting at each other and if nothing else, there are willing ears on the other end of the sound, travelling.
Anakin's flesh hand is lighter and warmer, but also somehow gentler than what Claude has felt of his mechno one. It wraps around the back of his own, like initiative, but also like bridging. Claude sits like that for a long moment, lets Anakin tell him that he's never met anyone like him before which, honestly, likewise, Anakin Skywalker, before he twists his hand in the other man's grip, turns his palm upwards, catches his fingers and interlaces them with his own. A slight smile, not amused, not teasing, just there. His most genuine response.
It feels nice, close. He feels visible for the first time in many years. Like a ghost seeing its own reflection in a mirror, impossible but they say that about a lot of things that you only need the right measures for.
Claude leans in a bit, bringing their faces closer together, hair brushing, foreheads almost, too. ]
Means we've both been too alone, I guess.
[ He bumps their foreheads, then, smile widening. ]
If you don't want to go back tonight, you can sleep at my place.
no subject
I do. [ He pauses. Re-thinks the words quickly, then adds, feeling like he's stumbling over himself a little now, the way he used to do around Padmé when he was eighteen, devoid of experience: ] I mean, I want to. Come home with you.
[ Right now, he can't imagine doing anything else - going back to the Temple to be by himself some more, to meditate? Going back to the lower levels to drag his wrecked speeder away, knowing that it'll take him months to fix it? All of that sounds like he can't afford the time it'll take, like it's too long and it'll leave him with less than when he started, the way it's been ever since he left Tatooine. Losses. Less and less.
Meanwhile, Claude's smile makes his heart beat faster.
Smiling slightly, he tightens his grip on the other man and holds on. He knows where he wants to go and Claude... Claude is leading the way. ]