[identity profile] fialleril.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] starwarsficfest
Title: Prude
Author: [livejournal.com profile] fialleril
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1477
Prompt: PT: Anakin/Padmé; He was a former slave from Tatooine, she was an aristocrat from Naboo--culture clash.
Characters: Anakin, Padmé, Sola, mention of Ryoo and Pooja
Summary: Anakin tells Padmé's nieces the facts of life, and Padmé is less than pleased.
A/N: Technically this is pre-Anakin/Padmé, as it's set during their visit with Padmé's family before they go to the lake retreat.

Prude

“I can’t believe you told my nieces about sex!”

Anakin blinks at her. He apparently hasn’t grasped the gravity of the situation, for all he says is, “Well, they asked.”

They’re standing in her room with the door closed, and Padmé’s trying to keep her voice down because the last thing she needs right now is for her mother to catch them arguing. Or worse yet, Sola. If Sola hasn’t heard yet what he did, she’ll just take their argument as further evidence of the steamy love affair she’s imagined between her sister and the Jedi. If she has heard… Well, Padmé doubts that either she or Anakin will survive much past that point.

As if to make matters worse, it’s clear that Anakin is only giving her half his attention. The other half seems to be focused on perusing the holos on her wall, as if he hadn’t seen them all already. And he’s far too calm about the whole thing.

“Pooja is four, Anakin! And Ryoo’s only six!” She forgets for a moment that she’s trying to keep this argument quiet, but she can’t seem to help herself. It’s not just the fact that he told her (very young!) nieces about sex, apparently because they asked him where babies come from. It’s also the fact that he evidently knows what he’s talking about.

Apparently the Jedi Order has an excellent sex education program. Or at least a very good biology course.

“What were you thinking?” she demands, rounding on him and forcing him to look at her. He’s still wearing that blasted unruffled expression, as though they were just discussing the weather. She almost wishes she could make him angry; it might make this easier. Maybe she should suggest that he can’t tell her nieces about sex because she’s in charge of this mission. Not very logical, perhaps, but that doesn’t seem to be much of an issue with Anakin, and that tack certainly made him angry before.

“They asked,” he repeats, unflustered, though he’s beginning to look a bit confused by her reaction. “I was surprised no one had told them before, actually.”

She stares. “Anakin, they’re four and six! Of course no one had told them!”

He’s apparently realized that something is wrong, because now he’s starting to look a bit nervous. Good. He ought to be, since Sola is going to kill them both soon.

His brows draw together and he says, somewhat awkwardly, “Well, how old were you?”

The conversation is heading into rather uncomfortable territory now, but she shrugs off her unease in favor of making her point. “I was thirteen,” she says, as though the answer ought to be obvious.

But apparently it wasn’t obvious to Anakin, because now he’s gawking openly at her. “But,” he splutters (and she can’t tell whether it’s disbelief or laughter, or perhaps some combination of both), “you were already Princess of Theed by then!”

She hasn’t considered it that way before, but she can almost hear the question in his mind. You were old enough to govern, but you weren’t old enough to know about sex? The question is disconcerting enough that she sidesteps it entirely, and instead raises her head proudly and demands, “Well, how old were you when Obi-Wan told you?”

“Twelve,” he says, and she’s just about to say “I thought so” when he adds smugly, “But I had to correct him on a few points.”

He’s truly grinning now, and she’s beginning to wonder if he’s just been making fun of her this whole time. But no, what Ryoo and Pooja told her was definitely not a figment of her imagination.

When she still doesn’t say anything, Anakin takes pity on her and adds, “My mom told me when I was four.” His voice goes quieter and more serious when he mentions his mother.

“That seems…rather young,” Padmé says carefully.

“I was old enough to ask,” Anakin says with a shrug. “But of course I didn’t understand it all then.” He turns back to the holo he was examining before, the one of herself, Ermé, and Palo on their first day in the Legislative Youth Program. “When was this?”

She ignores the question. “Anakin,” she says tentatively, “on Naboo we don’t… We don’t usually talk about…these things with our children at such a young age.”

Anakin turns around and gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So I gathered.”

There’s silence for a few moments more between them, and then Anakin adds, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I suppose things are just different on Tatooine.”

Padmé realizes with a start that, after all this time, he still thinks of Tatooine as home. It’s a surprisingly comforting recognition. It means that not everything about him has changed, after all.

“Well, what is it like on Tatooine?” she asks, partly to defuse the situation, and partly because, although they’ve talked a lot about her own past, they haven’t spoken much about his, and she’s starting to realize just how little she really knows.

“Mom and I were lucky,” he says slowly, his eyes trained on the softly glowing holo rather than on her. “Watto was fairly important, or at least he had important friends, and he treated us well. We had one of the biggest houses in the Quarters, just for the two of us. But most of the others didn’t live like that. Usually whole families would share one room, and sometimes there’d be two or three families in one house.” He looks up at her now and surprises her with a genuine smile. “My friend Seek was free-born, and he actually had both of his parents. We used to all spend time at his house because our masters couldn’t come after us there. And sometimes, when his parents wanted to have sex, they’d say, ‘You kids go play outside now, we need some special time.’ And we all knew what that meant.” He smirks and adds, “Once there was a sandstorm, and they just told us to look out the window.”

Anakin’s laughing now, almost carefree. She feels like she’s just been told an inside joke and she doesn’t quite understand what’s so funny, but it is nice to hear him laugh again.

“I guess,” he says, his smile now more of a smirk, “when you grow up in such close quarters, you can’t afford to be a prude.”

A part of Padmé understands that this is just his way of overcoming the social difference between them. But it still feels like an affront. “I am not a prude!” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

Anakin just laughs again. “Oh, come on,” he says. “You’re acting as though I’d told your nieces some dirty and horrible secret! It’s just sex.”

“They’re too young to understand what it means,” she insists, in that tone her nieces know means “and that’s the end of this discussion.”

Apparently that tone doesn’t work on Anakin. “What was I supposed to tell them, then?” he asks with a smirk. “They wanted to know where babies come from. Should I have lied?”

“Yes!” she exclaims, exasperated. “You’re a Jedi! You’re not even supposed to talk about these things!”

Anakin’s laughing so hard now that she’s afraid someone will hear him. “Oh, stop,” she grumbles, irritated. “You know what I meant.”

To her relief, Anakin does stop laughing. “The Jedi are celibate,” he says, “but that doesn’t mean we don’t know about reality.” He seems to consider this, then mumbles, “Well, maybe Master Obi-Wan didn’t know about…” He gives an amused snort and looks her in the eye. “So what should I have told them?”

He looks so earnest and even apologetic that she’s almost willing to forgive his blunder. He grew up very differently, after all. She supposes she should have expected some cultural differences.

“On Naboo we have a tradition,” she begins. “There’s a goddess named Eilithé who brings children to couples who are—” She breaks off when she notices Anakin snickering again. “What?”

He shakes his head with a grin. “You really are a prude.”

So much for cultural differences. Now he’s just trying to aggravate her.

“I am not a prude!”

It’s just then that the door slides open and Sola peeks her head in. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says sweetly, though she doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Am I interrupting something?”

Anakin is snickering quietly. When she turns to glare at him, he mouths “prude” and winks at her.

That’s it. Obi-Wan may be upset with her for relieving him of his apprentice, but she figures that Anakin really has no one to blame but himself.

“Actually, Sola,” she says just as sweetly, “we were just coming to look for you. Anakin here has something he needs to tell you…”
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