suitably_heroic | MCA #4, Monday Evening

Current Music: 'The Good Life', Anouk

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MCA #4, Monday Evening

Atton had woken up that morning with only a passable idea of what had happened the previous night; there'd been five full bottles of juma in his fridge, no food anywhere, and an overly enthusiastic message from Skywalker confirming drinking plans Atton had no memory of proposing to the guy. He'd decided the wise thing to do was to get back into bed and maybe not get out of it until he stopped feeling completely miserable on every level.

By five PM, he'd given up on that, and ordered pizza.

By eight PM, he'd opened the second bottle of juma and he was waiting, patiently, for the inevitable dramatic knock/sweep into the room combo that generally heralded Skywalker arriving just about anywhere.

[[ expecting anakin, but open before he arrives! ]]

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"Here's to no relatives at the picnic," Anakin said, clinking his glass against Atton's.

"I'm pretty sure that one falls under 'wishful thinking' until Sunday," Atton said, pulling his glass back so he could drink from it. "E chu ta."

"I'm pretty sure I've met them all at this point," Anakin said, drinking deeply. "I think we've only missed my mother and my first wife..."

"And wouldn't it be nicely untraumatic if the two of them showed up?" Atton asked dryly.

"They could be roommates," Anakin said with a snort. "Get a crush on you, and then I'd have to run screaming from the island and never return."

Atton snickered. "Well, I don't know about your mother," he said, "But it'd show a real improvement in taste for your first wife."

Anakin threw a pillow at him. Because he was twelve.

Atton didn't swerve out of the way or knock the pillow elsewhere or anything. Partly because that helped illustrate just how twelve Anakin was, and partly because that would involve jostling his drink.

"You're pathetic," he said. Mildly.

"Padme had excellent taste," he said instead. "Ask Obi-Wan."

...maybe don't ask Obi-Wan.

"The Obi-Wan who was close with your dead wife, that Obi-Wan?" Atton asked. "That sounds like a great idea."

Anakin paused mid-drink. "Okay, that's a good point. Maybe don't ask Obi-Wan."

Atton snorted.

He eyed his drink. Then he slammed the rest of it back. He needed it before he said anything else.

"So," he said, "Last week we had our one-year memorial service. Also great."

He was trying out this thing where he actually told Anakin something instead of enabling the guy into badgering him while he pretended like he didn't want to talk about it. Don't ruin it, Skywalker.

Anakin silently filled Atton's glass again. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Anniversaries are awful."

"You're telling me," Atton muttered.

He eyed his glass.

Anakin shrugged. "Why don't you tell me instead."

"She's dead," Atton said flatly. "It's been a year since she bailed on me and got herself killed, and Mical wants us to sit around and tell campfire stories about her."

Anakin filled his own glass. "You don't want to hear other people's memories?"

"The ones I have hound me enough," Atton said. "Why would I want more of them?"

He drank entirely too much from his glass in one go.

"Because you love her," Anakin said, "and other people remember her well."

"I never said that."

Atton took another sip of his drink.

And y'know, he wasn't lying. He'd never said that. That didn't mean it wasn't true, but still.

Anakin gave him a look. "You didn't have to."

"Yeah, well, you're a lot better at punching people in the face than reading them."

Maybe he was just being contrary because he could. It was Atton, after all.

"I'm better at punching people," he agreed, "but it doesn't mean I missed this."

Atton let out a groan and collapsed back into his seat. He fumbled for a minute with his jacket until he found his cigarettes, and put one between his lips and lit it.

He needed that before he dealt with this. Maybe he should've thought ahead. It was Skywalker, after all.

"Take your time," Anakin said with a little smile. "I'm a Jedi but I'm not that stupid."

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