Anakin leans in, brushes the back of his fingers down her cheek, tilts himself down so he can reach her lips. She guides him gently with a hand to his jaw and he relaxes at her touch, making a soft sound of contentment as he opens his mouth to her. When they part his eyes are tender.
“Like that, Obi-wan,” she murmurs, feeling the awkward stiffness of the man beside her. When she grasps his hand it’s trembling. “Easy, easy.”
There’s a long, difficult silence. “No, not really actually,” he says with a half panicked laugh. Anakin reaches over and pulls him into his arms until the man’s head is tucked under his chin.
Padme reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder, fabric rough under her fingers as the man shakes. “We can go as slow as we need to, or not at all if you want,” she whispers. “In the end the choice is always yours.”
“Take heart, love - we have all the time in the world.”