#mollyburger

Don’t listen to them! You can get whoever you want.

But I don't. Want. I don't think I want. I'm kind of.

Molly’s been so down lately, stressed as she is with her pregnancy and her shaky relationship with a Raf that Anakin hasn’t met face-to-face yet. He wants to punch the guy solely because he makes her so upset, but only because Molly wouldn’t approve of it, he reels himself in from finding him and threatening him with castration if he doesn’t fix what they’ve got. He doesn’t know if they’re leaning towards breaking apart or staying together, but God, doesn’t Molly have the right to not be led around like a puppet?

It’s none of your business, his mind provides. Just do what you came here to do.

It was certainly a sight to see someone dressed as a prince pedaling down the street on a crummy old bicycle, but it’s not like Molly knows he’s here to begin with. He chains his bicycle down as he parks it, and then he heads to her door and smooths through his hair one last time before standing straight in front of it. One arm bent behind him, his back straight and arched in regality, and a hand lifted, he knocks on her door, twice.

When she opens it, the way her eyes light up in surprise is enough to make Anakin smile charmingly down at her in response.

“May I have this dance?”

He’s got a radio playing music, his hand on her waist and their fingers laced together.

“Why are we dancing, Ani?” Molly asks, and her voice is laced with the touch of confusion and kindness Anakin has always associated with her; and even, if he dares to believe it, the tone of happiness. They move together as he leads her, languid one-two-three-four steps as they slide around her living room, and he gives a shrug of his shoulders as he twirls her around.

“I want to make you happy,” Anakin murmurs in response. “But I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better prince.”

Molly’s hand falls onto his shoulder again, soft and graceful as she looks up at him through eyes he finds breathtaking.

“You’re the best prince in the world,” she says.

Anakin smiles and ducks his head.

They stop because Molly’s feet are hurting (ah, the woes of pregnancy), and Anakin makes a show of sweeping her off her feet to put her onto the couch. Molly laughs at that, hits him on the shoulder playfully, but once she’s seated she leans her head back and smiles over at him. Anakin’s own lips curve because he doesn’t know what else to do.

And, God, she’s beautiful. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders, her eyes shine bright with compassion and cheer, and Anakin wonders what Raf could ever see in this woman to make her feel so bad. He’s still standing over her, still not sure if he’s allowed to sit or not, but a laugh from Molly and a gesture has him sitting beside her, his hands folded together as his elbows rest on his knees.

“Thank you, Ani,” Molly says, and she sounds a little tired as she leans her head on his shoulder. They’d only danced a couple minutes, but Anakin supposes that thresholds differ between pregnant women and awkward men. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she leans into him, closing her eyes. “That was very nice.”

“You deserve it,” Anakin says.

And Molly lets out an ‘mm’ in response.

He turns his head slightly to look down at her, and how her lashes look against her cheeks. They’re lightly flushed, too, with the effort of dancing; her hair frames her face with a sort of perfection Anakin thought only existed in the movies. In-between it all, he finds his heart stammering. And then his eyes fall to her mouth.

There’s a slow, lethargic heat that curls into his stomach, and Christ she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. It stretches from the core of him outward to the very tips of his fingers, and he finds himself wanting to kiss her, to be the prince and to save the princess from the dragon who keeps her hanging on. It’s a fleeting desire, one that comes and goes in the same nature as cresting waves, but it still exists, and it still grips him something terrible.

“Ani?” Molly asks, and he’s snapped out of his reverie, blinking and letting out a low ‘yeah?’.

“You’re the best family I could ever ask for.”

Something inside him shatters, but he kisses her temple and nods his head.

“You, too.”

He returns the prince costume the next day.

... oh.