Title: Monochromatic
Pairings/characters: Implied Anakin/Emma Frost, Anakin/Padme, others.
Summary: Anakin wears corsets.
A/N: Area42-verse.



Emma Frost swings open the door to her office one day and finds Anakin Skywalker sitting in her chair, reading her classified files, and wearing her iced blue corset, the one with white goosefeathers above the rump.

He stares at her.

And she thinks it's almost amusing -- being discovered like this will have finally broken him. He will spend the rest of his short, pathetic life in a cell in the Brig, utterly insane and making noises and fashioning a Padme action figure out of a cylon's ear wax. At the funeral, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Andrew Wells will give Emma a dark look; "How dare you leave your laundry where he could find it?"

But right now, Anakin's eyes are popping out of his head. He stopped singing in a bastardization of Emma's voice as soon as she entered. Anakin just sits there in his psychologist's office chair, jaw dropped in shame. The sparkly cups of the corset's bra are empty. There are little sparkly twisties where his nipples would be. They do not twirl. There is no dancing to be had.

She clears her throat. This is the last straw, and she wants him to break down now. She doesn't want to wait for the theatrics. Emma doesn't want time to consider that maybe, just maybe, she's become emotionally attached and she's almost sad to see him sink this low.

"Hello, Miss Frost," Anakin's firm voice does not betray him. If she couldn't see the expression on his face, Emma would not be aware of the terror he was experiencing.

She simply prepares herself, and waits for Anakin to grab a pen off her desk and jam it into his temporal lobe. No, wait -- he has the Force. If he wanted to kill himself by now, he would have done so.

A beat, and another, and then finally:

"Well, Anakin, you're a little early for your appointment today."

He blushes. It catches Emma completely off-guard. She has a disturbing thought: This poor, crazy man has been in much more embarrassing situations than this. He's become immune to losing his dignity.

Anakin still hasn't left her chair. And it's starting to make her angry. Emma is the doctor. She's the one in control. "Get up, please. You will sit on the couch until today's session is over."

He buries his head into his shoulder, and boyishly flutters his eyelashes. That might work on Padme, but not Emma. She grabs him by the upper arm and drags him to the couch. This gets a reaction out of him, and when he yelps just like his granddaughter's chihuahua, Emma slaps Anakin clear across the face.

Guilt hits her and for a moment, she feels as if she has actually smacked a puppy. Anakin is trying to hide the tears that are about to pour, with his arms crossed defiantly over the sparkly bodice.

"You have nice things, Emma." Anakin says haughtily, as if he's back in the Clone Wars and is dismissing one of his officers. "You should be very grateful to own such... finery."

In that moment, she hates him. But the hate only strengthens her resolve.

"I want you out of my sight."

Anakin nods. He keeps his chin raised like a frat boy.

He tries to walk out. Emma grabs him by the shell of her corset, now stretched out of proportion.

"I do not give up, Anakin Skywalker," she hisses. "You are a spoiled child who believes the universe revolves around him and his silly little problems. Your Master, your wife, your daughter, even Solo treat you as if you're someone to be pitied. It's revolting. I will change this."

She pushes him out the door. He falls on his knees in the corridor. The Harry Potter kids walk by and start giggling. Then Emma kicks him squarely in the bum, and feathers fly everywhere.

Luna Lovegood makes a lovely hat out of them.

-

"Ani, I think you've had more than enough bread."

"I need my strength, my beloved angel--"

The Skywalkers' dinner is interrupted when the door slams open and Emma Frost, clad entirely in the Darth Vader armor she bought at the mall, struts in. The matching helmet is clutched by a hand on her hip.

Anakin freezes.

Padme folds her hands neatly on her lap, smiling encouragingly at Emma.

Then her husband leaps from his seat. He knocks over their table.

"You have both been conspiring!" He flails his arms to and fro like an injured animal. "You... you..."

Emma does not make eye contact. She walks to the cupboard, takes out three bags of potato chips, and sits down on the Skywalkers' couch. She picks up the remote and turns on Spongebob Squarepants.

"Padme," Anakin growls, "Evict this woman from our household."

His wife's fierce gaze bores into his. "No, Anakin. Just watch."

This episode happens to feature a tearful reunion between Patrick and Spongebob after a nasty disagreement. The fat, floppy starfish is running toward the sponge, seeking forgiveness. Emma channels her acting skills and begins to howl, "Oh, gods, Obi-Wan! I'm so sorry, Master!" The material of the black cloak swishes as she sways back and forth in overdramatic emotional distress.

Then she tilts her head back, and pours the remainder of the chips directly into her mouth. Crumbs go everywhere.

Anakin's features seem to be carved in stone.

"I will not tolerate this unabashed mockery."

Emma resumes her composure. Despite wearing a cheap movie costume made of plastic, her presence still demands respect.

"It does not feel good when someone attempts to act precisely like you, does it, Anakin?"

He stares at his feet.

"Anakin," Padme says sharply, "What did you learn?"

He bites his lip. "Not to emulate others?"

Emma rolls her eyes. "That's good enough. Don't wear my clothing without permission again, Anakin, or I will wear this suit twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week."

Padme squeezes his shoulder. "All right," Anakin says. "All right."

He escorts her to the door.

"Emma?" He tentatively asks. "You said... without permission." His look is hopeful.

Emma stands there in the heavy Vader outfit, thinking about her gowns stretched out beyond repair. Skywalker is such a fatass.

"No, Anakin. But we'll go shopping sometime," she says, quietly enough for Anakin to have imagined it.

Emma makes her way back to her quarters and no one dares to stare at her rudely. And she thinks to herself that certainly, anyone who was forced to live in this hideous outfit for over twenty years would have ended up like Anakin.