The optimized sedan engine hummed quietly as they drove away from Harry Herpson High School. Kaelen was driving, a grin of pure amusement plastered across his face. Padmé, for her part, had composed herself and was now gazing out the window with an air of studied indifference, as if she hadn't just starred in a scene worthy of a romantic holonovel.
The silence lasted exactly twelve seconds.
"So..." Kaelen began, his tone light and laced with mischief. "...'you're forgetting something,' huh? I have to admit, that's a much more elegant phrase than I would have used. I probably would've just yelled, 'Get away from my wife, you little hormonal gremlins!'"
Padmé turned to him, trying to maintain a stern Senatorial expression, but the corners of her lips betrayed her. "I don't know what you're talking about. I merely reminded you that... you had a smudge. On your shirt."
Kaelen chuckled. "Ah, right! A smudge! And the only way to clean it was with a Richter-scale-nine kiss. Very advanced laundry technique. Is that a Naboo thing?"
"It was a very persistent smudge," she insisted, though her facade of seriousness was crumbling.
"It must have been," he continued, relishing every second. "I didn't realize Naboo diplomacy included tactical kissing maneuvers in high school parking lots. Is it a new conflict resolution doctrine? 'Kiss first, ask questions later.' It's bold. I like it."
She finally gave in and laughed, the sound filling the car. "Oh, hush. They were staring at you."
"I was being courteous," Kaelen said with feigned innocence. "Establishing cordial relations with the local populace. I thought you'd be proud."
"You were being charming," she corrected. "And they were about to ask you for your comm number. I had to enact a preemptive strike to reaffirm our strategic alliance."
"'Strategic alliance'?" he repeated, relishing her diplomatic euphemisms. "So my talented, brilliant, and powerful wife, the former Queen and current Senator who's faced droid armies and Sith Lords... got jealous of a bunch of Earth teenagers?"
Padmé blushed slightly, a sight Kaelen treasured. "I wasn't jealous. I was... protecting a Republic asset from potentially destabilizing influences."
"Of course," Kaelen said, pulling up to a red light. He turned in his seat to face her, his teasing smile softening into an expression of deep affection. "You know, that was the highlight of my stay in this dimension."
She looked at him, confused. "Being ogled by teenagers?"
"No. Seeing you like that," he explained. "Seeing the woman behind the Senator. Seeing the Padmé who gets a little possessive because someone's looking at her husband. It reminds me that all of this is real." He gestured around them. "The portals, the Ricks, the metal arm... it's easy to get lost in the madness. But that kiss... that was the most real thing I've felt in weeks."
The tenderness in his voice completely disarmed her. The teasing had turned into a confession, a reminder of their connection.
"Besides," he added, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes, "you didn't seem to mind."
"I didn't," she admitted, leaning in for a short, sweet kiss. "Now drive, Director Ror. We have two wars to plan."
Kaelen smiled and accelerated, heading back to the Smith house. The atmosphere in the car was light, filled with love and laughter. They had found a perfect balance. He was her mad genius, and she was his jealous queen. And together, they felt they could face anything the multiverse threw at them.
When they arrived back at the house, Kaelen helped her out of the car, giving an exaggerated bow. "My Queen. I hope my chauffeuring services were to your satisfaction."
"Acceptable," she said regally. "Though your co-pilot was a little distracting."
"Ah, but my co-pilot gives the best kisses this side of the Kessel Nebula," he whispered, stealing one last kiss before they walked into the house, ready to dive back into the madness. For a moment, they weren't fugitives or saviors. They were just a husband and wife, teasing each other after a strange morning. And it was perfect.