Master Apprentice Archive Cause And Effect Quick search:

Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/destinaf
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: R
Categories: drama, humor (yes, it's dramedy!)
Archive: at MA archive only, please
Disclaimer: Not mine. Only borrowing. Sue me not, broke am I.
Spoilers: Nah.
Warnings: Nope. Unless you are disturbed by affectionate Jedi.
Summary: Obi-Wan has a little trouble manipulating both the Force and his master.
Author's Notes: This short story was first published in the beautiful zine "Living Force", which has apparently timed out. Thus it is now being posted. I was asked for something happy for the zine, instead of my usual dose of angst, so this was the result. Many thanks to Qor-Ynn for the edit and to Nicole D. for her support when it was written.
Feedback: will be replied to by a legion of naked, sweaty, muscular Jedi typists...not really, but a girl can dream, can't she? destinaf@yahoo.com

"You *will* take your clothes off."

Silhouetted against the large windows in their quarters, Qui-Gon stood still as a statue, clothes firmly in place. "You were saying, Padawan?" he asked, a hint of amusement coloring his tone.

Obi-Wan made a subtle gesture with his hand, eyes narrowing in concentration, and tried again. "You will disrobe!"

Qui-Gon merely folded his arms across his chest and lifted an eyebrow. "No, I won't."

Obi-Wan sighed. Force manipulation was one of the more difficult lessons to incorporate into the routine skills of a padawan, and he was having little success with it. All day long, he'd been dropping tiny hints and suggestions to Qui-Gon, and with each failure his spirits fell a bit further. "You could at least cooperate!" Obi-Wan grumbled, flopping down on the couch.

Qui-Gon's eyes were sparkling with suppressed humor. "The point, Obi-Wan, is not my cooperation; it's your mastery of mind manipulation that's being tested here. Or rather, your complete *lack* of mastery."

"You're Force-shielding yourself, protecting your mind from my suggestions," Obi-Wan protested with a scowl.

"Petulance does not become you," Qui-Gon chided. He settled back into his favorite chair and picked up his steaming cup. "Some creatures aren't susceptible to suggestion. Some simply resist. If your skill in this discipline were up to par, I assure you I would have followed your most...unusual...suggestion." He took a sip of his beverage. "Are you so anxious to see me without clothing?"

Obi-Wan fixed his master with a look of suffering. "It's been a week," he said, allowing his longing to bleed into the words. "I've forgotten what your skin feels like. Right now, all I want is to-"

"You know the rules," Qui-Gon answered, cutting off his student before he could give voice to his desires. His smoldering blue gaze lingered on Obi-Wan just long enough to remind Obi-Wan ofwhat he was missing. "When you are able to compel me into obedience through Force suggestion, I'm yours again to do with as you please."

"That's an offer I find a little too tempting." Obi-Wan shifted in the chair, trying to ignore the hard ache between his legs. The very thought of Qui-Gon's body beneath his hands, pliable, his hard strength surrounding him...it was enough to distract him completely.

"Perhaps that's the issue, then," Qui-Gon pointed out. He drank the last of his tea and stood, pausing to stroke Obi-Wan's cheek wistfully. "I have a meeting with Master Windu, but we'll revisit this when I return. By then you may have found new incentive."

Obi-Wan nuzzled into the large hand touching him with such gentle concern. "What if I can't do this, Master? Not every Jedi is successful in directing the Living Force." He could hear his worry in the words, despite his efforts to bury that emotion where Qui-Gon would not see it. "I don't wish to fail you."

"You have the skill within you, if you can find the patience to create your focus," Qui-Gon said softly. "And you have not failed me."

Obi-Wan turned his face up, seeking the look of approval he knew he would find on his master's face, and turned into the path of a sudden, seeking kiss. His lips parted beneath Qui-Gon's hungry mouth, and he made a low noise of need. Just as he reached up to tangle his hand in the silky hair brushing against his cheek, Qui-Gon straightened, breaking the contact.

"You might do well to meditate while I'm gone," Qui-Gon advised with a smile, leaving Obi-Wan to stare after him as he departed.

"Meditation isn't going to help," Obi-Wan muttered to himself, tugging at his trousers.

The day had started off dismally, as nearly every day had since their return to the Temple a week before. Obi-Wan had gone to class, had listened avidly to detailed lectures on using the Force to influence the actions of others, had watched the skill demonstrated by innumerable Masters in a variety of creative ways, and had then failed to produce a similar effect.

It baffled him almost as much as it seemed to baffle Master Kimiteth, who had taken him aside and given him individualized instruction, all to no avail. Now, at the end of the last day of class, he was no closer to understanding why he wasn't able to harness the Force in this manner, and it had begun to wear on him. There was very little he had not mastered as he'd progressed through his training; usually, he absorbed new techniques like a Kelefian sea sponge, faster and  more efficiently than the others.

Obi-Wan rose from his chair and moved to stare out at the skyline of Coruscant, musing over the billions of people that inhabited the city-world. So many minds, all buzzing with energy, individual and unique, and he probably couldn't make a single one of them so much as blink when they weren't planning to.

"A Jedi craves not these things," he said softly, twisting the old maxim around. Why was it so important, anyway? He'd rarely seen Qui-Gon use his abilities to influence others. His master was far more comfortable using his diplomatic training, easing the leaders of other worlds into acquiescence through the power of persuasion. Still, he was troubled by the thought of displeasing Qui-Gon. He very much wanted to be a senior apprentice his master could be proud of. After seven years together, a great deal still hinged on the quest for his master's respect. He  would not let Qui-Gon down. Especially now that there was so much at stake.

He was nearly twenty, his own man, but there were still milestones to be passed in his quest toward certain personal goals. The Jedi Order did not demand perfection, nor did his master. His own sense of what was required dictated that he pass every test at the top of the list, and that he do it better than the rest of his yearmates. He had spent years punishing himself, driving himself
harder than Qui-Gon would ever have thought to push him, just so he would never disappoint the man whose opinion mattered more than any other.

And now, he was at that landmark age, when an apprentice could choose to be permanently bonded to his master if the master accepted that choice. He would never know if Qui-Gon would initiate that bond, not if he didn't pass every test. It had become so important to him that nearly every other consideration was blocked from his mind. The thought of being held back a year
in his studies seemed inconsequential by comparison.

He wanted Qui-Gon Jinn, and he meant to have his opportunity to make that known.

Soft chimes interrupted his reverie, startling him, and Obi-Wan reached for the comlink. "Kenobi."

"Seeking your master, I was." The grave, oddly pitched tones of Master Yoda's words filled the room. "Business elsewhere, has he?"

"Yes, Master. He's gone to meet with Master Windu." Obi-Wan caught himself straightening automatically at the very sound of Yoda's voice, and he grinned at his own conditioning. "Can I be of assistance?"

"Practice you require. Much practice. Called to discuss this with Qui-Gon, I did, but it can wait. Come to Training Room Ten."

"Yes, Master Yoda. I'll be right there." Inwardly, Obi-Wan was grateful. Yoda had taken a personal interest in making sure he passed this most recent exercise. Still, working with Yoda was intimidating. He was, after all, the best Force-user among the Jedi.

Obi-Wan quickly made his way to the training ring and found Yoda there, following the movements of other students as they ran through various drills. His sharp, knowing eyes zeroed in on Obi-Wan as he trotted across the enormous room, tracking him until he rested on one knee before the venerable Master.

Yoda wasted no time with greetings or pleasantries, but cut straight to the heart of things with a simple question. "Tell me, Obi-Wan. Why do you resist your own gifts?"

Whatever Obi-Wan had been expecting, it wasn't remotely related to the question he'd just been asked. "My...what?"

Yoda moved forward a few small steps, looking into Obi-Wan's face, eyes narrowed. "Gifted, are you, as few others are, yet use your gifts you do not. Too important to you is your master's approval, more important than the Force."

"But I-" Obi-Wan stopped in mid-protest, as the truth of the words struck him. He'd been focusing on the wrong goal, and failing the very clever test his master had set for him.

Yoda nodded, pleased, watching as Obi-Wan processed the flash of insight. "Yes, see this you do. Now you must overcome it. Manipulate me, you will."

"No, Master Yoda!" The very thought was abhorrent.

"Fear of failure, have you, or of success?" Yoda poked at Obi-Wan with his walking stick. "Discover for yourself you must which it will be."

Determined, Obi-Wan gave a short nod and climbed to his feet, hands at his sides. With deep breaths, he centered himself, giving himself over to the Force, summoning it and letting it flow through him.

*This is Master Yoda. Surely you don't think you'll be able to influence him.*

The voice came from deep inside him, somewhere in that place between his intuition and his self-esteem. Frowning, he opened his eyes, and concentrated. Something simple, perhaps. "You don't want that walking stick, do you? Perhaps you should hand it to me." A subtle push accompanied the words, just a tiny nudge with the Force.

"Need it, I do," Yoda answered, smiling slightly.

"Not really. You can get along without it, can't you?" A harder push this time, more abrupt. Obi-Wan felt the Force singing within him, felt it around him like a cocoon. Tendrils of Force-energy whispered inside him, taking root in his voice. "Hand it to me."

"No, Padawan."

"You will hand it to me." Suddenly there was something else in those bright wisps of energy, something ghostly and defiant. "Now."

Yoda hesitated for the barest fraction of a second, his hand curling around the hilt of his stick. "No."

Obi-Wan stopped, feeling a frustrating helplessness creeping over him. "This is useless, Master Yoda. I can't control it."

"Can't, won't." Yoda pounded his stick into the hard floor, drawing the momentary attentions of many in the room. "You are stubborn, Padawan, fixed on what you cannot do. Use the Force. Know how, you do, better than most your age. Do it!"

Obi-Wan felt the storm in his blood, even as his vision grew dark for a moment. His hand passed across the empty space in front of him, directing the throbbing wave of invisible energy away fromhim, toward Yoda with a tremendous surge. He gasped as the physical sensation struck him, leaving his knees weak. "Now, Master Yoda. You will hand me the stick immediately."

"Padawan!" Yoda stepped forward quickly, but stopped when Obi-Wan made a small, furtive gesture, waving him away. Warily, the Jedi Master leaned forward, watching the young man closely.

Obi-Wan licked his lips and tasted the salt tang of blood. His nose was bleeding, he realized; an interesting development, to be sure, but it didn't change the intent of the lesson. He wipedaway the thin trickle from his upper lip and lifted his head higher. "You will release the stick to me." He spoke, and bit by bit, something ebbed out from inside him, a tension he hadn't known
he was holding in his body. It seemed a great effort to see through the fog enveloping his eyes, but he stared at Yoda, face neutral and composed.

Yoda nodded, and slowly extended the stick to him. "Need this, I do not," he agreed.

Obi-Wan released his control of the Force, and found that it was all that had been holding him up. He crumpled to the ground, bone tired, oblivious to the alarmed cries of the other padawans. Yoda hurried nearer, but there was something else, someone close by, and Obi-Wan turned his head, seeking that comforting presence.

"Came quickly, you did," Yoda said quietly, speaking to someone behind Obi-Wan. "Expected you, I should have. The boy did well."

Obi-Wan rolled to his side and felt himself lifted into strong arms. "I'll take him home," rumbled the deep voice of his master. It made him smile, just before he sank into the oblivion of exhausted sleep.

*****

Qui-Gon stretched out alongside Obi-Wan's still form, stroking his hair with gentle fingers. In the semi-darkness of their quarters, the younger man's skin seemed especially pale and smooth, and he couldn't resist the urge to touch, to run his greedy fingers over the curve of Obi-Wan's shoulder, across the hollow at his throat. He watched the chest rise and fall, listened to the soft breathing.

It was amazing how important the boy had become to him in such a short span of years. No longer a boy, but a man, he automatically corrected himself. Ready to take on the greater challenges posed to him by the Order. He was so different than Qui-Gon had expected, so much more talented, so serious. So focused on becoming a Jedi.

Without being told, Qui-Gon had deciphered the reasons for Obi-Wan's distress over promotion to senior apprentice. There were privileges accorded those who had reached the rank of senior. For one thing, it was assumed that they would eventually take their Trials; those padawans who simply could not or would not adjust to the life of a nomadic civil servant were quietly redirected into other fields, other duties. Seniors were allowed to leave the Temple unsupervised, carried a drastically reduced class load, and could negotiate on their own, with guidance from their masters.

However, none of those things were motivating Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon experienced a surge of tenderness as he looked at his padawan. It was the senior bonding ritual, of course - no other event was as important to a padawan in love with his master. Or, for that matter, for a master who wanted desperately to strengthen the bond between himself and his padawan, who coincidentally was also his lover.

It was not uncommon for such physical relationships to begin between the eighteenth and twentieth namedays of padawans, as it had with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. They had worked so hard to become a team with trust and skill between them, and in conquering their own doubts, they had conquered one another.  Few master/padawan pairs, however, remained lovers for
more than a few cycles, and fewer still ever actually requested permission to undergo the bonding ritual. It was a promise between student and teacher that one day, when all constraints were removed, they would choose to remain together.

Qui-Gon had never imagined that he would find a mate in his capacity as teacher, or that his serious and infinitely loving student would want him with the same fierce loyalty and devotion he gave his duty. But it had happened, and the Force had shown him it was good, was right. Even Yoda had nodded his head with approval when Qui-Gon poured out his worries; the ancient
master had promised to find a way to ease the transition for Obi-Wan, to help Obi-Wan clear the last hurdle.

From across the Temple, he had felt Obi-Wan's tremendous struggle to remain in the moment, to overstep Yoda's formidable will, and it had sent him running through the hallways without thought. He supposed Mace would probably forgive him for upending the entire table, documents and datapads included, in his haste, though he might have to suffer a lecture about the necessity of allowing Obi-Wan to walk his own path.

He didn't really want to hear the lecture, so it was good that his padawan needed him. Time enough for apologies later.

Carefully, he shifted on the bed and frowned ruefully as the motion caused Obi-Wan to stir, waking finally from his lengthy sleep. The hazel-green eyes peered hazily out from beneath lowered lids.

"Have you been watching me all this time?" his apprentice demanded hoarsely.

"It's been a long time since I've had a senior padawan in my bed," Qui-Gon informed him gravely. "I'm not accustomed to the sight of it."

A pleased grin lit Obi-Wan's features, and he stretched slowly, sensual enough to tempt an elderly Jedi monk. "I succeeded, then?"

"You did." Qui-Gon grinned back and folded his arms around Obi-Wan, who had snuggled close, murmuring his satisfaction.

"I've missed this," came the muffled words, breath warm against Qui-Gon's bare chest.

"You should go back to sleep," Qui-Gon urged, half hoping he would do no such thing. "You overtaxed yourself today. You need rest."

"Could you stop being my master for just a moment, please?" came the silky plea.

Qui-Gon leaned close, speaking in a low tone. "Even if I were inside you right now, making you whimper and moan, I'd still be your master." He tickled the edge of Obi-Wan's ear with his beard, chuckling at the shiver of delight he produced.

"I understand now why I couldn't use the Force," Obi-Wan told him, rolling back in order to see Qui-Gon's face. "I wanted too much to please you, and I wasn't living in the moment. I was thinking too much of what was around me, of all I had to do, instead of merely doing it."

"The Living Force exists in the moment, and in the next moment," Qui-Gon said, his fingers carding gently through Obi-Wan's short hair. "Much as my love for you exists now, and will exist in the next moment, and in all the moments to come." He kissed the top of Obi-Wan's head. "You have nothing to prove to me, Padawan."

 "But if I am not strong enough -" Obi-Wan broke off, swallowing hard. "There will be a time when all I can do to help you is use what you have taught me. I must be good enough. Better than good."

"You will be good enough, Obi-Wan. It is your gift to be strong, if not always wise." Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan's face, tracing the stubborn line of his jaw. "Haven't we already established that? You have taken a stand in defiance of me more than once. Your reputation - for doing what is right rather than what is correct - precedes you in the Temple. "This was about much more,
wasn't it? It was about the apprentice bonding ritual."

"Yes," Obi-Wan admitted, and Qui-Gon felt his heart stop for a moment at the look of intense desire in those beautiful eyes. "I wanted it so much that I sabotaged myself as I walked the path toward my goal."

"You needn't have worried. If you had asked, I would gladly have reassured you on this point." Qui-Gon bit him gently on the shoulder.

"Oh," Obi-Wan breathed, arching into the lips that traced each fading edge of the bite mark.

Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan's neck, working his way over the collarbone, trying hard to ignore the nagging intuition at the back of his mind, some tiny bit of foresight too distant to grasp and examine. "You understand that this bond will enhance the training bond we share?"

"I know. I want that. Very much. I want to be so much more to you, Qui-Gon, if that would please you..."

"It would please me, Obi-Wan. In every way possible." Qui-Gon emphasized his words with a slow assault on Obi-Wan's mouth, a sweep of tongue through his sigh of pleasure, teasing him and leaving him breathless. "Now go to sleep. We will discuss this at length tomorrow."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan apparently couldn't resist one more kiss, and Qui-Gon gave it willingly, pulling back before desire could consume them both, trying and probably failing to achieve a stern look.

"Sleep!"

"Very well," Obi-Wan grumbled, giving up.

Qui-Gon knew his was a temporary victory. After all, he would have been just as satisfied if he had lost to the power of persuasion. He pulled a sheet across them both and listened to Obi-Wan's breathing slow again, become regular and deep. He closed his eyes, hoping the night would pass quickly and without dreams.

Dreams were nothing, compared to this reality.

Epilogue

"You *will* take your clothes off."

[rustling noises]

"You *will* come here, and put your mouth...oh."

[silence]

"Well, this is more like it!" [pause] "I'm getting better at this mind trick thing, aren't I?"

"Marginally. But if I wait for you to improve enough to manipulate me, we'll never be naked together, and I'll never be able to put my mouth here on your-"

"You *will* be silent."

"I will, but you won't."

"What do you - oh! Ohhhhh...Master!"

[soft moans]

"You do most definitely please me, my Padawan."

End.