A Padawan's Crush

by Leandra (nuttersincorporated@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG 13
Category: Pre-Slash, Qui/Obi
Disclaimer: This, my dear Jude Watson, is my take on "Jedi Apprentice" and the earlier years that Obi-Wan spends as Qui-Gon's Padawan. You can go on disrespecting the memory of Qui-Gon in "Jedi Quest", but I simply treat your stories as AU. The characters of Qui and Obi belong to Master George, but I know that what I write about makes them both a lot happier than what he has invented.
Feedback: Please? Tell me what you think.
Series: Yes.
Second in a so far unnamed series that starts with "Shave". You might want to read the first one, but it is not necessary for your understanding of the story. Of course, I recommend reading it...
Note: This might end a bit on the melancholy side, but as you are all familiar with fanon, you can look forward to the next installment. Obi-Wan is 17 in this.
Thanks to my wonderful beta-reader Tem-Ve, who prevented Obi-Wan from "coming" in this story.

"Master?" Obi-Wan asked when he entered their deserted rooms. Nobody answered him.

Carelessly, he pulled of his boots and threw them on the floor next to the door. He knew that if Qui-Gon caught him doing that, he would fume with anger and make him come into their rooms and put the boots on the mat neatly for at least 50 times. He discarded his sweaty socks too and looked at them for a moment. Their aroma was so strong that he decided to toss them next to his equally stinking boots.

"Master? I wanted to ask...."

He went across the empty living space to the small kitchen and peeked inside. It was deserted as well.

"Master?!"

"In the bathroom, Obi-Wan," came the answer.

Slowly, hesitantly Obi-Wan made his way over to the open bathroom door. Should he? He wasn't sure if it was in order to simply walk into the bathroom when his Master was in there. But his Master's reply had sounded a lot like a request to join him. He stopped in front of the threshold and stared at his feet. Warm moist air wafted from the room, accompanied by an enticing smell of fresh herbs.

"Come in, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, amusement evident in his deep voice.

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan took a step forward, blushing at the sight that greeted him when he raised his head. Qui-Gon was lazily lying in the bathtub, his back leaning against the edge of the tub, one arm floating in the greenish water, the other hanging over the side of the bathtub, beads of water dripping off his fingers, hitting the floor with a soft sound. One long leg was stretched out, the foot resting on the bathtub wall, the other was bent, the knee surfacing from the steamy water.

"What do you need to know, Padawan?" Qui-Gon said gently, trying not to notice the obvious flush on his apprentice face. He wasn't sure if the embarrassment evident on Obi-Wan's cheeks was the proof that the typical Padawan crush had kicked in, or -- more hopefully -- that Obi-Wan was not entirely comfortable with seeing his Master in a bathtub (which would be natural, for Obi-Wan himself had reached an age where he compared his own body to that of others). Briefly Qui-Gon pondered if Obi-Wan regarded him as an old man, and hence was flustered, but then dismissed the thought when Obi-Wan approached him, control back on his unreadable features.

"I wondered if you are okay. I heard that you hurt your back today in one of your classes. You really shouldn't have started to teach classes so soon after your injury on Yavin," Obi-Wan chided his Master softly.

Qui-Gon suppressed a grin at the lecturing tone in Obi-Wan's voice and decided to dismiss the audacity his Padawan was displaying. He was sure Obi-Wan didn't mean to be cheeky, he was merely concerned.

Qui-Gon raised his arm and rubbed his eyebrows with thumb and index finger. He sighed.

"I'm fine Padawan. I should not have tried to do the fifth level kata when my back was not fully healed," he admitted.

Obi-Wan gave him a look that clearly spoke of his contentment with the rightness of his assumption. Qui-Gon hated that well-known look and he had named it some years ago the 'I-told-you-so look'. He chose to dismiss a comment on that look too. It wouldn't make his back hurt less.

"That's why I'm taking a nice long bath so the muscles in my lower back can relax."

"I hope that was a suggestion from the healers and not an attempt at self-medication?" Obi-Wan said rather arrogantly, his arms crossed in front of him.

Teenagers! Qui-Gon thought, sighing. They think they know everything. He remembered when Obi-Wan was still a cute obedient kid, never impertinent or rebellious, and far from that cheeky bastard he had to deal with now. Qui-Gon was very glad that this phase would be over soon. The last throes of puberty, it was always a struggle.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, as if he was sensing Qui-Gon's thoughts. "You were NOT at the healers," he simply stated.

"The only problem is I'm not able to wash my hair. I can't put my arms back, because then my abused muscles cramp," Qui-Gon confessed.

The young man sighed and let his arms drop to each side. "You want me to help you wash that mane of yours?" he asked, his voice a little unnerving.

Qui-Gon simply nodded. There were other times and other places to teach his adolescent Padawan lessons in respect. All he wanted at that moment was to get rid of the itches and mucks in the dusty mass he called his hair. Obi-Wan sighed, annoyed. "Okay, can you lean forward?"

Qui-Gon tried, his face contorting in pain. He paled visibly and shook his head.

"How did you get in there in the first place?" Obi-Wan demanded to know, but then held up a hand to stop Qui-Gon from answering him. "No, don't tell me, I don't want to know."

Obi-Wan sighed, then bent forward and started to roll the fabric of his leggings up to his knees. Qui-Gon watched him with a quirked eyebrow.

"What are you doing, oh cheeky Padawan mine?" he asked, amusement vibrating in his voice.

Obi-Wan was finished with rolling up the legs of his trousers and straightened his body again. He rolled his eyes at his Master and let out an annoyed sigh.

"I'm going to sit on the rim of the bathtub behind you, so I can wash your hair, oh my overly curious and careless Master."

He was rewarded with a dangerous growl from Qui-Gon. "I swear Obi-Wan, if it wasn't for my injury and you weren't too old for that, I would bend you over my knee and spank you for that impudence."

Obi-Wan grinned and settled himself behind Qui-Gon and slid his feet over the rim of the tub, placing them on each side of Qui-Gon's upper body.

"Strange, I can't remember you ever doing that."

"It was an omission, I can clearly see that now. What's that awful smell?" Qui-Gon asked and his face contorted into a grimace of disgust.

"Don't tell me. You came here directly from saber-practice, Padawan. Your feet stink!" he concluded.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but snicker. "Shh... be still Master or I'll think it over. You are at my mercy for once."

Qui-Gon growled again. "Then get it over with. I don't know what's worse, the itching mass of hair or your feet next to my head smelling like Bantha poodoo."

His Padawan refused to answer, instead slid forward and submerged his feet in the water. "Better? Hand me the shower hose and stop whining, will you?"

With a muttered curse, Qui-Gon reached for the shower head and handed it to Obi-Wan, wincing when his muscles contorted painfully.

"Don't let Master Yoda hear you cursing like that in my company, or he will give you a lecture on how your cussing could be a bad influence on my development. Cussing, to the dark side it leads..." Obi-Wan said cheerfully and switched the water on.

"I think a spanking will be in order...," his Master snarled, but Obi-Wan could hear amusement in his tone.

Obi-Wan set to his task of wetting the Master's long silver-brown hair, without spilling the water into his eyes.

"Is the temperature all right?" he asked.

"Mhhmm...hmm." Qui-Gon hummed and closed his eyes, the warm water and Obi-Wan's fingers combing softly through his hair relaxing him immensely.

The conversation came to a halt, the silence broken only by one or two of Qui-Gon's contended hums.

"Soap," Obi-Wan said suddenly and the pleasant stream of warm water was shut off.

It took Qui-Gon a moment to return to reality, so relaxed did he feel. He opened his eyes and grabbed for the bar of soap that lay on a small tray embedded in the tiled wall and handed it over to his suddenly very quiet Padawan.

Obi-Wan lathered his hands with the soap bar and then slid them into the strands of Qui-Gon's hair. He started to softly rub the foam into the dark wet mass, provoking low hums of content out of his Master. His lips curled into a grin. He always found that his Master resembled a big dangerous cat when he fought, but now he purred like a house kitten. He took his time to soap the strands, massaging his Master's scalp in the process.

The dark heavy hair felt silky and soft under his hands and he discovered that he enjoyed burying his hands in it. He leaned forward to watch his Master's face and his smile broadened when he saw that Qui-Gon had closed his eyes under his ministrations and that a small smile played across his lips. His heart ached suddenly and with confusion he detected that he felt a big tenderness for his Master. He suppressed a gasp at the revelation of this feeling, and instead continued to massage Qui-Gon's scalp, his fingers sliding to his Master's temple and rubbing them softly.

Qui-Gon shifted and leaned backwards, his head lolling back into Obi-Wan's lap, his damp hair wetting Obi-Wan's leggings. Obi-Wan swallowed audibly and allowed his gaze to roam over Qui-Gon's face, studying every line around his eyes, every shade of stubble on his chin, then he slid his eyes downwards to Qui-Gon's upper chest, taking in the fine muscles and the dark line of curly hair that started on his stomach, leading down to his belly button and beyond, vanishing under the waterline... Obi-Wan shook his head and tore his gaze from Qui-Gon's body. He shifted uncomfortably when something, something like a spark shot through his body and he felt the first stirrings of arousal. Confused, he almost yanked Qui-Gon's head from his lap and with shaking hands reached for the shower head, turning the water on with fumbling hands.

Qui-Gon was ripped from his relaxed state by a cold spray of water splashing over his face and he surged forward, sputtering. His hands came up to his face and he wiped the foam out of his eyes, cursing violently.

"Sith! Obi-Wan, what do you think you are doing!"

He turned around to see his Padawan sitting behind him, face flushed with embarrassment, the shower hose in hands, a sheepish look on his red-tinted face.

"I'm sorry Master," he whispered and ducked his head.

Qui-Gon leaned back again and was rewarded with a decent warm stream of water to rinse the foam out of his hair.

Obi-Wan continued with his task, his trembling hands tugging on the tangled strands. He tried to get it over with as fast as he could without sloshing more water into the Master's face. With all his skill he tried to calm his laboured breathing, both from the shock of the revelation the spark of desire had caused and from the spark itself.

In his haste he caught his fingers in Qui-Gon's wet mane and produced a wince out of his Master. "S...Sorry," he apologised again, then rinsed Qui-Gon's hair once more until the foam had disappeared completely.

Without a further word, he shut the water off and pulled his legs from the water, his feet brushing Qui-Gon's side and arms in the process, so hasty was his retreat. He almost fled the bathroom, his embarrassment too evident on his face that he didn't wish to turn his head and look back. He nearly slipped with his wet feet on the tiled floor, but managed to catch himself and steady his weight on the door frame.

Qui-Gon shook his head and watched his hurriedly retreating Padawan, who had caught a load of water himself and was wet from head to toe. He reached for a towel and dried his hair off, his muscles protesting once more, but he figured it wouldn't be a good idea to call Obi-Wan back to help him. Something had disturbed his apprentice and caused the slip of concentration and he could only guess what it had been. He sighed deeply and rose from the water, carefully towelling his body. He noticed an aching feeling of sadness and wondered if his Padawan's inexplicable behaviour of could have originated from the fact that he had been too casual around his Padawan and that the forced intimacy of washing his hair had not been to Obi-Wan's liking.

He had no intention to force his youthful apprentice into such intimacy, but the fact that Obi-Wan had taken care of his hair with such dedication had seduced him into letting his guard down, and he had allowed himself to bask in the warmth of his apprentice's ministrations, something that should not have happened, he now realized. He had put his own satisfaction above their teaching relationship, and for a moment he had almost forgotten that the hands that had brought him pleasure belonged to his student. And it had been pleasurable.

He sighed again and stepped out of the tub, carefully drying his feet. He cursed himself that he had asked Obi-Wan to help him and that his wish had prompted such a reaction from both of them. He had enjoyed having Obi-Wan's warm presence surrounding him, he had delighted in his attention and he felt sorry to cause Obi-Wan embarrassment. He was only a boy, but a boy on the verge of manhood, and simple tasks like washing his Master's hair or brushing it out after a long day might take on a whole new meaning, something Obi-Wan might not be comfortable with.

Qui-Gon had to respect this new aspect and he had tried to consider it in the last two years, giving Obi-Wan the privacy he knew a young teen needed. Today he had unknowingly overstepped this boundary and he knew he had to set it all right again. He took his bathrobe from the hook where it hung next to Obi-Wan's and put it on. When he stepped out into their common room, his Padawan was nowhere to be seen. His heart ached when he looked at the shut door to the Padawan room. Sighing, he went over to the sofa to brush his hair out.

Obi-Wan heard the bathroom door fall shut and the steady footfalls of Qui-Gon's bare feet on the soft carpet outside his room. He looked up from where he was staring at his feet and regarded his locked door with a long look. His cheeks still were flushed and he had no desire to go out there and encounter his Master. Normally, he would wait for Qui-Gon to emerge from his bath sitting on the sofa with the brush already in reach, to comb out his Master's long hair, but today he could not go out there, he just could not.

He swallowed again and then stared at his lap where his wet leggings clung so tightly to his body that they did nothing to conceal his semi-erect cock that caused him confusion and a bit of discomfort. He had gotten aroused by his Master, something he knew Qui-Gon would not wish for and something that had come as totally unexpected even to him.

Of course he had felt desire before, but never for a man, and surely never for his stoic Master. But something in the way his Master had submitted to his hands had excited him, the contented humming and his closed eyes that spoke of utter comfort had coaxed a reaction from him. He had never seen his Master so relaxed and the trust that his Master had in him when he gave himself over to his hands had made him dizzy with joy. The eroticism of this innocent scene had struck him suddenly, and something he would have done for his Master without a second thought just weeks ago suddenly held a new meaning, a meaning that his growing body had grasped before his brain realised it.

He wondered how he could ever encounter his Master again without remembering those moments after realisation had hit him. Not only did he desire the other man, there was something beyond plain physical attraction. That his Master was an attractive man had occurred to him time and again, he could see the proof of his attractiveness on the faces of others occasionally, how they looked at him with those glazed and bright eyes and his only reaction until now had been that of well concealed envy. No, it was something more, something deeper.

He winced when he thought how his feelings might be batted away as the typical Padawan crush. It was not a crush, not even infatuation. The thought frightened him, but brought him joy at the same time. His face lit up in a smile that dropped with the next thought. How could Qui-Gon return his feelings? He was still a boy, even if he felt like a man at times, and his behaviour towards his Master over the last year had been one of cheekiness and impudence. He sighed again. No, Qui-Gon could never love him. He would keep his feelings hidden, as well as he could, but at the same time he would try to spare Qui-Gon any disappointment in him. He would train hard, no, even harder, to show his love. He would be the best apprentice a Jedi Master could wish for. With that thought he settled into a light meditation.