Archive: master_apprentice and Jedi Moon, others ask, please
Category: Angst, romance, first time
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Obi-Wan confesses his love to Qui-Gon, and is
surprised when that love is returned.
Feedback: yes, please, any and all comments welcome.
3:00 a.m.
Qui-Gon appeared at the door in response to the knock, a worn
robe hurriedly drawn on over bare chest and soft, loose
drawstring pants. He was barefoot, and his hair, loosened from
its thong, hung soft around his shoulders and face. He carried
a sheaf of papers which he had obviously been reading before
bedtime.
"Obi-Wan!" he exclaimed. "What brings you here at this hour?"
"I . . ." Obi-Wan began.
"I'm sorry, where are my manners? Come in, come in." He moved
away from the door, holding it open as Obi-Wan came through. As
Obi entered the older man's quarters through the narrow door,
his shoulder brushed against Qui-Gon's bare chest, and a
shudder ran through him that he could barely contain. He was
holding himself in close control as it was, and he began to
think that perhaps this wasn't one of his wisest ideas.
In fact, it was probably a complete mistake. It wasn't too late
yet to rectify it.
"I'm sorry, Master, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have
bothered you so late. I'll just be going now, I'll talk with
you tomorrow. I'm sorry," and he moved toward the door again.
"Obi, what it is? You know you're always welcome here. Come,
sit down. I was just thinking of making tea."
"No, really, it's okay. It's nothing. It's late. I should be
going."
"Obi-Wan," the Master said sternly. "Sit."
He moved toward the small kitchen and began taking the tea
things from the cupboard. As he filled the kettle, he looked
over his shoulder at his apprentice, sitting at the table with
his head in his hands. Whatever it was that was bothering his
padawan, he'd never seen him quite this distraught.
He had known this young man since he was a boy, and thought
that he knew his every emotion, but this was a new one. Obi-Wan
always seemed so self-assured, cocky, almost.
He never seemed out of his element, he seemed able to feel at
home in almost any situation, but this . . .
He scooped tea out of the tin into a stone teapot, and filled
it with water from his old, battered kettle. As he prepared the
tea, he spoke to Obi-Wan: "How did your lessons go today,
Padawan? It's so close to your graduation time, I imagine it's
quite exciting to think of putting them behind you for good."
As he turned to bring the tea to the table, he saw that
Obi-Wan's face had turned ashen.
"Obi! What is it? Tell me, please."
He sat at the table across from the boy--now not so much a boy
any longer, of course, nearing his twentieth year--and placed
his hands over those of his apprentice, clutched together on
the tabletop.
"Obi," he began again. "Tell me."
"I can't. It's too . . . embarrassing."
"It's more than embarrassing, by the looks of you. You look
wretched. What is it? Is it your studies? Are you worried you
won't advance to the next level? Has one of the instructors
given you reason to fear that? I'll talk to them, don't worry.
Who was it? Yoda?"
"No, Sir, it's nothing like that. It's personal . . ."
"Yes? Whatever it is, you know you can tell me. Come on, you
know what they say about burdens shared."
"Well . . . I . . . It's just that . . ." and he hung his head
again, pulling his hands out from under Qui-Gon's, and covering
his face. Then, suddenly, he seemed to gather strength, and he
sat up straight.
"I'm sorry, Master. This isn't like me."
"No, it isn't, Obi-Wan, and that's why I'm concerned. Tell me,
please, or I'll be forced to thump you." Obi looked up quickly
to see the affectionate smile on the face of his Master, and
that made him smile, which in turn gave him strength.
"I'm in love, Master, and it's tearing me apart."
Qui-Gon used all his powers to keep himself from chuckling at
that, and succeeded in keeping all but the merest smile from
his face.
"Ah. Love. Well, my Obi-Wan, I know it doesn't seem like it
now, but you'll fall in and out of love a hundred times by the
time you're my age. Although it never gets any easier, I must
admit," he ended, almost wistfully. "Who's the lucky girl?"
Obi-Wan began to seem agitated again, and looked around almost
wildly, as if looking for an escape route. "There is no girl,
Master," he began.
"Young man, then," Qui-Gon said, the barest flicker of hope
beginning to burn in his chest.
"Master . . .""
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"
"It's you," he said, and it all began to spill out in a rush of
words, pent up too long. "I'm sorry. I just can't stop thinking
about it, about you. I'm sorry." And he covered his face once
again.
Qui-Gon's mind began to race. He could hardly take this in. Was
it possible that this was really happening? He had been sitting
here brooding on this very thing, reports forgotten in his
hand, when Obi-Wan knocked on the door. He'd been preoccupied
for weeks now, thinking of Obi-Wan in his arms, after that one
chance remark and heated glance that he had convinced himself,
later, that he had imagined.
He had passed Obi-Wan in the courtyard one afternoon after the
younger man's exercises, himself dressed in his full tunic and
robes, hands tucked into his sleeves, on his way to a council
meeting. Obi-Wan was disheveled, dirty, sweaty, panting from
his recent exertions, his hair sticking up in a hundred
different directions, a smear of red earth on his cheek, his
braid coming undone.
Qui-Gon had smiled at his apprentice as they passed, and said
quietly, "Obi, I do hope you're on your way to the showers,"
and Obi-Wan had turned and said, "You could help, if you like,"
the invitation blatant in his eyes. Qui-Gon had laughed at the
time, said, "Oh, I think you're capable of washing yourself,
young Padawan, even though I've done it enough times over the
years to be quite good at it."
He had walked away, still chuckling, and hadn't thought about
it again until, hours later, sitting through one of the driest
council meetings in years, it had risen, unbidden, to his mind,
and he began to think of himself and Obi-Wan in the showers,
the cool stones beneath their feet, the hot water pounding down
from above . . .
Well. Surely not, he had thought. Just a chance remark with no
meaning on the part of the young knight. He was tired, after
all, and Obi-Wan was known to be occasionally disrespectful
even at the best of times. Still, that one remark and its
attendant fantasies kept playing in Qui-Gon's mind, over and
over, until he could think of little else.
He roused himself from the fantasy, as it played out yet again,
prompted by young Obi-Wan's confession. He looked up to see Obi
standing, obviously thinking that he'd put his foot in his
mouth yet again, beginning to move toward the door, dejectedly.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I shouldn't have said anything. I
just . . ."
"Obi-Wan. Oh my. Come here, please."
Obi turned back around obediently and moved toward his Master,
who was still sitting at the small table. "Come here," Qui-Gon
said again, parting his legs and pulling Obi-Wan in close. He
wrapped his arms around the young man and rested his face on
the other's chest.
"Obi-Wan, do you remember that day a few weeks ago when you
invited me to share your shower?"
He could feel the young man's embarrassment and uneasy smile.
"Yes, Master, I thought better of that remark later, but it was
too late to do anything about it, and I thought I'd make it
worse if I apologized."
"There was no apology necessary, Padawan. I've thought of
little else since that day. The thought of you and I, in the
showers together, my helping you wash the sweat off that
beautiful body . . ."
His arousal was becoming painfully apparent, and, embarrassed,
he pushed the chair back slightly, releasing Obi-Wan from the
circle of his arms. He still hadn't said anything
irretrievable, hadn't embarrassed himself too badly. This was
still recoverable.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. Forgive me. I knew you were teasing me. It
didn't mean anything. No harm done." He tried to smile, but he
knew it must look false, strained. There was nothing he could
do about it. He was trained in diplomacy, but this . . . this
was too much to bear. How could he send this man away? How
could he let him out of his arms now, once he'd had him there?
But more importantly, how could he draw the young knight into a
relationship that could only lead to unhappiness and
disappointment? It was his turn to apologize: "I'm sorry . . ."
"Didn't you hear what I said, Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan asked.
"I meant every word I said. I meant it then, and I mean it now.
I love you. I can't help but say it. I've been thinking it for
so long, it's so much a part of me, you're so much a part of
me, that I can't stop thinking about it. I can't believe that
my training is going to be over in two months, and I'll
probably be reassigned somewhere else, and I'll have to leave
and maybe never see you again. I couldn't bear to leave without
you knowing. I'm sorry. I know you couldn't possibly feel the
same way . . ." He stopped, flustered.
"Oh, but I do," Qui-Gon said quietly.
"What?" Obi-Wan sputtered. "You . . . do?"
"Yes, I do. Don't make me repeat it, at least not yet," he
said, and smiled.
"But I thought . . ."
"You thought what, Obi-Wan?"
"That you . . . that you liked women."
"I do like women. I love women. I've bedded both men and women,
and find that there isn't much difference, really, because you
know, the most important sexual organ is right here," he said,
tapping his temple with an index finger. "The most important
thing isn't the particular way that bodies fit together, but
the way that minds fit together."
"But having said that . . ." He smiled. "Your body is put
together exceptionally well. Why is it so hard for you to think
that I could care for you in that way?"
Obi-Wan took a breath and spread his hands. "I don't know.
You're my teacher, a Jedi master, you're on the Council,
everyone respects you, you're brilliant, you're important . .
." He trailed off.
Qui-Gon nodded. "Master Yoda looks at me and sees his wayward
apprentice of years past, the young man who found it so hard to
obey his seemingly meaningless orders without endless debate.
The other Padawan Knights look at me and see their old,
set-in-his-ways teacher, but you, you look at me and see . . ."
He paused.
"I see the man that I love," Obi-Wan finished. "Yes, I see.
It's all in the way we look at things, isn't it?"
"Right here, Obi-Wan, right here," Qui-Gon said, tapping his
temple again.
Obi-Wan stood and moved toward Qui-Gon, a small smile on his
lips and light in his eyes. He embraced his teacher, taller
than he by a head, and pressed his face into Qui-Gon's robes,
inhaling the scent that was so uniquely him: a mixture of
tobacco, spices, and the dry, sharp smell of the sand on
Tatooine which never seemed to completely go away, no matter
how many times a tunic was washed.
In Obi-Wan's mind, Qui-Gon smelled like Christmas. He knew it
was simply that he associated the older man's scent with
holidays because, for most of his life, Qui-Gon was the only
family that he had--even though he was not required to do so,
his Master was kind enough that he always saw to it that
Obi-Wan had gifts for his birthdays and Christmas, and for some
reason his mind had melded the two things together and they
could no longer be separated.
"Christmas present," he murmured into Qui-Gon's chest.
"What?"
"Nothing," he said, smiling.
Obi-Wan broke from the embrace and moved away, tugging Qui-Gon
along with him, toward the sleeping chambers. Although Obi-Wan
had been tentative, frightened, even, in declaring his love for
Qui-Gon, he was not inexperienced at lovemaking. Once he had
made his intentions known, and they were seemingly returned by
the man he desired, he expected that those desires would be
satisfied.
"It's very late, Padawan. You have classes tomorrow. Don't you
think it's time to get some sleep?"
"But I thought . . ."
"Every desire does not have to be satisfied immediately,
Obi-Wan. Sometimes anticipation increases the pleasure. Go,
sleep now. We'll talk more tomorrow."
"May I stay with you?" he asked.
"Not tonight, Obi-Wan. Soon, perhaps. I think we should take
this slowly and see where it leads, rather than rushing into
it. If it is right, it will happen."
"I know it's right, Master."
"If it is right, it will happen. Now go, sleep."
"Goodnight, Qui-Gon. I love you."
"I love you, too, Obi-Wan. Tomorrow," and he practically pushed
the young man out the door and into the corridor. He stood in
the doorway and watched as Obi-Wan walked away toward his own
room, one of a group of four smaller rooms occupied by young
Jedi in training, as he was. When Obi-Wan reached his own door,
he turned and looked back at Qui-Gon, raising his eyebrows as
if to ask, "Are you sure about this?" Qui-Gon simply smiled and
moved back into his room, closing the door and leaning against
it from the inside.
"By the Force," he thought. "What have I gotten us into?"
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