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Archive: master_apprentice, and wherever else as long as you ask me first.

Category: First-Time/Romance/Humor

Rating: PG-13 (calling a fade-to-black NC-17 would be ridiculous)

Warnings: not really.

Spoilers: TPM, but in this version it ended with Qui-Gon surviving the battle between him and Maul.

Summary: After the Jedi Knight trials Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan sort out what to do- -and what not to do, next.

Feedback: Feel free.

KNIGHT

Qui-Gon Jinn waited with the members of the Jedi council for Obi-Wan's return. The trials usually took upwards of four hours, and it had been three already. Qui-Gon wondered if Yoda would mind him using his chair until the trials were over. Probably not a good idea. While Yoda was certainly the best at evaluating prospective knights, the process was taxing, and it was best not to cross paths with the diminutive Jedi master for at least an hour afterwards. Besides, Yoda's chair wasn't that far off the ground anyway. Qui-Gon decided to remain kneeling in the center of the room. Yaddle's current padawan, a bright and optimistic Twi'lek by the name of Y'dren, came in with a tray of drinks. Qui-Gon accepted one from her graciously, and watched the activity in the rest of the council chambers with the detachment of an outsider. None of them were half as uptight as he was, and they seemed to be -for Jedi masters, at least- relaxed. As well they should be... it wasn't their padawans in the trials, after all. Qui-Gon discontinued that train of thought, and took a sip of his drink. It tasted of fruit and rain. Another half hour passed. The other Jedi masters were still talking amongst themselves, but the atmosphere in the council chamber was becoming thicker, and a sphere of no-man's-land had been unofficially established around Qui-Gon, for which he was glad. He didn't really feel like making small talk with anyone just now. He hoped that Obi-Wan would pass. There was no reason for him not to pass, and yet Qui-Gon still worried. He would miss Obi-Wan, -oh, how he would miss him- but any Padawan who could stand his ground against a Sith Lord deserved full knighthood, in Qui-Gon's opinion. Obi-Wan had done that, and more. A faint smile touched Qui-Gon's eyes, as he remembered. The ruby quartz curtains of the force fields had separated them, but Obi-Wan had cut his way through the field generators on the sides of the door-frames, and rejoined him in time to face the Sith lord as a united front. The strange red and black patterned Sith Lord had escaped, ultimately, but as it fled, Qui-Gon had sensed it's not-so-well-disguised terror. -It wouldn't be back to trouble them again for a long time to come. And now, all Obi-Wan had to do was face Yoda. All things being equal, Qui-Gon wondered if the Sith Lord had perhaps been the easier of the two challenges.

Still, Obi-Wan could do it, and deep down, Qui-Gon knew that. -Which didn't stop him from nervously belting down his drink and standing up quickly when he sensed that the trial was over. How it had ended, he couldn't yet tell.

Yoda and Obi-Wan were approaching the council chamber, but they both had their thoughts shielded. Curious. The door swished open, and one look at his student's quietly beaming face told Qui-Gon that he had passed. Yoda, on the other hand, looked positively worn, though pleased with a job well done. The pair paused just inside the room.

"Passed the trials, Obi-Wan has." announced Yoda. "Time to grant him the rank of Jedi knight, it is." Qui-Gon stepped forward, knowing that the next part of the ritual was up to him. Obi-Wan met him halfway, and a hush fell over the company, as they waited for the knighting. It was a simple action, really. Qui-Gon activated his light saber, then reached over with his left hand, and looped Obi-Wan's padawan braid around his fingers. He held it cleanly away from the rest of his student's hair as he cut it from Obi-Wan's head with a deft flick of his shimmering green blade. The sand-colored braid lost tension abruptly, and lay softly against Qui-Gon's palm. He deactivated the blade of his light saber, and pressed the braid into Obi-Wan's hand.

"You earned this." His fingers closed over Obi-Wan's, sealing the braid between them.

"Thank you." Replied Obi-Wan, eyes sparkling. The 'master' that would have ordinarily followed that phrase was markedly absent.

Obi-Wan sounded as if the grouping of words in his mouth tasted strange, though not unpleasant. Qui-Gon released his hand after a moment, and they both took a step back, then bowed, first to each other, then to the council. And with that, it was over.

Anakin looked up eagerly as the door to the play room swished open, but it was only Master Beryl, the children's councilor. Beryl was a young man, only a few years older than Obi-Wan, with a plait of red hair that hung down to the middle of his back. Master Beryl sensed the deep disappointment radiating off the child, and came over to talk to him.

"Hard to wait, eh?" Beryl took a seat on the floor across a pile of blocks from Anakin. Anakin nodded, unsure whether he wanted to talk to Master Beryl or not. The red-haired Jedi was nice, but Anakin had just met him that day.

"It's already been three hours. We should hear something soon." said Master Beryl.

"Master Qui-Gon said I was s'posed to be patient, but he's a lot better at it than me."

"Well, he's had more practice."

"I really hope Obi-Wan passes the tests." sighed Anakin. Master Beryl noticed that some of the blocks on Anakin's side of the pile weren't blocks at all, but the components of a small disassembled machine.

"What are you working on?"

"It's a comlink." Anakin told him, matter-of-factly.

"Where did you get it?"

"It's Obi-Wan's, but he said it wasn't working right."

"Does he know you have it?" asked Beryl. Anakin sensed the potential for getting into trouble here, but decided to stick with the truth anyway.

"Umm... no. But I'm going to give it back to him as soon as it's fixed." he assured hopefully. To his surprise, Master Beryl accepted this.

"Have you figured out what was wrong with it yet?"

"Yup." Anakin pointed to a cracked silicate sealing ring. "It was the water-proofer thingie. Water musta leaked into the casing when he swam to the Gungan city with Master Jinn, but it took a couple of days to start rusting the circuit contacts." Anakin explained.

"Hmm... Where did you learn how to do this?" asked Beryl.

"...But then a tusken raider shot one of his pods down, so-" The door swished open, and Anakin broke off his story abruptly. "Obi-Wan! You passed, didn't you?" Anakin asked, excitedly. There was something almost smug about Obi-Wan's triumphant smile as he replied, "Suffice it to say, we're getting you a haircut."

"Yaaaay!" Anakin did several victory laps around the adults, then settled down a little and tried to remember how a padawan learner was supposed to act. Master Beryl offered Obi-Wan his congratulations, then asked, "Have you given any thought to who you want to be paired with yet?" Obi-Wan paused for a moment, then shook his head.

"Paired?" asked Anakin.

"When new Jedi Knights go out on missions, they usually work in teams of two." Explained Qui-Gon. "It's safer."

"But... I thought you were going to stay with us..." Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan in confusion. Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with Qui-Gon, then replied, "I'll think about it."

THE GARDEN

Obi-Wan was in the meditation garden. Encased in a transparisteel bubble against the artificial tang of Coruscant's atmosphere, the garden had the appearance of a jewel from the outside. It was a fragile and necessary ornament on the spire of the Jedi temple... an emerald, perhaps. The keeper of this garden was not a Jedi knight or master, but rather an eccentric and very focused man named Jerrok, who had chosen this garden after passing the age when he could be taken as an apprentice. Agricorps had wanted him badly, due to his high affinity with plants, but he had dug his heels in, and was in the end allowed to remain on the temple staff. After thirty years in the meditation garden, Jerrok knew more about the way the Jedi worked than half the council. People came, people went. Sometimes they talked to each other. Sometimes they talked to the dead, or people that weren't there. Sometimes they talked to dead people that really WERE there. Such a thing was not unknown, among the Jedi. Jerrok was not a Jedi. Jerrok was simply one of the plants in the garden- -at least he'd spent a long time learning how to cultivate that impression in the minds of others. No-one had seen him in the garden without him wishing it so for over a decade. He cared for the plants, and very occasionally, he would offer advice. He did not think Obi-Wan needed any guidance today. True, the man was confused... but Jerrok felt sure that Obi-Wan could sort this out on his own. He watched over the young knight for a couple of hours, carefully pruning the dead leaves off a Corellian thistlebrush that was entering its dormant cycle. [Sleep, brother, I will greet you when you wake.] Jerrok thought, to the thistlebrush. [Sleep.] the thistlebrush agreed. Obi-Wan remained as oblivious to the exchange as he was to Jerrok's presence, which was the gardener's intention. ><><>< There was a slight ripple in the force. Jerrok decided to go and check on the fireweed sprouts in the greenhouse. The little ones ought to be hungry by now, it was time to turn the lamp on. Jerrok intentionally clipped one of the leaves in a way that made the clippers slightly noisier than they had been, breaking the illusion he had been creating for Obi-Wan's benefit. Obi-Wan looked up, looking almost sleepy from his meditation. He must have been doing it right, because he hadn't even noticed the Gardener was there.

"Oh... Hello, Jerrok."

"Obi-Wan." Jerrok nodded, amiably. He straightened up, then made his way past Obi-Wan, and out through the door of the greenhouse. Obi-Wan watched him go with a vague look of puzzlement on his face. In the greenhouse, Jerrok smiled.

"Obi-Wan? Am I disturbing you?" Qui-Gon asked.

"No... I'd just finished, actually." Obi-Wan paused. "I saw Jerrok."

"Interesting fellow, isn't he?" Qui-Gon smiled.

"Is what they say about him true?"

"You mean is he crazy?"

"In so many words."

"He's not force-mad, as some would have you believe, but Jerrok does not see the world in the same way the rest of us do."

"He thinks he's a plant." pointed out Obi-Wan. "I felt it in his force-signature."

"And I think I'm a Jedi Master." countered Qui-Gon. "Neither of us are impaired by our beliefs."

"That's rather callous, don't you think?"

"Is it?"

"If anyone cared to try, maybe he could be helped."

"Try it sometime. He's incredibly tenacious." Qui-Gon replied. Qui-Gon took a seat on a stone near Obi-Wan, and they were silent a moment.

"You tried, didn't you."

"Mmm." agreed Qui-Gon.

"So what happened?"

"Obi-Wan, are you fishing for a story?"

"...Yes."

"Why?"

"Can we discuss that later?"

"All right." Qui-Gon folded his hands in his lap. "Jerrok chose the garden when he was thirteen, about thirty years ago. I was away on a mission at the time, with my first padawan. I went to see the boy as soon as I got back of course, but by then he'd already made up his mind. Jerrok believed at that time that he had been called to watch over the garden in much the same way that most Jedi feel called to watch over the universe in a larger sense. For Jerrok, this garden BECAME the universe." Qui-Gon smiled, a little sadly. "Even his force-sensitivity is strongest here."

"And that was all?"

"No. As you know, I do not give up easily either. I took him with us on the next mission, over much protesting. He was furious, and did not shield that from me, but he never gave voice to his anger. He simply kept reminding me that I was keeping him from a prior engagement. To this day, I don't know whether I should have kept pushing him to re-join the rest of the universe, or whether I never should have taken him along in the first place. In any case, he returned to the garden soon after we made planetfall back on Coruscant, and he's been here ever since."

"I can't decide whether that's a sad story or not." said Obi-Wan.

"It is." Qui-Gon said, quickly. "Jerrok should have been trained as a Jedi, not passed over as he was. He's incredibly force-sensitive, but without the disciplines he was never taught, he can't control it. I wanted to train him, but I already had a student at the time. -And no-one else wanted to risk training a padawan with that fragile a grasp on his own humanity."

"Wait a minute... was he driven mad by the rejection, or was he already unstable to begin with?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Jerrok's mind is a crystal sword. It's sharper than yours or mine, but infinitely more fragile. Being passed over may or may not have broken him, but it was an accident waiting to happen."

"I see." The problems Obi-Wan had been meditating about suddenly seemed a lot more trivial. He understood Jerrok's delusion better, now. Jerrok thought he was a plant because plants, like him, were bruised by a touch. He was one so sensitive to the force that the impression of another life-force could blot out the awareness of his own, -and had. Jerrok must think of himself as both kin and champion to the plants, the only forms of life that he could interact with on a frequent basis without pain. Unlike the plants, Jerrok could move and speak, but the plants in this garden must care for Jerrok as surely as he cared for them. The plants in this garden formed surrogates for the emotional ties that Jerrok should have formed with humanoids: friends that would never betray. Obi-Wan's head was spinning. According to the Jedi code, life in any form was to be respected, yet here he was categorizing a man older than himself as mad simply because he preferred the company of plants to that of other humanoids. Who was he, to say that plants couldn't make worthy friends? -And yet... this guy genuinely believed himself to be a plant. It wasn't the fact that Jerrok chose plants to people, for preference. It was Jerrok's apparent lack of awareness as to his own identity... the total sublimation of Jerrok's human personality to that of the flora amongst which he lived, that bothered Obi-Wan.

"You look like you want to meditate some more." Observed Qui-Gon. "Do you mind telling me what was bothering you earlier before you do?"

"When?" the question was rhetorical, but Obi-Wan was playing for time, not logic.

"When Master Beryl asked you if you had chosen a partner yet." Qui-Gon reminded him.

"Does it genuinely surprise you that I haven't?" asked Obi-Wan, challenging the older Jedi to question him further.

"No." sighed Qui-Gon.

"Then why do you suddenly wish me to go?"

"Seeing ahead has never been one of my strong points. I had assumed that when you became a knight we would continue to travel together, but now that it's happened... You deserve better than to be lost in my shadow."

"Even if I choose to stand there?"

"I will not be your garden, Obi-Wan." warned Qui-Gon, sharply.

"For someone who insists that my knighthood has changed everything, you are still remarkably comfortable making my decisions for me." Obi-Wan observed.

SMOKE

Qui-Gon lit an incense stick, and poked the unlit end into a bowl of sand and ashes on the low table in front of him. The smoke curled around his fingers as he drew his hand back, then vanished into transparency. Assuming a kneeling stance across from the bowl, Qui-Gon let his mind sink through the first two levels of awareness quickly, like crossing the threshold of a familiar dojo. When he reached the third, he consciously slowed down and watched the room narrow itself onto the bowl, and the air above the table. The smoke curled and threaded itself into patterns that grew in complexity, only to melt away into a smooth warm veil high above the bowl. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, matched his thoughts to the swirls of smoke, and little by little, the smoke began to move in patterns that were no longer random.

He thought of Anakin, poised between one thing and another. Sweet kid. Selfless. Risky. New padawan. His tiny face a question, `What does the future hold for me?'

He thought of The Sith Lord. Where had it gone, and where was the other? Black and red zigzags pointed to the seats of power, to commands, and to council. It feared too much. It was not afraid of HIM... What was it afraid of then?

He thought of Obi-Wan, so eager to be everything. Cutting off a thin plait of Obi-Wan's hair had not changed how Qui-Gon saw his former apprentice, so why had losing that same braid changed so much in Obi-Wan's eyes?

The answer was in the quick, angular movements of Obi-Wan's light saber in battle: He thought from one point to another, not dwelling on the distance between them, nor how he traveled it. Being knighted had allowed Obi-Wan to acknowledge the accomplishments that Qui-Gon had already credited him with. To say nothing of doing away with some very inconvenient rules. Like the one that said students and teachers couldn't be lovers. Qui-Gon would not consider this an all-encompassing change. After all, it was only another language in which to speak what was already felt.

-At twenty-five though, that is not always clear, and he had to keep this in mind when dealing with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had always been one to understand things at different times than other people did. Sometimes he was behind the curve, and at others he was wiser than his years should have allowed him to be. Which was he now?

Qui-Gon wished he knew. His former student was getting progressively harder to second-guess.

'For someone who insists that my knighthood has changed everything, you are still remarkably comfortable making my decisions for me.'

Is that what I'm doing? Qui-Gon wondered, remembering. He separated out his own feelings about the situation, and looked at them carefully. He had no objections to Obi-Wan Kenobi as a companion, and in fact, he was going to miss him terribly. The only problem was that if Obi-Wan chose to stay with him now, he could become trapped there without either of them realizing it.

...If Obi-Wan ~chose~...

The words repeated themselves, pointedly. He WAS still trying to be his teacher. What Obi-Wan did wasn't his decision anymore, and he owed it to the young Jedi to realize that. He ~could~ refuse to travel with Obi-Wan. It was his life too, after all... but his only objections were based in trying to protect the young man from making a mistake.

And that was no longer an adequate or appropriate reason. If Obi-Wan said he was ready to fight at Qui-Gon's side as an equal, perhaps he was. It was time to trust, and see what happened. The labyrinth of smoke trails in the air above the bowl smudged, then drifted up towards the ceiling in a confused cloud as the Jedi Master ended his trance.

TEA

The display screen brought up yet another file, coloring Obi-Wan's face with a pattern of uneven blue text. He shook his head. No, he knew that guy, and the thought of spending weeks -let alone months- together wasn't appealing. Obi-Wan reached out and tapped a key, paging down to the next file. The door chimed. Obi-Wan mentally reached through the door, and identified his visitor as Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan wondered what Qui-Gon could want with him at this hour, and his brain helpfully donated a few ideas. -None of which were likely to come true while he was awake. He sighed, cleared them out of his mind impatiently, then strode over and opened the door. Qui-Gon looked as if he had a story to tell. The fingers of his left hand curled around the edge of his dark brown outer cloak absently, and he smelled faintly of incense. As usual, the Jedi Master's eyes were intense and clear. None of which explained why he was here.

"Is anything wrong?" asked Obi-Wan.

"No... I've had time to think further on what you said to me this afternoon in the garden, and you were right. If you still wish to remain with me, I would be honored to have you." For a moment, Obi-Wan was ~sure~ he hadn't heard right. Then he was suppressing a grin, with almost complete success.

"That depends, are you always this fickle?"

"Only when I make a mistake in the first place."

"Well, there's a first time for everything..." said Obi-Wan, impishly.

[And this is hardly it] Returned Qui-Gon, with amusement. Obi-Wan's eyes became serious.

"Nevertheless, I accept." Something in Qui-Gon's face shifted subtly when he heard that. He wasn't sure what I would say, Obi-Wan realized.

"I'll inform the council in the morning." Qui-Gon nodded, graciously. There was a long pause, during which Obi-Wan didn't breathe much.

"What happens now, Qui-Gon?" he asked, carefully. The Jedi Master didn't quite blink, but the sudden use of his given name surprised him.

"That is up to you. What do you want this partnership to be?"

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at this, both mischief and insecurity hiding beneath it.

[Are you sure you mean that?] Obi-Wan let a shadow of desire accompany the question, so there could be no misunderstanding.

[Why shouldn't I?] Qui-Gon thought back. [I'm fully aware of what you ~may~ ask, and I trust you know your own limits.]

[And if I asked you to stay the night, would you wish that also?]

"Do I usually show up at people's doors in the middle of the night?" Retorted Qui-Gon. [And yes, I would.]

"Not to my knowledge." laughed Obi-Wan. "Come in."

The sound of his door swishing shut reminded Obi-Wan that he didn't entirely know what he was doing. How, after all, did one make love to a Jedi Master? It wasn't a challenge he'd ever been faced with before, and while he had many fantasies on the subject, most of them started after this awkward moment had passed. Some advice about using his instincts occurred to him, and he started talking. "I made tea earlier. Would you like some?"

"Yes. Thank you." Obi-Wan got the tea, which was mercifully still warm. Somehow the kitchen table didn't seem appropriate, so he retrieved a couple of cushions from his meditation corner, and gave one to Qui-Gon, sitting on the other one himself. Qui-Gon took this in stride, folding his long limbs into a cross-legged position on the cushion with the carefully practiced grace of one to whom it did not at first come naturally. They drank their tea, not touching, but no more than a foot apart from each other. The tea relaxed Obi-Wan somewhat, and he held the thick mug near his chin when he was not drinking out of it, letting the warm, fragrant steam curl over his face.

"I should take you to Dabiat four." Qui-Gon said, finally. Obi-Wan said nothing, but he studied Qui-Gon's face, listening. "Tea features in almost every aspect of their culture."

"What's the exception to the rule?"

"Peace negotiations. The idea is for the delegates to be uncomfortable enough to conclude their business expediently. Once the treaties are signed, the tea is of course, returned." Qui-Gon finished. Obi-Wan toasted his companion with his mug of tea, then drank. Qui-Gon experienced the sudden desire to be a tea mug. Obi-Wan started laughing, choked on his tea, and ended up spilling a fair amount down the front of his tunics before he managed to put the mug down.

"Interesting mental picture." He managed, finally.

[I thought so] Qui-Gon sent Obi-Wan an image of himself drinking the tea a few moments earlier. It was like looking in a time-delayed mirror, except that he noticed things he wouldn't have ordinarily, details that were suggested to his mind by Qui-Gon's perceptions. Like the way the steam had flowed up over his face like a physical touch, or the way the first thing he put on the tea mug was the tip of his tongue. He was... beautiful. The warm steam, or perhaps the circumstances, had added the shading of a slight flush to his skin, and the way his gray-green eyes became hooded in contemplation as he drank... Obi-Wan realized what it was like to be attracted to himself. Ordinarily, this would have been disconcerting, but when compared to the feeling of being attracted to a tea mug, it seemed surprisingly reasonable.

"A tea mug..." muttered Obi-Wan. He shook his head, then reached up to cup Qui-Gon's face in both of his own hands. The lightly-furred angles of Qui-Gon's jaw fit well into the palms of his hands, he noticed. He brought Qui-Gon's face to his own, and began a kiss the same way he'd drunk the tea, beginning with the tip of his tongue on Qui-Gon's lower lip.

~*~

When they parted, Obi-Wan took a deep breath, then let it out, feeling as if he'd just finished a particularly deep meditation. -Which in a way he had. His awareness had flowed into his face and hands like blood during that kiss, focusing him on it, and momentarily blocking out all else. Qui-Gon shook his head slightly, large hands resting on Obi-Wan's shoulders like a bookmark.

"Do one thing at a time." [Do you want to meditate, or continue?] Obi-Wan looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then placed both palms flat against Qui-Gon's chest, and pushed. Qui-Gon found himself on his back and slightly upside-down because he was still sitting on the cushion. Obi-Wan tried to follow him down for another kiss, but discovered that he couldn't reach higher than Qui-Gon's collarbone without kneeling on the man's folded legs, which would not be comfortable for either of them. Qui-Gon chuckled, realizing what the problem was, and untangled his legs, pulling Obi-Wan down on top of him as soon as he had done so. Obi-Wan nuzzled him under the chin, soft, spiky hair brushing Qui-Gon's cheek. The roughness of Qui-Gon's beard contrasted sharply with the soft skin of his neck, as both textures rubbed against Obi-Wan's face. Obi-Wan discovered that Qui-Gon was ticklish just under the corner of his jaw, and burrowed his nose into the newly discovered spot unmercifully. Qui-Gon tried to squirm away from the insistent torture without success, and rolled left, reversing their positions and holding Obi-Wan down at arm's length. Obi-Wan looked up at him, eyes wide but unafraid. It was Obi-Wan's turn to be kissed. Qui-Gon kissed like he gave massages: slowly, skillfully, and firmly. Obi-Wan's chest felt suddenly tight at the sensation. He smoothed Qui-Gon's hair back, then let it slip out through his fingers, and settle around his head like a curtain. A long swirl of it stuck on his own hair, and brushed his forehead lightly every time Qui-Gon moved. There were hands... brush of a thumb along his cheek, light pressure of a palm through the wet fabric of the front of his tunic, fingertips pushing his sleeve up to stroke the inside of his wrist. It was absolutely lovely, and it wasn't enough. He reached down and tugged Qui-Gon's tunics free of the belt that held them, then ran his palms up the other Jedi's back, reveling in the smooth, subtle texture. Qui-Gon Jinn was what he had made of himself, not merely what genetics had handed him. Scars crossed his back in places, pale lines softer than the unmarked skin around them, and each one held a story. His frame was lean, and deceptively strong. Only his skin seemed to feel his age, fitting around him with all the comfort of an old tunic that one is unwilling to part with as long as it is still serviceable. Obi-Wan pulled him closer.

[What about ~your~ tunic?]

[It's still wet.] Obi-Wan thought back.

[Then take it off.] Qui-Gon moved off of him and stood up, then watched, arms folded. The Jedi Master didn't seem to notice the state of his own clothes, which included the layers of his tunic hanging half off of one shoulder. Obi-Wan thought it looked terribly sexy. Qui-Gon glanced down at his tunic, then back at Obi-Wan, an almost self-conscious gesture.

"Thank you." [About that tunic...]

"You first." smiled Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon's eyebrows lifted thoughtfully as he considered his next move. This wasn't a challenge he was often given.

Obi-Wan was leaning back on his elbows, clothes rumpled and stained with tea, eyes watching him attentively. Attentively, but not as though he couldn't look away if he chose, Qui-Gon noted with approval. Very well... one challenge deserved another. Qui-Gon caught the young knight's eyes, held them, then turned his head to the side, letting the fall of his salt-and-pepper hair slide silently over his uncovered shoulder. He let the turn follow into a circle, stretching out the muscles of his neck as if he was cooling down from a training exercise. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, brought his hands up to his face, stroked them over his hair, and untied the band that was holding it in check. Another stretch followed, hands reaching high over his head, fingers linked. His hands separated, then slowly traced a mirrored pair of half circles in the air on each side of him before coming to rest at his sides. Soon they were moving again, this time pushing the rest of his tunic off of his shoulders.

Obi-Wan reached out with a hand that couldn't be seen, and fingered the edge of the tunic as it was removed. The undyed fabric felt rough and substantial, coarsely woven without being scratchy. It's energy was clean and warm. Obi-Wan shifted his touch to the angle of Qui-Gon's neck and shoulder, as the tunic dropped to the floor. His real hand was upraised towards Qui-Gon, casting the force-hand like a shadow. Qui-Gon felt the contact begin on his chest now, the imprint of fingers and palm plainly indented on the surface of his skin. He opened his eyes, then reached up with one of his own hands and covered the imprint Obi-Wan's hand. The shaped impressions on his skin did not fade as he touched them, but felt as if they belonged there, like a long-healed scar. Qui-Gon touched the indented pattern with the tips of his fingers, fascinated. Obi-Wan's hand was smaller than his own, and the knight's force-touch reflected that. Qui-Gon felt the skin ripple under his fingers, as Obi-Wan's touch moved left and down. An invisible thumb brushed one of his nipples, turning it momentarily concave.

He savored the sensation, focusing on it completely for as long as it lasted. When it ended, he opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan's brow was slightly furrowed, his attention divided between maintaining the force-hand and the feel of Qui-Gon's chest under his fingers. Qui-Gon dropped to one knee, moving slowly enough to not dislodge Obi-Wan's force-touch, and unbuckled one of his boots. He pulled it off and set it aside, then dealt with his other one. As he stood, Obi-Wan's fingers brushed his side, ghosting across his flank in a way that made breathing evenly a challenge. Qui-Gon reached down with one of his own real hands, and added energy to Obi-Wan's construct until he could take hold of it. He laced his fingers with Obi-Wan's invisible ones, then drew the hand up to his lips, and kissed the back of it. Obi-Wan was startled. With Qui-Gon maintaining the force-hand, the physical sensations washed back onto him unimpeded. He realized that the force was acting as a barrier, demanding that one of them let the pleasure simply pass through him rather than really experiencing it. That definitely would not do. Obi-Wan stood up and crossed to Qui-Gon, matching his real hand to his force-hand by slipping his hand into Qui-Gon's. Qui-Gon allowed the force-hand to dissolve, looking into Obi-Wan's eyes as he did so, and then it was all real. Obi-Wan understood. Use of the force wasn't needed here.

One end of Qui-Gon's mustache quirked upwards, but he said nothing.

Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan lightly, one hand cupping the base of the young man's skull. He felt fingers at his waist, releasing his pants and equipment belt. His light saber made a muffled clunk as it landed in several layers of brown fabric. Qui-Gon broke the kiss, and stroked the side of Obi-Wan's face with the backs of his fingers. It felt soft, scratchy, warm. Qui-Gon ran his hands over Obi-Wan's shoulders, then hooked his thumbs under the right and left edges of Obi-Wan's tunic collar, and peeled it off of him.

[That's better.]

[Much.] agreed Obi-Wan, and began taking off the rest of his clothes. Where Obi-Wan had been content to touch from a distance, Qui-Gon used his hands. Hands could see so much more of the important things. The pale cloth of Obi-Wan's pants had an uncomplicated, warm resonance, the equipment belt a harder, more utilitarian one. The light saber at Obi-Wan's side shone like beacon, a nexus of thin, bright, refracted lines. As each item fell away, Obi-Wan himself could be felt more clearly, and to Qui-Gon's closed eyes, he shone like glare ice... and he was warm. Pockets of heat were folded into the angles of Obi-Wan's body, waiting like secrets. They hid beneath his arms, on the palms of his loosely curled hands, in the gentle hollow of his lower back. Qui-Gon mapped them all, long fingers exploring the turns and boundaries of each one. When the last of Obi-Wan's clothes had joined those already on the floor, he brought his arms around Qui-Gon's waist, and tucked his head beneath the taller man's chin. Obi-Wan's short hair felt prickly. Qui-Gon stroked the side of the young knight's neck with his thumb, fingers curled around the back of his neck. Obi-Wan nuzzled his shoulder, and then with no warning, licked him. Qui-Gon paused, surprised. Obi-Wan licked him again, with gleeful abandon, this time just below his collarbone. Qui-Gon chuckled to himself, and rubbed his cheek on Obi-Wan's hair. It didn't feel so prickly through his beard.

Discovery

WhackwhackwhackwhackwhackwhackwhackwhackwhackWHACK!

The sudden noise yanked Obi-Wan out of sleep, and he sat up, clumsy in the semi-darkness of early morning. Qui-Gon woke up at this sudden movement, and put a hand on his arm, eyeing him with concern.

[What's wrong?] he thought. Obi-Wan cleared the fog of sleep from his mind, and asked, "Did you hear that?"

"What?" began Qui-Gon. -Then he recognized the presence outside the door, and muttered "Oh, no..."

"Open this door you will!" Yoda demanded, hitting it several more times with his walking stick. Obi-Wan checked the chrono on the wall, and found that it was still an hour before sunrise.

"What the-?" The rapping on the door began again, insistently.

"I'd answer the door if I were you." Qui-Gon advised. Obi-Wan looked from Qui-Gon to the door, and called,

"Coming!" the rapping continued for a moment, then stopped, leaving an ominous silence. Obi-Wan got up, located a cloak on the floor, and wrapped it around himself hastily before opening the door. Yoda stood in the warm yellow light of the hallway, looking up at Obi-Wan imperiously. His ears lay almost horizontal with annoyance.

"Hmph." Yoda tapped past Obi-Wan into the apartment, and Obi-Wan followed him inside, shutting the door. He didn't know what was about to happen, but he was positive he didn't want his neighbors witnessing it. Yoda turned on the lights with a wave of his three-fingered hand, and surveyed the scene. Obi-Wan was standing against the door, thoroughly confused. A scattering of tan and brown Jedi clothing littered the floor, along with two tea mugs. Qui-Gon was sitting in a pile of blankets over in the meditation corner, looking very serious for someone who was wearing a sheet across his lap, and nothing else.

"Hmph." repeated Yoda.

"Master Yoda, is there a problem?" asked Qui-Gon, still perfectly serious. Yoda sighed, then turned to Obi-Wan.

"Work, your shields need." he declared. Turning back to Qui-Gon, he added, "And help, you did not."

Obi-Wan mentally checked his shields, and discovered that somewhere during the course of the night's activities, he'd forgotten to maintain the shield against projecting his emotions. Blushing profusely, he snapped it back into place. It could have been worse... he could have forgotten about the shield around his conscious thoughts. -If he'd done that, every Jedi in the temple would know who'd caused the disturbance. Shuddering at the thought, Obi-Wan turned his attention back to Yoda.

"My apologies, Master Yoda."

"Yes! To me you SHOULD apologize. And not the only one you disturbed, am I!"

"But how did you know who-" began Obi-Wan.

"Blind I am not." Yoda snorted. "And long have I watched Jedi. Not for nothing, on the council do I sit."

-end-