Message from the Force

by Ula Luva

Title: Message from the Force
Author: Ula Luva
Rating: R
Categories: Q/O, Humor
Archive: M_A and the Fic-A-Thon page
Feedback: Yes, please!
Spoilers/Warnings: None

Disclaimers: Lucas provided the characters. The challenge provided the plot. No one provides any money, but I hope you like it a lot.

Summary: Fic-A-Thon challenge #46: "Interruptions - Take one romantic evening where one of our intrepid heroes want to tell the other how they really feel, but they keep getting interrupted."

Author's Notes: Special thanks to Jedi Rita and Emma Grant for organizing the Fic-A-Thon and to the person who submitted challenge #46!

Big thanks and hugs to Master Rose, LindaJ and (especially!) Christina for their beta help and encouragement.

"We hardly see each other any more, Obi-Wan. Let's go out and do something fun tonight! If Garen is back, we'll drag him along too."

It was hard for Obi-Wan to think of Bant as a knight. She remained as vivacious and enthusiastic as she'd been as a padawan.

"Not tonight," Obi-Wan replied, pausing to wash down his first bite of sandwich with a sip of garberry juice. "Garen is still off-planet, but Qui-Gon just got back and I already invited him to my quarters for dinner."

"Oh, you and Qui-Gon!" Bant speared a jellied algae block with her fork. "You always go on about him but you never do anything about it," she lectured, wagging her fork in Obi-Wan's face.

"Well, maybe I plan on changing that."

"Don't you tease me, Knight Kenobi!" She continued to emphasize her words with her fork. Obi-Wan discretely stabilized the wobbling block with a touch of Force. "Ever since I found out you were in love with your master years ago, I haven't had another single tidbit from you. Now I have to stay home alone tonight because you're going to torture yourself again."

Bant shoved the algae block in her mouth and chewed savagely on it. Obi-Wan reflected that a pouting Calamarian was not a pretty sight.

"Listen, Bant. I know I've never managed to tell him before; it never seemed like the right time. But today the Force has been nudging me about Qui-Gon. I know the timing is right."

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me that the Force is telling you to propose to Qui-Gon Jinn tonight? Why can't you be like anyone else? You like someone; you ask them out. It's simple."

"Because he's my master! Or he was, at any rate, until last year. You know full well I couldn't say anything until I was knighted. And since then, we haven't spent much time together."

"Oh, that explains it!" Bant exclaimed, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "It takes so much time to say three words. It does if your name is Obi-Wan Kenobi!"

"Just you wait. Tonight's the night. I'm going to tell him right after dinner."

"Hmmph!" Bant snorted. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Dinner was delicious, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon commented as he stood and picked up the bowl of quintel.

Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet. "Leave the dishes, Master; I'll clean up later."

"Nonsense, Obi-Wan. You're not a padawan anymore." Qui-Gon left no room for argument. "Besides," he added warmly, "I always enjoy working with you, even if it's just clearing the dishes."

Obi-Wan avidly digested every word and nuance of that pronouncement. It boded well. Very well, indeed.

Qui-Gon stepped to Obi-Wan's side and reached across him for the platter of nerf, counterbalancing himself with the bowl in his left hand behind Obi-Wan's back. So close, Qui-Gon's presence almost overwhelmed him.

It felt like an embrace, and as Qui-Gon leaned forward his hair brushed Obi-Wan's cheek. That accidental caress sent a tremor down Obi-Wan's spine, and as his master straightened back up he almost acted on impulse... almost ended his painful anticipation with a sudden kiss.

But he didn't. The thought of ending up with a lapful of nerf froze him in place. He'd wait until the table was cleared.

He collected the soiled plates and utensils and followed his master into the kitchen, where they efficiently put away the leftovers and stowed the dishes in the cleanser.

"Would you like tea, Master?" Obi-Wan inquired, resting his hand on the kettle.

"Yes, thank you. But I think I'd like to have another glass of wine first. I feel like really indulging myself tonight."

"By all means, do," Obi-Wan urged him sincerely, filling the kettle and setting it on high.

Returning to the common room, Obi-Wan snagged the wine in one hand and both their glasses in the other. He placed them on the low table in front of the couch and topped them off. Willing his hand not to shake, he passed Qui-Gon his glass.

Obi-Wan sat on the couch, not very far off-center. Qui-Gon mirrored his action, with the result that their neighboring thighs were pressed rather tightly together.

Qui-Gon raised his glass. "Here's to Knight Kenobi, the finest new knight in the Jedi Order. Congratulations, Obi-Wan, on another successful mission!"

Their rims touched with a musical ting and they both took a quick sip.

Looking straight into Qui-Gon's eyes, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and made the plunge.

"And here's to Knight Kenobi's master, the man who taught him everything. The man he most admires. The man who inspires him on his missions. The man he truly... "

Tweeeeeee...!

Arrrg! What timing! Obi-Wan almost groaned aloud but instead he said, "Excuse me," and went into the kitchen. He selected a large pot, lifted the whistling kettle off the heater, and started steeping the tea.

While he was there, he checked the remaining time on the chocolate-brandy torte. Only a few minutes. He flicked off the timer, unwilling to risk being interrupted again at the critical moment.

He resumed his seat as quickly as possible and re-raised his glass. "As I was saying, here's to Knight Kenobi's master, the man who taught him everything. The man he most admires. The man who inspires him on his missions. The man he truly... "

Brrriiiiiing!

This time, Obi-Wan did moan as they both glanced at the comm unit on his belt.

The moment was ruined. Again. He might as well take this call now; it might be important... maybe even from the council... and he didn't want thoughts of who it might be distracting either of them.

Sighing, he looked apologetically at Qui-Gon and announced, "Kenobi..." into his palm unit.

"Well? How'd it go? What happened?" Bant enthused in his ear.

"You called to ask me that? Now? I think we need to have a little chat about your timing!"

"Oh, Obi, don't tell me I... you dope! There is a reason for the off button, you know. You should be smart enough to use it!"

"I'll do that. Kenobi out!" he huffed, punching the off button as he reseated the unit on his belt.

Qui-Gon's arched brow asked a mute question.

"I'll, ummm, send her the recipe for my chocolate-brandy torte later," Obi-Wan temporized, figuring he would do just that and leave her hanging, no matter what happened between him and Qui-Gon in the next few minutes. It would serve her right.

"Aren't Calamarians allergic to chocolate?" Qui-Gon asked. "Makes them break out in purple hives, if I recall correctly."

"Maybe she wants to make it for someone else," Obi-Wan suggested.

"She must also want to practice her Force manipulation skills, since it's a contact allergen," Qui-Gon appeared to muse, stroking his bearded chin.

"Good one! I mean, that must be it. Now, where was I?"

"Why don't you start at the top?" Qui-Gon suggested. "I liked what I was hearing."

Capturing Qui-Gon's gaze with his own, Obi-Wan repeated, "And here's to Knight Kenobi's master, the man who taught him everything. The man he most admires. The man who inspires him on his missions. The man he truly... "

Bing-Bong!

"I don't believe it!" Obi-Wan blurted out.

"Would you like me to answer it?" Qui-Gon asked politely, looking towards the door.

"No. I'll kill, I mean, I'll see whoever it is myself," Obi-Wan grumbled as he set his drink down and rose to his feet. If it was Bant, Obi-Wan decided he would force-feed her a large serving of his torte.

"That will be eighteen-thirty-eight," the little R4 delivery droid announced, shoving a flatbread box into his abdomen.

"That's not mine," Obi-Wan stated decisively and moved back to shut the door.

The droid slid its tread into the doorway, preventing it from closing.

"I'm sorry, sir. This is your order. The address is right here. Knight's Unit #1661, Jedi Housing Complex."

Glancing at the order slip, Obi-Wan realized the droid was reading it upside down. Unit 1991 was Reeft's. It must be an after-dinner snack.

"You've made a mistake; you should take this to Unit number 1991," Obi-Wan explained, flipping the order slip around.

"I'm sorry, sir," the droid insisted. "If the occupant of Unit 1991 wants a flatbread, he'll have to order it himself."

"But this isn't mine! Oh, never mind!" Obi-Wan dug through his money pouch, finding only a ten, a five, two ones and a fifty. He handed the droid the fifty.

The droid relinquished the flatbread and said, "I'm sorry, sir. I don't have sufficient change with me. I'll have to return with it later."

"NO!! Keep the change!" Obi-Wan gestured it away with his free hand.

The droid withdrew, managing a "Thank yo-" before he was cut off by the door sliding shut.

Obi-Wan placed the expensive flatbread on the dining table. Well, he'd gladly have paid every credit in his name to get rid of that droid.

And maybe this mistake was for the best. If things went the way he hoped, he and Qui-Gon could split it for breakfast. Or, lunch, more likely, since they'd probably sleep past noon after the workout he was hoping for. Flatbread would really hit the spot then.

Obi-Wan peeked inside the container. Rats! No cherfruit. Too bad it didn't happen to come with the one topping both he and Qui-Gon loved.

Obi-Wan felt the Force pressing against him, telling him something was about to happen. Fourth time's a charm, Obi-Wan reassured himself.

He strode to the couch, and still standing, lifted his glass and intoned quickly, "And here's to Knight Kenobi's master, the man who taught him everything. The man he most admires. The man who inspires him on his missions. The man he truly... "

SCREEEEEEEE...!

"Force!!!" Obi-Wan yelled over the continuing screech of the smoke detector. While the burning smell was very faint, he would have noticed it if he hadn't been distracted.

As Obi-Wan raced to the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of Qui-Gon clasping his middle and doubling over on the couch.

He skidded to a halt in front of the oven and pulled open the door. As the wave of fresh air hit the overheated alcohol, it ignited and thick smoke poured out, choking Obi-Wan and filling the kitchen.

Obi-Wan kept his head and used a pot holder to pull out the rack, then snuffed the flames with a kitchen towel. He cranked all the vents on high then turned his attention to the smoke detector.

He couldn't find a way to suppress the alarm and decided it probably wouldn't shut off until the smoke completely cleared, maybe in a half hour if he was lucky. Qui-Gon poked his head in the doorway just in time to see Obi-Wan thrust his lit saber into the screeching mechanism, silencing it with a satisfying sizzle.

Obi-Wan deactivated his saber, reattached it to his belt, and announced brightly, "Tea's ready!"

"Ah!" Qui-Gon replied as if that explained the chaotic scene. "I'd still like to finish our toasts first."

Despite everything, Qui-Gon still wanted to hear what he had to say. Obi-Wan's eyes watered, not just from the smoke.

He followed his former master back to the couch but neither man sat. Instead of picking up his glass, he took Qui-Gon's right hand in both of his.

"Master, I'm so sorry about all this. I wanted everything to be perfect, but I can't wait any longer. Forget the toast, I just wanted to tell you that I..."

Bing-Bong!

"SITH!!! Who the frack is it this time?" Obi-Wan stormed to the door and it opened, revealing an R7 tech droid.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but central control has just received an indication of a failed smoke detector in this unit. I'm here to fix it."

"Oh. Ummm, yes. It... melted. I'm afraid it can't be fixed."

"That's unfortunate, sir. I'll have to see if there's a replacement unit in stock." The droid trundled over to the console adjacent to the door and plugged its comm arm into the interface.

As the droid plugged into the console, a shower of sparks erupted and the door started cycling open and closed.

"There seems to be a very bad short somewhere in the circuitry of this apartment. I'll have to arrange for a team to come in and track it down."

"NO!!! Look... I'm sure it's the smoke detector. Why don't you... "

"That will be eighteen-thirty-eight," the little R4 delivery droid entered as the door cycled open, shoving another flatbread box at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan glanced at the delivery slip. Sure enough, it was for Unit 1991 again. He emptied his money pouch and thrust it all at the droid.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you still owe me one-thirty-eight."

"But I gave you fifty last time. Use some of that!"

"I can't, sir. That money is my master's now. I'd have to comm him."

"You do that," Obi-Wan said grimly. "I have a message for him."

The delivery droid turned to the comm panel, saw the tech droid using the interface, and jabbered electronically at it. The R7 unit didn't budge, and rebutted in the same language. As their interchange reached a fevered pitch of whistles and beeps, Reeft stepped through the door when it once again cycled open.

"Something's burning. Do I smell flatbread? I've been trying to get some all night. Hi, Master Jinn! Hey, Obi-Wan, I was just on my way to see if I could sneak into the refectory... how come you can get flatbread but I can't?"

"You wouldn't happen to have two credits?"

"Sorry," he said patting his belt. "I don't have anything on me."

Obi-Wan surveyed Reeft, the squabbling droids, and his door, continuing to open and shut. Obi-Wan sighed, waved at the flatbread on the table and told Reeft, "Help yourself."

"Thanks!" Reeft replied enthusiastically. He pounced on the box and tucked in without bothering to sit down.

Obi-Wan turned back to the droids but before he could say anything, Garen, with a pack on his shoulder, stepped through during another open phase.

"Hey, Obi... what's up? I was heading to my quarters but I could hear the ruckus here from the E wing. Not to mention the smell. Hi, Reeft! Oh, Hi, Master Jinn. Oooh... flatbread! I'm so hungry I could eat a bantha!"

"Dig in," Obi-Wan waved Garen to the table.

"There's only one piece left! What about the other box?" Garen nodded in the direction of the R4 as he started in on the last slice.

"Do you have two credits?"

"Not me," Garen said between bites. "I'm broke."

Obi-Wan turned once again to the droids, just as Bant stepped inside, a look of astonishment on her face.

"Why are Garen and Reeft here eating flatbread?"

"They're hungry. Do you have two credits on you?"

"Smallest I have on me is a fifty. Why do you want two credits?"

"To pay for this flatbread."

"Why did you order flatbread if you couldn't pay for it? Why did you order flatbread at all? You said you wanted to be alone with your master tonight. Why are Garen and Reeft here? You said Garen was off on a mission. What's that smell? Why haven't you told me anything? I tried comming you. Why didn't you invite me to your flatbread party?" Bant's voice had begun to waver by the end of her tirade and Obi-Wan knew he had a pouty Calamarian on his hands.

Obi-Wan felt the way Bant's voice sounded. Why had this all happened? If the Force didn't intend to let him propose, why had it sent him such strong signals? Was he the butt of some cosmic joke?

Before he could take that train of thought any further, Qui-Gon stepped next to him, exuding calm from every pore of his masterly physique. He turned to Bant.

"Bant, Obi-Wan couldn't invite you here. He just burned some chocolate and it's possible there's still some particulates in the air that you could breathe in."

Bant turned purple under the gills and immediately retreated, calling over her shoulder, "Good night everyone. I'll see you tomorrow, Obi-Wan!"

Qui-Gon turned to the R4 droid and handed it a five. "Keep the change, but please deliver this flatbread to Unit 1991 on your way out."

"Certainly, sir. Thank you, sir," the droid withdrew quickly.

"That's my unit!" Reeft exclaimed.

"Thanks, Master Jinn. Bye!" Garen waved at everyone in general and took off in pursuit of the flatbread followed closely by Reeft.

Qui-Gon approached the R7 droid and waved his hand in front of it. "There is nothing wrong in this apartment. You will go back to your station."

The droid withdrew from the comm plug, parroting, "There is nothing wrong in this apartment. I will go back to my station," and left. The door stayed shut.

"I didn't know Force compulsions worked on droids," Obi-Wan commented.

"They do in this fic," Qui-Gon retorted.

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at his master but Qui-Gon pressed on. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I should have stepped in earlier, but I was enjoying watching you in action. You handled yourself very well, under the circumstances. I can see you are quite capable of handling difficult situations."

Obi-Wan reflected a little sourly that he hadn't managed to empty his own apartment of the audience that had gathered there. But maybe Qui-Gon had salvaged the situation for him. He'd give it one last try. He captured Qui-Gon's gaze again.

"Master, the Force has been telling me all day that something important would happen between us tonight - it must finally be the right time for me to tell you that I... mph!"

Obi-Wan stared in shock at Qui-Gon, who had placed a hand firmly over his mouth. Surely Qui-Gon knew what he'd been going to say. Why had he stopped him?

"Listen to me," Qui-Gon ordered.

At a slight nod, Qui-Gon released Obi-Wan's mouth, but took his right hand and pressed it warmly.

"You're not the only one the Force has been goading today. I hate being told what to do, especially in something as important as this. But it is time, past time, Obi-Wan, that I told you I love you."

Qui-Gon had said it! Just like that! And suddenly Obi-Wan knew that was what the Force had been telling him today. It had been time for Qui-Gon to confess his love for him!

"Oh, Force! I love you too!" Obi-Wan barely finished his declaration before he smashed their mouths together in a violent kiss. It was right; it felt so right, and he wasn't even embarrassed that he was whimpering, since, after all, Qui-Gon was too.

His hands started acting on their own, burying themselves in his master's rich fall of hair possessively. He pressed his body against Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon pressed back while his large hands meandered down to Obi-Wan's bottom.

Obi-Wan wanted to stop thinking, and certainly wasn't interested in talking at the moment, but there was one more thing he had to say, and he was going to say it now. He broke the kiss and gasped, "Master, the next time the Force tells you to do something, just do it!"

"Ah," said Qui-Gon. "In that case, let's go to the bedroom."

"I don't think that's from the Force, Master," Obi-Wan laughed. "But I'm getting the same message. Let's go," he added, pulling Qui-Gon by the arm in the direction of the bedroom. This time they both complied enthusiastically with the directive, whatever its source.

It was well past noon the following day when Reeft answered the door chime and a familiar-looking R4 delivery droid announced, "That will be eighteen-thirty-eight."

Funny. He hadn't ordered a flatbread, though he was feeling peckish after that skimpy lunch in the refectory. But what was that smell? Who in their right mind would order cherfruit on a flatbread? Well, luckily, he could just pick it off.

Reeft wondered briefly if whoever had ordered the flatbread would miss it, but his stomach rumbled and he felt simply starving now. Oh, well, this must be a message from the Force for him, he thought philosophically, as he handed the droid a twenty.