Master Apprentice  Archive The Master's Musings - 2002-09-06 -
Perfectly Imperfect |
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Archive: MA, any others just ask, I probably won't say no
My Home Page: http://www.jediphiles.com/~mali
Rating: PG?
Pairing: Q/O
Category: PWP
Feedback: Good, bad or indifferent
Disclaimers: Not mine, wish they were, have no money, please don't sue.
I've never given much thought to what would make the perfect mate. At least not until Obi-Wan and I became lovers. Having him in my bed, by my side, in my heart and underfoot has made it quite impossible for me, on occasion, NOT to think about the qualities of the perfect lover.
Obi-Wan is not the perfect lover.
No matter how often I remind him to re-cap the water in the fridger-unit after pouring himself a drink, I will, invariably, find the cap on the counter the next time I go into the kitchen. Which, of course, means the bottle is in the fridger-unit, open and collecting the various odors and tastes from other foodstuff it shares space with. Here is a man who knows the name of every engine part to the most complicated of spacecraft, and yet he can't remember to replace a cap on the water.
I don't consider myself overly fastidious about the cleanliness of our quarters. We keep the place fairly neat, and the Temple house-staff comes once a week to vacuum, change the air vents, collect the dirty laundry, etc. And I'll be the first to admit my guilt when it comes to leaving my boots, belt, sash and outer-tunic wherever I take them off. But for some reason, a messy fresher nearly drives me insane. I'm not referring to leaving bath sheets lying about -- I do that as well. Before retiring for the evening, one or the other of us will gather them up, along with whatever other soiled clothing is scattered throughout our rooms and put them in the laundry chute. It's the way Obi-Wan leaves the fresher counter that puts me off. Anything he's used, be it toothpaste, a razor, a comb, the soap or whatever, will be left, willy-nilly, all over the counter. I've told him time and again that it takes but a second to put something back in its proper place, but again, there seems to be a problem with his memory when it comes to that.
Obi-Wan's toenails are hard and sharp, and they grow amazingly fast. Since neither of us seems to be able sleep well unless we are tangled within each other's arms and legs, I am constantly wearing the marks of his untrimmed nails all over my calves and shins.
He also has unbelievably cold feet.
He makes me sleep in the wet spot.
He insists I sleep with my hair down, because he likes it. It doesn't matter that it is constantly getting tangled in his fingers or caught under his arm while we sleep.
He has horrible taste in music.
He teases me mercilessly about my affinity for all living things.
He slurps loudly when eating soups or stews.
He likes to snack in bed and doesn't ever seem to be bothered by the crumbs. I, on the other hand, can find the single toast crumb in our bed with my hip, and though it might be minute in size, it will soon begin to feel as if I am lying on a jagged rock.
He's becoming quite the sabersman, and I have to work harder and harder each time we spar to keep up with him. He beats me about half the time now, and finds great enjoyment in doing so.
He flirts outrageously with every sentient creature he comes in contact with, though I must admit, I doubt he even realizes that he's doing it, for the most part.
I could go on, but it really isn't necessary. Truth be told, I know I'm not anything near the perfect lover for him either.
It doesn't matter in the end.
I don't need the perfect lover, for we share the perfect love. And I thank the Force every day for such a perfect gift.
End