Master Apprentice
Archive
My Place or Yours?
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Shielding himself, Qui-Gon pressed the call button with his elbow. When Obi-Wan didn't respond, he smiled and called out "Open." The door slid out of his way, allowing him to carry the two large bags of supplies inside. He had once told Obi-Wan he had no intention of ever locking him out of the quarters they had shared. Obi-Wan had reciprocated by keying the door of his knight's quarters to Qui-Gon's voice print.
That privilege had remained untested, but today was a special occasion. It was the first anniversary of Obi-Wan's knighting. At Obi-Wan's insistence, the ceremony had been held in the healer's chamber where he lay recovering from the Sith's blade. He winced slightly as he put the two bags down on the counter. The scar tissue had not healed properly... and probably never would. He was lucky to be alive at all.
Though he was tempted, Qui-Gon refrained from accessing their bond to find out what Obi-Wan was doing just then. That would alert Obi-Wan to his presence and the surprise would be ruined. Obi-Wan thought he was still on Tarbin, negotiating a trade treaty between its indigent race and a humanoid settlement on a nearby planet. With only the lightest of Force nudges, Qui-Gon had been able to get the Tarbins to appreciate the benefits of the settlers. As a result, he had been able to wrap up the negotiations before the expected completion date.
After stripping off his robe, he threw it over the back of a chair. Then he rolled up his tunic sleeves and washed his hands. If he didn't get started now, he might not have enough time before Obi-Wan got home.
The datapad displaying the paste marinade recipe fit nicely in the corner near the heating unit. Obi-Wan already had most of the relevant ingredients on hand, as Qui-Gon had known he would. After collecting those bottles and jars together, he started mincing the fresh herbs he had purchased.
Qui-Gon remembered the first time they had eaten Urranian Nerf. He and Obi-Wan had been sent to Urran to support that planet's bid for independence from its stronger neighbor. They had just spent several grueling tens in the field alternately fighting and negotiating. Eating had not been a priority for them, particularly the last few critical days. The subsequent feast in their honor featured the planet's specialty. Qui-Gon was sure Jedi were now renowned on Urran as powerful warriors, talented negotiators, and insatiable gluttons. This dish remained special for both of them and he was looking forward to sharing it.
As soon as he'd returned from Tarbin, he had commed Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's message telling all callers that he was on-mission had crushed his hope that they would celebrate this anniversary together.
Qui-Gon had known that was a risk. He figured Obi-Wan was still on Dubon with Knight Es-Prit'Pur, shutting down a smuggling ring. Obi-Wan had been looking forward to that mission. His former padawan seemed to enjoy pitting himself against the likes of smugglers, pirates, and slavers. Of course, there was no way to predict how long a mission of that sort would last.
After adding the last of the spices, he slathered the meat with the paste then started rubbing it in with his hands. If he worked it in well enough, the roast would melt in their mouths, leaving behind that distinctive spicy smoked flavor. Accordingly, he massaged the flesh deeply, as if addressing a particularly tenacious cramp in his padawan's thigh.
As it turned out, the mission had already been completed by then and Obi-Wan arrived home soon after. Qui-Gon found out at midmeal when he sat down in the refectory with Mace and the council member mentioned that Obi-Wan had just reported back in at the temple.
Qui-Gon was ready to abandon both Mace and his own bowl of Naboo noodles in order to be with Obi-Wan. But an instant before he reached out in the bond to locate his former padawan, he hatched the idea of surprising Obi-Wan with this meal. The only part missing from his plan was how to keep Obi-Wan out of his own quarters while the secret preparations were underway. When Mace had commented on how distracted he seemed, he had taken his friend into his confidence. Mace had obliged by promising to assign the young knight some task that would take up most of the afternoon.
After washing his hands again, Qui-Gon put the nerf in the cooler. Then he started peeling the long, thick yur root and the stubby, round tatacans. Obi-Wan thought their flavors complemented each other. Qui-Gon noted that the combination also had visual appeal.
It would work out fine if Obi-Wan came home now. Qui-Gon would press a glass of wine into his hand and tell him to relax until dinner was ready. But Obi-Wan would insist on helping; that was just the way he was. Qui-Gon supposed he would let Obi-Wan set the table. While Obi-Wan was doing that, he could relate stories about his latest mission. Qui-Gon always relished hearing them, whether they were exciting or funny or even poignant.
The vegetables needed to be sauteed quickly at high heat so that the yur root wouldn't overcook. Obi-Wan would be disappointed if it were mushy and Qui-Gon wanted everything to be perfect tonight.
Obi-Wan's knighthood was an achievement worth commemorating for both of them. More importantly, tonight was the night he planned on finally letting Obi-Wan know how he felt about him.
He put a double measure of quintel in a large pan. Sifting the grain through his fingers, he searched for any chaff. The repetitive motion was calming, almost meditative. The falling kernels reminded him of the sand inside the hour glasses he had encountered on several planets. They were ridiculously archaic, but perhaps that was part of their appeal.
Finding no impurities, he added the water, put the pot on the back element, and turned the heat on high.
The long year of waiting was finally over. It had actually been several years since Qui-Gon had conceded to himself that he truly loved Obi-Wan, but he had never considered acting on it during the apprenticeship. Even after Obi-Wan was knighted, it still hadn't felt right. He felt he owed Obi-Wan the opportunity to prove himself on his own in the field. And now Obi-Wan had certainly done that.
Qui-Gon was sure Obi-Wan loved him. There was no denying the love that flooded the bond when they reunited after separate missions. He was even sure that Obi-Wan desired him, though that was less obvious. There hadn't been any lust leaking through the bond, at least not in recent years. But there were any number of times when Obi-Wan had been shielded for no apparent reason. And on those occasions, his body language had sometimes been as eloquent as their bond.
The Garberry Mousse was the only dish left to prepare. It was easy enough to make. The trick was getting the fresh garberries and Qui-Gon had made a special trip to a produce importer to find them. With so little left to do, he whipped the frothy concoction with a wisk instead of a beater just to keep busy.
He basted the meat again... washed the dishes by hand... cleaned up the kitchen... set the table... basted the meat again... and refolded the napkins into Wyrran cranes.
When the time for latemeal had clearly passed, Qui-Gon was rueful. That was the problem with surprises. He was the one being surprised. Obi-Wan rarely ate latemeal in the refectory. But maybe he had taken so long finishing Mace's task that he had gotten hungry. Then he wouldn't want to return to his quarters and spend time preparing the meal. That made sense. After all, there had been plenty of room in the near-empty cooler. Obi-Wan hadn't even had a chance to restock.
He removed the nerf and side dishes from the warming compartment and put them in the cooler. They would taste almost as good for latemeal tomorrow. In the meantime, Obi-Wan always had room for Garberry Mousse. He would share the dessert with him whenever he came home and then make his admission. On second thought, he resolved to tell him first. Obi-Wan might savor creative new uses for his old favorite.
Meditation would be a good way to pass the time until Obi-Wan returned. After arranging himself in the middle of the common room, Qui-Gon slipped into a light trance. When his usual bed time drew near, Qui-Gon surfaced on his own. Much to his disappointment, he hadn't been interrupted by Obi-Wan's arrival.
Maybe Obi-Wan had gone out clubbing to celebrate his anniversary with some of his friends. Even so, he shouldn't be out much longer. Qui-Gon was sure he wouldn't have gone out all if he had known his former master wasn't off-planet.
With a slight sigh, Qui-Gon returned to his light meditation.
It was early morning on the day after Obi-Wan's anniversary of knighthood when Qui-Gon finally capitulated. All the clubs were closed by then. Obi-Wan remained conspicuously absent. Qui-Gon knew nothing terrible had happened to his former padawan. Although the bond was still shielded, he was sure he would have felt something.
Qui-Gon rose and paced his way into the kitchen. He began putting away the utensils and pans he had left to dry on a rack.
Maybe Obi-Wan had gone home with one of his friends. Qui-Gon felt a pang of concern as he imagined him, perhaps having indulged a little more than was prudent, returning to some other knight's quarters. Would Obi-Wan do something he would later regret?
As this thought struck him, Qui-Gon froze in the act of putting a baster away. His hand clenched on the bulb, forcing out a fine spray of water that hadn't dried on the inside. Taken aback by the imagery, he thrust the baster into the drawer and quickly shut it out of sight.
Just how well had Obi-Wan gotten to know Knight Es-Prit'Pur on this last mission? Es-Prit'Pur had a classically handsome face and polished manners. Rather than focus on diplomatic conquests, he used his vid-star features to cut a swath through the available knights. Obi-Wan remained as an obvious target.
Qui-Gon plunged each of the knives back into the plasteel block with more fervor than necessary.
Qui-Gon prefered Obi-Wan's uncommon looks, his rare auburn hair, his changeable hazel eyes, and his cleft chin to Es-Prit'Pur's classic features. And while Obi-Wan shared his superb physique with all humanoid Jedi his age, Obi-Wan carried his in a manner that had made Qui-Gon wish padawans preceeded their masters so that he could enjoy the view from the rear. And his voice, which reminded Qui-Gon of Yorban cream sauce, managed to retain some unidentifiable exotic accent that made "Master" sound like a caress.
Before replacing the marinade brush, he stroked the bristles with his thumb gently to separate them. They were soft, but nowhere near as soft as Obi-Wan's hair had been, even when it was in that spiky padawan cut. The longer locks he now sported as a knight looked positively silky, but Qui-Gon had never been given the opportunity to judge them.
Qui-Gon knew he was not the only Jedi to appreciate Obi-Wan's features... his face, his body, his voice. But for him there was so much more. He knew not just the appearance of the face, but the open, engaging way it conveyed emotions when Obi-Wan wanted to share them. He was familiar not only with Obi-Wan's physique, but the effort he had put into training and the story behind each of the scars it carried. And while Obi-Wan's voice would sound sexy reading a recipe, some of Qui-Gon's fondest memories were of the insights and jokes it had imparted.
The two bowls he picked up next had been hand-thrown on Jimal. The native clay of that planet contained oxides that burst into color when fired and Jimali potters applied only clear glazes to allow the inner beauty to show. Knowing how much Obi-Wan admired this set, he had given it to his knighted padawan to help furnish his new kitchen. He nested the smaller bowl protectively inside the larger one before placing them on a shelf.
Obi-Wan deserved someone who truly knew and appreciated him. Someone who wanted him for who he was, rather than what he looked like. There wasn't anyone who knew Obi-Wan as well as he did! Why had he waited so long? He had wanted to let Obi-Wan have experiences of his own. But not all experiences were worthwhile. And, Force forbid, but what if Obi-Wan fell hard for this knight who didn't deserve him?
The shiny pan that Qui-Gon picked up next reflected his dour countentance. It faithfully recorded the lines criss-crossing his face and the gray hairs infiltrating his beard. Did he really look that old? The contrast between the visage he was presented and his memory of Obi-Wan's was stark.
As he reached up to hang the pan on its hook, a twinge reminded him once again of his body's inability to completely heal itself.
Perhaps his waiting had been for the best. Obi-Wan was young enough to be his son and should find someone his own age. If not Es-Prit'Pur, then someone else. What had ever made him think that he should saddle a brilliant new knight with a jaded old master already on the decline?
Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt his exhaustion. But he could hardly go to sleep in Obi-Wan's bed. He was probably too upset to sleep, anyway. He wanted to take all the food home with him and erase any sign he had been here. But it would be too awkward to carry everything. Two or more trips would be necessary and Obi-Wan would notice that some of his dishes had disappeared.
He would leave the food and comm Obi-Wan tomorrow, or rather, later today. Obi-Wan didn't have to find out how long he had waited. Let him think his old master had gone off to eat latemeal on his own when no one had shown up in time to join him. Maybe he would arrange to share the meal with Obi-Wan and his new lover. There was plenty to feed three. He would toast Obi-Wan on both his anniversary and his new relationship.
Qui-Gon left Obi-Wan's rooms empty-handed.
Despite his fatigue, he took a circuitous route. He wasn't at all anxious to reach his empty quarters after spending so much time alone in Obi-Wan's. He drew some satisfaction from the echo of his footsteps in the deserted corridors. He even found himself stomping to amplify the effect.
That recalled the time when Obi-Wan had been much younger, still in the first year of his apprenticeship. The boy had done poorly in a sparring competition and Qui-Gon had found him later that day tramping around in an empty salle. Qui-Gon had chastised his padawan for behavior unbecoming a Jedi.
With that realization, Qui-Gon headed directly back to his quarters with the light step appropriate for a Jedi master.
As soon as his door slid opened, he could smell Urranian Nerf and felt disoriented. How could that smell be here in his quarters? As he turned up the lights, he realized the table was set for two.
Suddenly, Obi-Wan burst out of the padawan chamber. "Where in the Sith hells have you been?" he demanded, throwing up his hands.
Qui-Gon stared at him in astonishment. Obi-Wan was here in his quarters! He had been waiting for him to come home! He had been planning a meal here! Oh, he should have known! Qui-Gon was ecstatic, but still too shocked to do anything but stare at Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan was staring in return, waiting for an answer. His hair was mussed up and his eyes were red. Was his face damp?
Then Obi-Wan lowered his gaze as a flush stole over his face. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon," he said quietly. "I have no right to ask you that." He took a deep breath and then let it out in sigh. "Please just let me explain. I commed you today, I mean yesterday, as soon as I returned from Dubon. I was planning on just leaving you a message, because I thought you were still on Tarbin. But when your comm recording said you were out but in-temple, I decided I'd drop by later in person."
That sounded like Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon nodded encouragingly.
"I was still catching up on my messages when Mace commed me and asked me to do afternoon creche duty. I tried to beg off, telling him I intended to meet up with you. He told me you wouldn't be in your quarters all afternoon."
Qui-Gon smirked but refrained from explaining. He wanted to hear all of Obi-Wan's story first.
"So that's when I had an idea to surprise you with a special dinner. A kind of a 'thank you' for my knighthood. I got Garen to do the creche duty for me, bought all the supplies, and came straight here. I spent the entire afternoon cooking. But then you didn't show up."
Obi-Wan began to pace quickly around the room, turning abruptly each time he encountered an impediment.
"At first I didn't think anything of it, but as time passed I began to wonder what you could possibly be doing... and who you might be doing it with. I was afraid you might prefer spending your time with some other master."
At that, he stopped pacing front of Qui-Gon but covered his face with his hands.
His voice was muffled as he continued, "And then I remembered that Mace knew you wouldn't be around this afternoon. Maybe he knew you'd be gone all day and all night too. I even began to think he had saddled me with creche duty to get me out of the way!"
"Mace?" Qui-Gon blurted out in astonishment. Grabbing Obi-Wan's wrists, he pulled the hands away from his face. Obi-Wan averted his gaze by looking down fixedly.
"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. I was just so disappointed waiting here all alone. I had really been looking forward to spending the evening with you." Obi-Wan raised his eyes to Qui-Gon's. "You see," he continued in a voice just barely above a whisper, "I had been planning on telling you how much I love you. If you don't want to hear that, just let me know. But please forgive me for how I acted tonight."
Of course he would! After hearing that Obi-Wan loved him, he would have forgiven his former padawan for anything short of turning to the dark side.
Obi-Wan's eyes were reddened, his cheeks flushed, and his lips moist and slightly puffy. Instead of detracting from his appeal, that made Qui-Gon long to kiss the sadness away. But he wanted Obi-Wan to experience their first kiss knowing how well his love was returned and that there was nothing to forgive, or if there was, that his former master had acted exactly the same way.
"Well, Obi-Wan, I suppose I can forgive you," he replied, trying to lighten the mood. "Because then I expect that you'll forgive me. You see, I spent all that time in your quarters."
"My quarters?" Obi-Wan echoed, clearly perplexed as to what Qui-Gon would be doing there.
"That was where I was going to surprise you with an anniversary meal of Urranian Nerf." Qui-Gon paused.
"Good choice," Obi-Wan commented cautiously, but looking more hopeful.
"With quintel, braised root vegetables, and Garberry Mousse," Qui-Gon continued.
"All my favorites." A grin was definitely trying to form on Obi-Wan's face. "So why would I need to forgive you for that?"
"Because when you never returned I began to think you were spending the night with Es-Prit'Pur! And that upset me very much, because I had planned on telling you how very much I loved you."
The laughter that burst out from Obi-Wan sounded almost hysterical. Qui-Gon recognized it as the product of relief, but it wasn't exactly the reaction to his confession of love that he had fantasized.
Obi-Wan stopped as suddenly as he had started. "What a good idea, Master!" he exclaimed, his face transformed by joy.
"Here's another one."
Qui-Gon stepped closer and lowered his mouth to Obi-Wan's, kissing him tenderly. Obi-Wan's eyes closed as he returned the gentle kisses. They pulled each other nearer. Obi-Wan stroked Qui-Gon's back while Qui-Gon ran his fingers through the young knight's hair. A small part of Qui-Gon's mind registered that it did indeed feel silky.
When Obi-Wan's mouth opened, inviting Qui-Gon's tongue inside, he was quick to accept. He plunged into the hot slick mouth, finally getting the taste he most craved. Obi-Wan was delicious! The clean male flavor was completely addictive. Qui-Gon swallowed Obi-Wan's moans greedily, thrusting his tongue deeply to extract more.
The vibrations caused Qui-Gon's already hard erection to jump and he pressed it against Obi-Wan's abdomen. There it found its match. Obi-Wan flung his head back as they ground against each other, and his moans escalated into feral noises.
Suddenly a loud growl erupted, but not from his throat. It ended with a distinctive gurgle. Both men looked down at Obi-Wan's stomach.
"I'm afraid I missed latemeal last night," he admitted.
"Fancy that! So did I. Shall we eat now?" Qui-Gon gestured at the set table. Urranian Nerf could get rather messy, especially if they fed each other by hand. Perhaps he should suggest that they strip first to avoid staining their light-colored tunics and leggings.
"I'm more in the mood for something sweet," Obi-Wan said, licking his lips. "But I'm afraid your chocolate souffle fell hours ago. I think we could still cut it with a lightsaber, but eating it would result in a trip to the healer's. Didn't you mention Garberry Mousse?"
"Indeed I did. Well then, shall we have dessert at your place?" Qui-Gon asked, thinking again of the mousse's untried potential.
Perhaps the same thought had struck Obi-Wan, because he replied, "Oh, yes! Definitely." He grabbed Qui-Gon's arm and propelled him towards the door.
Just before leaving his quarters, Qui-Gon embraced Obi-Wan. "Happy anniversary, my knight," he said, adding emphasis with a quick but firm kiss.
"That was yesterday," Obi-Wan retorted. "Today will be a different anniversary to celebrate from now on." And with that, Obi-Wan pulled him out the door.