Master Apprentice Archive The Odd Sock Couple Quick search:

Archive: MA, or ask me

Category: Q/O, humour

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Summary: General "Odd Couple" silliness. The boyz get wet.

Disclaimer: George's characters, not mine.

Feedback: Yes please

Note: Arose from a discussion with Master Cuimne about the amazing characteristics of socks and their inability to remain in stable relationships with their own kind. Brilliant beta by Bonnie. Mistakes are mine all mine.

The pouring rains hadn't abated since the Jedi arrived, and the long trek from the spaceport on the outskirts of town had ensured that both men were soaked. Their robes were heavy with water which had seeped through to saturate the layers of tunics and leggings beneath. Their steps had the distinctive squelching sound of wet socks inside wet boots.

Their hosts were used to the weather, of course, and ventured outside as little as possible and only when clad in brightly-hued shiny plastic coveralls. When they saw the state of their honoured Jedi guests, the long-awaited meeting was postponed and fresh dry clothing was rapidly supplied with the insistence that they change quickly before the vengeance of the rain god be visited upon them. In other words, before they caught a chill.

The natives of this wet, drab world seemed to make up for the monochrome flatness outside by wearing clothes of the most glorious colours, so it was no surprise that the apparel laid out for their guests in the warm sitting room of their new quarters was much more flamboyant than that usually worn by Jedi. Or by most sentient beings, come to that.

Resigned to looking rather ridiculous for at least the time it took to dry their regular gear, Obi-Wan held a handful of socks and eyed them accusingly.

"I can't wear these, Master."

Qui-Gon had deposited his wet clothes in an untidy mass from which rivulets ran across the tiled floor and was drying himself with a large, shocking pink towel.

Obi-Wan's clothes were folded neatly in a pile, having been wrung out in the fresher.

"Of course you can. It'll only be for a few hours."

"It's not the clothes, Master. It's something else. Qui-Gon, will you look at me when I'm complaining?"

The master emerged from towelling his hair and looked as requested. "What? Socks. What's wrong with them?"

"If you count them, Master, there are four. Not two pairs, notice, but four odd socks. One red, one green, one black with gold stripes and this one," he said, pausing as he held the offending item up for inspection, "defies description."

"We have two feet each, Padawan." Qui-Gon tried his best Reasonable Master voice. "Four socks is a perfectly adequate number. Now please hurry and dress." The sight of his naked apprentice was doing what it always did to him, and unfortunately there wasn't time just then to do anything about it. He pulled on an item of underwear which, though the fit was fine, Qui-Gon was glad none of his colleagues in the Temple would ever see him wearing. The fabric shone with multi-faceted threads of scarlet shot with copper. What little fabric there was. It barely contained what it was meant to contain.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow but otherwise neglected to comment on the sight.

"I can't wear odd socks. It's just wrong." A slight hint of a whine was creeping into the padawan's voice.

Qui-Gon continued dressing and his voice was muffled as a shirt was pulled over his head. "I've never heard of odd socks being a path to the Darkside, Obi-Wan." When he surfaced from the billowing yellow fabric the colour of a Tatooine sunrise, he was pleased to notice that Obi-Wan had at least pulled on a pair of leggings and was tying the laces. They were very fetchingly tight leggings, however, which rested low on the young man's hip bones. "Besides, we have to wear our boots so no-one will even know about the socks."

"I know." Qui-Gon loved that hint of a pout. "Why couldn't they have given us matching socks? What sort of people have socks that don't match?"

Obi-Wan continued grumbling as he dressed until finally both were ready and presentable. Presentable in this culture, at least. Many others would require protective eyewear.

The master opened the door and shooed the apprentice out before him. He just had to take advantage of the view from behind of his padawan's bottom snugly contained in those leggings, even if the soft emerald green fabric clashed abominably with the puce floral patterned shirt. At least the shirt was short, leaving a gap of visible bare skin.

"You are wearing the socks, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master. My boots would chafe otherwise."

They walked along the hallway, nodding politely to the outrageously bedecked citizens they encountered.

"But I drew the line at the thong."