One 'Fresher

by Merry Amelie (MerryAmelie@aol.com)

Archive: MA only

Category: Humor, Qui/Obi, Romance

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A refresher course on love

A chronological list of Quinn/Ian stories with URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/master-apprentice/files/

My MA story page: http://www.masterapprentice.org/cgi-bin/qs.cgi?keyword=Merry+Amelie

Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com

Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.

To Alex, Ula, and Nerowill, my friends and betas extraordinaire

A sopping wet and soapy Qui-Gon jiggled the shower handle to no avail; it just wasn't working any more. He dried off as much as he could, donned a bathrobe, and stalked across the hall to the common room, where Obi-Wan was reading a datapad on the couch.

"Obi-Wan, could I use your 'fresher?"

Obi-Wan looked up at the unusual sight before him: a tousled Qui-Gon, his damp, sudsy hair sticking up in all directions, a bit like his own Padawan cut.

"Yes, of course." Obi-Wan managed to contain his smile.

"Thank you." Qui-Gon managed to contain his snarl.

This was the first time in years that they'd share facilities within the Temple, since Qui-Gon's were in the Master bedroom suite, Obi-Wan's in the hall off the Padawan room.

Qui-Gon walked into the now-unfamiliar 'fresher gratefully. He hadn't been in there since Obi-Wan's Junior Padawan days, when he'd cared for his childhood ills. The soothing blue of its tiles teased his memory.

He was struck by how neat it was; if someone had asked to use his 'fresher without giving him notice, it would have been a mess -- towels anyplace but on the rack, enough fur to make a cloak on each horizontal surface, datapads strewn everywhere, potted plants adding their own dirt to the mix.

Obi-Wan's looked like you could eat off the countertop.

Of course, that meant he had to scrounge through cabinets to find the soap and shampoo. A few bath beads from Plaisance, some massage oils, and a small rubber womprat later, he found the toiletries he needed. But his imagination had started to burn into hyperdrive, further fueled by a holocube of himself in leggings and nothing more practicing the Falling Leaf kata, which he discovered tucked away beneath the spare towels.

Thus, it was not surprising that when he dried himself, the smell of his Padawan's clean skin on their shared towel elicited a delightfully illicit reaction.

Qui-Gon clumsily translated a maintenance droid's beeps a few hours later, to discover that it would either be a few days or a few weeks until the part to fix his shower came in, depending on the third beep in the sequence.

He wondered at Obi-Wan's smile when he asked to share his 'fresher until his own was fixed. He thought he'd left the place as immaculate as he had found it, but perhaps he'd overlooked something.

Obi-Wan took to leaving the door unlocked.

He learned to time his ablutions so that he'd pass a damp Obi-Wan, wearing only a standard-issue towel, barely sufficient for drying, hopelessly inadequate for coverage, just as they made the changeover.

For some reason, when he'd realized he would be using Obi-Wan's facilities for more than just one shower, he'd taken to borrowing his toiletries as well -- bouri soap, huluska tree shampoo, scintamint paste, even his shaver.

Obi-Wan had never commented on this, but must have increased his orders to Stores to accomodate the acreage of his guest.

Qui-Gon was surrounded by Obi-Wan in a way he never had been before, his body becoming sensitized to the sights, sounds, and scents of his apprentice. He drank in this closeness through his very pores, the essence of his Obi-Wan.

The unexpected intimacy of sharing with Obi-Wan transformed the tantalizing fantasies he'd had of them together after his Padawan's Knighting into actual sensation. He'd thought that they were as close as possible for a Master/Padawan pair to be, but there was something about finding his latest datapad on the recycler chute cover, fingering a rare copper strand which had eluded Obi-Wan's keen eye, feeling the humidity of his just-finished shower. He was drenched in Obi-Wan, and never wanted it to end.

His initial arousal far from a fluke, Qui-Gon's body became primed to react to the scents of bouri and huluska, and the shower habitually washed away more than soap and sweat.

He'd started to hum Obi-Wan's favorite Malastarean drinking songs while water cascaded over his hair and back, to imagine Obi-Wan in the shower with him when his eyes were closed. His Padawan's firm hands were always just where he needed them to be.

The resultant intimacy lasted all day.

Over firstmeal, hair still drying, Qui-Gon would casually leave it unbound, whereas before, he'd always come to the table with his hair tied back, perfectly groomed. He'd just as likely wear his bathrobe as his robes of office, and was delighted to see Obi-Wan follow suit.

During noonmeal, they were wont to debate many a possible salve for kata-sore muscles. Now that Qui-Gon knew his Padawan's favorite ingredients, it was easier to personalize his treatment. Unyielding in their sparring matches, Obi-Wan's muscles yielded more easily under his big hands, now that he'd begun to unlock his apprentice's secrets.

Lastmeal brought with it the most pleasure -- another day's work completed, a postprandial bath more desirable than an invigorating shower. They'd trade soft smiles as they traded places, mellowing in their downtime. Listening to Obi-Wan's playful splashing, Qui-Gon thought he'd solved the mystery of the rubber womprat.

Their personal rhythms synchronized in natural harmony. Qui-Gon forgot that this bliss was temporary.

The maintenance droid returned a week later during firstmeal to beep that the 'fresher in the Master bedroom was usable once more. Qui-Gon could not prevent a frown, but looking up, he noticed the same smile Obi-Wan had given him when they'd started to share.

"You're not relieved?" Obi-Wan spoke casually, but Qui-Gon could sense his underlying seriousness.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to answer honestly. "No, I'm not. I like sharing with you."

Obi-Wan positively beamed at this. "Me too. You're always welcome, no matter the state of your 'fresher."

Greatly daring, Qui-Gon reached over to run his fingers through the russet spikes nearest him. Obi-Wan automatically pushed into his hand, all but purring his pleasure. He was almost near enough now for a kiss.

Qui-Gon had never used his height to greater advantage than when he leaned in further to change that potential to reality. He kissed Obi-Wan and felt the universe expand to infinity around them. Those sensuous lips under his, the concentrated scents he'd been relishing all week, the love in his Obi-Wan's eyes -- all tempted him closer. Pure Obi-Wan.

A bit breathless already, Qui-Gon asked, "Your 'fresher or mine?"

"Mine has the womprat," said the mischievous Padawan as he was dragged back to the 'fresher by his already-clean Master, who just couldn't wait to get them dirty once more.

Qui-Gon knew better than to mention the duraplast part he'd found rolling around the bottom of Obi-Wan's 'fresher drawer on the very first day.