St. Patrick's Play

by Merry Amelie (MerryAmelie@aol.com)

Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Holiday pleasures
Series: Academic Arcadia -- 1) Wedding Gifts 2) A Symposium on Love 3) Dinner and a Movie 4) Please Call First 5) Masquerade 6) A Change of Clime 7) Christmas in Williamsburg 8) A Paduan New Year's Eve 9) Flux 10) Ki of Tranquility 11) A Rescindable Honor 12) An Honor Conferred 13) Outmaneuvered 14) Valentines by Design 15) Mastery 16) A Walk in the Park 17) The Man of the Moment 18) St. Patrick's Play
Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com
Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
To Alex, my friend and beta

Quinn Masterson had been enjoying the 'firsts' on his to do list with Ian for months now. He found himself ticking off the year in holidays and celebrations, each savored anew with Ian at his side.

Ten months after a train ride had changed his life, Quinn was looking forward to a St. Patrick's Day dinner with his friend. Quinn whistled as he read in their office, waiting for Ian's meeting to finish.

A knock on the door bothered Quinn: no Ian yet, and possible students to deal with. Hiding his grumpiness, he answered it, to find his colleagues Ethan and Evan smiling at him.

"Hello, Quinn. Are you and Ian up for some green beer this evening?" Ethan asked hopefully.

Suppressing a sigh, Quinn summoned his manners. "We'd like that. I expect him any minute, so come in and have a seat."

When they'd pulled chairs around Quinn's desk, Evan asked, "So, is Ian happy here?"

"Yes, Luke is a good fit for him. A bit of a trial by fire, with three courses, each more demanding than what he's used to, but he's handling it well."

Ethan said, "I'm glad. He's a fine addition to the department, and already has support from the council. How did you ever befriend such a by-the-book fellow?"

Ian came in to the sound of their chuckles. "Getting a head start on the festivities, gentlemen?" he said dryly.

"How did you guess?" asked Evan with a wink.

The men rose before Ian could take off his leather jacket, and hustled him out the door, informing him of their destination, Farrell's Pub, as they piled into the Audi.

When they got to the bar, it was already packed with revelers, some wearing green in the spirit of the day, some green from spirits. They managed to get a booth after a ten minute wait, and started to order food and drink.

Much to Quinn's dismay, Ethan requested a pitcher of the promised green beer, not even bothering to find out the brand. Ignoring that, Quinn asked for a pint of Guinness, as did Ian.

'Smart lad,' Quinn thought in approval. His months with Quinn had indeed taught Ian a thing or two.

Ian and Quinn also ordered dinner, though the others were content with beer and chips. After their disparate drinks arrived, the professors settled in to talk shop.

Ethan said, "Congratulations on keeping Walker in the program, Quinn."

"Thanks, Eth. Ian actually had quite a lot to do with it. His drills with Danny are honing his oral defense." Quinn sipped his stout appreciatively.

"That'll be an uphill battle for Danny," said Ethan.

Ian answered, "He's ready for it," pleasantly but firmly.

Evan asked, "Have you accepted the directorship, Quinn?"

"Yes, for the exposition courses next semester."

"Glad to hear it. I'll be teaching one of those, and it's time they put someone competent in charge."

Quinn ignored Evan's smirk, and deflected his impolitic comment with a subject change. Lifting his glass in the direction of the wide-screen TV, on which a pro basketball game played, he said, "What happened to How Green Was My Valley? They've shown it every year since I've been at Luke."

"Wait a minute," said Ethan. "There's a Skyhawks game on tonight. I bet it's playing at Gaughan's. Let's head over there."

Evan said, "Good idea," and drank the remainder of his beer.

Ian and Quinn's order of bangers and mashed had just arrived, however. They looked at it longingly, undecided.

Ethan took pity on them, saying, "That looks too good to pass up, fellows. We'll ride home with Case, and give you a play-by-play of the game tomorrow."

Goodbyes said, Quinn and Ian turned to each other and their food. Ian had long since perfected the eroticization of seemingly innocuous actions, among them eating. The aptly named bangers had him smiling before the first mouthful. The fastidious application of mustard, the ritualized dipping in mashed, the frequent sips of Guinness: all provided him with opportunities to display his talents, visible only to Quinn, now that they had the enclosed booth to themselves.

Quinn watched avidly, though he knew, despite their temporary privacy, that the server could return at any moment. The bangers inevitably reminded him of his first meal with Ian: hot dogs on their train ride to Massachusetts. Then, Quinn had been a bit embarrassed by the suggestive mess he'd made of lunch, all too aware of the impression he might have given; now, Quinn could enjoy Ian's sensuality, confident that Ian basked in his full attention.

This was one of the few occasions on which they relaxed their dietary standards, allowing them to indulge not only in the premium sausage, but in dessert as well. It had to be the Bailey's Irish Cream cake to celebrate the holiday properly. They decided to split it, feeling less virtuous and more rambunctious as they looked at each other with icing on their lips, wishing fervently that they had decided to eat dessert at home.

Later, when they were happily ensconced on the sofa recliner, digesting their meal in contentment, Quinn took a small piece of jewelry from his pocket. It was a tiny shamrock, made of green glass with silver between the leaves. He clasped Ian's hand, and placed the shamrock on his palm with care.

"My grandmother gave this to me when I was a lad. She told me it would lead me to my true love some day. I had it in my pocket on the train when we met. It's really yours now, since you hold my heart." Quinn spoke in a whisper, his breath a caress upon Ian's cheek. He felt Ian's fingers close tightly over the shamrock.

"Thank you, love. This is going everywhere with me." Ian pulled Quinn down for a kiss, then put the little shamrock on his keyring.

A whimsical smile graced Quinn's face. "So you like it, then?"

Mischief played in Ian's eyes. "Well, it is only a sham rock; at least I gave you a real river stone."

Quinn groaned. "That's the worst pun I've ever heard."

"Thank you. Superlatives will get you everywhere."

Quinn clearly had to use extreme measures to stop Ian's alleged witticisms. He chose the most pleasurable course of action, and just kissed him. The immediate effect was quite gratifying: Ian's lovely mouth had shifted from stimulating conversation to stimulation, pure and simple. A few more kisses, and Quinn forgot why he had distracted Ian in the first place, but by then it didn't matter.

Their real holiday celebration was about to begin.

end.