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Reality Check

by Jedi Rita (jedirita@yahoo.com)

Rating: R

Pairing: Obi/Bail, Qui/OFC

Category: romance, angst

Summary: Obi-Wan convinces Bail to go with him on a double date with his master. In a clash of the Alpha Males, a Prince takes on a Jedi Master. Who will win?

Warnings: a territorial Prince and a vacillating Padawan; you may very well want to slap all three of the boys at some point in the story; also sex in a less than sanitary setting

Mush alert: not too bad

Angst-o-meter: 6-7

Timeline: Takes place right after "Forgiven," approx. 3 years before TPM

Archive: M-A and http://www.wyomingnot.com/rita/rita.html

Author's note: The Dusty Mynock is lovingly based on the Mucky Duck in Houston, Texas, the best little pub on the planet! Wednesday night is celtic open mike jam session!

Feedback: While the boys continue to wrestle with their relationship, I felt it was high time we got a little of Qui-Gon's perspective on the situation. So, what do you think of Qui-Gon's POV?

Fatuous Homage: Master George owns everything in this universe, and probably several others. Believe me, he has more of my money than I have of his!

More Fatuous Homage: is dutifully paid to Emma Nesbit for beta-ing this for me. She is brilliant! She is insightful! She is timely! And I am honored by her time and effort!

Story order:
Perhaps
Maybe
Falling
Back for Seconds - Obi-Wan and Bail
Bailing Bail
Padawan Games
Greener Pastures
Forgiven
Reality Check <--You are here
Better Than Destiny
A Cross-Cultural Affair
Deconstruction
Reconstruction
Rewoven
Night Visitor
Father Figure
A Model Padawan
Not All Dreams Are Visions
You Don't Bring Me Flowers
Dangerous Fame
Labyrinth
Private Lessons (off-site link)
Owner's Mark
Epicenter
Duty
Penumbra
Nightfall
Batter My Heart

Qui-Gon was just finishing his morning tea when Obi-Wan returned to their quarters. "Good morning, Padawan," he greeted as Obi-Wan hung up his robe next to the door.

"Morning, Master."

Qui-Gon's attention returned to the datapad he had been studying. "I hope you've already eaten, because I've finished most of what was left in the cooler."

"No, I overslept," Obi-Wan answered. "Don't worry. I'll find something."

Qui-Gon resumed his reading as Obi-Wan rummaged through the kitchen. He did not ask Obi-Wan how his apology to the Prince had gone. That answer was fairly obvious. No, this scenario was not that unusual during their stays on Corsucant, Obi-Wan returning home in the morning, usually already showered and fed, ready for the day's responsibilities. Ever since these nocturnal absences had begun, Qui- Gon had never had anything to complain about in his Padawan's behavior. Obi-Wan did not let his recreational pursuits interfere with his duty. So Qui-Gon never asked about said recreational pursuits, and Obi-Wan never told him, and Prince Bail remained a near invisible presence between then, acknowledged only by their mutual silence.

Obi-Wan found some leftovers Qui-Gon had missed and brought a plate to the table, eating his meal in silence. Eventually, Qui-Gon ventured, "I spoke with Master Nerea about the three of us going out to dinner. She said she'd love it. Are you free tonight?"

Obi-Wan finished the bite he was chewing on. "Yes."

"Good," Qui-Gon pronounced. "I'm looking forward to it. I think it will be good for all of us."

Obi-Wan struggled not to scowl. Good for the lovesick padawan is what Qui-Gon really meant. But Obi-Wan had no grounds to complain, not when that was exactly the way he had behaved of late.

"In fact," Qui-Gon continued, "why don't you pick where we go? I daresay you are more familiar with Coruscant's dining establishments than either myself or Nerea."

No doubt that was true. Bail insisted on dragging Obi-Wan to every trendy restaurant on the planet. And that presented a certain problem. "Um...."

Qui-Gon cocked a curious eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

Obi-Wan brushed some crumbs off the table. "Well, the places I know are a little expensive."

With a knowing smile, Qui-Gon said, "That's all right. I think all three of us could do with a little indulgence for once. Don't worry about the price, Padawan. Just pick some place you think we'll all enjoy."

Obi-Wan nodded absently, staring down at his plate. The Prince had far more income at his disposal than a Jedi Master did, and Obi-Wan hesitated to spend so much of Qui-Gon's money on this outing. But then perhaps this was Qui-Gon's way of making up for the fact that he was imposing this date on Obi-Wan in the first place, making his padawan acknowledge his relationship with Master Nerea. It bothered Obi-Wan, however, that this acknowledgement would take place in a restaurant that he had been to with Bail.

Abruptly Obi-Wan realized the inherent imbalance of the situation. He was being made to face the reality of one of Qui-Gon's lovers while his own remained conspicuously absent. Obi-Wan had always preferred it that way, since his liaison with the Prince contradicted his profession of love for Qui-Gon. But now for the first time he had professed love for Bail as well, and if he had to acknowledge Qui- Gon's lover, he wanted Qui-Gon to acknowledge Bail in return.

Looking up from his contemplation of the table, Obi-Wan announced, "Master, I would like to invite the Prince to join us."

Qui-Gon hesitated, then said, "That is an excellent idea, Obi-Wan." But in truth Obi-Wan's announcement surprised him. Of course, it should be natural for Obi-Wan to want to bring his...whatever the Prince was to him on a date, but that was the problem. Qui-Gon was not at all sure what exactly his padawan's relationship was with the famously amorous Prince, and he didn't particularly care to be treated to some kind of exhibition of Obi-Wan's bed partner. But then he had no more right to choose Obi-Wan's date than Obi-Wan had to choose Qui-Gon's, and wasn't that the reason why Qui-Gon had suggested this date in the first place? Rousing all the sincerity he could muster, he added, "I will enjoy getting to know the Prince better."

Obi-Wan appeared a little skeptical at that, but he merely nodded his head. "With your permission, then, I'll call him and see when he might be available. His schedule can be very full."

"By all means, Padawan."

Obi-Wan took his leave of Qui-Gon, silently heaving a sigh of relief. Not that he had thought Qui-Gon would refuse, but it was still hard for him even to talk about the Prince with his Master. He retreated to his room and pulled out his commlink, calling up Bail's frequency.

The Prince answered almost immediately. "Hello, my naughty little padawan. What's the matter? Two nights in a row isn't enough for you?"

"I can never get enough, your Highness," Obi-Wan teased in return. "We Jedi have insatiable appetites. Actually, I have a proposal for you."

"A proposal?" Bail purred. "How interesting. More kinky Jedi rituals?"

Obi-Wan laughed. "I suppose so. Qui-Gon has asked me to go out with him and Master Nerea, and I want to invite you to join us."

There was a long silence, and even without the Force Obi-Wan could feel the sudden chill in the Prince's spirit. At last Bail tensely asked, "Why?"

Flustered, Obi-Wan said, "What do you mean, 'why?' I should think the answer would be obvious."

"It isn't. Not to me."

What the...? Obi-Wan thought they had worked out their differences. Obviously he was mistaken. "If I'm going to go out with my Master and his date, I'd like to have a date of my own."

"So you won't be left out?" Bail retorted. "Poor Obi-Wan. Why don't you find someone else to play stand in?"

"Why would I want to find someone else?"

"Well, I didn't particularly care for it the last time you used me to resolve your differences with Qui-Gon, so I don't see why I should like it any better now."

Obi-Wan was shocked. "I thought we had worked that out."

"Then why are you asking me to go on this date? To prove to Qui-Gon that you're over him?"

"No, I--." He stopped. Bail's accusation rang just a little too true.

The silence continued far too long, until Bail finally said, his tone subdued, "There. You see? It's still about him." Obi-Wan said nothing, could think of no ready reply, and Bail continued, "We worked things about between us last night. That's fine. But whatever you have to prove to Qui-Gon is between him and you. I want no part of it."

"But that's the point," Obi-Wan tried to explain, "I want you to be part of it."

"I'm not interested in a three-way."

"Damn it, Bail, that's not why I-"

"I said no. If it's me you want, give me a call. But if you just want a substitute, call an escort service."

And with that, he terminated the call, leaving a very frustrated and hurt padawan staring at his dead commlink. Now what was he going to do? Evidently they hadn't worked things out as well as he'd thought, and he was going to have to go on this date alone, would have to tell his master... what? That Bail didn't want to come? That wouldn't look good at all. He couldn't lie to Qui-Gon, but Obi- Wan had had quite enough rejection and humiliation over the past few days. Maybe he should try to find someone to play substitute.

Except he didn't want a substitute, he wanted Bail. What had happened to all that talk of love? Maybe he should just forget the whole thing. It was far too complicated for him to figure out.

For the time being, Obi-Wan elected to say nothing to Qui-Gon. He would tell him later, tell him that Bail was too busy and couldn't free up his schedule. It was a lie, but right now Obi-Wan wasn't sure he knew what the truth was anymore.

He managed to conceal his sulking for the rest of the day, slinking quietly but dutifully through his normal daily routine. Then late in the afternoon, his commlink buzzed. He answered absently, "Kenobi here."

"Is it too late for me to reconsider?" asked a subdued Prince.

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, letting his anger and disappointment roll through him and into the Force.

Bail continued, "I'm still not sure I like the idea of going on a double date with your master, but it occurred to me that if you need someone to stand in as a boyfriend, then I am your man."

His words cut Obi-Wan deeply. "You're not a stand in."

Bail paused. "I'm not so sure about that. At any rate, if I'm going to go, then I want it made perfectly clear: I am your boyfriend, I and no one else. Not Qui-Gon, but me. And I will act like your boyfriend. I'm not going to play coy because of him. If you can't handle that, then I won't go. Is that understood?"

The Prince had never been so proprietary about him before, and Obi- Wan wasn't sure how he felt about that. He hoped Bail wouldn't act inappropriately, no excessive public displays of affection or anything, but right now he was hardly in the mood to complain. "That's precisely why I want you to come."

A little pause. "All right, then. As long as everything is clear."

"It's clear." But it wasn't, not really. It didn't matter; Obi-Wan could wing it. "So when is good for you?"

"How about tomorrow night?"

"Fine. Around 7:00?"

"Let's make it 8:00 so I'll have enough time to get ready."

"It's just a dinner," Obi-Wan objected.

"My dearest Bendu, you know perfectly well it is never just a dinner with me!"

Oh, dear. The Prince sounded far too smug. Just what did he have in mind, anyway? Obi-Wan sincerely hoped he wouldn't gloat too much in front of Qui-Gon. Ah, well, it was too late for him to do anything about it now. Whatever happened tomorrow night was going to happen on Bail's terms. When were things any different?

"So I'll see you there tomorrow at eight."

"Sounds good." They signed off for the second time that day, and Obi- Wan hardly felt any more confident this time than he had before.

Obi-Wan had ample time to worry about the upcoming date, but he was determined to go through with it. There was something inevitable about the whole situation, a moment of truth he had been avoiding for some time, and as anxious as he was about it, he was also rather relieved to finally get it over with.

Shortly before 8:00, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon and Nerea were all waiting in the Temple lobby, along with a number of curious padawans and not a few knights. The Temple rumor mill was up to speed. If either Qui- Gon or Nerea noticed the unusual number of people lounging around in the lobby surreptitiously watching the doors, they didn't say anything. Innocently, Nerea remarked, "I'm glad to have this chance to meet Senator Organa. I've heard quite a bit about him, even though I'm seldom on Coruscant. He's gained quite a reputation, hasn't he?"

There was no way Obi-Wan was going to answer such a question. Instead Qui-Gon supplied, "He has already proven himself a very capable politician."

This struck Nerea as funny. "Well, politicians make for interesting dinner companions, I'm sure." She turned to Obi-Wan. "I didn't realize you knew him so well."

She must really be absent from the Temple a lot if she was so completely out of the gossip loop. Obi-Wan's ongoing relationship with the Prince was one of the order's most popular topics. "I've known him for a couple of years. I worked with him on the Cloning Ethics Conference on Alderaan."

"It's good that you've kept in touch all this time. Qui-Gon may not agree with me, but I believe a Jedi can never know too many senators. They see themselves as our employers, and it's always good for us to keep an eye on them."

Qui-Gon made no comment, discreetly refusing to even look at Obi-Wan, who likewise remained silent. His interest in Bail was hardly political, but if Master Nerea was unaware of that, he had no desire to enlighten her.

The lull in the conversation was covered by a rustle in the Force consciousness of everyone in the room. The main doors had opened, and a lone figure entered the lobby. Everyone in the room shifted for a better look, as Qui-Gon mildly observed, "Here comes the Prince now."

Qui-Gon and Nerea rose to their feet to greet him, but Obi-Wan found he could not move. His muscles had turned to water, and all he could do was stare. He lacked the presence of mind even to notice whether his mouth was hanging open.

Bail Organa, who was accustomed to making an impression, had truly outdone himself. Dressed neither in his voluminous senatorial robes, nor the more revealing attire he tended to choose for less formal occasions, Bail managed to look respectable and devastatingly sexy at the same time. He had foresworn his usual bright colors for simple, form-fitting black pants, a blood red silk shirt, and a tight jacket also of black, but strategically slit in places to reveal glimpses of red. Rather than brushing his hair straight back, he had parted it on the side so that it fell across his forehead in a startlingly seductive look. His dark eyes were lined with kohl, and a small, pale green stone hung from his left earlobe. There was nothing outrageous in his overall appearance to rouse the disapproval of even the most formal Jedi Master, and yet he reeked of sensuality, and his eyes bore into Obi-Wan with searing heat.

Somehow Obi-Wan stumbled to his feet, but he could have sworn the floor lurched beneath him with each of the Prince's steps. The Prince was no Jedi, but he possessed an unmistakable grace of his own, his movements flowing with sensual ease, his lips upturned in a subtle smile. He crossed the room as if completely unaware of all the eyes upon him, and stopped in front of Obi-Wan, reaching out to take his hand as he murmured, "Padawan Kenobi." He raised Obi-Wan's hand to his lips, and Obi-Wan felt that hot mouth open against his skin, tongue flicking discreetly, wickedly across his knuckles, before the lips closed in an apparently chaste kiss, and all the time, Bail's midnight eyes never left his, riveting him in place.

After a moment's significant hesitation, Bail's gaze slid over to Qui- Gon, though he did not release Obi-Wan's hand. "Master Jinn," he said in an almost normal tone. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"It's good to see you as well, your Highness," Qui-Gon returned. "Allow me to present to you Master Nerea Barani."

As Bail, Nerea, and Qui-Gon exchanged polite greetings, Obi-Wan looked on in silence, still struggling to regain his composure and process what was happening. Bail was excruciatingly polite, to Obi- Wan's relief, but he had yet to let go of Obi-Wan's hand, holding on to him firmly and possessively. This was a new side of Bail Obi-Wan had never seen before, and anytime Bail decided to be novel it made Obi-Wan a little nervous.

Once greetings had been exchanged, the two masters turned as if to leave, but Bail did not move. Returning his attention to Obi-Wan, he said, "I have something for you." He held up his hand to reveal a small bead nestled in his palm. Red, the same color as his shirt. A simple gift, and perhaps not a very surprising one for someone to make to a Jedi Padawan, but certainly none of this was coincidence, not given their previous conversation about the braid and its meaning.

Wordlessly Obi-Wan took the bead. He licked the end of his braid, the better to thread it through the bead, but the Prince's eyes sparkled wickedly at the sight, and Obi-Wan was keenly aware that everyone in the room, including his master, was watching this not-so- innocent display. It took all his self-discipline not to blush as red as the bead as he threaded his braid and slid the bead snugly into place.

Thankfully, neither of the masters said anything about the gift, and Obi-Wan hoped they were ignorant of its subtext. They turned once more to go, and Bail slid his arm through Obi-Wan's, allowing a hint of smugness to appear in his expression. His first victory: tonight the braid was definitely his.

In the airtaxi, the Prince continued to stake his claim, his arm resting around Obi-Wan's shoulders. Nothing inappropriate or lascivious about it, it was a gesture of casual familiarity, exactly what a long time lover would do. Still, there was a definite challenge in the air. As they rode to the restaurant, Bail and Master Nerea did most of the talking. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan merely watched, as if waiting to see what the Prince would do next.

"That's a fascinating gem," Nerea remarked, pointing to Bail's earring. "It keeps changing colors."

"Yes. Sometimes it's blue, sometimes it's green, sometimes gray." He turned to look at Obi-Wan. "My favorite color."

Obi-Wan struggled not to roll his blue-green-gray eyes. Could the Prince be any more obvious? Obi-Wan caught Qui-Gon quirking an amused eyebrow at him, and he knew it was going to be a long, painful evening.

They arrived at the restaurant, Bail never once breaking contact with Obi-Wan. When they were escorted to their table, Nerea and Qui-Gon sat on one side, Bail and Obi-Wan on the other, Bail taking the seat directly across from Qui-Gon, as if to place as much distance as possible between padawan and master. And always his arm lay on the back of Obi-Wan's chair or his hand rested on Obi-Wan's knee beneath the table. Obi-Wan fought the urge to shrug him off, not at all certain whether it was the Prince's possessiveness he objected to, or the fact that he was displaying it in front of Qui-Gon.

When they placed their orders, Obi-Wan surprised Qui-Gon by ordering wine.

"I thought you didn't like wine," Qui-Gon remarked.

"I've...acquired a taste for it," Obi-Wan explained. No need to elucidate who he had acquired the taste from. Score another point for the Prince. The hand on Obi-Wan's knee tightened slightly, and he could sense the self-satisfaction radiating from Bail.

Across the table, Nerea was saying, "They do grow up, Qui-Gon."

"Yes," he observed. "Somehow with each padawan I manage to forget that."

"How many padawans have you trained, Master Jinn?" inquired Bail.

"Obi-Wan is my third, and will no doubt be my last. I don't think I'm up to going through all that adolescence again. Besides, I could never find a finer apprentice than Obi-Wan. He has quite spoiled me, so I might as well quit while I'm ahead."

Obi-Wan glowed from the rare compliment. Point to Qui-Gon. Bail doubted he could ever say anything that would bring Obi-Wan such pure, simple pleasure. But he knew how to concede defeat gracefully. "Your retirement from teaching will be a great loss to future padawans." He turned to Nerea. "And what of you, Master Barani? Do you have an apprentice?"

"Not currently. I've trained one padawan, and while the overall experience was enjoyable, I know I'm not up to another round of padawan adolescence. Besides, I travel a lot and am seldom at the Temple. I'm too old and set in my ways to want to change. I don't possess Qui-Gon's flexibility of spirit."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "Somehow I doubt the Council would describe me as 'flexible of spirit.'"

"Why do you think I stay as far away from Coruscant as possible?" Nerea quipped.

As the two masters joked about the Council, Obi-Wan sat silently staring at his hands folded on the table. Bail shot him a casual glance, aware that he was losing Obi-Wan. The padawan was jealous. Time to disrupt the banter that Obi-Wan found so disturbing. "Master Barani," Bail asked, "what kind of missions keep you so far away from the Temple?"

"Nothing exciting, I'm afraid. I'm sort of an investigator, a gatherer of intelligence. When teams like Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan negotiate a treaty, I'm the one who goes back a year later to make sure everyone is abiding by the rules. I investigate possible violations of intergalactic law, from toxic waste dumping, to violations of sentient rights, to abuse of the postal system."

Bail quirked an eyebrow at Obi-Wan. "Doesn't sound like your kind of mission." Obi-Wan stiffened, not meeting his gaze, and Bail's heart sank. Had he made an error, inadvertently embarrassed or shamed Obi- Wan in front of his master? Bail could have kicked himself. Desperate to cover for his faux pas, he turned to the masters. "I suppose padawans aren't allowed to have preferences?"

"It is inevitable that some missions will have more appeal than others," Qui-Gon answered. "There is nothing wrong with that, so long as a padawan is open to learning even on the most unpleasant or boring of missions. Obi-Wan has never failed in that way."

Whew. He managed to save face, even if he did so at the expense of gaining another compliment for Obi-Wan from Qui-Gon. He could live with that.

"So, Obi-Wan," Master Nerea asked, "what is your kind of mission?"

Obi-Wan hesitated. "I like...to be physically active."

To Bail's surprise, Nerea laughed. "Ah, youthful energy! You always have to be doing something. I shouldn't say anything, though. When I was your age I felt the same way."

Qui-Gon agreed. "When I was young, all I wanted to do was get out into the galaxy and see new places, meet new people."

"How are you any different now, Master?" Obi-Wan quietly asked, tentatively stepping into the banter. "If you had your way, we'd never come back to Coruscant."

"Well, that's true. I suppose there are some things you never outgrow. But now I no longer insist on slogging through forty kilometers of mud on every mission."

"There was a time when you enjoyed that?" Bail asked.

"I liked to get out into nature," Qui-Gon explained. "I still do, but now I prefer the experience not to be quite so...raw."

"I may be young," Obi-Wan added, "but I have never preferred such 'raw' experiences, Master."

"Indeed not." Qui-Gon turned to Nerea. "You should hear him complain whenever we lack for hot water. Obi-Wan does like to have his amenities."

"Well, at least I don't insist on being able to wash my hair every day. If you really wanted to be practical, Master, you wouldn't grow your hair so long."

Nerea broke in, "Vanity is not becoming in a padawan, but knights and masters are mature enough to handle the responsibility."

"Is that why padawans have short haircuts?" Bail wanted to know.

"Short haircuts, uniform clothing, and no cosmetics are the secret to weathering the trauma of padawan adolescence," Nerea opined. "Otherwise, teenage padawans would spend hours in front of the mirror every day."

"I'm well past my teenage years, and I still spend hours in front of the mirror every day," Bail noted.

"Yes, but I'm sure you have more sense than you did when you were a teenager. I'm told they can spend up to two hours at a time primping."

Bail said nothing. That was about how long it had taken him to get ready for this date. Obi-Wan smiled at him. He knew it, too. Mildly, Obi-Wan remarked, "Some of them even use eyebrow mascara."

Nerea and Qui-Gon laughed, while Bail carefully kept his expression neutral. He looked over at Obi-Wan, narrowing his eyes slightly, as if to say, Obnoxious twerp; I'll make you pay for that. Aloud, he said, "So when you become a knight, will you grow your hair out?"

"When I pass my hair trials, most definitely!"

"I don't know, I rather like the buzz cut. It's good for this." Bail reached up and ruffled his fingers through Obi-Wan's spiky hair.

"That it is," Qui-Gon agreed, and Bail felt a twinge of fresh jealousy.

To change the subject, Bail asked, "So what is your least favorite type of mission, Master Jinn?"

"My least favorite?" he mused. "While I always try to find something worthwhile on any mission, I must admit I have a hard time with any mission in which we merely serve as functionaries, representing the Republic at some ceremonial event where all I am called upon to do is endure hours of brainless small talk with visiting dignitaries."

"Small talk is my specialty," Bail quipped. "If I were a Jedi, I'd probably like those functionary missions best."

"You'd be good at them," Obi-Wan observed with a wry smile. "Force knows how you love to talk."

Bail shot the padawan a questioning look. What did he mean by that? Could it really be much of a compliment when all three of the Jedi apparently scorned such missions? Was Obi-Wan patronizing him? Surely not, and yet Bail was suddenly aware of how out of place he was among the Jedi. What stupid, inappropriate comment would he make next? No doubt Qui-Gon Jinn was passing judgment on him even now, regretting his decision to encourage Obi-Wan to date the Prince, worried that his padawan was wasting his time with a flippant playboy, a ditzy chatterbox, a...a Jedi groupie.

He was so busy berating himself that he hadn't realized Master Nerea had asked him a question until Obi-Wan nudged his foot. He blinked to awareness, even more mortified by his lapse. "I beg your pardon?"

Master Nerea graciously repeated her question as if nothing had happened. "Are diplomatic functions your favorite part of being a senator?"

Bail could feel himself sinking deeper by the second. "I...well, no - - not my favorite part, but...." He paused, struggling to regain control of himself. "Part of politics is about getting to know other people's interests, forming relationships, connections, alliances...."

"Wheeling and dealing," Master Nerea supplied with a smile. "Or I should say 'schmoozing and boozing.' That's the purpose of diplomatic functions, isn't it? To lay the groundwork for the wheeling and dealing part?"

For once in his life, Bail could think of absolutely nothing to say. If he had been more self-possessed, he would have realized Master Nerea meant her comments in jest, but all he could think about was how superficial he must appear to the Jedi. He knew the Jedi as a whole were not too fond of senators, but never had he actually felt that scorn - or felt as if he deserved it. Feeling desperately awkward, he mumbled, "That's one way of looking at it."

Obi-Wan realized Bail was floundering, though he didn't understand why, and he stepped in to cover for him. Addressing Master Nerea, he said, "If that cloning ethics conference is anything to go by, then wheeling and dealing are valuable skills, indeed. I saw Senator Organa get vowed enemies to listen to each other. He built coalitions among the most unlikely of allies. Really, if time permitted him, Senator Organa should teach a course at the Temple on diplomacy. I learned more from watching him on that committee than I ever did in any class."

"Is that so?" Nerea gamely remarked. "Well, Senator, with a recommendation like that to back you, if you ever do decide to teach at the Temple, you can sign me up to take your class."

"Sign me up as well," Qui-Gon added. "Anyone who can impress my padawan like that could probably teach me a thing or two."

Three compliments, one after the other. Bail was as stunned as if they had mind tricked him, and just as suspicious. What did they want from him? What were they trying to prove? And what, by all the stars, had possessed him to agree to this date in the first place? He lowered his eyes, unable to meet any of their gazes, and mumbled at the table, "Such flattery."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Obi-Wan shake his head. "Jedi always speak the truth. We never flatter."

Bail's heart melted. It was flattery, all right, but it was also Obi- Wan, so sweet and considerate, giving that point to Bail outright. Bail wanted to thank the padawan in the way he knew best, by grabbing him and kissing him senseless right there in the restaurant, but there was no way he would do it in front of Qui-Gon.

The three Jedi, sensitive to Bail's unease, veered the conversation away from him to give him a chance to collect himself. Obi-Wan joined in chatting with the masters, but underneath the table he took Bail's hand, which the Prince gratefully accepted. He still felt vulnerable after their fight, and he chided himself for his need for reassurance. Damn Kenobi for stirring up so many emotions in him. He should have gotten out of this relationship while he still had the chance, but it was too late now. Ah, but the rewards were worth it!

As Bail's self-confidence returned, he re-entered the conversation. He had learned his lesson and no longer tried to compete with Qui- Gon, trying to be content with the knowledge that regardless of Obi- Wan's feelings for his master, Bail was his date. It wasn't quite enough, and Bail was sure that in a fair fight he would lose to Qui- Gon hands down. But the fact remained that it was his hand Obi-Wan was holding. If he only won by default, well, it was still a victory.

Throughout the remainder of dinner, the conversation stayed on innocuous topics that everyone could comment on: planets they had visited, books they had read (who could guess Qui-Gon had a fondness for Alderaani poetry?), regaling each other with stories of strange food they had eaten, untrustworthy transports they had traveled in, and foibles with poorly understood languages - including an incident when Obi-Wan had almost provoked a war due to the misuse of a crucial preposition.

They talked long after they had finished dinner and the table was cleared away, until at last Qui-Gon said, "Well, it has been a pleasurable evening, and I have enjoyed getting to know you better, your Highness."

Bail laughed. "You make it sound like the evening is over! Surely you don't mean to call it a night, do you?"

"I doubt my master wants to go clubbing," Obi-Wan said.

"We don't have to go clubbing. We can go to Serenity Park and look at the fountains - or we can take them to the Dusty Mynock."

"The Dusty Mynock?" Nerea repeated with evident skepticism.

"Don't let the colorful name put you off, it's a great little pub. There's always live music. We can dance, or just listen. Or we can play darts in the back room."

"You want to play darts against three Jedi?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Why not? Since I'll know in advance I can't possibly win, I can just play and enjoy myself."

"What kind of music?" Nerea wanted to know.

Bail eagerly turned back to her. "Tonight is Corellian zohta music. Musicians come and go all night long in an open mike jam session. It's their best night."

This news piqued Nerea's interest. "I love Corellian zohta."

"Who doesn't?" Bail enthused. "So, is it a plan?"

The masters agreed, and Obi-Wan did not refuse, although privately he would have preferred they went somewhere else. He thought of the Dusty Mynock as his and Bail's special place, and he wasn't sure how he felt about Qui-Gon intruding on that space. Surely on a planet the size of Coruscant they could have found some neutral territory on which to play out this date, but it appeared Bail had taken it into his head to act as host, which meant taking the masters to a place he knew they would enjoy. So Obi-Wan was forced once again to have the two spheres of his life mingle in an uncomfortable blend.

The little pub was not yet full when they arrived, and they easily found an open table. Even though things wouldn't get really swinging for another hour or so, several musicians were already on stage, starting up their tunes and segueing into new ones with easy abandon.

Bail used the excuse of a tiny table to cozy up to Obi-Wan, resting his hand on Obi-Wan's inner thigh, tapping the beat of the music on Obi-Wan's knee, leaning so far into the padawan's lap he was practically using Obi-Wan's leg as an arm rest, a sight which both masters courteously chose to overlook.

"These musicians are quite good," Nerea commented. "Truly talented. I'm impressed."

"Some of Corellia's best ex-pat musicians like to come play here," Bail offered.

"Can just anyone join in?"

"Certainly, even talentless wonders like me."

Surprised, Nerea asked, "You play zohta?"

"Heavens, no! But they have a general open mike twice a month. Obi- Wan and I have both performed."

"Well, we'll have to come back some time and hear you," Nerea offered, and Qui-Gon was pleased to hear his padawan kept up with his music. He had no idea what Obi-Wan did on his dates with the Prince, aside from the obvious.

"Do you play, Master Nerea?" Bail inquired.

"Yes. I play strings, and as a matter of fact, I know one or two Corellian tunes."

Bail's face lit up, and he urged, "You should get up there! Someone will lend you an instrument."

"Oh, not tonight," Nerea demurred, although she looked interested.

Turning to Qui-Gon, Bail continued, "And do you play any instruments, Master Jinn?"

"I studied flutes when I was young, but I haven't really kept it up."

"You should play more often, Master," Obi-Wan quietly offered. "I love listening to you."

Bail shot Obi-Wan an uneasy glance, then said to Qui-Gon, "I'd suggest you get up there as well, but I fear you will chose to decline as did Master Nerea. More's the pity. We shall just have to scheme to get you two up there another time."

"Only if both of you will join us," Nerea returned.

At the use of the first person plurals, master and apprentice mirrored each other in a frown, neither of them too pleased to suddenly find themselves appropriated into a couple with Nerea and Bail, but the other two didn't notice, chatting away discussing the merits of the musicians and the different styles of zohta. But the uncomfortable moment passed as they all listened to the music. Then the group on stage struck up a reel, and people around the room moved to the floor to dance. Bail looked expectantly at the masters. "So, are you two going to show me if all Jedi can dance well, or will I be left to believe it's just Obi-Wan?"

"Go right ahead," Qui-Gon offered. "Maybe later."

Bail quirked an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, who stifled a reluctant sigh and got to his feet. He didn't look too put out, however, as Bail slid his arms around Obi-Wan's waist and led him into the dance.

Qui-Gon watched the two young men thoughtfully. He really didn't have much more of a clue now than he had before about the exact nature of their relationship. They didn't act particularly affectionate with each other. The Prince's touch was more proprietary than anything else, and Obi-Wan seemed to endure it more than enjoy it. Then again, Qui-Gon's presence must surely be affecting both of them. He had nothing really to complain about in the Prince's behavior. He supposed it was probably normal, but Jedi tended not to be so territorial, and most laughable were Bail's attempts to defend his claim against Qui-Gon. He wondered how his padawan put up with such jealous behavior.

Then again.... Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan's hands slid lower on the Prince's hips, moving closer to him in the dance. He was definitely seeing a side of his padawan's personality that had previously remained hidden.

"An odd pair, those two," Nerea remarked, echoing Qui-Gon's thoughts. "Then again, it is rather common."

Qui-Gon blinked. "What is?"

"Padawans getting involved with senator's aides, diplomats, the kind of people we tend to work with on our missions. Isn't that how Obi- Wan met Senator Organa?"

"Yes."

"Don't think I've heard of a padawan dating an actual senator before, but then most senators are quite a bit older."

"I must be out of touch. I'm not familiar with padawan dating practices."

She studied him a moment. "Did you mean what you said earlier? About not taking on another padawan?"

"I did mean it, but I have learned never to say never. After all, I did not intend to take another padawan after Xanatos. But I rather think I've earned my retirement."

"Well, you've done a fine job with Obi-Wan. He'll be an excellent knight. And you've handled his padawan crush well."

Qui-Gon wasn't so sure about that. "It's not a crush," he said absently.

Nerea frowned. "If it's not, then why was he so jealous around me over the past week?"

"He was jealous," Qui-Gon confirmed, "but it's not a crush. It's more than that."

Nerea took a moment to absorb this, then dismissed, "He's too young to know what love is."

Qui-Gon only smiled. "He's not that young, Nerea. As you observed earlier, they do grow up. I trust the boy to know his own heart."

"He doesn't sound like a boy." She looked across the room, contemplating the subject of their discussion, then shook her head. "Wow. That must be...difficult." She returned her gaze to Qui-Gon. "How do you feel about that?"

"I feel that I am far too old for such a young man," he remarked.

"That's not a feeling, Qui-Gon, that's a thought."

He nodded reluctantly in concession, leaning his elbows on the table. "I love Obi-Wan. And I don't say that lightly. I had not realized how bitter I had become until Obi-Wan came into my life. He was a gift to me from the Force, a gift that to my shame I tried very hard not to receive. I want him to be happy. He deserves it."

"But you don't return his feelings."

Sighing, Qui-Gon rubbed his eyes. "It's not that simple. If I were thirty years younger, even twenty years, I might consider it, but...."

"Age matters not, as our dear Master Yoda would be the first to remind you."

Qui-Gon shot her a pointed glare. "In this case, it does. For all that Obi-Wan loves me, he is too insecure, and I am to blame for that, the way I treated him that first year. It took us years to overcome all the mistakes of our first six months together -- my mistakes."

Nerea shook her head in disbelief. "I had no idea. I've always heard that the two of you share one of the strongest master- apprentice bonds in the Order."

"That's because we had to work very hard to form that bond, and I will not do anything to jeopardize it. Obi-Wan is the kind of person who wants to love one person forever, and I've never desired such a commitment. He needs to find someone who will love him with the same passion he is capable of, someone who will not hold back from him, as I once did."

"And that person is Senator Organa?" Qui-Gon said nothing, and Nerea amended, "That person is not Senator Organa?"

"That is for Obi-Wan to say," Qui-Gon replied.

"But you do have an opinion?" Nerea prompted.

"I don't really know the Prince well enough to comment. But what I've seen tonight, this possessiveness on the Prince's part...."

"You don't like it."

"How closely do you follow the newsvids, Nerea? Organa has had an endless stream of lovers."

"Yes, but he has been with your apprentice for years now."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Obi-Wan never talks about him. If it's love, why doesn't he tell me? Why would he be jealous of you? I worry about him, Nerea. I want him to be happy, and... and I'm just not sure he is. I can't make him happy the way he wants, and I fear that the Prince can't either. Then again, maybe that's why Obi-Wan ties himself to Organa, so he can avoid dealing with the issue entirely."

"That seems a little harsh," Nerea remarked. "And anyway, you can't live his life for him. He has to choose for himself. Even if he makes the wrong choice, he'll learn."

"I know. I just wish he didn't have to get hurt along the way."

Nerea shot a glance at Obi-Wan, dancing close to the Prince. "Well, he doesn't look like he's in too much pain at the moment. I say he shouldn't get to have all the fun. Let's you and me show these young folk how it's done."

Qui-Gon smiled, grateful for her intervention. "You're right. That's one lesson I don't mind teaching." They moved onto the floor, forgetting about padawans and princes as they joined in the dancing.

Across the room, Obi-Wan, who hadn't even been aware that he had been keeping tabs on Qui-Gon, knew when the two masters left the table. He unconsciously sought them out among the other dancers, watching them move together. Rather chaste and subdued, as you would expect from two senior masters, and yet it was sweet, tender, and Obi-Wan coveted it more than anything else in the world, wished that he was the one in Qui-Gon's arms, the one Qui-Gon was smiling at, the one leaning against Qui-Gon's tall body. Just once, couldn't he dance with Qui-Gon? Even if they never danced again, even though he knew nothing could ever come of it, would it be so wrong for them to share one dance? He could ask it of Qui-Gon, and his master would grant it, he was sure. It would be such a little thing, a tiny concession that would mean nothing to anyone but him.

As the thought formed in his head, without even making a decision he turned toward Qui-Gon to approach him - but something caught around his waist. No, it didn't catch him. He was already being held and had forgotten about it until he moved. He was dancing with someone else. With Bail. His boyfriend. His lover.

He didn't want to let go of his fantasy, did not want to tear his eyes away from Qui-Gon, but he wasn't being fair. At last he understood why Bail had not wanted to come on this date. But he had come despite his suspicions, because Obi-Wan had asked him to. And this was how Obi-Wan treated him.

With a conscious effort, he dragged his eyes away from Qui-Gon and looked at Bail, the Prince's face so close to his own, and he saw his own desperate longing mirrored in those dark eyes. Bail had been watching him watch Qui-Gon, and understood full well what was in his heart. Is this how Obi-Wan looked to Qui-Gon? So pathetic, so loyal, so enduring? As he gazed at his reflection in those eyes he hated himself for loving Qui-Gon, for doing this to Bail. He wanted so much to change it, to let go of his love and give it to the Prince, to make the pain go away in Bail's eyes and fulfill that longing. He wanted it with all his mind, but his heart would not obey. Maybe this was indeed how Qui-Gon felt when he looked into Obi- Wan's eyes. There was nothing Obi-Wan could say or do to make it right, and in the end all he could say was, "I'm sorry."

It was pathetic, but honest, and Bail accepted the fact that Obi-Wan could say nothing else, appreciated that Obi-Wan refused to lie to him. Bail nodded and drew closer, resting his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder, face turned away from him, dancing with Obi-Wan because he knew Obi-Wan could not dance with the one he truly wanted.

Obi-Wan held the Prince, wrapping his arms tightly around him. There was one difference between their situation and his with Qui-Gon, he did love the Prince. Not the same way, of course, but he had not lied the other night. He did love him, and Bail was his boyfriend. This was the present moment, and Obi-Wan forced himself into it, running through the meditation on mindfulness, tearing his thoughts away from Qui-Gon and focusing them on Bail, the scent of his skin, the spread of Bail's hands across his back, the way their bodies fit together. He reviewed his memories of Bail, their experiences together, the pain of their recent fight, his despair when he thought Bail would not forgive him, the tenderness of their reconciliation. All those feelings were real, too, just as real as his feelings for Qui-Gon. He could be here, now. He could be present in this moment. Obi-Wan forced his steps into time with Bail's, breathed in the same rhythm, felt their hearts beating together, and it felt good, and finally he could say, again in total honesty, "I am glad you're here."

Bail raised his head, searching Obi-Wan's face, knowing he was telling the truth, yet still he needed more. He wanted to hear those three words, the ones he didn't trust, even now. When had this happened to him? Bail had never even wanted his lovers to actually love him before. It made the breakup so messy. But now, from this man, he needed it. Even though Obi-Wan had said it the other night, had made Bail believe it then, it wasn't enough. He needed to hear it again. Why? Why was he such a pathetic fool? Why couldn't he be content with what he had, which was already more than he had ever wanted in the first place? He didn't want to, but to his horror he found himself asking, "Do you love me?"

Something softened in Obi-Wan's face, something beautiful as his features melted into a fond, quirky smile. "I'm wearing your braid, aren't I?"

Bail shivered in Obi-Wan's arms. He had answered the question without using those treacherous words. But what had he really said? The braid wasn't truly Bail's at all, despite their conceit. It stood for the master, Bail's rival, Obi-Wan's real love - the master and the apprentice, not Bail and Obi-Wan and...and.... The braid was not his, anymore than was Obi-Wan's heart. They could pretend all they wanted, but it wasn't really true. Obi-Wan hadn't answered the question at all. Bail wanted something else, and yet he didn't understand what it was he wanted.

Desperately he buried his face in Obi-Wan's neck, clinging to him. Believe it, he told himself, believe he really loves you, because if you doubt it, your heart will break.

Obi-Wan held him, stroking his hair, pressing kisses to his temple, his cheek, hands on his back, soothing, stirring, arousing. Blindly Bail raised his head, seeking Obi-Wan's mouth, swallowing his kiss and being swallowed in return. They could let go of doubt, of unrequited love. This they knew how to do, this was familiar - sex, the act of love, the comfort of another body, of giving and being taken. Maybe it was what they wanted and maybe it wasn't, but it was satisfying in its own right.

Obi-Wan was kissing him the way he never did in public, and some tiny corner of Bail's mind crowed in triumph. Obi-Wan was kissing him like this, and in the presence of his master. That was something, wasn't it? Obi-Wan released his lips, taking his hand and leading him to a dark corner behind one of the game machines, not hidden but shielded from view, and he leaned back against the wall, pulling Bail tightly against him, kissing him again, wild and hot and feverish, and all thoughts of Jedi Masters burned up in this heat, and Bail pressed himself against Obi-Wan, moving, thrusting, feeling it build up inside him, consuming him.

Abruptly, firm hands seized his shoulders and pushed him away. Obi- Wan looked at him shaking his head, smiling wickedly. "Oh, no, your Highness," he cautioned, his voice thick with desire. "I'm not about to let you make me come in my pants."

"Haven't you ever wanted to make love in a public place?" Bail growled.

"Absolutely not!" Obi-Wan protested, then realization dawned on him. "Don't tell me you've actually...."

Bail answered him with a very naughty grin, his hands sliding down below the waistband of Obi-Wan's pants.

Obi-Wan caught his wrists. "No! Bail, for Force's sake, people can see us!"

"All right, then." He drew back, not letting go of Obi-Wan, and led him through the bar, back toward the restroom, mercifully unoccupied. Live in the moment, live in the moment. Let it consume you, let it devour you. Now!

He shoved the Jedi into the restroom and locked the door behind them, then launched himself at Obi-Wan, thudding into the wall. Mouths, skin, teeth, tongues. Hands fumbling with clothing, awkward in their sweaty eagerness, seeking openings, seeking entrance. Live in the moment, now -- now Obi-Wan was facing the wall, sucking on Bail's fingers, and Bail was getting himself ready, spitting into his hand, then pressing in, bucking into Obi-Wan, who braced himself against the wall, the moment building, filling them, burning them, yes, consumed, devoured - yes! - until the moment exploded within them, shredding them, dissolving them, until nothing was left except raw, sensitized nerves, lungs gasping desperately for breath, muscles trembling with the strain, only the wall preventing them from collapsing on the floor.

The floor of a public restroom.

Ick.

Not very sanitary. And they had done their part in making it so, hadn't they? Bail chuckled into the back of Obi-Wan's neck. He had done this kind of thing before, ages ago when he was still in school. He was really too old for this kind of nonsense, but Obi-Wan didn't need to know that.

The Jedi was pushing away from the wall, already reaching for a towel to clean himself off. He shook his head, an abashed smile on his lips. "I can not believe I let you fuck me in a public restroom - and while we're on a double date with my master!"

Bail couldn't believe it, either, and he laughed again, feeling reckless, giddy, ineffably happy. "I suppose it makes up for the fact that even though I'm your date, you're still in love with said master."

There, he'd said it, and it didn't really hurt. After all, Qui-Gon was not the one who had just screwed Obi-Wan into the wall. Obi-Wan, who was still smiling at him - at him, Bail - smiling and laughing. "I guess we're even, then?"

He'd said it, he'd actually said it. Shouldn't Bail be outraged? But he wasn't, not at all. He only laughed and pressed another kiss to Obi-Wan's lips. He didn't understand any of this, but he didn't care.

They cleaned up the room, wiped themselves off, washed their hands, straightened their clothes, all the time laughing, sneaking kisses and gropes, until they were presentable. Both of them knew their little tryst could hardly escape the notice of a Jedi Master, let alone two Jedi Masters. Both of them were more embarrassed than they cared to admit, but there was nothing they could do about it now, and what else should anyone expect, anyway?

Flushed, flustered, they exited the restroom, ignoring the line that had now formed, shamefaced but smiling, holding hands as they headed back to the main room. They sought out their table, but Qui-Gon found them first. The Master's face was the very picture of calm, but they both knew he knew.

"Obi-Wan, Nerea and I are going to head back to the Temple. It has been an enjoyable evening." Said in all sincerity.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan obediently replied, knowing he was blushing, and not really caring.

Beside him, Bail squeezed his hand. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Master Jinn. Give my regards to Master Barani."

"I will." Eyes shifted back to Obi-Wan. "I'll see you tomorrow, Padawan."

"Good night, Master."

With a final nod, Qui-Gon turned and walked away, joining Nerea at the door, and then they were gone.

Bail looked at Obi-Wan. "Was he angry?"

"No."

"Are you?"

Obi-Wan gathered the Prince in his arms. "No." He moved to kiss him, but Bail once more asked, "Are you happy?"

Now that question he could answer. "Yes. Are you?"

Bail smiled his answer, reaching up to finger the bead in Obi-Wan's braid.

"Your braid," Obi-Wan reminded him. "When I'm with you, it's your braid."

"The leash of lust," Bail added, and Obi-Wan kissed him, ignoring everyone else in the pub. For certain, it had been a strange date, and not one either of them particularly cared to repeat. But if it hadn't exactly resolved anything, it had established certain facts. Such as who was who's boyfriend. And who was not. Maybe that didn't really explain anything at all, but why did anything need to be explained? They knew who was going home with whom tonight. Maybe that meant something and maybe it didn't.

But it was a fact.

That was all anyone really needed to know.