Sloshed Masters, Innocent Padawans and Finger Food

by Raina and Leandra

Archive: yes please, M_A; nuttersinc (elsewhere ask for distribution)

Paring: Q/O

Category: Humor, Qui/Obi

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: We would love to own Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn. Sadly they belong to Master George.

Summary: The Title is program.

Thanks to: Crystal for beta-reading and doing a wonderful job! You rock, girl! Lwyn'nya Kenobi, for she inspired this story with her own: "Two Jedi walked into a bar". You can find it on "Jedi Apprentice Desktop Central" . "Sloshed Masters..." is our own take on what happens, if two Jedi walked into a bar..., Thanks to the Irish Pub "Charlie P´s" too... I think this story would have never been written, if Raina and me hadn´t paid a visit to Charlie P´s one Saturday night. The atmosphere (and menu) was really inspiring!

Qui-Gon Jinn sighed and dropped onto the couch in the quarters he shared with his 23-year old Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Master?" an investigating voice asked as his Padawan knelt in front of him, staring up at him, concerned.

Qui-Gon's face lit up a bit, when he saw the concern in his Padawan's gaze. "Everything's alright, Obi-Wan. I'm just tired and exhausted. We just returned from our 15th mission in a row, and not an easy one, and all we've been doing since we got back three days ago is writing reports, filling forms, and answering pointless questions."

Obi-Wan nodded, then stood up and seated himself next to his Master, stretching his aching legs in front of him. It felt like his whole body was covered in bruises, but he knew that none were there. The "negotiations" had turned out to be aggressive, once more. Inwardly he sighed. It seemed like every time he and Qui-Gon were assigned for an "easy" observation of some kind of negotiation, the mission turned out to be not quite what they had expected.

"We should take a break." Qui-Gon observed while he rubbed his shoulder, where a stray blaster shot had burned his skin.

"A BREAK?!"

The astonishment in Obi-Wan's voice wasn't to be missed.

"Yes, a break. You know…" his Master turned to him, his gaze suddenly warm "…spare time. To amuse ourselves. You're familiar with the concept, I assume."

"Amuse ourselves…" Obi-Wan mumbled. The words tasted strange and foreign on his tongue. He was remotely familiar with the concept, yes, but until now, he hadn't been sure if Qui-Gon was. "Amuse… but, Master…?"

Qui-Gon had lifted himself from the couch and stopped the words he knew would immediately fly from his apprentice's mouth, with a rough wave of his hand. "Enough, Obi-Wan." he said sternly.

"We leave in 15 minutes. Maybe you should take a shower. You smell like a Bantha, if I might say so. Your foul smell might become a real obstacle for this kind of mission."

Obi-Wan blushed, and then raised his arms and sniffled. He grimaced, for his Master was right. As always.

He went into the fresher, but a few seconds later, he poked his head out and sniffed in the direction of his Master, "You know, Master, a wise man takes his own advice..." He ducked back into the fresher, narrowly avoiding the pillow Qui-Gon threw at his grinning face.

"You want to go in THERE?" Obi-Wan asked in disbelief and pointed at the entrance of the shabby, worn-down hole in the wall of a night- club they were standing in front of.

Qui-Gon turned his head and watched his apprentice with a twinkle in his eyes. It seemed like the fun was about to begin. "Of course I want to go in THERE. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." "Master…" he started, but was cut short by Qui-Gon's hand movement once again.

Qui-Gon entered the bar and Obi-Wan decided to follow him, wrinkling his forehead in confusion. What kind of lesson was this? He knew that his Master had some unorthodox training methods, but dragging him to a nightclub? Well, he might as well go along with it. His experience with the underworld was limited, maybe his Master only wanted to give him a glance of the depths of immorality of the underworld soul. Obi-Wan grinned. Maybe this would be interesting after all.

Qui-Gon sat down on a bar stool and indicated his Padawan to take a seat next to him. Obi-Wan obeyed, still wondering how he was going to amuse himself in such company. The people around them were loud and noisy, most of them scantly clad. The smell of smoke and alcohol and body scents hung thick in the air. The whole place made the impression of a once grand nightclub that had been open to the scum of the Universe for 20 years without ever seeing soap, fresh air, or daylight. In short, it was perfect. When he finished his observation, he turned around to find his Master ordering a drink.

"One Correllian whiskey for me… " He turned to Obi-Wan. "What do you want?"

The shock on Obi-Wan's face amused him. His Padawan turned crimson, then tried to regain his composure and answered in a calm manner: "I don't drink, Master. You should know that by now."

"Of course you drink." Qui-Gon said with a determined voice, which Obi-Wan knew to well, a voice not easily contradicted. He raised his hand sighing and indicated the bartender to make it two Correllian whiskeys.

Obi-Wan swallowed. As Padawan, Obi-Wan knew he should not question the motives of his Master, but he wondered if maybe the exhausting missions had taken their toll on his Masters mental health.

"Drink!" Qui-Gon ordered and Obi-Wan took the glass offered to him and obeyed. He gulped down the light-blue contents in disgust, and then sputtered and coughed, when the burning liquid hit his throat.

Qui-Gon padded his shoulder and grinned smugly. Obi-Wan tried to ignore the burning in his guts and the impulse to throw it all up. His eyes started to water and his head felt like it would explode in an instant. He registered that Qui-Gon giggled and made a mental note, that he never heard his Master giggle before. Obi-Wan couldn't help the feeling that Qui-Gon was enjoying himself very much at his Padawan's expense.

"You know, Master, if you came here just to watch me cough up liquid, you might as well have taken me and tried to drown my head in the sink.I It would have been simpler." he said, his voice still shaky and unsteady from the consumed alcohol.

Qui-Gon observed the purple face of his Padawan and smiled, satisfied. "I'll keep that in mind for the next time. Now relax." he said calmly. "I think you need one more..." and he turned to the bartender to order another set of whiskeys.

"No... no… I'm relaxed enough…" Obi-Wan protested and was caught in another fit of coughs.

Qui-Gon placed a glass in his hand and raised his own to Obi- Wan. "Cheers!" he said quite cheerfully and downed the glass.

Obi-Wan sighed. He might as well resign himself to his fate. He knew Qui-Gon too well to think any amount of protesting would help him out of this. Fatalism taking over, he raised his glass. "Cheers…" he coughed, then mimicked his Master's actions. The liquid burned down his throat again, but this time he was prepared. His face still felt flushed and overheated, but his stomach didn't revolt this time.

"See?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan nodded, swallowed the rest of the liquid still lingering in his mouth with closed eyes and then coughed: "Yes…" This was going to be a long night.

Qui-Gon watched the slightly swaying young man at his side. It had been their 7th round of Correllian whiskeys and he could tell that his apprentice had really gotten into this. Obi-Wan was busy studying the cocktail menu, trying to focus his quite unfocused gaze on the sheet in front of him.

"Tequila from Alderaan." Obi-Wan said, his voice a little unsteady. "I might try that."

Qui-Gon nodded and ordered two Tequilas for each of them. When the drink arrived, Obi-Wan looked at it, puzzled, then fixed his questioning eyes on Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon sighed. "You drink it this way. Watch. First you lick the place on the back of your hand, where thumb and forefinger meet... like this." He licked, then looked at Obi-Wan, who watched him, wrinkling his forehead in confusion.

"Then you take the salt and put some of it on the wet spot. You lick the salt, down the drink and then you suck on the lime. Like this."

He followed his own instruction and grimaced when he bit in the sour lime.

Obi-Wan nodded, his face lighting up a little.

"Now it's your turn." Qui-Gon said, placing the sucked lime on the bar in front of him and leaned back to watch his apprentice.

Obi-Wan took the salt and then looked up at him as if to ask for permission. Qui-Gon nodded approvingly.

Obi-Wan lifted his hand and his pink tongue darted out to lick an appropriate spot on the back of his hand. Qui-Gon caught himself staring fascinated at said pink tongue and wrinkled his forehead. He tried to shake the image of Obi-Wan's tongue out of his mind, only to observe the same action again, as Obi-Wan licked the salt off his skin. A shudder went straight down his spine and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Still, he couldn't keep his eyes from watching Obi-Wan.

His apprentice had downed his drink in one swift motion and now grabbed the lime hastily. Full lips enclosed the lime and sucked on it fiercely. The sight before him shot heat to Qui-Gon´s groin and he dropped his gaze to his lap, starring down at it in sheer disbelief. What the Sith?

"That was great!" his apprentice said enthusiastically and Qui-Gon tried to regain composure, looking up at the flushed face of his apprentice. He swallowed soundly, noticing for what might be the first time that Obi-Wan was indeed beautiful, a fact that had been discussed all over the temple before, if he could remember correctly. His cheeks were flushed, his green-blue eyes sparkled, and a contented grin was plastered over his face. Obi-Wan grabbed for the salt again and prepared himself to down the second drink. `Oh no!' Qui-Gon growled inwardly and tried to avert his eyes, a task he found was too hard to manage. He gazed out from behind his own hand covering his eyes and winced, watching the small scene in front of him. `How could someone so innocent look so erotic?' he asked himself, then clasped his hand in front of his eyes, when Obi-Wan sucked on the lime in between his lips.

"Master?" a comforting hand was laid on his shoulder and he flinched. His face had to be crimson at this time and he only hoped Obi-Wan thought it came from the alcohol. "You feel all right? If you don't want that second drink, I would…"

"NO." Qui-Gon growled, a little louder, than intended and padded Obi- Wan's hand away. He grabbed for the Tequila and downed it not very ceremonially.

"If you don't want the lime, I …"

Qui-Gon ripped the lime out of Obi-Wan's hand and bit down on it hard.

"Can we order another? I really enjoyed…"

Qui-Gon involuntary spat out the lime in a high angle. "NO!" he barked, and then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic.

Obi-Wan was staring at him in shock and his eyes softened. "You had enough, Obi-Wan." he continued more calmly and took some deep breaths to release his confusion and inappropriate arousal into the Force.

"Why don't you eat something to get some of the alcohol out of your system?" he suggested.

Obi-Wan tilted his head as if to consider the suggestion for a moment, then nodded and grinned. "What a great idea, Master!" He turned to study the menu again and Qui-Gon sighed, rather content with himself. He had averted the dangerous situation with bravado. But at the same moment, he had a really bad feeling about this.

Qui-Gon groaned inwardly. If there was such a thing as hell for Jedi, he was in it. He watched his Padawan eating spare ribs, going through an interesting cocktail of emotions. Arousal, fascination, disgust, shame, and embarrassment battled for supremacy and his rapidly eroding self-control was hard-pressed to keep his raging emotions in line.

If somebody had asked him, he would have finger food forbidden. Obi- Wan licked his fingers again, and Qui-Gon flinched. Of all the Sith- accursed foods in the Galaxy, why did it have to be spare ribs? And why did Obi-Wan insist on putting the bones into his mouth and lick off the sauce after tearing off the meat?

Qui-Gon tried to concentrate on other things, stifling his by now pressing arousal with sheer will of someone very desperate. Obi-Wan stopped sucking in one of the bones and held another out to his Master, his fingers glistering with oil.

"You want some?" he asked innocently.

Qui-Gon shook his head, trying to get rid of a very unbidden fantasy where he ate the offered food out of his apprentice's hands. Instead he ordered another Correllian whiskey. "Forbidden fruits..." he muttered under his breath.

He downed his drink in a swift movement, hoping it would distract him from Obi-Wan for a moment. What the Sith was wrong with him? Was it the alcohol? Had somebody drugged him? Why did he suddenly have very un-Master like, though very interesting, thoughts of his Padawan? It wasn't only ragingly inappropriate, it was also really sick. Of course Obi-Wan was a really attractive young man, sexy in an innocent way, and very, very tempting... Get a grip, Jinn, the boy is your Padawan, you practically raised him, he screamed at himself.

"Master? You sure don't want some? You look kind of pale…" Obi-Wan observed and laid the last bone aside to lick his fingers clean thoroughly.

Qui-Gon shook his head. The little imp had no idea what he really wanted at the moment. And thank the Force for that. How could anybody be that innocent? Yeah he definitely wanted "some"… he thought, and then bit his tongue hard. Get a grip, he reminded himself.

As if that was so easy. Obi-Wan swirled his tongue around his index finger, popped it inside his mouth and sucked the meaty juice of it, like he had done with the bones before. Qui-Gon shuddered again and desperately turned his attention to the barkeeper. "Another… oh well… just keep them coming..." he groaned.

Obi-Wan looked at his Master, his frown deepening, his chin dripping with sauce. Qui-Gon followed a drop of sauce from his Padawan's lush mouth to his chin, fantasizing how it would be to follow the path of that drop with his tongue... Resolutely, he grabbed a napkin and wiped Obi-Wan's chin clean. That was the last thing he needed now.

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon and blinked. Had his Master just cleaned his face as if he was a 3 years old? "You know, Master, I'm not a child anymore..." he stated, then licked his lips clean.

I can see that… He was ready to face any kind of punishment, just to escape this siren of a Padawan. The barkeeper placed a plate with corn on the cob in front of Obi- Wan and Qui-Gon observed it with disgust.

"Haven't you enough food yet?" he asked, barely able to hide his anger. Obi-Wan shot him a long look, then reached for the corn. "Master, you always tell me I should eat more. Be glad… Today I'm really insatiable." With that he sank his teeth into the food.

For a moment he watched the perfectly white teeth of his Padawan nibble on the side of the corn, then he fled.

"Sith!" he cursed and paced up and down in front of the mirror in the men's bathroom. He looked at himself, saw the distressed expression in his eyes, and frowned. He would give him more alcohol. Yes. He would intoxicate him, so that he would fall over and he was freed of the sight of perfectly white teeth nibbling on corn cobs or limes being sucked into that luscious mouth or… He straightened his clothes and tried to keep a façade of serenity. "Down. Down!" he bellowed to the disobedient organ he had struggled with the whole evening. He would not give into his desires. It was absurd.

He returned from the bathroom, forcibly wrapping a sense of calm himself. He would stop this now. He would not give into this totally inappropriate sensation again. He would just get sloshed. And he would get his Padawan sloshed. Nobody looked sexy after a certain amount of alcohol. But as soon as he was seated at the bar and took one look at Obi-Wan, he knew how bloody wrong he was. His Padawan was highly intoxicated, a dazed expression making his beautiful eyes look husky and warm, the color of his cheeks a hazy red, and he was absently rolling a cocktail cherry on his tongue.

Absently! Qui-Gon snorted and grabbed one of the drinks the bartender had placed in front of him. Absently!

'Bastard' Qui-Gon thought. As if he was doing it on purpose, this tempting imp. But he knew Obi-Wan too well to seriously consider that. Obi-Wan, caught in happy alcoholic oblivion, merely grinned at his Master, "Look, I ordered you a drink." He pushed a large glass with a greenish liquid towards the older man and nodded in encouragement, "Try it, it's really good." Qui-Gon grabbed the drink and started to gulp it down when Obi-Wan suddenly took the cherry out of his mouth, "You know, this tastes good." he licked his lips. Qui-Gon spat out his drink and started to cough violently. How did he manage to say and do things like that all the time? If this evening carried on much longer, Qui-Gon was sure one of them would get seriously hurt.

Qui-Gon tried to place the glass back on the bar with shaky hands. He made the mistake to take a side-glance at his Padawan, who had put the cherry back into this mouth and started to roll it around again. The glass slipped in his hands and he spilled his drink, all over Obi-Wan. Could this get any worse? His question was answered with a screaming yes when he noticed Obi- Wan's shirt was wet and clinging to his chest seductively, outlining every curve and every muscle on his Padawan's upper body. The yes turned even louder when Obi-Wan started to remove his shirt, peeling the wet fabric off his smooth chest.

Qui-Gon reached out to prevent his Padawan from taking off his shirt completely and made the next mistake. His fingertips brushed the soft skin of his Padawans torso and he drew his hand back, as if it had been caught in a power coupling.

Qui-Gon's mouth went very dry. "Padawan, why are you removing your shirt in public?" Obi-Wan looked at him, all innocent intoxicated bewilderment, "Well, Master, you spilled your drink on it, and it's wet. Isn't that a good reason to remove one's shirt?" Qui-Gon could only nod and think `One of the many good reasons.' He gripped the bar in front of him for support when Obi-Wan started to clean the liquid off his chest with a napkin and Qui-Gon had to watch bare naked skin being caressed by a piece of cloth. He hated that piece of cloth. He wanted to be that piece of cloth. He shook his head. Now it was official. He was going crazy. He envied a piece of cloth, for Force's sake, he needed to end this now. Obi-Wan put on his shirt again, and leaned on his Master's thigh for support, for a second when he swayed in his seat. The touch sent a bolt of fire to Qui-Gon´s groin and he shifted away from Obi-Wan, trying to get as far away from his tempting Padawan, as he could. He overestimated his own balance. With a loud thud he hit the floor next to his stool, taking a very surprised Padawan down with him.

Qui-Gon didn't dare to open his eyes. A heavy – although welcomed – weight pinned him down to the floor. He didn't dare to take a breath. His emotions whirled through him, the physical contact making him nearly numb, but driving him insane at the same time. The weight shifted a little and as he opened his eyes, the beautiful ones of his Padawan were a mere inches in front of his face, blinking down at him concerned.

"Master…, you alright?" Obi-Wan slurred. Qui-Gon could feel the warm, wet breath of his Padawan on his face and he wanted to scream, to shout at him, to punish him for what he was doing to him. And he wanted nothing more than to grab Obi-Wan and pull him down to take what seemed like a Force's gift. Instead, a bubbling, bitter laughter escaped his throat.

"Master? Master!" Obi-Wan tried to shake the alcohol out of his system. His master was writhing under him, screaming, giggling, and laughing hysterically. With much effort, he managed to crawl on all fours, evoking hysterical laughter from his Master.

"Master?!" Said Master rolled on the floor clutching his chest, laughing like mad.

Somehow Obi-Wan had managed to drag his still laughing Master back to the Temple. He staggered along with Qui-Gon hanging on his shoulder, who grabbed his skin so hard, it nearly hurt. More than one time they had made an involuntary excursion on the side of the pavement, Qui- Gon swaying so fiercely, that he had brought down Obi-Wan with him. The fear for his Master had made Obi-Wan sober in an instant. He still felt very shaky on his feet, but it could've also been a result of the heavy weight of the tall man leaning on him. Finally, they had entered the lift up to the Healer's Ward. Obi-Wan had to lean against the wall, and brushed the hair of Qui-Gon, who leaned on his shoulder, out of his face. His Master had finally stopped to laugh, but every now and then a low giggle escaped his throat.

"Obbi-WWWwwwann." Qui-Gon slurred and Obi-Wan lifted his Master's chin from his shoulder, where he drooled into his tunic.

"Master, everything will be fine. I'm taking you to the healers. They will take care of you. You will be well soon."

The Master's eye lost focus again and his head slumped down again. "No healers…" he mumbled near Obi-Wan's throat.

Obi-Wan sighed: "Master, I think you had too much of that Correllian Whiskey. I knew it was a bad idea to go to that nightclub."

"Bed…" Qui-Gon whined.

"Yes, Master. I will bring you to bed. But first we need to visit the healers." he sighed impatiently.

Qui-Gon slipped away and Obi-Wan was actually grateful for the unconsciousness of his Master. The whole evening had been a disaster. Of course, the sheer notion of Qui-Gon Jinn getting drunk spelled out disaster from the start. The laws of logic and the workings of the universe seemed averse to the sheer notion of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan enjoying themselves without incident, it seemed.

For this preconception, the evening had started well enough. It had all started to go weird with the Tequila. Maybe Qui-Gon had a chemical reaction to the lime. He had spit it out, after all. He had even refused to eat anything when Obi-Wan had offered to share his spare ribs, though he had certainly looked very hungry. The corn on the cob must have made Qui-Gon sick because he fled to the bathroom while Obi-Wan was eating it.

And then there was the whole drink spilling. Qui-Gon was never clumsy; it must have been the alcohol that had distorted his perception. But for the ensuing incident that had landed both of them on the floor and had incited Qui-Gon's rather unusual outbreak, Obi-Wan had no immediate explanation. Maybe his Master was sick. Maybe someone had drugged him, putting something into his drink.

He heaved Qui-Gon's heavy body out of the lift and was immediately assisted by two apprentice healers, who looked at the pair with barely concealed curiosity. Obi-Wan gave them a stern look and asked them to fetch the Master Healer on duty immediately. With the assistance of one of the apprentices, he carried Qui-Gon Jinn to the next vacant room and laid him down on an examination table. As the apprentice left, he lowered his drowsy Master down to the bed and knelt down beside him. Qui-Gon reached up and clumsily tried to grab his Padawan's braid. His hand fell back and he murmured, consciousness rapidly fleeing him, something of which Obi-Wan only understood the words, "Love" and "Padawan". He patted his Master's head, "Shh, I love you too, Master." he said in a tone usually used to calm down infants.

He watched his Master drift off to sleep and sighed heavily. Next time Qui-Gon wanted to amuse himself, Obi-Wan would make sure they would not leave their quarters. Over the last few years, Obi-Wan had actually thought maybe one or two times about amusing himself together with his Master. Only that his opinion of amusement obviously differed slightly from Qui-Gon´s, lacking great amounts of alcohol, a seedy bar, and a very sloshed Master.

Instead it lacked clothing completely.

FIN