This story is so not my fault. Blame it on Kirby who gladly
gave me the plot bunny. But it's ok because it was a fair
exchange. (Kirby got bugs....)
Portions of this story were conceptually inspired by the Sith
Academy. "Sith Academy. It Just Makes Sense!" Call your local
Sith representative today.
Feedback is welcomed at gila@jbx.com. Many thanks to Marnee for
betaing reading. None of the jokes are her fault. Whether
that's good or bad....
All relevant copyrights belong to their relevant owners. Hence
the name.
Summary: For those who thought the pod race was a silly way for
a Jedi to earn a quick buck.
Warnings: Nope. Not gonna tell you.
Rated: PG
May be archived at Master_Apprentice.
Qui-Gon went into Mos Espa with his apprentice and the Queen's
handmaiden. Jar Jar had lost the coin toss, and was under
strict orders to behave, not trip over anything, and donate
organs to pay for anything he damaged after he tripped anyhow.
Obi-Wan was happy to be going with his Master -- Qui- Gon could
feel the excitement bubbling inside. Or maybe it was the
in-flight lunch.
"We must be cautious," Qui-Gon warned his party. "Mos Espa is a
wretched hive of scum and villainy."
"That sounds cool," Obi-wan said. "Can I use that sometime?"
"No, Padawan." Qui-Gon tried to frown seriously. The vista
behind him was spreading out quite majestically and he knew
that if anyone looked over at him at that moment they would be
awed by the grandeur and drama of the moment.
"Look!" Obi-Wan suddenly bent down and picked something up. He
dusted it off and showed it to the Queen. Queen's handmaiden.
Whoever. She looked at it politely, but Qui-Gon saw her nose
wrinkle. "It feels funny. I wonder if it's alive?" Obi-Wan
continued, turning the small blue object over in his hands.
"I think it's Bantha poodoo, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said,
disappointed that his moment had been lost.
"Ick!" Obi-Wan dropped the object and wiped his hands on his
robe. Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.
"Now," Qui-Gon tried to re-establish direction for their
venture into town. "We must seek out a parts dealer." They had
reached the edge of town.
"Where shall we begin?" Padme asked, looking around. Again her
nose was wrinkling. Qui- Gon wondered if the girl ever got out
of the castle.
"That way," Obi-Wan pointed.
"How do you know?" she asked uncertainly.
"Because the Force tells me that is the way."
Qui-Gon cleared his throat and gave his apprentice a brief
glare. Force nothing, he had read the advertisements and street
signs as well as Obi-Wan. But he said nothing and Padme at
least looked a little impressed. They headed down the street
and began checking out window displays.
Finally they came upon a shop that seemed to have what they
were looking for.
"Qui-Gon, can I go next door while you're shopping?"
Qui-Gon looked to where his apprentice was pointing. It was a
bar. "We don't have time, Obi- Wan."
"Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon hid his satisfied smile. They actually had plenty of
time, but he so loved hearing his Padawan say 'yes, master' in
that soft, acquiescent tone of voice. He led the other two
inside the shop and found a young boy, fairly vibrating with
the Force, playing on the counter. The boy looked up at them.
"Can I help you?"
"We seek the grail. Are you he?" Qui-Gon found himself saying.
At the boy's confused look, he shook his head and tried again.
"We're looking for a part for our ship. Big ship, big part,
very important. Lots of money. Got one?"
"Lemme get Watto." The boy hopped down and ran into the back.
Qui-Gon nodded to himself, and glanced over his shoulder. Padme
was trying not to touch anything. Obi-Wan, on the other hand,
was squatting in front of a droid-like object and waving his
fingers in front of its face.
"Obi-Wan, stop that."
"I wasn't doing anything, Master."
"Don't touch anything." Qui-Gon reminded him, and turned his
attention to the flying bug that appeared to be in charge.
"Whaddya want?" the bug asked.
"We seek the gr- I mean, we need a part for our ship." Qui-Gon
held out the holo-projector and showed the bug a picture of the
ship.
"We got lotsa parts. We got parts for everything. What part you
need?"
"Umm...." Qui-Gon tried frantically to remember what the
engineer had said. "It's the... doohickey that goes here," he
finally pointed to a section of the ship. "It's long and has a
handle like this," he waved his hands, sketching in the air.
"And it beeps whenever we're about to blow up."
"Oh, yeah. Got one o' them, sure. But it's a lot of money and
I'm the only one in town who's got one."
"Really? Perhaps we should shop around first, and get a
comparison pricing." Qui-Gon shut the holo-projector off before
it could cycle into the next round of images, namely Obi-Wan
sans clothing in various suggestive positions.
"You don't need to look elsewhere," the shopkeeper bug said.
"We don't?"
"No, you don't," Watto repeated.
Qui-Gon found himself nodding. "We don't... fine, then, how
much?" He ignored Padme's whispering to Obi-Wan, as it sounded
vaguely like "don't break it!".
"How much you got on you?"
"5,000 credits."
Watto shook his head regretfully. "Won't be enough. Sure, you
can buy the part, but the labour? The warranty? Gonna cost you
extra."
"How much extra?"
"Hmmm." The bug thought it over. Behind him, the boy waved
discreetly to catch Qui-Gon's attention.
"Hey mister! Mister!"
Qui-Gon looked his way, pretending to listen to Watto as he
rattled off numbers.
"Can I ride in your ship, sir?"
Qui-Gon frowned. "We can't take you, you're a slave. True, you
seem very important somehow... but I can't just take you
without good reason."
Watto suddenly named a price and Qui-Gon gaped.
"But we don't have that much on us!"
"Then you'll have to sell your speeder, or something. There's a
pawn shop down the street."
"We don't have a speeder, either."
The boy suddenly ran up. "I have an idea! I could race my pod
racer tomorrow and you can sponsor me. If I win, you can take
the winnings and pay off Watto. You could also cheat at dice
and win me, as well! I'm a slave, you know."
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "Watto? How does that sound to you?"
But Watto was looking at something else with a very thoughtful
expression. "Nah. Pod racing's for kids. You want real money,
you gotta go for the grown-ups with cash." He looked at Qui-Gon
and grinned. "But I tell ya what. I like the looks of your
friend over there. If he'll dance for a private party I'm
having next door, I'll give you the parts, and labour.
You pay only the warranty and taxes."
"Jedi don't pay taxes." Qui-Gon frowned.
"So we pocket the difference, who's to know? What d'ya say? Is
it a deal?"
Qui-Gon looked at the boy who was staring up at him with huge
pleading eyes. Then he looked back at Obi-Wan, who was craning
his neck to see past a pile of junk. Pod race, or dance. "What
kind of party?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Strictly voyeuristic, I assure you. Nobody has to touch
nothing... unless you want them to. Tips are better that way
but, between you and me, those Hutts have kinda slimy mitts."
"Can I watch?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Sure! The more the merrier. Bring your queen, too."
Qui-Gon held out his hand. "It's a deal."
"Perfect! Hey, come on, no time to waste." Watto flew off
towards the bar next door. Qui-Gon gathered Obi-Wan and Padme
and herded them after the bug.
"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan asked, puzzled.
"We're trading service for the parts we need."
"What sort of service?" Padme asked with suspicion.
"Don't worry, your maj-- uh, Padme. Obi-Wan can handle it."
"I can?" Obi-Wan's eyes went wide. They went into the bar, and
saw Watto speaking to the bartender. There was a crowd of
revelers filling the joint, drinking and shouting and generally
having a good time. Obi-Wan started to grin enthusiastically.
"Do we get free drinks, too?"
"Padme and I do. You'll be working," Qui-Gon said.
Watto flew back and announced, "It's set! They're clearing the
floor. There's costumes in the back, feel free to pick out
anything."
"Huh?" Obi-Wan asked the bug.
"Costume! Hey, unless you wanna dance naked. That's fine by us.
Leave you no place to stick your tips, though."
"Dance?" Obi-Wan turned to his Master as the situation dawned
on him. "I'm going to dance?" he repeated in disbelief.
Qui-Gon shrugged. "It was that or sit through a pod race. I'd
rather watch you dance, Padawan."
Obi-Wan smiled very faintly. "Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon shivered. He loved that.
"What costume shall I wear?"
"How about something like those tights you wear for me? Those
black things, and a leather vest?" Qui-Gon suggested. Padme
suddenly looked very interested, and eyed Obi-Wan up and down,
obviously trying to imagine what might be under those robes.
Obi-Wan blushed. "Actually, Master... I have them on now."
"You what?" Qui-Gon felt his jaw drop.
"I put them on this morning. I was going to surprise you
later."
"You mean... you've been wearing them allday?"
Obi-Wan nodded.
Qui-Gon felt another shiver that went right to his cock and
stayed there. "Strip, and dance," he commanded.
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan gave a short bow, and headed towards the
side of the stage. Padme and Watto settled themselves at the
table front and center. Qui-Gon ordered drinks and joined them.
Obi-Wan was hanging up his robes, removing clothing to reveal a
skin-tight black T-shirt and tights. He left his boots on,
removed something from a robe pocket, and walked calmly over to
the stereo system. He inserted the disk and hit "play."
Qui-Gon recognised the music immediately and sat forward. It
began slowly, and quietly. The bar patrons were watching with
half-interest as Obi-Wan walked to the center of the stage in
slow rhythm. He swayed his hips once to the beat of the music
and Qui-Gon felt Padme's jaw drop. He pushed it gently back
into place.
For a moment there was nothing but the slow beat and Obi-Wan
swaying. Then he turned, the music sounded, and Obi-Wan began
to dance the flamenco.
The music poured forth, and Obi-Wan stamped his feet and
clapped his hands, turning and moving quickly and with surety.
There was no Force involved, Qui-Gon knew; this was raw
physical performance. Soon his Padawan began to glisten with
beads of sweat; Qui-Gon thought of licking him clean but
remained in his chair. Watto had not bargained for a free show.
Though if the patrons began throwing tips....
Obi-Wan continued to dance and the strumming guitar filled the
bar. Qui-Gon could feel the pounding rhythm in his chest and
his cock. He wasn't the only one -- the stirrings in the Force
and the smell of pheromones told him most of the other patrons
were entertaining thoughts of leaping to the stage and
wrestling Obi-Wan to the floor. Qui-Gon would have to be
on-guard against any over-enthusiasm if he wanted to keep his
apprentice to himself -- or at least unbruised.
The music came to a crescendo and Obi-Wan's body moved in
perfect time. Twisting, circling, nearly flying as he danced,
his entire body was thrown into the whirl of slapping beats. He
spun once more and stopped, completely still, and it wasn't
until a second later that anyone realised the music had ended.
The applause and rain of credits told Qui-Gon they would not be
leaving anytime soon. It was a good thing a Jedi trained for
stamina. Watto leaned over, smiling. "Looks like you'll be
getting top of the line merchandise."
The following day -- late, as both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had
slept in following a rigourous mattress-pounding induced by
Qui-Gon's enforced observation of his apprentice's dancing for
three hours -- the Jedi left their quarters to find out how the
repairs were going. Members of the ship's crew greeted Obi-Wan
with cheerful hellos, and requests if he would dance for them
on the trip out to Coruscant.
Qui-Gon went to find Watto. He found the bug supervising the
installation of a brand-new, Whomper-Domper Super 2000
doohickey. Watto flew over and greeted him heartily.
"Hey, Qui-Gon! They're still talking about Obi-Wan back in
town. You guys gonna be staying another night? We could pull in
the dough, split the tips 40/60!"
"I'm sorry, flying bug, but we have business to attend to.
Maybe next time."
"You sure? We could do a lunch show. Not the same kinda crowd
but hey, the way your boy moves it won't matter."
"I don't--" Qui-Gon stopped. Two figures were coming across the
desert towards the ship. Watto turned, squinted, then cursed.
"What is that boy doing here? He's supposed to be watching the
store!"
They waited until the boy and a young woman came up. The boy
was panting hard from tugging at the woman to hurry. He looked
up at Qui-Gon, big eyes pleading again.
"Yes?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Please, you've gotta take us with you. I'm supposed to be a
Jedi and a pilot and all sorts of neat stuff. I can't if I'm
just trained to be a store clerk."
Qui-Gon sighed. "We can't just pick up strays everywhere we
go." He heard a snort of amusement from his apprentice and
ignored it. Those bungabees had been cute, darnit, and
no one was going to convince him it had been a bad idea to
bring them to the Temple even if he had forgotten to bring a
hive for them to live in. Master Windu had eventually gotten
them out of his sock drawer, anyway.
"Please, mister? Please?" The boy clasped his hands together
and gazed up at him.
Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "Very well. I can foist you off on
Master George. He owes me a favour."
"Yipee!" the boy shouted.
Qui-Gon looked to Watto. "What do you want for the boy?"
"How about Obi-Wan for a week?"
"Just dancing?" Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed.
"Of course! What kinda bug do you think I am? Just dancing."
Qui-Gon considered it. He'd have to leave Obi-Wan here while
they went to rescue Naboo... but the child was strong in
the ways of the Force and Qui-Gon had a suspicion he ought to
take the kid along.
"What about my mom?" the boy asked.
"Oh, yeah... what about his mom?" Qui-Gon asked.
Tell ya what," Watto offered. "Make it two weeks, and I'll
throw in the mom."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Excellent. Hey, kid, go tell Obi-Wan to pack a
bag." Qui-Gon herded the boy towards the ramp and gave the
boy's mother a kind smile. She seemed perplexed, but shrugged
and headed after her son.
Obi-Wan took the news well.
"I what?!?"
"It's only for two weeks, Obi-Wan. You can stay out of trouble
for two weeks." Qui-Gon was trying to hustle his apprentice off
the ship so they could make preparations for taking off. He was
feeling a massive disturbance in the Force and wanted out of
there as quickly as possible.
"But two weeks? Master, I wanted to help save Naboo."
"You can help by staying here and dancing, Obi-Wan. Remember,
it is a Jedi's place to serve."
"I told R2D2 I'd show him around Coruscant," Obi-Wan pouted.
Qui-Gon wanted to grab that lower lip with his mouth and suck
on it, but knew such things would not get them on their way.
"You can waste time with your friends later, Obi-Wan. Right
now, I need you here."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon trembled. Beautiful.
"You'll be back in two weeks, won't you, Master?" Obi-Wan
finally let Qui-Gon hand him his bag and herd him towards the
ramp.
"Of course, Obi-Wan."
"You'll call this time if you're late?"
"I'll call!" Qui-Gon replied.
"You have a calling card?" Obi-Wan persisted.
"Er, not anymore. I'll call collect, all right?"
Obi-Wan frowned, but took a step down the ramp. "Two weeks,
Master."
"Yes, yes, Obi-Wan. You worry too much. It's just little
back-water Naboo. What can go wrong?"
Two weeks later, Obi-Wan was worried. His Master hadn't called,
hadn't sent word, hadn't shown up. He'd tried calling the
Temple but the receptionist just took messages and never put
his calls through. He was about to pack his bags and dance his
way off Tattooine.
Fortunately, two days later, Qui-Gon strode into Obi-Wan's
dressing room in the back of the bar.
"Master! Where have you been?" Obi-Wan reproached.
"Sorry, Obi-Wan. Post-mission reports, you know? Took longer
than I thought."
"You're all right? What happened? I heard on the news that
Naboo was freed and the Trade Federation was run out of the
system."
"Yes, yes, look I'll tell you all about it on the trip home.
I've missed you, Padawan."
Obi-Wan smiled. "I've missed you, too, Master." He raised
himself up on his toes and gave his Master a light peck on the
lips. "But what happened?"
"Oh, the usual. We snuck in, gathered the locals into an army,
attacked the bad guys, freed the Nabooans. Nabooians?
Nabooites? Whatever. Typical stuff. Nothing you'd make a movie
about."
"Then why are you worried?" Obi-Wan could feel his Master's
preoccupation. He could feel his Master's body, too, pressed up
against his, but that would have to wait. Obi-Wan was exhausted
from that afternoon's performance.
"Well, the Jedi Soothsayers foresaw a battle with a Sith. But
one never showed up. We don't know what happened."
"Oh." Obi-Wan giggled. "I know what happened. Come on." He took
his Master's hand and led him towards the public area of the
bar. He stopped near the door, and pointed to a red-faced horny
figure sitting at a corner table.
"That's him?"
"That's him. He's been watching me dance every afternoon and
night, for the last two weeks."
Obi-Wan grinned as his Master stared at the Sith. The dark
apprentice was wearing his tight black pants and a t-shirt
which read, "My Master Took Over the Senate and All I Got Was
This Lousy T- Shirt". He'd been worth a lot of extra tips --
apparently the dark side paid better than the light.
"Huh," was all Qui-Gon said.
"So are we going?" Obi-Wan finally prodded his Master.
"Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Come on, Obi-Wan."
On the way back to the ship, Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon his plans.
"When I pass my trials next year I'm going to take a few months
off. Watto wants me to come back and dance. I could make a lot
of money." Qui-Gon gave him a disapproving look, and Obi-Wan
continued hurriedly. "Not for my own profit, of course, Master.
But my little brother wants to move to Tattooine and start a
moisture farm. I though this would be a good way for Owen and I
to spend some time together. We've never really had a chance to
bond, you know, what with me leaving to become a Jedi at such a
young age. And you can't really get to know someone at family
reunions. But he can dance too, and we thought we'd work for a
while and raise the money so he could buy a farm."
"You've already talked to him?"
"Oh, yeah. His fiancee thinks it's a stupid idea, but we're
going to do it anyway. She wants a farm, too, so I think she'll
come around. Watto already has us booked."
"I see." Qui-Gon sounded thoughtful. Then, "You'd need a
manager."
"Oh, uh..." Obi-Wan squirmed, then said carefully, "Master, no
offence but you're not very good with money. And Master Yoda
already kinda asked if he could. He can play the finger
cymbals, you know. We thought we'd dance to live music
sometimes if we can find a guitarist."
"I see." Qui-Gon said quietly.
"Would you like to be our bouncer?" Obi-Wan suggested.
Qui-Gon slowly smiled. "Could I?"
Obi-Wan returned the smile. "Yes, Master." He hid a grin of
triumph as his master reacted. If Qui-Gon only knew how easily
he was wrapped around Obi-Wan's finger with a mere two
words....
As they boarded the ship, Qui-Gon called out to the pilot they
were ready, and began eagerly removing his apprentice's
clothing. Obi-Wan tried to fend him off long enough to close
the ramp and door.
As they lay in a tangled heap on the floor just inside the
hatchway, Qui-Gon said sleepily, "You know, I've been thinking
of getting a theme song."
"A theme song, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, equally sleepy. His head
was pillowed on their piled robes, and his leg was slung over
his Master's.
"Yeah. Wanna hear?" Without waiting for a response Qui-Gon
began to sing. "I'm Qui-Gon the Mighty, master of piety, with
Obi-Wan my sidekick, fighting with his lighted stick. We use
the Force, it's everywhere, so Evil Siths had best beware!"
Obi-Wan buried his face in his Master's chest... and bit.
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