Rating: PG (for reference to past and desired future m/m
activity)
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns them, Hasbro made them, I bought
them.
Archive: M/A if you really want to.
Waiting wasn't easy, despite what he'd said to his padawan
about patience so many times. If only he'd known how long he'd
have to wait; if only he had some kind of word; if only he
could stop thinking of him day and night. Particularly night.
Nights were the worst, as he was overcome by loneliness and a
longing that too many others were too willing to try to slake.
He could have lain with one of the Kens -- or with two: they'd
taken to offering themselves in pairs lately, arms draped
around each other's shoulders, all sweet smiles and slender
limbs and perfect skin. He'd have had to have been made of
stone not to have been at least a little tempted -- but their
blandly smiling china-blue eyes reminded him, endlessly, of
other blue eyes -- eyes that changed, eyes that sparkled
amusement or flashed defiance or burned passion. Yes, he could
have lain with one of the Kens, but he could never have loved
one, and a Jedi did not debase himself with loveless coupling.
The skin he wanted to touch was more beautiful to him, if less
flawless; burned by harsh suns and scarred from battles and
marked, in hidden ways, by his own hands, at times. He wondered
how long his padawan had carried the bruises from the last time
they'd been together. He wondered, for the thousandth time,
when he would see him, touch him, again.
When the box came, before it was even opened, the Kens
despaired; they knew any chance they might have had with him
was over. They knew it even before they saw him struggling to
free his padawan, gently undoing the restraints that held him
inside, finally taking his hand and leading him, still a little
stunned, out into the light. They knew it as soon as they saw
his eyes, deepest blue, reflecting those of his padawan; they
knew it when they saw the way the two touched, strength on
strength and yet utterly tender. The Kens sighed and retreated;
it wouldn't have mattered if they'd stayed, and they knew it.
They may as well have become invisible the moment that one
appeared.
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