Copper and Chestnut

by Merry Amelie

Title: Copper and Chestnut
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: PG
Summary: Autumn leaves.

I'm posting Arcadia and Q/O drabbles to TPM 100.

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 152
A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at the Master Apprentice ML.

My MA story page is here.

Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com.
Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.

For
My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol
Mali Wane for posting
My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue

Quinn and Ian's pile of leaves is in Arcadia #35, Autumn Rhapsody
Ian and Ginny's bonding is in Arcadia # 93, Diplomatic Relations

For Rabbit

"Whee!"

Lelia sang out happily when her uncles swung her above the leaf pile in the backyard, then gently let her drop into it. She laughed as she romped around, oak leaves already strewn through her blonde curls.

Quinn scooped up some more to throw on her clothes, while Ian jumped into the pile himself. Artoo and Sandy joined in the fun, yipping and circling them. The autumn breeze picked up, picking up leaves to swirl around the yard, as well.

Uncle Qui dove into the pile, and they started throwing leaves at each other with abandon. Lelia smushed a handful into Ian's hair, crumbling autumn into copper strands, an Arthur Rackham painting come to life. Quinn grinned when Ginny came out with her camera and started clicking away. He couldn't wait to see the pictures of his autumn prince in his leafy finery.

Ginny put the camera in her pocket, then held out her arms, which Lelia ran into happily. "Is my little girl ready for her bath now?"

"Yes, Memaw," she answered, cuddling into Ginny's shoulder. Lelia called both Jo and Kathy's mom 'grandma', but 'memaw' was reserved for Ginny. "Uncle Wan got me my favorite daisy bubble bath today."

Ginny carried her into the house, with Sandy and Artoo running after them, hoping for a treat.

Festooned with color from head to toe as they relaxed side by side, Ian and Quinn shared a private smile, their pile of leaves near The Wayfarers Inn never to be forgotten. Ian had found bits and pieces in intimate places for days afterwards, some only accessible with Quinn's enthusiastic help. But that had made the hunt all the more exhilarating.

Now that they were alone, there was no resisting a kiss. Quinn chuckled when leaves crackled between them, the crackles intensifying as they got into it. Here in their own backyard, it was even better than on a faraway bike path. Their leaves, their grass, their home. The kisses were indescribably tender: two men in their element. Quinn marveled anew at the sweetness of his laddie's lips, softer with each kiss. Luckily, Sandy's bark from the kitchen reminded them of their tenuous privacy.

Ian licked his lips in delight as he offered Quinn a hand up. They brushed each other off as much as possible, then headed to their bedroom and locked the door. Stripping down to their boxer-briefs, they shook the remaining leaves out of their clothes and began a delicious leaf-finding expedition along their nearly naked bodies.

Quinn reminded himself not to get too frisky, since their family was only a few feet away, but managed to enjoy himself nonetheless. His gaze turned playful when he found a leaf peeking out of the waistband of Ian's underwear. He reached in to grab it, incidentally brushing his lad's stomach with his fingers. Blue-green eyes shone happily at his intimate touch. He would have continued his quest for buried treasure if he had his lad all to himself. As it was, he contented himself with an occasional caress in their leaf hunt.

Understanding his husband's reticence, Ian resisted the urge to wriggle his hips and turn this into a treasure hunt. He kept his touches gentle, without the eroticism he longed to lavish on Quinn.

Surprisingly, a leaf tucked behind Ian's right ear was the hardest for Quinn to resist -- russet against Ian's red-gold hair, it was an invitation to more intimate leaf-jumping.

Ian caught Quinn's hand and kissed it, just before it could move to a hot spot on his neck. "Later, hot stuff." He threw Quinn his lumberjack shirt with a grin.

Quinn chuckled ruefully. "You know me so well."

They dressed quickly after that, eager to forestall temptation by joining their guests. When they walked into the living room, they saw Lelia nestled between Ginny and John on the couch. Her hair was still damp from her bath, and it stood up a bit like Ian's. The crackling fire John had kindled would soon take care of that.

They sat down on easy chairs across from their family and relaxed with the mugs of mulled cider John had left for them. Ginny's delectable spice cookies made a perfect match with the cider.

"So what are we bringing this year for Thanksgiving?" John asked, while patting Lelia's curls.

Ian's eyes gleamed as if he'd been awaiting this question all year. "How 'bout your wonderful biscuits?"

Quinn smiled indulgently, remembering last year when Ian was still eating turkey sandwiches made with those biscuits at school the Monday after the holiday. Freezing the leftovers made Thanksgiving really last.

"Of course," said a grinning Ginny. "And I'll get John to add the buttermilk. He always puts in the perfect amount."

John's smile was self-deprecating. "What can I say?"

Older memories surfaced for Quinn -- their first dinner at his parents' apartment, after his folks knew about his and Ian's true relationship. He'd been relieved to see Ian and his mom bonding over her delicious cooking, their first tentative step towards getting to know each other, with Ian as more than Quinn's best friend.

"I love your biscuits, too," Lelia said, hugging Ginny.

John looked at his watch and said, "We'd better go now. We promised to have Lelia home by her bedtime."

Lots of hugs later, they were alone at last. Ian and Quinn ambled to the couch for a cuddle. Ian's kiss was cider-sweet and Quinn drank him in with more delight than he ever had the cider. The trace of added spice left by the cookies increased their pleasure even more.

Ian snuggled into Quinn's side, cheek against his plaid shirt, soft from years of washing. He petted Quinn's stomach through thinning cotton, navy patches faded to the dusky blue of his husband's eyes in the firelight.

Quinn purred in contentment. He put his hand over Ian's, eclipsing it completely as he moved with his lad. Resting his cheek against spiky hair, he relaxed into the cushions. The motion of their fingers was hypnotic, with the fire completing the spell.

Ian drowsed beside him, his hand warming Quinn even through the flannel.

Quinn fell asleep to the sound of soft breathing.

Copper and chestnut hair blended together, luminous in the smoky glow of their fire.