Notes: Well, GrandMaster Amber asked for a picfic, Sheila
provided a much needed suggestion for what the heck it was that
Ewan was wearing, the plot bunny bit, and I, the ever obedient
padawan, responded :) Original photo can be found at:
http://ewanspotting.com/multimedia/gallery/random68.jpg No
betas, since this was dashed off spur of the moment, so read at
your own risk.
Summary: Obi-Wan is called upon for a rather unorthodox
assignment. Black leather. Strobe lights. And that darn sexy
slink.
Feedback: Heck, yeah.
"Five minutes before you're on, Padawan Kenobi, sir."
Obi-Wan nodded to the frazzled-looking production assistant as
she scurried off to attends to her duties. Then he resumed
pacing back and forth in his small dressing room with the
demeanor of a caged animal. He still couldn't quite believe he
was doing this. Whatever happened to the good old days, when
Jedi were constantly in demand? Back then, he bet, a capable
young apprentice such as himself would have been sent off to
fight evil warlords, save beautiful princesses, or work
undercover as a pleasure slave. Force, he'd even rather be an
ambassador on one of those boring trade dispute missions than
be stuck in his current position.
And a rather uncomfortable position it was getting to be, come
to think of it. He wriggled a bit and tugged at the cuffs of
his pants. Yes, there was some definite chafing going on here.
He suddenly wished that he hadn't been so quick to dismiss the
wardrobe coordinator when she'd come around with that
economy-sized bottle of baby powder. Jedi stoicism be damned.
This was not going to be pretty.
With a frown firmly marking his handsome features, he recalled
the Council meeting last week which had led to this horrible
situation.
"You called for me, Masters?" he'd asked respectfully.
"Yes, Padawan Kenobi, on a matter of utmost urgency. We are
indeed fortunate that you happen to be between assignments at
the present time -- you are the only one that can help us with
a very pressing matter," Master Windu had explained.
"I will serve the Council and the Order to the best of my
abilities, Masters, and am privileged that you think me worthy
of such an undertaking."
"Good... good," Master Mundi had mumbled. There had been
similar murmurs of approbation throughout the Council chamber.
Master Yoda nodded as well, obviously pleased with his
grand-padawan's answer. "Knew we could count on you, we did." A
beat of silence, and Obi-Wan found that all twelve pairs of
eyes (well, eleven pairs and one single, due to Master Piell's
unfortunate handicap, at any rate) were focused intently on
him.
"Now, take off your clothing for us you must."
It had gone rapidly downhill from there. A fund-raiser! They
had called him away from his studies, away from his important
Jedi training, for another one of their maddeningly bizarre
fund-raisers! A fashion show, they had said. They had
apparently been having trouble finding models of the right
sizes to fit into their featured apparel, so they'd started
going through the Temple database looking for any padawan,
knight, or master that had the right measurements to squeeze
into their fall clothing line.
Obi-Wan had slowly backed towards the chamber exit, hoping to
make a quick escape before this lunacy went any further.
Unfortunately, the Council had been prepared. He had obviously
not been the first one to have such a reaction. Master Kath and
Koon rose from their seats with uncanny speed and dragged him
back inside. Masters Gallia and Billaba quickly divested him of
all his clothing and Master Yaddle came shuffling forward with
a measuring tape. And with that, his fate had been sealed.
"You're up, Padawan Kenobi."
He started at the interruption, and once again nodded at the
production assistant. Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep
breath, he headed for the stage.
"And last, but certainly not least, ladies and gentlebeings,
the designers at the Jedi Temple at Coruscant proudly present
the jewel of their fall collection, the outfit that no highly
fashionable creature will be seen without this season, modeled
here by our very own luscious Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.... Sith
Sport!"
Strobe lights flared to life all around the darkened room, and
a spotlight appeared at the head of the runway. Loud techno
pounded from the THX-enhanced speakers stationed strategically
in the walls. Fog billowed from off-stage machines, partially
obscuring the catwalk and casting odd shadows in the flickering
light. The audience held its collective breath as Obi-Wan made
his entrance.
To call what the padawan was doing "walking" would have been
like calling Coruscant a backwater agricultural planet. He was
veritably slinking down the long platform, every motion
magnified by the supple black leather bodysuit.
"Yes, the Sith may be extinct, but good taste never goes out of
style. Cut from the finest womprat hides available, crafted
with skill by the most talented of Outer Rim leatherworkers,
and now available for a limited time exclusively from the Jedi
Temple at Coruscant..."
The matte dark material glowed under the lighting with a
diffused sheen, lines of shadow and reflection blending into
eachother to etch out the sleekly muscled form which melded so
seamlessly into its outer covering. The garment seemed to
caress his solid chest, embrace each tautly defined leg, and
cling to his firm round behind, leaving nothing to the
imagination.
"Whether you're planning for a bit of up-close-and-personal
role-playing, or an exciting evening on the town, the Sith
Sport onepiece will take you there in style."
Each prowling step took Obi-Wan closer to edge of the platform,
closer to the enthralled audience, filled with hundreds of
pairs of eyes soaking in every detail of his stunning, leather-
clad figure. Favoring his admirers with a sultry smirk, he
turned on one heel and stalked back up the runway. Reaching the
curtain, he gave the stunned spectators one last searing glance
before disappearing backstage.
The crowd went wild.
"Padawan..." A familiar, if slightly hoarse, voice greeted him
as he stepped out of the spotlight.
"Master?" Obi-Wan turned around to see the tall figure of
Qui-Gon Jinn approaching. "How did you know I was here?"
The Jedi Master blinked, so transfixed by the gorgeous sight
before him that he hadn't even registered what was coming out
of his apprentice's mouth. "Huh? Oh..." He held up a brightly
color flyer with the words "FASHION SHOW" in bold across the
top, followed by "Hot Padawan Ass On Display" in slightly
smaller letters below it. Filling up the rest of the page was a
surprisingly lewd photograph that Obi-Wan didn't even
remembered posing for.
Obi-Wan flushed a bright crimson, and stalked briskly back to
his dressing room. His master followed him at a clip. Once
inside, the younger man threw up his hands and started
muttering some rather derogatory things about the moral state
of the High Council. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder,
stopping him in mid-sentence. The rumbling voice next to his
ear caused his breath to catch.
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