Master Apprentice Archive Jedi Don't Cruise Quick search:

Rating: PG-13

Archive: M-A, Left of Center: http://www.geocities.com/padawanhilary/index.html

Series: no

Categories: Q/O, PWP

Feedback: Yes, please. padawanhilary@gonwan.com

Summary: Qui-Gon goes "looking," and Obi-Wan takes it personally.

Spoilers/Warnings: none

Disclaimers: Someday I intend to use my own beloved, beautiful characters to write for fame, fortune and glory. Today is not that day.

This is so unbeta'ed it's not funny. I mean, I typed this right into the email window.

Notes: Kalu's challenge was issued thusly: Let's have fun with the phrase "Jedi don't cruise." ;)

And was answered thusly:

"Master, what are you doing?"

Qui-Gon's gaze shifted about. "I'm examining the populace for signs of unrest. We did, after all, just close a very unpopular negotiation."

Obi-Wan knew better. The street was crowded and noisy even in the middle of the night, but Obi-Wan did not believe for a second that his master was so preoccupied with the political implications of their work here.

"Master, what are you doing?" he reiterated, striding alongside Qui-Gon as they moved quickly down the main thoroughfare of Ritaxia.

"I'm trolling," Qui-Gon muttered, almost inaudibly, shielding from the bond and trying not to think of his padawan.

"Excuse me?" Obi-Wan asked, incredulous.

The master stopped cold. "I'm looking for a date, Obi-Wan," he sighed miserably. "I'm searching for a companion. I'm cruising. I've been lonely for eighteen months. I'm bored, I miss having a lover, I want sex again. Are you contented, or shall I redefine it for you?" He winced inwardly at his sharpness, but his expression did not change.

Obi-Wan pulled back, stung. "That's sufficient, Master," he ground out. He could understand sexual frustration-- Force knew he'd experienced it enough-- but damned if he was going to let Qui-Gon take it out on him.

"I think I shall head back to our quarters now," the padawan muttered, couching his irritation and hurt. He turned on his heel and left his master standing in the street, equally confounded.

Obi-Wan strode quickly through the still-crowded side street back to their quarters, cursing himself. /If you'd just told him.../ he admonished himself, but he knew it was useless. He'd wanted his master for months, but that didn't guarantee that his master wanted *him,* and he sure as hell wasn't going to allow Qui-Gon to use him to assuage some latent sexual desire for another Jedi.

"Jedi don't 'cruise,'" he muttered to himself petulantly as he reached their room, swinging the archaic door open and then slamming it shut with a satisfactory bang.

"Jedi don't 'troll.' We don't 'search' and we don't 'look.'" Flopping onto a bed unceremoniously, still fully-clothed, he let himself sink into a very deep pout, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We just sit here pining for masters who pine for other masters."

Petulantly, he rolled over and tugged his robe around him. "We talk to ourselves in empty reserved rooms and wish the damned Jedi in question would--"

He stopped short as the damned Jedi in question burst into the room.

"What was that about, Padawan?" Qui-Gon demanded, closing the door behind him. "Leaving me in the street." The behavior was highly objectionable, Qui-Gon thought; he had no clue what his padawan was on about rendering himself so moody like that.

Obi-Wan sat up on the bed. "I assumed, Master," he said archly, "that you would prefer to be left alone with your thoughts. It seemed you were quite distressed, and I myself was bothered by it, so I thought it would be best to allow you time to work it through." He was quite proud of the steadiness of his voice.

Sinking to the bed across from his apprentice, Qui-Gon sighed. What had he been thinking? His sexual difficulties were definitely not his padawan's problem, even if the problem itself centered around the padawan himself. Qui-Gon met Obi-Wan's gaze calmly, shielding his want.

"My apologies, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, inexplicably looking at his hands.

"It's all right, Master," Obi-Wan murmured, facing the bed on which his master sat. "But isn't it something you might have... released by now?"

Qui-Gon huffed a quiet laugh. "Obi-Wan, I wish that it were so simple."

Obi-Wan commiserated. "True," he said, a little sadly, feeling hypocritical. "Can I help you with it?"

Chuckling, the Jedi Master, shook his head. "Would that it were possible." But he looked at his apprentice sharply then. Obi-Wan was looking back hungrily.

"I've dreamed of this," the young man breathed, glancing around the room half-desperately and speaking so low that his master almost couldn't hear. "I've longed for it, and now I don't know what to do."

"I beg your pardon?" Qui-Gon demanded, frowning.

Obi-Wan stood. "I've dreamed of this," he repeated, quite clearly, covering the distance between them and stopping right before his master. "I've longed for it," he added, "and now I don't know what to do-- well. Let me rephrase that last." And he bent somewhat, took Qui-Gon's face in his hands, and kissed him soundly.

Qui-Gon didn't respond at first, causing Obi-Wan a flare of panic. But he had come too far to give up now: that short span between the two beds had taken him years to clear, and by the Force he was going to make up for it. Making an impatient noise, Obi-Wan kissed more fervently, finally provoking a response. Once he had it, he broke the kiss.

"Jedi don't 'cruise,'" he whispered, trailing kisses over his master's face. "We wait until the time is right and then we take what's there for us."

Qui-Gon groaned at his padawan's possessiveness, his beautiful, untouchable Obi-Wan's sudden furious hunger.

"Is that so?" he gasped as Obi-Wan's teeth found his throat, hands working at his belt.

"Absolutely," Obi-Wan answered, and kissed him again. "We don't troll, we don't look, and we definitely don't cruise."

End.