Summary: Answer to Mac's "first line" challenge on the MA list.
Obi-Wan is the obligatory eighteen. Credit for the first line
of this little tale goes to Mac.
Author's note: thanks a lot, Mac! I was RIGHT in the middle of
something else. But OH-NOoooo...
Obi-Wan, no one is going to believe that we're lovers!
Qui-Gon sent this thought to his agitated padawan as the two of
them walked down the long hallway toward the Grand Assembly
Hall.
Why not? Obi-Wan asked, growing indignant.
For many very good reasons, his master told him, none
of which have anything to do with your intrinsic desirability.
I'm your master, I'm thirty years your senior, you are...
...a luscious little package of padawan pulchritude who would
have his pick of anyone in the Order, Qui-Gon thought to
himself.
So? You're clearly over-due to fall for some nubile young
thing, then, Obi-Wan told him. I'm just asking you to
pretend it's me, that's all...
Tell me again why this is so important, Qui-Gon pursued.
All I know is that you're insisting I attend the Padawans'
Ball with you, and pretend we're lovers.
It's really a matter of life or death! Obi-Wan insisted.
Obi-Wan... Qui-Gon injected a threatening note into his
mental voice.
Really, Master! Obi-Wan insisted. If you don't help
me out here, I'm going to DIE of embarrassment, and then you'll
be without a padawan and I just don't know HOW you'll
cope...
Qui-Gon was struggling to keep his amusement at his padawan's
distress from being felt by his apprentice. And what would
be so embarrassing about attending the ball without a
make-believe lover? he asked gently.
Soon the entire story was at his disposal - a typical tale of
teenaged embarrassment of the most excruciating sort. Obi-Wan
had thought that one of his friends was making an offer of a
sexual nature, and had made his belief clear, only to discover
that his friend had meant nothing of the sort. Backpedaling,
Obi-Wan was grateful that at least he had not leapt to accept
Dabian's offer, but that still left him feeling exceeding
foolish, so he had covered by saying, "Oh, good... because what
I was going to say was that however flattering such an offer
would be, I'm afraid my lover wouldn't be very understanding."
Thus, Obi-Wan needed to appear before Dabian and his friends
-with- said lover, or alternatively, as he so eloquently put
it, exile himself from Coruscant entirely and join a celibate
order in the Outer Rim.
Really, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon thought. You are making far
too much of a temporary embarrassment. And think of the
consequences - if you persuade your friends that you and I are
lovers, then you will be shutting yourself off from actual
offers you may wish to accept. And then where would you be?
The only offers I want to accept would come from you, Obi-Wan
thought, but he didn't share that particular sentiment with his
Master. Instead, he thought Oh, we can gradually get over
each other... you know, have a brief fling and move on...
Masters do NOT have brief flings with their students,
Qui-Gon told him. And while you're convincing your friends
I'm your lover, what are my peers, your friends' masters, going
to be thinking of a master who would lure his apprentice into a
sexual relationship? Really, Obi-Wan, you need to think these
things through. But in truth, Qui-Gon was finding himself
deeply drawn to the idea of posing as the lover of his
apprentice. It would certainly be more satisfactory to actually
-be- his lover, of course, but there might be a certain degree
of ego-gratification in being thought to be, as well... Qui-Gon
was rather ashamed of his reaction to this conversation.
They had now reached the foyer before the Grand Assembly, and
Obi-Wan turned to face Qui-Gon, putting one hand on his arm and
looked pleadingly into his eyes. "Please... Just dance once
with me. And sort of... you know, follow me with your eyes when
I dance with others. Act a little jealous. That's all.
Pleeease?"
Qui-Gon found the look in his padawan's eyes to be most...
distracting. Tucking Obi-Wan's hand in his, he groaned and
said, "Oh, let's get this over with then."
The pair caused a brief stir when they first entered the
assembly, by immediately taking to the dance-floor together. Of
course, masters who accompanied their padawans to these events
frequently danced one dance with them, but it was typically
much later in the evening, right before the master would depart
and leave his padawan to either find his own way back to their
quarters, or not. This dance-and-departure combination was a
not-very-subtle way for a master to tell his padawan that he
considered him old enough to make whatever arrangements for his
evening's further entertainment that he thought fit.
Still, a master dancing with his padawan early in the evening
wasn't completely unheard of, and the masters watching the
young people's socializing simply commented on how nice they
looked together before going on to other topics. The situation
was somewhat different for the padawans themselves, however,
since Dabian had not been as discreet as one would have wished
a Jedi-trainee to be, and they were all hoping to decipher the
mystery of Kenobi's lover.
"You don't think...?" one young lady was heard to ask her
current partner.
"No way," he replied. "Couldn't be. Still.. they are dancing a
lot closer than you'd expect..."
Qui-Gon was well aware of the sensation they were causing in
the padawan ranks, and was ashamed to discover that he was
enjoying it a great deal. And as for his wicked apprentice!
Qui-Gon was very disturbed by the way Obi-Wan had put his head
on his shoulder with a sweeet sigh, as they made their way
through the steps of the dance. Very disturbed indeed. But he
had to admit that Obi-Wan was quite proficient as an actor. If
he hadn't been privy to the plot, he could quite lose his head.
Steady on, old man, he chided himself, and resigned himself to
an evening of guilty pleasure mixed with sheer torture.
Obi-Wan too was finding himself prey to conflicting emotions.
He reveled in the fact that he was in the embrace of the man he
wanted in every possible way, but his enjoyment was
considerably dimmed by the knowledge that he was only being
held so tightly because his master was a kind man who took pity
on his dilemma. If only this were real, he thought in something
close to despair, and then resolved to at least enjoy the
fiction, memorize the sensation of being embraced, and store up
the memories for repetitive replay in the theater of his
imagination for years to come.
The only principle in this drama who had no source of pleasure
to dilute his misery was Dabian. For in truth, Dabian had been
quite sincerely interested in altering his relationship with
his very good friend Obi-Wan; only his instantaneous
recognition of Obi-Wan's intention of kindly turning him down
had allowed him to cover his mistake by pretending that it was
Obi-Wan who mistook his meaning. Now he was forced to watch the
object of his desires being practically -cuddled- in full view
of the entire padawan cadre. Life couldn't get any worse than
this, he thought. He was wrong.
K'vil and Bant had come up behind him and stood with him,
watching the dancers. K'vil turned to Bant, and in what was
apparently a continuation of an ongoing conversation, remarked,
"They are -so- doing it." Bant just giggled. She was prey to
some slight feelings of hurt herself - how dare Obi-Wan get
involved with someone without telling her? Telling her all the
details, what's more. Well, she was just going to have to make
sure that she rectified this situation at the earliest
opportunity.
The dance came to a close, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were, as the
music stopped, in the center of the vast hall; Obi-Wan raised
his head to assess his master's expression, and found himself
the recipient of an enigmatic regard. He raised his eyebrows in
silent inquiry, and Qui-Gon responded by taking his hand and
tucking it into his arm, leading the way toward the buffet,
angling away from the cluster of curious padawans, projecting
an almost visible aura that said 'we want to be alone' to any
but the least empathetic.
Unfortunately, such dissuasion wasn't proof against the
curiosity of an old friend, and Obi-Wan wasn't surprised to see
Bant break away from the padawan pack and close in on him. She
most unfairly used her longstanding friendship with Obi-Wan,
and her resultant ease around his master, to impose herself
upon them and demand the next dance of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan found
himself dragged back to the dance floor, while Qui-Gon ignored
his mute appeal. Qui-Gon chose to take the opportunity of his
padawan's engagement with Bant to stock up at the buffet, and
then find himself a good spot along the wall from which he
could carry out his orders to follow his apprentice with his
eyes and act jealous.
He found it quite impossible to project any jealousy toward
Bant - the young Calamarian had been in and out of his and
Obi-Wan's shared quarters for so many years that he could feel
nothing but paternal affection for her. But when Bant yielded
her place as Obi-Wan's partner to Dabian, Qui-Gon frowned. He
once again was afflicted with contradictory emotions. His heart
ached for his padawan, forced by circumstance to dance with the
object of his unrequited affections, yet he really did not want
to see those affections returned.
How selfish was he, Qui-Gon wondered, to wish that his
padawan's affections would go unanswered? Fairly selfish, he
discovered, as he watched the pair together. His musings on
this topic gave him a look of frowning concentration; it was
easy enough to construe it as jealousy, with maybe a touch of
anger. Dabian decided, after one look at Obi-Wan's scowling
master, that perhaps he didn't want to renew his earlier,
stillborn offer.
Dabian was now wishing he hadn't cut in on Bant - the events of
the afternoon were so embarrassing that he and Obi-Wan could
not enjoy their usual camaraderie, and in fact were almost
entirely silent, a most uncomfortable way to perform a dance
together. Obi-Wan couldn't help but spare a look at his master,
and although he didn't mentally broadcast a plea for rescue,
the look was enough - Qui-Gon waded into the dancing throng and
quite soon was standing over a petrified Dabian.
"Padawan Dabian." Qui-Gon's voice was very gentle indeed. For
some reason, this only reinforced the terror Dabian was already
feeling. "If I may impose and reclaim my padawan?" Dabian
yielded without a word, and beat a hasty retreat to the
comforts of the buffet.
Qui-Gon took one look at his apprentice's flushed face and
decided that perhaps the dance-floor wasn't the best place for
him at that moment. He steered the embarrassed Obi-Wan to the
perimeter of the large hall, and after a moment's
reconnaissance, out the large doorway that led to a balcony.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon told him. "I should have rescued
you sooner - I can't think what Bant was thinking, exposing you
to such an awkward situation."
"Huh?" Obi-Wan was without a clue. "What do you mean? Dabian
cut in on her, what could she do?"
"Oh. I thought perhaps she was trying to bring you two
together... do you wish to return?" Qui-Gon was now feeling
foolish. "If he cut in on you, perhaps he's thought better of
his earlier disclaimers to any interest in..."
"Gods, no!" Obi-Wan interjected. "It was my fear that he was on
the verge of a declaration that caused me to make such an idiot
of myself. I was in such a hurry to stop him before he said
something he'd regret that I wound up looking like such an
egotist..." Obi-Wan could feel his face burning with remembered
embarrassment.
"You weren't interested in what you thought he was offering?"
Qui-Gon was puzzled, but pursuing. "But I thought this was all
about unrequited affection."
It is, Obi-Wan thought to himself, but not between me and
Dabian. "No, it's all about hurt pride," he confessed. "I
thought I was wanted, and I wasn't."
Qui-Gon was stunned. "But Obi-Wan..." He paused and then went
on, "You are wanted by almost all of the padawan class, and at
least half of the masters. How can you feel unwanted?"
Obi-Wan looked up at this, intrigued. "Half the masters?" His
voice came out a little bit croaky, so he cleared his throat
before saying, "In which half do you belong?"
Qui-Gon looked down at his padawan, wondering if his frustrated
desires had finally driven him completely mad. His apprentice
could not be flirting with him. Surely not. Was he?
The two stood looking at each other in silence, Qui-Gon
wondering if he dared, and Obi-Wan wondering HOW he had
dared... Suddenly, a lengthy shadow fell across the balcony,
indicative that someone was at the windows, looking out.
Kiss me! Obi-Wan mentally hissed, and Qui-Gon obeyed at
once, pulling Obi-Wan into a tight embrace and devouring his
mouth. The kiss went on for some time, with the deployment of
tongues and the clutching of hands on shoulders, tangled in
hair. Their bodies being pressed tightly against one another,
it was soon useless to deny that they were both quite seriously
aroused.
Are you still pretending? Obi-Wan asked hesitantly,
without breaking the never-ending kiss.
I haven't been pretending, Qui-Gon confessed. Are you
still pretending?
I haven't been either, Obi-Wan thought, and then moaned
as Qui-Gon's tongue stroked the roof of his mouth. Then he
grimaced and yelled "hey!"
Qui-Gon too jumped as he felt his shins under assault, and he
reluctantly released his apprentice to glare down at Master
Yoda. "Do you mind?" he asked indignantly. "We are having a
conversation here."
"Conversation this is not," Yoda cackled. "Foreplay, my guess
would be. Kiss on balconies, you should not. Dizzy, you might
become, and a long way up, we are."
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged amused looks at this.
"Prone, you should be," Yoda went on. "Generally, a bed,
preferred is. Then if control you should lose, fall to your
deaths you will not."
Qui-Gon struck his forehead with his fist. "Yoda, I believe you
are a genius! A bed! Why didn't we think of that? You have
surely saved our lives today, for which I am eternally in your
debt."
"Sarcasm becomes you not," Yoda noted mildly, and gave them
each a poke with his stick. "Away you should go immediately. To
bed repair, and do not again your faces show until in public
you can behave."
Qui-Gon needed no further persuasion, taking Obi-Wan's hand and
drawing him back into the Grand Assembly Hall, where they made
their way by stealth toward the exit, and freedom.
Bant stood looking after the escaping pair with bemusement. Her
dance with Obi-Wan had been informative, with Obi-Wan
disclaiming any sexual relationship with his master, but
begging her to pretend to believe their charade. He promised
he'd tell her all about it tomorrow, and she was looking
forward to hearing what kind of trouble he'd got himself into
this time.
Yet when she had glanced out at the pair on the balcony, they
certainly -looked- like lovers, and Bant didn't know what to
think. And now they were sneaking out of the ballroom like an
adulterous pair bent on sin. What could it all possibly mean?
It was at this point that Yoda emerged from the balcony, and
came to stand beside her, also watching the fleeing master and
apprentice. Bant looked down at the diminutive elder, and with
an eloquent shrug of her shoulders indicated that she had no
idea what was going on.
Yoda took pity on her. "Doing it," he said oracularly, "they
-so- are."
And before very many minutes had passed, his prophecy was
fulfilled.
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