Archive: MA, the Rising Force; all others, please ask
Category: Romance, smarm
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Gentle fluff. A Very Tiny Tale, in the After Bandomeer
universe.
Author's Note: The After Bandomeer stories appear to be
presenting themselves to me completely out of order, the
naughty little bunnies... The sequence as currently envisioned:
After Bandomeer (in MA archives)
Returning a Padawan (in production)
Padawan Kisses <---- you are here
Master Attachment (planned)
Sleeping Arrangements (in MA archives)
Mace Windu made his move and then sat back to wait for
Qui-Gon's countermove. He was rather amazed that he'd gotten so
far this time. The first game they'd played that evening had
been won rather handily by Qui-Gon in an embarrassingly short
match. Mace had fought the second match to a draw, and now it
appeared that if he could force his enclosure a little tighter,
he may actually win one.
He thought he would relish his presumptive victory a little
more if he could be sure that his opponent's attention was on
the game, but he could tell that Qui-Gon was growing
increasingly preoccupied with something that was not present on
the board.
Qui-Gon moved one of his lancers forward to engage the queen's
guard; a not entirely haphazard move, but one that showed he
completely overlooked the danger that Mace's footsoldiers were
posing. Mace made the move that would show Qui-Gon his error,
and said, "You're off somewhere else, Master. What's the
trouble?"
"Oh, no trouble really," Qui-Gon said, as he recognized the
trap he'd walked into. "Just Obi-Wan... he's having another bad
dream."
Obi-Wan had retired over an hour ago; as a self-styled 'man of
action', the fourteen-year-old apprentice had a very short
attention span for Kings, and when Mace and Qui-Gon had one of
their marathon gaming sessions, he quickly decamped.
Qui-Gon moved one of his archers forward in a desperation move,
and went on, "I'm going to have to go rescue him in a minute if
he can't get out of it. We have a sort of mutual aid agreement
when it comes to bad dreams."
"He been having a lot of bad dreams?" Mace asked.
"Oh, no more than most boys his age, I expect," Qui-Gon said.
"He just takes them so personally."
"You still having bad dreams?" Mace pursued.
"Not as many as I was," Qui-Gon told him, smiling. "And I think
knowing I've got 'back-up' makes them not seem so bad, when I
do have them."
Several moves later, Qui-Gon was conceding defeat and pushing
his chair back.
"I'll put these away," Mace told him; as a former resident of
these rooms, he was intimately familiar with where everything
went. "You go quiet Obi-Wan." For he could tell that his
erstwhile master was anxious to do just that.
Mace put each carved piece into its fitted niche in the
foam-board that protected them, and closed the board-table back
into its case, before walking down the hall to say good-night
to his host.
He paused in the doorway to Obi-Wan's room, and smiled at the
attractive picture the master and apprentice made. Qui-Gon was
seated on the single bed with his back against the headboard.
Obi-Wan lay sprawled across his lap, with his head on Qui-Gon's
chest, sleeping peacefully. Qui-Gon was gently stroking
Obi-Wan's face, and as Mace watched, he leaned down and pressed
a tiny kiss on Obi-Wan's eyelid.
You look like a pair of lovers, Mace thought to his
master.
Qui-Gon looked up at that and raised one quizzical eyebrow.
Dream gone? Mace asked.
I had to turn it, he heard Qui-Gon reply. He wasn't
able to get out of it.
Any chance he's dreaming the future? Mace asked. Some
Jedi could access visions of the future in their sleep; it
wasn't yet known whether or not Obi-Wan was one of their
number.
Force, I hope not, and Mace could feel Qui-Gon's mental
shudder.
That bad?
Pretty damned bad... He was walking through the Temple. It
was in total ruins. Bodies were everywhere, most mutilated as
well as killed... But he wasn't looking for my body - He knew
I'd been dead for years. It was... fairly gruesome. Qui-Gon
kissed Obi-Wan's temple at that.
Has he had that one before? Mace wanted to know.
Not that I know of - I think it's a new one. He usually has
the standard teenage-coping-with-mortality ones. My death,
mostly. And he usually is somehow constrained to watch me die,
without being able to assist me... Those dreams leave him
fairly upset, and Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan's lax cheek with
one finger.
Maybe Yoda should talk to him about this latest one, then,
if it's out of the blue, Mace suggested.
I'll suggest it to Obi-Wan, but he doesn't take too kindly
to being asked to take his dreams seriously, Qui-Gon
thought.
Mace stood for a moment propping one shoulder against the
doorjamb, then thought You two are certainly more physically
affectionate than you and I were, Master.
Qui-Gon looked up at him and smiled. You were always so
suspicious of hugs and kisses, my Padawan.
An unfortunate legacy of my homeworld's culture, Mace
smiled ruefully. Love and comfort were expressed in words,
physical displays were for sex.
It made it difficult when you were my padawan, Qui-Gon
was nostalgic. All the things that are so easy to say with a
hug - like 'you'll do better next time', or 'thank you for your
kindness'... I had to find words for. Not exactly my
strength.
Yeah, well, how do you think Deracia felt? Mace was
referring here to the Knight with whom he enjoyed his first
long-term relationship. It took her quite a while to train
me that hugs weren't ALWAYS foreplay.
Qui-Gon pressed another soft kiss on Obi-Wan's eyelid, which
caused Mace to comment, Still, I don't think it's entirely
my upbringing that raises my eyebrows whenever you do THAT.
Do what?
Masters kiss their apprentices on the forehead or cheek,
Mace was grinning. Lovers kiss eyelids.
You're implying that lovers have exclusive rights to
eyelids? I don't believe it. Qui-Gon's mental voice was
mock-outrage.
Ask anyone, Mace laughed. I don't think it's just
me.
In the name of masters everywhere, Qui-Gon mentally
intoned, I reclaim my padawan's eyelids. And he kissed
Obi-Wan again.
Why don't you reclaim his lips while you're at it? Mace
was sardonic.
I'll have you know I can name at least three humanoid
cultures in which kissing on the lips is a form of
greeting. Qui-Gon was pedantic.
I know, I know... my first posting was to one of them. The
first month there, I thought I'd die of embarrassment, and
practically HID in the embassy... Mace was suddenly
suspicious. Master, YOU didn't have anything to do with my
first posting, did you?
Qui-Gon made an innocent face with wide eyes. Me? Oh,
Padawan, you over-rate my influence.
Dammit, I should have KNOWN you had something to do with
that, Mace groaned. And I'm years overdue in finding an
appropriate payback, too.
I have every confidence in your managing to think of just
the thing, Qui-Gon told him, and a companionable silence
fell between the two men for some moments.
Then Mace thought, You're in for a hell of a time when this
one falls in love with you.
I think I wasn't much older than that when I decided that
the goal of my life was to die bravely for you, Mace told
him.
You always were a romantic, Qui-Gon thought. But you
had a thirty-year-old master, remember. I expect Obi-Wan will
find someone a little younger and more dashing than his
decrepit fifty-year-old master on which to exercise his
hormonal yearnings.
You really are in for a surprise, Mace was smiling
fondly. Since I don't get the opportunity very often, I hope
you won't mind when I remind you of this conversation and say
'I told you so' in the reasonably near future.
Oh, go home and go to bed, Mace, Qui-Gon told him
gruffly.
Yes, Master, Mace said meekly, and complied.
Qui-Gon sat for a while looking down at his apprentice's
sleeping face, more troubled than he had let on. He hoped Mace
was wrong, or at least that he had misjudged the timeframe;
once Obi-Wan evinced a strong romantic attachment to his
master, if ever, it would become necessary for the master to
put some distance, both physical and emotional, between the two
of them. And Qui-Gon was not looking forward to having to do
that.
Damn Mace, anyway, for putting ideas into my head, Qui-Gon
thought as he stroked his padawan's cheek. He probed gently to
assess Obi-Wan's sleep state, and was pleased to find him in a
deep-sleep, dreams far away.
Then he yielded to the impulse, and leaned down to softly press
his lips to his padawan's. And then he did it again. After all,
who knows how long he still had to enjoy his padawan's kisses?
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