TPM Snippet 4: Padawaned

by Ladonna King (lking@agora.rdrop.com)



ARCHIVE: M_A if you want it, and http://www.slashcity.com/ciceqi/SWS4.htm

PAIRING: Q/O slash

CATEGORY: Humor/Parody

RATING: G

DISCLAIMER: You ain't nothin but a Lucas / Filmin all the time / You ain't nothing but a Lucas / Filmin all the time / You ain't never slashed a Jedi / And you ain't no friend of mine.

WARNINGS: Only if bad humor requires a warning...

SPOILERS: None. Takes place preTPM.

NOTES: For Judy's "padawaned as slang" challenge. Apologies to Robert Johnson, Taj Mahal, and Blind Willie McTell for the terrible things I did to their songs...(notes for those at the end).

SUMMARY: Obi-Wan discovers a few new bits of slang to add to his vocabulary.

FEEDBACK: Would make me break out the James Brown.



Nodding to the bartender as he accepted another drink, Obi-Wan tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, keeping his ears open and his mouth shut. It was hard to make out the conversations around him over the soulful shudder of the Corellian blues band up on stage, but every once in a while he'd catch a name, a place, a snippet of hushed transaction. Taking a long, slow drink, Obi-Wan leaned sideways against the counter as he tapped his foot in time to the music, his calculatedly sleepy eyes tracking the room like a hawk.

The pair of Wookies at the table by the furthest corner were muscle, but Obi-Wan didn't know whose. All they did was drink and bark out the occasional terse comment, their sharp growls usually answered by another round of drinks from a harried server. The three pairs of humanoids spaced out along the opposite wall were smugglers, looking for cargo or buyers--two pairs were confident, one nervous. Obi-Wan was watching the nervous one, more out of habit than anything else. They weren't here for smugglers. He and his Master were on the trail of a bounty hunter who, it was reported, had begun to dip into abduction as a sideline, to the tune of the royal prince of Karda-Gaan IV. The hunter himself never came here--but the man's newest bedmate did, and it looked like tonight was girls' night out.

Sighing, Obi-Wan let his chin drop to his chest, contemplating the contents of his glass. He didn't know how many more of these he'd be able to drink and still function effectively in a fight, but he couldn't sit here and not drink, either. Not in this kind of bar, parked solidly in the lowest levels of Coruscant--but he'd already had to fend off half a dozen indecent proposals, and the night was still young. If that Sith-cursed band wasn't so damned loud so he could hear better...

Sighing again, Obi-Wan took another sip, torn between moodiness and resignation. Obi-Wan had no doubt that the volume of the music was deliberate, for the peace of mind of the club's clientele. At least they were good, although he'd probably never understand where some of the more colorful bits of cultural slang had come from...
    "Ain't nobody ever gonna steal my gimmer stick
     Ain't nobody ever gonna steal my gimmer stick
     Well you know I'm doing some padawaning on a woman, and she--
     She keep me satisfied deep down in my soul..."
Frowning to himself, Obi-Wan blinked once before shaking his head, downing the rest of his glass quickly. Which was probably a mistake...but there was no way he could have heard what he thought he had. Well...he could see how the, ah, gimmer stick might have been coined...maybe. But...

Obi-Wan motioned the bartender over again, feeling the braid tucked into his shirt like a brand against his skin. No way had he heard 'padawan' used...as a verb. No.

One more drink, and he slid carefully off his stool, ambling nonchalantly towards a table a little closer to the private booth where his target sat--a sweet-faced boy surrounded by a circle of laughing, teasing youths, thieves and prostitutes to a man. "No, you're kidding," one of the boy's friends grinned in sly anticipation, scenting some juicy piece of gossip in the boyfriend's shameless bragging. "He used what?"

"Honest truth," the boyfriend chuckled easily. "We decided we wanted to try something new, so when we drank all the brandy, he padawaned me with the--"

Obi-Wan missed hearing what the instrument of choice was, only seven years of intensive training under the best Master in the Temple keeping him from whipping around in utter shock. Had someone slipped something into his drink? He knew he hadn't just imagined hearing--

"He padawaned you with the what?" half the table yelled in chorus, leaving no doubt in Obi-Wan's mind of what he was hearing. Padawaned? How...what...Padawan? As a verb. And for...that.

Why?

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," the boyfriend grinned cheekily as Obi-Wan noticed a feeling of rather acute distress being projected at him from across the club. There was no way his Master had missed hearing that gleeful shout...and something told Obi-Wan that his Master was not looking forward to explaining this one to his...Padawan. "Because believe you me, that man can padawan like a dream, I don't care what he uses for a 'saber!"

//Oh. Dear. Force.// Obi-Wan was on the verge of blushing furiously and laughing himself right under the table, but he wasn't about to let on. Not just yet. Padawan. It seemed like the lower levels had a rather...unique idea of just what the Master-Padawan relationship entailed. Not that it wasn't a crying shame they were completely, irrefutably wrong...he'd wanted his Master for years, after all, but Qui-Gon's friendship and good opinion meant far more to him. It was one of his most cherished dreams, approaching his Master after he was Knighted, after he'd proved himself a mature, capable individual perhaps worthy of more than a Master's admiration. Still...

Watching Qui-Gon squirm over this one was going to be the most fun he'd had in ages.

The table he was watching suddenly started clapping, and Obi-Wan realized the song had ended, another one--obviously a favorite--beginning with a rippling slide riff played with a tentacle and a six-fingered hand. "Jinnson!" the boyfriend whooped as he applauded, and the musician twitched a cocky grin their way as he leaned into the microphone.
    "I'm gon' get up in the mornin'," Jinnson crooned,
        "I believe I'll dust my droid
     I'm gon' get up in the mornin'
         I believe I'll dust my droid
     Boyfriend, the man you've been padawanin'
         Boyfriend, he can have my braid..."
Hard-pressed not to react to the feeling of mortified desperation coming from his Master, Obi-Wan turned in his seat as the booth behind him erupted into cheers, much to the disgust of the Wookies. The boyfriend, catching Obi-Wan's eye, winked with a cocked brow, and Obi-Wan gave a long, slow smile in return when he saw the considering gleam in the boy's eyes.

Seconds later, he had a place at the booth, buying a round for his new friends.

"Well, mine likes me to call him 'Master,'" Obi-Wan was saying with a shrug when the next round of drinks arrived, and Auver, the boyfriend, was laughing so hard he was on the verge of sliding right out of his seat.

"Don't you just love that?" one of Auver's friends smirked. "More money than brains--mine lets me call his 'saber a Mace, and doesn't have the faintest idea what I'm talking about..."

"No!" someone else gasped in amused horror. "You mean it's been..."

"Yep. He's some sort of religious fanatic--I guess they all snip off their sithrobes, either when they're born or when they convert to the faith. I think mine was a convert..."

"Owww!" the table winced as one, many crossing their legs, though Obi-Wan's grimace was mostly from trying to hold his screams of laughter inside. This just kept getting better and better--though he would never be able to look Mace Windu in the eye again...

"It's no loss," the boy shrugged with a snicker. "Trust me, he's rich as a Hutt, but he's no Qui-Gon Jinn."

Several hands appeared magically to pound Obi-Wan on the back as he choked on his whiskey, but the laughter was friendly as he clapped one hand over his mouth, trying not to spray the fiery stuff everywhere. "Not while we're drinking!" another boy protested, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Right, right..." a dark-haired boy in the corner grinned. "But speaking of jinns--where is your master, Auver? I mean, you'd think that with a obi like you in his bed, he'd be home more often..."

Jedi discipline alone kept Obi-Wan's mind on business as Auver replied, too stunned and embarrassed to do more than listen. An obi? //Excuse me?// "Oh, he's on his way back from dropping something off on Tattooine," Auver shrugged unconcernedly. "He'll be back by dawn, and he's all but promised me a trip to the council chambers the minute he gets back..."

A tall shadow swept down upon them, Qui-Gon Jinn, resplendent in black leather and Corellian silk. "Ben," Qui-Gon purred silkily, "there you are. The merchandise is taken care of, if you're ready to go?"

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied with a long, slow smile, enough heat in his eyes to redouble the lust of those that could see him, even in the wake of Qui-Gon's entrance. "I'm right behind you..."

"Very good," Qui-Gon nodded once, stalking away without looking back.

"Psst!" one of the boys nudged him in the side, giving him an aggrieved look. "You didn't tell us your master was an assassin!"

"Yeah," Auver pouted good-naturedly. "I would've picked your brain for tips! Mine's just a tag-and-bagger, even if he can padawan with the best of them..."

//Merchandise,// Obi-Wan tagged dutifully in his head, adding it to the long list of absolutely vital slang he'd learned today. Dragging explanations out of his Master for some of them was going to be a scream... "Sorry, guys: he'd...send me to Bandomeer," he shrugged in a moment of inspiration, "if he knew I'd talked shop with anyone..."

"Ooooh," the table chorused sympathetically, nodding as one. "You watch yourself, then, Ben--maybe we'll see you around?" Auver asked with a hopeful grin.

"Sure," Obi-Wan smiled easily. "I bet that could be arranged. Take care..."

"Yeah--may the Force be with you," Auver purred lasciviously, casting a hungry look in the direction Qui-Gon had gone. "What a jinn..."

"Yeah," Obi-Wan chuckled, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Somehow, he doubted his Master would have been that embarrassed if there hadn't been something there he didn't want Obi-Wan to know...and Qui-Gon's eyes when Obi-Wan had gave him the Look... Suddenly, the years between now and his Knighting looked a lot more promising. "Yeah," he repeated with a wicked grin, "and he padawans like a dream..."

The table was still laughing as he stalked after his Master, giving a nod to the bartender and the blues singer on stage. Jinnson winked back as Obi-Wan passed, and the last thing he heard on his way out the door was the man's mellow voice, sending him off to learn something...new from his venerable Master.
    "Woke up this mornin...had them Braid-Boy blues...
     Said I woke up this mornin...had them Braid-Boy blues...
     Look over on the corner--looks like my Master had 'em too..."
Qui-Gon hadn't waited for him at the door of the club, but his Master wasn't walking very fast, either. Obi-Wan was able to catch up without really stretching his legs, and they fell in together naturally as they took a circuitous route back to their rented room, one procured just for this occasion. Auver had said his mas--his boyfriend was dropping something off on Tattooine, after all...unless that was more slang, it sounded like the Hutts of that world has just been handed the Crown Prince of Karda-Gaan IV. On the other hand, all they had to do was follow Auver and the boy would lead them right to his--

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon cleared his throat quietly as the crowds parted for them, the man's dangerous walk gaining better results than it ever had in Jedi robes.

"Yes, ma-Master?" It was no use--just thinking about the hidden meanings of that innocuous title was nearly enough to send Obi-Wan into peals of shameful mirth.

"Something amuses you, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked with deceptive mildness, and Obi-Wan consciously blanked his face into something appropriately innocent and studious, though it took a judicious application of the Force to manage it.

"No, Master," he answered back calmly, "just a passing thought. If my surprise at the...intricacies of colloquial speech was unseemly, I apologize..." He knew Qui-Gon was nearly wild with apprehensive curiosity, but considering just how much lower-level slang his Master did know...and had kept from him, at that... No, this coy approach was entirely deserved. Entirely.

Qui-Gon was silent for a few paces more as they neared their place of lodging, the bustle of the infamous Grey Quarter swirling around them. Sweeping through the front door, Qui-Gon glared at the being behind the main desk, obviously deciding to play his role of assassin to the hilt. "Perhaps," Qui-Gon said after a moment, "you'd care to report your findings on this...colloquial speech, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan grinned to himself. Report indeed. "Well, Master, it was actually quite educational. For instance, I learned that in the hierarchy of the young...shall we say...Companion's Guild? The group that caters to the likes of our bounty hunter is actually an offshoot of the Thieves Guild, rather than the Pleasure Worker's Union--"

"Padawan," Qui-Gon interrupted him patiently as they entered a lift, and Obi-Wan stifled a smile.

"Sorry, Master. Well, companions to bounty hunters--they call them 'tag-and-baggers,' actually--are in a less prestigious position than the ones who are with assassins. Your mention of 'merchandise' gained us this fascinating little insight..."

"I see," Qui-Gon nodded slowly, showing no sign that he knew his Padawan's innocent stalling stemmed from wicked intent. "That can't be the only thing you learned..." Qui-Gon fished as the lift doors opened, walking towards their rooms as if completely uninterested in the conversation.

"No," Obi-Wan agreed blithely, "far from it. Apparently, the followers of certain religious sects--the ones who practice routine circumcision as part of their faith--enjoy a special distinction amongst the residents of the lower levels...since their sexual equipment shares a name with Master Mace Windu..."

Qui-Gon winced slightly as Obi-Wan glanced up to gauge the man's reaction, but it almost looked like the man was smiling... "That's...very interesting, Padawan..."

"Oh, but there's more," Obi-Wan offered with relish, warming to the topic. "Perhaps you weren't aware of this, but it seems 'master' is another word for...hmm...I believe the term is 'sugar daddy?' I have to admit," he deadpanned as Qui-Gon winced again, "that took me aback...but not as badly as hearing 'Padawan' used as a verb. You probably wouldn't be familiar with this one...master...perhaps an example? As in, 'I'd like nothing better than to padawan my jinn of a master if he'd ever yoda up to how I feel about him...'"

Qui-Gon had opened the door to their rooms, but now he stood just inside, staring in shock as Obi-Wan swept past him, the door hissing shut in his wake. "Yoda?" Qui-Gon asked faintly, his voice far from steady.

"To wise up, to make a stunning revelation, or to hump the legs of younger men in poorly-lit bars," Obi-Wan defined crisply, turning to face his Master with his chin raised, eyes filled with certainty. "Myself, I'd be curious to know how 'jinn' became synonymous with delectable, well-hung men and splendid lovers. Not that two out of three aren't readily apparent," he added, letting his eyes sweep up and down his Master's body, "but it's that third that makes me wonder. I mean, if you'd wanted a padawan..."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon swallowed slowly, his level, almost pleading stare unwavering.

"Yes, Master?"

"I'm more than just a...'master,'" Qui-Gon insisted sternly. "And you...you are far more than just a Padawan. In all respects."

Obi-Wan couldn't help it; his smile escaped him despite his best intentions of remaining serious, and he knew it had lit up his face embarrassingly. "Yes, Master..." he murmured as Qui-Gon's lips twitched, his Master taking a slow, deliberate step forward.

"Of course," Qui-Gon chuckled, "I too have found myself pondering something of late..."

"And what would that be, Master?" Obi-Wan grinned confidently up at the other man, the sudden heat between them electrifying.

"The true meaning of "obi," Obi-Wan... A beautiful young man of many skills--they're not wrong there. But how, precisely, did it also come to mean 'wanton pleasure boy' and 'one whose bed should be registered as a place of worship?'"

Not having heard those interpretations, Obi-Wan could only laugh. "Honestly, Master, I have no idea--but since the rumors are there...perhaps we should investigate possible sources?"

"That would be lovely," Qui-Gon smiled serenely, closing the gap between them to cup Obi-Wan's face in his hands.

"Oh no, Master," Obi-Wan grinned up at him with a conspiratorial air. "It'll be jedirific. And that's a promise."




end




"Jellyroll" - Taj Mahal

    "Ain't nobody ever gonna steal my jellyroll
     Ain't nobody ever gonna steal my jellyroll
     Well you know I'm doing some lovin on a woman, and she--
     She keep me satisfied deep down in my soul..."

"Dust My Broom" - Robert Johnson

    "I'm gon' get up in the mornin'
         I believe I'll dust my broom
     Girlfriend, the black man you've been lovin
         Girlfriend, can get my room..."

"Statesborough Blues" - Blind Willie McTell

    "Woke up this mornin, had them Statesborough Blues
     Look over on the corner there, looks like grandma and grandpa had 
            them too"