Shave

by Leandra (mail)

Category: Pre-Slash, Gen-fic

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: yes. And still on or off list. Btw my dear newbie: Arrogance combined with gloating makes me sick. I hope you know who you are.

Archive / Distribution: m_a, nuttersinc

Thanks to: Tem-Ve for the quick beta and for making me laugh at her jokes when it comes to my silly mistakes. Raina, for the term "enchanted bewilderment", wherever she got that from.

Summary: 16-year old Obi-Wan and his (very tame) bathroom adventures.

Note: Despite the title that may sound interesting, this is a very tame gen-fic with a hint at pre-slash. So don't be disappointed. Might be first in a series.

Disclaimer: As you all well know, I don`t own the guys. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon belong to their respective counterparts. :-) in RL the characters Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn were invented by GL and therefore belong to him.

Obi-Wan looked at himself in the mirror and contemplated the faint reddish stubble on his chin, his green eyes squinted to small slits. He tilted his head to one side and wiggled his chin, observing the deep dimple that had become evident over the last year. He grimaced and wrinkled his nose, then grinned a little at the stupid expression on his face. While his sixteen-year-old youthful body refused to change into the broader form of a man, the subtle hairs of a ginger beard had begun to cover his chin, the colour a lighter tone than the dark blond locks curling around his sex and in his armpits.

He raised a hand to his face and touched the soft hair that spread in the hollow of his chin, on his cheek and above his upper lip in fascination. A lopsided grin appeared on his face again when he started to scratch across the stubble with his fingernails, producing a raspy noise.

"Padawan?" He heard his Master's voice from outside the fresher. "Are you done in there?" Qui-Gon's approach was heralded by soft footsteps that fell on the carpeted floor.

"Almost, Master." Obi-Wan said and turned around in time to see his Master stopping in the open door, his arms folded in front of his huge body, gazing at his apprentice.

A small smile tugged on Qui-Gon's lips. "What took you so long? You know we should be at the reception in a few minutes." Qui-Gon said, his chiding tone betrayed by the upward curve of his thin lips.

Obi-Wan blushed a little, embarrassed as if Qui-Gon had caught him doing something immoral. He scolded himself for acting that way and refused to avert his eyes to the floor, a movement that would speak of his baseless guilt.

Noticing the flush of colour that added to the perpetual rosy tint of his apprentice's cheeks, Qui-Gon stepped forward and reached out to lift Obi-Wan's chin in his large hand. Obi-Wan blinked in confusion when Qui-Gon studied him intently, turning his head from side to side, then rubbed a thumb over his skin, murmuring something in what seemed satisfaction.

"You need a shave," his Master stated calmly and dropped his hand.

"Ah... y... yes," Obi-Wan stuttered, and felt very dumb.

"Never done that before, I guess?" Qui-Gon asked softly, and sighed when Obi-Wan shook his head sheepishly.

"Sit down," he instructed and indicated Obi-Wan to seat himself on the edge of the bathtub. Obi-Wan obliged, his eyes following Qui-Gon who rummaged through different drawers, taking out a mug, soap and a shaving brush. He set them on the edge of the wash basin in front of him, then turned around to his apprentice again.

"We don't want you to appear unshaven at the reception, right?" he asked and Obi-Wan nodded with huge eyes and watched Qui-Gon preparing the soapy foam in the mug.

"It would take too much time to let you shave yourself when you've never done that before and I don't want my apprentice to run around with fresh cuts on his face either... that would cast a rather bad light on me," Qui-Gon continued in jest, beating the foam in the mug with the brush.

Obi-Wan wanted to protest. He was able to handle a lightsaber, surely he was able to shave without cutting himself. The look of objection in his eyes must have been evident, because Qui-Gon raised a hand and chided him good-humouredly: "Ah... ah... ah. Let me. Sit still now."

Before Obi-Wan could protest further, Qui-Gon swung the brush and covered his chin with the white foam, then dug in the mug once more, distributing the soap generously on his cheeks and around his lips. Obi-Wan decided to not die from mortification, even if he desperately desired to do so. Instead he resigned himself to his fate and hoped that this humiliation would be over soon.

Qui-Gon had finished the apportioning of foam on his face and took a step back, brush still raised in one hand, and regarded his artistic oeuvre with a cocked eyebrow.

"Hmm. That will do," he murmured, then put the mug and brush aside.

Obi-Wan repressed the desire to roll his eyes, and watched as his Master took his own razor and snapped it open. The foam was tickling his skin and he wrinkled his nose, receiving a glance of disapproval from Qui-Gon.

"Hold still. Or I might cut you," his Master said, then dropped to his knees in a fluid and rather graceful movement in front of Obi-Wan. Now Obi-Wan was grateful for the foam covering his face, otherwise the crimson on his face would have been too obvious.

"Raise your chin, Padawan," Qui-Gon demanded and Obi-Wan obliged, tilted his head back and stared towards the ceiling. The sharp razor started to scrape from his throat up the underside of his chin. The strange feeling of the cool steel on his skin made Obi-Wan shiver. He felt vulnerable, even if his own Master, the man he trusted with all his life, was the one that held the razor blade to his throat. Qui-Gon continued to scrape the faint stubble off his chin, clearing the hairy foam off the blade on a nearby towel.

A large hand was raised, and softly as if he was touching an egg shell, Qui-Gon turned Obi-Wan's face to one side and continued to shave his apprentice's left cheek. Obi-Wan watched out of the corner of his eye the concentrated but tender expression on his Master's face. Qui-Gon was losing himself in the task of removing the makings of a beard on his apprentice's left cheek, then turned Obi-Wan's head to the other side, shaving the other cheek carefully.

When he was done, he looked his work over carefully, then said with an almost impish smile, "Now I need you to pout, Padawan."

"Pardon Master?" Obi-Wan regarded his Master with a look of pure puzzlement. Enchanted bewilderment, Qui-Gon thought.

"To clear the stubble off your upper lip," he explained patiently.

"Oh..." said Obi-Wan and fell silent again.

"Will you?" Qui-Gon inquired when his apprentice refused to stick out his upper lip.

Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan followed the request. Just when Qui-Gon was about to place the razor blade above his lip, Obi-Wan relaxed his lips.

A little annoyed from the unnerving look Qui-Gon was receiving from his Padawan, he withdrew the knife and sat back on his heels, shooting the same look back at Obi-Wan.

"What?" he asked, irritation evident in his voice.

"I feel silly," his Padawan replied with a little whine.

A growling sigh of impatience escaped Qui-Gon's throat. "Do you want to keep that rather cute tip of your nose?" he asked, bringing the sharp edge of the knife's blade up to Obi-Wan's eye level.

With huge eyes Obi-Wan stared at the shiny blade, then his eyes flew back to his Master. He nodded.

"Fine. Then pout."

This time there was no objection.

When he had finished Qui-Gon took a fresh towel from a stack and thoroughly cleaned Obi-Wan's face of the foam. Then he examined him attentively, wiped at his face some more with the edge of the towel and finally stood up, content with his work. He drew up Obi-Wan with him and turned him to face the mirror.

"Better?" he asked gently and watched his apprentice's features in the fresher room mirror.

A small smile stole on to Obi-Wan's face and his eyes lit up in delight. "Yes."

Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder briefly. His apprentice had become a very handsome young man. Soon there would be plenty of people noticing that fact too.

"I expect you to be ready in 2 minutes, Obi-Wan," he said and turned around, leaving the young man standing alone in front of the mirror.

Obi-Wan twitched his chin, then tilted his head, then grimaced. He grinned again at his mirror image and raised a hand to move it over the smooth surface of his clean-shaven skin.

He reassured himself with a look over his shoulder that his Master was nowhere in sight. Then he stuck out his bottom lip and upper lip in a pout, the result causing his face to contort in embarrassment. Yes. Silly.

He wiped the remnant of a beard hair from his upper lip and wiggled his itching nose. Cute tip of nose...

"Padawan? Time's up!"

"Coming, Master!" Obi-Wan yelled back, sticking his tongue out at his mirror image one last time.

He still found himself strikingly handsome.