Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making
any money.
Notes: Many thanks to Mrs. Hamill for originating Will and Ian,
and to Emrin for continuing their adventures.
Will Leeson bounded up the stairs to Ian McLawson's dressing
room. It had been two years since they had seen each other on
the set of their last holofilm. The next film was in
preproduction, and Will had taken a speeder from the landing
pad over to the new set as soon as he'd gotten in. He'd been
doing dinner theater on Corellia and Ian had been acting in
educational vids on Dantooine, hardly ideal for visits.
They had managed to keep up via vidcall, but Will had missed
his friend badly. He'd been in love with him for years, since
he'd met him on the first Heroes of the Galaxy movie, but Ian
had shown no interest in him, other than friendship, so Will
satisfied himself with that.
Will's equanimity had been sorely tested over the years by
certain fans of the movie. They'd somehow gotten the idea,
despite zero evidence in the script, that Ian and Will's
characters, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, were lovers. They were the
subject of endless speculation and fascination, not to mention
thousands of stories depicting them as not just lovers, but the
ultimate couple sharing one soul.
Will was devastated by these stories; he could not help but
read them, but they made him feel miserable afterward when he
came back to reality. No, he was not living in that happy
little universe, no matter how much he wished he could.
He'd like to be a Jedi Master and have a lightsaber and a
trusty Padawan, but most of all he'd like to have a lifebond
with his Obi-Wan, Ian McLawson.
If all this weren't enough to try the overworked actor's
patience, Ian had taken to joking about the stories, calling
Will his 'Qui-love' with a laugh and sparkle in his eye.
Irrationally, Will felt that he was being teased for loving
Ian, even though he was certain that Ian didn't know about his
feelings. Whenever Ian addressed him this way, Will passed it
off with a chuckle, and changed the subject as quickly as
possible, but it hurt a little more each time it
happened.
Sure enough, as soon as Will walked into Ian's dressing room,
Ian greeted him with "Hello, Qui-love. How are you?" He rose
from his seat on the couch, and hugged Will to him.
With an effort, Will kept it light. "Fine, Ian, just fine." He
never called him 'Obi' in a so-far-unsuccessful effort to
discourage Ian's games. He joined Ian on the sofa.
"I'm so glad to see you again. I'm getting sick of this
nomadic existence." Ian rubbed his forehead moodily. "I hear
Zukas is in talks to make Heroes into a holoseries."
Will's heart made a quick trip up to pound in his skull. This
was the first he'd heard of it. Instead of seeing Ian every
couple of years, he'd be on the set with him every day. With an
effort worthy of a Jedi Master, Will composed his face into a
serene mask. "What do you think the chances are of that
happening?" Much to his credit, his voice did not waver.
Ian grinned at him, which caused the rest of Will's
circulatory system to consider heading in the opposite
direction. "There's a good chance of it. Lucasta's heading the
negotiations."
Overwhelming relief surged through Will. Heroes was as good as
on next year's schedule already then. Better to have Ian's
companionship, even with the ache it brought, than to be alone.
He smiled back at Ian, letting a little more light slip out
than usual, figuring that Ian would take it as happiness at
finally having a steady job.
"Had dinner yet?"
"Are you paying?" Ian's smile quirked higher. He threw Will's
coat at him, and they headed for the door.
As it turned out, Ian was right as usual. He seemed to be
plugged in to the currents on the set. He befriended everyone,
down to the poor extras without dialogue. Will was pleasant to
his colleagues, but no one would consider asking him out for a
drink but Ian.
Perhaps it was in part his role as imperturbable Jedi Master,
but he seemed at a remove from the others. Ian bridged that gap
when they were in company, and made others comfortable around
him.
They were rehearsing a scene on the Council chamber set when
they got the official news: Heroes was going to become a
vidseries. Lucasta came up to them as they were being
questioned by Yoda, and said, "Men, you're on permanent
assignment as Jedi Knights. Congratulations." She hugged them
both, and walked off humming.
The director called an immediate halt to rehearsal, and the
entire cast and crew went to Ferwango's, an enormous bar a few
blocks away from the studio.
Ian and Will sat together, and Ian kept turning on his stool
in an excess of energy. After listening to the incessant
creaking for a good fifteen minutes, Will finally reached out
and grabbed Ian's shoulder, stopping him in mid-twist.
"Sorry," he said, looking completely unrepentant. "I'm just so
wired about the job." He started tapping his boot against the
footrest.
"So am I," said Will, looking anything but excited. By now,
he'd had time to worry about how he'd handle constantly being
near Ian without revealing too much. After all, Ian knew him
better than anyone else. It was one thing to be with him a few
weeks every two years, and quite another to see him daily. How
would he ever hide his feelings from his best friend?
It actually was more difficult than Will had feared. There was
no line between work and play for Ian. He seemed to expect
Will's constant presence in his life on set and off. After
they'd finished at the studio, he'd want to eat dinner with
Will, then go to one of their homes to talk, play word games,
or listen to music.
While Will thrived on his company, it was getting increasingly
difficult for him to get through a night without brushing
against Ian for the most innocent of reasons. He'd drive his
Volvaran, so that the narrow width of the bench seat let their
thighs touch. They set up games together, their hands bumping
on the board. When they relaxed with girondi tunes, Will waited
for Ian to pick a seat, then sat as close as he could without
crowding him.
One night it all came to a head. They'd just returned from a
Calamarian restaurant, and were in Ian's kitchen drinking tea.
"So, Qui-love, what do you think of their cuisine?"
Instead of passing it off with his usual good humor, Will
decided to put an end to the teasing. "Will you please stop
calling me that!" he almost shouted.
Ian stared at him as if he were Argula the Hutt, and said,
"What is your problem?"
"It's just a blasted holovid, Ian. Why do we have to take it
home with us?"
Ian opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly speechless for
once. "Why does it bother you so much?"
At this rate, they were in trouble. There were four questions
for each answer. Obviously the odds were against them.
Will did not have an answer to Ian's question, or rather, all
the possible answers were too revealing. Therefore, he tried to
retreat. "Let's just drop it, okay?"
Unfortunately, his friend had the tenacity of a Wookiee on
steroids. "It's just a joke, Will," he said, probing for a
reaction.
Will stayed determinedly silent. Ian let the subject drop
perforce, but made up for it by worrying it over in private for
hours. Long after Will had left, he lay on his back with his
hands under his head, comfortable in the airy dark of the
bedroom.
Why was Will upset over being called 'Qui-love'? It wasn't as
if he could take it seriously. Qui-Gon was just a character in
a vidseries. Actors had an innate perspective about that sort
of thing. He'd said, "Why do we have to take it home?" Perhaps
that was the problem. Will felt that Ian was too caught up in
the fantasy.
If only he knew. Ian was dreaming, not about Obi-Wan and
Qui-Gon, but about himself and Will. His friend would never
understand that; he just didn't see Ian that way. The last few
months he'd maneuvered himself near enough to Will to feel his
breath, but Will had never reacted, not at all. And Ian had
been hoping.
The next day, over dinner at Fizzer's (the place for jivin'
jazz, or so the sign outside claimed), Will apologized for his
behavior. Sitting across from a nonplussed Ian, who believed he
was the one who should be apologizing, Will got it out in fits
and starts.
"Ian," (long pause, fiddle with napkin). "Sorry about last
night. I shouldn't have gotten so worked up over nothing." Will
gave Ian a sidelong look to see how he was taking this.
Ian took a deep breath. "We're cool, Will. But whatever it is
that's bothering you, it's clearly not nothing if it gets to
you like that."
Will sighed. His friend was still trying to figure him out.
He'd have to offer some explanation. He wracked his brains for
a plausible reason for his overreaction, finally deciding that
a modified version of the truth would have to do since he
lacked the creativity for anything else.
"When you start calling me that name," even now Will couldn't
say it, "it feels like you're mocking me." To his dismay, a
bright red flush crept across his face.
"Mocking you?" Ian exclaimed in surprise. "I was just trying
to be funny. We're the stars of a kiddie series, Will, not a
Bakedbeer play, for heaven's sake!"
Will finally was able to look at him straight on, and grinned
in relief at the good humor on Ian's face. Ian never could stay
mad long. But Will still had a question. "How come you never
tease the others?"
"They're not my best friend," Ian said simply. He reached out
to pat Will's forearm. "You never let on before last night that
it was bothering you. I'm not psychic, you know."
"Thank goodness for that," Will thought gratefully.
Later on that evening at Will's apartment, the men were more
at ease with each other than they'd been in a long time. Will
was happy he'd put a stop to the teasing without explaining
himself fully, and Ian was glad to see Will in a better
mood.
Perhaps the sudden lifting of his burden could explain Will's
incaution that night. They'd been watching a vid of Ian's
Corellian Rogue holo.
As they sat side by side on the couch, Will ruffled Ian's hair
on his way to click off the vidscreen. "Quite a dashing
performance, my friend," Will said.
"What, now you can tease me but I can't tease you?" Ian said
in mock indignation.
"What, now I can't give you a compliment?" Will said, matching
his friend's cadence, tone for tone.
They both burst out laughing at exactly the same time.
"Acting!" Ian snorted, and hit Will with a sofa pillow. That
could not go unanswered, and pretty soon, pillows were flying
across the room, occasionally hitting their targets, who were
now almost breathless with laughter.
Will reached out to grab Ian's arm to stop his next shot.
"Truce?" he asked hopefully.
"Truce," Ian agreed, reluctantly dropping the pillow to the
carpet.
"You know, Ian, these pillows have a better use than this,"
Will said, then immediately cursed his wayward mouth. "Just
what was that supposed to mean?" he thought, as he groaned
inwardly.
"And what would that be?" Ian asked, playing innocent.
"Why, to cushion us on the sofa, of course," Will said
infuriatingly.
This time, however, he did not receive a free pass from his
friend. "That's not very imaginative," Ian said, his tone
turning sultry.
Will's head snapped up as he looked at Ian closely. He'd never
heard that inflection in his friend's voice before.
"Imaginative?" he repeated abstractedly, as Ian stalked nearer.
"Wha-"
He was cut off by Ian's kiss. "Ian, what are you doing?"
Ian chuckled against his lips. "If you can't tell, I'm not
doing it right."
"Ahh, you are doing it right," Will said, touching his cheek.
"It's just that I never knew you wanted to before."
"Oh, I've wanted to do this for years, but I wanted you as my
friend more."
"That's never going to change," Will murmured against his
hair.
"That's as close to an open invitation as I'm ever going to
get. Sith take subtlety," Ian thought, as he deepened the kiss,
throwing strong arms around Will and holding him to the
spot.
Oddly enough, the direct approach seemed to work. He heard
nothing in words from Will, but he hadn't known his friend
could make such a variety of heavenly sounds. Soft sighs,
guttural groans, needy moans: the ever-articulate Will's
vocabulary had been reduced to these primitive noises. Oh, how
Ian relished them.
"I love you, you know," said Will, finally coming up for
air.
The blazing smile Ian gave him answered their entire backlog
of questions, and raised delightful new ones. "I love you,
Will." He took his hand and led him to the bedroom. "I think
it's time for you to start teasing me." The look on Ian's face
held pure mischief, and Will couldn't wait to begin.
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