"Maybe"
Rating: PG-13, for innuendo and swearing
Bail finally gets Obi-Wan out on a date.
His caller laughed. "What a greeting! Succinct and to the point. There can be no mistake that I have reached you, Kenobi. On this end it's Bail Organa."
Obi-Wan had already recognized the Prince's silky voice, and he self-consciously moved a step or two further away from Qui-Gon. "How may I help you, Senator?" he asked as formally as he could.
"You might try by giving me your comm frequency. I didn't know how to get hold of you directly, so I called the Temple, and they patched me through to you."
Obi-Wan didn't particularly care to give the Senator his comm frequency. It seemed too personal, and he wasn't ready for that. But how to refuse politely? "I'm sorry you were inconvenienced."
"Well, it's no matter. Normally I would have just left a message for you, but time is of the essence."
"Is something wrong?"
"Not at all," the Prince laughed. "Must everything always be business with you? I'm just going out dancing tonight with some of my friends, and I wondered if you would care to join us?"
Qui-Gon had turned his back on Obi-Wan to give him at least the illusion of privacy, but at this his shoulders twitched, and Obi-Wan knew he had heard. Since he had first met the Senator, he had managed to keep their "dates" to a simple dinner after their planning committee meetings. While he admitted it to no one but himself, Obi-Wan had come to enjoy the Prince's company, but he still tried to keep their relationship as professional as possible. "Umm...." He cast about desperately for a reason to refuse, but he knew he would have to justify himself not only to Bail but to his Master as well. With both of them working against him, however unintentionally, Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't stand a chance.
Sure enough, Qui-Gon turned to face him, a gleam of amusement in his cool blue eyes. "You are free this evening, Padawan. If you want to go out with your friends, there is no reason why you shouldn't."
His friends? Obi-Wan didn't know these people!
From the other end of the commlink, Bail chimed in with his own efforts of persuasion. "It's the weekend. Surely even the Jedi are allowed time off. You're always saying how you don't know anyone but Jedi. Well, here's your chance to expand your acquaintance. Who knows? You might even take a fancy to some of them."
Obi-Wan sincerely doubted that, but since it was clear he wouldn't be permitted to refuse, he gave in and found himself, well, if not exactly excited, then at least curious about what an evening with Organa's "Young and Beautiful of Coruscant" might be like. "All right," he agreed.
With a satisfied smile, Qui-Gon once again turned his back on Obi-Wan, and the Padawan indulged in making a sour face at his Master's back.
"Wonderful! I know you'll enjoy yourself," Bail enthused. "So, I'll pick you up at the Temple at 9:00?"
"I'll meet you in the lobby," Obi-Wan agreed.
So the matter was settled. He couldn't help but feel a little hijacked by the whole situation. On the other hand, the benefit of being hijacked was that he could tell himself he hadn't really chosen to go on an actual date with the Prince. To a dance club. With the Prince's friends. The Young and Beautiful of Coruscant.
That thought made Obi-Wan's stomach lurch. The Young and Beautiful? Well, he fit the young part, but he knew he wouldn't stand a chance in the beautiful category. Oh, well. It's not like he was out to impress anybody, and as a Jedi he was used to being out of the loop when it came to fashion. They would just have to accept him as he was.
Consequently, Obi-Wan had not changed out of his tunic, even as the hour drew near when he was supposed to meet the Prince. Qui-Gon had mercifully said nothing all day about the impending date, but as the evening wore on, he cast more and more surreptitious glances at his apprentice. At last he could not longer contain himself. "Padawan?" he asked in a deceptively casual voice. "Aren't you going to get ready for your - outing?" Not a date. He knew Obi-Wan would not want it to be called a date.
"I am ready," Obi-Wan replied.
Qui-Gon stifled a sigh at the old Kenobi stubbornness. "Aren't you going to wear something a little more appropriate?"
Frowning, Obi-Wan asked, "What's wrong with my tunic?"
"You are going out for an evening of fun," Qui-Gon pointed out. "You do not need to be representing the Jedi order." This comment evidently took Obi-Wan by surprise, as he had no ready reply, and Qui-Gon pressed his advantage by ordering, "Go change."
Obediently, Obi-Wan returned to his room, only to reappear a few minutes later wearing a perfectly plain, serviceable outfit. Qui-Gon maintained a "placid Master" expression, but inwardly he groaned. Obi-Wan seemed quite determined to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. Technically speaking, he was fulfilling his promise to Qui-Gon to date, but he made it clear he wasn't really interested. Obi-Wan clung tenaciously to his exclusive attachment to Qui-Gon, and he would do nothing to encourage any prospective admirers. Qui-Gon was almost tempted to call off their arrangement, but at least Obi-Wan was going out. Maybe, eventually, he might finally be tempted. And if he continued to spend time with Senator Organa, he would be presented with many choice opportunities.
And really Obi-Wan might well attract admirers. While he hardly dressed to impress, he nevertheless possessed a fresh-faced charm that must surely stand out among the more artful graces of the Coruscant elite. Sooner or later, someone was bound to notice.
"Much better," Qui-Gon finally pronounced. "Don't worry about curfew, Obi-Wan."
A slight pause. "Thank you, Master."
"It's almost time for you to meet the Prince. Enjoy yourself, Padawan."
"Yes, Master." Said as if he were obeying an order, and in a way he was.
There was no point in delaying the inevitable, so bidding Qui-Gon good night, Obi-Wan headed to the lobby. When he got there, Bail had not yet arrived, but he found a suspiciously large number of Padawans lounging around, including Bant and Siri. As he approached them, Siri innocently asked, "Going somewhere, Kenobi?"
"As if you don't know," he countered. "What are you doing here?"
"We're just hanging out," Bant supplied. She did a much better job of faking innocence, but Obi-Wan was not at all fooled.
"Voyeurism is not becoming a Jedi," he observed.
"Why, Obi-Wan, what are you talking about?"
"Is that what you're wearing?" Siri asked.
"I should think that would be obvious."
Siri snorted in displeasure. "Next time you've got a date, consult with me before you pick your outfit."
Before Obi-Wan could reply, Bant nudged Siri, hissing, "He's here." The two women stood, while Obi-Wan turned to face the door. Numerous pairs of eyes around the room likewise focused in the same direction.
As usual, the Prince cut a striking figure, and his three companions were equally handsome. They all wore fine, expensive looking clothes in trendy cuts - poster children for Coruscant's legendary decadence. Make-up, jewelry, body paints - Obi-Wan was suddenly glad he hadn't worn his tunic. He would have looked like their bodyguard. As it was, he felt horribly out of his element.
"Sorry for the entourage," Bail apologized, "but they wanted to see the Temple, even if only the lobby."
One of Bail's companions, a tall humanoid with a body like sculpture and a face like fine art - and just as painted - asked, "Do we have time for a tour? I've always wanted to see the Temple."
Obi-Wan felt an inexplicable pulse of excitement from both Siri and Bant. He shot them a questioning look while Bail replied, "The Temple is not open to casual visitors, Intilli."
"Surely something can be arranged?" she purred.
"Perhaps another time. Obi-Wan, allow me to introduce Intilli, Sharfa Durosun, and Murat Kam," indicating the tall woman, a female Bothan, and a male Gotari.
All three of them were studying Obi-Wan quite openly, and Murat said, "I have been looking forward to meeting you. I've heard so much about you."
Obi-Wan was rather perturbed to learn he already had a reputation, and he noticed a flicker of embarrassment across the Prince's face. To cover for them both, Obi-Wan introduced, "This is Bant Eiren and Siri Tachi."
"A pleasure to meet you," Bail enthused, his momentary discomfort forgotten. "If neither of you are doing anything tonight, you're welcome to join us. We're going dancing."
More excitement from the two Padawans, and Siri looked ready to accept the invitation, but Bant hastily said, "Thanks, but we have plans."
"Perhaps another time, then," Bail offered.
"That would be great," Siri readily agreed.
Turning back to Obi-Wan, Bail asked, "If you're ready...?
The two parties bid each other farewell, Bant and Siri with barely contained glee, and the Prince's party of five went out to his waiting skyhopper. There was plenty of room for them all, but still the Prince cozied up to Obi-Wan, not close enough to be overbearing, but definitely close enough to be noticed.
As the driver fired up the 'hopper and sped into the night, Intilli asked in a bored voice, "Who are we meeting at the club? I hope Tieran won't be there."
"She certainly wasn't invited," Bail assured her. "I know how much you dislike her. But I can't assure you she won't turn up on her own."
"Well, I hope she doesn't," Intilli pouted. "I'd hate to have to pretend to be happy to see her."
Bail shot Obi-Wan an amused grin. "Professional rivalry," he explained.
"Ah," Obi-Wan offered. Facing Intilli he asked, "What do you do?"
She met his question with an expression of horror. "You don't recognize me?"
Embarrassed, Obi-Wan said, "I'm sorry. Have we met before?"
The other three were all giggling now, but Intilli only sniffed. "I highly doubt it."
Trying desperately to contain his mirth, Bail elucidated, "Inti is a supermodel."
"Oh." No wonder Bant and Siri had been so worked up.
Sharfa tittered, "I guess you're not so recognizable after all, Inti."
The model shot her an irritated look, and Obi-Wan offered, "I beg your pardon. I just don't keep up with that kind of thing. What do you model?" As if he had the faintest idea what he was talking about.
Indeed, his offer of conversation only seemed to further insult her. Disdainfully she frowned at the Prince. "Really, Bail, who will you come up with next?"
"I'm sorry Jedi Kenobi isn't fashionable enough for you. He's too busy preserving the freedom of the galaxy."
Sharfa barked a sharp laugh at Intilli's consternation, but Murat attempted to appease her. "Inti, darling, you know you have nothing to worry about. You outshine absolutely everyone."
While Murat plied her with flattery, Bail leaned close to Obi-Wan, his breath tickling Obi-Wan's ear. "High maintenance," he whispered softly. "She's one of Murat's friends, not mine. Personally I can't stand her, but she is fun to tease. I hope she didn't offend you?"
"Not at all," Obi-Wan assured him.
While Murat, Sharfa, and Intilli engaged in some idle banter, Bail draped his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan warmed at the touch, at once pleasurable and unnerving, but he did not pull away. Speaking low so that only Obi-Wan could hear, Bail explained, "Sharfa works for one of the Senate lobbies. She's a good friend. I met Murat at some party or other. I can't remember where."
"What does he do?"
"Nothing. He's an heir."
Obi-Wan's mouth twisted in a grin. "Isn't that what you are?"
Bail cocked an eyebrow at him. Their faces were very close together, so close Obi-Wan could have counted each one of the Prince's eyelashes. "Yes," Bail conceded, "but I have an actual job. Besides, his fortune is worth ten times the entire Organa estate. Nevertheless, he's not so bad."
"And the supermodel?"
"I told you, she's one of Murat's, not mine. I already tangled with one supermodel, and the experience was quite enough to put me off them all together. And I thought the Senate was full of backstabbing politics!" When Obi-Wan merely nodded his head, Bail prompted, "Aren't you going to ask me who it was?"
"I wouldn't know them even if you told me."
Bail laughed lightly, briefly touching his forehead to Obi-Wan's temple. "Except you've already heard of her. It was Tieran. That's why Inti isn't too fond of me. She shouldn't worry about it, though. Tieran hates me now, too. I didn't fawn over her enough."
Across the seat from them, Intilli interrupted, "We've arrived at the club. You can stop whispering about me now."
"Darling, I wouldn't dream of stopping," Bail offered genially. "I know how much you love to be gossiped about."
She shot him a studiously peeved look, then pretended to ignore him as they all climbed out of the 'hopper. There was a long line of people waiting to get into the club, but their party went straight to the door and were admitted without delay.
Once inside, Intilli, Murat, and Bail greeted and exchanged kisses with an endless line of friends, acquaintances, and hangers on. Bail worked his way through the crowd as fast as he could, his arm locked with Obi-Wan's, pulling the Jedi steadily through the club to a reserved table. Sharfa followed close behind, but they momentarily lost track of Murat and Intilli. Several other friends were waiting for them at the table, and as Bail made introductions, one of them, a human named Khieri who was entirely too handsome, gushed, "So this is the famous Jedi! I've been dying to meet you!" He pulled Obi-Wan down into the chair next to him, lacing his arm through Obi-Wan's. "Can I see your lightsaber?"
"Khieri!" Bail admonished, pulling another chair up next to Obi-Wan.
"I've never seen one!"
"I didn't bring it," Obi-Wan explained.
Khieri made a show of dismay. "What if criminals break in here and shoot up the place?"
"Yes, that happens all the time, doesn't it?" Bail quipped. "Fortunately, even unarmed Jedi are quite lethal. You will be perfectly safe, Khieri."
"Lethal, eh?" Khieri's eyes took on a feral gleam. "Have you ever killed anyone before?"
Obi-Wan could sense Bail's irritation, but he had ample experience dealing with inappropriate curiosity about the Jedi. "That is a subject I do not choose to discuss," he answered mildly.
"Too gory, no doubt. Brings back traumatic memories," Khieri nodded with enthusiasm. "Did you see that Rogue Jedi holovid, 'Avenging Force'? Where she strangled those crimelords with her mind? Can you do that?"
Obi-Wan studiously maintained a straight face. If he had a datarie for every time someone mentioned those infernal holos.... "The Rogue Jedi holovids are not a very accurate depiction of the Jedi, neither of our philosophy, nor our skills."
Another woman, whom Obi-Wan remembered as Faritza, asked, "What about in 'Sword of Justice,' when she jumped to the top of that skyscraper?"
"And she rescued the hostages! " Khieri piped up. "I loved that one! Can you do that?"
"Jedi can rescue hostages," Obi-Wan offered, "but no, we cannot leap one kilometer straight up."
"Have you ever seen the Rogue Jedi holos?" Faritza asked.
"Yes," Obi-Wan admitted. "They're quite popular with the younger Padawans. We loved making fun of them."
"But I heard the producers work very closely with the Jedi Council to make sure it's all accurate."
Obi-Wan tried to picture Master Yoda as creative consultant to a vapid series of Jedi exploitation holos. "I'm afraid it's not true."
Bail snorted, unable to keep silent any longer. "Do you really think the Jedi Council would endorse the use of their image on cereal boxes?"
Feigning shock, Khieri said to Obi-Wan, "You mean there's no cereal box with your picture on it?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Too bad," Khieri purred. "I'd love to eat you for breakfast."
Obi-Wan swallowed hard, blushing to the roots of his hair. Thank the Force the lighting in the club was so dim. He'd dealt with Jedi groupies before, but this man was positively predatory. He shifted in his chair, subtly trying to extricate his arm from Khieri's tenacious grasp, but to no avail.
"Is there an action figure of you?" Faritza queried.
"Don't be absurd," Obi-Wan mumbled.
Khieri leaned in closer, cocking a lascivious eyebrow. "Did you ever go undercover as a pleasure slave?"
"I beg your pardon?" Obi-Wan stammered. "Where do you get these ideas?"
"I saw it in a holovid."
"Which one?" Faritza asked curiously. "I didn't see that one."
"It wasn't one of the Rogue Jedi series. It was an adult vid."
Jedi pornography? Obi-Wan was mortified.
"Did you ever have to perform sex in the line of duty?" Khieri continued.
"Khieri, would you do us all a favor," Bail asked in as polite a tone as if he were asking him to pass the salt, "and shut your mouth before you embarrass yourself any further?"
Khieri made a face at him. "What's with you, Bail? All of a sudden you're such a prude!" He turned back to Obi-Wan. "So, will you dance with me?"
Taken aback, Obi-Wan struggled a moment to conceal his distaste. "Not right now, thank you. I'm not ready to dance."
"Maybe later, then?" Khieri suggested, his voice husky.
Obi-Wan gave him a half-hearted smile that he hoped the man wouldn't take as encouragement.
"I'll dance with you, Khieri," Faritza offered.
Khieri eagerly jumped to his feet, and Obi-Wan heaved a mental sigh of relief as the two of them disappeared onto the dance floor.
Bail nudged Obi-Wan. "Let's go get a drink before anyone else shows up."
Obi-Wan nodded his agreement, and they wove their way through the crowd to the bar. After they ordered their drinks, Bail said, "I'm sorry about all that."
"No need to apologize," Obi-Wan offered. "We get all kinds of bizarre questions."
"Including whether or not you have ever gone undercover as a pleasure slave?"
"Well, that one was new," Obi-Wan admitted.
Bail shook his head. "I never realized how obnoxious my friends are."
"They aren't so bad."
"Very generous of you to say so. They're just curious about you."
"So you've been talking about me?" Obi-Wan teased.
Bail froze, acutely embarrassed. "Well, I just - no. It's only - I told them you were a Jedi, and-"
"It's all right," Obi-Wan assured him, laughing. It was strange, seeing the Prince so insecure. Normally he radiated confidence. "The Jedi are used to being the object of scrutiny."
Only slightly appeased, Bail mumbled, "It's not very polite of them to carry on so."
"Few people are as polite as you," Obi-Wan returned, and to his surprise, Bail glanced away, a bashful smile on his lips, as if he had not expected Obi-Wan to compliment him. Not wanting to call attention to Bail's discomfort, Obi-Wan prompted, "So, shall we rejoin the others?"
"We don't have to go back to the table, you know," Bail suggested.
Obi-Wan hesitated. He wasn't quite ready to be alone with Bail on this too-much-like-a-date. As obnoxious as the others were, they provided a buffer between him and the Prince that right now he found he really needed. "It's all right," he offered.
If Bail was disappointed, he hid it with his usual grace. They headed into the crowd, and the Prince's arm slid around Obi-Wan's waist. Obi-Wan had to force himself not to stiffen at the touch. Not that it wasn't pleasurable. Far from it. That was the problem. But he allowed the intimacy, his nerves singing with almost unbearable intensity.
By the time they returned to the table, more people had arrived, the Young and Beautiful, indeed. Every one of them looked like a supermodel as far as Obi-Wan could tell. In truth, they were far too ostentatious for him, but surrounded as he was by people who were obviously on the very cutting edge of trendy, he felt painfully unpolished, as drab as a mud frog among birds of paradise. He quietly sipped his drink while watching the others exchange greetings, pretending to be happy to see each other while in fact assessing who was worth knowing and who was not. Obi-Wan managed to escape being introduced in this round, and as a result he was completely ignored, a fate he did not mind at all. Bail was dragged into several exchanges of fawning chit chat and fatuous kissing before he succeeded in reclaiming his space next to Obi-Wan. "You're awfully quiet."
Obi-Wan just shrugged, burying himself in the last of his drink. "I guess it's just a little overwhelming for me. I feel woefully underdressed."
"True beauty needs no ornamentation," Bail remarked. "You have the advantage over the rest of us, I'm afraid."
It was the kind of flirtatious comment the Prince had often made to him, only this time it didn't seem so artificial, so obviously designed to flatter. This time it seemed genuine, even gallant. Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, flustered at the thought that Bail might actually find him attractive.
And at that moment, Bail found Obi-Wan exceptionally attractive, indeed. He was elated to see that his words had moved Obi-Wan, and for a moment he forgot about all his efforts to seduce the young Jedi. All he wanted was to see Obi-Wan smile, to know that he had given Obi-Wan some tiny bit of pleasure. "Would you care to dance?" he whispered low into Obi-Wan's ear.
The Jedi raised his eyes, gazing up at Bail with a self-deprecating smile that melted the Prince's insides. "Love to," he agreed.
Grinning giddily, Bail took Obi-Wan's glass from him, setting it on the table, then took both of Obi-Wan's hands in his, and standing, led him onto the dance floor.
The song thumping through the speakers was neither slow nor fast, but somewhere in between. Something of a sultry pace with an insistent, erotic beat. Bail took one of Obi-Wan's hands in his, placing his other hand at the Jedi's back, and led him into formal steps. He didn't want his first dance with Obi-Wan to be free form. He preferred something formal, allowing them to be close without making it look like that was what Bail wanted. He could claim the dance demanded it.
Not surprisingly, the Jedi was incredibly graceful. None of that awkward bumping or shifting in wrong directions. Obi-Wan followed exactly where Bail led, moving as smoothly as if they were one body. Unconsciously, Bail slid closer to Obi-Wan, their movements in perfect synchronicity. Not quite pressed together. Oh, no, that would be too obvious. But only a whisper apart, just barely out of reach. Definitely an invasion of personal space. Oh, yes. Closer than Obi-Wan had ever allowed him before, thighs lightly brushing together, hips separated only by the heat between them, the muscles of Obi-Wan's back rippling beneath Bail's palm, Obi-Wan's chin hovering over Bail's shoulder. If he turned his head, his lips would touch the Jedi's cheek, but he did not turn his head, did not press to touch, did not fold his arms around Obi-Wan. Instead he led the Jedi through the steps while the music wound its spell around them, the beat shuddering through their bodies. Bail spun Obi-Wan into a move that separated them until only their fingers touched, the erotic tension stretched out like a spring until it coiled back on itself, Obi-Wan returning once more to his arms, and they resumed that sultry burn, that teasing non-caress.
The song merged into a new one, with a faster, more insistent beat. Bail shifted his hold on Obi-Wan. "You lead this one," he offered. He wanted to know how Obi-Wan would respond, what he would do. The Jedi's lips twitched in an enigmatic smile, and he seized Bail's hands, throwing him into a series of moves, spinning, twisting, each step more elaborate than the one before, and still they retained that harmony of body. The complex moves and fast steps only heightened the sexual tension, and Obi-Wan spun Bail, reversing his direction, his arms crossed over Bail's chest, his body pressed against the length of Bail's back as their hips undulated together, Obi-Wan's cheek pressed to Bail's, and the Prince blissfully closed his eyes, leaning back into the Jedi, and he thought his bones would dissolve in the exquisite heat.
An extra pair of hands settled onto his hips, and Bail's eyes flew open to see Khieri insinuating himself into their dance. Bail growled in displeasure but was drowned out by the music. Obi-Wan once more spun Bail so they were facing each other, but Khieri continued to dance around them like an irritating fly, disrupting their dance. When the song changed, Khieri interposed himself between the two of them, facing Obi-Wan. "You're dancing now. My turn, eh?"
Obi-Wan obligingly took Khieri's hands and, with a quick glance at Bail, led him into a dance, though Bail noticed he kept his distance. The Prince was annoyed, but there wasn't exactly anything he could do about it. He started to head back to the tables, but an arm snaked around his waist. He turned to see Sharfa appraising him. "You know, there are other people here to dance with besides that Jedi of yours."
With a laugh, Bail fell into step with her. Her arms curled around his neck, and she said, "You two looked pretty good out there. Is there something you've forgotten to tell me?"
"No."
"You mean he's still resisting your advances?"
Bail answered her with a sheepish grin.
She laughed. "Senator Organa, I believe you're losing your touch! Still, he's not like the others."
"No, he's not," Bail readily agreed.
Her gaze slid over to where Obi-Wan was dancing nearby, the living incarnation of grace. "A Jedi would probably be worth the wait," she mused. Returning her attention to Bail, she asked, "How long are you going to keep chasing after him before you give up?"
"It's not like that," Bail protested. "He's my friend. I actually like him."
"Unlike your other lovers."
"I like some of my other lovers!"
"You'd better watch out, Bail, or you might end up falling in love for real."
"Don't be ridiculous. You and I both know that will never happen."
She let that comment go, and they concentrated on the dance. When it ended, Bail noticed that someone else had taken Khieri's place with Obi-Wan. He shrugged inwardly. Maybe Kenobi would find someone he liked here, after all.
He and Sharfa headed back to the table, where several of the newcomers crowded around him. One of them, a particularly voracious Twi'lek that Bail had once been stupid enough to sleep with, drawled, "Really, Bail, where did you come up with that guy?"
"Ah, Reefa, is that what you think of a Jedi Padawan?"
"He's your Jedi?" she asked in astonished disdain. "I guess he must be. Only a Jedi would dress so badly. What are you doing with an ascetic like that?"
Struggling to hide his disdain, Bail remarked, "You know, there is more to a person than the way he dresses."
"Yes, there's also what he looks like under those clothes," she leered. "So, do tell. What's he like between the sheets?"
"I wouldn't know," Bail answered simply.
"Don't give me that," she scoffed. "Well, Khieri will find out."
"No, he won't," Bail assured her. He was quite confident of that.
"Khieri always finds out."
"Not with Obi-Wan."
"Is that so?" Reefa drawled, with a hint of interest. "Well, you know how I love a challenge. I'll just have to try my hand with him."
Stifling a smile, Bail graciously offered, "Go right ahead." After all, if he hadn't gotten anywhere with Obi-Wan, a rake like Reefa didn't stand a chance.
But she sure made a valiant effort, and so did many others. An endless line of prospective suitors kept Obi-Wan busy on the floor, and the Jedi politely danced with them all. He was graceful, he was charming, and he was utterly untouchable. They tried flattery, innuendo, and not so subtle gropes, all of which he skillfully eluded. Obi-Wan remained completely immune, cool, but polite. The Young and Beautiful of Coruscant didn't quite know what to make of him. Was he a hopeless parvenu, or was he so outré he was the new style? They were simply not used to anyone resisting them, and the first law of fashion dictated that that which was least accessible was most desirable.
Bail, having long ago fallen victim to that particular law, watched it all in helpless admiration. He was not a shallow man, but with his gifts of wealth, station, talent, and natural charm, he had always gotten everything he had ever wanted. In those very rare incidents when he had ever been denied, it had been easy enough for him to conclude that he had not really wanted it in the first place. But Obi-Wan was different. Bail knew Obi-Wan liked him. He suspected the Jedi even desired him. Yet he refused to act on it. The Prince was thoroughly perplexed, thoroughly intrigued, thoroughly spell-bound. Obi-Wan appeared to him like some tantalizing specter from another dimension, in the world but not of it, forever just beyond his grasp. Bail had no idea what to do about it, could no more free himself from this desire than he could bring it to its completion.
So he did nothing but watch as countless others like him sought to catch the elusive Jedi, only to come up empty handed. For his part, Bail danced with no one else, ignored his friends, dismissed his enemies, and simply watched as Obi-Wan inadvertently became the latest rage.
At last Sharfa, amused by Bail's enchantment, collared him. "Go rescue him," she advised.
Ruefully, Bail dismissed, "He's a Jedi. He can take care of himself. He hardly needs me to defend him from his adoring public."
"Of course he doesn't, but I'm sure he would have more fun dancing with you."
Would he? Maybe. Bail liked to think so. He pushed himself to his feet and slowly wended his way among the dancers, approaching Obi-Wan. He tapped the Jedi's partner on the shoulder. "May I cut in?"
She flashed him a mildly annoyed look, but since she hadn't gotten any farther with Obi-Wan than anyone else, she graciously conceded her place to the Prince.
He slid into Obi-Wan's arms. Was it his imagination, or did Obi-Wan's smile grow a little brighter? Bail certainly thought his own smile could probably supply all of Coruscant with half an hour's worth of energy. They did not speak, just melted into the music. Despite the fact that Obi-Wan had been dancing non-stop all evening, he had barely broken a sweat. But Bail was attuned to a different kind of heat radiating from the Padawan, and he gave himself over to the magic of Obi-Wan's body, the scent rising from his skin, musky and tantalizing. Oh, how sweet to be in the arms of this artless, elegant man. Oh, how satisfying to believe that this man might prefer his company, however slightly, above all the others who would try to claim his attention.
One bead of sweat trickled down the side of Obi-Wan's face, and Bail reached up, brushing it aside with his thumb. "You truly are the most gorgeous creature in this room," he murmured, his fingers ghosting lightly down Obi-Wan's cheek.
The Jedi stiffened, pulling back out of Bail's arms. Eyes lowered, he said, "I've heard enough lines for one night, your Highness."
His heart thudding heavily in his chest, Bail protested, "I didn't mean it like that. Forget I said it. Let's just dance some more." But the crowd of dancers, packed tightly around them, surged forward, forcing them apart, and he lost sight of the Jedi. Distraught, Bail shouldered his way through the press of bodies, earning several nasty looks, but he couldn't find Obi-Wan. It was as if with his words he had broken the spell, and now Obi-Wan had simply vanished, returning to that distant world from which he came. Bereft, the Prince stood alone amid the dancers, jostled about, but hardly caring. "It wasn't a line," he said to no one in particular. "I meant it." No one even noticed he had spoken.
Frustrated, Bail shook himself, not certain who he wanted to kick more, himself or Obi-Wan. Why did Kenobi have to be so sensitive anyway? Maybe he should just admit defeat and quit hoping the Jedi would ever finally accept what Bail was so eager to offer. He sighed and began to worm his way through the crowd again, heading back toward the table.
A hand caught his arm, and he turned to see Obi-Wan gazing steadily at him. "I'm sorry," he offered. "I overreacted."
Bail hesitated, almost pulling his arm away, then thought better of it. He allowed the surging crowd to push him against the Jedi, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Obi-Wan, pressing his body full length against him, letting him feel his arousal. He didn't say a word, just gazed pointedly at Obi-Wan with heated eyes.
Something flickered across Obi-Wan's face, but Bail couldn't identify the emotion. Interest? Annoyance? "Is there some place we can go that's less...noisy?" Obi-Wan asked.
Now that sounded promising! Bail smiled and took Obi-Wan's hand. The club had a number of balconies looking out over the cityscape, and Bail led Obi-Wan to one. They were hardly alone. A number of other couples were crowded onto the terrace, but the thumping music from the club was muted, and the cool air felt good on their heated skin.
They found an empty spot at the railing, and Bail leaned back against it, his arms twining around Obi-Wan's waist.
"Bail," Obi-Wan sighed patiently, sliding out of the Prince's embrace and moving to stand next to him at the rail. Bail let him go, but laced his arm through Obi-Wan's. "We have to talk. I'm very flattered by your interest in me, but I just don't return it."
But Bail would not be so easily put off. "Oh, come on, Kenobi. You don't dance like that with someone you're not interested in." He brushed his hip against Obi-Wan's, striving to appear more confident than he felt. "You're definitely attracted to me. Or maybe you're just a tease?" He certainly felt frustrated enough by Obi-Wan's coy act.
"If anyone's a tease, it's you," Obi-Wan countered. "You won't leave me alone. Just because I might be attracted to you doesn't mean I care to act on it."
"By all the stars, why not?" Bail demanded, unable to understand why anyone would restrain their own passion.
For a moment Obi-Wan was silent. He looked out across the nightscape, his face a closed mask, and Bail was starting to contemplate just shoving him over the railing, when he at last confessed, "I'm in love with someone else."
This stopped Bail up short. He frowned, his brows knit together as he thought through all the possible implications of this statement. One question in particular quickly rose to the forefront. "Then why aren't you with this someone else?"
Another very long pause, and then Obi-Wan shrugged in resignation. "Because he doesn't return my feelings."
Bail nodded his head, and he joined Obi-Wan in leaning on the railing, looking blankly out into the night, but he didn't really understand, didn't understand why this meant Obi-Wan should refuse anyone else. If anything, it seemed to leave the door wide open for Bail. He needed to tread very carefully now, but it was hard to restrain himself. He'd been courting Obi-Wan for over three months now. He had never waited that long for anyone in his life. A thousand possible courses of action tumbled through his mind, but he was far too excited to sort them out properly. He finally mused, "It sounds like you could use a distraction, then." /Don't smile, don't grab him, don't scare him off,/ Bail warned himself, but he couldn't resist offering, "I could distract you."
Obi-Wan ducked his head, but not before Bail caught his wry smile. "Not interested."
"Like hell you aren't!" Bail countered. "It's not like anyone is making you go out with me."
In point of fact, Obi-Wan reflected, that was not true. Qui-Gon was making him go out, but he wasn't about to tell that to Bail, who blithely continued, "Come on. You're not getting any from him. You know what they say: if you can't be with the one you love...."
"But I'm not in love with you," Obi-Wan contradicted.
"Who's talking about love? I'm talking about sex!" Bail struggled to rein in his frustration. Logic was what was called for. The Jedi respected logic, and Bail hadn't been captain of his University debate team for nothing. "You know me," he offered. "My relationships last an average of three weeks. You don't have to stop loving him, but surely by now you're a little frustrated. I can help you with that. We have some good sex, a little fun, and then you graduate to my rank of 'friends.' It's a perfect arrangement."
"I thought we were already friends."
"Then you'll be a friend 'with honors,'" Bail smoothly covered.
Obi-Wan only shook his head, amazed by Bail's outlook. "How can you do that, just have sex with people you don't love?"
"What do you mean by love?" the Prince countered. "I fall in love as easily as falling off the curb on a sidewalk. And it's just as easy to get back up again."
"Falling in and out of love is not what I'm talking about."
Dammit! Who would have thought the Jedi would prove to be such romantics? "Oh, you're talking about Real Love," Bail scoffed. "Like how you're pining after someone who doesn't love you back? I can see it's doing you a lot of good. Frankly, I don't believe in that kind of love."
His cynicism surprised Obi-Wan. "Why not?"
"Because it's a myth! The idea that you will love one person forever." With a derisive snort, Bail elucidated, "Things change, people change. They turn out to be something different from what you thought they were. You just mess things up by bringing love into the picture."
What a cynical attitude! "It isn't always like that, you know," Obi-Wan observed mildly.
"No," Bail agreed. "Sometimes there's unrequited love. What a peach that is! Do you really think your lover's going to change his mind?"
"No," Obi-Wan admitted.
"So why do you hang on to it?"
"It's not like I have a choice."
"Of course not," Bail mocked. "Besides, it makes for such a convenient excuse to keep others at arm's length."
Irritated with the Prince's self-righteousness, Obi-Wan protested, "That's not what I'm doing!"
"Isn't it?" Bail demanded. "What, then? What legitimate reason could you possibly have to waste your time on some idiot who doesn't appreciate you?"
"He's not an idiot!" Obi-Wan snapped.
But Bail was not deterred. "Oh, he's too smart to fall in love with you, is that it? Then you're the fool, burdening him with your misbegotten love."
The accusation stung Obi-Wan, and he pulled back sharply, the bitter venom cutting straight through to his heart. That's not the way it was. Nothing the Prince said was true. Obi-Wan loved Qui-Gon. He loved him. What was so wrong with that? Why did everyone want him to give that up?
Why...why didn't Qui-Gon love him?
Why did he cling to a dream he knew was never going to come true?
What the hell was wrong with him? Wrong with him that Qui-Gon didn't want him? Wrong with him that he should love so stupidly? Wrong. It was all wrong. Dammit, everything was wrong. Obi-Wan turned his face away, fighting back bitter tears, tears unbecoming a Jedi, who should damn well know better.
Next to him, Bail was silent, horrified by his own cruelty. He certainly didn't deserve the Jedi after that. "Force, Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry," he sighed. "That was utterly uncalled for."
"No," Obi-Wan bit out, his face still turned away. "It's true. You're right."
Bail leaned on the railing, burying his face in his hands, swearing fluently at himself in the foulest Corellian epithets he could muster. Obi-Wan had his own choice, his own life. Who was Bail to pass judgment on him? He would make a rotten lover, indeed, if he had proven himself to be such a lousy friend. "Love's a bitch," he sighed sympathetically.
"I know," Obi-Wan bitterly agreed. "I wish I could stop, but I can't."
Bail hesitated, wanting desperately to make up for his cruel words, wanting to prove himself Obi-Wan's friend. "Tell me about him," he offered.
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut against the desperation welling inside him. It all hurt so much, the hopelessness of his rejection, the shame of his infatuation. There was no one he could really talk to about all this. At the Temple everyone would say it was just a phase. And now a cynical, libertine Prince was willing to listen? How ironic. But it would feel good to talk about Qui-Gon, to tell someone. "He's...all the usual things, I suppose." Obi-Wan didn't even know how to talk about this. He was hardly a poet. "Strong, handsome, at least I think so."
"Sexy?" Bail offered.
With a rueful laugh, Obi-Wan agreed, "Most sexy! Oh, I don't know," he sighed in frustration. "He drives me crazy sometimes. We get into such arguments. But he's so sure of himself, so confident, and he has such a generous heart." For everyone except Obi-Wan. "When he smiles, he's so beautiful." How Obi-Wan wished Qui-Gon would smile for him! "He will champion any lost cause." Any one except hopeless love. "He's so different from me, but our differences balance each other. I feel...complete with him."
"Ah, there's your mistake," was Bail's mild comment. "You should not rely on another to complete you. You should be complete on your own."
"I know, but that's not what I'm talking about." Obi-Wan paused, struggling to find the words. "It's not that I'm not whole without him, it's just that together we make such a perfect team, as if we were meant to be together. I've always felt that way, from the first time I saw him, though I was far too young then to think of it in that way."
Realization dawned on Bail, and he blurted out, "You're in love with your master!"
With a groan, Obi-Wan buried his head in his hands. "Pathetic, isn't it? How terribly cliché. It's an on-going joke among the Jedi that all padawans fall in love with their masters at some point. But me, I'm always the over-achiever."
"Is it even allowed?" Bail wondered.
Obi-Wan shrugged. "It happens sometimes, but not for me. He loves me, but not like that. Ironically, if I loved him less, we could probably have an affair. I don't think he'd mind. I suppose he's like you in that way. He doesn't mind a liaison between friends, but he doesn't want to break my heart."
"Too late for that, I'd say," Bail said, not unkindly. He studied Obi-Wan for several long moments, wondering why he liked the Jedi so very much. In a way, his and Obi-Wan's story was not that much unlike Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's, except Bail suffered from unrequited lust, not love. Lust. But then, hadn't Obi-Wan admitted some attraction for him? Perhaps the situation was not so hopeless after all. At least not for Bail. "Well, we make a fine pair," he mused. A slow smile crept over his features. "What could we possibly do to console each other?"
"Bail!" Obi-Wan objected, but the Prince could hear amusement in his voice.
"You think me callous, but I'm not," he said. "I do care. It's just that I don't base my caring on some imagined future that will probably never be. I believe it's best to live in the present moment, to enjoy it while you can, because you never know how long it will last. What's so wrong with that?"
Live in the present moment. Qui-Gon's mantra. Obi-Wan would never have guessed that the Prince and his Master would share the same philosophy. The Jedi believed that if a certain theme kept reappearing in your life, then the Force was probably trying to teach you a lesson. Could Bail be the instrument of the Force? Obi-Wan was not inclined to take such a fatalistic view, but that didn't mean he should ignore a lesson when one pressed itself so insistently upon him. "You have a point," he conceded.
Bail's face lit in a smile, and he turned to face Obi-Wan, leaning seductively on the rail. "So does that mean I get to kiss you now?" he teased.
With an exasperated sigh, Obi-Wan shook his head - but that was not his answer. When a lesson pressed itself so insistently...why should Obi-Wan keep refusing? "You may kiss me on the cheek," he primly offered.
Bail's grin grew even wider, and he leaned forward, planting a kiss on the Jedi's cheek as chaste and innocent as any five-year-old might give. Settling back on the railing, he said, "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"
Obi-Wan inclined his head in vague concession. "I've had worse."
Worse? For pity's sake! This Jedi really would be the death of him. Ah, Bail knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist. "Maybe next time...?"
Stubborn, tenacious, unrelenting. Force, was he starting to recognize himself in the Prince? Surely even a Jedi Padawan, pure and devoted in his love for his master - surely even a Jedi Padawan had some limits. Surely even a Jedi Padawan, loyal, unswerving in his duty - surely even a Padawan could tease a Prince. Maybe even.... Maybe.... "...maybe," Obi-Wan ventured.
Maybe.
But not yet.
~ fin ~