When it comes... by Master Yo-Gurt
Archive: Master & Apprentice, all others please ask
Category: PWP, POV
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An old poem reminds Obi-Wan of what he has with his Master
Disclaimer: Yes, George, Qui and Obi are yours! Satisfied? And if I would make
money out of this story I would immediately invest it in further SW collectibles.
Notes: The poem "O tell me the truth about love" comes from a collection of
poems by W.H. Auden and was written in the 1930ties. I have left out one stanza
of it, so if you want the complete poem, just give me a buzz. A reference is
made to an occurrence described in WriteStuff's story "But For Grace".
Feedback: Yes, please to quigon_jinn21@hotmail.com
When it comes ...
It was late at night when I came home to our quarters from some
knighthood celebration of a, now former, fellow Padawan. Qui-Gon had
been more than relieved to see me enjoy myself in the company of "my
peers" as he liked to call them. Peers in age perhaps, but certainly
not peers in what my Master and I shared.
I closed the doors to our quarters and hung my robe next to it. My
boots followed and I tip-toed to our bedroom.
When it comes ...
Qui-Gon lay fast asleep, or so I thought. Rain was gently tapping
onto the window, rather typical for the last period of the year. No
moonlight illuminated his features that night, yet I could see his
face in my mind as clearly as if it had been bright day light. So
familiar was every square inch of him to me. He lay there on the bed,
on his back, only partially covered by some thin linen.
When it comes will it come without warning ...
I stood in front of the bed for a while, watching him breath in,
breath out, slowly. As peaceful as he only seemed to be when he was
sleeping. How I loved to see him so free of care, something rarely
awarded to him in his role as Jedi Master, diplomat, teacher. One
hand was draped across his broad chest, the other gently gripping the
sheets next to his body; his strong legs almost exposed to the groin
but not quite as much as to reveal one of his most "alluring" assets.
What a pity I thought, but I'd soon remedy that.
I watched on in silence and looked - and still couldn't quite believe
what had happened between us such a short while ago.
"Obi-Wan?" Hm, it seemed Qui-Gon wasn't asleep after all, only
dosing, and I sat down with a slight sigh.
"Sorry to wake you, Master".
He stirred in bed, rolling onto his side, sleepily looking at me.
"Did you have a nice time with your friends, Obi-Wan?", he asked
sleepily, and I knew he didn't really expected an answer from me.
"Hm? Oh, yes, it was quite nice. You would have loved it."
Some say that love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
And some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.
"What was that?"
"What was what?", I asked while I sat down onto the bed and tugged
off my tunic.
"Whatever it was you just had on your mind, Padawan. That ... was it a
poem?"
Oh. I had forgotten. "Yes, a very old poem someone at the party
reminded me of tonight. I'm sorry if I have ... " Another part made
it's way into my mind.
Does it look like a pair of pajamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does it's odor remind one of Llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is its harp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.
"I don't quite see how an emotion like love can smell," Qui-Gon
grunted as I proceeded to get out of my leggings.
"I think I'll forget my PJs for tonight", I laughed and saw a faint
smile on the face of my lover.
"What in the name of the Force are Llamas, Obi-Wan?"
"I guess some ill-smelling creatures like Eopies or Dewbacks". I had
no real idea what imagine the author was trying to draw with those
particular creatures, but somehow they struck me as funny.
Finally devout of my clothing I lifted the covers and slipped
underneath them with Qui-Gon.
"Hm", he stretched his arm around my shoulder and gently patted my
hair. "Yes, I think I can say for sure my love has the prickliness
and the softness as well," he said as his hand ran over my hair and
ended up onto my cheek. I moved so I lay with my back closely against
his strong, warm body. "I could return the compliment, Qui, something
in my lower back does feel somewhat prickly as well", I laughed and
he gave me a small slap onto my arm.
Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of rail-road guides.
I snuggled up closer to Qui-Gon, whose body warmed mine, whose arms I
found a welcome shelter from all the frantic "relationship machinery"
I had encountered that evening with my friends.
"Master, why is it so hard to find satisfaction with what you have?
Why is it that love can be the most destructive thing someone can
encounter?"
He pressed me closer to him. "I don't know, Padawan. It just seems
sometimes, if you don't know how to deal with love, it is better to
never have felt it's power over you". The words hit a fresh spot, as
very recently one of the Master had committed suicide over the
unrequited love she felt for her Padawan. I shivered, trying to push
that gruesome image of her out of my mind. "The subject of suicide
notes ...", I murmured to myself. No, not with Qui-Gon and me!
My lover must have felt my shivering and as I recalled that
particular incident in the Temple had rattled not only me, but I knew
my Master as well. He reached out to me through our bond and spread a
comforting blanket of peace and serenity over my mind.
"Hush, Obi-Wan, don't you worry. It is different with you and me.
Nothing like that will ever happen to us."
Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first rate imitation
On a saw or Steinway grand?
Is it's singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
Or tell me the truth about love
Right now we were quiet, enjoying each other's closeness and comfort.
We were at ease with one another. There were other occasions, many
other occasions, when we just could not keep from yelling, shouting
our pleasure to anybody who would or wouldn't to listen. Our
love-making often was passionate, wild, daring, consummate. But for
now, the quiet breathing and nibbling of my Master at my neck, and
his hand softly caressing and holding my chest was all that I needed
and wanted from the world.
"That is not to say that I couldn't have been a riot at your place
tonight, Obi-Wan!" He chuckled and I had to agree. He was a private
man, my Master. But I had known him on occasions to switch from his
usual quite, contemplative mood to a downright out-going, fun-loving
one. It was just a side not many people got to see of him.
"Yes, you certainly could have been. But think about what all the
other Masters would have to say about that!" He cuffed me in the
side.
"So what?" I smiled and kissed his hand to hold him closer still.
Can it pull extraordinary faces? -- "Can it? You should see
Qui-Gon during a council session!"
Is it usually sick on a swing? -- "Obi-Wan does get space sick
from time to time."
Does it spend all it's time at the races, or fiddle with pieces of
string? -- "Well, thinking back to Watto and Ani's pod-race ... "
Has it views of it's own about money? -- "A Jedi no worldly
possession seeks, and no, Republic credits will NOT do fine!"
Does it think patriotism enough? -- "We are the peace keepers of
the Republic, my young Padawan."
Are it's stories vulgar but funny? -- "Never! Well, mostly not.
At least, when we are not in bed, they are not!"
Oh tell me the truth about love.
"Obi-Wan, can't you get this poem out of your head?" Qui-Gon shifted
me again so that we lay side by side, facing each other. "As
beautiful as it is... it's... distracting from our ..." . I kissed him
gently.
"Almost done, love. But you know how I am with these things. Once I
get started on them, I just have to finish them." He looked into my
eyes with sheer delight, catching my drift.
"Of course, Obi-Wan, of course," as he returned the kiss to me.
When it comes does it come without warning?
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on the door in the morning?
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will it's greetings be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether -
O tell me the truth about love.
