Shifting Perceptions

by Keelywolfe

 

The door chime pealing loudly through his quarters was what woke him, dragging him from the warm depths of contented sleep and into chilly reality. He ignored it for a moment, pulling his pillow over his head in an effort to drown out the noise. It rang out again insistently, making its way through fabric and layers of synthetic cushioning. With a groan he levered himself out of bed, trudging through the living area to his door where his decidedly unwelcome guest was no doubt waiting.

He poked his head out the door, disregarding his tousled hair and lack of clothing. Annoyed words died on Thian's lips when he saw who was there, leaning against the wall outside with his eyes closed and resting his forehead on one uplifted hand.

Silently, Thian held the door open and Obi-Wan walked inside. Thian followed him, shutting the outer door and, after a moment's hesitation, he locked it. It wouldn't hold out a well-trained initiate, much less a Master Jedi but at least it would show in the computer records that the door had been locked.

Obi-Wan had flopped onto the sofa, sprawled out with an arm over his eyes and Thian fought back a sigh. He liked Obi-Wan, he really did but he was regretting getting involved in this whole mess more and more with every second that ticked by.

It was partly your idea, Thi old boy, he reminded himself furiously, tamping down the urge to just wash his hands of this. Obi-Wan was a good friend and he had helped to get him into this and now he was stuck trying to help them all get back out with the minimum of damage. He hoped it wasn't already too late; neither Qui-Gon nor Obi had looked particularly cheerful today and Obi wasn't exactly radiating good humor now.

Tea, Thian decided abruptly, tea would help and he fled to the kitchen to make it, sorting through his wayward emotions. When he finally reappeared Thian had managed to gain a semblance of calm. He handed Obi-Wan a steaming mug, which was accepted silently and settled into the only other chair in the room with his own, looking at his friend, waiting.

By the time his tea was cool, his patience had thinned considerably. "Obi-Wan, are you going to tell me what is going on or are you going to lay on my sofa and mope all night?" he finally snapped out, setting his mug on the wobbly end table with a loud thud. "Because let me tell you, if it is the latter then I am going back to bed." He winced mentally at his own irritable words. Diplomacy was definitely not his strong point.

Nothing. Only a faint sound, a soft, hitched breath that sounded far too close to a sob and Thian abruptly felt like a complete ass. Here his friend was, nearly suicidal for all he knew and he was showing all the compassion of a wookie with a sore paw.

"Obi, I'm sorry, I..." One hand lifted and gestured at him vaguely and Thian was alarmed to hear more of those soft sounds. He rubbed his temples wearily. Why, oh why do these things always happen in the wee hours of the morning, he wondered. The sounds grew louder and Thian leaned forward, reaching out a wary hand to comfort his friend and suddenly Obi-Wan rolled over, clutching at his stomach as he giggled, his eyes meeting Thian's before rolling madly away as Obi-Wan struggled to stop laughing.

"Ohh," he finally moaned, wiping his eyes, still shaking with the occasional chuckle. "Thian, don't ever change. If ever I need someone to give me a hard kick in the butt to get me in gear, I'll be sure to come to you." A loud snort was Thian's only response and Obi-Wan hid his amusement by taking a sip of his now-cold tea, wrinkling his nose but drinking it anyway.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, do you think you could possibly tell me what is going on?"

The lingering amusement in Obi-Wan's eyes faded at the reminder. He sat a moment longer, finishing the cold tea almost absently before he finally began to speak. In hesitant, broken sentences he told Thian everything. What had happened that morning after and what had happened only hours before, pushing aside a small twinge of guilt at revealing such intimate details about Qui-Gon's life.

Thian found himself listening with guilty fascination. His emotions swung wildly from horrified shock at what Qui-Gon had done to his friend to almost pained sympathy for the man. By the time Obi-Wan finished and was waiting quietly, Thian was uncomfortably aware that for one of the first times in his life, he didn't know what to say.

"Obi..." he started, and then fell silent. He fidgeted with his empty cup for a moment before making himself set it aside. "You two have some major problems to deal with," he said finally, knowing he was stating the obvious, but unsure of what else to say. He sighed heavily. "I don't know, Obi-Wan, I'm not much of a therapist. Maybe if you two talked to someone else?"

"No. Not an option, Thian," Obi-Wan said firmly, shaking his head. "If a healer were to hear about this, they'd have to bring it to the Council's attention. I'm not going to let Qui-Gon get into trouble over this."

"Not to mention the trouble we'd get in," Thian added dryly. "I imagine that seducing a Jedi Master would put a hell of a black mark on our records."

Obi-Wan found himself giggling helplessly at that, a little of the tension he'd been carrying for the past few days draining away. When his laughter finally tapered off, he shifted to stretch out on the sofa, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Where is Qui-Gon anyway?" The words echoed into the small room and Obi-Wan peeked out to see that Thian had gone back to make more tea.

"Asleep. He was a little...drained...after our talk," he said almost absently, his thoughts drifting back to their talk. "What am I going to do," Obi-Wan said aloud, softly. He wasn't actually expecting an answer and was startled when he received one.

"Maybe you should do what you originally intended to do," Thian said calmly, as he moved to kneel next to the sofa.

Obi-Wan lifted his arm enough to look into Thian's face. "What do you mean?"

"This all started because you wanted a more intimate relationship with your master," Thian pointed out. "So go back to that."

Obi-Wan's arm dropped away and he stared at Thian openly. "Are you serious? Didn't you hear a word I just said?"

"Of course I did," Thian said, exasperated. "And I also heard you tell me that you were trying to work things out." Thian captured Obi-Wan's chin and forced him to look up. "Obi-Wan, if you really want to stay with him, you are going to have to move forward," Thian said gently. "It's too late to go back to what you were. You can either clean a wound or cut out the bad flesh but you can't make it as if it never was."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. It was true. They had spent the past few days trying to pretend that it hadn't happened and Obi-Wan knew how far that had carried them. "I'm not sure that I can, Thian," he said with quiet honestly.

"If you can't, then you have to leave." Simple, honest, but Obi-Wan flinched visibly at the words. Thian frowned, considering.

"Is it just the idea of sex that's bothering you?" In a blur of motion, Thian rolled neatly on top of Obi-Wan, pinning his startled friend beneath him, and kissed him, deeply but carefully, ready to pull away at the slightest hint of unease. But Obi-Wan responded, a bit hesitantly in his surprise, and then returned the pressure warmly. The kiss was very sweet and drawn out and both of them were vaguely disappointed when it was over. Obi-Wan sighed and wrapped his arms around his friend, pressing his face into Thian's chest.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Thian chuckled, somewhat breathlessly. He pulled back a bit and propped his chin up on his hand. "Then it's the idea of sex with Qui-Gon that's bothering you?" No response and Thian shrugged. "Only one way you're going to get over that, my friend. Throw the rider back on the tauntaun and all that philosophical shit."

Obi-Wan muffled a snicker against Thian's chest. "You have to soul of a poet, Thi," he said wryly, lifting his head to look into Thian's face. "And it doesn't -bother- me. I mean," he flicked his eyes away from Thian's, focusing on the ceiling instead. "He didn't really hurt me, not physically."

"Mental wounds are the hardest to heal."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at that, "Thank you, Master Yoda." Twisting, he dumped his friend onto the floor. Thian landed with a thump and a startled yelp. He glared at Obi-Wan as he rubbed his abused backside.

Shrugging, Obi-Wan smiled innocently. "It's late, I'd better be getting back."

Thian's expression grew serious again. "Obi-Wan, if you don't think you can deal with this, then you should let it go. I mean it. Maybe you two would be better off apart for a little while..." He trailed off, sighing at Obi-Wan's expression. "Or maybe trying to get a real relationship going with him will help." Thian shook his head. "I don't envy you, my friend. From what you told me it isn't going to be easy."

Obi-Wan gave him a shaky smile. "Nothing with Qui-Gon ever is." He turned to leave but just as quickly turned back. "Thi?"

Thian gave him a guarded look. "Yeah?"

"Thanks." And he kissed Thian again, hard, stroking his tongue deeply inside the other padawan's mouth before pulling back and saying huskily, "You may not be much of a therapist, but you are a good friend." Thian nodded dumbly and Obi-Wan turned to leave again.

"Wait!" he called and Obi-Wan gave him a questioning look. "For what it's worth, Obi, I hope you work things out." Obi-Wan grinned and nodded before he turned again and left.

Thian stayed on the floor, casting a rueful glance down at his very aroused body before raising his eyes skyward. "And if things don't work out, don't come back to me," he muttered under his breath. "Because next time you're staying and taking care of the problems you start."

 

---

The room was dark, the curtains pulled against the lights of Coruscant and only soft breathing broke the silence.

Obi-Wan sat on the floor next to the bed, watching Qui-Gon breathe. The faint rise and fall of his chest was barely visible in the dim light, his hair a dark smudge around the paler circle of his face. Earlier, Obi-Wan had put his master into this bed, tugging the man's boots and belt off before tucking him fully dressed under the blankets. Qui-Gon had sat on the edge of the bed mutely, making no sound except for a relieved sigh when the blankets were finally settled around him.

It had been so very strange, taking on the unfamiliar role of protector. Qui-Gon had done this for him a dozen or so times, when he'd been sick or overly tired. Once when he'd been extremely drunk and Qui- Gon hadn't scolded him at all, just tucked him beneath the blankets and soothed him into sleep.

Force, it had been a long time since he had thought of that, several years at least. He'd only been fifteen and certainly not old enough to be drinking but Qui-Gon hadn't punished him, had even held him when he'd found his padawan hovering over the 'fresher, sick and shaking. Obi-Wan smiled a little at the memory. Qui-Gon had told him later that no punishment was more effective than letting the alcohol run its course. He had to admit, that punishment had certainly worked. He hadn't overindulged since.

Punishment.

He trailed a hand lightly over the soft blanket covering the bed and remembered what had happened the last time he was in this bed. He had hardly recognized his master, couldn't believe what was happening. All he'd been able to think of was maybe if he did this, maybe if he did what Qui-Gon asked they could at least go back to what they'd had before. Maybe.

Then to see Qui-Gon as he had last night...he'd learned things about his master that he had never suspected, never even dreamed of.

It made him wonder just how well he knew this man.

A lock of hair had fallen across Qui-Gon's face and Obi-Wan reached out and stroked it back, tucking it behind the older man's ear. Qui-Gon made a soft sound and shifted slightly and Obi-Wan froze, hardly breathing until Qui-Gon stilled again.

Sitting closer now, Obi-Wan could make out more of Qui-Gon's face, the tired lines that Obi-Wan had just now noticed were easing. Thian had been right, Obi-Wan thought suddenly. His vision of Qui-Gon had been altered by this, not just the sex but by this entire situation. Looking at Qui-Gon, now he saw someone different, not a master or a teacher, not an icon that he looked up to and secretly desired but a man. Just a man, one who could love and could be hurt by that love, one who could feel as confused or unsure as Obi-Wan sometimes did. Who could and did make mistakes, sometimes terrible ones but who was strong enough to try to live with the consequences.

Qui-Gon had fallen off the pedestal that his Padawan had built beneath him, and fallen hard, but Obi-Wan couldn't help but think that perhaps it was better that way. No one could ever have lived up to that image, not even Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan smiled very slightly at that thought and he realized that he didn't want Qui-Gon to. The man, he decided, was better than the god.

They couldn't go back to what they had had, even if Obi-Wan had wanted to. Which, Obi-Wan admitted with a wry twist to his lips, he didn't really want to anyway. No matter what had happened between them, he still loved Qui-Gon, loved this -man- and he would do anything to stay with him.

He sighed again, resting his chin on the mattress as he watched his master sleep. Now if he only he was sure that Qui-Gon felt the same.

 

---

A faint sense of discomfort and coldness made Obi-Wan open his eyes what felt like only a moment later, He blinked in the dim light and found Qui-Gon only inches away from him, lying on his side and watching him.

Eyes meeting, they were silent for a long moment before Qui-Gon finally spoke. "Obi-Wan, why are you sleeping on the floor?" Sleepy, faintly amused tone and Obi-Wan relaxed to hear it.

"I was watching you sleep," he admitted, stretching and wincing as his cramped muscles protested. "I guess I fell asleep too."

"Well, you don't need to sleep on the floor. Come on." Qui-Gon tugged at Obi-Wan's arm gently, then more persistently, coaxing him into standing and in moments the younger man was tucked under the blankets and into Qui-Gon's side, still fully clothed.

"There," Qui-Gon sighed, shifting up on his elbow to look down at Obi- Wan and the younger man caught his breath as he realized how very close they were, Qui-Gon's face only inches from his own.

*He's going to kiss me * Obi-Wan thought giddily, that last of his sleepiness draining away into growing apprehension. He wanted it, knew that he wanted it but still...

His nerves were practically vibrating now as Qui-Gon stared down at him and Obi-Wan swallowed hard, trying to work up some saliva in his suddenly dry mouth. Hop back on the tauntaun Thian had said. Sure, no problem. He closed his eyes, unable to watch any longer and waited, lips nearly tingling in anticipation of contact.

Nothing happened.

Instead, Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open again as he felt Qui-Gon's head settled on his chest, as if listening for the younger man's heartbeat. Strong arms slid around Obi-Wan and held him gently as Qui-Gon sighed again, pressing his nose into his padawan's tunics and inhaling deeply. Another sigh and Qui-Gon was still, his breathing deepening as he sank back into sleep.

Obi-Wan lifted is head up to stare down at Qui-Gon's in disbelief. What the hells? Qui-Gon hadn't kissed him. He hadn't even tried. Obi-Wan hadn't even been certain that he wanted Qui-Gon to kiss him but now he was perversely annoyed that Qui-Gon hadn't. With a faint snort he let his head drop back with a loud thump, automatically soothing Qui-Gon when he murmured in his sleep. Oh well, at least they were lying together now.

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan let go of his annoyance and instead relished the feel of holding Qui-Gon so closely. He was still smiling faintly as he drifted off to sleep.

 

---

The sensation of being uncomfortably warm was what woke him the next day. Shoving the blankets off, Obi-Wan sighed in relief at the cooler air as he rolled back over. Sleep eluded him though and finally he surrendered, sitting up and stretching. He grimaced and wiped a sleeve across his damp face, looking down at himself. No wonder he was sweating, he'd gone to bed fully dressed.

That thought brought back memories of the previous night and a tentative touch through the bond that he and Qui-Gon shared found his master in the outer room. A flicker of awareness pushed back at him; Qui-Gon knew he was awake.

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan breathed deeply, centering himself and pushing away a flash of anxiety. Better to do this now and get it over with, he doubted he could spend another day like he had the last few, surrounded in exhausting tension. Then there was last night. He remembered Qui-Gon's expression the night before as his master had pulled him onto the bed, the warmth that he had not seen in days and for the first time since this had begun, Obi-Wan believed that this might be all right.

Shifting to his feet, Obi-Wan walked to the door and peered out hesitantly. He could hear his master moving around in the kitchen area as he edged out the door and into the common room. Qui-Gon walked out at the same moment Obi-Wan finally nerved himself to walk in and they both froze briefly, eyes meeting and holding.

Qui-Gon was fully dressed, even to his boots and cloak, obviously intending to go somewhere. He looked as impeccable as always, a perfect example of a calm Jedi master, at least to someone who didn't know him. Beneath the thin veneer of his master's calm, Obi-Wan could nearly feel the vibration of the older man's emotions, a swirling turmoil beneath the surface that ate away at Obi-Wan's burgeoning hope. He could only wonder at what Qui-Gon saw in his own eyes.

It was his master who spoke first, breaking the moment.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said, clearing his throat, "I think...you may have the day to yourself. I'm..." Qui-Gon hesitated, his eyes flicking away from his padawan's. Something hard and painful was knotting in Obi-Wan's stomach and he swallowed hard, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around his middle like a lost child.

"Obi-Wan," his master continued softly, "I know that we still need to talk, but I would like some time to meditate about this, I..." His calm was visibly wavering and one hand rose briefly to his head, rubbing his temples as if his head ached. "So much has happened, Obi-Wan," he said finally. "And it has been rather forcibly pointed out to me that I have some personal issues that I need to deal with. I just need to think about this."

The silence stretched awkwardly between them. Words failed Obi-Wan, what could he say to that? Protest his master's request, one that was certainly understandable considering what Obi-Wan had learned the night before? It made his own heart throb afresh to recall Qui-Gon's pain.

Belatedly, he realized Qui-Gon was waiting for a response from him and he nodded, quickly murmuring some appropriate response. A faint expression of relief showed through Qui-Gon's mask of calm and he turned to the door, leaving Obi-Wan behind him. The young man had a strange feeling of growing smaller as Qui-Gon walked away, a rush of cold certainty slapping into him that if he let Qui-Gon go through that door then he would never see him again.

"I am not Xanatos." Softly, barely more than a whisper but he knew Qui- Gon had heard him, saw the sudden tension in his master's shoulders. He stopped, just inside the door and the one hand hanging loosely at his side slowly tightened into a fist.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see Obi-Wan from the corner of his eye. "I know."

Then he was gone.

As soon as the door was shut, Obi-Wan turned and went back to bed, this time stripping off his tunics and pants before crawling under the blankets. As long as he had the day to himself he decided he might as well make good use of it and there was no such thing as too much sleep.

 

---

The hallways were crowded with the usual midmorning rush, the push of different beings against each other as they all tried to get to their various destinations. They jostled Qui-Gon as he walked, each murmuring their own apologies and excuses, yet to the Jedi master it was merely a drone of sound. It was all he could do to keep walking, one foot in front of the other as his steps carried him away from his quarters.

The bustle of the crowd thinned as he made his way deeper into the Temple, away from the common areas. He slowly made his way to one of the balconies that were reserved for meditation, ignoring the protest echoing in the back of his head as he closed the door to indicate that this balcony was in use. It was one of the smaller ones, only meant for single meditation with the cityscape visible over the short wall surrounding it.

Closing the door, he flipped open the control panel next to it and activated the privacy shield. The dull roar of midmorning Coruscant was cut off abruptly, the outside world closed out just as he was enclosed within so that he wasn't inadvertently broadcasting his thoughts and emotions to every being in the Temple. The shields gave him silence and solitude if not peace.

Settling himself on a thin mat that was placed thoughtfully in one corner, Qui-Gon closed his eyes and allowed the Force to flow through him. His first sense was that this was not where he should be and that impression he pushed aside gently. He already knew that he needed to speak yet with his padawan and having that thought press on him constantly was not going to provide him with any of the resolution he wished to find here.

This was something he needed to do; he had put it off for long enough and if he and Obi-Wan were to move on together then he needed to come to terms with Xanatos and with himself. Just thinking of his former padawan's name caused a surge of pain from a long festering wound in his heart. It was far past the time to be healed from this, he knew, and now he was using his old hurts to hurt Obi-Wan, and that was unacceptable.

He had that to consider as well. Bitterness welled in him at the memory and he let it the emotion fill him, held it before his eyes and examined it, the way one would look at a curious object, before he released it and allowed it to drift away. It would never leave him entirely, that he knew, the memory of one of the most terrible things he had ever done in the entirety of his life.

We always do the most terrible things to the ones we love, he thought, a trace of bitterness still lingering within. Or have the most terrible things done to us by those we love.

Finally he let go completely, releasing his hold on his consciousness and giving himself over to the Force, allowing its sweet embrace to hold him and soothe his ragged emotions, like a loving mother comforting her long-lost child.

 

---

Coruscant was not the cleanest of planets. Although the levels of pollution were now far lower than they had been even a few centuries ago, it had been more of a case of far too little too late. The entire atmosphere of the planet depended on the artificial bionetwork to provide the environment that most species required to survive. Effective and efficient, although it would never surpass the charm of the ecosystem balance provided in the natural world.

And it was somewhat dusty. No matter that you kept the windows closed at all times, the fans from the ventilators blew a thin layer of dust into every room in the Temple, excluding the Council Chamber that ran off of its own ventilation system to ensure privacy. The Temple did provide an automated cleaning system but it was often shunned when Jedi were not away on missions. Especially if said Jedi had a padawan, since it was widely believed that a little extra work caused no harm. It was a theory that often changed when padawans passed their trials but most Jedi masters prudently didn't discuss that.

Qui-Gon was such a master and Obi-Wan had been required to keep their quarters neat and tidy from the moment he had first entered them under his new title of padawan. It was a duty he had often grumbled about, albeit silently because he learned very quickly that doing so aloud often resulted in extra chores. He disliked it but he did it, even as he secretly looked forward to torturing his own padawan someday.

In all the time that he had been a padawan, today was the first day that he had appreciated the mind-numbing effort of housecleaning, going through the repetitive motions on autopilot as he tried to ignore his master's continued absence as the day continued on.

The shadows over the Temple were lengthening when his doubts finally managed to push their way to the forefront of his mind. He'd given up on Qui-Gon coming to the evening meal and had eaten sparingly himself, leaving a plate for his master should he choose to come. Wandering past the table, Obi-Wan picked at the congealing food on the plate before sighing in disgust and taking it to the kitchen, scraping the food into the recycler and washing the plate furiously.

His master should have come home by now, how long could someone meditate without eating? If he'd bother to admit it to himself he knew it could be some time; he'd seen Qui-Gon do it himself, lower his metabolism and stay within a trance state for days at a time. Some Jedi masters could go for weeks. As a child, Obi-Wan had asked his master once why he didn't try an extended meditation. The older man had replied calmly that he felt that while a trance state was a lovely place to visit, he had no plans to go for an extended stay. His voice had become somewhat wry then and he'd tapped Obi-Wan on the nose, telling him that someone had to stay to keep an eye on mischievous padawans.

At the time, he had rolled his eyes and rubbed his nose indignantly. But now, standing here alone elbow-deep in soapy water, he found himself wishing Qui-Gon would tap his nose like that again, just once.

He hoped he would at least see Qui-Gon again.

The sun had long since descended over the horizon when he finished cleaning the kitchen area, and Obi-Wan wandered out into the common room, flopping down on the sofa with all the grace that could be expected from an exhausted padawan. Idly, he picked up a datapad and scrolled through the information on their upcoming mission. They were supposed to be leaving in two days and they hadn't even discussed the details yet. Perhaps when Qui-Gon returned they would...when he returned. If he returned.

"He's not coming back." The words sounded oddly loud in the stillness of the room, and Obi-Wan flinched slightly to hear them aloud. He studied the white of the ceiling, ignoring them even though he was the one who had spoken. They refused to be ignored, echoing through his mind no matter how hard he tried to push them aside until he began to believe them. Qui-Gon was not coming back to him.

There was only the sound of his breathing, increasingly fast as he closed his eyes against certainty and panic. No. This was not something he was going to allow. Standing, he quickly shoved his feet into his boots without bothering to fasten them and dragged on his cloak before he walked with calm determination out the door.

 

---

The main hallways were as crowded as usual; those from nocturnal species were rising to go through their nightly routines just as those who preferred the daylight hours were returning to their rooms to sleep. Obi-Wan made his way slowly through, smiling briefly at the occasional greetings he received from other padawans.

He walked for nearly an hour before finally stopping, sinking down on a nearby bench. The hallway was deserted and Obi-Wan discarded proper Jedi decorum and lay down, letting his legs hang off the end of the short bench.

It was useless. If his master was even still in the Temple, Obi-Wan couldn't feel him. Reaching through their bond only led him to a blank wall, which meant either Qui-Gon's shields were up or he was behind another shield of some sort, with both possibilities likely.

Sighing, Obi-Wan reached up and pillowed his head on his hands. This wasn't supposed to have happened like this, none of it and for just a moment he keenly wished that none of this had ever happened and that he could return to the beginning of the week when he and Thian had come up with their plan. Just as quickly he let the wish slip away. As Master Yoda had often said, yearning for the past brought nothing but heartache and empty hands.

He closed his eyes, exhausted by his efforts through the day and from the stress of the past week and he was nearly asleep when he felt it, just the faintest tug at the back of his mind. Obi-Wan stood without opening his eyes, following that gentle pull like a sleepwalker.

He didn't know how long he walked in half-trance, moving through the Temple like a silent wraith but when the sensation finally faded he was standing in front of a closed door with no doubt that Qui-Gon was on the other side.

The door was locked, as Obi-Wan had expected but he knew Qui-Gon's primary access code as well as he knew his own and when he tapped it in the door slid open with a soft hiss.

The sun had long since gone over the horizon and the small balcony was cloaked in the deep shadows of Coruscant's night. He could see Qui- Gon's outline in the far corner, kneeling, and Obi-Wan crept forward warily, not wanting to disturb him and yet not wanting to leave either after having found him.

"You never did have much patience."

Obi-Wan nearly jumped out of his skin at his master's soft words and his nervousness melted away at the faint humor in Qui-Gon's tone. At least he wasn't angry.

"You didn't come home for evening meal," he replied, as if that explained his presence. He knelt down across from his master, waiting silently to see if Qui-Gon would allow him to stay. He felt faintly foolish now, trailing after his master like a lost pet instead of the adult he was supposed to be. Still, now that he was here he'd be damned as a Sith before he'd leave without being told.

Long moments ticked by, each second raising Obi-Wan's apprehension a notch until finally he heard an exasperated sigh.

"It's very difficult for one to meditate by themselves when they are not alone, Padawan." There was still that slight touch of amusement in Qui-Gon's voice and Obi-Wan smiled to hear it.

"Yes, I know, but there was something I needed to tell you. You rushed out so quickly this morning that I never had a chance." Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released it, steeling himself. He'd had all day to think of what he wanted to say and he'd never have a better opportunity. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

He could hardly see his master's face in the darkness but he heard Qui- Gon's indrawn breath and Obi-Wan cut off his protests quickly. "No, listen to me. Please." A pause and Qui-Gon nodded slowly. Another deep breath and this was more difficult than he had thought it would be. After all that had happened between them he had fancied that the words would be nothing but it seemed that courage was needed to say things that he had only thought before.

"I love you," Obi-Wan finally blurted out. He hurried to explain before Qui-Gon could respond. If he didn't say this all now he wasn't sure he could do it again. "I know it must not seem that way to you and I'm not asking you to excuse what I did, I don't have that right. But I'd at least like to explain."

He took his master's silence as consent and continued. "It was the only way I could think of to get to you. I was so sure that you'd wake up and see me and..." The words choked to a halt, his throat too tight for speech in memory. He had been so sure of Qui-Gon, had thought he'd known his master so well and discovered a man that hadn't even known existed. But, oh, he did love that man, so very much...

Wetting his lips, Obi-Wan managed to whisper softly, "I didn't consider what my actions would do to you and for that I am sorry." He managed a faint, bitter laugh. "You were always trying to teach me to think my actions through carefully..."

Qui-Gon finally broke his silence to murmur, "It would seem that I am in need of relearning that lesson as well, my padawan."

"No." He pressed his fingers against Qui-Gon's lips. "We aren't discussing that. You talked about that yesterday and today it is my turn to talk."

"Obi-Wan..." he said around his padawan's fingers and Obi-Wan covered his master's mouth with his palm instead.

"Is it so difficult for you to be silent for a few minutes?" he asked, exasperated. He could feel Qui-Gon smile behind his hand. "All I want to tell you is that I'm sorry. And I love you. I wanted you to know that it wasn't about sex, or at least not all of it." Aware that he was rambling, Obi-Wan pushed on desperately, hoping that some of what he was saying was getting through. "And no matter how you feel or don't feel about me I want you to come home and...and just be with me. However you want to be." Apprehensively, Obi-Wan pulled his hand away and waited.

"Am I allowed to speak now?" Dryly said and Obi-Wan smiled a little.

"Yes."

"Obi-Wan," he started and then hesitated and Obi-Wan felt his heart fall down to his stomach. Qui-Gon at a loss for words was never a good thing. He had seen the man weave impromptu speeches at the worst of times. That he couldn't speak now did not seem to be a good sign.

"Obi-Wan," he repeated softly, and he lifted a hand to the younger man's cheek. Obi-Wan leaned against its warmth almost helplessly, willing to take any tiny shred of comfort while he sat there with his heart in his hands, waiting to see if it would be accepted or shattered beyond repair.

"Padawan, I knew that you loved me. And I was just getting ready to return home when you got here."

Obi-Wan blinked, his jaw unhinging as he stared at his master. "Why didn't you say something!" he blurted out. He didn't need to see Qui- Gon's face to know that he was amused.

"And spoil your speech?" Obi-Wan was still sputtering for words when he felt fingers pressed against his own lips. "I know that this is going to come as a great shock to you, my Padawan, but I do possess some small amount of insight."

He stared in wonder as Qui-Gon leaned closer to him and pressed a soft kiss against his lips, pulling away before Obi-Wan could gather his wits enough to respond and he shifted to speak softly into Obi-Wan's ear.

"I accept your apology, Obi-Wan, and I forgive you." Barely a sigh and yet it felt as if the weight of Coruscant was lifted from Obi-Wan's shoulders. Leaning closer to his master, he wrapped his arms around the older man's waist and just held him.

"It took you an entire day of meditation to figure out that I love you?" Obi-Wan asked, his words muffled against Qui-Gon's chest. He hadn't thought it was that much of a secret. Certainly Thian had figured it out. He felt Qui-Gon inhale deeply, sighing before he spoke.

"No. I knew that before I walked out of our quarters this morning. It was what to do with that love that I meditated on," his voice hardened slightly. "As well as about Xanatos."

That had a faintly ominous sound to it, but surely it was all right? He doubted that Qui-Gon could hold him like this and still be contemplating leaving. "What did you figure out?"

"Nothing more than the obvious. I never dealt with what happened between Xanatos and I. I just pushed it aside until I'd almost forgotten about it entirely. Today I made myself recall it, everything. That's what took me so long."

"And?"

"And I let it go. Those memories are not to be forgotten, but they have nothing to do with my life now. Nothing at all."

"I meant, what did you decide to do about me?"

Silence greeted that question, and for a moment there was nothing but soft breathing beneath his ear and the caress of fingertips barely brushing his cheek as Qui-Gon lightly fondled his padawan's braid. Obi- Wan doubted the older man was even aware he was doing it, so lost in thought as he seemed. "I hadn't," he said finally, thoughtfully, "That's why I was going home."

Tilting his head up, Obi-Wan rested his chin on Qui-Gon's chest to look up at him. The older man was leaning back against the low wall surrounding the balcony. His eyes were closed, a hand moving to rest on Obi-Wan's back, rubbing gently. For all his words, he radiated a calm contentment that Obi-Wan was loathe to disturb. Perhaps he hadn't decided what he wanted but the fact that he was going to go home spoke for something.

This could be enough, warm and comfortable with each other as not just master and padawan but as friends. It was more than he had hoped for and perhaps less than he deserved and yet...as much as Obi-Wan wanted this, he wanted something more as well and the only way he was going to get it was to push forward. His nerves prickled slightly at the thought but he ignored the tinge of fear. Qui-Gon didn't seem opposed to a relationship but he also seemed to have no intentions for pushing for one. It seemed that this would be up to him.

"Master?" he said softly, lifting his head a bit further so that his breath gusted lightly against Qui-Gon's neck. His master made a soft questioning sound, his hand pausing on Obi-Wan's back.

"You told me that you forgive me, yes?" Leaning up, he brushed his lips against the line of Qui-Gon's jaw, following it to his ear and relishing the older man's sudden indrawn breath. "You forgive me. But do you trust me?" He held his breath, waiting for Qui-Gon to answer, nearly terrified of what his master would say. His heartbeat was pounding so loudly in his ears by the time Qui-Gon spoke that he almost missed the soft whisper.

"With my life." There was the faintest tremor in his master's voice but Obi-Wan took him at his word. Hardly believing his own daring, Obi-Wan moved forward until he was straddling Qui-Gon's hips and he reached up to cup the man's face in his palms.

"Then trust me," Obi-Wan whispered, and softly kissed him. He traced the seam of Qui-Gon's lips with the tip of his tongue, begging for entrance and they parted, allowing him to delve into the warm wetness inside. Not familiar but also not unknown to him and there was a brief memory of taste and touch before the moment eclipsed the shadowed recollection.

His hands still holding his master's face, Obi-Wan explored the features that he couldn't see in the darkness. The beard was rough against Obi-Wan's fingers, softer skin above, the smooth plane of the forehead all framed by a length of soft hair. Caressing with fingers and palms, he learned his master again by touch, as he had that first night and for once thinking of that night didn't bring a shaft of pain. Instead there was the warmth of remembered pleasure, shared ecstasy and for all that it had been wrong, it had still been wonderful, Qui-Gon touching him, loving him though he hadn't known who it was.

Drifting lower, his fingers dipped under the edge of Qui-Gon's tunics and found warm skin beneath them. They parted like water beneath his questing hands, stopped only by Qui-Gon's belt and for the moment Obi- Wan allowed that barrier. He pressed his palms flat against his master's chest and simply felt, silky skin covering firm muscles and beneath it beat Qui-Gon's heart, rapidly, like a scared tarque bird.

Obi-Wan's head sank down to rest against the older man's chest and he listened to that wild rhythm a moment, the rush of blood beneath his ear that proved his master lived. Turning his head, he kissed the spot where his ear had rested, his tongue flicking out to lap a path to the dark nipple only centimeters away. Qui-Gon inhaled sharply, his own hands clenching into fists.

"Obi-Wan..." he started, his voice breaking as his padawan nipped at the small nub hard enough to send a shock of pain rippling through him. Obi-Wan sucked the abused flesh gently, soothing the tiny pain he had caused.

Hand reached up to catch at his shoulders and Obi-Wan flinched backwards from the touch. "No," he said sharply, then more gently as he calmed himself. "No, just let me do this, please." He wasn't ready for that yet, not yet, wanted just a bit more time to explore his master on his own.

There was no pressure to do this, none, he knew; he could feel it. If he walked away now, Qui-Gon would let him go without a word of protest. Not that he had any intentions of leaving, not with the chance of getting everything he had ever dreamed of sitting before him, but he was determined to set his own pace.

"Obi-Wan," his master tried again and Obi-Wan heard the concern in his voice this time, the guilt and he hushed it with a kiss.

"Shh," Obi-Wan whispered, his breath gusting softly against Qui-Gon's sensitized lips, "You said you trusted me. Do you?"

"Yesss..." he hissed, tilting his head back and exposing the column of his throat to his padawan's interested gaze. He shifted back up and nibbled against that smooth line, his lips brushing over the rougher texture of Qui-Gon's beard before capturing his lips again.

Tongues meeting, they explored each other's mouths greedily. Obi-Wan sucked gently on Qui-Gon's lower lip, pulling a shiver from his master as Qui-Gon caught his face in one large hand and tilted it up, tasting the delicate skin beneath the younger man's chin.

The tips of Obi-Wan's fingers trailed down to his master's waist, neatly loosening the belt and sash with the familiarity of touch. Lifting up, he let Obi-Wan pull the offending clothing away, the younger man pausing to quickly strip away his own robes. Bare skin met as they embraced and they both hissed at the contact, lips meeting again hungrily.

Without releasing his master's lips, Obi-Wan neatly loosened the ties of Qui-Gon's pants, cupping the firmness of his shaft briefly through the fabric. Qui-Gon made a pained sound against his mouth and arched up slightly, his hips seeking and Obi-Wan complied, slipping a hand between cloth and skin to capture the satiny length of his master's cock in his palm.

Soft wetness caressed his fingers as Obi-Wan fondled the eager flesh. He moved closer, stifling a whimper as fought his own urges. He wanted to hold his proof of his master's need in his hand, wanted to taste the salt of skin, wanted to rub his own erection against it and his frustration grew as he was unable to do all three.

Pulling back completely, ignoring Qui-Gon's cry of protest, he kicked off his boots, now silently grateful he hadn't fastened them as he doubted he had the patience to maneuver the half dozen buckles. He stripped off his pants and tossed them aside, the pale fabric vanishing into the darkness around them and forgotten instantly.

Already moving to straddle Qui-Gon again, he fumbled briefly with his belt before tossing it the way his pants had gone, his fingers struggling stupidly to find a small tube. Opening it, he filled his palm with cold gel, letting it warm before he wrapped his hand again around Qui-Gon's cock.

"Very sure of yourself, aren't you?" Qui-Gon gasped out, eyes closing as he pushed up into the careful touches that were preparing him.

"How do you mean?"

"Somehow, I doubt that you carry that with you all the time."

"One should be prepared for all eventualities," he recited. Whatever comeback Qui-Gon had been about to say was lost as Obi-Wan shifted forward, positioning himself. He couldn't help comparing it to the last time, so markedly different; cold tile beneath his knees instead of blankets, a soft breeze gusting in from over the balcony wall to shiver across his skin. And Qui-Gon seeming to not even be the same person, no cold, closed anger. He was as open to Obi-Wan as he had ever been, need, affection, all his emotions laid bare to the padawan's senses.

"Look at me," he ordered and Qui-Gon's eyes opened languidly, seeming impossibly blue in the dim light. Holding Qui-Gon's eyes with his own, Obi-Wan lowered himself in carefully degrees. Hands clutched his hips and Qui-Gon moaned almost desperately but he didn't break their gaze. Biting his lip, Obi-Wan pushed down harder and felt just the tip slide inside him.

It burned, his unprepared body opening reluctantly to the invasion and Obi-Wan could see the concern in Qui-Gon gaze but he ignored it. He needed this, just like this, more than he cared about a tiny bit of pain. Burying his face against his master's neck, he rocked slightly forward and then back, taking a little more of that hard length inside with each motion until his backside was resting on Qui-Gon's thighs.

Sighing in something like relief, Obi-Wan squirmed slightly, willing his body to relax and accept. Qui-Gon made a soft, muffled sound against Obi-Wan's shoulder at the movement and with a smirk the younger man repeated it, dragging a sharp cry from his master.

Leaning backwards, Obi-Wan rolled his hips forward in an easy motion, finally allowing Qui-Gon's frantic hands to move him. The older man was making low, harsh sounds deep in his throat and Obi-Wan doubted this would last very long and suddenly he couldn't wait any longer as well, a surge of something that could only be called pure lust rushing through him. -He- was the one causing Qui-Gon to make those sounds, his controlled, contained master wanted him, Obi-Wan, not a nameless stranger, not Thian, no one but him. They moved as one, delicious pressure building between them as Obi-Wan managed to slide a hand between them, clasping his own neglected cock and stroking in time to the deep lunges inside.

Droplets of sweat slid down his face, stinging in his eyes but Obi-Wan didn't care, couldn't care. All his attention was focused on that one point of joining, on the thickness moving in and out of his body with almost painful urgency. Strong arms pulled him downward hard and he yelped in surprise and then nearly screamed as a shock of unsuspecting pleasure jolted him. Dimly, he knew it was Qui-Gon's pleasure he was feeling, could feel the surge of liquid warmth inside as his master came, forcing his own orgasm. They shuddered together, fiery pleasure ricocheting between them and Obi-Wan lost himself to the burning sweetness felt both within and without.

Collapsed against Qui-Gon's chest, Obi-Wan was distantly relieved that the shields were up. The way he felt they could have broadcast this to the entire Temple by accident and that would have made it difficult to go to the morning meal the next day.

Qui-Gon's hand was weakly trailing across his back in what Obi-Wan assumed was supposed to be a soothing gesture. He sighed, shifting to lay closer to his master even as he grimaced at the stickiness between them, evidence of his own pleasure. Sleep was coaxing him downward but he resisted. One more thing to do, just one more and then he could rest. He felt as if he could sleep for a millennium.

"Qui-Gon," he said softly and the older man made a questioning noise, seeming nearly asleep himself. "Qui-Gon, I forgive you."

His master stiffened and Obi-Wan wondered briefly if he'd pushed too far, reminding Qui-Gon of what had occurred between them before when they were still in the afterglow of what had just happened. Closing his eyes, his hands tightening into fists, he waited.

An eternity later, Qui-Gon relaxed, a sigh ruffling the fine hairs around Obi-Wan's ear as the older man murmured, "Obi-Wan, I think I might be in love with you."

Silence greeted those words until Obi-Wan managed to say, dryly, "Thank you for that strong declaration." Qui-Gon laughed softly, shaking Obi- Wan against his chest and his arms tightened, holding Obi-Wan close when he would have squirmed away.

"I love you, my wicked little Padawan," he whispered, nuzzling Obi- Wan's ear. The tightness in Obi-Wan's chest eased and he moved to kiss his master, sweet tenderness in their embrace in the aftermath of their shattering passion. He allowed Qui-Gon to tip him backwards, hissing in complaint about the cool tiles against his overheated skin. It was promptly forgotten at the feel of a warm mouth trailing down his chest.

Knotting his fingers into Qui-Gon's hair, Obi-Wan arched upward, arousal already rising within him. So different from the man he had thought he had known, he thought hazily, this Qui-Gon who was not his master but his lover. Different from the man had thought that he knew and loved, but he thought he could get used to it.


-finis-
 

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