Lies We Tell (QuiObi)

[raptureofthemoon]

Someone sent me #21 - Cheat - from this prompt list. For QuiObi


“Obi-Wan, did you and Master Qui-Gon break up?” Anakin’s question came out in so quick a rush a breath that Obi-Wan strained to follow it.

From the moment Obi-Wan retrieved Anakin from Qui-Gon’s quarters to spend the day together (a monthly promised he kept when on Coruscant and off duty), he’d known Anakin had wanted to ask him something.

That was the last question Obi-Wan expected.

Obi-Wan set aside the gentle chastisement that Jedi did not “date” as the outside world did.

“Why do you ask that?”

Anakin’s eyes grew wide. “Ummmm.”

“Anakin?”

“It’s just…. Master Qui-Gon and Knight Rolene have been eating dinner together a lot. And Master Qui-Gon usually eats in a big group of Knights and Masters or alone with Master Windu when you’re not around and I just thought—I don’t know.”

“Master Qui-Gon is free to spend his time with whomever he wishes,” Obi-Wan said. He knew Knight Rolene. 15 years Obi-Wan’s senior, he was a friend of Qui-Gon’s and one of his former star pupils in a series of diplomacy and negotiation courses Qui-Gon taught.

Anakin frowned. “I guess so.”

They continued their walk toward the public gardens. Anakin soon caught onto another topic, but Obi-Wan kept returning to Anakin’s question. It caused something to clench and coil in his belly as he thought back over his last few layovers on Coruscant. They had been short and Qui-Gon had been brief with him. Obi-Wan chalked it up to his reticent master’s usual sick-but-healing moods; his recovery from the incident on Naboo was slow. Yet, something in the back of his head—a tiny, niggling thought that he’d been loathe to pay attention to—connected with another.

# # #

“Force,” Obi-Wan whispered as he collapsed onto the mattress, sticky, sweaty, sated. He turned his face toward his lover. Qui-Gon lay down beside him, grinning, stretching the length of his body like a giant cat, firm thighs and just-beginning-to-soften belly catching Obi-Wan’s attention and pulling it up to the puckered scar over his master’s sternum.

“You’re on medical leave for how much longer?” he asked.

Qui-Gon laughed softly. “Until I pass the barrage of tests they set me. They estimate a few more weeks. I’m afraid sexual endurance is not one of those tests,” he finished, with an arch look at Obi-Wan.

“I’d be happy to provide testimony to your vigor.”

“Appreciated, but unnecessary. Besides, running after Anakin is an assigned part of my physical therapy. Tell me, what’s on the docket for your next mission?”

They talked about Obi-Wan. Where he’d been, where he was going, his adventures navigating the Council now that he was on his own as a Knight, his day with Anakin.

“He misses you.”

“I wish I were here more often.”

“The first year is always busy for a new Knight,” Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan detected and undercurrent of wistfulness. “What will you be doing until you get your next screening?”

“I’m taking each day as it comes.”

“I know. Live in the moment. But you must have some plans?”

“There’s a Saffa exhibit I’m thinking of going to,” Qui-Gon said.

“Since when were you interested in Saffa? You always told me it was an overrated period.”

“With all the time on my hands, I find myself reconsidering some old opinions.”

“When is it?”

“Thursday afternoon.”

“I ship out that morning. I would have liked to come with you.”

“Next time.”

# # #

It was a lie. It had come to Obi-Wan in the moment, tangling sinuously around the vision of Qui-Gon’s lunches with Knight Rolene and Anakin’s question.

Obi-Wan’s transport didn’t leave until late evening on Thursday. He looked up the Saffa exhibit, found a single ticket worth several of his monthly stipends.

He was there, just inside the gift shop, dressed in colorful civilian clothes, when Qui-Gon arrived.

Obi-Wan had muted the bond on his end. It didn’t take much. It had been weak since Naboo. The intervening weeks where they were able to spend time together after Qui-Gon’s release from the healer’s ward had only just begun to mend it as they explored their newly confessed feelings.

As Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon smile at tall, lithe Knight Rolene and take him by the elbow to lead him into the exhibit, Obi-Wan wondered about those feelings.

He tracked them carefully through the museum, blending in with the crowd.

They were decorous. As good Jedi should be. But their body language, the way they leaned toward one another, tucking their heads close to murmur about a particular piece, or guiding one another to different displays, or the way they stood, shoulder to shoulder, but not quite touching. It all spoke of a familiar intimacy that made Obi-Wan’s stomach tighten.

Over an hour later, he watched them slip into a cab to head back to the Temple.

He followed shortly after. Standing outside of Qui-Gon’s rooms, he considered the lock. It was engaged. The light indicated the quarters were occupied. He thought about knocking, thought about unlocking the door (Qui-Gon had never removed his print from the panel).

He placed his palm on the center of the door, closed his eyes.

A moment later he turned and half stumbled away from the door before he caught his breath, straightened his spine. He went to his assigned Knight’s quarters, retrieved his already packed back and headed for the temple garages.

He was about to get into a speeder, when a voice stopped him.

“Running, you are.”

The hum of the repulsor chair had alerted him to Master Yoda’s presence, but the words still caused him to wince. “I have an assignment.”

“Hmmph. Face your fear you must or follow you it will.”

“I think I’m not the only one that needs to face his fear,” Obi-Wan said.

“Know this well, I do. Qui-Gon… Difficult padawan he was. Not much has changed as Master. But one's perspective nearly becoming one with the Force always changes.”

Obi-Wan half turned. “Maybe it’s too much change too soon.” It had taken some time to admit that he’d been thinking that since Qui-Gon woke up on Naboo, since he’d taken Obi-Wan’s hand in the bed in the medical wing and hadn’t let go.

Master Yoda’s eyes softened, his ears twitched. “Perhaps. On your mission go, Obi-Wan. Come back prepared.”

Obi-Wan gave a shallow bow before slipping into the car and heading toward the mooring tower. By the time he boarded his off world transport, the impression of two Force signatures twined around one another was fading into the back of his mind.

# # #

A few weeks later, Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant, having completed his mission ahead of schedule. He sent his report to the Council en route and arrived in the middle of the night, so there was nowhere for him to be, no distractions to be had and only so much time he could spend in his quarters unpacking those things that needed cleaning or mending.

It wasn’t much later that he found himself, once again, outside Qui-Gon’s quarters. He put his hand to the lockplate and the door slid open.

Qui-Gon was awake, in a sleeping robe, sitting on the sofa. He looked up when Obi-Wan came in, a flicker of surprise at the corners of his eyes. His mouth twitched into a smile, but it faded as Obi-Wan met his eyes.

There were two glasses on the long table and the scent of good whiskey lingered in the air, along with something subtle that was headier, muskier. Qui-Gon’s scent mixing with another’s. Obi-Wan pulled his shields tighter around him but the look in Qui-Gon’s eyes told him that their bond was humming with the hurt that had settled deep in his belly.

“Well,” he said. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Nothing you don’t already know,” Qui-Gon said evenly.

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” Obi-Wan half scoffed. “How long?”

Qui-Gon hesitated. “About a month after our return to Coruscant.”

“And when were you planning to tell me – ah – you weren’t. You weren’t.” Obi-Wan turned, paced into the small kitchenette and back again. “I’m used to you keeping things close to the chest, but I wouldn’t have expected this of you. But perhaps I should start. You seem to do your damnedest to always do the unexpected, professionally and personally.”

“Obi-Wan—“

“We could have talked, Qui-Gon. Don’t you think this change has been a weight on my mind as well? One moment you’re dismissing me in front of the Council, the next dying in my arms and then confessing your inappropriately long-held feelings for me. Too much change, too soon.”

“You’re right. We can talk now.” Qui-Gon was quiet, voice calm. So calm that it almost left Obi-Wan speechless as his own heart seemed to want to rise into his throat.

“I just have one question. Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon said.

To anyone else, the answer might have seemed decisive, solid as durasteel. But Obi-Wan felt the pause between question and answer. Barely the space of a heartbeat, but it was there, emphasized all at once by the bond they shared. A hesitation resulting in a sudden gap between them that yawned wide as the greater Crystal Canyon.

Feeling as though the air had rushed out of the room, Obi-Wan resisted the urge the wrap his arms around himself.

“This…is obviously something I should give you space to think about,” he said.

He doesn’t know what he expects as he walks out the door. For Qui-Gon to cry out, apologize, plead for him to stay.

But Qui-Gon made no sound.

And as the door shut behind him, Obi-Wan clenched his teeth to avoid making any himself.