Title: It's Just the Sniffles
Fandom: Star Wars
Warnings: fluff, possibly unfinished
Disclaimer: Lucas! Not me! It's all him, baby!
Summary: Obi-Wan has the sniffles... Qui-Gon has the upper hand
Note: This was intended to be a long fic... so it's either a short or unfinished... as I'll probably never come back to it, I figured it didn't hurt just to post it
It's Just the Sniffles
Qui-Gon sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a box of tissues next to him. He reached over and stroked his Padawan's forehead gently. "Well, that settles it, we're staying home today." Shaking his head, Obi-Wan tried sitting up, but Qui-Gon eased him back down. "Oh no you don't."
"The reception is tonight. We need to help prepare. We--"
"The only thing you're going to be doing is staying in bed unless you'd rather I escort you to the healing dome. Those are your choices."
Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his nose. "I am not sick."
Laughing. "Sure you're not. You're just running a temperature and sneezing every two minutes. That's perfectly normal, right?"
Obi-Wan grumbled, crossing his arms. "It's sniff, sniff, just the sniffles."
The only time Obi-Wan was disagreeable or even remotely refused to follow orders was when he was sick. Knowing this fact well, Qui-Gon shook his head. "Perhaps it is just the sniffles now, but you know how many times we've been through this. Sniffles turn to sneezes, then to a head cold, then the fever kicks in with the aches and chills and altogether miserableness. I do not want the whole contingent catching cold, and I certainly do not want you running about with the preparations. If you're no worse by tonight, I'll consider letting you go to the reception. Otherwise," he said, adjusting the covers to tuck them to the sitting man's waist. "You'll be staying right here and taking care of yourself. All right?"
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and gave a smile. "I'd rather if you took care of me."
"Ohhh, would you now?" He caressed the young man's cheek. "Master Qui-Gon gets to play doctor, hmmm?"
With a sly smile, "Or nurse."
Qui-Gon grabbed a spare pillow and hit Obi-Wan upside the head with it.
"Not very nice!" Obi-Wan explained, righting himself with a pout. "ehhhishh! ehhhChish! Sniff! Taking advantage of the sick."
"If that's what you call taking advantage, my Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly, a hit of playfulness in his eyes. "Then I think the Master will need to teach his Padawan a lesson on their day off." He dove beneath the covers.
Obi-Wan smiled a moment, then gasped with pleasure, throwing his head back. "I think I like this lesson," he whispered. Chuckling, "Will there be a test involved, Master?"
Qui-Gon's head poked out from beneath the blankets. His hair was messed and clung to the blankets from static. But his face wore a bright grin. "Undoubtedly. Best to practice as much as you can for it."
And accordingly, Obi-Wan slipped entirely beneath the covers as well to make full use of staying home a day with Qui-Gon before the full extent of the illness sank in.