Disclaimer: The great flannel one. Not I. I make no money
off this.
Part 1
"I'll com
you tonight sniff, sniff, about the
details," Obi-Wan said, offloading nearly all of the books and papers onto
Bant.
She 'ooof'ed but smiled and accepted it all. "And I'll finish up
these banners after my master and I spar."
Obi-Wan
nodded. "Snfff!" And
he rubbed the butt of his hand against the base of his nose. "Sniff, SNIFF! Master Qui-Gon and I are supposed
to, sniff, have dinner now."
"Then you
had better go," she said, tilting her head in the direction of the door to
Obi-Wan's quarters. "If you're having dinner, you'll need to clean up first." Obi-Wan
stared at her confusedly but her head bobbed up and down in a subtle,
encouraging, 'trust me' sort of nod. "And feel better.
Get rid of that sniffle, Obi."
The comment
had come just as he'd reached up and rubbed his nose with another strong
sniffle. He nodded to her and said goodbye. Then he ducked into the quarters he
shared with his master.
He found
the rooms warm and smelling of spices, though he suspected they smelled much
better than he could discern with his nose all stuffed up. //Well,
there you are, Padawan.// Qui-Gon, wiping his hands on a dishtowel, stepped
back and into view around the partition that divided the kitchen from the rest
of the common area. "How nice of you to grace me with your
company. At this late hour I'd thought you'd forgotten about taking
dinner with me."
"I'm sorry,
Master," Obi-Wan apologized with sincerity. "Sniff! I had a lot of , sniff, sniff, work to do for the festival."
Qui-Gon
nodded and disappeared into the kitchen area for a few minutes only to come out
again with a stack of dishes and silverware in one hand and a pot in the other.
He set the things down on the table, gave Obi-Wan a strong look, then returned
to the kitchen to retrieve the side dishes and drinks, two more short trips in
all. "I see," he said as he walked back and forth, making sure his voice was
loud enough to be heard clearly but speaking in a casual, light tone. "And you
felt that working on schedules, flyers, and banners was more important than
keeping a promise and appointment with your master?"
Obi-Wan
hesitated to answer. It was true that he should have kept his promise, or at
least commed his master to let him know he was
running late. But the festival was largely his responsibility- and one of his
first major ones within the Temple,
at that. The festival was to include hundreds of participants and literally
thousands of visitors, all of whom needed to be pleased. Yet he loved his master
and, even more, the quiet times he could spend with the man outside of
training. But he wasn't supposed to put those feelings before his duties, no
matter how much he loved having dinner with Qui-Gon. And Qui-Gon has sounded as
much the affronted lover as the disapproving master. Obi-Wan did not believe it
was entirely fair to have to rate his commitments in this way, especially when
it all boiled down to simply losing track of time during a very busy day.
"Question
retracted," said Qui-Gon, who had been reading his padawan easily. He set down
the water glasses. "I'm glad you're home," he said warmly. "Now, come over
here, My Own. Let me get a good look at you."
Remembering
Bant's advice about washing up, Obi-Wan grudgingly
obeyed. He put down the datapad and small stack of
papers he had not handed over and walked to his master. He sniffed hard a few
times as he walked, wanting to get his nose in order first and deciding
sniffing at a distance was better than sniffing and ruining any sort of warm sentiment.
Qui-Gon
held his arms out in welcome, and they greeted as usual, with Obi-Wan hugging
Qui-Gon round the middle with his arms wrapped around tightly, and with Qui-Gon
similarly wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon gently kissed the top of Obi-Wan's
head. "You look quite unwell," Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan rubbed his cheek into
Qui-Gon's chest and could not help but sniffle twice from his terribly runny
nose. "And you sound sniffly." He stroked the back of
Obi-Wan's head with a soothing touch. "Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea for
you to be up and about just now."
"Sniff?" Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon,
blinking. "I don't need to be in bed. It's just a little sniffle, Master. Sniff, sniff!" He nuzzled his face into
Qui-Gon's chest. "I can put up with a bit of a runny nose."
"You look
exhausted, Padawan Mine." Another stroke to his head, this time determining
Obi-Wan had a normal temperature, and Qui-Gon's arms tightened the hug.
"This
festival is a very important deal and I'm proud to have been put in charge of
it. In a few days it will be over and I will be able to sleep. Until then I can
fight this. I'm a Jedi, and this is just a little sniffle in my nose. There's
no need to worry about me, all right?"
"Mmm," Qui-Gon replied noncommittally. Then, "I believe the
dinner's getting cold."
Part 2
It was
early yet when sleep slipped away and Obi-Wan regained his consciousness. He
blinked twice, trying to evaluate himself and decide whether or not he would be
able to fall back to sleep. In his current condition, he was doubtful. Especially as his nose immediately began to tickle. No
wanting to wake his master who was lying right up against his back, Obi-Wan
propped himself up on an elbow with the intention of slipping out of bed and
going to the bathroom to blow his nose.
Suddenly, however,
Obi-Wan took a sharp breath in that he could not control. "KSchhhhhttt!" Obi-Wan blinked again as
Qui-Gon groaned himself awake and Obi-Wan suddenly realized he'd sprayed his
master's arm. Obi-Wan rubbed a curved finger against his nose and sniffled. "So
sorry," he whispered. He reached for a tissue and dried Qui-Gon's arm.
He felt Qui-Gon's
hand pet the back of his head, then Qui-Gon's lips
kiss the back of his neck. "It's all right," Qui-Gon said, breaking into a yawn
just afterwards. "Good morning, Padawan Mine. How are you feeling?"
Obi-Wan
simply sniffled.
"Padawan?" Qui-Gon slid his hand over and tugged Obi-Wan's
braid until the young man turned his head. "I asked--"
"Yihh-Shuuhhhhhh!" Thankfully, he missed
Qui-Gon's face, but unfortunately sprayed his chest. Obi-Wan coughed and closed
his eyes. "I'm so, so sorry."
"I said
it's all right." Qui-Gon kissed his cheek gently. "Now should I even bother to
ask how you're feeling? Or should I just get up and make a pot of tea and
contact Bant to tell her you're sick and spending the day in bed?"
"No!"
Obi-Wan exclaimed a bit too overzealously. Then he sniffled and rubbed his
finger under his nose. "I mean, I don't think that's necessary."
Qui-Gon
stared him down, Master-to-Padawan, taking in all the little details that added
up to it being absolutely necessary for Obi-Wan to spend a day or two in bed
getting over whatever he had contracted. And Obi-Wan, well aware of what that
stare meant, did his best to hide what evidence he could. He turned his eyes
away so Qui-Gon wouldn't see they were bloodshot. He tried to control his
breathing which was starting to grow unsteady. He cleared his throat and
sniffled, hoping his voice sounded clearer when he spoke next. "Really, Master,
it's just a sniffle."
But as he
spoke, what little control he'd gained was quickly lost. His face fell and
breath caught. "YihChuhh! IhhhShuhhh!" He cupped a
hand to his face and sniffled wetly.
"And
sneezes, too, I see," said Qui-Gon, with another penetrating sort of look.
Obi-Wan
tried to look confident. "But this cold is all in my nose, Master. Go on, feel
my forehead. I don't have a fever, just a sniffly,
tickly nose cold. I can work around it. You know I'm capable of that, surely."
Qui-Gon
must have, because his stern expression of concern faded. He laid a hand upon
Obi-Wan's temple and petted gently. Obi-Wan found himself
leaning into the touch, encouraging it by moving his head against it. But he
stopped himself before he was completely overtaken by the comfort. Too much
neediness would make Qui-Gon worry all over again.
He put on a
strong, convincing smile. "I will be able to handle my job and my cold." He
sniffed hard and gathered himself up into a sitting position in order to begin
morning meditations, having calculated that their normal morning affection and
snuggling time had been exceeded. "There's no need to worry about me," he
reassured Qui-Gon, before closing his eyes and easing himself into a Force-guided
trance.
"Mmm," replied Qui-Gon with quite a bit of doubt in his
voice. He yawned again and stretched, then sat up and joined his padawan in
meditation.
Part 3
"On behalf
of the Jedi Order, I take great pleasure in welcoming you all here today,"
Obi-Wan whispered, trying not to look down at the datapad
on the sink counter in front of him. Instead, he kept his eyes focused straight
ahead at the mirror and his reflection in it. "This festival is..." He paused,
feeling the unavoidable tickle creeping up on him.
He raised
one arm and buried his nose in the crook. "IhhhChoo! Snuff! Yihh-Chushhh!" He lifted his
head and wiggled his nose. "Sniff, sniff, sniifffffffff!" The
hand not holding his speech reached over to the box of tissues by the sink. He blew
one-handed then coughed a half dozen times into the tissue, hoping it would
muffle the sound well enough. All the coughing he'd been doing this afternoon
would surely wake his master up from his nap if the sneezes didn't do it first.
Obi-Wan
cleared his throat and began at the top of the page. "On behalf of the Jedi--"
"Padawan?" Obi-Wan glanced to the side to see Qui-Gon
standing in the 'fresher doorway. "You're practicing your welcome speech for
the festival?" Obi-Wan nodded. "Good for you." He stepped forward, leaned
close, and kissed the top of Obi-Wan's head. "I'll leave you to it, then."
Glad to be
left alone to practice, Obi-Wan sniffed, cleared his throat, and began again.
"On behalf of the Jedi Order, I take great--"
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon popped back in again with an amused
expression. "It's all right. I'm awake. No need to whisper any more."
Obi-Wan
looked down at the datapad as a rosy hue filled his
cheeks.
"Padawan?"
Obi-Wan
cleared his throat and turned to Qui-Gon with his hands up. "First, Master, there's
no cause for alarm," he whispered as loudly as he could, which wasn't much. "And
second--"
He didn't
get to second before his master exploded. "No cause for alarm? You've
completely lost your voice!"
"I can
still whisper," he stressed. "With a microphone, there won't be any problem.
See?" He cleared his throat. "On behalf of... of..." His nose twitched and his face
fell. And he directed the sneeze into his shoulder. "YihhChooo!" When he lifted his head, he
saw Qui-Gon standing behind him, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
Two hot,
strong hands found their way onto Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Nice try. But you're
sick, and you're absolutely not going to the festival."
Obi-Wan's
eyes widened at Qui-Gon's reflection in the mirror, instead of looking over his
shoulder at his master. "But I've worked so
hard at it. It's all I've thought about for weeks. And to be asked to deliver
the opening was such an honor. Sniff!
Sniff! I just can't give up now."
"Taking
care of yourself when you're very ill is not giving up, Padawan."
Obi-Wan
coughed and shook his head. "But I'm not very ill. It's just a sniffle and a
few sneezes."
"And so
much coughing that you've lost your voice," Qui-Gon pointed out.
"But I
don't have a fever!" Obi-Wan said, trying to get above a whisper in order to
prove his point. However most of the words were silent and bits of the rest
came out in as a few high-pitched squeaks. He reached up to the mirror and
pulled open the door to the medicine cabinet behind it. Quickly, his hands
reached around, searching desperately for a thermometer. Whispering again, "You
can take my temperature right now if you don't believe me. I don't have a
fever. I'm not sick--"
Obi-Wan
went silent as Qui-Gon's arm mirrored his and a hand grabbed his wrist, holding
it still. "Padawan, I believe you. And even though your temperature is normal,
you're still sick."
"But..."
Obi-Wan stammered, trying to think of something to say. "But..."
"'But' is not
a sentence," Qui-Gon said in his best teacher voice. "And neither is it a
reason I should allow you to compromise what little health you have." His hand
slid up Obi-Wan's arm and massaged the shoulders firmly. His thumbs reached up
and brushed Obi-Wan's jaw. "There will be many other festivals and ceremonies.
And there will be other chances to prove yourself to
everyone."
"Ihhhh..." Obi-Wan's eyes slammed closed and his
hand snapped up to his face, cupping around nose and mouth just in time so he
didn't sneeze all over the refresher. "Hitchuhhh! YiiihhChschhh!
IhhhShhhh!"
More
shoulder-rubbing accompanied Qui-Gon's gentle, "Bless you, Padawan Mine." And a
soft kiss sealed the sentiment. The kiss blended into a nuzzle,
with Qui-Gon breathing warmly into the top of Obi-Wan's head, short fuzzy hair
and all. "Let Bant cover the opening this time. You've certainly taken much
care with the preparations. I am confident that the festival will run smoothly
with you in bed. I want to see you take care of your cold, now." His hands slid
down and wrapped around Obi-Wan in a hug.
Completely
unable to say no to such overwhelming persuasion, Obi-Wan sniffled and nodded. "Yes,
My Master," he whispered, closing his eyes. He set the speech aside and turned
in Qui-Gon's arms, snuggling into his chest. "I know you need to be at the
festival," he whispered. "SniffsniffSNIFF! But perhaps you have a few
moments to spend with me first?"
Qui-Gon
hugged tightly. "I can tuck you into bed and sit with you a little while," he
said nodding. "And I will give you a full report of the festival when I get
back, if you're not asleep by then."
"If I am,
you can wake me up," Obi-Wan whispered. "I'm sure you can figure out a way to
do that."
"Mmm." Qui-Gon patted his padawan's back. "We'll see." Then Obi-Wan broke away and
headed for the bedroom, with his master following right behind.