All the colors of the Rainbow
Summary: Rebellion comes in many forms.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Qui-Gon Jinn or Obi-Wan Kenobi or the Star Wars concept; Lucasfilm does. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
"I hate brown, Master." When Qui-Gon sent him that look, fifteen-year old Obi-Wan Kenobi subsided and bit his lower lip. Thinking for a moment, he frowned petulantly, glowering back, "Well, hate may be too strong a word. Perhaps a better way to say it is that I am uninspired by the color?"
His Master just shook his head at his young Padawan. Oddly, it was usually Obi-Wan that argued for the Council's wisdom. The teen was always complaining about how Qui-Gon was too rogue and never followed the rules of the Jedi and, if he didn't change his ways, he'd never be on the Council. As if Qui-Gon wanted to be a member of such a stuffy group.
But this had to stop. The tall man sighed. The deep rich hue of dirt, the generous loamy soil of a hundred worlds was the proper coloration for Jedi tunics and Obi-Wan should know this.
"Padawan, the colors have been chosen by the wisest of our Order. Brown and green are the uniforms that proclaim to the galaxy that we are the guardians of peace and justice. Would you have us go around in red like the fabled Sith Lords?"
The teenager shrugged, half-defeated. "But, Master, why do we have to wear it every single day?" Jinn sent him another look. "I mean, in the Temple where no one else can see, can't we wear blue or purple or even a Sithy crimson?"
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, but the Council has insisted that you conform. No more dyeing your tunics into brilliant psychedelic circles of color. No more wearing orange and blue stripes in the salle." He stared down at his apprentice, a frown emphasizing his displeasure. "And certainly no more red capes in the food hall. You scared the younglings with that one."
"But Master..." the whining died down as Qui-Gon sent him another unhappy Masterly look. "Yes, Master. Brown tunics, brown leggings, brown robe." He sighed again. "Brown, brown, brown."
"Good. I'm late for my saber class. When I get back, I expect the color to be Jedi respectable. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Master. You won't see anything but brown." Qui-Gon frowned at that. Obi-Wan should have given him more of an argument but he didn't have time for further discussion. With one final suspicious glare at his apprentice, Qui-Gon strode out the door.
Waiting for a moment to make sure that his Master had indeed gone, Obi-Wan relaxed. A rather sly, feline-with-feathers-in-its-mouth kind of smile grew on his face and he began to laugh. "You won't see anything but brown, Master." With that, he pulled out his latest find, and held it up in delight. As he admired the fabric with its glowing images of fluorescent yellow lightsabers mixed with the red and purple polka-dots, he realized that he now had the loudest pair of boxer shorts known to the tasteless masses of Coruscant. And it was all his. And best of all, Qui-Gon would never see anything but brown - just like he said.
Ah, yes, rebellion was sweet.
Of course, if his Master ever found out... well, he would just have to go commando.