In the waning days of their mission on Mandalore, Qui Gon observes something private between his Padewan and the Duchess Satine Kryze during a diplomatic party.

Qui Gon pressed the comlink again to hail his Padewan. It was unlike his young apprentice not to respond immediately.

"Obi Wan? Please respond." This time more sternly. The com-link crackle echoed in the hallway as he rounded another corner of the labyrinth-like palace. He grew more concerned and hastened pace; his usual quiet footsteps now echoing in the vaulted corridors.

Where is he? This was a simple mission; accompany the Duchess to a routine social event at the palace as invited guests rather than body guards hovering in the shadows. They spent the last year constantly on the run, living hand-to-mouth and guarding the pacifist Duchess from assassination attempts while the Mandalorian government re-grouped after a brutal civil war. It had not been easy – especially at first – constantly mediating arguments between his Padewan and the Duchess, managing security and intelligence, and overseeing Obi Wan's training. It was a critical time for the boy – hardly at boy at twenty two (but always his 'boy'). His increased strength, fighting techniques and Force proficiency required greater attention and longer training. He would be ready for Trials in a few years.

They were both grateful for the opportunity to attend the event and enjoy civilization without the overbearing responsibility of guard duty, though Qui Gon knew his Padewan preferred facing 1,000 rebels to mingling and making small talk. Never missing an opportunity for education, it was a chance to expose the boy to diplomatic graces, a silent requirement of Jedi peace facilitators. But then, shortly after dinner in the chaos of guests moving to the formal ballroom among the din of conversation, laughter and chamber music, Obi Wan disappeared from his side. This was out of character and unnerved Qui Gon. He'd been searching for the boy for over fifteen minutes.

"Padewan!" No response. Ridiculous! Now that the government was finally stable and the Duchess could move freely without threats…this? On a social night without Force disturbances and premonitions? He slowed his pace and reached out to Obi Wan through the Force.

PADEWAN. RESPOND.

The comlink chirped immediately.

"Master….I am…here….Sssorry…..Am…okay…fine. Everything is….safe." Obi Wan's response was whispered and choppy, like he was out of breath.

STAY WHERE YOU ARE. I WILL COME TO YOU. Qui Gon projected, confused, but relieved.

"No….Not necessary. Have…everything under control….I'm fine, Master," Obi wan replied assuredly, but still out of breath. Before the comlink chirped off, there was a stifled female giggle.

Qui Gon's eyes narrowed and he abruptly stood in place, projecting harder. WHERE ARE YOU AND WHO JUST GIGGLED?

Obi wan pushed back with immediate force: BUSY. GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

Busy?! At a party? He dislikes adult social occasions. Annoyed, Qui Gon turned on the spot and reversed direction, trying to mentally reconnect with the boy, but Obi Wan blocked his attempt. At least he could still sense his location and followed the signature. In the past few weeks his usually dutiful, attentive Padewan had been performing out of character; taking longer to complete routine tasks, arriving late to training, unable to focus.

Over time Obi Wan and the Duchess grew close. It was natural behavior given their age and unique situation. Qui Gon was not naïve to assume they wanted more than friendship from each other. He sensed their growing, mutual desire and observed their glances, flirting mock arguments and casual but deliberate physical contact. He, a lingering hand on her shoulder. She, briefly placing her hand on his as if it were a mistake. To maintain their group dynamic and keep them focused on the mission, he talked with them to remind of Jedi rules of attachment and responsibilities, that Obi Wan decided to continue his training, and the mission was more important. They understood. It helped re-direct their energy, and the three became a functioning team once more.

Until they started living in the palace. Then, Obi Wan's behavior changed, becoming more secretive, dodging questions about his inattentiveness and randomly closing their Force bond. Qui Gon attributed the behavior to the stress of reconnecting with civilization.

That is, until he followed Obi Wan's Force signature to a balcony overlooking a dimly lit courtyard. There, on the far side almost hidden by two planters containing the odd square trees native to Mandalore, were two figures, male and female, moving rhythmically against the courtyard wall. Though the two were in shadow, Qui Gon could make out the characteristic headdress of Duchess Satine and the soft glow of his Padewan's white tunic. The two were entwined and kissing. Satine's bare legs were wrapped around his waist with her arms around his shoulders. Obi Wan held her in place with one hand around her waist and the other bracing her leg for better positioning as he moved inside her.

Qui Gon stared, shocked at first, then chuckled to himself. That little shit. Busy indeed. This explains his recent behavior. At twenty-two, Qui Gon thought of little else, especially after his first time, and remembered the exasperation of his Master trying to get him to concentrate on training and studies rather than anything female.

A pleasured moan from Satine brought his attention back to the courtyard as Obi Wan quickened his thrusts. He would leave them to it, then.

Turning and walking into the palace, he could hear their pleasured coupling as they started to come together and, bemused, admired his Padewan's stamina.

There are worse things to catch a Padewan doing. At least mine always chooses his equal.

They would talk tomorrow, but he was not worried about Obi Wan's commitment to his goals and training. He hoped the Duchess could accept this for what it was and be able to move on after their assignment ended. Qui Gon rejoined the party and shook hands with the Vice Chancellor, looking forward to teasing his sex-flushed apprentice upon his eventual return.