Title: The Right Place at the Right Time

Author: htebazytook

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: --

Warnings: Anakin

Pairing: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Time Frame: during TPM

Author's Notes: Why, in my own slashy universe, Anakin and Obi-Wan never did get along. Perhaps a tad AU because it kind of makes a scene or two in TPM unnecessary but whatevs. This is terribly long and I had way too much fun writing it XD

Everything was peachy until the kid actually opened his mouth. Before then Obi-Wan had been able to convince himself that the boy didn't quite exist and that certainly his master wouldn't dream of letting another annoying creature tag along. Even physically seeing Anakin hadn't deterred this line of thought.

"What are we gonna do about it?" Anakin asked Qui-Gon, all business.

Obi-Wan smiled. Aw, what a darling little ray of sunshine. So eager and focused. Rather different from Jar Jar, at least . . .

Qui-Gon had introduced him.

"You're a Jedi too?" Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan could've sworn there was laughter in his voice. "Pleased to meet you!"

Obi-Wan had been about to smile but it froze. No, I'm just sporting this ridiculous braid and lugging a lightsaber around for the hell of it. Is it really that important to take him back with us, master? he sent. His immobile smile was developing a deranged quality.

Qui-Gon laughed. Don't fret, Obi-Wan. You look every inch a capable Jedi warrior.

"Gosh! It's gonna be great working with you, mister—what's your name again?" The kid's eyes held a definite gleam just for him.

Artoo snickered. Obi-Wan smiled and smiled.

*

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan breathed.

"I haven't had the chance to do this to you in, oh, far too long." Qui-Gon's hands were roaming all over Obi-Wan and he didn't know how much longer it would be until his knees gave out. Being kissed into a wall by your master without so much as a 'hello' after days of dealing with diplomats and ship repairs, more diplomats and more bloody ship repairs, which he deeply loathed, and Qui-Gon knew it, well, it was, it was . . .

"Yes, well—uhh, yes . . ."

Qui-Gon's mouth lingered around his ear, nipping and licking and Obi-Wan moaned and dug fingers deeper into his back. Qui-Gon retreated to stare into his eyes, still but for his strong sure hands mapping Obi-Wan's torso through his tunic and Obi-Wan let out a rather embarrassing whimper and had to pull Qui-Gon down for another kiss, had to taste him and—

"Master Qui-Gon, sir! Are you in here?"

Obi-Wan groaned.

"Patience, Obi-Wan." But Qui-Gon returned to slice warm fingers into his hair and kiss his mouth lushly before pulling away.

Obi-Wan folded his arms and refused to budge an inch while Qui-Gon opened the door to a distinctly downcast Anakin.

"What's the matter, Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked gently, and the ease with which Qui-Gon shifted from lust to concern boggled Obi-Wan's mind.

"It's just that—that—" his lower lip wobbled. Obi-Wan sighed. "I miss my mom, sir."

Oh, I do have a bad feeling about this, Obi-Wan sent irritably.

Anakin was still talking. "I just wish there was some way I could, I could make things right. Free all the slaves. Show them how to take care of people the right way—I know how they should be doing it, sir. Isn't there anything I can do to help everybody when I get to, uh . . .?"

"Coruscant," Obi-Wan supplied flatly.

If Anakin noticed him in any way he wasn't showing it. "Yeah, Coruscant," he continued, staring steadily and earnestly up at Qui-Gon. "Qui-Gon, sir . . . can't you help me figure out a way to—?"

"Look, do you want to be a Jedi or not, Anakin? Because all you seem to—" A hand landed on Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan glared at Qui-Gon.

"I. I. It's just that I, I miss her," Anakin sniffed.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

"I know, Anakin, I know," Qui-Gon soothed.

*

The night shift on the royal starship was disappointingly ordinary. You'd think with all the hype and the shiny chrome exterior it would be something special. Apparently not.

He and Qui-Gon lingered in a shadowy corridor, Obi-Wan's hands shoved into the sleeves of his cloak, thinking how little sense it made to lower the air temp at 'night'. He tried not to shiver—very unbecoming for the capable Jedi warrior that he was—but it was stubbornly chilly and they'd been standing there in a too tired to think, too tired to sleep sort of silence for quite awhile now.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "The Neimoidians have been sending us a number of theatrical pleas from the governor for the Queen to sign the treaty." But Qui-Gon already knew that. Obi-Wan felt supremely mundane in the face of the pod-racing slave child now onboard.

"Mm." Qui-Gon pushed himself off the wall he'd been resting against, stretched out luxuriously. "And now that we're back she'll see them."

"Master, I like to think the Naboo have a bit more faith in the guardians of peace and justice in the Republic," Obi-Wan laughed.

"Well let me put it this way," Qui-Gon said, movements lazy with fatigue as he positioned Obi-Wan closer. "Either Padmé is the Queen or my efforts to infuriate her have been wasted on an exceptionally politically-minded young handmaiden. With a different accent, mind you." Qui-Gon's eyes glinted. He slipped into adolescent mischievousness much more frequently than Obi-Wan, who preferred to crack cheesy jokes at the galaxy's expense.

The lighting in the corridor rendered Qui-Gon soft and desaturated. A noble, statuesque sight just for him, with at least one very obvious tangle in his hair that Obi-Wan itched to rearrange. Translucent surface strands lifting slightly when another fresh gust of oxygen snuck by, and in some part of Obi-Wan's brain he was still very eager to, er, let off some steam with Qui-Gon, but settled for resting his head on his shoulder. No, he'd be plenty happy with a good night's sleep, with lying entangled on something soft and bed-like. Slightly less clothing would be a plus, though.

"You should go get some rest before landing, master," Obi-Wan found himself saying. "We wouldn't want you facing the council out of sorts from sleep deprivation. Once I get another cup of caf in me I'll be good to go 'til arrival."

Qui-Gon was silent. Multiple sentences could only process at the speed of molasses in this undemanding, glowy light. "We're still a couple of hours away," he said at length, absently dragging his padawan more snugly against him.

"Yes." Obi-Wan didn't really know where he'd been going with that. Didn't actually remember what they were talking about. He did know that Qui-Gon's body was warm everywhere Obi-Wan was leaning against him, that he smelled his familiar smell. Obi-Wan swiveled his head against Qui-Gon's clothing until he could see him properly, gazed for a small eternity until Qui-Gon noticed and gazed back and Obi-Wan felt fingers touching his face, leaving lovely lightweight sparks in their wake. Obi-Wan smiled.

Right now Qui-Gon looked awfully young to him. Not just the doing of the strange light, drenching the corridor in ambiance as it was. The optimistic edge in Qui-Gon's bearing, the simplicity of just two people in just one place. Away from it all, as it were. And Obi-Wan felt very young, too. Sleepy. He didn't want to keep awake or do his job dutifully just now, he just wanted—

"Hey," he murmured.

Qui-Gon's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly—'go on'.

"Can you kiss me now?"

Qui-Gon didn't seem to take time for thinking before he complied, mouth sort of falling onto Obi-Wan's in a sweetly rushing moment. Dry pliant lips—Obi-Wan would fix that with his tongue and then they could move with more fluidity. And anyway Qui-Gon definitely liked Obi-Wan laving his lips all unhurriedly like that and Obi-Wan savored the resulting groan. Qui-Gon's mouth against his was Obi-Wan's drug of choice—his mouth which didn't taste like anything in particular and his scent—soap, leather—which engulfed Obi-Wan's senses and effectively immobilized him. He let out a soft sound and Qui-Gon took it as a cue to place Obi-Wan in front of him, lips kept glued together, fingers dancing with his own before traveling up his arms, gripping, thumbs circling slowly, whole body very warm and very against Obi-Wan's.

Qui-Gon pulled away abruptly and Obi-Wan wasn't about to let that happen, stood on his tip-toes in an effort to recapture his mouth, found himself being rejected and only then did he notice Qui-Gon's gaze was directed at the doorway.

"Anakin! What are you doing up so late?"

Anakin peered around the corner and shuffled forward a few paces, dejectedly studying his shoes. "I can't sleep, sir." The dimmed lights painted him grayish-blue from head to toe until he very closely resembled a hologram. Oh, if only . . .

Does he need a bedtime story? Obi-Wan sent, but Qui-Gon still wasn't looking at him.

"It's all right, Anakin." Qui-Gon was definitely ignoring him, clearly unamused as he crossed the claustrophobic bit of ship to the boy, kneeling next to him. "We'll be landing on Coruscant before you know it, and then we can get you into a proper bed, but for now you must try to get some rest—tomorrow's going to be a big day—"

"It's not that, Master sir," Anakin said, hint of laughter in his voice, the suggestion that he couldn't immediately adapt to space travel apparently absurd to him. "I'm just not tired enough to sleep yet. Is there anything I can do to help out with the ship maintenance? I know you just got that new 'drive installed and all. Qui-Gon sir . . . "

Obi-Wan tuned it out in order to concentrate on seething silently in the background, his annoyance starting to wake him up. Qui-Gon's stupid sing-song grated. I mean, he didn't even talk to younglings this way.

Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon sent when Anakin took a deep breath for his next paragraph of complaint. While I deal with this it would be very helpful of you to go and check—

Okay, now Obi-Wan was tuning Qui-Gon out, and Anakin just could not shut up about that bloody handmaiden, could he?

Seriously? Obi-Wan interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose. This boy, he declared, is going to kill me one of these days. If I don't kill him first that is, he added lowly.

There was a pause in Anakin's speech—they both glanced at him but by that time he had moved on to dearly missing his mother again. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes rather dramatically, about ready to embark on a childish rant of his own.

Qui-Gon favored him with an appraising look, nodded. Right. I really do think now would be an excellent time for you to check the fuel gages, don't you?

Obi-Wan didn't agree at first, but then realized he'd been twisting his braid so tightly between his fingers that his scalp was throbbing. He let it go along with a therapeutic sigh. "Yes, you're probably right."

Qui-Gon patted him on the shoulder and turned back to Anakin.

Obi-Wan yawned his way through the unconscious ship, for once truly grateful to have such a mindless, manmade task with which to occupy himself. Plug A into B, push C, wait until D was finished. He never could remember what things were called or what they did, just approximately where they went and came from. Why Qui-Gon insisted on throwing him headlong into these tiresome behind-the-scenes chores was beyond him—well, actually, the fact that Obi-Wan was still generally mystified by the mechanics of keeping a ship up and running was probably why—

"'Scuse me, but are you tryin' ta blow this up on purpose?" Force, that voice was jarring. Its youthfully piercing quality and that harsh accent put together wasn't at all endearing in Obi-Wan's opinion.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan stated. "What are you doing down here?"

"Well . . . I heard Qui-Gon say he sent you to Engineering, and I'm real good at fixing things, so I thought I'd come and help you out. That is . . . if you don't mind, mister Obi-Wan."

"No, I don't mind." Obi-Wan didn't believe himself for a second. "But I think you ought to leave this to me, all right, Anakin? I'm nearly—"

Anakin laughed, his quick little hands darting out to pluck something metal and delicate-looking. "Yeah, but you don't need hyperspace shunts for a T-14 if you're flyin' a Nubian, do you?"

Obi-Wan blinked at him. "Oh?"

Anakin shot him such a cruelly blank look. "Um, this is a J-type Nubian, right?"

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak—

"Yeah . . . you might wanna know what kinda ship you're working on, mister Obi-Wan. It kinda helps. You wouldn't need a shunt unless you were flyin' some old piece of junk like, I dunno, a 03-K64. Don't Jedis usually fly on good ships?"

"Well, I—"

"Ohhh, I get it—you haven't gone offworld before. Hey, that's okay! This is my first time offworld. Is it your first mission, too?" There was that Obi-Wan-tailored gleam again. "'Cause I think you're doing a real good job, mister Obi-Wan, really! Catch."

Obi-Wan had the presence of mind to influence the blasted mechanical hoojigger into his hands with the Force. He looked down at it for a long moment, shiny piping catching the light.

"Hey, are you okay? Are you sure you get it? 'Cause I can show you what—"

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Anakin."

"O-ka-ay," Anakin shrugged. "If you're sure, I'm gonna go to the control room and see if they need any help with the landing sequence yet."

The boy moseyed back around the hyperdrive.

"Well gee, thanks so much for your instruction, Anakin." Obi-Wan's very eyes felt malicious.

But Anakin was too busy preening to notice. "Yeah it's always good to know what you're workin' with before you go installing million-credit hyperdrives the wrong way. Maybe you should remember that next time. It'd save you a lot of trouble." Anakin was smirking at him and Obi-Wan was not imagining this, dammit.

"See ya!" Anakin waved and dashed through the door.

It was a lucky thing Qui-Gon summoned him before Obi-Wan hurt himself trying to crush the superfluous part with his bare hands.

*

They had finally made it to Coruscant, handed the kid off to doting handmaidens, endured a grumpy council meeting, and successfully returned to their quarters and now Qui-Gon had no reason to continue announcing Anakin's general terrificness to half the Temple. Obi-Wan took a deep breath. Everything was back to normal.

Qui-Gon walked into the foyer while Obi-Wan closed the door, shedding his robe onto white stone—not the most expensive flooring but not exactly affordable for citizens and it always caused Obi-Wan a twinge of guilt. Qui-Gon had switched the blinds on the long windows back and was staring out at the city.

"You'll make some something to eat, won't you?" he asked.

"Mm. Maybe later."

"You don't have to, I was just sa—Obi-Wan."

"Yes."

"What exactly are you doing?"

Obi-Wan paused to collect himself, sounded very solemn through his grin. "I will do what I must, master," he said, finishing removing Qui-Gon's belt. "There. Isn't that more comfortable?"

Qui-Gon eyed him. "We'll have to find Anakin again for the meeting later. Do you remember if the Naboo embassy's comm extension number is—Obi-Wan."

"Hm?"

"You can stop taking off my clothes any time. It's hardly necessary to do so the second we enter a room."

"If you say so, master," Obi-Wan said, backing off and removing his own clothing instead, caught Qui-Gon's eye. "Oh, don't mind me." His outer tunic hit the floor with a muffled thunk. "I'm just hot."

Qui-Gon took his time considering and watched Obi-Wan so intently it gave him goose bumps before opting to assist him. "Imp," he chided, kicking a belt out of the way as he approached.

Obi-Wan grinned again and then Qui-Gon's mouth was on his skin, suddenly wet lick between ear and jaw that made him shiver, hands pushing his remaining layers away, doubling back to touch him too lightly and when Obi-Wan attempted to do more than pant and keep his balance Qui-Gon anticipated it, flung Obi-Wan's hands away with the Force, rendered his limbs mostly immobile. Wet wicked mouth that traveled leisurely lower. Obi-Wan's heart raced—he was pathetically hard already and everything was definitely back to normal and ohh, that was Qui-Gon's mouth sneaking toward his—

Until, that is, a familiar voice chimed, "Qui-Gon? Qui-Gon si—?"

"Oh he's not in here, Anakin!" Obi-Wan called. "Terribly sorry. So you'd best run along and—"

Qui-Gon sighed and started putting Obi-Wan's clothes back in order. Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, grabbed at his hands. "Wait wait wait, what are you doing?" he hissed.

Qui-Gon rose in resignation, went to the door and keyed it open. Anakin looked glum and adorable as ever.

"Oh, there he is!" Obi-Wan said lamely. Nobody was paying him any attention. He collapsed heavily onto the cushion on the floor, let his head fall into his hands and closed his eyes and waited with remarkable patience for Qui-Gon to get rid of the little bastard.

"Now, Anakin, you cannot come to me for everything," Qui-Gon was saying, rummaging through the boy's mind which was broadcasting distress rather showily. "I advise you to try to meditate when you are feeling upset over something like bidding a good friend farewell. In any case, the Queen is a politician, and she will be spending a considerable amount of her time here on Coruscant, as will her handmai— "

"I know Master Qui-Gon sir," Anakin practically interrupted, "but I don't know anybody else and you always seem to know what to say and—"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. You have plenty of friends!"

"Like who?" Anakin wasn't buying it and scowled at Qui-Gon most impressively.

"Well, there's—um. Hm. Oh! There's that other, uh . . . Yes, there is. Yes. And Obi-Wan of course!"

Anakin snorted and favored Obi-Wan with the kind of glance other people usually reserved for granite-slug guts on the bottom of their shoes.

"And, uh . . . oh! And Jar Jar!" Obi-Wan raised his head enough to give Qui-Gon the most scandalized look he could muster. What in the blazes has possessed you, master? he asked warily.

Qui-Gon sighed, switched tactics. "You must learn how to look out for yourself, Anakin," he amended. "And don't forget we have a council meeting at 18:00. Now run along." Qui-Gon somehow managed to usher the boy out the door with limited offense before he turned on Obi-Wan again.

He more or less launched himself at his padawan and was rewarded with a brilliant grin and a low groan when he picked up where he'd left off.

*

"Good?"

"Uhhh—yes, obviously," Obi-Wan managed, arching up against him. He felt shaky and wonderful and, indeed, good, and—

Qui-Gon stopped.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, saw his master's face had reset to serious. Obi-Wan groaned. "What is it?"

"It's getting late." Qui-Gon nodded at the sun. "We should really finish this up," he said, grudgingly practical.

"Sounds good to me. So how about you just come over here and I'll 'finish this up,'" Obi-Wan leered, drawing him back down.

"I'm serious, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured around his mouth.

Obi-Wan pretended to calculate. "Oh, come on, master, we have, like a—like a lot of—ah—time. Yeah, and um. Just, ah, keep doing that?"

A few moans later Qui-Gon withdrew again. "Hang on—did you ever reset your chrono to GST?"

"Um." Obi-Wan was panting. "I think so?" He shook his head to clear it of lust. "We're still on this, huh?"

"What time do you have?"

"Um." Obi-Wan sat up a bit and cast around for his belt. "Well, it's all the way over there, master, so why don't we just—"

Qui-Gon clambered upright, dashed into the next room. Obi-Wan heard him curse under his breath and he returned just as quickly. "We have to go. Now."

Obi-Wan grit his teeth.

*

Anakin was ready and veritably rearing to go when they picked him up. And he almost immediately started talking about himself while Qui-Gon almost immediately started nodding encouragingly while Obi-Wan contemplated how exactly one did go about staging the accidental death of the Chosen One. The hurling of said Chosen One into the nearest volcano wasn't very subtle, but it nevertheless ranked very highly on Obi-Wan's growing list.

He is incredibly humble for one so young, Qui-Gon remarked fondly.

Anakin was lecturing them on his flying prowess. Something about 'death-defying'.

Him?

I'd meant to make him look more presentable—don't you think your old formal robes would've done nicely?—but actually the rags might make him more sympathetic to the council.

Of course they will, Obi-Wan said woodenly.

"Master, sir, just how far away is this council place, anyway?"

"We are nearly there, Ani."

Obi-Wan gaped. Et tu, master?

What? Qui-Gon said defensively. It's his name.

Oh, it most certainly is not.

It suits him.

Does it?

Obi-Wan hung back while Qui-Gon ushered Anakin into the council chamber. He caught a glimpse of a very indifferent-looking Master Windu, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Obi-Wan tried not to tap his foot. The look Qui-Gon gave him when he turned around fell victim to an awkward, unhappy silence and he looked quickly back down. They began to walk.

Not until they were nearing the base of the spire did Obi-Wan think to ask, "Where are we—?"

"It doesn't matter."

Qui-Gon took a strange detour and steered them toward a random balcony which Obi-Wan didn't think he'd ever seen occupied, probably due to the lack of seating. Had a gorgeous view though. Most of the temple did, the way it towered above the city. The very bustling city—it must have been rush hour, Obi-Wan realized distantly, admittedly a little ship-lagged. And Centax-3 was crescent again. Force, how long had they been away?

Coruscant's pollution had a funny way of rendering its sunsets spectacular. Candy-colored clouds, the moment of fire before the mammoth sun disappeared below the smog-line. The oncoming glow of neon from the undercity.

Qui-Gon looked like he was on fire. Overlay of burnt orange light whenever they passed a window that made him look like the debonair male lead in an old holodrama. Obi-Wan might have pointed this out and suggested he needed a hat to complete the picture were it not for the fact that they'd fallen to arguing again and Qui-Gon was being stupidly stubborn and pissing him off quite a bit, sunset or no.

"The boy will not pass the council's tests, master. He's too old!" Obi-Wan said dismissively, painfully aware of how hypocritical he sounded.

"Anakin will become a Jedi," Qui-Gon decreed, and Obi-Wan caught that flare of anger before he could take it back and savored it—meant he was getting to him—and continued to push Qui-Gon's buttons, although he did feel a bit guilty, using his nemesis' tricks to his own advantage.

"You still have much to learn, my young apprentice," Qui-Gon sighed, hand settling on Obi-Wan's shoulder, not at all a welcome weight. Smacked of condescension—Obi-Wan wasn't the 10-year-old in this conversation, dammit . . .

"'Do what you must' then, but I have no doubts the council will be thoroughly unimpressed by the boy wonder," Obi-Wan returned, fearlessness painted on his face. It was pitifully optimistic of Qui-Gon to think the subject was closed.

"Such disrespect. Didn't your master teach you better than this?"

"You can't make me agree with you," Obi-Wan nearly shouted. He tasted rash words ready for action in the back of his throat and tried to calm himself.

"Have you read anything on the subject recently, Obi-Wan?"

"Have you? I am perfectly aware of the prophecy of the Chosen One. Whoever it may be is supposed to bring balance to the Force, right? Right. Now let me ask you this, Qui-Gon—what makes you think the Chosen One isn't a Sith? For all we know that thing that attacked you was the Chosen One! It may not have to be a Jedi at all! What about a politician? It could be that the Chancellor himself is in fact the Chosen One! Or Jar Jar bloody Binks! Or—"

"Or an undiscovered Force-sensitive on a remote planet with the highest midi-chlorian count on record. Yes, that might do the trick." Qui-Gon sounded so disgusted with him. It hurt somewhere underneath the part where Obi-Wan was seeing red.

Qui-Gon had yet to provide any solid evidence besides the midi-chlorian thing. Call it a hunch, and Obi-Wan did—bloody Qui-Gon and his hunches. He rarely explained his actions, making it particularly challenging to figure out what actually motivated him. Obi-Wan seriously doubted he would ever understand his master well enough to get a proper force bond going, and it was bloody annoying to be so bloody fucking blind to what really went on behind Qui-Gon's unflappable exterior. Then again it could be that Obi-Wan was better off not knowing, considering how unreasonable he was being over this whole 'Chosen One' thing . . .

Obi-Wan sighed and it didn't help at all and Obi-Wan's voice was tight when he spoke. "I'm sorry, master, I'm just—"

"Frustrated?" Qui-Gon's tone had softened. It made Obi-Wan ache. He hated conflict.

Obi-Wan turned to him. "On so many levels, master."

"Hm." Qui-Gon kissed him, slowly, there on the balcony in the sunset where any passing padawan could have seen. It was devastatingly romantic.

But just as Obi-Wan started to melt Qui-Gon pulled away.

"If the council does agree with me—"

"Yes; if."

"And if they let Anakin be apprenticed, I frankly don't think either of us is up to the challenge of training him, whoever he is."

Obi-Wan fought the surge of hope bubbling up in his chest. ". . . Oh?"

"I—well. I just want you to know that I don't intend to abandon you when Anakin—"

"If."

"If Anakin is admitted to the temple. All right? One of you is about all I can handle right now." Little quirk of Qui-Gon's lips, little peace offering.

Obi-Wan felt immensely pathetic to feel so immensely relieved. "I am a handful, aren't I?" He was so giddy he all but winked to top that gem off.

Qui-Gon sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Well if you're open to suggestions, master . . ."

"Oh, I have some ideas of my own, padawan," Qui-Gon said nonchalantly, moving to trap Obi-Wan by the railing.

"Have you?" Obi-Wan murmured, more focused on his master's swiftly increasing proximity than speaking for the moment . . .

"Qui-Gon, sir! Qui-Gon!"

They separated just as Anakin scampered around the corner, dove for Qui-Gon and dragged him back the way they'd come, talking loudly about the tests he'd completed with what he deemed flying colors.

"I don't think I have anything to worry about, Master Qui-Gon sir," he rambled. "Those guys've never seen anybody like me, before."

No indeed, Obi-Wan sent.

Well, he's certainly precocious, Qui-Gon said, still sounding suspiciously tolerant of the boy.

Anakin's grip on Qui-Gon was so intense the pair were roughly one giant stone column ahead of Obi-Wan by now.

"Isn't he though," Obi-Wan said to himself.

*

Obi-Wan had never been a stronger supporter of the Code. The Code, which forbade Qui-Gon from carrying on in his usual inconsiderate way. You know, it was there for a reason, and if everyone would only follow it, he wouldn't be in this fine mess, teetering on the edge of the rocky system fucking him over again. Probably wouldn't be so lucky this time around.

The tension on the transport to the Queen's hanger was palpable, although much of that was due to Obi-Wan's deathly vow of silence since the council meeting. Even he felt mildly sorry for Anakin sitting between him and his/their master. Whatever they were calling Qui-Gon now.

Obi-Wan had had faith that the Council's predictable rejection of Anakin would finally resolve the matter. Yes, it had been truly stupid of him to think Qui-Gon wouldn't do whatever he damn well pleased, regardless of any promises made to him, Obi-Wan—no, the kid was the one for actually keeping promises to, Obi-Wan was learning . . . He reassured himself that he really couldn't be held responsible for his ensuing outburst.

"The Council will decide Anakin's future—that should be enough for you," Qui-Gon said shortly. "Now get on board." He hadn't ordered Obi-Wan around like this in years and Obi-Wan really couldn't dignify it with a response. Didn't trust himself to speak anyway. He stared brutally at the pavement as he headed for the ship but it wouldn't flinch.

"Qui-Gon, sir . . ." Anakin began in that meandering innocent way of his, and Obi-Wan hoped they found that Sith as quickly as possible before he was forced to murder nauseatingly cookie-cutter handmaidens in frustration.

*

Obi-Wan wanted to go home.

It wasn't that he disliked spending time away from Coruscant. It was just that he harbored a deep-seated hatred for space travel.

And that right now he just wanted to go home and back to where things made sense.

The cabin door swished open and Qui-Gon entered. "Well, I hope she knows what she's doing," he said. Was he seriously trying to ignore all this tension away?

Obi-Wan didn't say anything,

Qui-Gon sighed, staring at a pristine wall. "How long are you going to mope over this, Obi-Wan? I'd like to know because we're about to enter into a terribly precarious situation and I must be able to rely on you to refrain from moping throughout."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "According to you, I'm ready for the trials and would never act less than professionally."

"Yes, absolutely. I have every confidence that you have fulfilled your training in accordance with the Order standa—"

"Qui-Gon that is a load of bollocks and you know it!" Obi-Wan stood up, got closer to him.

Qui-Gon looked down. "Although I must say your recent behavior has my faith in your maturity waning . . ."

"Well I didn't think my opinions were of much value to you anyway," Obi-Wan said, didn't care how petulant he sounded. "Why don't you ask the untrained 10-year-old if you want a good, bigheaded answer? Hm?" Obi-Wan couldn't deal with the look on Qui-Gon's face. "I have—I have to repair something, probably, so . . ." He made for the door.

"You're not going anywhere." Qui-Gon grabbed him by the arm, pulled him close and kissed him. Hard. And Obi-Wan took the opportunity to remind himself of his anger, acquiesced and maybe even responded a little in the meantime.

"I'm not going anywhere," Obi-Wan echoed, feeling thoroughly mind-tricked.

"No." Qui-Gon fingertips on his face, his eyes dark and a little scared. "I have much more faith in you than I have in some ancient prophecy. I am simply trying to protect the boy, especially now that the Council will not. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said grudgingly, leaning into Qui-Gon's touch.

"Now, I know he can be a little rash at times . . ."

"An understatement, master. Are you going to apologize properly or not?"

Qui-Gon nudged another kiss, looked at him seriously. "I am sorry, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan couldn't suppress a grin. "Oh, I think you can do better than that."

Qui-Gon's eyes shone, mischievous again. He leaned in to let his words ghost over Obi-Wan's lips: "Perhaps we should do this quickly, because I have a hunch that if we don't, we may in fact be interrupted."

"Do you know, I think you may be righ—mmm."

*

It wasn't long before the ship was nearing Naboo's orbit. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked down the corridor to the control room, Obi-Wan considerably relieved, although that may have had something to do with Anakin's absence and/or post-cotial bliss.

"I don't think the Queen would be so eager to pay the Gungans a visit if she'd met Boss Nass before," he said.

Qui-Gon smiled. "I wonder if she'll use her double to talk to him. Indeed I wonder when she'll 'reveal' her true identity."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Master, I'm telling you, you are seeing things. They're Naboo—they all have that annoying drawl and wear the headdresses. And anyway Amidala isn't quite important enough to have a double."

"Ah, but they believe she is." Qui-Gon paused outside Amidala's chambers. "Actually, I think the Queen might benefit from some additional council, now that—"

"Now that Captain Panaka is busy with the landing party?"

Qui-Gon's mouth quirked. "Something like that. And perhaps you could find Anakin in the meantime. It wouldn't hurt to remind him that he isn't to be involved in any of this, no matter how skilled he believes he is."

"Excuse me, master—I must be mistaken—but it sounded like you were implying that Anakin isn't practically perfect in every way."

"And you are?"

Obi-Wan smiled. He was starting to worry about how smiley he was being. "I'll go get him"

*

Obi-Wan found Anakin on the floor a little farther down the corridor, tinkering with something complicated-looking.

"Hey, Obi," Anakin greeted absently, didn't look up.

"I beg your pardon? Were you attempting to communicate with my sash, Anakin?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Obi-Wan yanked him to his feet. "Now come along, we're landing soon."

"Hey, I'm old enough to take care of myself, mister," Anakin said, shaking him off. "I don't need you to babysit me."

"Right. And exactly how old are you, again, Anakin? Ten, isn't it?" He knelt down to the boy's eye level the way Qui-Gon always did. "Do you know what I had already accomplished by the time I was your age?"

"Um, no."

"Oh let me see. I'd studied the Soresu Form. I'd mastered first level meditation. Little things like that. Do you know, I was considered a rather precocious little mechanic myself."

Anakin thought about this. "Yeah . . . I don't know what the fuck any of that means, so . . ."

Obi-Wan knew he should've been scandalized by that response, yet curiously he wasn't. "You talk to your mother with that mouth?"

Anakin gave him a very duh look. "I grew up on an Outer Rim planet run by an obese, slug-like alien mob, in case you haven't noticed. I can look out for myself."

"Oh really? Well—"

"At least I don't need my master to tell me what to do all the time."

Obi-Wan thought about denying it indignantly, but realized that if it was the truth then he was finally beginning to see a plus side to Qui-Gon taking Anakin as his padawan. "Has anybody ever told you there is much fear in you?"

Anakin's wide innocent eyes widened impossibly more.

Haha, I knew it! And then Obi-Wan surprised himself: "Don't worry, Yoda says that to everyone."

Anakin laughed a little, finally looking his age and, with great reluctance, let down his guard and asked in a small voice, "He does?"

"Yeah." Obi-Wan stood up. "Becoming a Jedi is hard for everyone." At what point had he started to feel camaraderie with Anakin, the desert speed racer himself?

"Oh, I can do it," Anakin stated, self assured again. He met Obi-Wan's gaze. "I'm gonna be the best Jedi ever! Just you wait and see." There was that gleam in his eye and Obi-Wan was beginning to recognize it as a challenge. Hadn't he sported that same gleam for his own master? Didn't he still resort to it from time to time?

"Hm, I suppose I have no choice in the matter."