Chapter Text
"Padawan..." Dooku sighed, not for the first time this evening. "You won't solve anything by drinking up all of my Alderaan whisky."
"Right now I don't want to 'solve' a sith-damned thing. I just want to forget everything for five bloody minutes!" Qui-Gon growled, dropping on the couch in his former master's quarters and sending down the shot of drink in one go.
"Well, you've definitely forgotten that your people practically can't get drunk due to your very high alcohol tolerance. You'll be just sick, with a perfectly clear mind so you'll just suffer even more." Dooku sighed again, sitting down next to his ex-Padawan. "Please tell me what's wrong. You know I just want to help."
Dooku only knew that Qui-Gon yet again had a clash with the Council when he got home today morning and apparently refused to go on another mission. Dooku met him late afternoon in the garden and immediately saw that his former Padawan was a mess. So he invited Qui-Gon for a drink, but the younger Jedi was well on the way to thoroughly abuse this offer.
For long minutes, there was a comfortable silence between them, but then Qui-Gon took a deep breath and tried to put his misery into words.
"In the last few years I've done nothing else than going from mission to mission, mostly to places where at least half of the population wanted me dead just for being there. I don't even remember when was the last time I've been here for longer than three days in a row. I know that as a Jedi, it's supposed to be my fucking job, but... It's so damn tiring to deal with stupid or outright hostile people all the time, without a break for years. I just... can't take it any longer..." he confessed, blinking rapidly as he suddenly felt like breaking down in any minute.
Perhaps he couldn't get drunk, but the alcohol still made many things easier for him, crying included; not that he needed much help with it. Dooku said many times that he was a bit too emotional for a male and especially for a Jedi, but Qui-Gon couldn't help it, and his former master learned to accept him just like he was.
"It's okay... There's nothing wrong with feeling exhausted sometimes" Dooku comforted him, pulling him into a warm hug as he'd lost the battle with the tears and began crying into his former master's shoulder. "That's why you refused to go on a mission again?"
Qui-Gon nodded, hiding deeper in the safe embrace; he needed this contact desperately. He needed the safety of his home and his loved ones, and the thought to leave again was simply unbearable. He was ready to fight anyone for his right to stay, even Yoda or Mace Windu, or the whole sith-damned Council, but fortunately, a harsh 'nope' with a few vague excuses were enough for them to leave him alone. It was strange, he was used to more fighting, but he was so tired in every possible way that he didn't really care. The only thing that mattered that he was here, and he didn't have to leave again for a long while.
Dooku waited for him to stop crying, and when he did so, he made him stand up and supported him into the apartment's smaller bedroom. There, Qui-Gon curled up on his old bed, shivering badly and hugging one of the pillows.
"I think I'm gonna be sick..." he sniffled, wiping his teary face with trembling hands.
Dooku let out an exasperated sigh but managed to restrain himself from uttering that 'I told you so'. He just took off his big, warm robe and tucked Qui-Gon in carefully, then found a bucket and placed it next to the bed.
"I'll be in the other room. Use our bond if you need me" he said quietly, stroking Qui-Gon's messy, silky hair gently. "Try to sleep, fluffball."
Qui-Gon half laughed, half sobbed at his childhood nickname; Dooku didn't seem like an endearing type, but sometimes he could come up with interesting names. 'Fluffball' was the very first thing he had said in a half-asleep state to Qui-Gon when his ten-year-old, brand new Padawan woke him up the first morning. The name stuck, and now it felt good to hear it again.
Dooku sent a gentle Force-suggestion through their bond to help him fall asleep, and soon Qui-Gon indeed slipped into an exhausted dream.
⃰
Next morning Qui-Gon woke with a throbbing headache and a nausea so strong he threw up everything he'd eaten in the last two days. He couldn't be thankful enough for the bucket next to his bed.
Not a moment later, Dooku sat down next to him, keeping his long hair off his face and stroking his back comfortingly during the ordeal. Qui-Gon sent a grateful wave through their bond, and Dooku sent back soothing ones, trying to ease his discomfort.
Soon Qui-Gon lay in his bed again, pulling his master's robe tight around himself and blinking sleepily at Dooku, who got back to him after he dealt with the mess.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked, giving Qui-Gon an Aspirin and a big cup of water.
"A bit..."
A few minutes of silence, then Dooku spoke up, somewhat insecure. Now, that was strange.
"Qui-Gon, have you ever thought about... taking a Padawan?"
The younger Jedi just stared, utter disbelief written on his face.
"You're not serious, are you?"