Work Text:
He was known as “The Negotiator” now: patient, incorruptible, and fierce in a fight. Qui-Gon was proud of the Jedi that Obi-Wan had become. It was a far cry from the insecure young man he’d been what seemed eons ago.
However, it seemed Obi-Wan hadn’t had time for his old master lately. He had a padawan, Anakin Skywalker. The boy Qui-Gon was meant to take after knighting Obi-Wan, after the Naboo crisis, but couldn’t because of his injuries. Qui-Gon felt left behind.
It didn’t help that Qui-Gon, with his competence kink that his peers used to tease him about in his younger days, was rearing its head when it came to the man Obi-Wan Kenobi became.
He was everything that Qui-Gon looked for: competent, confident, and beautiful inside and out. He knew how hard Obi-Wan tried to keep the galaxy from collapsing into chaos and feared that the younger man took too much on himself.
So when Obi-Wan returned from a mission, Anakin bruised and battered, but Obi-Wan submerged in a bacta tank as soon as they landed, Qui-Gon worried.
And wondered about his feelings. Where were they leading him? How would Obi-Wan react if Qui-Gon acted on these feelings? Qui-Gon would never leave the Coruscant temple, permanently on the disabled list, teaching meditations and classes on the Living Force to the younglings. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, seemed to be needed everywhere, like almost every other field-ready Jedi.
“Master Qui-Gon.” Qui-Gon looked up from where he’d paused at the room full of bacta tanks, not all of them occupied. Anakin was standing next to Obi-Wan’s tank, looking exhausted.
“Oh, Anakin,” Qui-Gon said, opening his arms to the distraught teenager. Anakin came willingly to the offered hug. “He’ll be already. He’s too stubborn to be anything else. Trust me on this.”
“Negotiations broke down almost immediately. It was all we could do to get the government’s leaders off planet before the Banking Clan representatives sent in their droids.”
Qui-Gon considered the flicker of rage deep within before releasing it into the Force. The situation was done now and out of his control. Anger would serve no purpose now.
“How was he injured?”
Anakin sighed and leaned slightly into Qui-Gon’s arms for more comfort. “He had me get the leaders to the ship while he defended us. His mastery of Soresu is truly staggering, Master, despite your good-natured arguments about it. Thank the Force he knew it. It was a near thing for all of us. I didn’t even know he’d been hit until he fell over after we were in hyperspace.”
“Are you hurt?” asked Qui-Gon, not wanting to think further on the litany of injuries Obi-Wan sported according to the healer in charge of his healing.
Anakin shook his head.
“Then, go. Clean yourself up, get something to eat, sleep. I’ll stay here.”
“You’ll comm me when he comes out of bacta?”
“Of course, Anakin. Now go.”
“Yes, Master.” It was a sign of how truly exhausted Anakin was that he didn’t argue the orders.
Despite a tendency to argue every order given to him, Anakin was fiercely devoted to those he’d adopted as his family. It was a different way of looking at relationships, learned as a slave on Tatooine, than what was the norm at the Jedi Temple, but both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan learned to adapt, for Anakin’s sake.
So Qui-Gon settled down with a book on the Living Force philosophies before the Ruusan Reformation to wait for his former apprentice and current object of affection to come out of bacta.
It was three hours later when Healer Bant came in, startling when she saw Qui-Gon still sitting there.
“That chair can’t be comfortable for you, Master Qui-Gon,” Bant chided. Being a friend of Obi-Wan’s since their days in the creche, Qui-Gon watched the Mon Calamarian grow up, first with his friend Tahl’s tutelage and later with Kit Fisto’s after Tahl’s death.
“I’m more concerned about Obi-Wan than the condition of my back.”
Bant checked the readings on the tank and nodded in satisfaction. “We should be able to pull him out and get him into a bed. All the blaster shots have healed nicely. He just needs to rest.”
“He’ll grouse the whole time,” Qui-Gon said with a smile.
“He’ll rest or I’ll tie him to the bed with unbreakable straps.” Bant looked mulish for a moment as she contemplated how difficult a patient Obi-Wan would be.
“Is there any reason Anakin should be here?” asked Qui-Gon before she left to get help pulling Obi-Wan from the tank.
She shook her head slightly. “No, he’ll just be in the way, like you will be. Just tell him we’re only allowing one visitor at a time right now and that he should sleep.”
Qui-Gon stepped out of the bacta tank room and called Anakin to relay the information. Anakin sounded groggy and half-asleep enough that he didn’t argue when Qui-Gon told him that he could visit his master after he’d had a decent amount of sleep.
The healers bustled in and out of the room, and one directed Qui-Gon to the room where Obi-Wan would continue to heal and rest. Pulling a slightly more comfortable chair into a corner, Qui-Gon waited for a groggy and bacta-wet Obi-Wan to be brought to the room.
Soon enough, he could hear Obi-Wan arguing with Bant.
“I don’t need to rest. I’ve got to check on my padawan.”
“Anakin is sleeping it off. I personally checked him out. He had one small scrape on his hand and that’s it. You, however, had several blaster wounds that needed full submersion in a bacta tank, so you’re resting, Obi-Wan Kenobi, whether you want to or not.”
“Can I shower this crap off me first?”
There was a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, I suppose.”
“Thank you, Bant, my bestest friend in the whole galaxy.”
“Oh shut it, Kenobi. Your charm doesn’t work on me.”
Qui-Gon grinned. In the room came an Obi-Wan in a hover chair controlled by Bant.
“Qui-Gon! What are you doing here?” exclaimed Obi-Wan.
“Checking on my shaggy-haired apprentice,” said Qui-Gon, standing up. “Who was foolish enough to miss the blaster bolts heading his way.”
“I’ll have you know this hairstyle is the height of fashion,” sniffed Obi-Wan snobbishly and ignoring the second comment completely.
“For every human Jedi who’s grown out their hair from the Padawan cut and hasn’t decided what to do with their hair after that. I’m surprised you haven’t done anything beyond trim the sides.”
“I keep the back trimmed!” protested Obi-Wan.
Bant snorted but said nothing beyond. “Shower and then you lie down to rest.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Obi-Wan stood up from the hover chair and took the new, and drug, blue patient robe from Bant and headed for the attached refresher.
“Make sure he sleeps, Master,” ordered Bant to Qui-Gon, who nodded.
Ten minutes later, Obi-Wan exited the refresher, hair slicked back from the water, and reluctantly slid between the sheets of the hospital bed provided in the room.
“This is so unnecessary,” he complained.
“Let the healers be the judge of that for now. Argue after a nap.”
God, Obi-Wan looked beautiful in that color of blue, bringing the same color out of his unusual grey-blue-green eyes.
Qui-Gon came over to the bed and stood there a moment, uncertain he was going to actually do this. Then, with a mental “kark it”, he sat on the edge of the bed and took up Obi-Wan’s hand.
“It was a close one, dear one.”
Obi-Wan froze at the endearment before coughing in embarrassment. “Yes, well, the galaxy is getting more and more dangerous every time you turn around.”
“I must say I was quite worried.”
“I’m fine, Qui-Gon, but I’m flattered by your concern.”
“My concern had more to do with my feelings for you than the fact that you are my former apprentice,” confessed Qui-Gon quietly.
Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“Then allow me to demonstrate.” Qui-Gon leaned over and kissed Obi-Wan’s brow. Then he kissed the blushing cheeks, feeling their warmth above the reddish-blonde beard. Finally, he kissed Obi-Wan’s slack-jawed mouth.
Qui-Gon tried to be smooth about it. More than a quick peck, but not such a deep kiss that Obi-Wan would be overwhelmed.
To his surprise, Obi-Wan returned the kiss with a sigh.
Qui-Gon cupped Obi-Wan’s face with his giant hands, dwarfing Obi-Wan’s more delicate features. It wasn’t that Obi-Wan wasn’t manly. He was all man, but Qui-Gon was always conscious of how large he himself was compared to many other humans, especially Obi-Wan in this moment.
Their mouths slanted to deepen the kiss for a moment before Obi-Wan pulled away wide-eyed. “Qui-Gon,” he started and then stopped.
“It seems I’ve made the famed Negotiator speechless.” Qui-Gon couldn’t help but sound smug.
“Yes, well,” spluttered Obi-Wan for a moment. “It was unexpected, that’s all.”
“Was it unwelcome?”
Obi-Wan crossed his arms, wincing slightly. “I’ve only wanted that kiss since I was nineteen years old, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and you give it to me when I can do nothing further at the moment.”
Qui-Gon let out a booming laugh of relief. “You’ll be out of here soon enough. I have private chambers without a padawan. We’ll explore later. You need to rest.”
He reluctantly got up from his spot on the bed, but a hand on his stopped him from moving away.
“For a first kiss between us, I must say it was quite subliminal.”
“For me as well, dear one.”
“Then I shall look forward to scandalizing not only my padawan but also the Temple with more of it.”
Qui-Gon tugged a lock of red-blond hair still dark from wet. “Indeed, we both shall.”
And with that, Qui-Gon left, feeling most accomplished. First kisses were always the best kisses.
~Fin~