39Title: A Bad Case of the Sunshine Blues
Author: Syntyche
Date Completed: 6/28/01
Rating: G
Archive: (shrug) just ask me so I know where it's going. :)
Spoilers: None
Tissue Warnings: None
Obi-Torture with resultant Qui-angst: Mild
Time frame: 2 years before TPM; Obi-Wan is 23.
Legal: Not mine; no money earned from this little venture and not meant to infringe on copyrights held by George Lucas, or anyone else associated with Lucasfilm, etc.
Summary: On temporary leave from the Temple with his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi comes down with a bad case of the sunshine blues.
Hmm … Those headers get longer every time …
Tremendous thanks to Jane Jinn and Peta, betas extraordinaire, for gently and kindly showing up the rough spots; and to all the members of betas_anonymous for their help.
Dedication: Sunshine Blues is dedicated to Ginger Ninja, for most encouraging reviews. Writing is a labor of love, but feedback is the triple fudge icing on a double chocolate cake. Thanks, GN!
A Bad Case of the Sunshine Blues
By: Syntyche
Sometimes, it was good to get away.
Qui-Gon Jinn stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles, and simply enjoyed the feeling of warm sun on his tired muscles. The Council, after keeping the pair in the field for nearly a year and a half, had finally taken pity on the Jedi Master and his Padawan-learner, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and granted them a brief vacation on the sun-drenched world of Selva II.
Their small beach house was located just at the edge of a coastline with sand so white it hurt his eyes to look at it, and water so deeply blue it welcomed him to dive in and savor its refreshing cool. The planet's suns shone brightly on the beach, undiminished by the few wispy clouds in the azure sky.
Qui-Gon was relaxing on the little patio of the shack they'd rented, clad in casual slacks and a light tunic. A science fiction novel he'd been meaning to read was accessed on the datapad resting atop his chest, but Qui-Gon was simply feeling too lazy to bother with reading it. Oh, yes. This was good. No squabbling senators, no trade disputes, not even a border skirmish. They had needed this vacation. He had needed this vacation.
His Padawan-learner, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was out and about, experiencing the sights possibly, or swimming or even lounging on the beach somewhere. The young Jedi had even taken to sailing in their ample spare time; Qui-Gon had accompanied him once, but the rocking motion of the waves had turned him a distinct shade of green, much to Obi-Wan's amusement. Qui-Gon hadn't seen the young man for the past few hours, but he was not worried. Obi-Wan was more than capable of taking care of himself; besides, if nothing else, his Padawan's appetite would bring him back long before dark.
Qui-Gon shook his head with a rueful smile and eased deeply into the lounge chair with a contented sigh. Yes, this was one decree of the Council even he had no plans to defy …
"Master?"
The unusually tremulous call from his Padawan woke Qui-Gon from the light slumber he had drifted into.
"Obi-Wan?"
He noticed that the shadows on the beach had lengthened and he was now completely submerged in shade as the sun had disappeared beyond the roof of the beach house. It was long past dinnertime. "What is it, Obi-Wan?"
When no reply was forthcoming, Qui-Gon was out of his chair in an instant and pushing through the doors that led into their common room, morbidly expecting to find his Padawan a mutilated mess on the floor somewhere. Absentmindedly he reflected that only Obi-Wan could get into trouble on a vacation, but that was a point Obi-Wan would have immediately refuted and countered with the reply that it was something he'd picked up from his Master – and probably rightly so.
"Padawan, where are you?"
The front door slammed shut on its old-model swinging hinges. "Here." Obi-Wan's normally dulcet tones had dropped a few notches, and Qui-Gon could barely catch the soft response. Following his Padawan's Force signature rather than his voice, Qui-Gon met Obi-Wan halfway as the young Jedi stumbled in from the short hallway leading to the front door.
"What is it, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon repeated. Worried, he put a hand under Obi-Wan's bicep to support him, but Obi-Wan hissed in pain and yanked his arm out of his Master's grip.
"Don't touch me," he gasped. "Please."
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed and he started for his Padawan again, but a glare from Obi-Wan caused him to back off. "Obi-Wan," he said sternly, "I cannot help you if I don't know what's wrong." He reached over to scale up the lights in the beach house so he could see his apprentice more clearly.
"Oh," Qui-Gon said calmly.
Covered in tiny sand granules from head to toe, Obi-Wan seemed to glitter faintly in the warm lamplight. He appeared uninjured in front – though the fraying braid drooping listlessly behind his right ear could use a little attention, Qui-Gon noted – but under Qui-Gon's direction he turned so he faced away from the light.
Obi-Wan's entire bare back was a mass of sunburned flesh, halting at the waistband of his swim shorts and picking up again where his shorts ended mid-thigh and reaching all the way down his calves. Qui-Gon couldn't tell if his Padawan's ankles were sunburned as well, due to the sand that encrusted Obi-Wan's feet from his walk up the beach. It was painful-looking to be sure, but Qui-Gon had had some rather nasty personal experience with sunburn and was relieved to see that it could have been much worse.
Obi-Wan's lips twitched, but if he was annoyed with the scrutiny, he was too polite to mention it. He waited patiently for Qui-Gon to finish his examination before resuming his slow course through the house, leaving a trail of sandy footprints in his wake.
Obi-Wan's unsteady progress towards the fresher was observed by Qui-Gon, who remained standing in the middle of the common room, arms crossed over his chest. "Would you like some help?"
"No, I'm fine," Obi-Wan ground out through gritted teeth, one hand braced against the wall to keep himself upright. He was keeping his body rigid with a stiffness that was painful to watch.
"Obi-Wan, you're tracking sand through the house," Qui-Gon stated patiently, "and you're also going the wrong way. You should lie down."
"I'm going to wash this sand off first," Obi-Wan said firmly, but Qui-Gon was prepared to outdo his apprentice in the stubbornness department. He gave Obi-Wan The Glare and used The Voice.
"No, you most certainly are not." He added The Tilted Chin and The Raised Eyebrow for good measure. "Obi-Wan, you're about to fall flat on your face. You can hardly walk. You will lie down, while I find some salve for your back."
There. If that didn't cow his apprentice, Qui-Gon knew he was in trouble and would have to receive some pointers from Mace Windu upon their return to the temple.
But Obi-Wan obviously knew better than to argue against that arsenal – either that, or he was simply too exhausted to fight back.
"Yes, Master," he murmured. Cautiously changing directions, he started for his room, waving off the hand his Master offered, but Qui-Gon would not be deterred this time. He slid one arm around the waistband of Obi-Wan's shorts where it wouldn't brush against any of the reddened skin, and Obi-Wan relented in his protest and gingerly brought a hand up to grip the sleeve of his Master's tunic.
In this manner Qui-Gon gently guided his apprentice to his room and down onto the bed. Obi-Wan sighed in relief as his body came in contact with the cool sheets, lowering his face to the pillow and carefully letting his muscles relax. Qui-Gon disappeared and returned a few minutes later with damp towels draped over one arm and a tumbler of water.
"Drink," he ordered, passing Obi-Wan the tumbler and Obi-Wan rose enough to obey, draining the glass and dropping back down with another tiny sigh and his murmured thanks. His eyes tracked Qui-Gon curiously as the Jedi Master shook out the towels and he winced as they were laid out over burnt skin.
"Ow," he offered lamely, gritting his teeth and trying not to twist around.
Qui-Gon arranged the last towel carefully over Obi-Wan's neck as his Padawan buried his face in the pillow. "Obi-Wan, I'm going to get some salve. I want you to stay in this room." Remembering Obi-Wan's earlier comment, he added, "And stay out of the shower."
Obi-Wan's reply was an incoherent mumble, and Qui-Gon sighed, but really, he couldn't recall his apprentice ever getting sunburned before. Checking the fresher's medicine cabinet quickly, Qui-Gon confirmed there was no salve in the beach house. He left his robe hanging by the door – he was on vacation, after all – and strode out into the twilight.
Qui-Gon had been gone for some time. Obi-Wan lifted his head carefully, grimacing at the pain it caused his burnt neck. He hurt. He was thirsty. The towels on his body were dried out and stiff. And he had sand in the most uncomfortable places.
One hand came up to slowly drag through his hair, sending clouds of sands from the soft spikes onto his pillow. All right, he decided, up, Obi-Wan, up. He gave rising a hefty effort … and promptly collapsed back onto the bed, fire streaking across his wounded skin. Ouch, ouch, OUCH! Sith! But now the sand that had settled on his pillow was in his eyes. Obi-Wan rubbed at them furiously, groaning, but it didn't help. He snatched at one of the towels Qui-Gon had placed over his back and pressed it to his eyes until the burning faded. All right, Kenobi, he roused himself with another little pep talk, you can do this. Up! Ready? Okay. Shift. Slide the right leg off the bed carefully... Ouch. Now the left. Whimper. Push off with the hands … okay, almost there …
Surprisingly, he made it up and to the fresher without incident and paused before the mirror over the sink. Gritty blue-grey eyes, bloodshot from the grainy sand, stared back at him. His hair was sticking out at odd angles. His braid looked like a vrelt had chewed on it. And he was still covered in sand.
But those things could be remedied easily enough. Obi-Wan quickly undid the bands keeping his braid tight and finger-combed through the long strands quickly. Then he reached for the shower controls, immediately tapping the water up to hot. He'd never been able to stand taking a cold shower, even on Qui-Gon's infamous Wilderness Retreats. Obi-Wan would rather suffer through his Master's pitying headshakes and sighs of how he'd lost his Padawan to the "soft life" than give up his hot water showers – with soap – even if it meant heating the water over a fire himself.
Obi-Wan gingerly stripped out of his shorts, shooting a dirty look at the sand that spilled out onto the floor. Gently he eased himself into the shower so he was facing the stream of hot water. He reasoned that he could stomach cold water long enough to rinse his back quickly, but first he allowed himself the luxury of hot water streaming onto his chest and stomach. Obi-Wan closed his tired eyes as his muscles relaxed under the soothing spray. He reached for the soap, but the movement pulled at his abused skin and the soap slipped from his grasp and thunked to the shower floor. Without thinking, Obi-Wan knelt to retrieve it …
Qui-Gon Jinn strove to keep his calm as he wearily climbed the low steps to the beach house he and Obi-Wan shared. It had been a simple enough matter to find salve for Obi-Wan's back – evidently sunburn was a very common occurrence on Selva II, most probably by tourists who didn't think to bring any sunblock, like he and Obi-Wan; the difficulty had been finding a shop that was still open. Through either the Force or sheer luck, Qui-Gon had managed, on his fourth try, to find a small convenience store that was open 32 hours a day. The little tourist trap probably had to stay open all night, Qui-Gon reflected darkly, to cover their outrageous prices on items such as sunblock and salve.
He was just mounting the top step when a scream of pure agony tore through the bond he shared with Obi-Wan and simultaneously shattered the still night air. Qui-Gon dropped the small bag he was carrying and lunged for the door handle.
It was locked.
The Master/Padawan bond was quiet now. Without thinking to take the time to search for his key card, Qui-Gon threw up a hand and pushed the door off its hinges. It hit the wall, hard, probably leaving a mark, but the Jedi Master didn't bother to look.
"Obi-Wan?!"
Obi-Wan's bedroom was empty. Qui-Gon was just turning from the room when the fresher door opened and Obi-Wan stumbled out, clutching a towel around his waist, his face a mask of agony. Qui-Gon's heart twisted in sympathy. "Oh, Obi-Wan," he sighed.
Obi-Wan's red-rimmed eyes latched on to him and he offered Qui-Gon a wobbly version of an apologetic grimace. "Sorry … Master," he mumbled hoarsely. "Soap … fell."
Qui-Gon shook his head, immediately coming to his Padawan's aid. "I thought I told you to stay out of the shower," he said severely, guiding Obi-Wan once more toward his room. Taking a quick look at the sand crystals sparkling on the sheet, Qui-Gon simply pulled the coverlet over top the sandy blanket and shook the pillow out quickly. Obi-Wan grunted as he settled himself once more facedown on the bed.
"I'll be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere," Qui-Gon warned, though it was probably unnecessary. Moving quickly, he went back out to the porch to retrieve the small bag of supplies he had dropped. He checked the door on the way back in and was mildly surprised to see that, in his worry for Obi-Wan, he had pushed it against the direction of the hinges, tearing the door off its frame. The damage was irreparable.
He would comm someone tomorrow to install a new door. For now, he settled the door as best he could against the jamb and placed a light Force seal around it. He doubted anyone would try to break into the small beach house, but preemptive measures were always a good idea. Better safe than sorry, his apprentice would say with a grin.
Making a quick detour to the fresher to check that the shower water wasn't still running – though shutting the shower off had probably been the first thing Obi-Wan had done when the hot water had come into contact with his burning skin – Qui-Gon nodded in satisfaction and returned to his Padawan.
Obi-Wan's head was turned onto the pillow, revealing his profile and one half-closed eye. He lay exactly how Qui-Gon had left him, with his reddened back facing upwards against the cool night air. The large towel was slung low around his hips, and Qui-Gon cringed at the distinct boundary between the vivid red of the burn and the pale white of Obi-Wan's unscathed skin. Qui-Gon knew from his quick breathing that his apprentice was awake and in pain.
"All right, Obi-Wan," he soothed, moving to the head of the bed. He touched his large, cool fingertips to his Padawan's warm forehead, sending waves of calm to dampen the pain and felt Obi-Wan start to drift into sleep as the burning faded.
"Sorry," Obi-Wan apologized suddenly from the depths of his half-slumber.
Surprised, Qui-Gon drew back. "For what, Obi-Wan?"
"Shower," his Padawan elaborated. "Disobeyed."
Qui-Gon allowed a small smile. "I think you've learned your lesson, young Padawan."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan nodded wearily.
Qui-Gon gently pushed Obi-Wan's leg to the side to make room on the edge of the bed, seating himself carefully beside his Padawan. "This may sting a little, Padawan," he warned, uncapping the salve. At the first touch of the cool salve on his skin, Obi-Wan's breath caught and he reflexively jerked away from his Master's hand. Almost immediately he forced himself to relax.
"Sorry," he apologized again, fighting the sting of tears in his eyes. "Wasn't ready."
"It's all right." Qui-Gon waited until his Padawan's breathing slowed before touching the burned skin again. Heat was radiating off Obi-Wan's back in waves and Qui-Gon did his best to be gentle.
"Never been … sunburned … before," Obi-Wan offered after a tense minute, as if he felt he needed to offer an explanation for his weakness.
"I thought not," Qui-Gon agreed, gently rubbing the salve in circles on Obi-Wan's back. "But surely you must have known better, my Padawan."
Obi-Wan's body shook once with what a surprised Qui-Gon took to be a laugh. "Master," Obi-Wan said patiently, one blue-grey iris flicking open and his voice muffled by the pillow, "I wear a tunic, an under tunic, and a robe out-of-doors." The amusement in his tired voice was unmistakable.
"Ah," Qui-Gon said succinctly. Changing the subject, he asked, "But why didn't you come in – surely you knew you were getting sunburned?"
At this, Obi-Wan's body stilled suddenly, and his face, which Qui-Gon knew had escaped the sun unscathed, suddenly reddened.
"Ah, yes, Master, I was aware of that fact," Obi-Wan said very quietly.
"Then why – "
"Master, I'm somewhat tired," Obi-Wan interrupted hastily, but with a genuine tinge of fatigue in his voice. "If it's acceptable to you, I'd like to rest now."
Hmm. His Padawan was hiding something, but Obi-Wan was obviously exhausted. Qui-Gon decided to let it go for now. "All right, Obi-Wan." He brushed his fingers through the damp, spiky hair reassuringly, sending Obi-Wan the gentle mental suggestion to rest. Obi-Wan breathed a quiet 'thank you' as he settled into a light slumber.
Qui-Gon watched him for a moment, reflecting, like all fathers, on how much their child has grown and how innocent they looked in their sleep, before clicking the light off and leaving his Padawan to rest.
Later that night, after a refreshing meditation, Qui-Gon checked in on his Padawan again. He was immediately disturbed to see that Obi-Wan had huddled in on himself sometime during the evening. His teeth were chattering loudly.
Despite the fact that his eyes were squeezed shut, he still sensed his Master's presence.
"M-Master? It's c-cold. It's very cold," he complained.
"Perhaps that's because you're only wearing a towel, Padawan," Qui-Gon said dryly, but affectionately, trying to keep the worry from his voice. "Wait a moment."
The Jedi Master retrieved his own coverlet and returned with it to his apprentice. Despite the warmth in the room and the heat radiating off of his body, Obi-Wan shivered and shuddered, chattering out his thanks as Qui-Gon draped the thick blanket over him and tucked it around the bed gently, mindful of his Padawan's abused skin.
"You're welcome, my Obi-Wan," he replied quietly. "But if you're not feeling better by tomorrow, we're finding a Healer."
"Nooo," Obi-Wan groaned, shifting in the cocoon of thick blanket Qui-Gon had made for him. His agitated movements caused the blanket to scratch against his wounded skin and his features tightened. Still he continued to beg. "Please, Master, no. I'll be fine, I promise! Please!"
"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon's hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder stilled his restless Padawan. "You're acting like a child. If you're hurting this badly tomorrow, you are seeing a Healer and that's final. Obi-Wan," he prompted when Obi-Wan's eyes dropped to the floor, either in anger or dread – he felt both from his apprentice. His finger hooked under his apprehensive Padawan's chin and tilted his face back towards him. "I will not risk you getting sunstroke, Obi-Wan." I care about you too much to see you hurting, he almost said, but refrained, instead offering his Padawan a small smile. "It would ruin our vacation."
Obi-Wan returned his smile with a tiny one of his own, but his expression was still filled with dread. "Yes, Master."
"All right." Qui-Gon knelt by his Padawan. "I want you to rest now." The Jedi Master worked carefully to gently thread out the long stands of unbraided hair tucked behind Obi-Wan's right ear. Obi-Wan obligingly dropped his bare shoulder further into the blankets and tilted his chin slightly to the side, allowing Qui-Gon access to re-braid the thin symbol of his apprenticeship.
Qui-Gon worked slowly, taking his time despite his own fatigue. When he'd finished, Qui-Gon surveyed his handiwork. It was a bit sloppy, perhaps, unlike Obi-Wan's usual meticulous braiding, but for being out of practice, he thought he'd done pretty well.
After his apprentice had drifted off into a peaceful slumber, Qui-Gon rubbed his tired eyes and decided to go to bed himself. Soon enough the morning rays were shining through the window and Qui-Gon rose to check on his apprentice.
Obi-Wan was no better than he'd been the previous night – in fact, Qui-Gon was certain he was worse. He shivered continually despite the warm summer air lazing in through the open windows, and when pressed, complained of nausea and a headache. Qui-Gon let him rest in a cool bath nearly the entire morning, and with his Padawan thus occupied and out of hearing range, he contacted a local Healer via the comm and was reassured the Healer would arrive shortly. Obi-Wan would throw a fit, but Qui-Gon wasn't taking any chances and hoped he hadn't been wrong in delaying so long already.
When his Padawan finally emerged from the fresher, dressed in his sleep pants with water still sluicing down bare skin he refused to towel off, Qui-Gon gently patted the damp back and shoulders down, despite Obi-Wan's hissed protests, and applied a fresh layer of salve.
Someone came to replace the front door and Qui-Gon watched only long enough to ensure the job was done and to pay the humanoid before heading to the kitchen to put together a light lunch for himself and Obi-Wan as he waited for the Healer.
"Lunch, Obi-Wan," he announced, setting the tray on the dresser in Obi-Wan's room. Obi-Wan's only reply was a groan as he shoved his face deeper into the pillow.
"Come on, Padawan," Qui-Gon encouraged. "No sense in babying you any more than I already am," he muttered wryly. "Up, Padawan."
"Not hungry, Master," Obi-Wan murmured in protest. "Please. Not hungry … go 'way. Sleep," he offered hopefully.
"No, you've rested enough," Qui-Gon disagreed. "You need to eat. Come on, Obi-Wan – if you're not eating, I know it's serious!"
"Ha … ha," Obi-Wan mumbled dryly. "Funny today."
Qui-Gon tried for a light tone. "It's a glorious day, Padawan. Why shouldn't I be in good humor?"
"Not … burned?"
"That's because I use the brains I was gifted with, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, levity being replaced by sternness. "Honestly, I don't know what possessed you – "
A loud banging on the newly installed door drew Qui-Gon away from his lecture for the moment, to Obi-Wan's evident relief. "I'll be back in a minute, Padawan … to finish this little … discussion."
"Master, can't it wait, please?" came his apprentice's tired response.
Qui-Gon hmmed unpromisingly and strode from the room. Expecting the arrival of the Healer, Qui-Gon was surprised when opening the front door revealed a quartet of females standing on the front porch.
"Can I help you?" Qui-Gon asked carefully, one eyebrow raised in puzzlement.
A quick mini-conference took place between the young women before one of them, a tall blonde with dark brown eyes stepped to the front, proffering a cloth-covered basket. "I'm Melina. These are my friends: Erlea," a red-haired, green-eyed beauty with a faintly mischievous air flashed him a quick grin, "Kanareida," an unusually soft-featured Baneelian who waved a sharp-clawed hand shyly, "and Paline," a raven-haired young lady who looked able to charm just about anyone with her dancing sapphire eyes and a full-lipped smile, which she tilted at the Jedi Master by way of greeting.
"Ah," Qui-Gon said intelligently. "Good afternoon." There was a slight pause during which the girls seemed to be craning their necks slightly to see around him, and Qui-Gon shifted self-consciously. "Is there something I can do to help you?" he repeated after an awkward moment.
Melina finally sighed. "No. No, I guess not. Anyway, we just brought these muffins to welcome you. We all live just down the beach a way."
"Oh." Qui-Gon offered a smile. "I thank you ladies for your kind generosity. I am sure Obi-Wan – my apprentice – will appreciate these far more than my attempts at cooking." This last was said rather dryly, but the sunshine that instantly radiated off the front porch from the smiles of the young women was so near blinding Qui-Gon thought he might suddenly get sunburn himself.
"Your … apprentice?" Erlea asked with a grin that could only be described as wolfish. "He isn't the young man that was … um, on the beach yesterday, is he?"
"'Cause we noticed that he's new around here," Paline piped in cheerily, and from somewhere behind her came a "did we ever!" which was heartily seconded by the other two girls, "and no one has rented this beach house for awhile. So when we saw a repair truck here this morning, we thought maybe this was where … Obiwan? … lives."
"So we brought a welcome gift," Kanareida purred, one of the tawny ears atop her head twitching. "And we hope Obi-Wan will be most pleased."
"Yeah!" Erlea chirped, the wolfish grin on her face widening. "You know, muffins for a muffin!"
Qui-Gon nearly choked, an astounding feat as he wasn't actually eating anything at the time. Oh, he thought dumbly. Suddenly it all started to make a bizarre sort of sense.
"I … er … " he fumbled a little, then, staring at the hopeful faces before him, decided honesty was the best policy – if he told the truth from a certain point of view.
"Yes," he said cheerfully, "Little Obi and I will be most delighted to receive your gracious gift of … er, muffins." Qui-Gon had to restrain a sudden giggle. 'Muffins for a muffin' was simply too much for the stern façade the Jedi Master tried to portray.
"L… little Obi?" Paline asked hesitantly.
"My apprentice," Qui-Gon agreed with a smile. Quickly warming up to his slightly bent version of the truth, he added, "I would bring him out to thank you himself, but he's just finished his bath and is taking a nap now."
Silence from the porch. Then Melina ventured,
"P-Perhaps he isn't the young man we saw yesterday … resting?"
"I don't believe he was resting on the beach yesterday," Qui-Gon agreed. With the sunburn he'd brought home, Qui-Gon seriously doubted Obi-Wan had done much resting.
Qui-Gon took the opportunity to seize the basket of muffins from Melina's unresisting hand. He'd been serious in his remark about Obi-Wan earlier and was desperate to get him to eat something. "Perhaps when Obi-Wan wakes up, I'll send him to return your basket?" he suggested. He received four half-hearted nods in return and a brief set of directions to the housing area just up the beach where the young ladies lived.
When the door had closed on their visitors, Qui-Gon scarfed a couple of the still-warm muffins for himself and put a few on a plate for Obi-Wan.
"Wake up, Little Obi," he said brightly, toeing Obi-Wan's door open with his boot.
"Mnnrfrff?" Obi-Wan asked blearily, blinking rapidly to clear his blurred vision, apparently without success because he promptly buried his face back into his pillow. "Go away," came through quite clearly to the Jedi Master.
"Come on. It's time to apply more salve … and I brought you some muffins from our neighbors."
"Mffns?" Obi-Wan asked, shifting and scooting so that his back was bared to Qui-Gon's ministrations, but still refusing to lift his face from the pillow. He hissed at the contact to his sore skin, fidgeting as Qui-Gon rubbed the salve in.
"Yes. From our neighbors. A quartet of rather lovely females who claim to have seen you on the beach yesterday … " Qui-Gon waited a beat, then added with a perverse glee, " … Muffin."
Obi-Wan stilled suddenly. He turned to the side, his face flushing a brilliant red that actually rivaled his burnt skin. "Are they still out there?" he asked a hushed whisper.
"No, I've sent them on their way."
Obi-Wan exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Master."
"Am I to assume," Qui-Gon questioned, "that they were somehow involved in your getting sunburned, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan squirmed slightly. "Um … that would be a fair assumption, Master."
"Would you care to tell me what happened, Obi-Wan?"
"Not particularly, no, Master," Obi-Wan answered honestly.
"Extra chores," Qui-Gon threatened.
Obi-Wan ignored him, wincing under the treatment his skin was getting.
"Confined to quarters?"
Obi-Wan frowned, but held his ground.
Qui-Gon pulled out his trump card. "Dinner with Master Windu when we return to Coruscant."
"Mas-ter! That's not fair!" Obi-Wan protested, his cultured tones sounding distinctly whiny.
"And he does the cooking," Qui-Gon added, arching The Eyebrow and daring his Padawan to remain silent now.
Obi-Wan huffed, scooting away from Qui-Gon as the older man finished spreading the salve. He wrapped the blanket around his middle and pushed himself up so he was seated next to Qui-Gon, hunching over carefully with his elbows on his knees.
"You fight dirty, you know that?" he asked rhetorically. "Very well," the Padawan conceded with a brief eye roll. "I was practicing my Katas on the beach, Master," he began slowly, "when the young ladies … happened by."
"And?" Qui-Gon knew his Padawan was no less immune to female charms than any other young male his age, but Obi-Wan knew how to control himself better and always treated women of any species with respect and grace.
"And began making, well, rather frank remarks, Master," Obi-Wan admitted with a slight headshake, "that were highly inappropriate for young women."
"Good for your ego, my Padawan?" Qui-Gon teased, grinning at the wounded look Obi-Wan sent him. Obi-Wan was rather on the shy side when it came to the fairer sex, and was always embarrassed by the 'frank remarks' that were occasionally made about him in his presence. "And so you … " Qui-Gon prompted, eyebrow lifting again as he surveyed his blushing apprentice with an'out with it now' expression Obi-Wan knew quite well.
"Well, er, Master … " Obi-Wan floundered for a moment, "I didn't want them to know where we were staying, Master, so I didn't come directly back," he finally said defensively, cowering slightly. "I realize that it wasn't the most intelligent thing to do, Master, only I was … somewhat desperate at the time."
Qui-Gon, having met Obi-Wan's miniature fan club, understood. "I see. But what exactly did you do, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan's head dropped, revealing a very pink neck that blended nicely into his very pink back. He didn't speak aloud, but the answer suddenly flashed into Qui-Gon's mind.
Qui-Gon began to chuckle.
"All afternoon?" he asked curiously. Obi-Wan nodded slowly.
"On the beach?"
"There was a whole group of people sunbathing. I tried to … blend in. You know, Master," he added as almost an afterthought, "it's not a very good idea to intentionally lay out in the sun – the risk of damaging your skin is – "
Qui-Gon held up a hand to stop his apprentice before he could launch into lecture mode. "They could have mauled you, Padawan," he pointed out, recalling his brief meeting with the young women.
Obi-Wan's shoulders lifted a fraction in a tiny shrug. "It was a risk I was willing to take." He sounded so serious Qui-Gon couldn't keep in a laugh.
"It wasn't funny then and it's not funny now," Obi-Wan said darkly, looking back at the floor.
"Of course not, Padawan." Qui-Gon agreed with a snicker.
"I couldn't think of anything else to do," the Padawan said tiredly. "They pulled my braid!" he added defensively.
"And called you 'muffin,'" Qui-Gon added helpfully. Receiving a glower from Obi-Wan and an annoyed "Yesss," Qui-Gon made a heroic attempt at keeping a straight face. "Obi-Wan," – for some reason, his Wise Master voice didn't sound quite right with the giggles that kept slipping out – "the Force is a very powerful ally, and guides us as well as obeying our commands … but don't you think, perhaps, that – despite the fact they pulled your braid – using the Force to put yourself in a sleeping trance to avoid the attention of a few females is, er … an abuse of power?" Another tiny giggle escaped Qui-Gon's control, despite his best efforts.
Obi-Wan muttered something unintelligible, his hand coming up to absently rub at the back of his neck until his fingertips made contact with the burned skin of his shoulderblades and he snatched his hand away quickly.
"Well, at any rate," Qui-Gon said cheerfully, but not without a touch of sympathy, "I think you've learned a lesson here."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan sighed disconsolately, finally lifting his head to stare at his Master with his sharp blue-grey eyes. "If I ever, ever go out in the sun again, I'm wearing my robe. But Master … "
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"
"Do you think, perhaps, you could return the basket?"
Qui-Gon smiled. "I think that can be arranged … Muffin," he replied, finally succumbing to laughter when Obi-Wan smacked him upside the head with a pillow.
"Master!"
T
H
END :-)
Yes, I know the end was remarkably devoid of angst and instead dissolved into silliness. I make no apologies. :)