Master Apprentice Archive Your Dream Date Awaits! Quick search:

Rating: PG

Archive: M-A, Jacynthe's (goes without saying), Left of Center: http://www.geocities.com/padawanhilary/index.html

Series: gods, you know, I could do a whole series with the spam I get.

Categories: Q/O, PWP, romance, first-time

Feedback: Yes, please.

Summary: Qui-Gon gets spammed. Obi-Wan gets jealous.

Spoilers/Warnings: none

Disclaimers: Someday I intend to use my own beloved, beautiful characters to write for fame, fortune and glory. Today is not that day.

Notes: Answering my own challenge, posed to QO_OTP@topica.com: "It can be whatever length you like, in which one of the two gets a piece of spam: Find your dream date!! Thousands waiting to meet you... etc." This just because I got one too many Dream Date!!! ads in my mailbox. Probably next is Increase Your Penis Size! Unless someone else wants that bunny (please).

/..../ thoughts.

Qui-Gon blinked when the message came up. It was shockingly bright, the screen suddenly full of flashing red letters proclaiming that "Thousands Of Possible Dream Dates Are Waiting To Meet You Now!!" Bad music chimed tinnily out of the comm speakers.

"What is that?" Obi-Wan asked from the sofa, looking up from a three-dimensional logic puzzle he was working out for Ergonomic Development Studies.

Qui-Gon snorted. "An advertisement. 'Meet the being of your fantasies. Sign on now for a free trial period.' It's a dating service."

The padawan chuckled, going back to his puzzle. But the music did not stop, and he glanced up again.

"You aren't reading that?"

Qui-Gon glanced over his shoulder at his padawan. "Why not? Perhaps I should get out more. Meet someone."

"Meet someone?"

Pivoting in his seat, the master fixed the padawan with a cool stare. The padawan went back to his puzzle, sulking.

"Meet. Someone." Obi-Wan said in to his mirror, irritatedly plaiting his braid. "Why would he want to do that?"

But of course his master deserved to be with someone special, but did he need to do it through a dating service? How degrading. How unmasterly. Qui-Gon could net anyone he wanted, anywhere. That tall, lithe form, big and strong, the noble features, the regally-swept back hair, the incredibly blue eyes...

Sighing mournfully, Obi-Wan studied himself in the mirror. At a reasonably attractive twenty-three, he knew he was probably the least likely candidate for his master's affections and the most desirous of them. When he thought about Qui-Gon sitting at a table across from some tall, imposing blond with a sensual husk to her voice, or an elfin brunette with a hint of distinguished gray in his hair, the padawan felt a twinge of completely useless-- but nevertheless real-- jealousy.

"You're his padawan," he told himself sternly, the frown creasing between his eyebrows as he banded his braid. "He would probably never see you that way."

Hurt, and worse, resigned, Obi-Wan shrugged on his outer tunic and finished dressing, dreading his master's liaison.

Qui-Gon checked his appearance in the long mirror in his bedroom and then came out into the common room, smiling a little. He raised his arms. "How do I look?"

"Very nice, Master," the padawan said smoothly, noting the dark gray, very sleek two-piece set. /Liar. He looks sexy. He looks edible./ "Is that new? It makes you look very distinguished, very noble."

Qui-Gon's smile widened. "Why thank you, Padawan. Well, I mustn't be late. Dinner begins at seven."

Obi-Wan nodded, gazing forlornly at his master's perfectly handsome attire. And then Qui-Gon said the three most dreaded, horrible words Obi-Wan could have imagined:

"Don't wait up."

Obi-Wan sat on the common room sofa, legs folded in front of him, working his puzzle to the light of one small lamp. He wasn't waiting up. No, he absolutely was not. He had to get this puzzle worked for class, that was all. Never mind that he'd already found two solutions and was almost finished with a third. Never mind that he knew its workings by now and if he chose, he could reconstruct the thing to make it provide three more solutions.

When the door slid open, his stomach turned over.

/Please let him be alone, please don't let him have brought someone here, I couldn't stand it--/

"Well Obi-Wan, goodness, it's practically the morning," said Qui-Gon, cheerfully, coming out of the hallway. Obi-Wan tried to look casual but could not stop himself from glancing around Qui-Gon, dreading and hoping at the same time.

"Yes, Master," he said quietly, couching his relief at his master's aloneness. He held up the puzzle. "It's this. If I come up with any more solutions I think they might give me a degree in ergonomic design."

The master chuckled and sat next to Obi-Wan. "The light isn't strong enough for you to be doing such close work," he admonished gently, but did not press further. Obi-Wan was grown now, and did not need the badgering of an old master to find his way in such small matters.

But Obi-Wan nodded his head. "You're right, Master," he said, and turned the light up. And for the sake of propriety and his own unwillingness to be alone at the moment, he said, "How was your date?"

Qui-Gon's eyes went distant, and Obi-Wan's stomach turned over again.

"It was nice," the master said thoughtfully. "She had a very nice smile and an edgy wit. We sat in the restaurant and talked for a good long while."

Obi-Wan smiled in spite of himself. "But....?"

Frowning a little, the master shook his head. "She absolutely would not stop touching me. It was rather unnerving." He sighed, then shrugged. "Oh well. It was mostly a pleasant evening out."

Obi-Wan felt strangely disappointed. His master certainly seemed so. "I'm sorry, Master. Sometimes those matchmakers just aren't any good after all."

"No loss. I have another date the day after tomorrow."

"Another?" Obi-Wan asked, and the sensation of his stomach curling up on itself was by now quite familiar.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Well. I'm going to bed." He opened his mouth to say that his padawan had best get there too, didn't he have classes in the morning? But he stopped himself, only just in time. /More badgering,/ he sighed mentally. /Surely he's come to resent that by now and is only too polite to say./

But Obi-Wan only waited until Qui-Gon had gone into his own room before he turned the lamp off and went to bed.

"Here I go again, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon smiled, adjusting a dark green jacket over a buttoned tunic. "Wish me luck," he added as he walked out.

"Good luck," Obi-Wan called, torn between meaning it and not.

Several hours later, Obi-Wan, puttering yet with his logic puzzle, looked up as his master came in blessedly alone.

"Hello, Master. How did it go?"

"Quite well, actually. He was very attractive. Had the most perfect green eyes." Qui-Gon sighed. "But no."

"Oh." Obi-Wan worried at his bottom lip. "I'm sorry, Master." He paused, then asked cautiously, "Trying again?"

The master smiled. "Might as well. The trial period lasts the rest of the month."

"Oh..."

Qui-Gon turned in his mirror. "Should I tuck it in or leave it out?" he asked Obi-Wan, who was lounging on the bed on his stomach, propped on his elbows with his feet in the air.

"Leave it out," Obi-Wan advised. "More modern that way." Really, he did not want to say that the leggings his master wore accentuated him so perfectly that Obi-Wan felt better if the tunic were hanging down past his hips, covering up that luscious, perfect--

"Do you think I should leave my hair down this time?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It'll be in your way. You'll hate it." Really, he did not want to say that his master looked too alluring with his hair down, framing his face just so and--

"What about these boots?" Qui-Gon held up a tall pair of softly polished brown ones.

"Those are too tall," Obi-Wan said, when really, he did not want to say that the tall boots molded themselves to those solid calves so beautifully that it was really best not to--

"I'm so tired of having to dress this way," Qui-Gon muttered. "I feel as though I'm displaying myself for no purpose."

"But you look so nice, Master." /Nice? Nice??/ Obi-Wan shouted at himself. He bit back a sigh and tried not to think that his master looked undeniably sexy but he missed lounging around in their free time in bare feet and Jedi uniforms.

"Well, another night, another chance," Qui-Gon said cheerfully, closing his closet. "I imagine you'll have worked out your twentieth solution to the puzzle by the time I get home," he added, smiling.

"Twenty-third. And a half," Obi-Wan said dryly. "Seven reconstructions."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "Your puzzle is jinxing my love life."

Obi-Wan's stomach turned over.

At a ridiculous hour, Qui-Gon trudged back in, alone yet again.

"Master?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Very smart man," he sighed. "Liked astrophysics. I could barely keep up with him. You'd have enjoyed talking to him."

"I'm sure," Obi-Wan lied.

Qui-Gon scrubbed a hand over his face. "Something was missing though."

"Tea, Master?"

The master looked at Obi-Wan. "Tea was missing?"

"No. Would you like some?"

Qui-Gon sank onto the couch. "That would be a kindness."

Night after night, Obi-Wan watched his master go out, dressed impeccably, hair smooth and in place, beard combed and groomed, eyes bright and hopeful. And night after night, Qui-Gon returned, increasingly disappointed but still hopeful about the next time..

"She had the most gorgeous, soft chestnut hair," he sighed once, "but was not a very good conversationalist."

"His fidgeting was quite endearing. He didn't like my stillness, though."

"He understood perfectly the intricacies of Deltan political diplomacy, but goodness he was dry."

"We spent a good deal of time chuckling over her intent dislike for poetry. Still, she would talk of nothing else."

Obi-Wan despaired. All of these people from all areas of Coruscanti life and not one of them had been right for Qui-Gon. He would have been relieved, pleased even, had Qui-Gon not grown steadily more discouraged.

And yet Qui-Gon was holed up in his room again, dressing for another date.

/Great Force, this is the longest month ever,/ Obi-Wan complained to himself, and was quite stunned when Qui-Gon came out of his room in his leggings and undertunic, no boots, hair down, and a tired, anxious expression on his face.

"But-- I thought--" Obi-Wan began, displaying mild puzzlement which quickly turned to terrified mystification when Qui-Gon sank to the floor in front of him, looking earnestly up into Obi-Wan's eyes.

"I haven't been dressing for another date," Qui-Gon explained, sounding alone and sad. "I've been screwing my courage up to come out here and-- well, Force, Obi-Wan, all I can think to do is apologize."

Obi-Wan frowned. "Apologize? For what, Master?"

"For trying to replace you."

Blinking, Obi-Wan breathed, "Replace me?"

The master sighed. "All month, Obi-Wan, I've been seeing people. And all month, there's been something wrong. They all had appealing qualities and then one thing that would put me off. Well--" he pulled in a deep breath-- "it's taken me this long to realize what I was looking for."

"And-- what is that?" Obi-Wan thought his heart might pound itself right out of his body if Qui-Gon didn't take that stare away.

"Someone with diplomacy and sharp, unafraid wit. Someone who likes astrophysics and hates poetry. Someone with green eyes and soft chestnut hair, who fidgets a lot and--"

The kiss silenced Qui-Gon's words softly, clumsily, Obi-Wan's hands on either side of his master's head. When it ended, Qui-Gon smiled.

"...and who makes the best tea."

End.