DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
You try to hide a triumphant smile as you enter the party and stride toward your friends, which just happens to require a walk past Obi-Wan. You catch his glance out of the corner of your eye as you sashay past, the fabric of your dress providing more come-hither suggestion than any word or look could.
Kim, looking her Sithly best, laughs the minute she sees you. “If you swing your hips anymore, that boy is gonna need crash cart.”
“Well, it’d serve him right for baiting me. That’ll teach him to tell me I can’t do something. I may as well rub it in his face,” you say.
“Oh, I see,” Kayla says, joining the conversation. “And that’s why you’re doing this, just to prove him wrong,” she says skeptically.
“Of course,” you say. “What other motive would I have?”
She raises an eyebrow at you, “So you’re not actually trying to lead him on.”
“Pppphhh,” you spurt, flapping your hand. “Please. I just wanna make him eat his words. That and get him back for being such a wuss this afternoon.”
“A what?”
You turn around at the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice. “Hello, jelly boy,” you say.
“What did you call me?”
“Jelly boy.”
“No, before that,” he says.
“Oh. Wuss,” you say matter of factly.
“I do not appreciate that,” he says.
“Hey, I told you to be a man. But you went all softy over some icky thing that wasn’t even cute. I just calls ‘em as I sees ‘em,” you say, distinctly aware that you shouldn’t be so bitchy, but you blame it on the Sith germs.
“I still do not appreciate it,” he says.
“And I didn’t appreciate your patronizing, holier than thou attitude. You may find this all very amusing being Jedi Man and all, but that thing scared the living hell out of us. Now all I’m gonna think about for days is that icky thing hiding under my covers or in my shower.” You stop when you realize your voice has become a little louder than necessary. “Soooo…. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.” You notice he makes a motion to speak, and you jump in, “And to top it off, you go and insult my appearance.”
He jerks his head back in surprise. “I did not.”
“You did. That crack about my flannel pajamas.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that,” you say. “Do I ever pick on you for wearing the SAME damn thing every time I see you?”
He gives you a sheepish look and then says, “Well, this isn’t the same thing I was wearing when you saw me last time because, as you’ll recall, you spread – goo, I believe was the word you used – all over me.”
You bite your lips so you will not give him the satisfaction of making you laugh. “Aw hell,” you say as a smile bursts across your face.
Obi-Wan grins from ear to ear. “Forgiven again,” he says proudly.
“Now don’t go getting all cocky on me. If some weirdo creature jumps on my head, you’d better respond appropriately,” you say.
“That provides an interesting visual given some of the people in this room,” he says.
You give him a terse look and say, “Tough Jedi’s only allowed here. No wusses.”
“I promise, I shall not fail you,” he says.
“Okay then,” you say and wave at Jenn as she walks by in her Girl Scout uniform. You turn back to Obi-Wan who has his hands on his hips and a what-the-hell-is-that look on his face. It takes a second before it dawns on you. “Obi-Wan, she’s a Girl Scout, not a schoolgirl. Big difference! And besides, she’s a Master chick. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“How could I ever with you by my side?” he says.
“Ahh!” you respond, offended.
“No,” he chuckles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. Truly, I didn’t. I mean that you would never give me the opportunity to inflate my own ego. Really, I promise,” he says, still laughing.
“Oh fine,” you say. “I’ll believe you this time.”
“And I think,” he says and then pauses. “I think that you are causing quite a bit of envy standing here next to me.”
“Oh please,” you say. “We girls are not a jealous bunch. Share and share alike, and all that.”
“No, I meant I am the one being envied at the moment,” he says. “I concede to you. I did underestimate you. You look quite…quite….”
“Left you speechless, have I?” you say sarcastically. “Don’t bother to finish. I’m afraid to hear it,” you say.
“Oh,” he says. “Well, it would have been very complimentary.”
You snort as you notice – for not the first time – that his eyes wander down the front of you. You place a finger under his chin to bring his attention back up. “Eyes are here, braidiac,” you say pointing to your eye.
His cheeks turn an interesting shade of red, but before he can respond, Kim calls out, “He’s here!” and she runs past you with her camera. You turn to see Mace Windu entering the room.
“Hellllooo, ladies!” Mace says as Kim snaps away with her camera and Jenn flies past you waving a big box of cookies in the air. As if on cue, the music suddenly changes and a cheer erupts throughout the room.
You turn back to Obi-Wan. “Sorry, gotta go shake my groovethang. But the fuddy duddy table is wide open over there,” you say pointing to the corner, knowing that you’ve never seen this man dart to the dance floor…at least not sober. You turn away and run out to the floor because no one can pass up dancing with Master Windu.
The room floats around you as you join the crowd…the effects of the cold meds no doubt. Mace eats up the attention while the other Jedi’s just kind of stand around and loiter. No one cuts in on Mace’s song even though there are plenty of women on the floor.
The song finally ends, so a few of the younger Jedi’s take the opportunity to get loose. You stay with your friends, all pointing to each other as you sing, “Yoooouu can daaance! You can jii-hive! Having the time of your life! ooooooooo! See that girl! Watch that scene! Diggin’ the dancing queeeeenn!!”
Your body begins to tell you to take a little break, but the next song starts, and you just can’t leave because of the groove. It is a party, after all. You can suffer tomorrow. As you find the beat of the new song, you giggle as a few more Jedi’s take the floor to the tune of this manly song, as they usually do. You take a step back and ram right into a body. You turn around to apologize and discover to your great shock that it’s Obi-Wan. He steps forward and you to back up, but he places his hand on your back and brings you forward, forcing you to dance closer than normal for this uptempo song as the lyrics begin:
I would walk ten miles on my hands and knees
Aint no doubt about it baby, it’s you I aim to please
I’d wrestle with a lion and a grizzly bear
It’s my life baby, but I don’t care
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
As the chorus draws out, Obi-Wan waggles his eyebrows enough to make you finally laugh out loud at his little musical declaration to you. And the man can dance sober. Who knew? Although it’s more of an exaggerated sway with you standing so close together.
For you baby I would swim the sea
There’s nuthin’ I do for you that’s too tough for me
I’d put out a burnin’ building with a shovel and dirt
And not even worry about getting hurt
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
Aint that tough enough?
Through the second verse and chorus your eyes dart around the crowd…and you both find the humor in the younger men strutting for the other girls in all their tough Jedi-ness. You look up at the ceiling and laugh again…but the combination of dancing and looking up is a little overwhelming as little black spots race across your line of vision. You stop and lower your head into your hands and try to rub the dizziness out of you.
You feel Obi-Wan’s hands on your arms. “Let’s sit down. It’s too early for you to be passing out,” he says and leads you to a table while you continue to your rub your forehead. You plunk down in a chair, and suddenly all the energy you possessed mere minutes ago drains right out of you. You place your hands on the table and slump forward to rest your head on them. “Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asks, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.
“I hate being sick,” you say. “I’d rather be dead than sick.”
“You should go to a healer,” he says.
“I don’t like doctors,” you say.
“But they’re not doctors in your sense. They’re healers,” he says. “They could have you well in no time.”
“You do it your way, I’ll do it mine, swami. I don’t like doctors or anybody else with pokey, needly things.”
“But a healer doesn’t—“
“No,” you say, still resting your head on the table.
“Alright then,” he says. “Can I get you anything?”
“No. Nothing,” you say.
“Margaritas, anyone?” Your head pops up to see the burly, half-nekkid cocktail waiter holding a tray out to you.
“Hello, gorgeous!” you say…more to the tray than to the waiter. You reach up and grab one. “You’re a lifesaver,” you say to the waiter.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Obi-Wan asks. “You don’t drink much, and with your being sick—“ He stops speaking as you give him a look that could turn him to dust.
“Get a beer and don’t rain on my parade,” you say.
“Right,” he says.
A couple hours and a few margaritas later, your cold has miraculously left your body…or at least your current level of perception. In fact, this is the best party that you’ve ever attended! You raise your hand out toward the margarita man as he passes by again, but Obi-Wan takes a hold of your wrist and lowers your arm.
“I think you’ve had quite enough of those,” he says.
“Aaahh, look who’s talkin’,” you say. “How many glasses of Crrrrr-eeellian Ale is that? Five, I think, if my math is correct.”
“Two. I’ve had two,” he says.
“Oh. Fine. Suit yourself,” you snort as you look to the others at the table, rolling your eyeballs, and gesturing toward Obi-Wan with a shrug of your shoulders. You giggle at Kim who is nuzzled up close to Mace for her exclusive, and Kayla is at her rightful place at Qui-Gon’s side.
“Don’t worry,” Qui-Gon says. “He’ll have another glass while you’re not looking.”
“Whatever,” you say. “I want another margarita. Hey!” you call out trying to wave down the waiter.
“Yeah!” Kim says. “Get that guy over here!”
You sigh loudly. “I think he’s ignoring us.”
“Here,” Kim says, sliding her glass over to you. “Finish mine. I’ll get him.” You happily take her glass while Kim wobbles up and then stands on her chair, waving her arms. “Hey! Nekkid waiter guy!”
Kayla cackles out loud. “Try the bartender! Maybe he’ll pay attention.”
“OK!” you yell. You get up on shaky legs and stand on your chair as well.
“I think you should get down,” Obi-Wan says. “You’re libel to fall down.”
“Lemme handle this,” you say, shushing his hand away as he anticipates a stumble on your part. You clear your throat and say to Kayla. “Watch this.” And then you belt out to the tune of Big Spender, “HEY BARTENDER! BAWM-BAWM-BAWM-BAWM!” wildly swinging your hips on each beat of the music you make, and then you laugh hysterically as the women do the same and the men howl and catcall…all except Obi-Wan, of course, who under normal circumstances would join right in, but for some reason it doesn’t sit well coming from you.
“Wooooo!” Mace calls. “Sing it! Swing it!” he yells enthusiastically, clapping his hands.
Qui-Gon whistles and pulls a credit out of his pocket and tosses it at you. As you squeal and reach down to grab the money, you wobble off balance and take a header towards the table. Obi-Wan jumps up and grabs you around the waist and swoops you to the floor.
“Alright, enough of that,” he says, directing you to sit down. But instead you push him down into his chair and plunk down on his lap, lazily swinging your arm over his head and around his shoulders. He looks a little surprised but adjusts his legs to accommodate you.
“You know what yer problem ish, OO-BEE-WAANN?” you slur as you pound your finger into his chest.
“No. But I am sure you will tell me,” he says, mildly amused.
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Qui-Gon says.
“YOUR problem,” you say in drunk exaggeration, “is…is….” You cover your mouth and snort a laugh, eyeing the others at the table. “Oopsie! I forgot!
“Aaaaww,” everyone says in unison.
Then you wave your hand madly at them. “No wait. Ummm….” You turn your face back to Obi-Wan’s. “Your problem is that you’re,” you bang your forehead against his, “toooo cuuuute. Mmm-hmmm!” you nod definitively against his head. “Too cute,” you say again as you swat his chest. Then you giggle and turn toward Mace. “And so are you! And you!” you say pointing at Qui-Gon. “Annnnd….” you quickly look around the room. “And that guy over there!” You point madly toward somebody. “CUUUUUTE,” you say swinging your head back toward Obi-Wan again.
“And this is a problem, how?” Obi-Wan asks, even more amused this time.
“Cuzzzz….” you say. “Cuz you’re too cute.”
“Meaning?” he asks.
“MEEEEANING….” you say, rolling your eyeballs. “Meaning that you’re used to women jus’ THROWING themselves at you willy nilly,” you poke his chest again and emphasize, “willl-eeeee, nillll-eeee.”
“Sounds like a helluva problem to me,” Mace says with a laugh.
Your eyes grow wide as you scold Mace, “Lemme finish….pppsshh,” you say flapping your hand toward Mace. “You have all these women, willy nilly and stuff…and you’re not used to somebody like me who doesn’t do what you say just cuz yer cuuute.”
“Ah, I see,” Obi-Wan says, taking a sip of his third glass of ale.
“And it jus’ KILLS you that a woman could refuse yer cuuute-ness,” you state, opening your eyes wide and staring into his.
“Give her another margarita, and she won’t be refusing much longer,” Kayla says to Obi-Wan, causing the table to crack up.
“Hey!” you cry. You grab a small ice cube out of a lonely water glass and toss it at her.
She gasps exaggeratedly and with a wicked grin grabs several ice cubes and throws them back at you.
“Uh-oh,” Qui-Gon says.
“OH!” you yell and look around the table for ammo as Kim cackles. You quickly lunge for strawberries and hurl them at Kayla and Kim.
“You’re dead meat!” Kayla says with a laugh and sinks her fingers into a piece of cake.
You squeal and slide off of Obi-Wan’s lap and try to hide behind him. “Oh nooo,” he says playfully. “You started this.” He reaches around, grabs you, and pulls you back in front of him, sitting you down on his lap and holding you in place as the cake makes impact on your arm. You scoop the goo off and fling it on the table and then lick your fingers. Suddenly you eye a bottle of whipped cream on an adjacent table and curse your lack of Jedi skill, as it would be really cool to woosh that thing over and attack. You squeal in surprise as the can is suddenly airborne and flying toward you, directly into Obi-Wan’s outstretched hand. You look at him, and he wiggles his eyebrows wickedly. You turn and grab the can from him and fire at Kayla and Kim while Mace and Qui-Gon try to duck out of the way.
“No fair!” Kim says. “Macey, be a MAN and do something!”
Obi-Wan laughs. “Gods, what is it with you women?”
At his words, you, Kim, and Kayla stop all action and stare at Obi-Wan.
“Uh-ooohh,” Qui-Gon says again.
You begin to shake the whipped cream can in a threatening manner toward Obi-Wan while Kim and Kayla check the flight potential of each dessert on the table. “Yes, Obi-Wan,” you say. “Tell us, what it is with we women.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes grow wide and he says, “You…you’re all….”
“Yessss….” Kayla says swaying a nice, full spoonful of ice cream.
Obi-Wan flashes one of the best killer smiles of his life. “You’re all so beautiful and so worth defending. So, Master Mace, why didn’t you do something?”
“Awww….” Kayla says as you all smile sweetly at Obi-Wan. He smiles at all of you and nods his head….until Kim yells, “Get him!” And with that, you spray away as Kayla flings spoonfuls of ice cream, Kim squirts chocolate sauce, and Jenn appears from nowhere to throw cookies.
Obi-Wan ducks his head behind his arms until the assault stops. “OK, OK! I’m sorry,” he laughs, peeking out from behind his arms…not that it helped much since his hair is covered in dessert. He lowers his arms and says, “Forgiven?”
You quickly raise your can and spray him right in the face. “Yeah, forgiven,” you say, tossing the can onto the table and sitting down in your chair.
Obi-Wan grabs a napkin and begins cleaning himself off as Qui-Gon chuckles, “You have much to learn, padawan.”
“And so do you, Master,” Kayla purrs. “Whipped cream?” she asks, grabbing the can and holding it up to him.
You chuckle lightly, but feel a heavy, drowsy fog spread through your body and lean back in your chair.
“Are you alright,” Obi-Wan says.
“Yep,” you say as you lean to the side and slouch against his shoulder.
The next thing you know, you feel moment and hear quiet footsteps…someplace. You slowly recognize the object beneath you as your bed. You move slightly and make a slight groan.
“Shhhh, go back to sleep.”
The sound of Obi-Wan’s voice startles you, and you snap your eyes open…only to be assaulted by searing pain and terrible nausea. You groan loudly and shut your eyes, covering your hands with your face. As you awaken, you are aware that you are still in your clothes from the night before, sprawled out on top of the covers.
You roll to your side, but the pain in your head increases. “Oh God,” you say, “I think I’m gonna die.”
“I think you’ll survive,” Obi-Wan whispers, touching your arm. “But in the future you might want to remember not to drink.”
“Oh fine, tell me that now,” you moan.
“I tried to tell you last night,” he says.
“Are you going to torment me now?” you ask impatiently.
“No,” he says softly. “I have to go. But you go back to sleep.”
“No,” you say emphatically and grab his hand. “Kill me. Kill me now. You have a weapon. Use it,” you plead, pulling on his hand.
“Sorry, I only kill gooey creatures,” he says.
You whimper. And then it occurs to you that you don’t remember how you got to bed. “Wait. How’d I get here?”
“I brought you up,” he says. “And I stayed to make sure you’d be alright.”
“Oh,” you say. “Did I do anything stupid?”
“Aside from standing on your chair and singing to the bartender? No, nothing stupid,” he says.
You whine at the thought of having to live that one down. Another wave of nausea washes over you, and you groan, “I think I’d better find the bathroom.”
“Are you going to be sick?” he asks, helping you up.
“Eventually,” you say. “Just get me there. Then you can go.”
“Are you sure,” he asks, his voice concerned as he walks you toward the bathroom.
“I don’t think we need to share this,” you say as you arrive in the bathroom.
“Alright,” he says. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” you say. You wave half-heartedly as he walks away toward your bedroom door…but not fast enough for your preference as you succumb to the worship of the porcelain god. Humiliation sinks into your core as the horrible experience ends and you slink back against the wall with Obi-Wan’s help. “You shoulda kept walking,” you say burying your face in your hands as he flushes the toilet.
“You know I couldn’t do that,” he says quietly, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Do you want to get back to the bed?”
“No,” you say. “I’d better stay here.”
“Can I get you anything? Water?”
You make a disgusted noise at the mention of it. “No, nothing. Thanks. You can go.” He stands up slowly. “No wait,” you say.
“What is it?”
“Could you just grab my pajamas? I gotta get out of these clothes. You know the ones,” you say waving your hand at him.
“Yes,” he says with a soft chuckle.
“They’re in the second drawer,” you say as he walks into your bedroom.
“The plaid ones or the ones with the cute little…what are these?”
“Sheep…does it matter?” you whine pathetically. “Just bring some.”
“I’m sorry,” he says and walks in with the cute little sheep ones, thank God. They’ll be less trouble on the eyes than the plaid. He hands them to you, and you grab his hand and shake it slightly.
“Thank you,” you say, physically unable to actually look up at him. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” he says.
“You were right,” you say. “I should have just worn my flannel pajamas last night…and then just gone to bed and skipped the party.”
He kneels down in front of you, still holding your hand. “No, you shouldn’t have. You had fun.”
“And am paying for it,” you say.
“And you were beautiful in this dress,” he says softly.
“’Were’ being the operative word,” you say.
“Still are,” he says. He reaches to place his hand on your head.
“Ow,” you say in real pain as his fingers touch your temple.
“Sorry,” he says. He brings your hand up to his lips and quickly kisses your fingers. “Just move slowly and sleep it off.”
“That’s the plan,” you say. “See you later.”
“Well, actually….” he says.
“That’s OK, I wouldn’t want to be around me either,” you say.
“No, no, that’s not it. Qui-Gon and I have to go away for a little while,” he says.
You seem to recall something about that being the reason for last night’s party, but it hurts too much to think. “How long?”
“I don’t know for sure,” he says. “A few weeks, maybe more.”
“Well, be careful then,” you say, leaning against the bathtub for support.
“I will,” he stands up and walks a couple steps and then stops in the bathroom doorway. “I’ll miss you,” he says quietly.
“Me too,” you say, attempting to smile and unsure if you really accomplish it.
He smiles and walks to the bed, grabs a pillow, and returns to place it between you and the bathtub.
“Thanks,” you say.
“Anytime,” he says. “Goodbye.”
“Bye,” you say and watch him finally walk out the door, vaguely aware of the pang of worry that rises in you…but it hurts to much too think about that feeling, too. You close your eyes and pray for unconsciousness…or death, whichever comes first.