Written as an AU version of Jedi Quest #8: "The Changing of the Guard", by Jude Watson. In the book, it's Jedi Master Siri Tachi who dresses up as the flirtacious villain, Valadon, but I'm firmly of the mindset that it would have been a task much more easily/amusingly undertaken by Anakin. Slashy undertones, if you look for them a little.


Shimmersilk


"Anakin, I think this is quite possibly one of the worst ideas you've ever had," Obi-Wan muttered to his apprentice, who was slowly but surely making headway with a shimmery blue garment currently tangled about his shoulders. The Jedi Master reached over and helped the boy tug the flimsy silk down; even worn appropriately, the skimpy outfit hardly qualified as suitable for anything but as lingerie to be worn privately in one's home. And even then.

"Well, Siri doesn't feel comfortable in it, and somebody has to be Valadon," Anakin argued, smoothing his hands over his hips. Just barely seventeen and slim, yet athletically built, it wouldn't take much more for him to pass as Slam's notoriously flirtacious girlfriend than it would rigid, stern-faced Siri, who had gladly accepted the trade-off of the mask Anakin would have been using to impersonate Waldo, Slam's token security expert.

And, Obi-Wan admitted to himself resignedly, it wasn't completely terrible to see Anakin trussed up like this, for reasons he wasn't ready to explore. It shouldn't have been appealing to him at all to notice the way the makeshift bust of the outfit merged suggestively to give off the appearance of a small, feminine enough-looking chest. And he most certainly shouldn't have found his gaze dropping below his apprentice's - his Iapprentice's/I - bared navel, where the soft downy hairs on his stomach disappeared below a shimmersilk waistline, promising ... well.

"Your wig," Obi-Wan sighed, thrusting the adorning headpiece - another find from the Slam's wardrobe closet - at Anakin. It was a shoulder-length design, softly curled and strawberry blond, and quite honestly, if Anakin ever decided to grow his hair out once he became a Knight, Obi-Wan could see it looking rather like this.

Low-heeled shoes and a smattering of expensive-looking jewelry found in a chest in the wardrobe completed the ensemble. "How do I look, Mas- er, Slam?" Anakin joked, intentionally pitching his voice a couple of octaves higher than its normal cadence. He looked down at himself, then glanced at a low-slung vanity in the corner of the dressing chamber. "I think I need some makeup as the finishing touch," he said decidedly.

"Oh, no, Anak-"

"You said it has to be authentic," Anakin said pointedly, already digging through the stash of cosmetics. "Valadon is a flirt. She's going to take every opportunity to doll hers- hey, look at this!" he chortled, holding up a tube of blood-red lipstick. He applied it with a grace that Obi-Wan found himself suspicious of, then made a smacking sound with his mouth. "You should really put on some eyeliner, Master," he said, painted lips pressed almost obscenely into a smirk.

"Yes, or how about not." Obi-Wan crossed his arms, defiantly swearing to himself that he wasn't going to give over this time.

"Slam's supposed to be a fop," Anakin protested.

"No."

"Spoil sport," his apprentice grumped, and if Obi-Wan didn't know any better, he'd swear Anakin was pouting. The expression was gone a moment later, however, as Anakin stood up again, twirling a strand of 'his' hair around his finger and posing. "Don't I look pretty?" he posited breathily.

"Gorgeous," Obi-Wan sighed, rolling his eyes. "Are you quite finished?"

"I think so," Anakin said absently, looking as if he were considering something. "You know, Master, Slam and Valadon may have to occasionally act affectionate towards one another."

"I --" It took a few beats for Obi-Wan to realize what Anakin was inferring, and at this point, the boy had sidled up to him, the scent of what must have been Valadon's extremely girly perfume invading his nostrils. "Anakin, what in the blazes are you -- no, stop that," he snapped, twisting out from underneath his Padawan's reach, hands failing to grasp his shoulders. "It doesn't have to be Ithis/I authentic," he glared. "That ensemble you're wearing will be quite ... sufficient." He waved his hands, gesturing, as well as to allow a bit more space between himself and Anakin, who had quite possibly lost his mind. Obi-Wan felt slightly dizzy, and wondered just what exactly was in Valadon's perfume.

They eventually met up with Ferus and Siri in the main section of the ship to go over last-minute instructions. Dressed much less elaborately than either Obi-Wan or Anakin, Ferus snorted as they entered. "Glad to see you'll go to any lengths for a mission, Anakin."

"I know you'd jump at the chance to do the same," Anakin retorted breezily, brushing a stray curl out of his face. "It's just unfortunate that you don't have the hips for it."

Obi-Wan interrupted them before one of their infamous squabbles got too heavily underway. "Let's get this little show on the road, shall we?" He rubbed at his temples tiredly; much as it aggrieved him to have to assume such an outlandish identity, he knew that the rest of their mission would hardly be cut-and-dry. This was only one of the hardships he'd have to endure; best to put his best foot forward and all that.

Siri sat down anew to tinker with the ship's controls as they neared their destination. Obi-Wan took a seat next to Anakin and stared out the window, taking in their immediate surroundings. 'It could be worse', a voice in his head echoed quietly. ' IYou/I could have had to be Valadon.'

Obi-Wan smiled wryly to himself. 'Yes, Qui-Gon.'