Title: A Pointless Little Naked Obi-Wan Story

Author: Syntyche

Rating: Just T, unfortunately

Legal: Not mine, but delicious anyway

Reviews: Adored and cherished. Please do it!

Summary: The title is pretty self-explanatory.

Author's Note: This really short two-parter came about after I read a review left by charie for part four of A Not Pointless Little Hurt/Comfort Fic, the first bit of which said simply: 'Hm. Naked Obi-Wan. I like…' and I thought, 'hm, I like that, too! I think my next fic will be "A Pointless Little Naked Obi-Wan Fic" and I wonder if anyone would read it?'

So I thought I'd find out. And I wrote the entire thing in fifteen minutes, so … yeah. It may be bad. I figured I'd post the first half, and if anyone actually wants to read the second half, I'll post it Friday.

See? I'm not kidding when I say comments and reviews feed the Muse. And here's proof.

OoOoOoOoOo

A Pointless Little Naked Obi-Wan Story

By: Syntyche, who is not as embarrassed as she maybe should be, and probably will be tomorrow.

Part One

General Obi-Wan Kenobi stretched slowly, his blue-grey eyes closing reflexively at the simple luxury of arching his aching back and straining to extend his arms until the corded muscle in his forearms felt taunt and his slender fingers spread in exquisite relief.

Force, he'd been so … restricted lately.

Gone were the afternoons of saber practice in the Temple's training halls, and lazy evenings spent curled in his favorite chair – Qui-Gon's old, worn-down lounger – with a history text or something or other. Gone were mornings spent meditating in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and visits to the crèche to play with the younglings.

All of those things Obi-Wan had loved had been replaced swiftly by ration bars and base camps, hurried orders and days spent waiting in the rain and snow, or beneath a merciless sun that seemed determined to burn him to a well-done crisp. Not that Obi-Wan would complain and he certainly didn't. It was simply the way things were.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had been replaced by General Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator.

He couldn't say he liked the change, but he accepted it with his innate practicality and had gone to war as ordered. That had been three years ago.

Three long years of hardening himself against endless fighting, against the slaughter that accompanied what some had dubbed the "Clone Wars," three years he and his Padawan had begun daily sacrificing self and sometimes sanity for the Greater Cause, with no respite in sight.

It was actually a surprise to him that he and Anakin had been called back to Coruscant; if Chancellor Palpatine hadn't been captured by Grievous, the two Jedi would still be far afield. Anakin had certainly earned his time in the spotlight, rescuing not only the Chancellor, but Obi-Wan as well after the Jedi master had had a set of stairs dropped on him.

There had been something odd about that fight – he and Anakin should have been able to take Dooku and his battle droids – but some unknown interference had crowded in; Obi-Wan knew that Dooku alone didn't have the strength to fend off Anakin while simultaneously lifting and then throwing and then pulling a landing down onto Obi-Wan.

Where the interference had come from was what puzzled Obi-Wan as he stood in the shower of his quarters, still fully clad right down to his boots. He'd left Anakin to the waiting press and politicians – he hadn't been teasing when he'd told Anakin that he had earned it; although Obi-Wan had been referring less to Anakin's rather spectacular rescue and more to the bone-jarring shock of Obi-Wan realizing the shields of Grievous' flagship were still up – and the Jedi Master had returned to his quarters with the intent of resting for just a short while before making his report to the Council.

Once he'd arrived in his quarters, however, Obi-Wan had realized that he was actually too filthy to consider going near his long-unused bed, and in fact too grimy, really, to even sit on his couch. A shower was in order, he decided, and he'd actually made it as far as the fresher before weariness had overcome him and now he leaned forward, hands braced against the shower wall and his head down, ginger hair spilling into his eyes as he tried to summon up the energy to undress and proceed with his shower.

After a moment, he shrugged off his long robe and it dropped to his feet, small clouds of dust rising up from the crumpled brown fabric to cling to the shiny mahogany of his knee-high boots. His belt soon followed, landing atop his robe with a soft thunk. Obi-Wan watched it fall idly, resting his head wearily on his forearm, inhaling the scent of mingled sweat and dirt that saturated his clothing and skin.

All right, enough stalling.

Slim hands fumbled and he managed to pull off his over tunic followed by under tunic as he again relished the beautiful agony of stretching his tense muscles. His body was no longer that of a young and eager Padawan, and General Kenobi was finding that it took a little longer these days to recover from the physical toll that the war was leeching out of him. Months of rations, fitful sleep only when he could catch a moment, and day after day in the field had burned every spare ounce from his lean body, leaving finely sculpted muscles as well as a multitude of new scars that joined the others he'd earned over the years.

Almost there, he thought, eyeing the pile of grimy clothes with some amusement. Boots, trousers and shorts to go …

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Well? Anyone interested in the second half? It involves no plot, but gratuitous and loving descriptions of unclothed Revenge of the Sith Obi-Wan. And I kept it T-rated, so it's not too bad. :)