Title: Dinner Is Served

Author: Layren

Timeframe: This one jumps all over the place. First we see Obi-Wan and Qui- Gon then Padawan Qui-Gon and Dooku.

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff, humor, vignette

Summary: A Padawan's cooking project ends in disaster ...

Disclaimer: All the Characters except for Kyran Josel belong to George Lucas. Kyran is the only one who belongs to me. I made no profit from this story other than a warm fuzzy feeling.

Notes: Look guys Obi-Wan cooperated for me..wow..

Thirteen-year-old Obi-Wan stared at the recipe on the screen and sighed. It was hopelessly complicated looking, especially considering the fact that he had no cooking skills whatsoever. He glanced around at the various kitchen appliances, unsure of what the functions were of all of them except for the kafmaker. /Maybe I should just dump it all in there and see what happens./ he thought ruefully. Somehow he didn't think that would work, however. He winced as his Master's loud off-key singing sounded from shower.

You're off-key a bit there, Master.He sent. He scowled as Qui-Gon pretended not to notice and continued anyway. His master was making it impossible for him to concentrate on this recipe. I was not under the impression that cooking was something the Order required me to learn.

I told you never to assume anything, my padawan.Qui-Gon sent back. He stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. Steam had completely fogged up the mirror due to the length of time he'd been in there. He'd only stepped out when it was apparent the hot water was about to run out. He headed into the kitchen to see what his padawan's difficulty was.

"Before you ask, this is as far as I have gotten," Obi-Wan informed his Master sullenly.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "We're signing you up for cooking classes first thing in the morning. We won't always be at the Temple padawan. You'll have to know how to cook occasionally for missions."

Obi-Wan pouted. "But Master! Cooking is for girls."

"I beg to differ. I cook and so does Master Windu."

"But classes... "He trailed off. "Maybe you could just explain this to me instead," He said as he waved the datapad in Qui-Gon's general direction.

Qui-Gon was firm. "You're taking classes. We're staying here the next few weeks anyway while the results from our last mission are sorted out, "he added scowling. "What are you having trouble with? It's a simple process really."

"It isn't! Like I know what it means to fold batter!"

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "Let me go get dressed. Get out a mixer and I'll be back in a minute to show you."

"What's a mixer?"

Qui-Gon stared at his padawan in disbelief. "You don't know what a mixer is?"

Obi-Wan shook his head negative.

"Fine. Don't touch anything. I'll be right back." He disappeared into his room to change and reappeared a few minutes later, fully dressed. He reached under a cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out the object he was looking for. "THIS is a mixer."

"Oh that explains a lot."

Qui-Gon tugged the boy's braid. "I do not need your sarcasm padawan. You DO know how to mix things don't you?"

"Of course, Master." Obi-Wan said looking indignant.

Qui-Gon smirked and looked up as the door chime rang. "Obi-Wan, get the door please. I'll start on dinner."

Obi-Wan obediently slid off the stool and found his Master's friend, Kyran Josel standing in the doorway. He bowed. "Hello Master Josel."

Kyran laughed. "No need to be so formal, Obi-Wan. Is Qui-Gon home?"

Obi-Wan jerked his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Yes. I think he's mad at me."

"Why would he be mad at you?"

Obi-Wan whispered conspiratorially, "Because he's trying to make me cook."

Kyran grinned trying hard not to laugh. "He's cooking?" He followed the padawan to the kitchen to see what his friend was up to.

Qui-Gon glanced up from where he was dicing vegetables with a large knife. "Hi."

"What are you cooking?"

"A Bothan recipe for chili and some kind of bread to go with it."

"Chili? Is there enough for three?" Kyran slid onto a kitchen stool next to Obi-Wan.

"Sure, then again this is supposed to be Obi-Wan's project."

Kyran grinned a little. "Doing his homework for him already are you?"

"No, I just don't want to eat anything he might come up with. He didn't even know what a mixer was."

"I resent that. I do now." Obi-Wan interjected sounding miffed.

"I don't suppose Qui-Gon ever mentioned his first cooking experience to you did he, Obi-Wan?" Kyran asked ignoring the murderous looks Qui-Gon was giving him.

"No...."


Twelve-year-old Qui-Gon frowned at the counter, a recipe for cookies and ingredients were strewn all over the counter. His master had gone to a meeting and he had wanted to try to bake something for a special dessert. However, he realized he should've gotten his master to at least write down what all the abbreviations stood for. The door chime rang and he went to go answer it grateful for a distraction. "Hi, "he said to his friend Kyran Josel .

Kyran followed his friend back into the kitchen. "Hi."

"Do you have any idea how to do this? I haven't got a clue what this lot's supposed to mean. Tsp? What's a tsp? And what does C stand for?"

Kyran frowned a little. "Didn't Master Dooku at least write the abbreviations down?"

"No. And what's tbsp? Is that the same thing as tsp with just a typo or something?"

"Honestly I'm surprised Master Dooku is even letting you in the kitchen without that at least. That stands for tablespoon."

Qui-Gon banged his head on the counter. "This is crazy. Why do they put so many abbreviations on the recipe anyway?"

"So you don't have to write it out the long way?" His friend offered. "That's usually the point of them."

"Shut up, Josel." Qui-Gon took the ingredients and began haphazardly mixing them up.

"You can't do that! The stuff has to be measured precisely or it won't taste right." Kyran began taking things away from him.

"Oh. Well that sounds like a lot of trouble. This is too complicated. 2 ¾ cup? Why didn't they just say "three" instead? Less complicated." He peered owlishly at the recipe. "And what's granulated sugar? How different is it from just regular?"

"Granulated sugar IS regular, sheesh." Kyran rolled his eyes as he watched Qui-Gon begin to measure the ingredients and mix them. He opened a bag of the chocolate morsels and began munching on them while he supervised.

A few minutes later Qui-Gon began spooning batter onto a durasteel cooking sheet. He stuck his finger in the bowl and tasted it looking immensely satisfied with himself. "We forgot to preheat."

"Oh well, we can set the cooker on for a higher temperature for a little while and then turn it back down later."

Qui-Gon nodded in agreement and finished spooning the last of the batter. He put the sheet in the cooker. "Now what?"

"Nine minutes and we come back and check."

"Alright. Master Dooku rented a holovid for me the other day. Let's go watch it while we wait."

"Ok."

An hour later and halfway through the holo-vid Qui-Gon frowned sniffing the air. "Do you smell something?"

"Force! The cookies!"

They both abandoned their holovid and ran to the cooker seeing smoke pouring out of the oven. Qui-Gon coughed and grabbed two oven mits while Kyran grabbed the extinguisher and quickly put the fire out. They surveyed the remnants of the cookies. "Maybe they'll still taste ok."

Kyran picked up one and sampled it. He choked and winced. "I think not."

Just then Master Dooku returned from his Council meeting. He wrinkled his nose at the scent of the air. He saw his padawan standing with a durasteel cooking sheet and the remnants of a cooking project. "Padawan?"

"I'm sorry Master, I only wanted to try to make you a dessert."

"That was very thoughtful of you, Padawan." Yan replied.

Qui-Gon beamed as his master selected one of the charred cookies.

He bit into one and then winced a little and swallowed. "Very good job, Padawan, however, next time try to take them out on time. "

"Yes Master."


Obi-Wan laughed and then grinned at his Master. "At least I didn't burn anything. Poor Master Dooku."

"Only because I never let you cook anything before now." Qui-Gon remarked. He smiled a little and lifted the lid of the pot he'd been using to check on the contents. "Dinner is served."

THE END