A/N: Inspired by a "Behind the Force" video on YouTube (/watch?v=Yg_oS49iCMQ), with the first half of the fic's dialogue largely lifted from it. As always, any and all reader feedback is highly welcome!
Diplomacy is an art – improvement comes only through continual practice.
EARLY in the conflict, the Jedi knights struck an alliance with the vile gangsters of the Hutt criminal empire in order to secure an advantage against the evil Separatist forces. To maintain this treaty, the Jedi Council dispatches Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano to the distant planet Tatooine for an audience with the powerful gangster Jabba the Hutt. Now, on the homely windswept road that winds to the ironclad citadel of the loathsome criminal, the two Jedi make their way to an uncertain appointment …
The hot Tatooine winds whipped at Obi-Wan's face and robes, blowing yet more sand into his eyes and clothes as they continued their sweaty trek to Jabba's palace.
Ah yes, there went some more into his boots. Lovely.
Next to him, Ahsoka let out a gusty sigh. Obi-Wan sympathized.
"I haven't been to Tatooine since Master Skywalker and I rescued Stinky," she said.
"Eh – I beg your pardon?"
"Stinky," she repeated, as though he ought to know what she was talking about. At his look of non-comprehension, she added, "That's what Anakin called Jabba's son, Rotta. – I got the impression Anakin isn't very fond of the Hutts."
Mmm, not as such, no.
"Yes, well, perhaps that's why he opted out of this mission," said Obi-Wan.
It wasn't his place to disclose Anakin's past to his Padawan, even if he did think she ought to know.
"Maybe," Ahsoka said skeptically. "But he usually prefers taking action over… bookkeeping."
Surely he had misheard. The wind was rather loud.
"…Sorry, but – bookkeeping?"
"Yeah. Instead of coming with us, he's stuck reviewing stats and intelligence reports with Senator Amidala."
She shuddered, presumably at the thought of being stuck with that much paperwork.
Oh, for the innocence of youth…
"With Padme?" he said aloud. "Really?"
That would explain a few things…
"Yes, from the sounds of it they're going to have to spend the whole week together, working side-by-side, to make any progress."
For Force's sake, Anakin…
Obi-Wan briefly closed his eyes, thankful for the hood which hid his expression.
"Curious," he said, after he had regained control over his reaction. "Tell me, Ahsoka, does Anakin take on a lot of these… 'missions'… with Padme?"
"Oh, uh, not really," said Ahsoka with a nervous laugh. "I… I'd say he visits the Supreme Chancellor more than Senator Amidala, but…" she trailed off, seemingly remembering Obi-Wan's feelings towards the Chancellor, then added, "…but who's counting, right?"
Better and better.
Obi-Wan felt his lips thin.
"I'm counting," he muttered, voice dry and dire. I swear, Anakin, one of these days… Catching Ahsoka's curious look, he hurriedly said, "But let's try to focus on the mission at hand, shall we? I hope you've been practicing your Huttese."
"We're about to find out," Ahsoka said, gesturing ahead with a jerk of her head.
They had reached the outer sandstone gates of Jabba's citadel. The metal gate door, wind-weathered but sturdy, stretched high and wide, dwarfing the two Jedi who stood before it. Some might have found the sight intimidating - in fact, Obi-Wan rather suspected that such had been Jabba's intention - but he and Ahsoka had seen far worse over the years.
"By all means, be my guest," said Obi-Wan.
Ahsoka rolled her eyes but stepped forward.
"I guess we knock," she said, and did just that. The heavy thunking sound that resulted was oddly hollow, reverberating along the thick metal door.
I am curious to see how Jabba receives us when not given any prior notice … hopefully Ahsoka's Huttese will be up to the task.
Some time, words, and a perhaps less than judicious application of Force persuasion later, and they were deep within the Palace.
Standing by the door to Jabba's throne room, Obi-Wan could see that the room was large, dimly lit, and teeming with a variety of different lifeforms - most of them tourists, lowlifes, and slaves.
"This place hasn't improved with time," said Ahsoka, scrunching up her nose in disgust as she glanced through the doorway.
"Remember, diplomacy is the word of the day. We are guests here," Obi-Wan said reprovingly.
Not that he disagreed with her assessment. On the contrary.
"I know, I know," Ahsoka groaned. "Any last minute advice?"
"Yes. No deep breaths in there."
"You don't need to remind me. I could never get that smell of Stinky out of my backpack."
Obi-Wan's lips twitched in amusement.
Together, they stepped through into the throne room. If possible, it was even noisier in here than it had been just a few steps back. Cheers and jeers filled the air as drinks were sloshed and games of chance won and lost. The room smelled heavily of incense and alcohol – and of Hutt, that particular mixture of sweat and iron and rotten eggs, overlaid with a scent that was altogether unique to their species.
Charming.
The Jawa standing next to them in the packed room slowly slipped its hand up towards the lightsaber clipped to Ahsoka's belt.
Surely Ahsoka's senses were attuned enough that she would notice shortly.
His faith was not misplaced. Her eyes soon narrowed with realization and she snapped,
"Hey, hands off my lightsaber, brighteyes, or I'll teach you some manners!"
The Jawa immediately leapt back, hands held up placatingly, before speeding off.
"Ughh," Ahsoka muttered. "Can't take my hand off of this thing for a minute without someone trying to steal it."
Now that sounded like there was a story behind it.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask –
"Ah. A new acquisition. You must be the property our master is expecting."
The speaker approaching them was a humanoid protocol droid, silver and well-polished – a Cybot Galactica model, Obi-Wan suspected, and unless he missed his guess, it was a 3PO unit.
"The Mighty Jabba has been looking for ages for a new dancer ever since our last one… required replacement," the droid said. It moved closer, head swiveling back and forth between the two Jedi. "You are a fit specimen. Please report to the tailor droid for a fitting of your dancing outfit."
Ahsoka had her lightsaber in hand and ignited practically before the droid had finished speaking, stance battle-ready.
So like her master, Obi-Wan thought with an inner sigh.
"Back off, switchhead," she said belligerently. "I'm no dancer. I'm here on official business."
The droid blinked its photoreceptors, seemingly offended.
"I was referring," it said prissily, "to the far better toned, graceful-looking creature next to you."
Who…?
Ahsoka started to giggle.
Oh.
Oh dear.
"Graceful?" Obi-Wan murmured, half to himself, as Ahsoka powered down her blade.
That was… oddly flattering. And concerning.
"Oh, Anakin's really gonna wish he came on this mission," Ahsoka said between snorts of laughter. She bowed slightly at the waist, flourishing a hand. "After you, Your Grace."
'Concerning' was right.
"…I have a bad feeling about this…"
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan followed the protocol droid to a backroom strewn with gauzy, glittering costumes. Ahsoka's eyes positively gleamed upon seeing the outfits – even her montrals seemed to twitch with mirth.
Obi-Wan would have happily spared himself the indignity of such a scene and used mind tricks to gain them an audience with Jabba, save for the fact that – likely for this very reason – the Hutt only used droids as servants in his inner circle. And if they revealed their true identities, Jabba would make them wait hours for an audience in a power play.
Which meant, unfortunately, that this was probably the fastest least violent means for them to gain admission.
Wonderful.
"SE-34-T, this is the new performer for the Mighty Jabba," the protocol droid informed the service droid docked at one corner of the room. "Please clothe them appropriately for the Mighty Jabba's pleasure."
The service droid let out a series of beeps and rolled over. Extending a mechanical limb, it proceeded to measure him – or at least that was what Obi-Wan thought it was doing; it was difficult to tell with droids, sometimes.
"I beg your pardon!"
He jerked away from the droid's roving arm, hoping fervently that the heat he felt in his cheeks was not visible.
The droid beeped back at him, tone snippier than was usual for its model series.
"Well excuse me," he replied, still keeping his distance, "but we humans consider it poor manners to touch that region of the body without permission."
Ahsoka, face buried in her hands, shook with silent laughter.
"I'm glad you find my situation so amusing, young Padawan," he said. "I shall be sure to remember this the next time you are molested by a droid."
"Sorry, Master Kenobi," she said, shoulders still shaking, "but you should have seen your face."
Yes, well…
Obi-Wan silently acknowledged that this was probably a lot funnier if you were an observer rather than a participant.
The droid let out a stream of irritated beeps and wheeled over to a rack of costumes, snatching up a few pieces, and tossed them at him.
He instinctively caught them with one hand. Then he actually looked at them.
Force, no.
Even without putting it on, he could tell that the costume was horrendously skimpy. In his hands sat a semi-sheer pair of iridescent teal trousers and a pair of slippers with bells sewn onto the laces. There was no shirt.
How uncivilized.
He had a feeling his attempt not to visibly grimace was wholly unsuccessful.
Another series of beeps, this time more demanding. Ahsoka began to giggle again.
The things I do for diplomacy…
"Yes, yes, fine, I'll put it on. Turn around, please, Ahsoka."
She whirled around to face a wall with gratifying speed and he reluctantly began to disrobe.
The trousers, once on, clung… and sat perilously low on his hips.
"Are you quite sure you gave me the right size?" he asked the droid, a bit of desperation leaking into his voice.
The droid gave a rather offended beep.
No, he couldn't be that lucky.
"Can I turn around now, Master?"
Never.
The last thing he wanted was for any living being to see him in this… this… getup.
But –
Master Yoda's voice rang in his ears: 'Vanity, ego – these things do not a Jedi become.'
He sighed. "…you may."
She whipped back around. Upon seeing him, her eyes widened and her cheeks darkened – no doubt from holding back laughter.
"Um… that color r-really suits you, Master," she said. "Brings out… brings out your eyes."
"Thank you," said Obi-Wan tartly, deeply uncomfortable. It felt as though he wasn't wearing anything at all. Never before had he so fully appreciated the cover offered by his many layers of customary clothing.
He turned to the service droid and said, "May I inquire as to when we will be brought before the, er, Mighty Jabba?"
It let out several beeps and a long, piercing whistle. The 3PO droid from before scurried back into the room.
"Oh good," it said. "The Mighty Jabba is in a foul mood. Doubtless this will be just the thing to cheer him up. As always, SE-34-T, you have worked wonders."
The service droid seemed to perk up under these words of praise.
"Please follow me," the protocol droid said, now addressing the two Jedi, "and I will take you to the Mighty Jabba, May His Name Be Praised."
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka exchanged glances.
With as much dignity as one could muster whilst thus attired, Obi-Wan said, "You are too kind. Do lead on. My compatriot and I shall be right behind you, I assure you."
"You'd better believe it," muttered Ahsoka, eyes fixed on him. "Right behind you."
"Your master is very fortunate to have so… dedicated… a worker as yourself," Obi-Wan said carefully, as they followed the droid through the twisting passageways. "It is clear that you have an excellent eye for detail."
"I merely operate according to my programming parameters," the droid said, but Obi-Wan thought it sounded a bit flattered.
The blasted bells on his slippers jingled with every step he took, loudly proclaiming his presence to anyone with ears.
"I hope you are as skilled a dancer as your physique suggests," the droid added. "I would hate to see us lose such a promising specimen."
Ahsoka had stuffed a corner of her robe in her mouth to smother her giggles, Obi-Wan noticed sourly.
It was all he could do to maintain an appearance of confidence in this ridiculous costume. The only good thing that could be said for it was that at least it was cool. He glanced longingly towards Ahsoka's backpack, where his belongings were stored.
Patience, he counseled himself. Not yet, but soon.
He was a Jedi; he could manage a bit longer.
With any luck, he'd be able to throw his robe on over this… this outfit… before the Illustrious and Mighty Jabba noticed him.
(He rather doubted it, though. Luck did not appear to be with him today – not if prior events were any indicator.)
He sent a thread of a thought through the secondhand Force bond that he and Ahsoka shared: Be ready to hand me my robe and lightsaber when I give the signal.
Ahsoka nodded.
"Mmm, that sounds very… interesting," Obi-Wan said aloud to the droid, which had continued to monologue about its job. "You must get to meet a great many types of important beings."
"Yes," said the droid, chest puffed outwards with pride. "Just last week, we hosted the eminent Senator Lott Dod."
Interesting.
"Really?" Obi-Wan kept his expression neutral as he spoke. "That is impressive."
Ahsoka looked as though she had just smelled something particularly nasty.
Anakin really needs to work with her on controlling her reactions. Not that that's ever been one of his strong points either, mind you…
Rather than elaborate as Obi-Wan had hoped it would, the droid proceeded to list other notable guests – including, to his private amusement, a Jedi Master Kenobi.
Ahsoka hurriedly stuffed her sleeve back in her mouth upon hearing this, but he could sense her laughter through the Force.
"Did you, um, meet this Jedi?" Ahsoka asked, once she had managed to regain some semblance of composure. "You see, I've always been fascinated by them."
Her eyes were innocently wide, but the twitch at the corner of her mouth gave her away.
"I am afraid it was my predecessor who had that honor," the droid said. "I was only promoted to my current position after this year's Festivals of Tatoo."
Obi-Wan shrugged slightly at Ahsoka's questioning look. Anakin had mentioned the Festivals a few times over the years, but never when they took place.
"Ah," said the droid, suddenly coming to a halt. "Please wait here while I announce you to the Great and Mighty Jabba."
Obi-Wan bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you for so capably guiding us."
"Aren't you a polite one! I do hope Jabba keeps you for a while."
It opened the passageway door and stepped through.
Now, he thought to Ahsoka.
With a moue of mock disappointment, she rapidly opened her pack and shoved his robes and lightsaber at him.
First he took the lightsaber – better to be armed and dressed ridiculously than the opposite, after all – then, when the droid didn't appear, pulled his robes about him. There was not, unfortunately, enough time for him to don his tunic, trousers, or boots, but all in all this was a vast improvement upon the situation.
The door re-opened.
"The Mighty Jabba will see you now," said the droid, before noticing Obi-Wan's change of clothes. "Wait a minute, that's not –"
He and Ahsoka ignored its sputterings and swept past it into the throne room.
A Jedi's work is never done…
Coruscant's twinkling lights and flashing signs cut a swath through the dark night sky, mere pinpricks of light from a distance, but increasingly larger as the ship descended from hyperspace and gradually made its way into the Federal District.
Obi-Wan sighed in relief as the Temple's familiar spires came into view.
Home at last.
Jabba had proved as frustrating to negotiate with as ever, particularly in light of having been tricked into an audience.
Still, it was over; their objective achieved.
And he was finally out of those blasted trousers and jingling slippers. Said items had been discarded in a pile in the ship's fresher the instant they were safely in the air. Thank the Force Ahsoka's backpack had been large enough to accommodate all of his belongings, because given the choice between entering the Temple barefoot and clad in robes alone or in… those… he could not honestly say which he would have chosen.
"Skyguy's gonna be so jealous when I tell him what he missed while he was stuck with bookkeeping," said Ahsoka, smirking.
That… could not be allowed to pass. Obi-Wan shuddered mentally. Anakin would never let this go.
"I do not think that is a path you wish to take, young one."
"Oh, I really think it is," Ahsoka said, reaching into her backpack. "And I can't wait to see his expression when he sees this."
'This', it transpired, was his costume in all its gaudy, gauzy glory, dangling from her fingertips.
Shaavit.
He should have known better than to leave it hanging around in the open.
Fortunately, he still had a few cards up his sleeve.
"The future has many paths, Ahsoka," he said, "so choose wisely. If you decide to pursue this particular route, a choice tale or two may slip from my lips to Master Unduli… while her Padawan is in earshot. Perhaps the incident on Belsavis…?"
An expression of pure horror crossed her face.
"You wouldn't."
Face blandly innocent, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"
Ahsoka let her breath out in a huff.
"Fine, you win. I won't tell Anakin. – You're a sneaky son of a Gundark, you know that, Master Obi-Wan?"
Her tone was reluctantly admiring.
Obi-Wan allowed himself to smirk as he brought the ship into the hangar.
"Yes, well, that is why they call me the Negotiator."