"You've got to be kidding me!" Obi-Wan moaned. He usually wasn't one for whining, but this was too much.
Dancing. If Jedi were allowed to hate, he would most definitely hate dancing.
Obi-Wan's silent seething over the announcement that there would be a dancing competition- for the Jedi! - was interrupted by a sharp wrap on his shin from a rather familiar stick, causing Obi-Wan to jump in surprise and a bit of pain.
"Deal with it, you will. Low on funds, Jedi are. Requirement for every Jedi, this is. Not whining babies, Jedi are," Yoda said, staring Obi-Wan in the eye. He quickly regained his almost-apathetic calmness and bowed stiffly.
"If I must," Obi-Wan said.
"Yes. You must. Over, this meeting is. May the Force be with you all." Rustling of somewhat-scratchy robes and murmured "May the Force be with you"s filled the room as the Jedi filed out. Obi-Wan lingered by the door way and caught a very suspicious-looking padawan by the robe.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan hissed through his teeth. Anakin looked up at his Master in what was obviously false innocence.
"Yes, Master?"
"You did this, didn't you?"
Anakin gulped. "Well, I suggested it, if that's what you-"
"Yes, that's what I mean!" snapped Obi-Wan, surprising both himself and his padawan. Obi-Wan counted to ten in his head and took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, Anakin. But you know how much I dislike dancing."
"It's fine, Master. I was only joking when I said it; I never meant for Master Yoda to actually take me seriously," Anakin confessed. Obi-Wan sighed and let go of his robe.
"Alright. I'll meet you in the eating area later. I have some business to attend to." Like learning how to dance.
"Alright. And Master? I've heard Senator Amidala can do a mean tango," Anakin hinted, winking, before he left the conference room and a rather red Jedi Master.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had never been great at dancing. In fact, when he was a youngling, he found himself tripping over his two left feet each time he tried. Of course, being a Jedi gave him a little more balance, but he still embarrassed himself terribly whenever he decided to take the time to try. Which wasn't very often. In fact, the last time he'd tried was when Senator Amidala had first arrived at Coruscant.
He had always had a thing for Padmé. Ever since he was just a padawan himself, and she a young Queen. As soon as he'd laid eyes on her, he was hooked. Watching her return to Naboo for so long had broken him, endangering his upcoming Knighthood. Since then he'd sworn off of romantic relationships and buried himself in the Jedi Order and his books.
But then she returned. Older, wiser, and admittedly prettier. He didn't talk to her at first at the welcoming dance, but from his casual glances across the room, he could tell from the riveted faces of the other senators gathered around her she'd also grown great in wit. He quickly gave up the internal struggle raging inside him since he'd heard she'd be coming back upon seeing her and let his past feelings for her rush over him.
Trying to seem impressive, Obi-Wan had stepped out onto the dance floor, trying very hard to stop the nervous shaking of his body, and, right in front of Padmé, started to dance.
I needn't go into the details. Let's just say, Padmé was the only senator not laughing at him. After that, Obi-Wan fled to his and Anakin's chambers and hid in his room for a week. He vowed never to dance again.
But, of course, that was thwarted by this new requirement. The Jedi were running low on funds, and rumor of a fundraiser washed over the temple. Fate, or Force, deemed it proper that Obi-Wan embarrass himself again, and this time a spotlight would be entirely focused on him.
Obi-Wan tried to relax in his chair in his personal chamber, tried to lose himself in a rivetingly dull mission report, but the thought of dancing again just wouldn't go away, and he found himself blushing crimson and wiping nervous sweat from his brow every couple of minutes.
Frustrated, Obi-Wan gave up reading and rested his head on his desk in resignation. Suddenly, a blue light illuminated the Jedi's room and a very surprised Obi-Wan jolted at the sound of his deceased Master's voice.
"It's not like you to let something bother you like this," Qui-Gon said solemnly. Obi-Wan just stared at the apparition, jaw going slack.
Qui-Gon chuckled. "Ah, yes. This is my first visit to you, isn't it? You're not going insane, Padawan. I told you I was one with the Force."
"Wha- Bu- How?!" was all Obi-Wan could utter.
"We'll get to that later. For now, you need to focus on your dancing skills. And most likely your flirting skills, too." Qui-Gon allowed himself a smirk at Obi-Wan's freshly-red face. "Anakin told me about Padmé. I'm shocked, Padawan. I never would've thought you one to fall in love with a senator."
"Uh- I- Wait a second. You talked to Anakin before me?"
"Maybe. Stop getting off track. What I came here to say was you should use this as an opportunity to get to know Padmé better," Qui-Gon said, using his favorite glare.
But Obi-Wan was adamant. "I'm not letting her see me like that again. I may be commanded by Yoda to dance, but there's a small chance she won't be there to watch it, and I'm not going to be the one to invite her," he argued. Qui-Gon's smirk held up as he touched Obi-Wan's arm, and suddenly they were in a tastefully decorated room with tapestries of Naboo hung on the walls, soft-looking, sky-blue furniture, and two humans sitting on said furniture who Obi-Wan quickly recognized as Anakin and Padmé.
"Is this-?"
"Shh!" Qui-Gon interrupted. Obi-Wan lowered his voice and whispered,
"Can they hear us?"
Qui-Gon looked at his old padawan with an amused smile on his face. "No, but you might want to hear what they're saying."
Obi-Wan obediently turned his attention to the two on the couch.
"…pleasant surprise," Padmé said, smiling at Anakin. Obi-Wan felt a rare surge of jealousy run through him at the simple gesture.
"Yes, well, I was just wondering if you'd like to come see the fundraiser? It's a dancing competition between the Jedi. You can even partner with a non-Jedi, and I know how much you like dancing-"
Anakin was cut off by a soft finger placed on his lips. "I'm sorry, Ani, but you know I don't like you like that…" Padmé's voice trailed off, casting her gaze down at the floor as her soft cheeks turned a tender red. Anakin's face did the same as he stammered,
"No, no, not like that. I mean, I like you Padmé, but as a sister, not- Oh, forget it. I wanted you to pair with my Master and teach him how to dance."
"Obi-Wan?" Padmé's shocked look put a dent in Obi-Wan's heart and self-confidence.
"I've had enough of this," Obi-Wan tried to say, before he was shushed by Qui-Gon yet again.
"Patience, Padawan. Just listen." Obi-Wan harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest, something he hadn't done in a long time. It took all his Jedi resolve not to burst out of that blasted room, be he in a vision or not.
"…would love to!" drifted past Obi-Wan's ears. They perked up, as did his mood, as he strained to listen to the rest of Padmé's statement.
"Are you sure he'd be okay with it, though?" Padmé asked, looking worried. About being rejected by me, Obi-Wan thought with surprise.
Anakin smirked. "I'm absolutely sure. In fact, he's had quite the crush on you for the longest time."
"Really?" Obi-Wan loved how Padmé's beautiful brown eyes lit up when she heard that. So much he didn't mind Anakin telling her. Yet.
Anakin nodded, his smirk turning into a gentle smile. "Really. Now, I must go, so if you don't mind…" He turned toward the door. Qui-Gon's ghostly hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder was all that kept him from panicking and ducking behind the plant next to him and his old Master. Padmé's ecstatic face as she was telling one of her handmaidens what had happened was the last thing he saw before her apartment faded into his comparatively-dismal-looking chambers. Obi-Wan slumped into his chair, floating somewhere between total happiness, confusion, denial, and a spark of anger and embarrassment. The happiness, however, blinded the other emotions out of existence.
"So I guess this means I'm going to have to learn how to dance," Obi-Wan murmured, a grin cracking on his face.
"From Senator Amidala."
Somehow, those extra three words made everything worthwhile.