Title: 'By the pricking of my thumbs...'
Author: PrincessArulmozhi
Timeframe: JA. Obi-Wan's 19.
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn
Genre: Hmm. Humour? Mush? A bit of both, I think.
Summary: Obi-Wan learns...to sew. Among other things. Mostly other things.
Notes: Technically, this was my first fic - and as I've never read any of the JA/JQ/whatever books, I apologize for blunder(s) committed.
Disclaimer: I make no money out of this, and the characters belong to George Lucas.
Note 2: ' - ' Indicates conversation via bond.

BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS...

Part 1

"Argh."

Obi-Wan Kenobi dropped the needle and sucked his finger, on which a bright red spot of blood had promptly appeared. "Oh, blast."

-Padawan? Is something wrong?-

And double blast. He had forgotten to raise his shields. But what was his master doing, eavesdropping on his mind?

-No, master. Nothing is the matter.-

-The truth, Obi-Wan.-

-When have I ever lied to you?-

-50, 678 times.-

Obi-wan blinked. -You actually kept count?-

-Don't change the subject, Padawan mine. And the truth - what have you done now?-

-Aside from pricking myself with this sith-blasted needle for about the thousandth time, nothing else, Master.-

A mental sigh, though flecked with amusement. -Language, Obi-Wan, language.-

-I do try, master. But it's hard to, with this new-fangled assignment you've seen fit to torture me with.-

-Ah. Ingenuity is my middle name, young one.-

Obi-Wan snorted. -I could think of better names, revered Master mine.-

-I'm well aware of your proficiency with nicknames. Never try that with me, though.-

Obi-Wan knelt down to pick up the errant needle from the floor, and ended up meshing it further into the carpeting. Stifling a curse, he pressed his finger firmly on it, and succeeded in bringing it up, firmly stuck to his finger. -Considering the leisurely way in which you're taking this conversation, Master...I gather the seminar isn't going well.-

-On the contrary, Padawan, it is going exceedingly well.-

-Ah.-

There was a brief pause, during which Obi-Wan re-doubled his efforts to thread the needle. A smile apeared on his face as he waited.

-As a matter of fact...-His Master's mental voice trailed away.

-Yes, Master-

-I have a sore back, the Twi'lek to my left is snoring, and the speaker is an enthusiastic Corellian who insists on his audience receiving a bath.-

Ob-Wan's smile grew. -A bath-

-Each word is a watery assault. And I'm seated in the front row.-

Obi-Wan raised his eyes in mock anguish. -My poor Master. Though I must admit you deserve this.-

-Insolent wretch.-

-If you will insist on being one of the best swordsmen in the Galaxy, Master - together with being one of the most dignified members of the Most Enlightened Order of Force-Sensitive Beings...a lecture on 'The intricacies of Sebullian Funeral Customs' isn't something you can escape.-

-Such impudence, Padawan. Remind me to set you on kitchen duty the rest of this month.-

-Thank the Force. We'll have Non-Charcoal toast the whole month.-

-And cleaning the refresher tanks for the next six weeks.-

A pause. -Pardon me, Master. No unsavoury word regarding your accomplishments will ever pass my lips again.-

-Why am I not particularly glad at that statement?-

-You possess an unnaturally suspicious nature, Master. As well as one that exults in torture. I've pricked my finger again.-

-Which merely indicates that you're not doing it right. Take the thread and...ease it into the needle's eye. I did, after all, demonstrate it to you.-

Squinting, Obi-Wan brought the thread slowly to the needle, poked it in...to see it appear on the other side - apparently without having passed through the eye at all. He sighed.

-Careful padawan. There's a storm rising.-

-I was sighing, Master.-

-Indeed. For a moment I imagined myself on Tyrne IV, known for its typhoons.-

-I would much rather be on Tyrne IV, typhoon or not.-

-Patience, young one. Remember why I gave this assignment to you, in the first place.-

Obi-Wan raised tortured eyes to the ceiling. -To drive me out of my mind, once and for all?-

-A praiseworthy object, though not stricly accurate. Try again.-

The Padawan sent his thoughts to a week in the past.

They had been sparring...

To be continued...