Title: A Spoonful of Waffles
Author: Jinngerbread
Characters: Qui-Gon, Dooku
Summary: A little breakfast in bed makes Dooku a bit flustered.
Author's Notes: This is for the Monday Mush Mania challenge of non-romantic mush on another fanfiction forum. Many thanks to PersephoneKore for her assistance in prodding my Dooku muse.
It was rare that Tavis Dooku would be the type to sleep later in the mornings. Most mornings, he was up with the sun going about his early morning routine, meditating, exercising, and having breakfast with his apprentice, before attending to the scheduled events for the day.
This morning, however, he was still asleep. Still asleep, but he knew he had to get up eventually, even if he was still sore and tired. He couldn't lie in bed all day, even if he were on light duty. Light duty did not mean an all day nap.
A light knock came at the door, but he didn't get up to answer it, yet. There was a few moments pause, before the knock came again.
Dooku finally moved out from under his pillows to sit up. Qui-Gon needed something, likely. He sat up slowly, wincing as his tender side twisted slightly with the motion as he did so. The pain was a gift. It let his body know where it had been injured. He directed healing energies towards his injury and the pain lessened.
The knock came again, more insistently. "Master?"
"Come in, Qui-Gon," Dooku said and barely a heartbeat later, Qui-Gon entered. The fourteen-year-old teenager was balancing a rather large looking tray in his hands. "What's this?" he asked, glancing at the boy.
"Breakfast," his apprentice answered helpfully, putting his burden on the dresser.
Dooku's brow furrowed as he sat up a little more carefully. "Breakfast?"
"Of course, Master," the boy chirped, coming over to Dooku. He took his pillows and began to fluff them, and then piled them on top of each other.
Dooku blinked at his apprentice for a moment, "In bed?"
"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon said, nodding.
Dooku leaned back against the pillows, shifting them slightly to get a better position. Moments later, Qui-Gon put his tray he had been carrying across his lap. "Breakfast," his apprentice said with a smile.
Dooku examined the tray. On the tray was a disgustingly cheery array of waffles stacked neatly off to one side, a lump of what appeared to be rapidly melting butter arranged in the form of a smiley face, with a sprig of herb for the nose.
He picked up the herb and sniffed delicately. Ahh. Floramint. A most refreshing choice, he admitted inwardly.
A small jar of syrup was artfully arranged next to the waffle stack and he picked up the jar. Julaberry syrup, he discovered. A small plate of toast and tradalon bacon were to the right of the waffles and syrup. As he examined further, he noted there was also a glass of orange juice, an herbal tea, and milk. Also included, for whatever reason, was an orange and red Corellian Firethorn in fake crystalline vase.
"Why did you fix me breakfast?" he asked. It unnerved him, really, that Qui-Gon had gone to this much trouble for him. True he was on light duty, but that hardly meant that he could not get out of bed and make his own food.
Qui-Gon glanced up at him, a bit of surprise in his young face. "I wanted to be helpful," he said uncertainly. "You were injured rather badly, Master. I was going to take care of you while you're recovering."
"I was," Dooku agreed. "But I'm not as injured now," he pointed out. He was even more flustered that Qui-Gon thought he needed looking after. He didn't need such things; he was the one who should be looking after the boy, not the other way around. He was injured yes, but not an invalid. He was neglecting his duty as a Master by not feeding the child. "Here," he said, handing the boy a plate of toast and a waffle, and a strip of the bacon.
His apprentice looked bewildered. "But these are for you," he protested.
"Yes, but aren't you hungry?" Dooku asked frowning, slightly, glancing up from where he'd been spreading some of the melted butter over his own waffle.
"Oh!" Qui-Gon put down the plate and rearranged it back the way it was. Dooku's frown deepened watching as Qui-Gon dusted off the crumbs on his hands and then got up from the bed and left the room. Moments later he was back, carrying a plate in his hands. His face was slightly sheepish as he said, "I didn't have room for mine on the tray."
The Jedi Master nodded finally, beginning to eat his own again. At least the boy wasn't neglecting himself while trying to take care of him in this endeavor. He noted that boy's plate was arranged much less artfully than his own, though. "You seem to have given less attention to your own presentation," he said, before taking another bite of the waffle.
His apprentice shrugged slightly. "I was more interested in eating it than looking at it."
"Why did you fix mine then?" Dooku asked, having finally finished his waffles and now moving on to the toast. He picked up a triangle section and began to nibble the corner end off.
"Because I wanted it to look nice," he explained.
Dooku glanced up from his toast. "You didn't have to go to the trouble to do that just to give it to me."
"I know I didn't, Master," he said, sighing softly. "I wish you would stop saying that. I wanted to help you. Why is it so hard to accept my help? Is it so hard to believe that I just want to do something nice for you?"
Dooku put down the bit of toast he'd been holding. "Qui-Gon," he said after a long silence. He wasn't quite sure how to tell the boy. He didn't like being seen as neglectful of his duty, or weaker than he really was. He hated being vulnerable more than he hated anything else, and to let someone else see him when he was down, well, it wasn't easy for him to accept it. "It's just not easy for me to accept." He finally said. "It has been ingrained into my very core, that I do not show weakness. Accepting that sometimes I need help gives me difficulty."
Qui-Gon was quite contemplating it for several minutes before he said, "But you can't always be strong, Master. Everyone needs help sometimes."
"I know, Qui-Gon," he said softly, glancing down at the half-eaten plate of food on his tray. "It is just difficult to accept."
His apprentice nodded as he put his now empty plate on the tray next to Dooku's food. "I understand, Master. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." He looked away. "I'm sorry this was a bad idea," he said, fiddling with his padawan braid. "I won't do it again."
"No," Dooku interjected, cutting him off before he could continue the line of thought. "Padawan, look at me," he wanted the boy's full attention.
Qui-Gon looked up and met his eyes.
"Merely because I find something difficult, does not mean that it is a poor thing," he gave a small smile. "And it is a lesson I need to learn to accept help."
Qui-Gon looked unconvinced. "But you didn't want to learn it."
"There are always those lessons in life that we must put our own barriers and failures aside to pick up what the Force wishes us to know," Dooku said firmly.
"And the Force wished you to know this?" Qui-Gon asked, his brow furrowing.
"Yes," Dooku said, reaching for the boy's braid and gently tugging on it. "It wished for me to be taught this lesson through you." He smiled a bit more. "But I'm afraid you'll have to teach me this lesson many times for it to sink in." There was an even longer pause, before he said, "and when the padawan teaches the Master, the pairing is right."
Qui-Gon smiled shyly at that, unsure of what to say really to that. "I am glad that I could teach you, something, Master."
"You will teach me many things, Qui-Gon," Dooku assured him, picking up the piece of toast again. "Of that I have no doubt."
He finished the toast and then picked up the glass of orange juice. "Whatever possessed you to put three drinks on my tray when you didn't drink any?" he asked after a minute.
Qui-Gon blushed sheepishly. "I didn't know which you would want, so I decided to bring all three."
Dooku chuckled slightly. "So I see," he said after a moment.
He nibbled in silence for a few minutes before Qui-Gon spoke up again, "So does this mean I should bring you breakfast in bed more often?" he asked cheekily.
His master laughed ruefully, "I could get used to it perhaps if I had no choice," he smirked, before he finished it and reached for the glass of orange juice.
Qui-Gon grinned a little at that. "I could too, Master," he piped up.
"Brat," Dooku said affectionately, finishing the drink and now picking up the tea.
"Always, Master," Qui-Gon chirped. "Always."