Obi-wan woke to shrill screaming and a CRACK to the back of his skull from a Force-propelled mug. He jerked awake, one hand scrabbling for his saber, while the other snatched a pillow to use as a flimsy shield. The mug rolled off the bed and landed on the floor with a clang. Maul, still tied to the chair across the room, was shouting.
"WHERE ARE MY LEGS, SCUM?!"
Obi-wan heaved a sigh. "You just noticed?"
"I asked you a question, Kenobi, now ANSWER IT!"
"Calm down, you idiot. Did you really think your bug-legs- or whatever you called them- would've fit in my tiny ship?"
Maul hissed. "You should've left me there, then. I want my legs back. Now."
Obi-wan shook his head. "And why would I do that? You're dangerous enough already without them. Besides, where am I going to get six robotic legs to stick into your short little torso?" He rubbed the back of his head ruefully. That mug hurt. Bastard's got better aim than I thought he would.
Maul snarled something (probably offensive) under his breath and went silent.
Obi-wan snorted. "I take it you'd like to eat now?" Although I may not have enough food for us both come lunchtime.
Maul did not deign to answer and instead looked out the grimy window set into the thick adobe walls.
I really shouldn't have expected an answer from the prick. Obi-wan went through his bag, pulling out a few rations bars and two bright oranges. He unwrapped one of the rations bars and dropped it in front of Maul.
"Despite your less-than polite wake up call, I'm going to let you feed yourself again." Obi-wan felt the Force fluctuate angrily as Maul took offense. Instead of responding, though, he remained sullenly silent. Obi-wan untied one of his hands and the Zabrak snatched up the rations bar, tearing into it with an animalistic snarl. Kenobi sighed and began to peel an orange. I don't think I'll have a rations bar this morning. It'd be too heavy...an orange will do.
Obi-wan continued peeling the orange, then set about tugging it apart. He bit into one of the sweet slices with satisfaction. Mmm. Oranges are the best.
After a while, Obi-wan noticed that Maul was staring at him with a strange expression. Obi-wan licked his sticky fingers, gesturing to the other orange sitting on the table. "Would you like that one?"
Maul frowned. "It's wasteful not to eat the skin of that...fruit."
Obi-wan shrugged. "The skins are bitter." He probably hasn't eaten them before. He flicked a fragment of orange peel across the table to Maul. "Eat them if you want." Obi-wan grabbed the other orange and began to strip off its skin.
Maul watched him with glittering yellow eyes, and to Obi-wan's belated surprise, picked the orange rind off the table and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.
"It's soft," he announced quietly, as if having discovered something monumental, "and not at all bitter. I suppose that's because weaklings like you Jedi have soft taste buds."
Obi-wan snorted and shoved the rest of the pile of peels towards Maul.
Maul continued eating them, more delicately than Obi-wan expected, considering his previous savagery concerning food.
"You'll make yourself sick," cautioned Obi-wan. I don't want to clean vomit from the inside of my ship.
The Zabrak ignored him, so Obi-wan fell quiet. He finished peeling the orange and began to separate it into many smaller slices. Then he Force-pushed them towards Maul.
"These will taste better."
Maul raised an eyebrow at him, mouth full of orange skins. He swallowed. "Hmph." And he continued munching on the orange peels.
Rolling his eyes, Obi-wan stood and began to pack up his meager belongings. If he doesn't eat those by the time I'm done with this, I'll eat them myself.
It took very few minutes to pack up, and when he was done, Obi-wan dusted himself off. He looked over at Maul.
Maul's eyes were glazed over. He was clutching an orange slice in one hand while he chewed slowly. He looks like he's in shock. ...Guess he likes them?
After a few moments of staring over Obi-wan's shoulder, Maul twitched back to attention, sunburst eyes focusing, his gaze becoming piercing once more.
"Well?" Obi-wan inquired dryly.
"The fruit is…" Maul pulled a face. "Excruciatingly sweet. And it...stings." Even so, Maul popped another slice into his mouth.
"So you like it, then."
"I did not say that, Kenobi." Maul was growling slightly.
Obi-wan raised an eyebrow. "Sure you didn't," he murmured under his breath. The Zabrak stiffened slightly.
"Well, then," Obi-wan intentionally ignored the ire that was pouring his way (courtesy of Maul), "we're leaving. I'm going to carry you, and you're not going to cause trouble."
Maul bared his yellowing teeth. "We'll see about that, Jedi."
On second thought, I think I'd rather knock you out.
After a brief scuffle, Obi-wan picked up Maul's prone form. Damn, he thought, staring at the remnants of the chair that littered the room, Maul's far more flexible than I imagined.
Maul twitched in his arms. His breath smelled awful: a mix of oranges with an undertone of something rotten. Obi-wan shuddered. Ugh. Disgusting. When we arrive on Coruscant I'm going to introduce him to the joys of toothpaste. Obi-wan left the motel, garnering a few strange looks (which he promptly ignored. The locals could think what they wanted). He jogged back to the ship, Maul's chin bouncing uncomfortably on his collarbone.
He secured his passenger in a chair (more tightly this time- Obi-wan was far more wary after watching the Zabrak slip his arms gracefully out of knots that should have been near impossible to wriggle out of) and started up the ship. The engine hummed gently.
Alright Coruscant, here we come.
Coruscant was dark and buzzing by the time they arrived, glowing city lights giving the planet an eerie aura. Obi-wan parked his ship on the nearest landing pad to home, and readied himself to drag Maul's unconscious form once more. However, when he turned to knock the Zabrak out, Maul said quickly, "I'll behave, Kenobi."
I'm sure you've got one hell of a headache from when I whacked you in the forehead during our pit-stop for lunch. Bet you're regretting trying to Force-stab me with a plastic spoon now, asshole. Obi-wan raised an eyebrow.
"Will you, now?"
"Yes," Maul hissed impatiently. "Now let me out of this chair." He wriggled a bit.
"No. I haven't forgotten what happened during lunch." Obi-wan reached out, resting his hand on Maul's temple. Maul jerked away, but before he could do much else, Obi-wan knocked him out using the Force.
As Obi-wan carried the Zabrak back to his apartment in the pounding rain, he thought: Maul's right about one thing. I've got to find another way to transport him.
Reaching home was a relief. Obi-wan let out a small sigh of contentment as he entered his familiar, messy quarters. He dumped Maul on the doormat carelessly and removed his soaked outer clothing, hanging them to dry on one of the pegs by the door. Then, he gently peeled off Maul's ratty shirt. It was faded black and filthy: smelled of sweat and and blood and motor oil. Obi-wan made the decision to chuck the item into the incinerator (because honestly? It looked like the same vest Maul had worn when Obi-wan sliced him in half all those years ago on Naboo.) He propped Maul up on the side of the wall. I'll need to get him a shirt. ...And a towel. And a shower. He smells awful.
Obi-wan walked across the room, opening up the wardrobe on the other side of his bed. He selected a towel and one of his smallest shirts. Say what you like about Zabraks in general, but Maul is smaller than I am.
Obi-wan went to the bathroom and began to run the water for a bath. I'll have to be in here with him. I don't want him to try anything. Obi-wan carefully collected his shaving equipment and tucked it in a cabinet out of reach. He spread a bathmat on the floor.
When Obi-wan came back for Maul, he was nowhere in sight. Obi-wan sighed and reached out with the Force: feeling for any ripples and shifts in the fabric of it. A small tendril of anger disturbed it, emanating from-
"Maul, I know you're under the bed." Like a goddamn gremlin.
Silence.
This is ridiculous. Obi-wan approached on padded feet, peering into the darkness under the bed. There. A glint of golden eyes, and Obi-wan used the Force to drag Maul, hissing and spitting, out from under the bed. Maul glared at him, flexing his hands angrily.
Obi-wan sighed. "I don't know what you thought you were going to accomplish by hiding under my bed."
Maul glared at him.
"I've also prepared hot water for a bath."
Maul snarled. Obi-wan smiled blandly.
A few screams and attempts to scratch eyes out later, Maul sat fuming nose-deep in bubbles on one end of the bathtub, glaring at Obi-wan (incidentally, it was the furthest end of the bath from the Jedi.) Kenobi gave him another shit-eating grin and tossed some soap at him.
"Wash. You smell ungodly."
Maul sank lower into the mound of bubbles and moodily grabbed the soap, scrubbing hard at his skin. Layers of grime washed off, turning the water a grey-brown color. After a few minutes, Maul threw the soap back at Obi-wan, hard. Obi-wan caught the soap with one hand, allowing the Force to keep it from slipping from his fingers.
"You done then, Maul?"
Maul growled at him. Obi-wan let the water out and threw a towel over his head. The Zabrak snorted and dried himself off. He used his hands (and just a tad of the Force) to propel himself onto the bathmat with a thump. Maul winced.
Obi-wan blinked. "It's still sensitive, then? The scars, I mean."
Maul stared at him with his golden eyes. "Yes, Kenobi. It is still sensitive." His voice lilted slightly. Obi-wan felt a few chills go down his spine.
"...Right," he heard himself say, clapping his hands together, "guess it's time for dinner."
Maul huffed at him in annoyance. "Where are my clothes?"
Obi-wan blinked at him guilelessly. "Oh, those rags? I chucked them in the incinerator."
"You- what?!" If looks could kill, Obi-wan would be dead before Maul's gaze.
"Yeah, they were disgusting." Serves you right. Didn't think you'd care, though.
Maul gritted his teeth. "I...see."
Kenobi tossed a shirt to him. "It's my smallest."
Maul snarled and tugged it over his head, tearing it slightly where his horns prodded into the fabric. Obi-wan resisted the temptation to snap at him. Don't give in to it. He's trying to piss me off. Besides, bitching at him won't fix the shirt. Instead, Obi-wan gave Maul the widest smile he could manage.
Dinner was an interesting affair. Maul stared intently at Obi-wan as he moved about the kitchen, as if he'd never seen someone cook before. Maybe he hasn't. I'm fairly certain his diet's been shit, anyway.
"There isn't much left in the fridge, so dinner'll be pretty bland." Obi-wan stirred the cabbage (he hated cabbage) and checked on the eggs.
"I do not care." Maul was sitting in a chair at the table, arms crossed, chin thrust forwards aggressively.
Obi-wan shrugged and went about preparing dinner.
When he set down a (pre-peeled) boiled egg and a steaming plate of cabbage in front of Maul, an expression of confusion crossed the Zabrak's face. Then he frowned.
Obi-wan sat across from him and set about cracking his egg and eating it. Maul watched him, and then popped his entire egg in his mouth. He chewed silently and swallowed with what Obi-wan thought was unusual ease (Maul's face didn't look like he could put an entire egg in his mouth without choking.)
Obi-wan ate his own egg with a spoon. Maul glared at him, Force-tugging Obi-wan's fork across the table. The Jedi stiffened, ready to defend himself should Maul fling it at him, but the Zabrak merely stabbed at his cabbage. After one or two cautious bites, Maul shoveled the rest of the plate down. Obi-wan raised his eyebrow. Apparently Maul likes cabbage.
Maul set the fork back down on the table, stretching back in his chair with an almost inaudible sigh.
Obi-wan smirked and busied himself with eating his cabbage with a spoon.