Obi-Wan once again made his way down to the "Black Rockpool", taking pains to make certain that he wasn't followed. When he had left, Anakin had rather reproachfully asked him where he was going.
"To get a drink, if it's any of your focking business," Obi-Wan had replied, scowling.
Obi-Wan entered the dingy bar and sat down at the same barstool he did every time. Fewer patrons were inside, and the place was oddly quiet. Obi-Wan allowed himself a relaxed sigh - peace at last.
As the barkeep handed him his mug of blue beer, the bar doors banged open. A tall, sinewy male stood there with a goo-covered dagger in one hand. "Can I get some mead?" he asked, seating himself beside Obi-Wan.
"Mead? I'll see what I can do," the barkeep replied as he cleaned out a dingy glass mug with a dirty dishrag.
"Orlando!" Obi-Wan said, turning to the elf. "Or should I say Legolas?"
"Talk about your underworld connections," Legolas replied. Ewan-Wan! I didn't know you drank... blue beer."
"Among other things."
"Sorry," the barkeep said as he returned to the counter, still swabbing out the same filthy glass. "We're all out of mead."
"Damnit! No focking mead!" Legolas shouted. "Well, see you around E-wan... assuming you survive of course."
Obi-Wan went back to his drink, his thoughts turned inward on the wacky series of events that had recently befallen him. He was just wondering about the state of his life when a voice from behind him broke him out of his reverie.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
Obi-Wan turned to see the source of the voice, which was very familiar to him. However, because he was already slightly drunk and because the bar was exceptionally dark, he failed to recognize the woman who sat down next to him. However, he wasn't too drunk to recognize an opportunity. He silently thanked the all-powerful writing goddesses. 'I have no clue who the is, but I think I'm getting focking laid tonight!' he thought.
~-~-~-
"Hmm, we could be heroes, lalala." Obi-Wan hummed cheerfully as he dropped breakfast sausages and bacon into a frying pan.
"Just for one day," Satine responded as she scrambled eggs in a frying pan. "And... you do drink all the time!"
"Beer is good," Obi-Wan replied lightly. "I can't believe I didn't recognize you at first! I don't usually forget a good fock."
"You really ought to think of shaving, love," Satine muttered, scratching Obi-Wan's hair.
"I'll focking shave when I feel like it," Obi-Wan said, looking highly affronted. "Jedi men wear beards to look noble."
Padme and Anakin walked into the room, holding hands. Anakin looked Satine up and down a moment, then turned to Obi-Wan. "Wow, master, I have a new respect for you!"
"He's a master in more ways than one. I have a new understanding of the Force," said Satine.
"As do I," Padme replied, grinning at Anakin.
"And me," said Dooku, who was feeling left out. He and Palpatine had painted their toes bright magenta, and both were wearing fuzzy bunny slippers and pink pony-patterned bathrobes.
"Dooku... may I restate... that's just creepy," Obi-Wan shuddered.
"Pervy you all are, hmm?" said Yoda.
"I don't think I'll eat breakfast today," Padme sighed.
"Oh, for god's sake!" Obi-Wan growled, throwing his towel down. As he did so, he burnt his hand. "Focking hell!" he shouted, dancing around the kitchen in pain with his fingers in his mouth.
Satine handed him an ice pack and gave Padme a can of Sprite. "Drink this," she ordered.
"What for?"
"I spent my entire life in a whore-house. You don't think I've seen this before?"
"Wha-? I... he... you... I thought Obi-Wan was joking!" Padme spluttered.
"No, I wasn't focking joking," Obi-Wan muttered as he rubbed neosporin on his hand. "Good going, Anakin. Teenagers..."
"I'm not a teenager," Padme protested shrilly. "I'm twenty-four!"
"Well, you certainly don't act it," Satine said primly.
"At least I'm not a whore!"
"At least I didn't live in a Wal-Mart!"
BM: All right, break it up...
CR: Think it's time to end this fic?
BM: Yeah. It was almost sappy and sentimental there...
CR: I know the perfect ending.
BM: What? What?? TELL MEEEE!!!
CR: The End
BM: Clever... clever... you know, I bet we'll win an Oscar for this. Oh wait... it's not a movie... never mind.
End Notes: Sorry for the short chapter... the fic just sort of ended O.o anyway, I'll start typing the LOTR one. Expect it to be posted soon!
"To get a drink, if it's any of your focking business," Obi-Wan had replied, scowling.
Obi-Wan entered the dingy bar and sat down at the same barstool he did every time. Fewer patrons were inside, and the place was oddly quiet. Obi-Wan allowed himself a relaxed sigh - peace at last.
As the barkeep handed him his mug of blue beer, the bar doors banged open. A tall, sinewy male stood there with a goo-covered dagger in one hand. "Can I get some mead?" he asked, seating himself beside Obi-Wan.
"Mead? I'll see what I can do," the barkeep replied as he cleaned out a dingy glass mug with a dirty dishrag.
"Orlando!" Obi-Wan said, turning to the elf. "Or should I say Legolas?"
"Talk about your underworld connections," Legolas replied. Ewan-Wan! I didn't know you drank... blue beer."
"Among other things."
"Sorry," the barkeep said as he returned to the counter, still swabbing out the same filthy glass. "We're all out of mead."
"Damnit! No focking mead!" Legolas shouted. "Well, see you around E-wan... assuming you survive of course."
Obi-Wan went back to his drink, his thoughts turned inward on the wacky series of events that had recently befallen him. He was just wondering about the state of his life when a voice from behind him broke him out of his reverie.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
Obi-Wan turned to see the source of the voice, which was very familiar to him. However, because he was already slightly drunk and because the bar was exceptionally dark, he failed to recognize the woman who sat down next to him. However, he wasn't too drunk to recognize an opportunity. He silently thanked the all-powerful writing goddesses. 'I have no clue who the is, but I think I'm getting focking laid tonight!' he thought.
~-~-~-
"Hmm, we could be heroes, lalala." Obi-Wan hummed cheerfully as he dropped breakfast sausages and bacon into a frying pan.
"Just for one day," Satine responded as she scrambled eggs in a frying pan. "And... you do drink all the time!"
"Beer is good," Obi-Wan replied lightly. "I can't believe I didn't recognize you at first! I don't usually forget a good fock."
"You really ought to think of shaving, love," Satine muttered, scratching Obi-Wan's hair.
"I'll focking shave when I feel like it," Obi-Wan said, looking highly affronted. "Jedi men wear beards to look noble."
Padme and Anakin walked into the room, holding hands. Anakin looked Satine up and down a moment, then turned to Obi-Wan. "Wow, master, I have a new respect for you!"
"He's a master in more ways than one. I have a new understanding of the Force," said Satine.
"As do I," Padme replied, grinning at Anakin.
"And me," said Dooku, who was feeling left out. He and Palpatine had painted their toes bright magenta, and both were wearing fuzzy bunny slippers and pink pony-patterned bathrobes.
"Dooku... may I restate... that's just creepy," Obi-Wan shuddered.
"Pervy you all are, hmm?" said Yoda.
"I don't think I'll eat breakfast today," Padme sighed.
"Oh, for god's sake!" Obi-Wan growled, throwing his towel down. As he did so, he burnt his hand. "Focking hell!" he shouted, dancing around the kitchen in pain with his fingers in his mouth.
Satine handed him an ice pack and gave Padme a can of Sprite. "Drink this," she ordered.
"What for?"
"I spent my entire life in a whore-house. You don't think I've seen this before?"
"Wha-? I... he... you... I thought Obi-Wan was joking!" Padme spluttered.
"No, I wasn't focking joking," Obi-Wan muttered as he rubbed neosporin on his hand. "Good going, Anakin. Teenagers..."
"I'm not a teenager," Padme protested shrilly. "I'm twenty-four!"
"Well, you certainly don't act it," Satine said primly.
"At least I'm not a whore!"
"At least I didn't live in a Wal-Mart!"
BM: All right, break it up...
CR: Think it's time to end this fic?
BM: Yeah. It was almost sappy and sentimental there...
CR: I know the perfect ending.
BM: What? What?? TELL MEEEE!!!
CR: The End
BM: Clever... clever... you know, I bet we'll win an Oscar for this. Oh wait... it's not a movie... never mind.
End Notes: Sorry for the short chapter... the fic just sort of ended O.o anyway, I'll start typing the LOTR one. Expect it to be posted soon!