Title: One Big City, One Little Diner
Author: Shampoo30 (JediShampoo@aol.com)
Rating: Strong R for the last bits (read: SEX), but mostly PG
Synopsis: A power outage on Coruscant leads Obi-Wan to Dex's Diner, where he lends comfort to a troubled waitress.
Feedback: Yes, please. Positive, Constructive, Negative, or Flames. Leave it all. Help me improve!
Disclaimer: I do not own most of the characters in this story. George Lucas does. The ones I made up I do not want. I made no money from writing this, and we can only be thankful for it.
Notes: This way the story panned out, it doesn't actually require smut. But I was powerless to deny the Muse of Obi-Smut. This was inspired by SaraC, who first came up with the idea for a combination of Obi-Wan, smut and Dex's Diner. Thanks to Sara for her beta, love ya girl! And also inspired by the Visual Dictionary. It told me that the blonde waitress in Dex's Diner is named Hermione (look it up if you don't believe me). Thanks to Arco for a second beta-read, and for the Visual Dictionary.
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Coruscant—"the entire planet is one big city." On this world, buildings pierce the sky, taking the place of trees. The most majestic skyscrapers rise hundreds of stories, branching into one another with walkways and tubes in an interconnected metal and transparisteel ecology. And these buildings have roots, the basements and sub-basements that snake through and below the foundations and bedrock, dark levels and passages long-forgotten by those above.
Above, on the highest levels, live the glittering and beautiful and influential. The rich preen in their brightly-colored finery like feathers, and power-hungry galactic executives and politicians watch the city like birds of prey in their muted blacks, grays and browns. At or near the surface live the ground-dwellers, populous but plain, aspiring to the heights but mostly content to catch what those above allow to drop.
Below, the most primitive life-forms dwell. Sentient beings live alongside the rodents and parasites, their standard of living not much higher than that of their less-evolved neighbors. Both survive off adapting, and scavenging, and stale, recycled air funneled down from the surface above.
But deep below the surface of Coruscant, in the forgotten places where machinery and power conduits hum and throb and give electric life to the city above, the smallest and basest of creatures sometimes hold sway. Duracrete slugs, brought to the planet by freighters and offworld cargo, hide and chew into the very foundations of the city, exposing sensitive wires and conduits. Stone mites rush in to consume the raw metal. Connections are broken. Power is lost. Sometimes it's only a room or two, or a building. Sometimes, depending on the significance of the pipe or wire, a whole sector goes dark.
This is when the rich are most fortunate. Most of the better sort of Coruscanti have their own emergency generators to keep lights lit and rooms cool. The poor, however, on the surface or below, must wait, quiet in the dark and steamy heat, hoping some anonymous technician will fix the problem before the looters come.
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Obi-Wan wandered the manufacturing district at surface level, boots quiet on the duracrete and senses attuned to possible threats. Now and then a light pooled on the sidewalks, an oasis in the darkness, but most doorways and corners lay shrouded in shadows. Far, far above him, the city traffic swerved and screamed in busy normalcy. But down here, it was all dripping and stillness.
Normally, Jedi were called upon for important galactic duties, spending nearly all their valuable time at the beck and call of the senators and ambassadors. But sometimes, during severe power outages, the Jedi slipped from the Temple to patrol the streets and the underworld. On nights like this, it was the honest civilians and shopkeepers who needed their protection the most.
And that's what Obi-Wan was doing this evening. Other Jedi, his apprentice Anakin among them, had spread out, up, and down several levels, standing as sentinels against the dark until the power situation was under control.
As was usual for this time of night, the factory district was mostly deserted anyway. But Obi-Wan had chosen this neighborhood on purpose. Down this street lay a humble eatery which had once been owned by Didi, a friend from his childhood. The current owner, a Besalisk named Dexter Jettster, was no less of a friend to Obi-Wan, and he felt an interest in looking out for Dex.
Down the block, Obi-Wan recognized the rectangular shape of the diner as it lurked on a darkened corner. He was somewhat dismayed to find it as unlit as the rest of the street. He'd have thought that Dex, as canny as any old smuggler and general scoundrel should be, would have a contraband generator stored away somewhere. Obi-Wan shook his head inside his hood and approached the building. Muffled shrieks poured from the cracks in the door to the outside. Alarmed, Obi-Wan quickened his steps and reached for his lightsaber.
A nudge from the Force took care of the locked door. As Obi-Wan leapt the threshold, he thumbed his lightsaber to life and ghostly blue light filled the darkness. It illuminated the deserted bar and the shivering form of one of Dexter's waitresses, leaning against it. Red fire erupted from the end of the blaster she held in one trembling hand.
"Whoa!" Obi-Wan, yelled, and flicked his wrist to deflect the bolt against the ceiling. It exploded on the tiles in a spray of spark and ash.
"Who are you? Get out of here!" shrieked the trigger-happy blonde as she backed away from his intrusion. "I'll shoot again!"
"It's just me! It's Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Jedi," he elaborated, using the Force to grab the still-smoking blaster from her trembling hand and pull it to his own. He held his saber out to the side, and shook off his hood to give her a better look. "I'm a friend of Dex's."
"Oh, yeah. Kenobi." She stared at her outstretched hand for a moment as if expecting the blaster to still be there, then retracted it and backed further away, behind a table. She eyed him suspiciously. "Why did you come busting in here?"
"I 'busted' in here because I heard screams," he said, exasperated. "What happened…Hermione, is it?"
"Yeah, it's Hermione," she acknowledged, and seemed to relax a little. She flopped into a seat at one of the deserted tables. "I was screaming at that stupid droid. When the lights went out, I just shooed everyone out of here, and tried to hide. To keep it quiet. But no. Way-Seven, she kept screeching about how I chased off the customers, now we're gonna be robbed, she's gonna be stolen and dismantled into spare parts, so I yelled at her to shut up, and turned her off. Then you broke in, and scared me half to death."
Obi-Wan listened to this story with increasing amusement. "I'm sorry to have frightened you, Hermione. I actually intended to rescue you, but it doesn't seem necessary at this point," he grinned, and sat down across from her. Almost absently, he used the Force to shut the still-open door behind him. He de-ignited his lightsaber and reached into a tunic pocket for a glowrod, then set it on the table between them. White light replaced the blue in the murk, casting their features into a less eerie perspective.
She gave a small laugh and reached up to tuck a stray blonde lock into the twist on top of her head. "Dex is gonna make you pay for that, you know," she said, and lifted a red fingernail to point at the blackened hole in the ceiling.
"You're the one who fired," Obi-Wan said, and handed back her blaster. "Where is Dex, by the way? I thought he would be here, protecting his investment, during such a blackout."
Hermione sighed. "Dex won't be back for a couple of days. He's somewhere off-planet. Checking out a new distributor, or something. He left me in charge."
"And then the power went out," Obi-Wan commiserated.
"Yeah. To top it off, the backup generator's been stolen. I never even knew it was gone till I went back to try and turn it on." She turned and looked speculatively at WA-7, Dex's spirited serving droid, who leaned, unnaturally quiet, against the counter. "I guess I could try and rig that droid's power cells to the terminal…get the security system back online, at least."
"Not fond of Way-Seven, I take it?" Obi-Wan chuckled. "Probably not a good idea. It might short her out."
"Oh, she's okay. Just gets a little bossy sometimes. Worth a thought, though," Hermione said. She leaned forward and dropped her chin into her palm dispiritedly. Her pale hair fell back into her eyes. "Dex is gonna kill me, about that generator. I'll be lucky if I don't end up back at some underworld casino… wearing next to nothing, peddling watered-down drinks…" She trailed off.
"I'm sure Dex won't be that harsh. It's not your fault, anyway," Obi-Wan soothed. He certainly couldn't picture the Besalisk being that cruel. Dex had gruff ways but was kindness itself when it came to the downtrodden. He eyed Hermione with curiosity. He had never paid that much attention to her before, but from what he had seen of her, she didn't really seem like the downtrodden.
Her comment about the underworld concerned him, though. He'd been deep below the surface, many times. Each time made him feel worse than the last. Desperation and lawlessness were the rule. A young, attractive, human female like Hermione would be ripe for exploitation by the criminal gambling and entertainment bosses. And for prostitution. "Are you from the underlevels?" he asked, quietly.
"Yeah." She straightened and fixed a cold eye on him, immediately defensive. "Why? Do I look like I belong there?"
"No," Obi-Wan replied, surprised. "Why would I think that?"
"Oh, nothing. Sorry. I'm just a little on edge. The lights..."
She looked nervous, too, eyes darting through the windows to the darkened street. Obi-Wan couldn't blame her. A dark Coruscant, on ground level, in this neighborhood, was something to be wary of. "Well, I'll warn you if anything comes close," he joked.
"Thanks. Jedi can be handy to have around, sometimes," she quipped back, appearing to be glad for his light-hearted banter. "Where's the kid?"
Obi-Wan knew she meant Anakin, whom Obi-Wan had brought in to the diner several times. Anakin wasn't as fond of Dexter's dubious sliders as his master, but the young man wisely kept his mouth shut and tried to enjoy the visits as much as possible. "Out somewhere else in the sector, keeping an eye on things. With the other Jedi. I just figured I'd pop in, check on the place, visit Dex."
"Oh. Well, sorry. It's just me." She seemed to become melancholy again.
"No need to apologize," Obi-Wan said. "Why don't you go home, yourself?"
"I don't wa--" she started, then seemed to catch herself. She gave a weak grin and held up the blaster. "I mean, I can't. I gotta keep an eye on this place, make sure nothing else is stolen. You don't have to stay."
"I'm not in any hurry," Obi-Wan said, eyes narrowing in concern. And he realized he wasn't. He could watch the street as well from in here as outside. Something was definitely bothering her, besides the power outage. Something he couldn't identify. But he really didn't know her very well at all, not well enough to pry, anyway.
Of course he'd spoken to her before, briefly, on visits to the diner. She was usually busy, juggling customers or arguing with Way-Seven on some food or service matter. Dex was always the one Obi-Wan came to see. Well, Dex and the menu, which thankfully, contained nothing like the overblown and exotic dishes the Jedi Temple kitchens liked to serve.
He'd never thought of Hermione beyond the way he thought of any other waitress in a surface-level diner—brash, competent, cheerful. But she was Dex's friend. At least he could give her someone to talk to. "Had a difficult day? Besides the power outage, of course." He took his cloak off and threw it over the seat next to him, indicating that he was prepared to stay.
"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," Hermione vented as she watched him. "I had these problem customers. I had this one guy…well, I won't go into detail, but I guess he thought that without Dex around, he could talk to me anyway he wanted. Making suggestions, you know. And that other cook, Spode, he's no use at all. Sometimes I wish I was that droid. No one ever comes on to a droid."
Ah, thought Obi-Wan. That was the crux of the problem. Something to do with men. "You got rid of him, though, I take it?" Obi-Wan leaned back, prepared to be sympathetic.
"Yeah. I guess I'm just a little sensitive, you know?" She waved a slim hand around, indicating the diner, its contents, the outside. "I thought, working on the surface and all, things would be a little more respectable. I'm glad to be up here. But sometimes you run into people who try to bring you back down…" she trailed off, pensive.
"Well, you've probably worked hard to get where you are," he pointed out sympathetically. "Sometimes you just have to ignore what the ignorant have to say."
"You just don't get it, do you?" She straightened and eyed him coldly for a moment, then waved her hand at him in a dismissive gesture. "Of course you don't. You're a Jedi. You don't have to worry about it. You can just look down on everybody."
"Easy! I'm not the enemy here." Obi-Wan didn't think her vitriol was really directed at him, or the Jedi, but he felt the need to defend himself to her anyway. "The Jedi most specifically do not 'look down on everybody.' What makes you think that?"
"Wellll…" she drew out the syllable, then was quiet for a moment. She reached up and savagely jerked out the tie that held her vertical hairdo. She busied herself with pulling the blonde strands down, and answered without looking at Obi-Wan. "Don't you get brought in as kids, or something? Someone takes care of you all your life. You don't have to worry about what you're gonna eat, what you're gonna do in the future. You don't have to worry about someone trying to tell you the farthest you're ever gonna get in life is serving cocktails to Rodians and Ranats in some underworld gambling hell." She paused to take a breath.
Obi-Wan interrupted her diatribe. "Did someone tell you that?" he asked quietly. He watched as her blonde locks cascaded about her shoulders. She really was very pretty, he thought, without her hair pulled up straight in that ridiculous ponytail. But her blue eyes were haunted. "Has someone been giving you trouble?"
"If they have, I can take care of it myself." Hermione shook her hair out, placed her palms flat on the table, and finally brought her eyes up to meet Obi-Wan's once more. Intelligence, and a smidgeon of defiance, shone in her gaze. "I don't need the Jedi to protect me from life."
Obi-Wan straightened, a little stung by her censure. "I'm not offering to defend you. I'm merely offering to listen, if you need to talk."
To his surprise, Hermione smiled. Her grin seemed to brighten her from the inside, erasing the circles under her eyes. "Well, I guess you told me, then!" she chuckled, and sighed. "Sorry about that. Again! See, I told you I was on edge. And you were only trying to be nice."
"Indeed," Obi-Wan said, and worked his face into a fake expression of hurt. He hoped he looked pathetic.
Obviously he succeeded, because she snickered at him. "Stop it! Now you're trying to make me laugh."
"Indeed," he repeated, smirking back at her. "But you look better when you laugh." He meant it, too.
"You think so, huh?" she asked with a touch of suspicion, but the smile didn't leave her eyes.
"Indeed," he said a third time.
Hermione rolled her eyes at that and leaned back. She sat there for a moment, watching him, then exhaled heavily through pursed lips, sending strands of blonde hair flying about her face. "All right. You offered to listen, but you're probably gonna regret it. But if I tell you my problems, will you promise to stop saying 'indeed' in that smarmy way of yours?"
"In—of course," he answered. "I'd be happy to listen. And I'm not smarmy."
"Hmph," was her reply. Then she abruptly stood and looked down at him. "How about if I get us something to drink first? Whaddya want—hot or cold? Wait a minute, forget that. Cold is all we got right now."
"Sounds wonderful," Obi-Wan said, and watched, in the faint light from his glowrod, as she sauntered around the corner. Her tall boots squeaked slightly on the waxed floor, tiny fragments of sound in the sudden silence. He couldn't help but notice the petite, trim figure she made in her old-fashioned uniform. Her old-fashioned short uniform, he amended silently. He was vaguely surprised that he had only just now noticed it, and the expanse of leg that peeped out between the hem of her skirt and the top of her boots. What was Dex thinking, dressing her like that? Well, of course he knew what Dex was thinking. Dex was thinking of his customers' enjoyment.
But only minutes ago, she'd grumbled about what she might be forced to wear in a more disreputable environment. Obi-Wan's mind unconsciously pictured her in something less respectable. His mouth went a little dry, and he banished the inappropriate thought.
"Alcoholic or non-alcoholic?" Hermione called from the other side of the counter, interrupting his thoughts. He could barely see her through the dark, as she searched the shadowy interiors of several overhead cooling cabinets.
"Just juice or something for me, please."
He heard a faint chuckle from her direction. "Juice, we got. It's gonna be something stronger for me. I need it." She reached up to grab several items, then wound her way back over to their table. She swung a bottle in Obi-Wan's direction before handing him a glass. "How long is that thing gonna last? You'd think Dex would have some of those stashed around here."
Obi-Wan realized she meant his glowrod. "That would last a day or two, if I needed it. Very high quality."
"Only the best for the Jedi," she quipped and popped the lid from the fatter of the two bottles she held. She poured something into Obi-Wan's glass. The color was indistinguishable in the irregular light, but Obi-Wan felt the cold seep through the glass into his fingers.
A whispered aroma of fruit hung in the atmosphere around their table. Oddly, it reminded Obi-Wan of his childhood. A mission with Qui-Gon, or something. The unbidden half-memory drifted away, as gently as it had come. "Thanks."
"No problem." She sat across from him again. She hadn't even bothered to bring herself a glass, but plopped an entire smallish bottle of something onto a napkin in front of her. "Don't worry, Dex, it's not the good stuff," she murmured to herself, then took a swig.
"I hope it's at least some middling good stuff. You deserve that, I'm sure," Obi-Wan commented, as he watched a few dark droplets of whatever she was guzzling trickle down her chin. He leaned and half-moved his hand to intercept one, but caught himself as she swiped her palm across her mouth.
Hermione gave him a strange look as she answered. "Not according to everyone." She took another drink before she elaborated on this statement. "Okay. I've been having problems with this ex-boyfriend. He's jealous that I left him, and jealous that I'm trying to make things better for myself. Boring, huh? Are you sure you still want to hear this?"
"Of course," replied Obi-Wan, settling back against the vinyl of his seat. And he meant it. After listening day after day to the squabbling of politicians, it was somewhat refreshing to get back to the basic problems of normal people. The classic dilemmas that never went out of style-- sex and money.
"All right. Well, I haven't been with him for a few months. I knew him when I was living in Green's Ward District. You know it?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied neutrally. It was not a good place. Far from the Temple, at least twenty levels down, and hardly any green to speak of. Notorious for loan kiosks and extortion mecha-gangs. Obi-Wan had been there once, with Anakin, researching the cash flow of a weapons-smuggling ring with some political connections, which were of course quickly hushed up for fear of dividing the Senate. He didn't have pleasant memories of the area.
Neither, apparently, did Hermione. "I hated that place. It was better than where I grew up, but I won't go into that. Anyway, I was working in a club, and dating one of the doormen. Lem. Nice, normal, not a bad guy, had some connections, kept me safe. Right?"
Obi-Wan merely nodded, and sipped at his juice.
She hefted the bottle for another drink before continuing. "Well, Lem's idea of moving up in the galaxy meant getting in on some of the boss's action. Special jobs." Here, she held up her hands and curled her slim fingers at Obi-Wan in the universal gesture for 'yeah, right.' "Well, after the third time coming home and finding our place trashed, where someone came in looking for stuff to do with Lem's 'special jobs,' I said, forget this. It really stinks. You try to buy things, here and there, clothes, pretty things, what you can afford, and all you're doing is giving some hired tech-raider something to dig through and break. You know?"
"Mmm-hmm." Obi-Wan knew she used the phrase reflexively, but once he thought about it, realized he really didn't know. He tried to picture someone digging through his and Anakin's quarters at the Temple, destroying what few personal items they possessed. The idea was ludicrous. He knew that billions of beings didn't have the luxury of Temple protection. But somehow, knowing that it had happened to her, a person sitting right across from him, made him feel strangely sad about the universe. Personal privacy was such a small, basic thing. A thing he wondered now if he'd always taken for granted.
Ignorant of his thoughts, she continued. "Well. Lem didn't want to leave. Things were going too good for him, he said. So I packed up what little was mine, and left. Said I was going to take classes or something. And I have."
She clearly expected a response to this. "Oh? What kind?"
"Basic tech classes. Databanks. Something that might do me some good. Dex gives me some time off for them. He's pretty good to me. That's why I feel so bad about the generator. I was looking for jobs in the manufactories, and stopped in the diner. Dex had just bought it. He listened to my sad story and offered me a job. And here I am." Hermione waved the bottle around, then wrapped her lips around the neck and upended it. Obi-Wan watched in silent and amused awe as she drained it, chest heaving, and set it back on the table with a slam. She gave him a sloppy grin. "Wow, that's pretty good. Think I'll have another."
She stood and went back around the bar. This time, Obi-Wan kept his eyes firmly on his own glass instead of on the bottom of her skirt.
He lifted his head as Hermione returned, this time with two bottles tucked under one arm. She popped the lid from one and leaned over, offering him a lovely eye-level view of her blue uniform from the upper end. Her blonde hair swung forward to tickle his forehead. This time Obi-Wan noticed how low her top was cut. Too low. Dex should be shot. He dragged his eyes up to her face.
She was grinning at him, eyes alight. "You want some of this? It's really good," she said and held out a bottle.
He would have sworn she was doing it on purpose. "No, thank you," he demurred, and reached for the juice bottle on the table. "There's still some of this left."
She gave him an amused shrug and sat down. "Your loss." She shifted back against her seat and ran her eyes around the darkened diner. She halted her gaze at Way-Seven, who leaned silently and crookedly against the counter. "That droid looks really spooky, sitting there all quiet like that, staring at us. Dex doesn't really let her be turned off. When she tells him, I'll be in trouble for that, too."
Obi-Wan glanced over. The diffused light from his glowrod reflected from the droid's photoreceptors, giving it a strangely sentient and penetrating countenance. He had no special liking for droids, but sometimes felt an inexplicable pity for a thinking entity that could be turned on or off at the caprice of others. "Should we turn her back on?"
Hermione snorted. "No way. I'm loving the peace and quiet. I'll give her a good oil bath later, to make up for it. Let me enjoy myself while I can."
"You should enjoy yourself more," Obi-Wan said quietly, turning his gaze back to Hermione. She'd had a hard life, he thought. She was smart, young, and attractive. She deserved better than she'd had so far. "Do you ever get the chance? You seem pretty busy."
"Not really. That's the other part of my problem. It's Lem. He won't leave me alone." Hermione sighed and paused to begin the task of emptying her second bottle. She drank for a moment, then wiped her lips and continued. "He keeps coming around. He found out where I live. That's why…that's why I didn't want to go home, in the dark. He's tried to come here before, begging for money, trying to tell me I don't belong here. One time Dex had to chase him off and threaten him not to come back. Can you imagine how embarrassing that was? I felt so pathetic and stupid. But Lem hasn't tried to come back here, at least."
Obi-Wan was about to reply when a prickle in the Force warned him of another presence nearby. The sense had barely formed itself before the transparisteel doors of the diner began to rumble. Someone was pounding on them from outside.
"Mynee? You in there?" A male voice, muffled, stole through the cracks in the doors. "I can see the liiiiight," the voice sang, slurred.
Obi-Wan stood silently, gripping the handle of his saber, while Hermione extinguished the glowrod on the table. The Jedi could see an amorphous form through the transparisteel. The figure threw itself against the door with a thump, resolving into a humanoid shape as it pressed against the panes. The door rattled but held fast. "Are ya in there with a guy?" the voice asked, plaintively. "Let me in, Mynee…"
Obi-Wan glanced over in Hermione's direction. Only her frightened eyes shone at him, faintly highlighted by the scant glow filtering through from the outside. "Lem," she whispered. "I'm sorry…I'll take care of it."
Obi-Wan shook his head at her silently, the realized she couldn't see him anyway. "No, it's okay. Shhhh," he whispered. He wondered for a moment what he should do, if he should do anything. Hermione was obviously terrified. But she'd already told him she didn't want him involved, that she didn't need his help. She'd been embarrassed enough by Dex's intervention into her love life. But after all he'd heard, and the truth he'd sensed in her, he couldn't just stand there. He decided to offer her a choice. "Do you want me to let him in?" he whispered. "Do you want to finish this now?"
Her eyes closed, and he could see only her faint outline behind the table. After a long moment, she looked back at him. "Yeah," she said, voice flat. "Let him in."
Obi-Wan took up a position nearer the door, then waved his fingers. The door swished open. There was a yell, a thump and a crash as the figure of Lem, who'd just been ready to fling himself against the door again, came flying through and momentum smashed him into one of the stools at the counter. Lem cursed and untangled himself from the stool, sending it skidding across the floor to stop at Hermione's feet. He pulled himself upright and looked around in the dark, dazed.
"Whaddayou want, Lem? You're not supposed to come back here, remember?" Hermione's voice, laced with steel, asked from across the room.
"Mynee, Babe! I just wannet ta see you. Where are you?" Lem slurred, wobbling on his feet. He still hadn't noticed Obi-Wan, standing almost right next to him. "Ta make sure you're all right, an everthing."
Hermione stepped closer to where the two men stood. There was anger in her eyes, and she looked about ready to do grievous bodily harm to Lem. "I'm right here, and I'm fine," she yelled. "Now get out of here!"
"Well, lemme just see ya—whoa!"
The power came back, with a flash of blinding lights and a hum of electricity. After the silence of before, it almost seemed a roar, as the wave of power simultaneously kicked the generators of a hundred surrounding factories into gear.
Hermione didn't miss a beat.
"There, you've seen me," she spat at him. "And I never want to see you again. So leave!"
Lem took a step back at the fury in her voice. He was a tall man, broad, with black hair and a patchy beard. He wore dark, expensive clothing that was a little worse for wear. He would have been handsome if not for his red-rimmed alcoholic's eyes and the witlessness of his drunken expression.
Lem turned his red eyes to Obi-Wan, whom he'd just noticed. His facial muscles went slack with fear. "Aww, Mynee! Ya didn't call the Jedi on me, did ya?" He shuffled backwards, slowly, palms held up and outward.
Hermione stepped closer. Obi-Wan could sense the rage seething within her. "Of course not," she grated out between clenched teeth. "But--"
"Then what's he doing here?" Lem interrupted, waving a finger at Obi-Wan, who stood quietly, observing the proceedings.
Hermione stared at him for a moment. Then a sly expression took control of her features. "What do you think he's doing here, stupid?" With that, she threw herself at Obi-Wan, grabbing his shoulders and standing on tiptoe to plaster her lips on his.
Obi-Wan sure hadn't seen that one coming. Stunned, he didn't react at first, but let her kiss him. After a few moments, when she still hadn't come up for air, he rested his hands on her hips and let himself enjoy the sudden and eccentric embrace. He knew it was an act, but that didn't mean he couldn't like it. He tasted wine on her lips. So that's what she'd been drinking.
After a few more pleasant moments, Hermione pulled away, just an inch or two. "Sorry," she whispered against Obi-Wan's lips, then released him. She turned to stare with defiance at her erstwhile ex-lover. "Will you just go away, Lem? I'm busy."
"Yeah, I can see that," Lem said with a sneer, but the fear didn't leave his eyes. After a moment he pretended to brush himself off, then swiveled unsteadily to face the door. "Fine. If you're hangin' around with Jedi then I can see you're too high and mighty for me. You'll regret it when I got all the money, though," he jeered in a parting shot over his shoulder as he shuffled over the threshold. He also mumbled something else as he turned the corner, but whatever it was, it wasn't loud enough for either Obi-Wan or Hermione to hear. Translated, it was probably something nasty.
Hermione watched him go with some satisfaction. "More like he's just afraid to compete with a Jedi over high and mighty little me," she said. Hands on hips, she turned to look at Obi-Wan. She seemed surprised at his expression. "What?" she asked, when he just stared at her.
"You used me," Obi-Wan accused. He crossed his arms and glared. Truthfully, he was trying to keep from laughing, but she didn't need to know that.
"That I did. I said I was sorry," Hermione said cheerfully. She didn't look the slightest bit sorry, though. She shrugged and tossed her head, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. Her pretty features assumed an expression of piety. "I didn't want him to come back. Now he'll be too afraid. He won't want to attract the attention of the Jedi, what with the business he's in."
Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at her. "No I don't suppose so." And even if that hadn't been enough, Obi-Wan had used a little bit of the Force to make sure Lem never came back. But she didn't have to know that, either.
Hermione stood there for a moment and crossed her arms, booted toe tapping the floor. She seemed to reach a decision. "I'm going home," she announced, and stalked off around the counter, heading into the back room. "I've had enough for one night."
"I don't blame you," Obi-Wan said, and bent over to pick up the fallen stool. This had indeed been quite an evening. "I'll go with you. Just to be sure."
"Not necessary," Hermione called in a singsong voice as she came back, carrying a handbag, and stood next to Way-Seven. She curled a hand around the droid's headpiece and flipped a switch.
Way-Seven came to life. The droid's photoreceptors lit and its vocoder continued whatever conversation it had been having with Hermione before being shut off. "—can't just close down! Dex is going to have a—what's going on around here?" the droid's brash voice demanded. It swiveled to face Hermione, and mechanical hands clanged against its metal skirt as it assumed an almost human posture of outrage. "Where are you going?"
"Home," Hermione answered sweetly, and grabbed the still-full bottles of wine off the table. She shoved the blaster into her purse. "You can shut everything down, if you want. Check the security system, make sure it's working. I'll be back in the morning."
"You can't do that!" the droid objected, and swirled on its wheel to turn its glowing mechanical eyes to Obi-Wan. "She can't do that! We gotta keep this place running!" Obi-Wan said nothing but merely raised his hands, palms outwards, in a gesture that said he was not involved.
"I can and I will," replied Hermione firmly. She reached out to pat the droid's head, then turned and strolled towards the door. "Tomorrow morning is early enough to open. I'll be back at 0900 or something. Call Spode if you need anything."
The droid wasn't ready to give in. "How are you gonna explain this?"
"Oil bath tomorrow," sang Hermione as she bounced across the threshold to the outside.
"Huh," Way-Seven grumbled, then swiveled and zipped off around the counter, to clean up and do whatever else needed to be done.
Obi-Wan shot a look of sympathy at the droid, then grabbed his cloak and rushed to follow Hermione out the door. The night was still sultry. Obi-Wan felt the heat and humidity wash over him, penetrating his clothing. He hadn't realized how comfortable it had been inside.
When he caught up with Hermione, she was giggling. She turned to him with bright eyes as he came alongside her. "You really don't have to follow me home. I've got the blaster. Go and find your kid, your apprentice, or whatever. I'm sure he's wondering where you are."
"Anakin will be fine," Obi-Wan answered, laying his cloak over one forearm. "And you can't boss me around the way you do poor Way-Seven. You can't buy me off with an oil bath."
"Really?" Hermione tilted her head and looked at Obi-Wan with curiosity. Her blue gaze ran him up and down, from booted feet to eyes and back. She sighed. "Too bad. That could be kind of interesting."
Obi-Wan laughed out loud at that, then reached out to tuck her arm in his free one as they walked. He was really starting to like her. She certainly was resourceful. And funny. He was getting himself into trouble, walking her home. He found he didn't much care. "You don't frighten me."
"I can only try," she said, then shouldered her bag and waggled the bottles she held in one hand towards an alley. "That way. I'm pretty close. Only a few blocks."
Obi-Wan paused and gave a half-bow, indicating that she should lead on. They walked in a companionable silence.
Hermione was true to her word. Her quarters were not far. But her street was dark, not from any power outage but from lack of outside lighting. Obi-Wan was glad he had followed her home. They stopped in the middle of a long row of identical, evenly-spaced, plain doors, outlines illuminated only by distant city-shine. She picked what appeared to be a random door and palmed the keypad, and the portal slid open with a whoosh. Cold air rushed through to the outside, bathing them in it.
Hermione turned to Obi-Wan. "Not fancy, as you see. But the cooler's working, at least."
Obi-Wan wondered if this was it. He released her arm and gave her another half-bow. "Be safe. Good night."
Hermione seemed to hesitate, then grabbed his hand as he pulled it away from her elbow. "Hey. Thanks for walking me home. For everything." She stared at him for a moment, blue eyes boring into his, then she looked away and sighed. But she didn't let go of his arm. "Poor Lem," she murmured. "Sometimes I feel sorry for him."
Obi-Wan was surprised at the guilt he sensed in her. She was an enigma. Totally unrepentant one moment, vulnerable the next. He reached out to pull her chin up, then slid his fingers down to her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You've done the right thing," he said, reassuringly. "You are a beautiful and intelligent woman. You work hard. You deserve to have someone treat you well."
"Yeah," she whispered, staring back into his eyes. She looked dazed. Unsure. Afraid, in some way.
Obi-Wan mistook her fear. Or did he? "Speaking of Lem, do you want me to come in with you? Make sure everything is secure?"
Hermione watched him for a long moment without answering. Then she took a deep breath and cocked her head at him. A slight smile stole onto her lips. "Yeah," she answered, breathily. Then more firmly. "Yeah. I think I would like you to do that."
"Very well." Obi-Wan preceded her into the apartment, while she thumbed a lightpad behind him and closed the door. It was modest, but cozy. They stood in a small living room, containing a well-worn but comfortable-looking sofa, a holo-receiver, some plants. All the regular furnishings. Two darkened doorways led off from the main room. Obi-Wan stretched out his senses with the Force, searching the rooms, the small areas where someone could hide. He didn't find anything unusual. He was so intent on looking for a threat that he didn't sense Hermione move up behind him. He felt slim fingers slide into his hair and along his scalp, a slight, warm body press into his back. He turned sharply, nearly knocking her over.
"Whoops!" she chuckled, then lifted her hands to slide them up his chest. She tilted her chin to smile up at him dreamily. "You startled me."
Obi-Wan stepped back and took hold of her roving fingers. "Well, everything appears to be in order," he said, striving for a normal tone. She had obviously misread his intentions in coming here. Or had she? Obi-Wan couldn't decide. He shook his head mentally to clear it. "I guess I'd better be going."
"But I thought you wanted--" Hermione started, then backtracked as her error became apparent. "I mean, I thought you might want to stay for a bit."
Obi-Wan couldn't pretend to misunderstand her. He couldn't lie to himself, either. He wanted to stay, he realized. He liked her. He was attracted to her self-sufficiency, and her smile. He wanted to explore the tantalizing female skin he'd glimpsed earlier. So rarely did the opportunity come along in his life for intimate companionship. But he didn't want to make things worse for her. "Haven't you had enough problems with men for one day?" he joked.
"With the wrong kind of man," she said curling her fingers through his and holding his gaze. "You said I deserve better. Well, show me. Show me how a man should treat me, Obi-Wan."
It was the first time she had said his name. It sounded nice, coming from her lips. But he had to be sure. "I would like to show you," he replied, honestly. "But you do realize, the, the Jedi Order doesn't allow relationships," he began awkwardly, then collected his thoughts. "I could be gone tomorrow--"
"Good," she interrupted firmly, and released him to grab the cloak he still held, folded over one arm. She flung it onto the sofa. Her aim wasn't good. The brown material spilled over the edge of the cushions to pool in folds on the floor. "I don't want you around all the time, anyway," she continued, and reached up to grab his shoulders. She pulled herself up on her toes, bringing their faces closer, and closed her eyes and waited.
His lips closed the scant inches between them. Her mouth was soft, and sweet, her lips and chin dusted with traces of the wine. As he kissed her, his hands slid down to clasp her waist, lightly, his fingers playing with the tucks and folds of her dress. He would accept each moment as it came, and savor it. This one was filled with the taste of the inside of her mouth, the warmth pressed up against him. If other moments came after this one, they were gifts.
After a few minutes of this pleasant activity, she pulled back, only a tiny bit, and wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck. Her fingertips pulled at the cloth of his tunic, and at the skin underneath, as she tried to bring herself up, closer. "You're too tall," she finally whispered, her warm breath tickling his chin.
Obi-Wan laughed quietly. "Now that's something I don't hear too often," he said, and slid his hands over her hips to grasp her rounded backside. He lifted her, up, until they were eye-to-eye and her legs were wrapped around his waist. "How's that?" he asked, and ran his fingers under her skirt, lightly tracing the curve of her delightful bottom. He had wondered if she was wearing anything underneath. Now he knew, and the answer was not much.
"Better," Hermione giggled breathlessly, and leaned in to kiss him again. She unwrapped one arm from his neck and pointed in the direction of a darkened doorway. "In there," she mumbled against his lips.
Obi-Wan followed by sense rather than sight, since his line of vision was taken up with a cloud of blonde hair. It didn't help that she distracted him, sliding hot breath across his cheeks. He nearly dropped her when she bit his earlobe, sending puffs of breath across his eardrums and chills of sensation through his nerves to center in his abdomen. The edge of a mattress halted his unsteady knees.
He dropped her onto it, gently, then followed, stretching out atop her, pressing her down into the covers. Her legs still circled his hips, trapping him, and he could feel the heat of her skin, through their layers of clothing, burning into him. She moaned into his mouth, and the sensual sound of it bypassed his eardrums completely, creeping into his brain and curling around his thoughts. He wanted to burrow down, bury himself in her warmth, and—
"What were you going to show me?" Her whisper against his cheek jounced him back to a semblance of consciousness. She snapped her fingers and a tiny lamp in the corner clicked on, spreading a dim wash of gentle yellow light across them.
He pulled back for a moment to look into her eyes. They opened back at him, filled with trust and desire. And amusement. So she wanted to play with him. He could do that. He smiled at her. "Oh. Yes," he began, then rolled off her and propped himself up on his elbow at her side. "Well, a woman like you should be valued for her intelligence," he said. He punctuated this statement by running his free hand up the silky skin of her arm, to the strap of her blue dress. He teased it with his fingers, slipping them under the material to trace the hollow between her shoulder and collarbone.
"Mmm-hmm," she said, closing her eyes and relaxing beneath his caress.
"And she should be valued for her courage, as well," he continued, enjoying the game. He skimmed his fingertips beneath the cloth, down, to brush over the swell of bosom above her décolletage. It was too inviting. He leaned over to cover it with his mouth, breathing hotly against the skin, while his hand slipped down to grasp the weight of her breast gently. Delight absorbed him as he felt the hard nub of her nipple, teasing the sensitive skin of his palm through the cloth.
"Mmmm," was her answer to that.
"And," he breathed, dragging his lips back up her throat, over her chin, across her lips, and away. He looked down at her again, admiring the way the lashes of her closed eyes fluttered on her cheeks, and how her skin had flushed from his caresses. "For her hard work," he said, and ran his hand down over her hips to grasp the hem of her dress. He pulled it up, slowly, past her waist, exposing slim thighs, a cute little navel and the most ridiculous pair of scanty undergarments he had ever seen. He smothered a grin and stroked her belly, feeling the flutter of muscles play beneath his fingertips.
"Yes," she said, eyes still closed, one hand behind his head, playing with the strands of his hair.
"And for her impeccable taste in clothing," he chuckled softly, and slithered his fingers under the gauzy material.
"Oh! You--" she laughed, her eyes snapping open to glare at him. "Ohhh…" she trailed off, as his skillful fingers delved through soft curls into the warm, moist valleys between her thighs. Her hand in his hair clenched, pulling it.
"Ouch," Obi-Wan mumbled, then leaned in to cover her mouth with his own. His head wasn't the only thing that hurt. His trousers were becoming increasingly uncomfortable. But for the moment, he concentrated on Hermione and her pleasure with him. He sent his fingers on an exploration of her depths, teasing the petal-soft skin, tasting her moans. He enjoyed the quick rise and fall of her abdomen as it brushed against the heel of his hand. His exploring fingers found the tiny nub at her apex, and he brushed it, gently, once, then again.
"Oooh," she murmured against his lips, and arched her back towards him, against the arm that lay pressed against her stomach.
Obi-Wan took this for approval. So he kept on doing it. He pulled his lips away from hers to glide over her chin, down to nibble at the sensitive spot where her throat met her shoulder blade. A light sheen of sweat coated her skin, and he savored the salty taste, and the pulse beating rapidly beneath his tongue. He could feel her body tensing, muscles taut with anticipation, as his fingers delved deeper, exploring her secrets, curling deep inside to catch the tiny ridges, buried deep in warmth and—
"Oh… Oh!" she yelped into his hair, and she arched into his hand as her muscles clenched around his invading fingers. Just the feel of it sent another jolt of painful desire through him, as his mind pictured where else he could feel that delightful heated, repeated contraction.
But that would have to wait for a bit, now. Obi-Wan let his hand and lips linger, infinitely patient, while her climax subsided, enjoying the taste and feel of her pleasure. After a minute or two, when her breathing had returned to something approaching normal, he lifted his head to perch it on his bent arm again, and looked down to see her reaction.
"Wow," Hermione's lips murmured. Her blue eyes opened and searched for his. "Did you do some Jedi thing, there?" she asked, grinning up at him stupidly.
"Not at all," Obi-Wan chuckled. He felt a disgustingly male satisfaction at her relaxed bliss. His free hand toyed with her navel.
"Oh. Okay," she answered, and blew out a sigh. Then she glanced down at herself, and her face flushed charmingly. "Hey. I'm still dressed. Mostly."
Obi-Wan smiled and snuggled down next to her, enjoying her silliness, and ignoring the painful throbbing in his groin. "So you are," he murmured into her ear.
To his surprise, she sat up and glared down at him in what looked like exasperation. "Well, get your clothes off. I'm looking forward to learning more about how you treat your women."
Obi-Wan didn't want to argue with that. He was looking forward to it, too. He rolled off the edge of the bed, landing on his booted feet, and began to unwrap his tunics. First the underbelt hit the floor, then the shoulder sash, then the over-robe. He supposed he should fold them neatly somewhere, but at the moment, he really didn't feel like messing with it.
Rustling noises from the area of the bed reached his ears. Obi-Wan pulled his head through his undertunic, and glanced over. He was surprised to find Hermione already completely, delightfully naked, arms and legs flung out to the corners of the bed, a blissful smile resting on her face.
He admired her for a moment before speaking. "You look like you're waiting to be ravished," he told her, laughing.
She lifted her head and fixed a impatient blue eye on him. "Oh, hurry up and get your clothes off," she ordered, and lolled back, staring at the ceiling.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered, and hurried to comply. Boots, boots… Obi-Wan twisted and sat on the bed next to her splayed body, feeling the mattress give under his weight. He pulled off his boots, one after the other, and suddenly felt fingers on his back, her light touch, gliding up and down the ridges of his spine. It sent new chills flying over his skin, and made the ache just a little bit more unbearable. He was going to have to be careful if he wanted to do this properly. He flopped back onto her roving fingers, stilling them, and pulled down his trousers, kicking them to the floor.
"Uhh," he released in a heavy breath, and pulled his head from her stomach to roll himself back on the bed, and on top of her soft curves. Skin to skin now, with no clothing between them, the renewed contact was excruciating. He tried to push himself against her, trying to still the throbbing pain, but being closer only made it worse. Breathing was impossible. Every inhalation intensified the contact, sliding him against the sweat-slicked skin of her thigh…he had to make this quick…
"All right," he forced out, arms trembling as he tried to prop himself above her. "If you are to be properly appreciated, a man needs to exercise restraint--"
"Oh, skip all that," she whined, and locked her thighs about his hips and dug her fingers into his back.
"Angh!" tore from his throat at this new torture. He tried to steady his breath. "No. I need to--"
"Oh, shut up, Obi-Wan," Hermione moaned. With a strength he hadn't realized her small body possessed, she shoved him off her, onto his back, and threw a leg over to straddle him. She grabbed his swollen member to steady it and slid herself down, pushing down on top of him, around him, as far as she could go.
A whimper was all Obi-Wan could manage at that. Her insides were still moist and slick from her earlier climax, and the enclosing pressure was acute, surrounding him, squeezing the life out of him. He thought he might die, if only she would move…
He dragged his gaze from their joined bodies and looked up to find her sitting there, head thrown back, eyes closed. She looked amazing, but her stillness was torment. "Mmmmm," she voiced appreciatively, and closed her eyes in silent ecstasy. He watched her slim hands slide up her belly, to her breasts, red nails fluttering over her own nipples intimately. "This is nice, just like this," she murmured.
"No." All Obi-Wan's earlier restraint flew out the door, whisked away into nothing. The throbbing ache confined so exquisitely inside her could no longer be neglected. He dug his fingers into her hips, and swung his leg to roughly knock her over and underneath him. He thrust his hips down, burying himself utterly. The blood roared through his veins like a wave, rushing through his eardrums. He dimly heard her moan beneath him as she wrapped her legs around his bottom, gripping him again.
He buried his face in her hair with a broken sigh and let his tensed muscles have their way, plunging inside and back in a primitive, ancient rhythm. The rushing filled his ears like a haze, drowning out all but the sound of her ragged breathing filling his ear, tiny slaps of skin against skin punctuating every thrust.
He moved inside her for minutes, hours, it seemed, before gravity filled him, and lethargy stole throughout his nerves, locking him down, and he couldn't move any more—
"Ohhhh!" A high, keening wail pierced his ear as Hermione peaked again, her moist heat gripping him, crushing him with her climax.
The feeling was even better than he'd anticipated. His taut muscles screamed, then slackened all at once. "Ah..huh…" he cried into her hair as release took control of his shuddering body. He collapsed, gasping, sapped of all strength.
He lay heaving atop her for a few moments, recovering, feeling their mutual sweat mingling between their entwined flesh. "Sorry," he finally murmured against her neck, meaning his impatience, lust, whatever. Wrapped in such a physical moment, his brain had gone wandering and didn't really want to come back.
He felt her throat rumble as she gave a tired giggle. "Whatever for? That was great."
"Oh, I don't know," he mumbled back and snuggled down into her. A vague wonder at what had possessed him slipped through his mind. No matter. He could make it up to her later. He thought maybe, given an hour or two to recuperate, he might be able to try that again.
"Mmm-hmm," was her sleepy reply.
A few minutes passed.
"Bweeep….Bweeep."
"What's that noise?" murmured Hermione.
"Huh?" asked Obi-Wan.
"Bweeep… Bweeep."
"Blast." Obi-Wan rolled off the bed to pick up his communicator from the floor. "What is it?" he answered, rudely.
"Master?" Anakin's tinny, doubtful voice came through the connection. "Master? Where are you?"
"What's wrong, Anakin?" Obi-Wan sighed into it resignedly.
"Master. Masters Windu and Yoda are requesting our presence in the Council chambers," the young man said. "When can you be here?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "Soon, Anakin. Wait for me in our quarters."
"Yes, Master," came back the relief-filled voice. There was a brief click as the connection cut from the other end.
Obi-Wan dropped the communicator back to the floor and stared at it for a moment. Then he raised his eyes to where Hermione curled on the bed, watching him.
"Gotta go, I take it?" she asked.
"Yes," he said and blew out his breath in a whoosh. She looked so inviting like that, with the curve of her hip bathed in light, those fingers playing with the sheets. He forced his eyes away. Then he bent to begin the task of replacing his wrinkled clothing. "If the Council has called, at this time, it must be important."
"I understand," she murmured. "I gotta be up early, anyway, to get that place running again."
"Yes," he said. And he could sense that she did understand. But that didn't stop him from feeling a little guilty about running out on her so suddenly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You apologize too much," she teased, as she watched him get dressed. "Just lock the door behind you."
"Of course," Obi-Wan said. Lightsaber, belt, boots, he enumerated to himself silently. Satisfied that he was fully dressed, he stepped over to lean in and give her a small kiss. "Goodbye."
"Bye," she mumbled, and rolled over, looking for all the galaxy like she was ready to sleep. Obi-Wan watched her for a short moment, then turned and wound his way back to the front room to retrieve his cloak.
He'd just opened the door and crossed the threshold when Hermione came bouncing, literally, from the bedroom after him. She threw her arms around him and gave him another quick kiss. "I'll tell Dex you said hi," she smirked, and pulled back to slap her hand on the inside keypad.
"Don't you dare--" Obi-Wan began, but found he was talking to a closed door.
He shook his head and started for the Temple at a jog.
END
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