Title: The Outer Rim Job
Summary: RPS in the Star Wars universe.
Disclaimer: Belongs to 'Flannel Man' (known in some circles as George Lucas.)
Warning: Self-edited. Please be kind to the fic. It's been left lonely and ignored for half a year, in my documents.
Notes: Also posted at AFF.N
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Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed, heavily, as he left the cockpit of the small Trek-V65 transport. A course had been set for Anakin's and his return to Coruscant. There was nothing to do, now, but wait the thirteen hours it would take to get there.
The mission to Kartreo had been a partial success... from an optimistic point of view. Obi-Wan had been sent to the primitive, densely forested, planet to offer an alliance with the Republic. The senate had opted to send Jedi as ambassadors partly because Obi-Wan was already greatly renowned as an excellent negotiator... But mostly because for the past few centuries all offers of peace had been returned... with the messenger's head. It was assumed that a Jedi might at least return intact. In that way it had been a partial success because the Jedi were, indeed, alive.
The assignment had not been happily received by Obi-Wan. Although Anakin (still impetuous, at seventeen years of age) had seemed more than up to it. At least until his master reminded him that even should the planet natives turn hostile, the Jedi were not permitted to harm them. In other words, "Fifty hours of meditation for every time you touch your lightsaber." For most padawans, just the thought of disappointing their masters would be more than enough to stay their hand. Anakin was incredibly difficult to guilt, however.
The two had lasted over twenty-four standard hours on the planet before the natives decided, unanimously, that they still didn't want to enter into any alliance. Obi-Wan and Anakin had only just escaped, un-skewered. Now that the planet had safely disappeared from view, and Obi-Wan had made his report to the council, all he wanted to do was relax.
Keying in the code to enter the small all-purpose cabin, he was greeted with a strange sight. Anakin was sitting cross-legged on the ground. His com pad balanced on one knee, and he had the right sleeve of his tunic crammed into his mouth, eyes watering just slightly as he shook.
"If you're hungry, Anakin, there's always the option of... 'food'." the apprentice lowered his hand, and sleeve, all signs of mirth disappearing in favor of acute embarrassment. The humiliation was so strong through their bond, that Obi-Wan found himself blushing.
"Anakin?" It was amazing how many questions one tone of voice could convey.
"I'm sorry, master. I was just reading something... funny." Obi-Wan brought his hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just slightly, in a pose he had actually practiced. The overall effect was to appear generally frustrated.
"I'm guessing the 'something' that amused you wasn't found while doing research on Quevic-9. Or have you forgotten, so soon, that we have a important mission to complete there in only a few weeks time?" Anakin's subtle shift told him all he needed to know.
"How many times have I told you, Anakin. The holonet should not be used as a toy. It is for furthering our knowledge to aid us on future missions. I would hate to think you're abusing the privilege of having your own com pad." Anakin knew that tone. If he allowed his master to continue, the lecture could last the better part of an hour. And he absolutely could 'not' tolerate that again.
"It's about you!" Obi-Wan stopped, and Anakin's eyes widened. He hadn't really thought through the consequences of blurting that out.
Obi-Wan stared at his padawan for a minute, struggling with his thoughts. He knew that he aught to continue with his lecture and rebuke Anakin for interrupting. What sort of example would he be setting if he admitted to his own curiosity. The words replayed in his head 'It's about you!', and curiosity won.
"...Oh?" Nothing more than an inviting word. Anakin knew it was an order.
"Well... uh, you see... It's a story... Not real, of course-" suddenly a blush overtook his padawan. "I don't think it's real, at least." and then a look of horror. "Not to say I doubt that it's false! What I meant to say wa-"
"Anakin. Please, hand me your com pad." Reluctantly, Anakin did so. Obi-Wan took the heavy tablet-looking device. What appeared to be a story covered the large screen. He began reading a random passage.
/-gasped as he was embraced by the other man. Strong dark arms encased the knight's lithe frame, fingers caressing pale skin. "Take me now. Take me hard!" Obi-Wan pleaded, eyes filled with a dark desire. Mace just laughed, voice low and seductive. "If you wish it-/
Anakin had been bracing himself, but he still flinched when Obi-Wan found his voice.
"What in the seven sith-spawned circles of hell! Who would write someth-" he stopped, and eyed Anakin suspiciously. His apprentice threw his hands up in a placating gesture.
"I swear to you, master. I didn't write it!"
"Someone did! How could they- and- WHY?" Anakin saw his chance, and boldly took it.
"Well, master. You're famous. Practically a mascot of the Jedi temple. So your image does find it's way around, quite a bit... and people believe you to be handsome... Apparently, this person also finds Master Windu good looking, and... I suppose it clicked in their minds that you two could-" he trailed off at Obi-Wan's look.
"They've written about me, too." Perhaps he'd thought that would help the matter. If Obi-Wan didn't feel singled out, he wouldn't care so much. How wrong he'd been.
"They've written about a seventeen year old 'BOY'?" Anakin bristled less at Obi-Wan's indignant tone, and more at his choice of words.
"I'm hardly a 'boy', master." but the petulance in his voice contradicted that. Obi-Wan hardly noticed his padawan had spoken.
"What else have they written about me?" instantly forgetting everything except the com pad in his hands, and the lightly glowing icon of the holonet, Obi-Wan sat cross-legged before his padawan, and began searching.
Three hours later, saw the two jedi in much the same way. Only, Obi-Wan was sprawled on the ground, now. Anakin was lounging on one of the the sleep couches, using Obi-Wan's com pad, and occasionally directing Obi-Wan to an interesting find.
"...One time, at Jedi camp... Oh, now really... As though I would do 'that' with my lightsaber..." Obi-Wan mumbled, scanning through yet another story. The majority seemed to be about him and Mace. A few had been of him and celebrities whose names half-recalled faces. There had been one archive with what seemed to be hundreds of stories involving him and Qui-Gon. He made a mental note to save that archive, and read each of them, later on... Just out of curiosity, of course. Anakin chuckled, peering down at his master.
"You should see what this person wrote about me. Apparently, I'm suspended in air... being attacked by rabid Twilek dancers. Could be worse, I suppose..."
"Oh, Holy Force!"
"What?"
"Stories about 'us'."
"Yes, that's what we've been reading for some time now..."
"No. I mean stories about the both of us, 'together'." In a moment, Anakin had twisted himself off the couch, landing with a thud. He crawled over to Obi-Wan, looking over his masters' shoulder.
"The Outer Rim Job?"
"By ForceJockee69..." Obi-Wan added. As one, they began reading the lengthy story.
"Oh... Nice... me risking my life to come back and save you..." Anakin grinned, letting his chin rest lightly on his master's shoulder. His neck was getting stiff, from the constant craning.
"This story makes me sound like an inept youngling." Obi-Wan sulked, not noticing Anakin's new position.
"It's not your fault... You were hit by a toxic dart. And only because you were saving 'me' from it. Rather thoughtful of you..."
"Well, you 'are' always in the wrong place at the wrong time- oh... look, you actually managed to keep hold of your saber."
"Shh..." Anakin rebuked. He read, eagerly, a smile covering his face, as 'he' won in a desperate battle to free Obi-Wan. His enemy, it appeared, was cut to pieces... and then some more, just in retaliation for his "lover's" suffering.
Obi-Wan went to touch the screen, and move on to the next chapter, but Anakin reached out, stilling his hand.
"Wait. I'm not done yet... Okay, now." he left his hand where it was, holding Obi-Wan's wrist, loosely. This time, the older jedi 'was' all too aware of his close proximity to his padawan. Anakin seemed oblivious, eyes already scanning the screen, and Obi-Wan, reluctantly, turned his attention back to the pad.
The story continued with the two battered lovers stealing a ship, and heading back to the Jedi temple. 'Obi-Wan' was reluctant to face his padawan and all the concerned questions... until finally, he was drawn into a fierce kiss. They ended up rolling around on the floor.
The real Obi-Wan was incredibly, 'PAINFULLY' aware of his padawan's heavy breathing in his ear, and the now scalding touch of skin against his wrist. He wanted desperately to move, or shift, but Anakin was so enthralled with the story that he hadn't noticed his master's growing discomfort... and arousal. Any slight movement might give it away.
The story ended with an amazingly described series of kinky positions, and a shouted proclamation of love. Both simply stared at the com pad for a long moment after they'd finished.
"Obi-Wan?" Anakin's voice was strained and husky.
"Yes, Anakin?" his was hardly any better.
"Do you think we could find a story, where 'I' am on top?" Obi-Wan considered their positions, again... what with Anakin half-draped over him. That was going to be a tricky question to answer.
The End
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