Author: TemporaryUniverse
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn
Summary: Obi-Wan has never really been interested in sex. That's perfectly fine with him, but not everyone is so understanding. Luckily, Qui-Gon is there to reassure him.
Word Count: 2022

A.N. This one is... super personal for me. When I came out to my parents, I got a less than ideal and mildly aphobic response, so this is me giving Obi-Wan the support I wish I got, with a side of angst. Anyway ace!Obi-Wan is best Obi-Wan and no, I will not be taking any criticism.


"Obi-Wan!" He turned at the sound of his name and smiled when he saw who it was.

"Prince Nyjeeto." He bowed as the prince caught up to him and Nyjeeto rolled his eyes.

"I told you to call me Darin," he complained, throwing an arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders.

The padawan grinned teasingly. "Of course, Your Highness."

"Obi-Wan," Darin pouted dramatically, "stop being mean, I thought we were friends."

"What in the galaxy gave you that impression, my friend?" Darin shoved him away as they both tried to contain their laughter. They continued their way through the halls of the royal palace at a leisurely pace.

"Gardens?" Obi-Wan suggested. The hanging gardens on the southern side of the palace were peacefully beautiful, and Obi-Wan had felt drawn to them ever since his first visit.

"Fine by me." Darin shrugged as they turned in that direction. "I heard you're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yes. Master Qui-Gon says he isn't needed for negotiations anymore. We leave for our next assignment in the morning." It had been somewhat of a disappointment to arrive on the planet and learn that by law, only those over eighteen standard were allowed to participate in the political proceedings. A little less than two years too young, Obi-Wan had been delegated to spending the last four days as both extra protection and company to the likewise too young prince. They'd both been grumpy about being sidelined at first but had soon discovered a surprising amount in common and quickly became friends. Darin had turned out to be both mischievous and pragmatic, and though he was far more… tactile than Obi-Wan was comfortable with, he made up for it by sharing Obi-Wan's love of poetry and literature.

They had the gardens to themselves when they arrived, were free to wander as they liked, enjoying the vibrant greenery with dots of flowers in every imaginable color.

At the far end, a small, elegant veranda overlooked the neighboring river. The pair wandered over to it and Obi-Wan leaned against a column to watch the buzz of creatures at the water's edge. Insects with shimmering wings hummed through the air, small birds no larger than his thumb flitted about, and a wading bird of some kind hunted fish among the reeds.

"Obi-Wan?"

When he turned to look, Darin's lips suddenly closed over his own, his hands coming up to cup Obi-Wan's face. Stunned, it took Obi-Wan a few seconds to react. He shoved Darin back, breaking away from the kiss.

"What," Obi-Wan panted. "What are you doing?"

"Come on, sweetheart, I know you want to." His hands were still on Obi-Wan's cheeks. They burned from the contact.

"I'm… I don't think it's a good idea, Your Highness."

"Don't be such a tease, Obi."

"Please don't call me that." The only people to use that nickname for him were Bant, Quinlan, and sometimes his Master. It felt wrong to hear it from someone he'd known a few days.

"Why not? Is your name, isn't it?" He tried to kiss Obi-Wan again, pressing him against the pillar. Heart pounding not with excitement but something close to fear, he wrenched himself away, his instincts telling him to escape. Darin grabbed his arm, keeping him close.

"Let go of me, Darin." He didn't. Obi-Wan couldn't fight, not without causing a diplomatic incident by harming the Crown Prince, which would be disastrous this close to the end of the negotiations.

"Are you really refusing me? You can't expect me to believe you're not interested, not when you've been flirting with me this whole time."

"Flirting?" They were friends, how was being friendly flirting? He examined all of their interactions since they met but nothing they'd said or done together had been any different from what Obi-Wan would do with his friends at the Temple. "I'm not… I don't…" He floundered helplessly, entirely out of his depth.

"I promise I'll make it good, sweetheart. It's our last chance before you leave. We might never see each other again."

"Darin, I—I can't." Force, what was he supposed to say in this situation? How did he explain that he didn't see Darin, or anyone really, in that way? That even the idea of having sex made him feel ill, like a stone had settled in his gut?

"Are Jedi not allowed or something? No one has to know, Obi, I can keep a secret."

"Jedi aren't forbidden from—from intimacy," Obi-Wan said. The prince rolled his eyes.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I—"

He surged forward, connecting their mouths again, and the back of Obi-Wan's head smacked against the pillar. Darin pinned him there, tongue tracing the seam of his tightly shut lips, trying to force his way in.

Obi-Wan didn't want this. He didn't want to be here. He wished Qui-Gon would appear right then and tell him they had to go.

Finally, Darin retreated to breathe.

"Stop. Darin, please stop, I don't want to do this." He silently begged for that to be enough, for Darin to leave it there. Of course, he didn't.

"I'm the prince, how can you 'not want to' with me?"

"It's not… It's not you. I'm just… not interested in… in… sex."

"That's ridiculous! Everyone likes sex. Have you ever even done it before?"

"No, but—"

"Then how do you know you don't like it?"

"I just do!"

"Fine," Darin scoffed, releasing Obi-Wan's arm. "Don't know why I even bothered. There's something wrong with you, Kenobi." The prince shoved him into the pillar and stalked off through the garden.

Obi-Wan watched until Darin had disappeared around a corner, at which point he realized he was shaking. He wrapped his arms around himself and slid down the column. His eyes and chest burned and he squeezed harder as if he could hold himself together, choking back the tears.

Why couldn't he just have said yes? Maybe Darin was right. Maybe he would like it if he tried it. He was just being a coward. It was just sex.

He tried to imagine it. Tried to imagine them lying naked on Darin's bed, finding pleasure together, hot and sweaty and passionate. The only thing he felt was disgust.

He really was broken.

The tears he'd been keeping at bay burst free and he fought to breathe past them. His own lungs were suffocating him, refusing to move so that he could inhale.

It was too much, so many thoughts buzzing in his head that they just became white noise, and there was a rushing in his ears drowning it all out, drowning him. He dug his fingers into his hair, tugging at the short strands to stop himself from screaming.

"Obi-Wan? Padawan, what happened? What's wrong?"

Qui-Gon's question only made him feel worse; he didn't want his master to see him like this. He hid his face in his knees.

"Shh," Qui-Gon soothed, gently peeling away his painful grip on his hair and letting him hold on tight to his master's large hands, instead. "Breathe, Obi-Wan."

"Can't," he wheezed out.

"You can, it's okay. Do it with me, in… and out… You're okay." Obi-wan struggled to obey, wrestling himself. His entire body trembled with the first shuddering gasp.

"There you go, you can do it. In… and out…" He managed a second breath, only marginally more controlled than the previous. "Good, Padawan."

Obi-Wan latched onto the low cadence of his Master's voice as Qui-Gon continued to speak, grounding himself in the familiar tones and in the feeling of warm palms and calloused fingers. Breathe. He inhaled, concentrated on the coolness of the air as it entered his nose, the uneven rise and fall of his chest, the rush through his mouth as he exhaled. He breathed and Qui-Gon breathed with him and the world gradually grew still and quiet.

"Tea?" Qui-Gon asked gently, unwilling to disturb the calm they'd achieved.

Obi-Wan nodded. Sniffling, he used his sleeves to dry his eyes, too muddled to care about fastidiousness. What he really wanted was to find some out-of-the-way corner and cry until he couldn't anymore, but tea would have to do. His master stood and helped him up, and they began the long walk to their guest quarters, Qui-Gon's arm wrapped around him.

Qui-Gon led him straight to the couch before setting about preparing the tea. Obi-Wan watched him, sinking into the overly plush cushions with a tired sigh.

Everyone likes sex.

He groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, hard enough to see red. He was not going to cry again.

"Here, padawan."

He lifted his head to find his master in front of him, holding out a cup of tea and wearing a concerned expression. He took the tea and cradled the warm ceramiplast gratefully.

"Thank you." Obi-Wan stared down at the cup, watching the steam curl up from the amber surface as Qui-Gon sat down beside him. It scalded his tongue and lips when he took his first sip.

Minutes passed in silence, the both of them drinking their tea, although Obi-Wan didn't really taste it. There was too much going on in his head. Qui-Gon let him brood until it became clear that Obi-Wan wasn't going to initiate the conversation. Then he sighed and set down his cup, fixing the young man with a stern look.

"Are you going to tell me what led to my padawan having a panic attack in the middle of the hall?"

Obi-Wan would rather not.

"Do you believe… Is there something wrong with me?" He asked warily and watched his master in his periphery as Qui-Gon raised a thoughtful finger to his chin.

"Did something happen to make you believe that?" Qui-Gon countered.

"He thought I was flirting," Obi-Wan blurted, the words leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He took another sip of tea to wash it away.

"Prince Nyjeeto? Were you trying to flirt?"

"No," he said, shaking his head emphatically. "No, I never—" He cut himself off, unsure about how to end that thought. "I assumed we were friends, but he just wanted to… to get me in bed with him." He grimaced.

"And that makes you uncomfortable." At Obi-Wan's slow nod, he tilted his head a bit and asked, "Why is that?"

"How can someone not want to ever have sex?" His hands were shaking, so he set down his tea before he spilled it. Tears pricked his eyes.

"Oh, Obi," Qui-Gon said softly. His master slid over next to him, his open arms an invitation. Obi-Wan went willingly, curling into the hug with a sob, ignoring the voice in his head that insisted he was too old to need hugs.

"I'm broken," he choked out. His head ached from the pressure of trying to hold back.

"Shh. No, you are not broken. There is nothing wrong with you, little one. Absolutely nothing." The rumbling of Qui-Gon's deep voice in his chest soothed as well as his assurances did. Qui-Gon's hand came up to stroke his hair.

"Aren't I supposed to want it?"

"I don't. Is there something wrong with me?" It took a moment for the words to register, but then they startled him enough to halt the tears. Still hiccupping, his cheeks burning and wet, Obi-Wan tilted his head back to look at his master.

"You—what?"

"I'm asexual, Obi-Wan. I don't experience sexual attraction. I prefer not to engage in more than kissing with someone." Obi-Wan blinked.

"Really? But, you, um, you and Master Tahl…" He would never forget the embarrassment of walking in on them, he hadn't been able to look his master in the eye for a week.

"Tahl and I did sleep together, yes. Even though I don't desire sex, I am not repulsed by it either. Tahl asked and because it was important to her, I agreed. But I know other Masters who feel as you do. Master Windu for one."

Obi-Wan could only gape. He hardly dared to believe, but Qui-Gon wouldn't lie to him.

"You are not alone, Padawan."

This time the tears he cried were of relief. Qui-Gon held him just the same.


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