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Chapter Fourteen

"And That's How It's Done"

"Did you drop something?"

The question the Senator had asked was both unexpected and a relief. Maybe she wasn't so upset after all! Could she possibly be that lucky?

"Because I can't imagine what you would be doing crawling around on the floor unless you were looking for something."

"I…" the assistant managed before being interrupted.

"Unless, of course, you were eavesdropping; trying to overhear what Obi-Wan and I were talking about, but I know you wouldn't stoop that low."

Dormé swallowed hard.

"So, we're just going to assume you dropped something. All right?"

Had she hit her head on the floor?

The Senator then leaned over and whispered low. "I suggest you get up, and if I ever catch you monitoring my private conversations again, I'll have you scrubbing the Senate toilets. Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Anakin rose first, offering his hand to lift Dormé from the floor. Apparently, the subject was closed, and he was glad, although he was sure his Master was going to have something to say.

"Padawan?"

Here it came.

"Yes, Master?"

"I need your help. Before Padmé and I 'get down to business'," he paused to wink at Dormé. "I would like to clean up. Mind helping me into the shower?"

He couldn't believe it! Was his Master still feverish and hallucinating?

She couldn't believe it! The change of subject and avoidance of any repercussions for their actions led Dormé to believe that, whether she had been able to hear anything or not, something had happened between those two! There was no other explanation for their irregular behavior and for what Master Kenobi had just said!

While Anakin aided his Master into the bathing room, Padmé walked into the common area with Dormé.

"I expect dinner to be served in less than an hour," the Senator firmly commanded as she headed toward her comm station, most likely to check messages.

And that was that. And it was so easy, Dormé was not about to complain. They usually took turns making the meals, and she had cooked the last one, but she wasn't stupid. She did exactly as she was told and marched into the kitchen.

Soon, Anakin escorted a much cleaner, robed Obi-Wan into the common room and helped him get comfortable on the sofa facing the veranda. Padmé opened the veranda doors to allow some fresh air, regardless of their quarantine status. She then joined Obi-Wan on the sofa while Anakin went to assist Dormé in the kitchen.

"This has a nice texture," Obi-Wan pointed out, rubbing the material of Padmé's dressing robes he was wearing between his forefinger and thumb. She would have to remember to have his uniform cleaned before morning, or else he would be forced to wear one of her senatorial gowns. The picture of it in her mind brought a smile to her face. "What is it?"

"This particular frock is made from Killik silk, hand-embroidered." Padmé reached forward a hand which suddenly had an unmistakable tremor, she could not disguise. "This line of gold flowers," she explained, as her finger trailed along the sash which ran down the front of his muscular chest, "represents the Golden Era of The Colony, when the Senate accepted its petition to join the Republic. This robe was a gift from the First Killik Nest, since I was the representative sent there to accept their petition."

As she spoke, her words slowed as her heartbeat increased, and when Obi-Wan's own hand, resembling her own shaking one, reached up and grasped hers, her heart skipped a beat.

"It's a remarkable garment, smooth and silky to touch, but not nearly as soft as this."

Without taking his eyes from her face, Obi-Wan lifted her hand to his mouth and caressed her knuckles with his lips.

Dormé often teased her about her supposed obsession with acquiring gowns made of only the finest materials; the richest Aiean silks, Demicot satins, and Ottegan velvets. His beard tickled, but she had never felt anything so luxurious as Obi-Wan's lips upon her skin.

"And that," Dormé proclaimed from behind the kitchen divider she was peeking through, "is how it's done!" She punched Anakin in the arm for emphasis.

"What are you talking about?" the young man protested. "You call that a kiss? And what kind of pick-up line was that?"

Dormé sniggered as she returned to the evening's meal preparations.

"What's so funny?" the young man followed her, apparently now slightly offended.

In a deep, mimicking voice, Dormé answered. "I don't like sand, it's coarse and irritating, and it gets everywhere…" The young woman chuckled once again. "You're lucky I thought you were cute."

Without warning, Dormé's arm was caught from behind and she found herself being twisted away from the oven, into the arms and up against the firm body of a virile Jedi Apprentice.

"Let me show you what a real kiss is."

She knew there was so much wrong in the galaxy, so much hatred and hurt, death and disease, and yet in this moment, in this place everything was right.

Obi-Wan's arm was about her shoulders, their feet were propped on the occasion table, their free hands clasped, and together, they were watching the bright lights of the traffic whizzing by. At one time, Padmé thought the traffic was an annoyance, and it had taken her quite a while to get used to the incessant noise. This particular night, and possibly for the first time since moving to Coruscant, she thought the lights were quite lovely; the mixtures of blues, greens, yellows, and reds, smearing their ribbons of color across the starless sky.

"Are you getting hungry?" she asked as their bare toes playfully knocked together.

"Somewhat, although I'm quite comfortable right here. I might have to get myself one of these gowns, though." Obi-Wan answered.

"You should," Padmé teased . "You look ravishing in it."

"Why, thank you." Obi-Wan smiled, though quickly squinted with disgust. Padmé soon imitated him. "What's that smell?"

"I'm not sure," she replied, reluctantly sitting up to turn around toward the kitchen, where an unmistakable curl of gray smoke was issuing out over the kitchen divider.

Just as she was about to bound toward the kitchen, prepared to douse an apparent fire, Anakin and Dormé burst through, carrying a tray of noticeably charred food. However, her attention wasn't focused on what they were all apparently expected to eat, but on the presentation of the young couple themselves. The two were completely disheveled!

Obviously, their dinner wasn't the only thing that had been heating up in the kitchen!

"Let's order out," Obi-Wan suggested.