Some Like It Jedi

Qui-Gon went into Mos Espa with his apprentice and the Queen's handmaiden. Jar Jar had lost the coin toss, and was under strict orders to behave, not trip over anything, and donate organs to pay for anything he damaged after he tripped anyhow. Obi-Wan was happy to be going with his Master -- Qui- Gon could feel the excitement bubbling inside. Or maybe it was the in-flight lunch.

"We must be cautious," Qui-Gon warned his party. "Mos Espa is a wretched hive of scum and villainy."

"That sounds cool," Obi-wan said. "Can I use that sometime?"

"No, Padawan." Qui-Gon tried to frown seriously. The vista behind him was spreading out quite majestically and he knew that if anyone looked over at him at that moment they would be awed by the grandeur and drama of the moment.

"Look!" Obi-Wan suddenly bent down and picked something up. He dusted it off and showed it to the Queen. Queen's handmaiden. Whoever. She looked at it politely, but Qui-Gon saw her nose wrinkle. "It feels funny. I wonder if it's alive?" Obi-Wan continued, turning the small blue object over in his hands.

"I think it's Bantha poodoo, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, disappointed that his moment had been lost.

"Ick!" Obi-Wan dropped the object and wiped his hands on his robe. Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.

"Now," Qui-Gon tried to re-establish direction for their venture into town. "We must seek out a parts dealer." They had reached the edge of town.

"Where shall we begin?" Padme asked, looking around. Again her nose was wrinkling. Qui- Gon wondered if the girl ever got out of the castle.

"That way," Obi-Wan pointed.

"How do you know?" she asked uncertainly.

"Because the Force tells me that is the way."

Qui-Gon cleared his throat and gave his apprentice a brief glare. Force nothing, he had read the advertisements and street signs as well as Obi-Wan. But he said nothing and Padme at least looked a little impressed. They headed down the street and began checking out window displays.

Finally they came upon a shop that seemed to have what they were looking for.

"Qui-Gon, can I go next door while you're shopping?" Qui-Gon looked to where his apprentice was pointing. It was a bar. "We don't have time, Obi- Wan."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon hid his satisfied smile. They actually had plenty of time, but he so loved hearing his Padawan say 'yes, master' in that soft, acquiescent tone of voice. He led the other two inside the shop and found a young boy, fairly vibrating with the Force, playing on the counter. The boy looked up at them.

"Can I help you?"

"We seek the grail. Are you he?" Qui-Gon found himself saying. At the boy's confused look, he shook his head and tried again. "We're looking for a part for our ship. Big ship, big part, very important. Lots of money. Got one?"

"Lemme get Watto." The boy hopped down and ran into the back. Qui-Gon nodded to himself, and glanced over his shoulder. Padme was trying not to touch anything. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was squatting in front of a droid-like object and waving his fingers in front of its face.

"Obi-Wan, stop that."

"I wasn't doing anything, Master."

"Don't touch anything." Qui-Gon reminded him, and turned his attention to the flying bug that appeared to be in charge.

"Whaddya want?" the bug asked.

"We seek the gr- I mean, we need a part for our ship." Qui-Gon held out the holo-projector and showed the bug a picture of the ship. "We got lotsa parts. We got parts for everything. What part you need?"

"Umm...." Qui-Gon tried frantically to remember what the engineer had said. "It's the... doohickey that goes here," he finally pointed to a section of the ship. "It's long and has a handle like this," he waved his hands, sketching in the air. "And it beeps whenever we're about to blow up."

"Oh, yeah. Got one o' them, sure. But it's a lot of money and I'm the only one in town who's got one."

"Really? Perhaps we should shop around first, and get a comparison pricing." Qui-Gon shut the holo-projector off before it could cycle into the next round of images, namely Obi-Wan sans clothing in various suggestive positions.

"You don't need to look elsewhere," the shopkeeper bug said.

"We don't?"

"No, you don't," Watto repeated. Qui-Gon found himself nodding. "We don't... fine, then, how much?" He ignored Padme's whispering to Obi-Wan, as it sounded vaguely like "don't break it!".

"How much you got on you?"

"5,000 credits."

Watto shook his head regretfully. "Won't be enough. Sure, you can buy the part, but the labour? The warranty? Gonna cost you extra."

"How much extra?"

"Hmmm." The bug thought it over. Behind him, the boy waved discreetly to catch Qui-Gon's attention.

"Hey mister! Mister!"

Qui-Gon looked his way, pretending to listen to Watto as he rattled off numbers.

"Can I ride in your ship, sir?"

Qui-Gon frowned. "We can't take you, you're a slave. True, you seem very important somehow... but I can't just take you without good reason."

Watto suddenly named a price and Qui-Gon gaped.

"But we don't have that much on us!"

"Then you'll have to sell your speeder, or something. There's a pawn shop down the street."

"We don't have a speeder, either."

The boy suddenly ran up. "I have an idea! I could race my pod racer tomorrow and you can sponsor me. If I win, you can take the winnings and pay off Watto. You could also cheat at dice and win me, as well! I'm a slave, you know."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "Watto? How does that sound to you?"

But Watto was looking at something else with a very thoughtful expression. "Nah. Pod racing's for kids. You want real money, you gotta go for the grown-ups with cash." He looked at Qui-Gon and grinned. "But I tell ya what. I like the looks of your friend over there. If he'll dance for a private party I'm having next door, I'll give you the parts, *and* labour. You pay only the warranty and taxes."

"Jedi don't pay taxes." Qui-Gon frowned.

"So we pocket the difference, who's to know? What d'ya say? Is it a deal?"

Qui-Gon looked at the boy who was staring up at him with huge pleading eyes. Then he looked back at Obi-Wan, who was craning his neck to see past a pile of junk. Pod race, or dance. "What kind of party?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Strictly voyeuristic, I assure you. Nobody has to touch nothing... unless you want them to. Tips are better that way but, between you and me, those Hutts have kinda slimy mitts."

"Can I watch?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Sure! The more the merrier. Bring your queen, too."

Qui-Gon held out his hand. "It's a deal."

"Perfect! Hey, come on, no time to waste." Watto flew off towards the bar next door. Qui-Gon gathered Obi-Wan and Padme and herded them after the bug.

"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan asked, puzzled.

"We're trading service for the parts we need."

"What sort of service?" Padme asked with suspicion.

"Don't worry, your maj-- uh, Padme. Obi-Wan can handle it."

"I can?" Obi-Wan's eyes went wide. They went into the bar, and saw Watto speaking to the bartender. There was a crowd of revelers filling the joint, drinking and shouting and generally having a good time. Obi-Wan started to grin enthusiastically. "Do we get free drinks, too?"

"Padme and I do. You'll be working," Qui-Gon said.

Watto flew back and announced, "It's set! They're clearing the floor. There's costumes in the back, feel free to pick out anything."

"Huh?" Obi-Wan asked the bug.

"Costume! Hey, unless you wanna dance naked. That's fine by us. Leave you no place to stick your tips, though."

"Dance?" Obi-Wan turned to his Master as the situation dawned on him. "I'm going to dance?" he repeated in disbelief.

Qui-Gon shrugged. "It was that or sit through a pod race. I'd rather watch you dance, Padawan."

Obi-Wan smiled very faintly. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon shivered. He *loved* that.

"What costume shall I wear?"

"How about something like those tights you wear for me? Those black things, and a leather vest?" Qui-Gon suggested. Padme suddenly looked very interested, and eyed Obi-Wan up and down, obviously trying to imagine what might be under those robes.

Obi-Wan blushed. "Actually, Master... I have them on now."

"You what?" Qui-Gon felt his jaw drop.

"I put them on this morning. I was going to surprise you later."

"You mean... you've been wearing them *all* *day*?"

Obi-Wan nodded.

Qui-Gon felt another shiver that went right to his cock and stayed there. "Strip, and dance," he commanded.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan gave a short bow, and headed towards the side of the stage. Padme and Watto settled themselves at the table front and center. Qui-Gon ordered drinks and joined them. Obi-Wan was hanging up his robes, removing clothing to reveal a skin-tight black T-shirt and tights. He left his boots on, removed something from a robe pocket, and walked calmly over to the stereo system. He inserted the disk and hit "play."

Qui-Gon recognised the music immediately and sat forward. It began slowly, and quietly. The bar patrons were watching with half-interest as Obi-Wan walked to the center of the stage in slow rhythm. He swayed his hips once to the beat of the music and Qui-Gon felt Padme's jaw drop. He pushed it gently back into place.

For a moment there was nothing but the slow beat and Obi-Wan swaying. Then he turned, the music sounded, and Obi-Wan began to dance the flamenco.

The music poured forth, and Obi-Wan stamped his feet and clapped his hands, turning and moving quickly and with surety. There was no Force involved, Qui-Gon knew; this was raw physical performance. Soon his Padawan began to glisten with beads of sweat; Qui-Gon thought of licking him clean but remained in his chair. Watto had not bargained for a free show. Though if the patrons began throwing tips....

Obi-Wan continued to dance and the strumming guitar filled the bar. Qui-Gon could feel the pounding rhythm in his chest and his cock. He wasn't the only one -- the stirrings in the Force and the smell of pheromones told him most of the other patrons were entertaining thoughts of leaping to the stage and wrestling Obi-Wan to the floor. Qui-Gon would have to be on-guard against any over-enthusiasm if he wanted to keep his apprentice to himself -- or at least unbruised.

The music came to a crescendo and Obi-Wan's body moved in perfect time. Twisting, circling, nearly flying as he danced, his entire body was thrown into the whirl of slapping beats. He spun once more and stopped, completely still, and it wasn't until a second later that anyone realised the music had ended.

The applause and rain of credits told Qui-Gon they would not be leaving anytime soon. It was a good thing a Jedi trained for stamina. Watto leaned over, smiling. "Looks like you'll be getting top of the line merchandise."

The following day -- late, as both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had slept in following a rigourous mattress-pounding induced by Qui-Gon's enforced observation of his apprentice's dancing for three hours -- the Jedi left their quarters to find out how the repairs were going. Members of the ship's crew greeted Obi-Wan with cheerful hellos, and requests if he would dance for them on the trip out to Coruscant.

Qui-Gon went to find Watto. He found the bug supervising the installation of a brand-new, Whomper-Domper Super 2000 doohickey. Watto flew over and greeted him heartily.

"Hey, Qui-Gon! They're still talking about Obi-Wan back in town. You guys gonna be staying another night? We could pull in the dough, split the tips 40/60!"

"I'm sorry, flying bug, but we have business to attend to. Maybe next time."

"You sure? We could do a lunch show. Not the same kinda crowd but hey, the way your boy moves it won't matter."

"I don't--" Qui-Gon stopped. Two figures were coming across the desert towards the ship. Watto turned, squinted, then cursed.

"What is that boy doing here? He's supposed to be watching the store!"

They waited until the boy and a young woman came up. The boy was panting hard from tugging at the woman to hurry. He looked up at Qui-Gon, big eyes pleading again.

"Yes?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Please, you've gotta take us with you. I'm supposed to be a Jedi and a pilot and all sorts of neat stuff. I can't if I'm just trained to be a store clerk."

Qui-Gon sighed. "We can't just pick up strays everywhere we go." He heard a snort of amusement from his apprentice and ignored it. Those bungabees had been *cute*, darnit, and no one was going to convince him it had been a bad idea to bring them to the Temple even if he had forgotten to bring a hive for them to live in. Master Windu had eventually gotten them out of his sock drawer, anyway.

"Please, mister? Please?" The boy clasped his hands together and gazed up at him.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "Very well. I can foist you off on Master George. He owes me a favour."

"Yipee!" the boy shouted.

Qui-Gon looked to Watto. "What do you want for the boy?"

"How about Obi-Wan for a week?"

"Just dancing?" Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed.

"Of course! What kinda bug do you think I am? Just dancing."

Qui-Gon considered it. He'd have to leave Obi-Wan here while they went to rescue Naboo... but the child *was* strong in the ways of the Force and Qui-Gon had a suspicion he ought to take the kid along.

"What about my mom?" the boy asked.

"Oh, yeah... what about his mom?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Tell ya what," Watto offered. "Make it two weeks, and I'll throw in the mom."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Excellent. Hey, kid, go tell Obi-Wan to pack a bag." Qui-Gon herded the boy towards the ramp and gave the boy's mother a kind smile. She seemed perplexed, but shrugged and headed after her son.

Obi-Wan took the news well.

"I *what*?!?"

"It's only for two weeks, Obi-Wan. You can stay out of trouble for two weeks." Qui-Gon was trying to hustle his apprentice off the ship so they could make preparations for taking off. He was feeling a massive disturbance in the Force and wanted out of there as quickly as possible.

"But two weeks? Master, I wanted to help save Naboo."

"You can help by staying here and dancing, Obi-Wan. Remember, it is a Jedi's place to serve."

"I told R2D2 I'd show him around Coruscant," Obi-Wan pouted. Qui-Gon wanted to grab that lower lip with his mouth and suck on it, but knew such things would not get them on their way.

"You can waste time with your friends later, Obi-Wan. Right now, I need you here."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon trembled. Beautiful.

"You'll be back in two weeks, won't you, Master?" Obi-Wan finally let Qui-Gon hand him his bag and herd him towards the ramp.

"Of course, Obi-Wan."

"You'll call this time if you're late?"

"I'll call!" Qui-Gon replied.

"You have a calling card?" Obi-Wan persisted.

"Er, not anymore. I'll call collect, all right?"

Obi-Wan frowned, but took a step down the ramp. "Two weeks, Master."

"Yes, yes, Obi-Wan. You worry too much. It's just little back-water Naboo. What can go wrong?"

Two weeks later, Obi-Wan was worried. His Master hadn't called, hadn't sent word, hadn't shown up. He'd tried calling the Temple but the receptionist just took messages and never put his calls through. He was about to pack his bags and dance his way off Tattooine.

Fortunately, two days later, Qui-Gon strode into Obi-Wan's dressing room in the back of the bar.

"Master! Where have you been?" Obi-Wan reproached.

"Sorry, Obi-Wan. Post-mission reports, you know? Took longer than I thought."

"You're all right? What happened? I heard on the news that Naboo was freed and the Trade Federation was run out of the system."

"Yes, yes, look I'll tell you all about it on the trip home. I've missed you, Padawan."

Obi-Wan smiled. "I've missed you, too, Master." He raised himself up on his toes and gave his Master a light peck on the lips. "But what happened?"

"Oh, the usual. We snuck in, gathered the locals into an army, attacked the bad guys, freed the Nabooans. Nabooians? Nabooites? Whatever. Typical stuff. Nothing you'd make a movie about."

"Then why are you worried?" Obi-Wan could feel his Master's preoccupation. He could feel his Master's body, too, pressed up against his, but that would have to wait. Obi-Wan was exhausted from that afternoon's performance.

"Well, the Jedi Soothsayers foresaw a battle with a Sith. But one never showed up. We don't know what happened."

"Oh." Obi-Wan giggled. "I know what happened. Come on." He took his Master's hand and led him towards the public area of the bar. He stopped near the door, and pointed to a red-faced horny figure sitting at a corner table.

"That's him?"

"That's him. He's been watching me dance every afternoon and night, for the last two weeks."

Obi-Wan grinned as his Master stared at the Sith. The dark apprentice was wearing his tight black pants and a t-shirt which read, "My Master Took Over the Senate and All I Got Was This Lousy T- Shirt". He'd been worth a lot of extra tips -- apparently the dark side paid better than the light.

"Huh," was all Qui-Gon said.

"So are we going?" Obi-Wan finally prodded his Master.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Come on, Obi-Wan."

On the way back to the ship, Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon his plans. "When I pass my trials next year I'm going to take a few months off. Watto wants me to come back and dance. I could make a lot of money." Qui-Gon gave him a disapproving look, and Obi-Wan continued hurriedly. "Not for my own profit, of course, Master. But my little brother wants to move to Tattooine and start a moisture farm. I though this would be a good way for Owen and I to spend some time together. We've never really had a chance to bond, you know, what with me leaving to become a Jedi at such a young age. And you can't really get to know someone at family reunions. But he can dance too, and we thought we'd work for a while and raise the money so he could buy a farm."

"You've already talked to him?"

"Oh, yeah. His fiancee thinks it's a stupid idea, but we're going to do it anyway. She wants a farm, too, so I think she'll come around. Watto already has us booked."

"I see." Qui-Gon sounded thoughtful. Then, "You'd need a manager."

"Oh, uh..." Obi-Wan squirmed, then said carefully, "Master, no offence but you're not very good with money. And Master Yoda already kinda asked if he could. He can play the finger cymbals, you know. We thought we'd dance to live music sometimes if we can find a guitarist."

"I see." Qui-Gon said quietly.

"Would you like to be our bouncer?" Obi-Wan suggested.

Qui-Gon slowly smiled. "Could I?"

Obi-Wan returned the smile. "Yes, Master." He hid a grin of triumph as his master reacted. If Qui-Gon only knew how easily he was wrapped around Obi-Wan's finger with a mere two words....

As they boarded the ship, Qui-Gon called out to the pilot they were ready, and began eagerly removing his apprentice's clothing. Obi-Wan tried to fend him off long enough to close the ramp and door.

As they lay in a tangled heap on the floor just inside the hatchway, Qui-Gon said sleepily, "You know, I've been thinking of getting a theme song."

"A theme song, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, equally sleepy. His head was pillowed on their piled robes, and his leg was slung over his Master's.

"Yeah. Wanna hear?" Without waiting for a response Qui-Gon began to sing. "I'm Qui-Gon the Mighty, master of piety, with Obi-Wan my sidekick, fighting with his lighted stick. We use the Force, it's everywhere, so Evil Siths had best beware!"

Obi-Wan buried his face in his Master's chest... and bit.

"Ow! Was that necessary?"

"Yes, Master."

"... oh. OK."

Obi-Wan smiled, and fell asleep.