Ok, wow! No Obi/Ani this time, sorry, but Quin/Mace. No, don't worry, I'm not leaving my two boys behind, ever!

This is an answer to the swmythology lj community. It's a four part story, each chapter answering one theme. This one: #8: Theogony (Begginings).

Comfort

Chapter I: The first time

The first time, Quinlan was sitting at a barstool. He was leaning slightly forward, staring at a blue drink in a large glass, and smiling widely. It wasn’t a very uncommon image, but Mace supposed it wasn’t unwelcome either.

Mace walked towards the barstool himself, and slid on the sit next to Quinlan’s, raising his hand a little to drag the attention of the pretty barmaid. Once he had ordered, he looked at is own hands resting on the barstool, and proceeded to sulk.

“Well, hello, there.” Quinlan looked at him, but Mace didn’t correspond. “Don’t we look depressed tonight.” Mace shrugged almost imperceptibly, and Quinlan’s gaze went back to his own glass.

People knew knight Vos as that annoying brat who couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but Mace knew Quinlan knew exactly when to close his mouth. Just like now. Mace appreciated the shared silence. Perhaps, he thought, Quinlan was the best company he could have desired for such a night.

The silence stretched a little longer, and Mace decided to lift his face, with no purpose whatsoever. He found himself staring at Quinlan, slightly entranced by the colour of his skin, and the contrasts it created with the yellow mark he sported on his face. It was something he usually did – stare at Quinlan’s yellow line. He liked the way it contorted with his features, and how easily it seemed to change from one tone to another. Quinlan had probably noticed; he was perceptive like that.

“How do you do it?” asked Mace, after a few more seconds of scrutiny. Quinlan looked at him, a question in his features, but he waited for him to decide when to explain. “Smile. No matter what. You’re always smiling.”

Quinlan smirked. “Part of my charm, I guess.” Mace nodded unconsciously, looking forward when a drink was put in front of him. He clutched it in his hand, and took a large swig. “Not pacing ourselves tonight, are we?”

“No, not tonight,” answered Mace, after he was done coughing – he had never been too good at this getting drunk thing.

“Let’s get a table then.”

“What?”

“A table, master Windu. Wooden surface, you know? That comes in different shapes?” Mace huffed, and Quinlan just smiled at him. “Come on.”

Mace shrugged one more time, standing up and following Quinlan once he had yelled at the barmaid to ‘keep them coming’. Oh, he was going to get wasted tonight.

Sitting at the table across Quinlan, he went back to sulking. Or perhaps it was more like brooding this time. He just wasn’t used to this stupidly absurd kind of moods.

“Care to explain good, old Quin what’s going on?”

“I’m older than you, Quinlan,” pointed Mace, resting his head on his hand.

“Just a manner of speaking, mate.” Mace nodded again, this time regretting it when his head started to pound. He was truly bad when it came drinking.

He looked at Quinlan again, who just stared back at him, waiting. Mace considered the situation, wondering exactly if his life was something he should share with this man. Even after saving him from a sure turn to the Dark Side, Quinlan and him didn’t have what could be considered a relationship. The fact that the young man fascinated him was a complete different story.

But Quinlan kept looking at him, all big brown eyes and sweet smile. Damn manipulative bastard.

“Qui-Gon,” Mace blurted, suddenly. Quinlan simply raised both eyebrows, questioningly. “Falling in love with his padawan.”

“Ah.” Quinlan leaned back, nodding. Apparently Mace had been the only one who hadn’t seen it.

“Then again, who can blame him?” Mace sighed, and Quinlan kept nodding.

“Now I get the circles under your eyes. Don’t look good on you, you know?” Mace huffed, wondering at which point he had though telling Quinlan about this was a good idea. “I’m far more fond of the badass look.” It was time for Mace to raise his eyebrows in an unspoken question. “You know, that way you look when someone’s been mischievous, as if saying ‘are you talking to me, motherfucker?’” Mace spit his drink, and Quinlan laughed.

“I would certainly never talk like that.” Quinlan chuckled, and Mace suspected it had a lot to do with the expression on his own face.

“It’s a cool image.” Mace just shook his head. “You should get yourself a tattoo that said BMF, Mace; you would scare the younglings even more than you do now.”

“I do not scare the younglings, and I will not be–”

“Right here.” Mace looked at his hand between Quinlan’s, and saw him lift his sleeve slightly, almost as if that arm belonged to someone else.

Mace looked up and into Quinlan’s eyes, lowering his gaze quickly, suddenly scared of what was hidden behind brown orbs. He didn’t need to look at his arm to know Quinlan’s fingers were on his wrist, but he still did. Tanned fingertips caressed the underside of his wrist, teasing with their light touch.

“I bet it would look great, mate.” Mace swallowed, unsure of what exactly was going on in there.

And then, Quinlan’s lips were on skin, kissing softly the wrist his fingers had touched. As if they burned, Mace brought his hand to his chest, looking then at Quinlan. The knight just smiled at him.

“Let’s get out of here.” Mace didn’t move, watching Quinlan’s lips with a strange sensation of unreality. “I better take you homenow that you can stillwalk.”

“I… I think I’m going to stay here.” Mace coughed, recovering the severe tone of his voice. He shook his head, and returned his hand to the table, where it clutched the edge unconsciously.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Quinlan, I’m sure.” Quinlan smiled at him, and Mace found himself wondering why exactly.

“Fine. I’ll be leaving, then.” Mace nodded, releasing an unconscious sigh. When he looked up, Quinlan was still there.

Such a strange character, knight Vos.

Mace knew there was a lingering question in the air, an invitation perhaps, but he stayed silent. So did Quinlan. But after a few seconds of heavy breathing, the younger knight leaned his forehead on his, holding his head with both hands. Mace didn’t try to move, enthralled by the feral look on those eyes he knew so little about.

“’Nighty night, Macey.” And with that, Quinlan left the place.

Mace went back to his sulking.