I hope you'll forgive me, but I needed a break from the angst! Special thanks goes out to my supa-fine Jedi Sis Alchemy Dream for literally giving me what has become the soundtrack for this fic as I write it, and giving me the idea that it might be time to try a bit of humour again. And as always, thank you Xtine for being a patient and easily amused beta.

Come on, you know you all want to party with the Jedi! Warning: Rampant HJL ahead, but not with the pairing you might be expecting (at this point). Just a friendly notice! Enjoy! --TM

Knights Out

Part 1: Get This Party Started

"I'm comin' up so you better get this party started…"

Damn straight, Anakin thought as he nodded his head in agreement. From the top of the stairs, the Jedi Padawan surveyed what could only be described as the biggest rave scene he had ever dreamed of. Wild coloured lights strobed around the room, casting huge distorted shadows on the walls, alternately spotlighting and hiding the writhing throng of partygoers on the dance floor. Anakin's deep blue eyes scanned the crowd as he felt his body unconsciously begin to move to the grinding beat. He licked his lips and grinned hugely; oh yes, it was definitely going to be a good party this year.

Force knew, he needed the distraction.

It was Knights Out, the hallowed— if somewhat underground— annual bash for all the Padawans who had ascended to Knighthood in the past year. Although certainly not openly endorsed by the Council or any self-respecting and proper Jedi Knight, it wasn't uncommon to find Council Members and other revered Masters dancing on tables, participating in and winning drinking contests, or snogging someone off in a corner at Knights Out. Organized by a semi-secret host each year, no one was actually ever invited to the party, but somehow word of the actual date and time seemed to fall on just the right ears.

Rumour had it that Master Vos was responsible for the festivities this year. Anakin knew that if Quinlan Vos was involved, it would definitely be a night to remember. After all, Master Vos had a reputation as a rogue Jedi with an irreverent attitude towards all things pertaining to propriety and the Jedi Code. He was also a good friend of Obi-Wan's; they had been friends since they were Padawans, though Anakin could hardly see how. Master Vos' more wild and reckless tendencies, it seemed, had never rubbed off on Anakin's always well-behaved Master. Too bad; I'm sure he could show my Master how to relax and have a good time, Anakin thought with frustration.

Looking around, Anakin saw no sign of Master Vos, but party was already in full swing. Padawans, the new class of Knights, and Masters all mixed together under the swirling lights and pounding music, undulating en masse in time to the heavy bass.

As one of the most senior Padawans, Anakin had no problem finding out the information. After all, he'd attended Knights Out since he was 17, totally without his Master's permission or knowledge. Anakin had to chuckle…as if straight-laced Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever even thought about attending Knights Out!

He could just imagine Obi-Wan reaction to such a party. He'd stand as tall as he could, (which really wasn't that much anymore, now that Anakin stood a good couple of inches over him), his arms folded into the sleeves of his robe, attempting to look commanding and authoritative. With a scowl and then a tug on his beard in a vain attempt to look severe and Masterly, he'd use that snotty "I'm-the-best-Jedi-in-the-galaxy-and-I-know-it" voice, telling Anakin that Knights Out was a 'contemptible waste of time that could be better spent meditating or reading, rather than gyrating lewdly to an utterly dreadful cacophony of noise that unfortunately passes for modern music.' Anakin thought that if Obi-Wan could ever relax enough he might just have a good time, but that would require him to actually attend a social function that didn't involve datapads or protocol droids.

On the other hand, if his Master ever found out about all the things that went on at Knights Out, not to mention all of Anakin's adventures over the years, he'd never allow Anakin out of the Temple. In addition to hours of meditating on the virtues of a sexless and completely boring life, he'd force Anakin into a service detail that would undoubtedly involve filing Master Yoda's claws, shining Master Windu's head, and a week of laundry duty for the crechelings.

Anakin shuddered at the thought. Please, not Windu's head. Anything but that.

How Anakin had kept his attendance at Knights Out a secret all these years he couldn't figure, all things considered. Anakin's first year at Knights Out found him spending a good hour throwing up in the 'fresher after one-too-many Corellian Crushers— but honestly, how was he to know? Barriss had just kept filling his cup with the fruity, potent concoction, telling him to "drink up!" It had tasted so good and went down so smoothly that Anakin had thought it was just juice. How he had got home, into bed, and managed to attend Master Windu's 0800 class was still a mystery.

Then there was the year that he and Tru Veld had gotten into a fist-fight on the dance floor over…what was it? Oh, yeah, something incredibly important— who did a better "Running Man". He'd had to come up with a pretty elaborate cover story for the black eye— luckily Barriss had snuck into Master Unduli's Healer bag and had been able to apply some bacta to the cut on his cheek to avoid stitches. Obi-Wan had thankfully assumed it was Anakin's teenage clumsiness, thoughtfully taking the time to lecture him on the merits of Jedi grace.

And then there was last year. Anakin's cheeks flushed with that particular memory… what there was of it, anyways. After consuming several Furry Wookiees and a double shot of what Barriss called Gungan Gut-Rot, he spent most of his time in the 'fresher again. The logistics were still in question, as were some of the particular details, but he definitely wasn't sick this time. What he did remember was that when he wasn't busy groping Aayla and watching her do un-fucking-believable things to him with her lekku, he was on his knees in another stall with Ferus Olin— Ferus!— slurping and sucking the life out of his rival. It was surprising as all hell to Anakin that he was turned on by the way Ferus kept moaning 'fuck!' over and over while tugging on Anakin's braid to pull him closer.

And as if that wasn't enough (and it damn well should have been— hello? Ferus? What the fuck had he been thinking?), there was a strange snippet of memory involving Masters Tachi and Unduli. He somehow found himself waking up to giggles— female giggles— in the back of some speeder parked in what appeared to be a dark corner of the Temple's hanger. Anakin couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain he remembered lips pressing against his, a hand cupping his cheek, then another slowly sliding down his chest and resting on his groin. Then more giggles, and a familiar voice saying 'Sith, woman, he's but a babe still, Obi-Wan would kill you…'. He could swear that when he forced his eyes open he saw what appeared to be Master Siri Tachi, half-naked, smiling at him, then turning away to start kissing someone with wild abandon…was that Master Luminara?

No, he had to have been dreaming. That couldn't have happened, could it? Well, real or not, it had been fun to imagine over the last year; he could hardly look either Master in the eye after that.

Anakin had no doubt that this year would be no less entertaining. Force, it had better be. With any luck, it would be his last Knights Out as a Padawan, the last time he would have to sneak off under elaborate pretenses. For as much fun as he had each year, he still hated lying to Obi-Wan. Even when his Master was being the most irritatingly unreasonable prick in the universe.

Like earlier tonight.

After yet another fight with Obi-Wan, this time something about how carelessly he had flown his new Delta-Six before landing— and how could he not? With his modifications, the Six had just begged him to roll her on approach— Anakin just couldn't take another evening of brooding silences, awkward pauses, and a tension that never used to exist between them. He had even gone to his Master's room to try to apologize, but accidentally overheard Obi-Wan on the comm, saying something like 'I can't take much more of this!'

Anakin's temper had flared at being talked about behind his back, Obi-Wan had chastised him for eavesdropping, and after a totally juvenile stare-down, Anakin had stormed out saying he was going to a holo with Padme, knowing that would make his Master even angrier. He never understood why Padme bothered Obi-Wan so much, but it was always a touchy subject.

Which was exactly why he had said it.

Of course, his Master was unaware Padme was not only off-planet, but there was also absolutely nothing going on between her and Anakin. How could there be? Padme was fooling around with some Senator's Junior Lackey of Something, and Anakin? Well, he had unfortunately, and foolishly, fallen in love with the very man whose face he was going to try to erase from his thoughts for at least one night.

Fucking Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He wasn't sure how it happened, or when it started exactly, but Anakin had tried just about everything he could to not feel the rush of emotions that flared to life whenever he and Obi-Wan were together. Obi-Wan would be completely horrified if he knew how he starred in all of Anakin's fantasies as a very skilled, very aggressive, and very naked lover, how Anakin couldn't even take a proper shower anymore without ending it with a moaned "Master…", or how Anakin got hard even when they argued these days, seeing Obi-Wan's face flushed indignant, hair ruffled, chest heaving as his blue-green eyes sparked with intensity.

Force, I need a drink, he thought, spying a spot at the bar. With the bass pounding in his chest, he strode over to the bar with a definite swagger to his leather-clad hips. Dressed in his signature black leather pants and black boots, he had selected a form-fitting dark blue shirt that clung to every muscle and accentuated his eyes. He could feel the pairs of hungry eyes that followed his every move, and while it provided a certain thrill, it simultaneously didn't matter because he really only wanted one person to look at him that way, and he knew it would never, ever happen.

Taking a sip from the cool bottle of ale, Anakin leaned against the bar, looking out on the party. He shook his head, trying to rid it of his lurid thoughts. Fuck Obi-Wan Kenobi. Tonight was about making sure Anakin Skywalker had fun. He would forget about his unreasonable crush on his completely unobtainable uptight Master, and with any luck, find himself back in a 'fresher stall, and not alone, either…


"Come on Quin, will you just fucking do it, already?" Obi-Wan begged, his face red and flushed as he looked back over his shoulder.

Quinlan growled and pushed Obi-Wan up against the cool window, putting one hand on the smaller Jedi's hip and the other on his shoulder. "Patience," he panted, "is the way of the Jedi," he grunted, thrusting hard into Obi-Wan.

"Force, Quin, you are such an ass," Obi-Wan gasped, his eyes closing briefly from the deep and satisfying pleasure that was beginning to build within him. Sith hell, I should not need this so much. But he did, and looking down at his impressively stiff erection, that was especially true tonight. Frustrated and needing release, Obi-Wan reached down to grasp his achingly swollen cock, only to have his hand batted away and replaced by a larger, stronger hand. Obi-Wan bit his lip and groaned appreciatively under Quinlan's expert touch.

"Un-uh. That's my job," the Kiffar Jedi murmured, his breath hot on Obi-Wan's neck. "You're the one who called me, remember? What happened? Have another fight with that cock-teasing apprentice of yours?" He gave Obi-Wan's length a couple of firm tugs, followed by long strokes that lingered at the tip, eliciting a sharp moan from the other Jedi.

Obi-Wan shook his head in denial, his sweat-drenched hair falling into his eyes, sticking to his forehead. He didn't want to think about Anakin…not now…

Picking up on Obi-Wan's thoughts, Quinlan couldn't help himself. "Yes you do, Kenobi. You want to pretend he's the one fucking you right now, his long fingers wrapped around your cock, pulling and teasing you." Quinlan leaned in closer, his teeth grazing Obi-Wan's ear. "Biting your ear, whispering 'Come, Master, come for me'…"

Anakin…Anakin's hands roaming his body, Anakin's full lips pressing into his shoulder, his warm tongue wet as it traced a line from Obi-Wan's shoulder up to his ear…

"Ana…Quiiiin…" he moaned as he came forcefully into Quinlan's skilled hand. Seconds later he felt Quinlan tense up as Obi-Wan's mind was invaded with images of Quinlan and his former apprentice Aayla Secura in flagrante delicto. The other Jedi shuddered in climax, holding Obi-Wan against him for a moment until his body stilled, then quickly separated, as though it was the natural course of business.

Which it was, of course. Obi-Wan and Quin had been fuck-buddies for several years now, since one wild Knights Out that found them both drunk, lonely, and unreasonably horny for the one thing they couldn't have—their Padawans. Anakin had been only 16 then, and Aayla, well, she had been young enough that even Quin thought of her as off-limits jail-bait. It had been a beneficial arrangement for both men, a way to satisfy their lust, even if Quinlan was lewd, forceful, and definitely not a cuddler.

Having calmed his breathing, Obi-Wan spied his leggings lying in a crumpled heap next to the couch and began to get dressed. Pulling on his tunics, he glared over at Quinlan, who still lay splayed naked on the couch. "Do you mind, Quin? I'd rather not have to get the cushions cleaned again because you are too lazy to cover your ass."

Not moving a muscle, the dark-haired Jedi smiled lazily, the fog of lust just beginning to clear from his intense eyes. "Fucking relax, would you?" he drawled, obviously sated from their encounter. "Obi-Wan, how can you possibly still be so uptight after that? I mean, that was the whole point, wasn't it?"

Obi-Wan threw Quin's trousers at him, hitting him in the head. "I am not uptight," he said defensively. "And by the way, thanks for projecting again—like I need to see your soddy fantasies about Aayla and her lekku," he grimaced, trying desperately to forget. "By the stars," he muttered, holding his hand over his eyes.

Quin threw back his head, laughing. "My fantasies? Give me a break. I think the whole damn Temple pretty much heard your fantasy just now. Who just came with his Padawan's name screaming from his lips? 'Anakin!'" Quinlan mocked with a wanton moan. "It sure as hell wasn't me… not this time, anyway," he added.

Obi-Wan shot him a look of death, which only made Quin laugh harder. "You are such a fucking bastard, Quinlan Vos. Why I put up with this—"

"Arrangement? Because I'm a good fuck, Kenobi, and you know it. You might say, and I emphasize you here, that it's my speci-al-i-ty," Quin said, imitating his friend's clipped aristocratic accent. "Face it, you need me. How else would you have made it through the last couple of years with that sweet young ass wagging in your face day in and day out? You have it so bad for your Padawan you even get turned on arguing with him now. Now that's a problem. What was it this time again? Something about his flying?"

Obi-Wan sighed and rolled his eyes as he wandered into the kitchen area. "Yes. He has that damn Delta-Six now and he thinks he's just bloody hot shit. I'm telling you, Quin, he's going to be the death of me."

"Yeah, when you finally let him fuck you to death!"

He shot another lethal glare at Quinlan. "I merely commented that he might not need to fly so fast, upside down, through the upper levels of Coruscant's atmosphere, nor do barrel rolls on approach to the Temple hangar. That is all."

Quin raised his eyebrow. "Of course, you weren't screaming at him or anything at the time, now were you?"

Obi-Wan's cheeks flushed as he looked down to pour the wine. "I—I could have been, I suppose. But really, was all that necessary? We all know he can fly, for Sith's sake. The whole damn galaxy knows Anakin Skywalker can fly!" He walked over and handed the other Jedi a glass.

Quin nodded as he took a big gulp. "Lighten up, would you? Did you ever think he does that just because he knows it gets your goat every time? Besides, the boy has a new toy—let him play. And, well, he is the best pilot out there, hands down." He took another ample drink, looking around the Kenobi-Skywalker residence. "Where is he tonight, anyway?"

Obi-Wan scowled. "Well, after he overheard me on the comm with you, we had another fight and he stormed out. The cheeky bastard even had the nerve to say he was going to a holo with Padme!" her name coming out in a derisive sneer. "What he sees in that prissy tart I will never understand!"

Quinlan couldn't help but chuckle at the jealous outburst. "Do you hear yourself? Why don't you just tell him how you feel already?"

Obi-Wan's face paled. "I can't, Quin, you know that. He's my Padawan for one, and- and he's not interested in me, for another."

"Oh really? And you know this how? I think you're just too worried about what is right and proper and the correct protocol and all that other bullshit. It's a nice theory, but it's not going to keep you warm at night, Kenobi," he said, giving Obi-Wan a pointed look.

"Thank you, Master Vos. I had forgotten how little advice coming from you actually helps," he said with abundant sarcasm.

A smirk caused the yellow tattoo across Quin's face to crinkle. "I don't know, Obi-Wan. You know what a rogue I am, and I don't really give a fuck about protocol. If you don't hurry up, I just might have to have me a sample of some Skywalker—"

Obi-Wan's hand shot out instantly, grabbing Quin's arm forcefully, nearly spilling the scarlet alcohol. His eyes darkened as his voice lowered. "Quinlan, fun is fun. This is not. Do not even think about—"

Quin reached over and slowly pried Obi-Wan's fingers off of his arm, meeting his friend's eyes with a dark intensity of their own. "Careful, Obi-Wan. That sounds suspiciously like a threat." Wanting to lighten the mood, he gave his friend a warm smile. "Besides, you know what I want anyway. And tonight is the night!" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Obi-Wan relaxed and waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, Force help poor Aayla, stuck with the likes of you." He gestured toward the door. "Speaking of which, aren't you late for your little… party?"

Quin looked at his chrono. "Fuck, yes I am." Dressing quickly, he shot Obi-Wan a look. "You're coming, right? I mean, of all years, you have to come tonight! It won't be the same without you."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "And what? Watch your pathetic attempts at seducing your former Padawan? Watch her run to Kit's arms? I don't think so, sorry."

Quin glared. "Fisto's out on Muunilist settling a trade dispute, but thanks for the support. Come on, Obi-Wan! You need to get out of here and stop being so damn proper. Come have a good time and forget about Skywalker for once, would you?"

Obi-Wan mulled it over. He'd only snuck away to Knights Out a couple of times with Quin when they were Padawans. Qui-Gon had never approved of the tradition and had forbade Obi-Wan from going, and being the Perfect Padawan, Obi-Wan had obeyed without question. Then came the years when Siri dumped him, Qui-Gon rejected him, and Quin, well, Quin was there with all sorts of temptations.

He started to nod slowly. He hadn't been to Knights Out in all the years he'd been a Master. Force knows, it would be nice to just go and have some fun. What harm would it do to go and try to forget Anakin for one night?

"All right, Quin. Just give me a second—I need to change."

"Great!" he called as Obi-Wan walked into the other room. "But for fuck's sake, stay away from your boy toy's leather pants, ok? They make you look short and dumpy!"

Short and dumpy? "Vos, I swear, you better shut that bloody fucking mouth of yours…"

Obi-Wan frowned as he pulled out a pair of loose black trousers and an emerald green button-down shirt that, sadly, got very little use. Obi-Wan was always in his Jedi robes, either as "The Negotiator" representing the Republic or as a stern and proper Master. This, of course, brought his thoughts back to Anakin, his leather pants, and the fact that he was off with Padme doing Force-knew-what. Damn you, Anakin Skywalker! Yes, Knights Out was exactly the thing he needed to rid himself of his ridiculous obsession with his Padawan.

Sith, he'd be happy if he could forget for just one night.

He ran a hand through his tousled auburn hair and smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt, tucking it into the pants that hung low on his hips.. He frowned again, reaching up with a tie to pull the longer strands back off his face. He sighed. I look so old, he thought morosely as he viewed his bearded reflection. I'd be lucky to turn a Hutt's head now. The thought of Anakin being attracted to him grew more ridiculous the longer he looked in the mirror. Quinlan's voice jarred him out of his self-pity wallowing.

"Come on, fancy pants! Talk about a prissy tart. Stop fussing and let's go!" Quin whined from the doorway. He whistled appreciatively as Obi-Wan walked past him into the common room. "Well, just look at you. Is Master Kenobi, dare I say, on the prowl tonight?"

A blush crept over Obi-Wan as Quin invaded his personal space. "Stop it, Quin. I look old and fairly ridiculous. I'm not even sure why I let you talk me into this."

Quinlan moved even closer, his hands on Obi-Wan's chest. "Because you want to. Hmm...very nice, my friend. Except," Quin purred, reaching up to rip open Obi-Wan's shirt by a couple of buttons, "this is better." His fingers lingered on Obi-Wan's chest for a moment, a heated look passing between them. "There's definitely nothing old about you."

Obi-Wan slowly removed the other Jedi's hands, wishing desperately that they belonged to a different Jedi, one with deep blue eyes and blonde highlights. "Thank you, Quin, really," he said, slightly embarrassed. His hand fluttered nervously up to the skin of his chest, feeling the soft tawny hairs that were now exposed. "Are you sure I don't look—"

Quin groaned loudly. "No, would you quit worrying? Besides, why do you care? It's not like he's going to be there to see you, right? Didn't you say he was out with that hot piece of Nubian—"

"Quinlan, by the ever-loving Force, shut the fuck up! Thanks for reminding me, once again, that he's out with her."

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry. Not another word about Skywalker. Can we go now?"

As they left the apartment, Obi-Wan turned to Quinlan. "So, where are we going, anyway?"

"The Outlander."

Obi-Wan smiled weakly. "The Outlander?" he asked hesitantly.

Quin gave him a sheepish look, if that was even a look Quinlan Vos was capable of having. "Oh… um. That, ah, wasn't the place where you and Skywalker…the bounty hunter…?"

Obi-Wan glared. "Yes." Sith, I can't even go out without it relating to Anakin!

"Uh, sorry…" Quin chuckled, throwing his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders.

With annoyance, Obi-Wan shrugged off the other Jedi's arm and climbed into the speeder. How did this happen? Here I am, going out to an unapproved party like I'm some kind of delinquent, hoping to either drink myself into oblivion or find a substitute for Anakin. He glanced over at Quinlan, admiring how carefree his friend was, his long dark locks flying out behind him in the wind, a big, confident grin on his face. Obi-Wan sighed sadly; he already had a substitute for Anakin, and that simply wasn't enough anymore.

No, no more substitutes. Tonight was going to be about finding Obi-Wan Kenobi again. Not the Jedi Master, not the fool in love with his Padawan, but the man who used to know how to have a good time. With any luck, he might even do something reckless or impulsive.

In other words, he might just have to relax.

If only that wasn't so hard…