Fandom: Star Wars
Disclaimer
: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: Obi-Wan has an allergic reaction to a plant on a mission with Qui-Gon. Mildishly fluffy?
Warning(s): slash
Pairing(s)
: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Word Count: 1,145

A/N: Day 15 of "22 new fandoms in 22 days." Calendar link up in my profile.
Story note: Not quite what I wanted for them, but slice of life fics are a good fall back for one-shots, you know? Obi's like in his what, late teens here.

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Obi-Wan wasn't sure how much more of this he could stand. He struggled not to squirm in his seat, and when he surreptitiously began to rub his stomach, his master sent him a pointed look that said to stop. It wasn't his fault. He was almost certain that the current negotiations they were overseeing had to be the slowest he'd ever attended. It was taking all his discipline and concentration to not start twitching in his seat. As a last resort, he clasped his hands tightly in the sleeves of his robe and tried to emulate the calm his master was displaying.

He knew that seriousness was false though. He would have glared had it not been so obvious. Instead he kept his eyes on the beings across from them. Everything was going smoothly. The only reason the Jedi had been called was for show, to make it really official.

He didn't understand why they'd been called through when they could have sent another team. Obi-Wan and his master had been going from one dangerous mission to another; having been apprentice to the famous and quite popular Qui-Gon Jinn for so long, Obi-Wan was quite used to the danger that seemed to follow him. In fact, he rather liked it.

He guessed that the Council thought it was time to send them on a vacation. Obi-Wan couldn't have agreed more. Even though he was disappointed that vacation was hidden in a relatively simple assignment, he had been ecstatic to be here. The planet had looked beautiful, and from the data he'd studied en route, it seemed like it was very peaceful. The things they could be doing ran through his mind, but every thought was tainted as with the urgent need to scratch.

The men from the trade negotiation stood up and parted ways. Obi-Wan easily followed the proper protocol, standing patiently beside his master until the hall was clear before giving into the urge to scratch his stomach.

"I'm surprised you managed to control yourself for so long, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said with a grin, the one Obi-Wan knew he'd been trying to suppress the whole meeting.

"Can we just go to our room?" Obi-Wan practically begged.

Still grinning, Qui-Gon decided to walk as slow as possible. Obi-Wan didn't bother complaining to his master, knowing it would probably only encourage him to walk even slower. He just rubbed his stomach through the robe. Once in the safety of their own room, he pulled off the cloak and began to scratch in earnest.

Qui-Gon laughed for a moment before grabbing his Padawan's wrists in order to stop him. "You aren't a little boy anymore. Don't make me find mittens," he threatened with a smirk.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at the memory. "It's killing me."

"This isn't a flesh eating disease, Padawan." Qui-Gon said, unsympathetic, "There's no need to be dramatic."

Obi-Wan tugged at his hands, not trying to force himself free, just to tell the older Jedi to release him.

Qui-Gon looked at him warily, "Will you stop scratching?"

He considered lying, but that had always proven to backfire on him. He settled for the truth, "I can't promise you that."

"Then," Qui-Gon shrugged, "we're going to be standing here for a while like this."

"Master," Obi-Wan whined.

"Don't do that. It's unbecoming of you."

"At least let me take off my tunic." Obi-Wan looked at his shirt. "It's making it worse."

Qui-Gon considered his reasoning before slowly releasing his hands. He gave him a warning glare, saying, "Let's see the damage you've done."

Obi-Wan pulled the tunic off eagerly, tossing it on top of his robe. He knew that in any other situation, his master would have chastised him for his messiness; it was good to know he'd been given some latitude due to his suffering.

There was a trail of short cuts from below his belly button towards his left arm. The scratches were inflamed, rashes forming around them. A few were opened and bleeding.

"I think it's worse." Obi-Wan sighed, but kept his hands to his sides even though he was sorely tempted to scratch again. Faced with the damage he'd already done though, he decided he could control himself a little better.

"That's what happens when you scratch," his master stated rather unnecessarily.

Obi-Wan walked over to the couch and dropped down on it. His hands were crossed behind his head, fingers interlaced, in a façade of relaxation. His head was thrown back and eyes were closed, but his arms were tense and knuckles white as he tried to focus on everything but the rash on his stomach. "This is all your fault."

"My fault?" Qui-Gon asked as he walked to the fresher to get a towel and the ointment they'd been using.

"If you hadn't released that evil thorny vine plant after you passed by, I wouldn't have gotten hit," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"If you had been paying attention to the living force instead of daydreaming, you would've seen it coming," Qui-Gon retorted.

Scoffing, Obi-Wan hated when his master used the living force excuse. He refused to lose this argument though. "If you'd let me land like I'd asked, we wouldn't have ended up in the middle of a forest."

Qui-Gon didn't reply to that, couldn't. He'd told Obi-Wan that he could land it without help, that it would be an exercise in trust. His Padawan had just laughed and allowed him to land, rather ungracefully and not where he'd initially planned.

So, instead of saying anything, he just crouched in front of Obi-Wan and cleaned off the blood before beginning to apply to ointment. He watched as Obi-Wan gave a sigh of relief and relaxed into his touch. That's what this vacation should have consisted of, relaxation and relieved sighs.

"And," Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon up so that they were face to face, "if you hadn't promised that you'd make up for the unnecessary walk," he kissed Qui-Gon on the lips slowly. He savored the familiarity, the closeness, the way the force just seemed to thrum with energy at the contact. He could forget about the fact that he was itching so terribly at the moment. He pulled away for a moment to murmur, "I wouldn't have been daydreaming." Resuming the kiss, he could feel Qui-Gon smiling.

Qui-Gon pulled away, annoyed by the fact that he couldn't quite touch Obi-Wan since his hands were oily. He smiled as an idea came to mind, "You're right. It is my fault. I'll make up for this as well." At Obi-Wan's triumphant grin, he added, "When you're better."

The look of disbelief only made him certain it was the right choice. Staying away from his needy Padawan was going to be difficult, but Obi-Wan was getting too cocky for his own good. He could work on his patience too while they were at it.

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End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Story Note: Um… this is pretty short and not that great. Blame writer's block.