Fic: Just a Dream (Star Wars - PT)
Title: Just a Dream
Author: immertreu
Word count: ~2400
Summary: A glimpse into Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi's life as Master and Padawan: Obi-Wan is suffering from nightmares - or maybe they are more than just dreams?
Just a Dream
by immertreu
March 22 - August 16, 2015
Qui-Gon was out of his bed and moving towards his Padawan's room before he had fully awoken. Obi-Wan's distress was permeating the Force in uneasy ripples, making the Jedi Master's skin crawl. He didn't bother knocking but burst into his apprentice's chamber.
Obi-Wan lay on his sleeping platform, writhing and shaking from a nightmare. It had been years since Qui-Gon had seen his student suffer from a similar intense dream. Worried, he sat down on the bed and gripped his Padawan by the shoulders, trying to shake him awake. “Obi-Wan,” he said gently but sternly. “You must wake.”
The boy didn't react.
“Obi-Wan,” he called a little louder, but still got no response. He was about to move his hand from his Padawan's shoulder to his forehead, preparing to nudge his student out of his dream with a push through their training bond, when the boy suddenly bolted upright. Qui-Gon had to let go of him and lean back in order to avoid having his nose broken - again.
Obi-Wan looked around in panic, still caught in the aftermath of his nightmare, tears glittering in the corners of his eyes.
Qui-Gon sat forward and grabbed his Padawan's flying fists in one of his much broader hands. The other he placed on Obi-Wan's arm, giving it a light squeeze. “Obi-Wan,” he said again, more urgently. “It was only a dream. You are safe.”
Qui-Gon was dismayed to see that some of the horror remained in those too-wide eyes. He could feel it in the straining muscles under his hands. “Padawan, breathe!” he ordered, and Obi-Wan unconsciously complied, trying to get his panting that had come close to hyperventilation under control.
The Padawan drew in a shaky breath and finally returned to the here and now. He frowned at his hands, still caught in Qui-Gon's grip, and the older Jedi let go, placing the now pliant limbs in his student's lap.
Confusion and shame chased each other across Obi-Wan's expression.
Qui-Gon knew all too well what worrying thoughts his teen-aged apprentice entertained, and he smiled as gently as he could. “All is well, Padawan,” he soothed, but Obi-Wan couldn't quite meet his eyes, remorse flittering across their bond.
Before Qui-Gon could admonish his student for his unnecessary feeling of guilt, Obi-Wan surprised him with an even more uncharacteristic action: The boy let himself fall forward, his forehead coming to rest on Qui-Gon's chest next to his heart, his hands fisting into the older Jedi's tunic.
Astonished, Qui-Gon wrapped one arm around the shaking boy, drawing soothing circles onto his back. His other hand ended up on Obi-Wan's neck, a gesture of reassurance and encouragement for both of them.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, Obi-Wan struggling to regain his control, Qui-Gon waiting patiently yet anxiously, never relinquishing his caring hold. The dream must have been a horrific one to upset his Padawan this much. The younger Jedi hadn't sought this kind of comfort in the last two years, at least.
Eventually, Obi-Wan let go of the rough fabric under his hands and settled back, furiously scrubbing at his face.
Relieved at the change but sad to lose the close contact they rarely allowed themselves these days, Qui-Gon carefully tugged once on Obi-Wan's Padawan braid in silent affirmation, then let his hands come to rest on his knees.
Obi-Wan wouldn't look at him.
“Padawan?” he asked - a question, not a demand, for an explanation.
Obi-Wan turned fearful eyes towards his mentor. His voice shook when he finally spoke. “I-I am sorry, M-master.” He rubbed angrily at the tears still threatening to fall, and gulped in a wobbly breath. “I had the most horrible dream.” His gaze dropped down to his still trembling hands. “There was so much pain and sorrow. Flames. Darkness.” His frightened eyes suddenly bored into Qui-Gon's. “You died!”
Qui-Gon refrained from admonishing his Padawan for his lack of restraint and composure. Dreams or visions could be hard on anybody, but especially the young and inexperienced. Obi-Wan was neither, not really, but he was far from having reached his full potential as a Jedi. He was a learner, strong in the Force, able in body and mind, still seeking his path in life. It was a difficult road, no doubt, but Qui-Gon just knew that it would be worth it.
He regarded his distraught Padawan and grasped the boy's hands once more, not restraining him this time, but sharing warmth and life with the shock-cold youth. “I am here, Obi-Wan,” he appeased. “It was just a dream,” he repeated his earlier statement.
Obi-Wan shook his head in denial, his eyes regaining some of their focus. “It felt so real. What if it was a vision?”
Qui-Gon considered the question. “If it was a vision, we will hope it shall never come to pass. And if it was a dream, you need to put it behind you. Either way, you have to let it go.”
Obi-Wan hiccupped and blushed.
Qui-Gon couldn't help himself, he reached out and chucked the younger Jedi under the chin, a familiar gesture of reassurance. Then he chuckled, ignoring his Padawan's glare caused by embarrassment. “Courage, young one,” he said gently, raising one hand to let it come to rest on his student's shoulder. “I do not want this vision - if indeed it was one - to come true any more than you do, but dwelling on it will not help either of us.”
Obi-Wan knew this, of course, but sometimes in the dead of night, even the most confirmed truth had a way of eluding its owner.
“Come,” Qui-Gon ordered, and stood. “I think tea and then some meditation is in order.”
Obi-Wan followed more slowly, finding his feet with difficulty. Recovering his inner balance took most of the night.
*******************
Unfortunately, the Force deemed it fit to test them again the night after. Both Jedi had been weary and turned in early after their previous interrupted rest, but Obi-Wan's exhausted state meant no respite from what the future needed to tell him.
Qui-Gon found his student sitting in bed once more, eyes wide and perspiration glistening on his face. He turned away in shame when his Master entered his sleeping chamber, but Qui-Gon would have none of it. He sat down next to his troubled student and gently but firmly turned the boy's head around so he could look at him. A pair of wounded, too old eyes stared back at him, and Qui-Gon swallowed a gasp. “Another vision?” he asked.
Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, Master,” he whispered. “I'm sorry, Master.”
“Hush,” Qui-Gon chided. Not a dream then, he thought ruefully. “There is no need to apologize. We always knew that one of your talents would be prescience.” Obi-Wan's constant bad feelings whenever a mission went sour was proof to that. He smiled grimly and added, “But I wish it could have given us one more night to rest and adjust to this recent development.”
His pale attempt at humor was met with a pained shrug and the raising of one ginger-haired eyebrow. “Me, too,” the Padawan finally mumbled, and hung his head. “But I truly am sorry, Master. I didn't mean to wake you. Again.”
Serious once more, Qui-Gon regarded the spiky-haired head bowed before him, and sighed. Throwing decorum out the tiny window of his Padawan's sleeping chamber, he grabbed the shaking hand closest to him, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Obi-Wan, look at me.” When he could finally see his student's anxious eyes again, he continued, not letting go of the clammy palm in his much bigger hand. “Padawan, it is my duty and my privilege to guide you. You do not need to apologize for something that is out of your control.”
Obi-Wan flinched and went back to studying the blanket bunched around his hips.
“Padawan?”
Hesitantly, Obi-Wan raised his gaze again and spoke. “I should be shielding better.”
Qui-Gon frowned, not understanding the non-sequitur.
Obi-Wan, misinterpreting the expression and too tired to notice his teacher's true intention in the Force, hurried on. “I will learn, Master, so you won't be disturbed.”
“Padawan!”
Startled by the exclamation, Obi-Wan almost jumped but regained his control with admirable speed. The horrors of the night were slowly fading, diffused by a Jedi's calm.
Qui-Gon took a deep breath and continued more evenly, “Obi-Wan, there is no shame in this. You will learn to deal with it, yes, but you do not need to shield from me. Not ever. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
The dutiful reply, delivered in a deceptive mild tone, did nothing to reassure the older Jedi, but he decided the eventual discussion could wait. Instead he tugged on the smaller hand dwarfed in his, and cajoled his unresisting student to the mediation cushions laid out in the living room. “Sit,” he commanded, and pushed his confused pupil to his knees. “We will meditate.”
*****************
The next night, Qui-Gon found his Padawan standing at the balcony railing, shivering in the cold, unrelenting wind, overlooking the never-ceasing bustling activity surrounding the Temple on Coruscant. Aggrieved, he put the younger Jedi's cloak around the youth's drawn-up shoulders and stepped up next to Obi-Wan. “You should have called me.”
His apprentice wouldn't look at him, shame evident in posture and tone of voice. “I am sorry, Master.”
Qui-Gon had to suppress an un-Jedi like sigh. There is no emotion, he thought bitterly, knowing it wasn't true, not when it came to his stubborn, aggravating, most compassionate Padawan who wouldn't wake his own Master for fear of disturbing him the third night in a row.
“What are you sorry for, Padawan?” he asked, more sternly than he had intended.
Obi-Wan huddled deeper into his cloak.
“For interrupting my sleep? Or for disregarding my order and not waking me after experiencing yet another vision?”
Finally, Obi-Wan turned to face him, a small smile flitting across his features. “Both, my Master,” he said, and bowed in apology, the consummate Jedi.
Qui-Gon hid a snort. Trust his tenacious young counterpart to defuse the situation with an innocent seeming comment and a not so virtuous display of charm. Not that he would ever admit the latter out loud, of course.
“What am I to do with you then?” he asked, and relented a little when he saw Obi-Wan's tired gaze. The young Jedi was almost dead on his feet. How long had his Padawan been standing in the cold?
“Come on inside,” Qui-Gon ordered and shepherded his charge indoors. “It seems you require something stronger than tea, young one,” he said and chuckled when Obi-Wan whipped his head around, eyes wide. “Do not fret, Padawan,” he said. “I am speaking merely of hot chocolate to soothe your nerves.”
His apprentice looked affronted by the idea that he needed coddling like a youngling, but he didn't protest.
Oh, to be young again! Sweets were rare in any Jedi's life, and real chocolate was the rarest of delicacies because of its outrageous price on the open market. But Qui-Gon always had a small stash at hand for emergencies like this.
During the first few months of their rocky relationship, the older Jedi had prepared more mugs of the hot beverage than he would ever care to count - but every single one of them had been worth the grateful expression on his young companion's face. Obi-Wan had often sipped the steaming liquid late at night, after yet another horrendous nightmare, or a mission gone wrong, or when the Balmorra Flu had finally caught up with his usually so exuberant Padawan.
“Master?” an unusually timid voice queried, and Qui-Gon returned to the here and now, realizing that he had been reminiscing for far too long, standing frozen just inside the balcony door that couldn't close because he was blocking the entrance.
Admonishing himself for his foolishness, the older Jedi stepped inside so the hatch could swish shut behind him. He turned the waiting Obi-Wan towards the smaller bedroom and started for the kitchenette. “Go get settled down,” he ordered over his shoulder. “I will be along momentarily.”
Obi-Wan grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “Not a youngling”, but complied.
Qui-Gon grinned when he was certain his student couldn't see him anymore and started preparing hot chocolate for the young rascal. A few minutes later, he sat down by Obi-Wan's sleeping platform and handed over the steaming mug.
His Padawan's eyes closed in appreciation when he inhaled the sweet fragrance, only to pop open in mortification a few seconds later. “Thank you,” he mumbled belatedly, and once again buried his nose in the soft steam curling upward from the cup held between his hands.
“You are welcome.” Qui-Gon chuckled and leaned back against the wall next to the bed, enjoying the companionable silence. They would have to ask a healer or Master Yoda for help if the visions continued this frequently, but Qui-Gon sincerely hoped it was just Obi-Wan's bad beginner's luck. The poor boy didn't deserve to be sleep-deprived for the rest of his life.
For now, though, the Jedi Master banned such dark thoughts from his mind and relaxed, bathing in the soothing atmosphere. Amazing what a simple mug of hot chocolate could do.
They didn't speak for a long time, Obi-Wan enjoying his special treat, Qui-Gon taking delight in his pupil's bliss.
When the older Jedi finally looked over at Obi-Wan, the Padawan had fallen asleep - the empty mug still clutched in one hand. Amused, Qui-Gon plugged the vessel from his student's slack grip. The boy had fallen sideways, his head pillowed on one hand, the other - now freed of its burden - had come to rest on the thin mattress.
Tomorrow, the young Jedi would be embarrassed by drifting off in his Master's presence. Tonight, he would find comfort in his slumber.
Relieved, Qui-Gon left his Padawan's room and went to achieve some rest himself. They would deal with tomorrow's problems when - if - the need arose. For now, there was only peace.
The End
A/N: I totally forgot I even wrote this! It was more a writing exercise than anything else, but then I decided to finish it anyway. Angst-ridden Obi-Wan is just too cute. And I love hot chocolate. Cadbury is the best.
Beta'd by IcyWaters. Thank you!
Author: immertreu
Word count: ~2400
Summary: A glimpse into Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi's life as Master and Padawan: Obi-Wan is suffering from nightmares - or maybe they are more than just dreams?
Just a Dream
by immertreu
March 22 - August 16, 2015
Qui-Gon was out of his bed and moving towards his Padawan's room before he had fully awoken. Obi-Wan's distress was permeating the Force in uneasy ripples, making the Jedi Master's skin crawl. He didn't bother knocking but burst into his apprentice's chamber.
Obi-Wan lay on his sleeping platform, writhing and shaking from a nightmare. It had been years since Qui-Gon had seen his student suffer from a similar intense dream. Worried, he sat down on the bed and gripped his Padawan by the shoulders, trying to shake him awake. “Obi-Wan,” he said gently but sternly. “You must wake.”
The boy didn't react.
“Obi-Wan,” he called a little louder, but still got no response. He was about to move his hand from his Padawan's shoulder to his forehead, preparing to nudge his student out of his dream with a push through their training bond, when the boy suddenly bolted upright. Qui-Gon had to let go of him and lean back in order to avoid having his nose broken - again.
Obi-Wan looked around in panic, still caught in the aftermath of his nightmare, tears glittering in the corners of his eyes.
Qui-Gon sat forward and grabbed his Padawan's flying fists in one of his much broader hands. The other he placed on Obi-Wan's arm, giving it a light squeeze. “Obi-Wan,” he said again, more urgently. “It was only a dream. You are safe.”
Qui-Gon was dismayed to see that some of the horror remained in those too-wide eyes. He could feel it in the straining muscles under his hands. “Padawan, breathe!” he ordered, and Obi-Wan unconsciously complied, trying to get his panting that had come close to hyperventilation under control.
The Padawan drew in a shaky breath and finally returned to the here and now. He frowned at his hands, still caught in Qui-Gon's grip, and the older Jedi let go, placing the now pliant limbs in his student's lap.
Confusion and shame chased each other across Obi-Wan's expression.
Qui-Gon knew all too well what worrying thoughts his teen-aged apprentice entertained, and he smiled as gently as he could. “All is well, Padawan,” he soothed, but Obi-Wan couldn't quite meet his eyes, remorse flittering across their bond.
Before Qui-Gon could admonish his student for his unnecessary feeling of guilt, Obi-Wan surprised him with an even more uncharacteristic action: The boy let himself fall forward, his forehead coming to rest on Qui-Gon's chest next to his heart, his hands fisting into the older Jedi's tunic.
Astonished, Qui-Gon wrapped one arm around the shaking boy, drawing soothing circles onto his back. His other hand ended up on Obi-Wan's neck, a gesture of reassurance and encouragement for both of them.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, Obi-Wan struggling to regain his control, Qui-Gon waiting patiently yet anxiously, never relinquishing his caring hold. The dream must have been a horrific one to upset his Padawan this much. The younger Jedi hadn't sought this kind of comfort in the last two years, at least.
Eventually, Obi-Wan let go of the rough fabric under his hands and settled back, furiously scrubbing at his face.
Relieved at the change but sad to lose the close contact they rarely allowed themselves these days, Qui-Gon carefully tugged once on Obi-Wan's Padawan braid in silent affirmation, then let his hands come to rest on his knees.
Obi-Wan wouldn't look at him.
“Padawan?” he asked - a question, not a demand, for an explanation.
Obi-Wan turned fearful eyes towards his mentor. His voice shook when he finally spoke. “I-I am sorry, M-master.” He rubbed angrily at the tears still threatening to fall, and gulped in a wobbly breath. “I had the most horrible dream.” His gaze dropped down to his still trembling hands. “There was so much pain and sorrow. Flames. Darkness.” His frightened eyes suddenly bored into Qui-Gon's. “You died!”
Qui-Gon refrained from admonishing his Padawan for his lack of restraint and composure. Dreams or visions could be hard on anybody, but especially the young and inexperienced. Obi-Wan was neither, not really, but he was far from having reached his full potential as a Jedi. He was a learner, strong in the Force, able in body and mind, still seeking his path in life. It was a difficult road, no doubt, but Qui-Gon just knew that it would be worth it.
He regarded his distraught Padawan and grasped the boy's hands once more, not restraining him this time, but sharing warmth and life with the shock-cold youth. “I am here, Obi-Wan,” he appeased. “It was just a dream,” he repeated his earlier statement.
Obi-Wan shook his head in denial, his eyes regaining some of their focus. “It felt so real. What if it was a vision?”
Qui-Gon considered the question. “If it was a vision, we will hope it shall never come to pass. And if it was a dream, you need to put it behind you. Either way, you have to let it go.”
Obi-Wan hiccupped and blushed.
Qui-Gon couldn't help himself, he reached out and chucked the younger Jedi under the chin, a familiar gesture of reassurance. Then he chuckled, ignoring his Padawan's glare caused by embarrassment. “Courage, young one,” he said gently, raising one hand to let it come to rest on his student's shoulder. “I do not want this vision - if indeed it was one - to come true any more than you do, but dwelling on it will not help either of us.”
Obi-Wan knew this, of course, but sometimes in the dead of night, even the most confirmed truth had a way of eluding its owner.
“Come,” Qui-Gon ordered, and stood. “I think tea and then some meditation is in order.”
Obi-Wan followed more slowly, finding his feet with difficulty. Recovering his inner balance took most of the night.
*******************
Unfortunately, the Force deemed it fit to test them again the night after. Both Jedi had been weary and turned in early after their previous interrupted rest, but Obi-Wan's exhausted state meant no respite from what the future needed to tell him.
Qui-Gon found his student sitting in bed once more, eyes wide and perspiration glistening on his face. He turned away in shame when his Master entered his sleeping chamber, but Qui-Gon would have none of it. He sat down next to his troubled student and gently but firmly turned the boy's head around so he could look at him. A pair of wounded, too old eyes stared back at him, and Qui-Gon swallowed a gasp. “Another vision?” he asked.
Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, Master,” he whispered. “I'm sorry, Master.”
“Hush,” Qui-Gon chided. Not a dream then, he thought ruefully. “There is no need to apologize. We always knew that one of your talents would be prescience.” Obi-Wan's constant bad feelings whenever a mission went sour was proof to that. He smiled grimly and added, “But I wish it could have given us one more night to rest and adjust to this recent development.”
His pale attempt at humor was met with a pained shrug and the raising of one ginger-haired eyebrow. “Me, too,” the Padawan finally mumbled, and hung his head. “But I truly am sorry, Master. I didn't mean to wake you. Again.”
Serious once more, Qui-Gon regarded the spiky-haired head bowed before him, and sighed. Throwing decorum out the tiny window of his Padawan's sleeping chamber, he grabbed the shaking hand closest to him, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Obi-Wan, look at me.” When he could finally see his student's anxious eyes again, he continued, not letting go of the clammy palm in his much bigger hand. “Padawan, it is my duty and my privilege to guide you. You do not need to apologize for something that is out of your control.”
Obi-Wan flinched and went back to studying the blanket bunched around his hips.
“Padawan?”
Hesitantly, Obi-Wan raised his gaze again and spoke. “I should be shielding better.”
Qui-Gon frowned, not understanding the non-sequitur.
Obi-Wan, misinterpreting the expression and too tired to notice his teacher's true intention in the Force, hurried on. “I will learn, Master, so you won't be disturbed.”
“Padawan!”
Startled by the exclamation, Obi-Wan almost jumped but regained his control with admirable speed. The horrors of the night were slowly fading, diffused by a Jedi's calm.
Qui-Gon took a deep breath and continued more evenly, “Obi-Wan, there is no shame in this. You will learn to deal with it, yes, but you do not need to shield from me. Not ever. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
The dutiful reply, delivered in a deceptive mild tone, did nothing to reassure the older Jedi, but he decided the eventual discussion could wait. Instead he tugged on the smaller hand dwarfed in his, and cajoled his unresisting student to the mediation cushions laid out in the living room. “Sit,” he commanded, and pushed his confused pupil to his knees. “We will meditate.”
*****************
The next night, Qui-Gon found his Padawan standing at the balcony railing, shivering in the cold, unrelenting wind, overlooking the never-ceasing bustling activity surrounding the Temple on Coruscant. Aggrieved, he put the younger Jedi's cloak around the youth's drawn-up shoulders and stepped up next to Obi-Wan. “You should have called me.”
His apprentice wouldn't look at him, shame evident in posture and tone of voice. “I am sorry, Master.”
Qui-Gon had to suppress an un-Jedi like sigh. There is no emotion, he thought bitterly, knowing it wasn't true, not when it came to his stubborn, aggravating, most compassionate Padawan who wouldn't wake his own Master for fear of disturbing him the third night in a row.
“What are you sorry for, Padawan?” he asked, more sternly than he had intended.
Obi-Wan huddled deeper into his cloak.
“For interrupting my sleep? Or for disregarding my order and not waking me after experiencing yet another vision?”
Finally, Obi-Wan turned to face him, a small smile flitting across his features. “Both, my Master,” he said, and bowed in apology, the consummate Jedi.
Qui-Gon hid a snort. Trust his tenacious young counterpart to defuse the situation with an innocent seeming comment and a not so virtuous display of charm. Not that he would ever admit the latter out loud, of course.
“What am I to do with you then?” he asked, and relented a little when he saw Obi-Wan's tired gaze. The young Jedi was almost dead on his feet. How long had his Padawan been standing in the cold?
“Come on inside,” Qui-Gon ordered and shepherded his charge indoors. “It seems you require something stronger than tea, young one,” he said and chuckled when Obi-Wan whipped his head around, eyes wide. “Do not fret, Padawan,” he said. “I am speaking merely of hot chocolate to soothe your nerves.”
His apprentice looked affronted by the idea that he needed coddling like a youngling, but he didn't protest.
Oh, to be young again! Sweets were rare in any Jedi's life, and real chocolate was the rarest of delicacies because of its outrageous price on the open market. But Qui-Gon always had a small stash at hand for emergencies like this.
During the first few months of their rocky relationship, the older Jedi had prepared more mugs of the hot beverage than he would ever care to count - but every single one of them had been worth the grateful expression on his young companion's face. Obi-Wan had often sipped the steaming liquid late at night, after yet another horrendous nightmare, or a mission gone wrong, or when the Balmorra Flu had finally caught up with his usually so exuberant Padawan.
“Master?” an unusually timid voice queried, and Qui-Gon returned to the here and now, realizing that he had been reminiscing for far too long, standing frozen just inside the balcony door that couldn't close because he was blocking the entrance.
Admonishing himself for his foolishness, the older Jedi stepped inside so the hatch could swish shut behind him. He turned the waiting Obi-Wan towards the smaller bedroom and started for the kitchenette. “Go get settled down,” he ordered over his shoulder. “I will be along momentarily.”
Obi-Wan grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “Not a youngling”, but complied.
Qui-Gon grinned when he was certain his student couldn't see him anymore and started preparing hot chocolate for the young rascal. A few minutes later, he sat down by Obi-Wan's sleeping platform and handed over the steaming mug.
His Padawan's eyes closed in appreciation when he inhaled the sweet fragrance, only to pop open in mortification a few seconds later. “Thank you,” he mumbled belatedly, and once again buried his nose in the soft steam curling upward from the cup held between his hands.
“You are welcome.” Qui-Gon chuckled and leaned back against the wall next to the bed, enjoying the companionable silence. They would have to ask a healer or Master Yoda for help if the visions continued this frequently, but Qui-Gon sincerely hoped it was just Obi-Wan's bad beginner's luck. The poor boy didn't deserve to be sleep-deprived for the rest of his life.
For now, though, the Jedi Master banned such dark thoughts from his mind and relaxed, bathing in the soothing atmosphere. Amazing what a simple mug of hot chocolate could do.
They didn't speak for a long time, Obi-Wan enjoying his special treat, Qui-Gon taking delight in his pupil's bliss.
When the older Jedi finally looked over at Obi-Wan, the Padawan had fallen asleep - the empty mug still clutched in one hand. Amused, Qui-Gon plugged the vessel from his student's slack grip. The boy had fallen sideways, his head pillowed on one hand, the other - now freed of its burden - had come to rest on the thin mattress.
Tomorrow, the young Jedi would be embarrassed by drifting off in his Master's presence. Tonight, he would find comfort in his slumber.
Relieved, Qui-Gon left his Padawan's room and went to achieve some rest himself. They would deal with tomorrow's problems when - if - the need arose. For now, there was only peace.
The End
A/N: I totally forgot I even wrote this! It was more a writing exercise than anything else, but then I decided to finish it anyway. Angst-ridden Obi-Wan is just too cute. And I love hot chocolate. Cadbury is the best.
Beta'd by IcyWaters. Thank you!