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“Happy name day, Obi-Wan!” Obi-Wan’s eyes grew wide as a monster of a bantha milkshake was placed before him. The concoction was at least eighteen inches tall; cookie sticks and ornate baked confections on skewers towering above a massive glass of chocolate and caramel cold cream shake.
Dex laughed at Obi-Wan’s shocked expression, scooting the tower of sugar closer to him. The rim of the glass had been coated with chocolate and then rolled in glittering sprinkles shaped like tiny lightsabers and stars. One of the mini cakes had even been frosted and decorated with “Happy Name Day Obi-Wan” in neon blue icing. Even the accompanying golden spoon was ornate, extra long and carved with a swirling pattern.
The entire thing was ridiculous, and very much not what a proper Jedi Padawan would order. What Obi-Wan had ordered was a chocolate cold cream shake, a small celebration for his eighteenth name day before he needed to leave on yet another mission with Qui-Gon and Master Dooku. Obi-Wan felt the all too familiar guilt creep into his stomach, worried that he was misbehaving, that Master Dooku would have yet another reason to chastise him.
“Dex…I…this isn’t what I ordered.” He frowned at the lavish shake. It looked delicious and his mouth watered at the smell of rich chocolate and caramel.
“Then call it a name day gift, my friend. You Jedi can’t say no to something freely given right?” Dex clasped him on the shoulder before heading back into his kitchen.
Obi-Wan continued to stare at the gift, caught between desire and his sense of duty. Qui-Gon chuckled, a playful sound that twisted Obi-Wan’s stomach in a different way than the shake.
“Go ahead Obi-Wan, Dooku never needs to know. It is your name day after all.” Qui-Gon grinned, picking at his own plate of fried tubers.
Obi-Wan stared at the shake, overwhelmed at where to start, worried that the carefully stacked desserts would crumble if he tried to dig in. Qui-Gon scooted an empty spare plate towards him and he removed the largest cakes and cookies so he could get to the cold cream underneath. He loaded his spoon as high as he dared, noticing that the caramel ribbon was perfectly swirled into the cold cream which was dotted with chunks of the same cookies and cakes that had graced the top.
“You should let me try it first, make sure it's good.” Qui-Gon said as he smiled across the table, igniting a completely unreasonable sense of possessiveness in Obi-Wan over the dessert.
Obi-Wan plopped the bite in his mouth, his eyes never leaving Qui-Gon’s. “No, it's my name day present from Dex.”
As the shake melted across his tongue, Obi-Wan found it hard to pay attention to Qui-Gon’s reaction to the rejection, and instead closed his eyes in bliss. The cold cream was rich, the chocolate was dark enough that it would have been bitter without the sweet caramel and confections. The caramel had been lightly salted, offsetting the sweetness of bits of cake and cookies, which had been dipped in more chocolate, helping them maintain their texture. It was sweet perfection in a glass and Obi-Wan couldn’t wait to have another taste.
He opened his eyes to find Qui-Gon sneakily trying to steal a spoonful for himself. “Qui-Gon, what do you think you are doing?”
“Nothing!” The Padawan lowered his spoon, trying to look rejected as he eyed the shake and plate of treats.
Obi-Wan dug deep for another bite and another, finding new and interesting textures and flavors in every spoonful. Once the glass was empty enough, he started to add the other desserts back in, finding that those cakes and cookies had been filled with a variety of jams and sauces.
Every few mouthfuls, Obi-Wan found himself batting away Qui-Gon’s attempts to steal some for himself while telling the older Padawan to stop. Halfway through the shake, the attempts became more desperate, Qui-Gon using his substantial height to lean almost entirely across the table.
“Qui-Gon, stop.” Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon’s spoon from his hand, hiding it behind the empty napkin dispenser. The other Padawan frowned and started scooting the plate of half eaten pastries toward himself, another spoon in his hand.
Obi-Wan yanked the plate back, “Stop it. Let me eat my present in peace.”
“Come on, just a nibble. It looks fantastic .” Qui-Gon’s gaze never left Obi-Wan’s face, and Obi-Wan felt his face flush red at the attention. He knew that Qui-Gon was referring to the shake, but it was hard to not imagine what it would be like if it had meant something else entirely.
By this point, Obi-Wan was full and his stomach starting to ache from the sugar and would normally have been delighted to share, but it was becoming a point of pride to not let Qui-Gon have any of the treat as their game continued.
“Just a sprinkle?”
“No! Get your own!”
“Let me lick your spoon, please I just want to know if it's as good as it looks.” Again, Obi-Wan squirmed under the piercing blue stare.
Qui-Gon reached again, trying to sneak a sprinkle from the side of the glass, “Really, Qui-Gon? What are you, a youngling? Knock it off.”
“You’re the one that has a chocolate milk-stache and caramel all over his face.” Qui-Gon smirked.
Obi-Wan reached up to feel his face, which had become coated in a layer of a layer of sugar. He groaned, embarrassed by the un-Jedi-like appearance and disgusted that he let it get that bad. His hands had also become slightly sticky as he moved the chocolate coated glass repeatedly away from Qui-Gon. He reached for the napkin dispenser, only to find it empty, as was usual at Dex’s.
“Let me help.” Qui-Gon switched to Obi-Wan’s side of their small. The seat was only designed for one and Obi-Wan found himself leaning against the wall with Qui-Gon’s firm body pressed against his. Qui-Gon held out the hem of his tunic, which he dipped in one of their water glasses. Obi-Wan internally gagged but held still as Qui-Gon wiped his face and hands with the wet shirt. He knew he should be embarrassed by the treatment, but the touch was gentle and kind, caring.
When Qui-Gon sat back, checking his work, Obi-Wan felt a twinge of sadness at the loss of contact.
“Hold on, I missed a spot.” Qui-Gon leaned in close enough for Obi-Wan to feel his warm breath on his cheek and his racing heart. Instead of the rough tunic fabric Obi-Wan had expected, soft lips kissed the corner of his mouth. Obi-Wan felt his cheeks heat, the blush spreading across his face.
“Delicious. Thank you for the taste.” Qui-Gon whispered, giving him a mischievous smile before scooting away. “We should get going, Master Dooku will be expecting us back at the Temple any minute.”
As Qui-Gon walked away to pay their bill, Obi-Wan rubbed the corner of his mouth. Maybe next time, he wouldn’t mind sharing.