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“Padawan, are you alright?” Obi-Wan’s Master looked at him with the aloof concern Obi-Wan had come to associate with genuine worry for his well being over the past five years. Master Dooku might not have been the most compassionate of masters, but he did care deeply for his Padawans, even if he didn’t always show it.
“I’m fine, Master.” Obi-Wan wasn’t actually sure he was fine, he felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin or die trying.
In the hour and forty-five minutes since devouring what was probably two pounds of the most delicious dessert he had ever encountered, Obi-Wan’s body had begun to betray him, the unexpected energy coursing through his veins causing havoc on his carefully crafted control.
The flush he felt every time he remembered the soft brush of Qui-Gon’s lips against the corner of his mouth wasn’t helping anything either. He felt twitchy, unable to stop fidgeting as he shuffled from foot to foot.
Obi-Wan took deep breath, fighting his body’s natural reaction to what he assumed was the absurd amount of sugar and emotional upheaval. He was becoming increasingly sure what he was experiencing was what he had heard called a sugar rush, but with how unused to overindulging on treats he was, he couldn’t be certain.
“If you say so, Padawan. You will need to have your wits about you while flying today. There were reports of a small debris field we will need to skirt to leave orbit today.” Dooku swept into the ship, signaling for his two Padawans to follow.
Obi-Wan grabbed their travel bags and followed to the cockpit to prepare for takeoff. It felt like everyone around him was moving in slow motion and he bounced on his toes as he waited for his Master and brother Padawan to join him.
They had been assigned a simple mission to Alderaan to witness a wedding of a long standing friend of the Jedi. Obi-Wan looked forward to having a relatively peaceful mission after the stress of the last three or four off planet adventures they had. As he entered the planet’s coordinates, Obi-Wan found his leg practically bouncing.
“Are you ready for takeoff, Master?” Dooku nodded before leaving Obi-Wan alone with Qui-Gon to head to his rooms.
“Everything okay, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked, watching Obi-Wan’s twitching leg with interest.
“Yep, everything is great!” Obi-Wan grinned excitedly, the energy in his body rapidly building, looking for an outlet he couldn’t afford to give it.
He thought he heard Qui-Gon sigh as he began their climb, his mental control slipping even further. As they broke free of the atmosphere, Obi-Wan could see the debris his Master had mentioned. It would be easiest if they simply flew around the trash, but it would be quicker to go straight through.
Obi-Wan sped up, heading right towards the debris, letting the surge of energy and glee take control. The sensation, the manic freedom, was something he had never experienced in his eighteen years, something completely outside his normally calm and controlled self. If he had even a fraction of his normal mental facilities, he would have been appalled at what he was about to do.
“Obi-Wan, maybe we should—“
Whatever Qui-Gon was about to suggest was lost when Obi-Wan rolled their ship sharply left, sliding them between two pieces of metal junk, causing the older Padawan to loudly yelp. Obi-Wan felt what could only be described as a giggle bubble out of his mouth at the sound, elation filling his heart as he weaved again.
Another chunk loomed in front of them, forcing Obi-Wan to nosedive underneath it. The ship jerked with the motion, sending Qui-Gon almost face first into the controls. Before Qui-Gon could catch his breath to protest, Obi-Wan had begun looping their way through a field of smaller pieces, laughing almost maniacally.
He felt good, the rush practically singing in his veins as he rolled and dived, spun and dodged. As the debris field began to clear, leaving them in empty space, sorrow crept through his chest.
As he leveled the ship out, the comm crackled, “Padawan, what in Sith Hells are you doing?”
“Leaving orbit, Master.” Obi-Wan answered, honestly, trying to regain control of his emotions and the laughter that threatened to consume him.
“Do you think you can possibly do it without the theatrics?” Dooku sounded irritated, even over the speaker.
“I will try, Master.” Obi-Wan caught a brief glimpse of his Master’s annoyance in their training bond as the comm abruptly ended.
It only made Obi-Wan giggle harder, the laughter cramping his stomach as they approached yet another chunk of debris, this one larger than any of the previous. It would have been easily avoidable, a single piece floating in empty space. The piece shifted, revealing a hole that they could fly right through and Obi-Wan snickered in excitement.
“Obi-Wan, maybe we should simply go around this time.” Qui-Gon pointed out the obviously clear path to any side of the chunk.
“It’s okay, I’ve got this.” Obi-Wan grinned and increased the thruster power, preparing to thread their way through the metal.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Qui-Gon murmured as he grabbed onto his seat, prepared for the worst as Obi-Wan sped ahead, still laughing.
Obi-Wan gasped as he tilted the ship once more, leaving it sideways so they would fit through the narrow gap. The fit was tighter than Obi-Wan had expected and the ship bounced and jiggled as it grazed the edges of the debris.
What felt like an eternity later, they shot out the other side with a shutter of metal on metal, Obi-Wan happily laughing the entire time.
“Was that really necessary, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon choked out, his knuckles still white from holding on for his life.
Obi-Wan laughed, “Maybe not necessary, but it was fun wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know if that’s what I would call it.” Qui-Gon shook his head, weather in disbelief or to clear his head, Obi-Wan couldn’t tell. He quickly initiated the hyperdrive, and leaned back to enjoy the view. They had a few hours before they were scheduled to arrive.
As the stars raced past, streaks of white and blue, nausea began building in Obi-Wan’s stomach, sharp and bitter. Then, just as suddenly as it began, his energy vanished, leaving Obi-Wan too exhausted to fight the bile that was rising up his throat. He felt absolutely awful, almost worse than the time he had caught the Csillian flu on a mission.
“I…I’ll be right back.” Obi-Wan choked out as he rushed out of the cockpit, leaving Qui-Gon to finish setting the ship to autopilot.
The refresher had never seemed so impossibly far away as he shuffled down the hall, using the wall to maintain his balance. His stomach gurgled and bubbled, and Obi-Wan forced his over exerted body to move faster. His body began to object the treatment further, sweat pouring from his brow and small quivers shooting through him.
Once he finally collapsed over the vacc tube and his protesting stomach forcefully emptied its contents, Obi-Wan was filled with regret for his earlier pride, both for his unwillingness to share the shake gifted from Dex with Qui-Gon and for letting the sugar fueled energy guide his flying.
Soft footsteps approached him from behind and Qui-Gon’s large hand delicately moved his braid back, before gently resting on his shoulder, steadying Obi-Wan as his body forced out the last bit of his earlier mistakes.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.” Qui-Gon practically lifted Obi-Wan from the floor and guided him to the sink to brush his teeth and clean his face.
The strong hands never left Obi-Wan’s body, keeping him upright and filling him with warmth as they made their way down the hall to their shared sleeping room. Qui-Gon helped him sit at the edge of his bunk before kneeling to remove Obi-Wan’s boots.
“I can do that you know.” Obi-Wan weakly protested, pulling his feet away.
“Yes, I know. However, I would prefer it if you didn’t throw up all over our floor.” Qui-Gon smiled and tugged Obi-Wan’s boots back toward himself before removing them.
Another wave of exhaustion and shivering shot through Obi-Wan and he allowed himself to be pushed backwards onto the couch and a warm blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. It smelled faintly of Qui-Gon, of tea and clean laundry. Qui-Gon moved away as if to leave the small room and Obi-Wan’s heart sank.
“Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan whispered, hesitant, unsure of how Qui-Gon would respond to his selfish request.
“Yes, Obi-Wan?”
“Would you mind staying with me? Just for a little while.”
“Of course I’ll stay.” The edge of the bunk dipped, “Can you scoot backwards a bit?”
Obi-Wan shuffled towards the wall, giving Qui-Gon room to stretch out next to him, the taller man leaning against the wall as Obi-Wan rested his pounding head against Qui-Gon’s side. Gentle fingers carded through his sweat matted fair, pushing it away from his brow. Obi-Wan let Qui-Gon’s warmth surround him, comforting, as his body finally began to regulate.
Obi-Wan began to slip into sleep, his heart full and peaceful. He felt a gentle brush of lips against his forehead, light enough that he would have thought it a figment of his imagination, had it not been for the soft whisper of love he felt through the Force.
“I will always stay by your side, my Obi-Wan. As long as you want me.”