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The healer said Obi-Wan would be alright; it was just a normal case of the flu. Nothing to worry about as long as he took his medicine and kept his rest. And Qui-Gon trusted them fully, really. But no amount of reassurances would have stopped the tidal wave of relief that washed over him when he spotted his young Padawan bundled in blankets in the corner of their sofa when he returned to their quarters.
“How are you feeling?” Qui-Gon asked as he sat carefully next to Obi-Wan, arranging one of the blankets around his body as an afterthought. Obi-Wan groaned and barely opened his eyes.
“Fantastic, Master,” he replied with a pointed roll of the eyes that got a huff of laughter from Qui-Gon.
“Is your fever up, again?” He leaned over Obi-Wan just enough to place a hand on the sweaty forehead. Not for the first time, Qui-Gon realized how his palm could cover half of Obi-Wan’s face. He was warm. A quick check to the chrono over the wall confirmed that Obi-Wan was due for his medication again. That explained the fever. Sighing, Qui-Gon stood up. “Let me get your pills. And you could try to have some dinner.”
A new groan was all the reply he got.
Qui-Gon retrieved the bottle with pills and checked their small fridge for something that could be heated up. He didn’t have much success and decided that it’d be wiser to comm someone from the refectory to bring them some soup. He returned to the sofa with a cup of tea and the prescribed pills. Obi-Wan was buried under the many layers of blankets again.
“Come on, Obi-Wan. The medicine will make you feel better. And the tea will help your throat.”
Obi-Wan peeked at him, still half hidden by a blue blanket and coughed. Qui-Gon held the objects a bit higher so he could see them, and finally he came out of his shelter. He took the cup of tea first, blew a little over it and tasted it, probably checking the temperature before extending a hand in Qui-Gon’s direction. He placed the pills of the pale hand and observed Obi-Wan as he swallowed them with a big gulp of tea.
There was something like yearning in the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach. Obi-Wan’s fourteenth birthday had placed him in that strange limbo between childhood and adulthood, and that was reflected both in his appearance and his attitude towards his Master. Qui-Gon was surprised to find himself longing for the chance to enjoy Obi-Wan’s childhood for a little longer. His brow furrowed and he chased the thought away. There was joy in watching Obi-Wan grow up.
“Everything alright, Master?”
Obi-Wan took him out of his reverie, cup half empty in both hands, some shade of color returning to his cheeks. Qui-Gon tilted his head and smiled.
“Of course, Obi-Wan.” He looked at his raised eyebrows for a second and dismissed the silent question with a hand gesture. “Do you want to watch a holo or something?”
A part of Qui-Gon was prepared to hear a refusal, and so it was a real surprise when Obi-Wan nodded enthusiastically and moved across the sofa until they were close enough that they could share Obi-Wan’s mess of blankets.
They chose a holo they’d both watched many times already and when Qui-Gon returned to his spot on the sofa, he found Obi-Wan curling next to him, enveloping him in his blankets and immediately sinking into his side. Qui-Gon did his best effort to contain his amusement, and instead of giggling, he threw a protective arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
In the warm, dark room only illuminated by the glow of the holo, Qui-Gon Jinn forgot all about anticipated nostalgia and allowed himself to enjoy the moment. The future could wait for that night.