Chapter Text
They have very little concept of personal space.
For someone like Qui-Gon’s padawan - a young man who is well known among his peers for being prickly and uncomfortable with physical touch - it’s nothing short of miraculous that he not only tolerates Fett’s frequent and often blunt invasions of his person but even goes so far as to seek him out when they’ve been separated for too long.
After months chained together, unable to step more than a foot away from each other at any point, Qui-Gon is honestly impressed they can even stand the sight of each other. His biggest concern when accepting the uncomfortably small light cruiser as transport off Mandalore is the lack of real privacy it allows any of them. Qui-Gon doesn’t mind so much, long used to far less hospitable accommodation, but Obi-Wan can be shy and these last few months have been trying.
He’s prepared to offer the single bunk to his exhausted padawan and equally prepared to be stern with the boy. Obi-Wan will twist himself into knots to be as little an inconvenience as possible, often to the point where Qui-Gon forgets his apprentice is even in the room with him: he’ll never willingly take the only bed at his Master’s expense.
Tracking Obi-Wan to the small engine room, Qui-Gon has the first words of a firm order on his tongue, which is likely why he nearly ends up choking on it.
Obi-Wan and Fett have been through a lot together: some level of dependency is perhaps to be considered normal. Though, as previously considered, he has expected Obi-Wan to withdraw from Fett as he’s want to do with Qui-Gon. Instead, he finds Fett wedged into a misshapen chair that’s been propped between the fusion generator and the cooling tank. There’s only a few inches either side of the chair’s arms, but somehow Qui-Gon’s teenage apprentice has managed to not only curl himself up on Fett’s lap, but he’s wedged his legs right up against the engine. It’s a position only a seventeen-year-old can adopt without fear for their spine, which is likely why he’s in it. Fett, equally as bizarrely, has both his arms wrapped around Obi-Wan’s waist.
There’s a lot Qui-Gon needs to talk to Obi-Wan about: many of the things he suspects have happened to the boy on Concordia will require patience and understanding and support on Qui-Gon’s part. He’s not looking forward to any of it, far too accustomed to putting his foot in his mouth when the boy’s sensitive spirit shows itself, and he’s not considered for a moment that they’re going to have to have that talk as well.
Fett is far too old for him, for a start, and Qui-Gon has never once seen his apprentice show even a hint of interest in anyone. Not in that way at least. He gets attached to people far too quickly and frequently gets hurt for his troubles, but it’s always platonic, innocent. This is, well...
There’s nothing wrong with the way the two of them are cuddled up together. Not with the way Obi-Wan has his head tucked under Fett’s chin or the way Fett has a fist full of Obi-Wan’s robes as though he’s half expecting someone to try and separate them. It’s rather sweet, actually, and Force knows Obi-Wan needs the rest. It’s just...
He realizes too late that he’s being watched. Fett doesn’t trust him and he certainly doesn’t like him and in all honesty, Qui-Gon can understand why. He’s just not sure if Fett has simply attached himself to Obi-Wan or if Obi-Wan has attached himself to Fett: each requires a very different kind of intervention.
Fett’s arms tighten around Obi-Wan, possessively or protectively, Qui-Gon can’t tell.
Obi-Wan, without opening his eyes, mutters, “Stop scowling.”
In an instant, Qui-Gon is forgotten. “I’m not scowling,” Fett grumbles.
“I can hear you.”
“You can hear me scowling?”
“Hmm. The Force.”
“The Force doesn’t give a kriff what my face is doing,” Fett snorts. He reaches up with the hand that’s not tangled in Obi-Wan’s robe and tucks his padawan braid behind his ear. Obi-Wan flinched when Qui-Gon tried to help him rebraid it, but Fett is allowed the freedom to make the tender gesture. Obi-Wan cuddles closer, clearly comfortable despite the way he’s twisted.
“It’s going to freeze your face like that.”
“I think it’s got better things to do with its time, n’edee.”
There’s no doubt in Qui-Gon’s mind that Fett is being affectionate, despite uttering what should be a grave insult in his tongue. He’s even more surprised when Obi-Wan smiles, sighing contentedly and tightening his own first in Fett’s tunic. “An’ee,” he fires back.
“Di’kutla jetii,” Fett grumbles.
“Nar dralshy'a.” Obi-Wan has always been quick to pick up new languages, but his Mando’a has clearly improved significantly under Fett’s tutelage. Or at the very least his ability to argue has. For some odd reason, the observation stirs a pang of regret in Qui-Gon’s chest. When was the last time Obi-Wan argued with him? Truly? The boy is seventeen; Qui-Gon did nothing but argue with his Master when he was that age.
“Mir'sheb.”
“Go to sleep, Jango,” Obi-Wan says, softer now, and surprisingly gentle. “We’re safe here, I promise.”
Fett grunts, begrudgingly looking back at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon bows his head in a way he hopes expresses his agreement with Obi-Wan’s statement, but it’s clear Fett has no real idea how to let his guard down in this new, strange environment.
Perhaps his presence is making things worse? Fett is clearly comfortable with Obi-Wan, which puts Qui-Gon in line for what must be unsettling him. He nods and then turns to leave. As he goes, he catches the first notes of a soft lullaby whispered in Obi-Wan’s soothing voice. He can’t remember ever hearing Obi-Wan sing before and tries to think where he recognizes the song from. It’s not one of the many melodies that are shared by children in the creché: Obi-Wan has likely picked it up off-world.
Moving slowly, as to both fulfill his end of the silent promise to leave them in peace and to indulge the soft part of his heart that is still aching with the worry that’s gripped it during Obi-Wan’s absence, understanding finally sinks in.
Cerasi sang this song to the children on Melida/Daan. She likely sang it to Obi-Wan, too, after Qui-Gon...
His presence is not needed here. Nor, perhaps, is it welcome.
If Obi-Wan feels safe enough with Fett to let his guard down so intimately, Qui-Gon owes it to the boy to help preserve that sanctity, not disrupt it.
Letting the door to the engine room slide silently closed behind him, Qui-Gon makes his way to the cockpit. It’s time to let the Council know that he’s found his missing apprentice. It’s time to let the boy’s friends know that Qui-Gon hasn’t completely failed him again.