Chapter Text
"I apologize for my forgetfulness, Master Windu," Obi-Wan said as they approached the door to his quarters. "I meant to bring them to the council meeting."
Mace waved off the repeated apology. "A short walk has never killed anyone."
His countenance may not have shown it, but he was excited about the teas. He'd run out of the last batch nearly a week ago, and Obi-Wan had been singing the praises of its replacement, and of the samples that arrived with it, all morning.
Nothing prepared Mace's mind for meditation like a freshly brewed cup of tea, so the walk was well worth it. He only hoped he wouldn't find Skywalker in Obi-Wan's quarters. One could never be certain.
"After you."
The door opened, and Mace stepped in—right into a mass of large red flowers. Barely visible from behind it was a head of tousled dark blonde hair.
"Master Windu!"
"Skywalker."
The flowers were quickly removed, but not before Mace noticed the large note attached to them that read 'Thank you for last night.'
There was more. Every surface in sight was set with different sized vases of the same flowers. On the floor, a trail of petals led to the bedroom.
Mace turned to the Jedi Master beside him with a quizzical look. The blood had drained from Obi-Wan's face. His lips formed into an embarrassed smile.
"This is most unexpected.” Flustered, he ran a hand through his hair. "I-I will go fetch the teas."
He walked off as if he couldn't get away fast enough. Meanwhile, Mace turned his attention to Skywalker, who had set down the giant vase and stood looking at the floor, his face nearly matching the color of the flowers.
"Nabooian red gardenias," Mace commented, reaching out to admire the velvety petal of a nearby blossom. “Quite expensive."
He wondered what kind of underhanded business Skywalker must be engaging in to be able to afford such luxuries. Skywalker merely shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Here they are," Obi-Wan said brightly as he returned, carrying two canisters—one regular sized and the other rather small. His cheeks were even redder than Skywalker's.
Mace accepted the canisters. At the last moment, he resisted the urge to make a comment about attachment, fearing that Obi-Wan might faint from the mixture of embarrassment and the heady scent of the flowers perfuming the air.
"Thank you, Master Kenobi. How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing!" Obi-Wan said quickly, running his hand through his hair again. "Consider it a gift."
Mace took this as his cue to leave. With a nod at Obi-Wan, he turned on his heel, more eager to get away than he had been to arrive. He felt a sense of great relief in the Force as the door shut behind him.
🌺~🌺~🌺
Obi-Wan carefully made his way to the sofa, suddenly lightheaded, and sat down. He pinched the bridge of his nose as mortification continued to rush through him in waves. Breathing slowly and deeply, he released the feeling into the Force.
"Master?" his former padawan prodded gently.
"Shut up, Anakin."
"If it's any consolation," Anakin said, "I don't think it came as much of a surprise. Everyone must have heard you last night."
Obi-Wan looked up and noticed the self-satisfied smirk on Anakin's face. "Why, you insolent—"
Seeing him stand, Anakin turned and ran to the bedroom, laughing. Obi-wan followed, face set with determination.
"Let's see who's louder, shall we?"