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When Obi-Wan was twenty five and nearing the end of his apprenticeship, he and Qui-Gon were sent to Alderaan, to help mediate the growing unrest and conflict between the noble houses of Alderaan over who should take the place of the previous ruler of the planet.
According to everything Obi-Wan could find, such transitions of power were normally very smooth; Alderaan was core world and well respected in the Senate. However, after three votes, all of which ended in deadlocks, the High Council of Alderaan had reached out to the Jedi Order, and so Qui-Gon Jinn, one of the greatest negotiators and diplomats the Order had to offer had been sent, and as always, Obi-Wan had accompanied him.
Obi-Wan had familiarized himself with the mission as he always did, reading the information sent by the Council and augmenting it with him own research. The two families most involved in the conflicted where Houses Organa, an old and well respected house, and House Antilles, a slightly more recent addition to the noble cast, but no less respected by the planet’s population. In order to hold the position, the selected official required the support of the High Council.
All in all, when they finally arrived on the landing platform of the Alderaanian palace and Legislative building, which skillfully and seamlessly melded from one to the other around the central platform, Obi-Wan felt ready. After all, this was hardly different than any other of the many diplomatic missions he had assisted Qui-Gon with, and Obi-Wan himself was hardly useless when it came to diplomacy and negotiation.
As he strode down the ship’s ramp at Qui-Gon’s shoulder, Obi-Wan had felt ready for anything.
He had, in fact, not been ready for Breha Organa.
The eldest daughter of the head of House Organa, Breha took Obi-Wan’s life by storm. They had not had long together, but they had not needed long. Obi-Wan had found himself solidly caught up in and entranced by the young heir to House Organa, her quick mind, sharp tongue, the dimples that appeared on her cheeks when she laughed, and her secret but horrendous sweet tooth.
All in all, he was utterly, hopelessly, head over heels for her after a mere week. Not that he had expected anything to come of it; he was a Jedi Padawan and had pledged his life to the Order. He had no regrets in that, and besides, even if he had not, he could hardly imagine Breha Organa ever wanting him.
Once again, she proved him wrong. Utterly, unequivocally wrong, and made sure there was no room for him to deny it.
It did not last, could not last. Obi-Wan knew this, and knew he should not have allowed it to begin in the first place. But it was so simple with Breha, so easy to relax, to slip into each other’s space and time, to push aside the little voice that warned him of the inevitable end and pain that it would bring, and just be.
Suddenly, all of Master Qui-Gon’s lectures on existing in the moment made sense.
They spent a month like that, enjoying each other’s company in any and every way they could, when other responsibilities did not keep them apart. Obi-Wan tried to ignore the looks Qui-Gon gave him, and for his part, the older Jedi did not say anything. Once though, at dinner, Obi-Wan turned from a story Breha was telling to catch his Master watching him with sadness in his eyes. In that moment, Obi-Wan realized that he knew, and he understood, just as he knew of where this would all lead. Obi-Wan swallowed, and quickly turned back to Breha, reassuring her that he was fine.
Their time together had been finite, right from the start, but it still felt like a painful shock, when a compromise and solution was finally reached. Obi-Wan stood, blank faced and calm at Qui-Gon’s side, as his Master and the Council representative declared that the right of succession went to House Organa, and further, that an alliance would be forge between Houses Organa and Antilles through the marriages of the heirs of both families.
That night, hidden away in the dark of her chamber, Breha kissed him for what they both knew would be the last time, and they held each other, laying still in the silence of the night. Soon it would be dawn, and Obi-Wan would return to Qui-Gon’s side, to their ship, and they would go. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and tried to will away the ache that filled his heart.
As dawn began to creep over the mountains, Breha stirred, leaning over to kiss him once last time. Before pulling away, she murmured, soft as a whisper; “No matter the time or distance, I will always love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
He smiled at her, and it was a painful thing. “Perhaps it is best if you do not. It would only bring you grief.”
But Breha, stubborn as ever, shook her head. “No, it will not. I can love more than one, Obi, and I will never allow the memory of this, of you, to make me sad.”
And what could he say to that? There were no words, not after a declaration like that, so he had kissed her (for the last time, by the Force, he swore), and then rose the bed to find his shoes.
Qui-Gon did not speak of it, when they left, and for that Obi-Wan was grateful. He focused on piloting, pointedly not looking back as they left Alderaan’s atmosphere, and told himself that the pain would pass. He was a Jedi, and Jedi do not cling to attachments.
(That did not, of course, stop the thoughts, the treacherous memories that crept up on him late at night, the memory of her smiles, her laugh, the short time they had together. Even Obi-Wan Kenobi is not strong enough to keep from wondering ‘What if?’)
Obi-Wan sighed, wondering not for the first time just how he got roped into this. Surely there were plenty of Knights and Masters better suited to playing nice with senators than he was, who did not have a teenaged Padawan to care for, and who had not just returned to the Temple after an extended and harrowing mission in the Outer Rim.
‘Master, I can hear your grumbling all the way over here.’
Obi-Wan managed to bite back another sigh, but it was a close thing.
‘Anakin, where are you?’
‘Over by the veranda. Got cornered by the Corellian and Duros senators. They’ve been quizzing me on piloting for almost an hour now.’
Obi-Wan laughed softly, and reached out to snag and delicate, long-stemmed glass of something pale green, bubbling, and most certainly alcoholic from a passing staff member. ‘Do you need an extraction, Padawan?’
Anakin’s mental voice was amused. ‘Nah, I’m good. I’ll call you if Renalti gets any more purple though.’
Obi-Wan snorted into his glass. ‘You do that. Be careful.’
‘I know, I know. Aren’t you supposed to be rubbing elbows, Master?’
‘Unfortunately.’
‘Best get to that, then.’
‘Brat.’
‘Love you too.’
Obi-Wan chuckled as the training bond he had with Anakin dulled from the clear path that allowed communication back to a general awareness of his student at the back of his mind, and took another sip of his drink. Whatever it was had a light, almost spicy flavor.
The Force trilled a warning just a moment too late, and Obi-Wan found himself being knocked forwards by a very large and distracted Twilek. Caught off guard, Obi-Wan stumbled forwards, catching his foot on an inconveniently timed mouse droid that darted past. Managing to stifle the majority of his panicked noise, Obi-Wan reached out, trying to regain his balance in the split second before he hit the floor, closing his eyes out of instinct and then…
The floor never came. Instead, Obi-Wan felt arms go around his waist, his own hands landing on something solid and warm. Distantly, he heard the sound of glass breaking, and his eyes shot open, flicking up to meet a pair of warm brown eyes. Something in Obi-Wan’s stomach gave a funny lurch.
“Are you alright, Master Jedi?”
Obi-Wan blinked, and suddenly found himself fighting a blush, as he realized he was all but sprawled against the other man’s chest.
“Yes! Yes, I’m fine!” he spluttered, scrambling back in what he hoped was at least a slightly dignified manner. “Oh, Force, I’m so sorry.”
The man followed Obi-Wan’s gaze down to the large wet patch that tracked down his left sleeve and the side of his stomach, from where Obi-Wan’s drink had spilt on him. There was alcohol dripping down his right leg as well, and a broken glass beside his foot. Apparently, he had dropped his own glass in order to catch the falling Jedi. Looking up again, the man met Obi-Wan eyes and smiled. Obi-Wan’s stomach did the funny, flippy thing again.
“No apologies are necessary,” the man said, straightening his robes with nimble fingers. “I’m glad I was able to help. Are you sure you are alright?”
Obi-Wan felt another rush of embarrassment, and quickly released it into the Force, before it could translate itself into a blush. He looked down, carefully fixing his own clothing. “Yes, I’m fine. I caught my foot, nothing more.”
Suddenly, he found himself acutely aware of the stares they were attracting, and bit back a curse. What a time for such a reoccurrence of clumsiness!
The other man seemed to notice as well. Eyes dancing with sudden teasing, he asked, “May I get you another drink, Master Jedi? To replace the one I so callously stole from you?”
Obi-Wan blinked at him for a moment, caught off guard, but the man’s smile never wavered, and slowly he found himself returning it in kind.
“That would be very kind, thank you, Senator.”
The man’s smile widened, and he turned, gesturing for Obi-Wan to accompany him. “May I ask your name, Master Jedi?”
“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Obi-Wan replied, falling into step beside him. At his name, the man blinked, surprise and recognition flitting across his features before his smile returned in full force, and he offered his hand.
“Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan.”
This time, it was Obi-Wan’s turn to blink, as he caught his surprise before it could show on his face, carefully expelling it out into the Force. Bail Organa. Though Obi-Wan had never met him before, there could be no doubt as to who this man was.
He had never met the man who was Breha’s husband to be, on that first mission to Alderaan, had never actually wanted to.
He was, without a doubt, one of the most gorgeous men Obi-Wan had ever met.
Which, of course, made everything infinitely worse.
Obi-Wan made himself smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Senator.”
Bail laughed quietly, reaching out to pluck two new glasses from a passing droid. He offered one to Obi-Wan, who took it with a more genuine smile.
“The pleasure is all mine, Master Jedi.”
Maybe it was the alcohol, but his smile left Obi-Wan with the sensation of warmth pooling in his chest.
Bail smiled as Breha’s face appeared on the screen in front of him. The Alderaanian queen was stunning, even still in her sleep clothes, dark hair pulled away from her face in a messy, twisted knot. Not for the first time, Bail thanked his gods and ancestors for whatever fortune had led to this fantastic woman allowing him into her life.
“Good morning, Love. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
Breha matched his smile with one of her own, bright and happy despite the sleep still lingering in her eyes.
“Hello, my Heart. No, I was already awake. How was the party?”
Bail snorted, moving away from the screen and beginning to work his way through the long line of tiny buttons that kept his robe closed. It would need to be cleaned before he could wear it again, what with the large, sticky patches from the drying alcohol. Behind him, he heard Breha make an appreciative noise and chuckled, slipping the robe off his shoulders and tossing it down the laundry shoot before stretching his arms and shoulders. His movements were slow and exaggerated, and he made no attempt to hide the fact. For her part, Breha said nothing to call him on it, and Bail’s smile only grew, when he turned to see the smirk on her lips.
“It was unexpectedly enjoyable,” he said, stripping down and pulling on a pair of soft grey sleep pants. The dark, formal trousers followed the robe to the laundry and he plucked the comm pad from his desk, crossing the room to sit on his bed. His skin was still vaguely sticky in places, but he could wait to shower. Both he and Breha had been so busy of late that times to talk like this, live and face to face, had become somewhat of a rarity, and he was not going to waste precious time.
Breha quirked an eyebrow. She knew only too well the extent to which Bail hated senate functions. “Oh?”
Bail nodded, leaning back against the headboard. “I met the most interesting Jedi knight.”
Breha’s eyebrow rose higher. “Did you now?”
“Yes. I believe you know him. He said his name was Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
Bail did not even bother to hide his grin at the surprise and recognition that spread across Breha’s face. “You met Obi-Wan?”
“I did.” Bail leaned closer to the screen, his smile turning sly and suggestive. “You’ve been holding out on me, my darling wife. He is much more beautiful than you lead me to believe. How on earth did you settle with me, having had him in your life?”
His words were teasing, but there was a hint of true sadness in Breha’s eyes. Bail never doubted she loved him, and never would, but they both knew that she still loved the quiet Jedi as well, and that was unlikely to fade.
But Breha was still smiling, and there was the predatory edge that Bail loved so much. “He is, isn’t he? Though I haven’t seen him in a long time.”
“He has a beard now,” Bail said. “I don’t believe you mentioned that.”
“I didn’t. It must be new since then.” Something in Breha’s expression shifted. “What did you think of him, Bail? Does he seem happy?”
Bail frowned, considering. “He’s incredibly well spoken. I can see why you two got along so well. Though he strikes me as…” he hesitated, searching for the right word to describe the faint shadows he had seen under the Jedi’s eyes, and the way his amiable smile would falter when he thought no one saw. “Tired. A little worn.”
Breha’s smile slipped into concern. “Foolish man. He never was good at taking care of himself. Always too focused on others.”
Silence stretched between the couple for a few moments, until Breha glanced up and met her husband’s eyes. “What are you plotting now, dearest husband?”
Bail widened his eyes. “Whatever do you mean, Light of my Life?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Hot Shot. I know what that look means. What are you planning?”
Bail laughed. There was no hiding anything from the Queen. “I was just thinking, if Master Kenobi cannot take care of himself, then perhaps someone else ought to.”
Breha’s smile was bright enough to light a thousand systems.
“Master Kenobi. I hear congratulations are in order.”
Obi-Wan smile was small, and Bail winced internally. The Jedi looked even more exhausted than the last time Bail had seen him, and that had only been a month ago. “Thank you, Senator. Though it is hardly of importance.”
Bail arched a brow. This man. “A position on the Jedi High Council is hardly something to thumb your nose at, or so I have been led to believe.”
Obi-Wan made an aborted movement, like he wanted to rub his hands over his face, and instead settled for smoothing out already smooth tabards. “You are right, of course, Senator. My apologies, I am not quite at my best, I’m afraid.”
Bail frowned. That was putting it lightly. He reached out, laying a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “Bail, my friend. We are hardly in a formal setting.” Obi-Wan felt too thin under his hand, too bony and fragile, and Bail’s frown deepened. “Might I persuade you to join me for a meal? It is so rare that we are both on Coruscant with time to spare these days, and it would do me good to have a conversation not about treaties and strategy.”
For a moment, it looked as if Obi-Wan would refuse, but then he sighed, ever so slightly, and nodded, a smile curling the corner of his lips. “Bail, of course. And I would never dare refuse such an honourable member of the Galactic senate.”
Bail grinned. “Wonderful! I know just the place!” He began to walk, keeping his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, steering him with ease, out of the Senate dome, and into Coruscant’s bustling streets. He paid no heed to the thrill that ran through him, when he felt Obi-Wan relax under his hand, and the other man began to smile properly.
“Stubborn man,” Bail grumbled, downing a glass of water before turning to search for brandy. On the other side of the screen, Breha laughed.
“Lose a debate, my love? I thought the plan was just lunch.”
“That was the plan, and yet here we are. I’m just glad the man never became a senator,” Bail grumbled, even as a smile fought to spread across his lips, “Or I would be out of the job.”
Obi-Wan sighed, weaving his way through the milling crowds of senators and attendants as he made a beeline for the doors. He hated having to appear before the Senate, even if it was just to give testimony on war criminals. Being away from the front lines and his men made him...twitchy, as Anakin put it. And perhaps he was right. As their General, Obi-Wan had a responsibility to his men to be on the front lines with them, and being away…
“Master Kenobi, I had hoped I might run into you.”
Looking up, Obi-Wan smiled, despite his worries, at the man who had fallen in step beside him. “Bail.”
“You look a little worse for wear, Obi-Wan,” Bail noted, giving him a quick once over. “Just get back from the Rim?”
“Only for a short time, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan nodded. “I’m headed out again tomorrow afternoon.”
Bail’s eyebrows rose. “The Jedi Council must wish you run ragged.”
Obi-Wan snorted. “Perhaps. But there are so few of us these days that I doubt it is intentional.”
Bail hummed noncommittally. “Well, then I suppose I shall have to impose on what little time you have. Will you join me for a drink, my friend? I have just received a bottle of what is apparently a particularly fine and rare vintage from Breha, and it seems a shame to drink it alone.”
Obi-Wan frowned, considering. “I really ought to get back to the Temple...but perhaps I could spare an hour or two.” He grinned, just for a moment. “If only to spare a friend the utterly unbearable fate of drinking alone.”
Bail laughed, bright and hearty, and reached out to squeeze Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are a saint among the best of us. Come, this way. We can go to my office.”
Obi-Wan leaned into the touch, even so slightly, and followed.
“His laugh is gorgeous!” Bail declared, grinning at Breha through the screen. His hair was messy and he had not yet summoned up the energy to change, but he was radiating happiness. “And Gods, but can the man drink!”
Obi-Wan bit back a wince, forcing himself to stand up straight as he made his way from the Chancellor’s office. He hurt all over, even breathing hurt, and all he wanted to do was get back to his rooms and sleep for as long as possible.
‘You’re almost home,’ he reminded himself, not for the first time that afternoon, ‘Almost home, just keep walking.’
He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his skin, as his steps caused his bruised and battered ribs to give way to another burst of pain. Around him, his surroundings began to blur, but he paid it no mind.
‘One foot in front of the other, Kenobi. You’re almost there.’
Suddenly, he found his knees were no longer supporting his weight. Odd. The ground rushed up to meet him, and distantly, he heard someone shouting his name, and then the world went dark. The last thing Obi-Wan was aware of, before he slipped into unconsciousness, was of strong arms catching him, and then warmth, and the familiar, comforting scent of cologne.
When he opened his eyes, Obi-Wan found himself in a bed in the Halls of Healing, back in the Jedi Temple. How he had gotten there, Obi-Wan had no idea, but the rhythmic beeping of a machine somewhere nearby was soothing, and there was someone holding his hand, skin warm and soft. With a quiet sigh, Obi-Wan slipped back into sleep.
The next time Obi-Wan woke, his thoughts were clearer, and the hand holding his was gone. Gingerly, he made to sit up, when the face of a Twilek healer filled his vision.
“Oh no you don’t, Master Kenobi,” she said, pressing gently against his shoulders. “You stay right where you are. You’re not at all in a state to be getting up.”
Obi-Wan wanted to protest, but for all his thoughts felt clearer, his limbs still felt leaden, and it was easier to just give in and relax back against the pillows. “What happened?” he asked, voice rough and scratchy.
The healer did not look too pleased as she said, “Exhaustion, three cracked ribs, and a minor concussion. You passed out in the Senate dome. Luckily for you, Senator Organa happened to be nearby. She nodded her head and Obi-Wan followed her gaze to the chair on the other side of the bed. There sat Bail, sound asleep, chin dropped to his chest, which rose and fell steadily with each breath.
“He’s been here since he brought you in,” the healer explained. “Refused to leave until you woke up.”
Obi-Wan said nothing, but warmth flooded his chest at her words, and he smiled, looking between the sleeping senator and the healer. “Perhaps he could stay? At least until he wakes up?”
The healer muttered something under her breath that Obi-Wan could not catch, but nodded. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. Don’t even think about getting out of that bed.”
“Of course, Healer,” Obi-Wan murmured. She snorted, and then bustled off. When she was gone, Obi-Wan turned once again to look at Bail, who still slept. He looked peaceful, and for a moment it was as if Obi-Wan could feel that peace in himself. After a moment’s hesitation, Obi-Wan reached out, catching one of Bail’s hand and squeezing it gently. Bail did not stir, but his fingers twitched in Obi-Wan’s grip, and made him smile. Soon, Obi-Wan found himself drifting off once more, breaths falling in time with Bail’s, and a smile still on his lips.
The next time he commed her, Bail looked tired, concern and irritation lingering on his features.
“Has something happened?” Breha asked, and Bail heaved a frustrated sigh.
“He’s in medical again. Nothing he won’t mend from but…” He trailed off, and then scrubbed his hand over his face. “He passed out in the Senate dome. I’m just happy I was there to catch him in time. He could have been hurt.” The thought of Obi-Wan receiving further injury made Bail grimace, and sent an unexpected pang through his chest. “He’s going to get himself killed one of these days.”
The thought left a sour taste in his mouth and fear in his heart. Clearly he would have to work faster.
The restaurant was moderately crowded, and as Obi-Wan scanned the room, the buzz of conversation swept over him like a wave. It was odd, being surrounded by civilians after so long on the front lines. There was no sense of urgency, no tension, no need to be constantly prepared for an attack. Carefully, Obi-Wan forced himself to relax, at least enough so that he did not like he was walking into a battle. This was hardly a situation where that was required, it was just meal. Just a meal, nothing more and―
“Obi-Wan!”
Obi-Wan turned at the sound of his name, a smile spreading across his lips already, despite himself. “Bail. I’m sorry, I hope I haven’t―”
He trailed off, his train of thought vanishing like blaster smoke. Bail was striding towards him, smiling wide and… Obi-Wan swallowed, knowing he was staring and yet unable to stop.
Bail was…stunning. There was no other word for it. Dark grey trousers, and his usual knee-high boots and a deep purple shirt with the lowest neckline Obi-Wan had ever seen on the other man. His over-robe, a grey so dark it was nearly black and shot through with violet that caught the odd lighting of the restaurant, flowed around him as he moved.
Obi-Wan swallowed again, his mouth dry, and struggled to pick his jaw up off the floor as Bail drew closer. As Bail reached his side, Obi-Wan sent a quick prayer to the Force that his thoughts were not showing on his face, and smiled.
“You made it!” Bail was still smiling, and there was honest joy in his voice that made Obi-Wan’s heart stutter. He reached out, clasping Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Even through the layers of fabric, Obi-Wan was acutely aware of how warm the other man’s hands were. “I was beginning to get worried.”
Obi-Wan tore his eyes away from the bob of Bail’s adam’s apple as he spoke, and the way the light illuminated Bail’s throat and collarbones. “I’m sorry. I got caught in a Council meeting that went longer than expected. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
Bail waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’ve got us a table already.”
They made their way back through the restaurant together, chatting ideally and pointedly ignoring topics the strayed too close to the war. Their table was tucked away in a corner, shielded from prying eyes and the media, for which Obi-Wan was incredibly grateful. He had never liked the attention that had seemed to follow him since Naboo, and it had only gotten worse since the war began.
Bail ordered for them both, Obi-Wan citing his utter trust in Bail’s “impeccable judgement.” He picked the wine as well, and as always, Obi-Wan was not disappointed.
It always surprised Obi-Wan, how easy it was to be in Bail’s company. He never would have expected it, especially after their…interesting first meeting, but it was. It was easier than breathing, to get lost in Bail’s laughter, the sound of his voice, his eyes.
Dessert arrived before he knew it. Tall, pale blue glasses filled with dark chocolate mousse with cream streaked through it and spiraled on top. It looked decadent and extremely expensive.
“Bail…”
“Don’t start with me, Kenobi.” Bail waved his spoon chidingly at the other man. “It’s my treat, I’ve told you, so let me treat you, and enjoy it.”
Obi-Wan frowned. “Treating me is one thing, but this―”
Bail waved his spoon again, before sticking it into his dessert. “Nope, not listening.” He took a bite and closed his eyes, humming in pleasure. “Damn, that’s good.”
Force, now there was a mental imagine that would haunt Obi-Wan’s dreams. To distract himself from the sudden and wildly inappropriate thoughts, Obi-Wan gave in and took a bite of his own dessert, if only to―
Oh. Oh Force. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, and then fell closed as he let out a soft groan.
“Good?” Bail asked, and when Obi-Wan opened his eyes, Bail was watching him carefully from across the table. Obi-Wan nodded, smiling wide.
“It’s fantastic.”
Bail matched his smile. “I’m glad! It the specialty here, and I’ve been dying for an excuse to try it.”
They ate in silence for a few moment, before Bail glanced at Obi-Wan again, and hesitated, setting down his spoon. “Oh, here. You got someone on your cheek.”
Before Obi-Wan could react, Bail reached out, cupping Obi-Wan’s face gently with his hand and swiping his thumb across the corner of his mouth. As Obi-Wan watched, shocked into stillness, Bail withdrew his hand, and stuck his thumb into his mouth, licking it clean. He smirked, something hot and predatory in his eyes. “Mmm. Definitely worth the wait.”
All the blood rushed to Obi-Wan’s face. For a moment he was caught up in that action, the touch of Bail’s hand, the flick of his tongue against his own skin.
Two seconds later, reality came crashing back to him, and he was struck by a vivid case of deja-vu. It had been his last night on Alderaan, his last night with Breha, and she had insisted on a private meal together. How she had managed to pull it off without raising awkward and unanswerable questions, Obi-Wan had no idea, but she had. The meal had ended with a dessert that was, now that he thought about it, almost exactly like this one, and one of his favorites. Then too, Breha had done an almost mirror image of what Bail, oh Force, her husband, had just done.
Obi-Wan’s heart beat a too-quick tempo in his chest, and he felt nausea rise in his throat, because he knew this feeling, had felt it with Breha, and felt it again now, with Bail.
Oh gods, he was in love with him.
He was in love with Breha’s husband, and once again, there was nothing he could do. Not without hurting one, or both of them. Oh Force, how could he have—
“Obi-Wan?” Bail’s voice snapped him out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts. The senator leaned closer once again, concern on his face. “Are you alright?”
Obi-Wan started. Bail was too close, he couldn’t do this. He shoved back from the table, lurching to his feet, panic making his pulse fly. “I need to go!” he managed, and then turned and fled, ignore Bail’s confused calling after him.
He was still in love with Breha.
He was also in love with Bail.
Two people who were happily married to each other.
By the love of the Force, he just never kriffing learned.
Breha Organa watched in barely restrained amusement as her husband stalked back and forth in front of his desk, on the other side of the vid comm screen. Bail had been pacing and rant for almost ten minutes now, since he had returned from another unsuccessful attempt of “I’m not seducing him!” “That is exactly what you are trying to do, darling.” Once again, it seemed Obi-Wan was being rather…uncooperative.
“He’s just―!” Bail came to a sudden halt, just barely visible at the edge of Breha’s screen. His eyes settled on a point just above his screen, his face twisting in the way it did when he was faced with some problem that he just couldn’t untangled, but knew the answer was just there, just out of reach. “Absolutely infuriating!”
Scowling, Bail’s hand moved as he spoke, fast gestures like he was trying to physically push his point into his listeners’ brains. Not that Breha really needed much convincing on this subject.
“It’s not like he’s not interested! Or at least, not completely disinterested! And if he was, that would be fine! But―” Scrubbing his hands over his face, Bail moved again, dropping into his desk chair with a muffled thud. “He never says no, when I invite him places. He seems to enjoy my company, and he’s started talking about you without looking like…I don’t know, like he betraying someone.”
He looked up, and there was honest grief in his eyes. It hurt Breha’s heart to see. “But every time I get close, every time he seems to start letting himself relax and come closer too, he pulls away.”
“Obi-Wan has never been one to allow himself happiness, my love,” Breha said softly.
Bail heaved a sigh and rubbed at his face again. “I know. I just…I don’t understand why. Doesn’t he realize how wonderful he is? How deserving he is of love? Of happiness?”
And there is was. Breha could see it in Bail’s eyes. Somewhere along the line, this endeavor that had started out of his desire to make her happy (because she knew her husband) had changed. Bail loved Obi-Wan as much as she did, and he had always been the type to want the people he loved happy and safe. It was one of the thing she loved about him.
“Bail,” she started, when movement behind Bail, at the far corner of her screen caught
her eye. Frowning, Breha looked up, over Bail’s shoulder, towards the door at the far side of Bail’s office.
“Oh.”
Bail frowned. “Breha? What is―” He turned, following her gaze, and stopped.
Obi-Wan stood in the doorway, eyes wide, frozen in place, and looking a tad like a cornered nerf.
“Obi-Wan―” Bail began, rising to his feet, but was cut off when Obi-Wan seemed to snap out of it, jerking like he’d been shocked.
“I-I…came to…apologize. For earlier. I’m…I’m sorry to…I should―” Obi-Wan stuttered, his words almost lost as he backed away, spinning on his heel and moving to flee the room.
“Obi-Wan, wait!” Bail crossed the room with long, purposeful steps, closing the space between himself and the Jedi, and caught his shoulder. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, gentler. “Please, wait.”
Obi-Wan tensed at the touch, and did not turn to meet Bail’s eyes, but he did not pull away. The little Breha could see of his face was stony in the way she knew meant he was conflicted. When Obi-Wan spoke, his words were almost too soft for Breha to hear.
“Bail, I can’t…I need to…”
“Please,” Bail said again, soft and pleading. “Stay. Just for little. So we can talk. Please, Obi-Wan.”
“I can’t.” Obi-Wan insisted, and there was a pained edge to his voice, a longing he was so desperately trying to cover up. “Bail, I can’t, you know―”
But he was leaning into Bail’s hand, still on his shoulder, and really, this was getting ridiculous.
Breha sighed, and then spoke, loud enough that her voice would be heard. “Obi-Wan.”
It worked. Obi-Wan froze, attention snapping to the comm screen and her, and she smiled. “Hello, Obi.”
He swallowed, a myriad of emotions flitting across his face. “Hello, Breha. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was inter―”
She scowled. “Stop that. You aren’t interrupting anything. Now please, stop fighting my husband and come sit down.”
For a moment, she thought he would try to run again, but then Obi-Wan slumped, and he nodded, making his way slowly into the room. Bail moved with him, pulling another chair next to his, offering it to Obi-Wan with a flourish of his hand. The Jedi sat gingerly, tense and ready to spring up at the slightest catalyst. Breha sighed again.
“Obi-Wan, please. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but whatever it is, that’s not the case.”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes, wouldn’t meet either of their eyes. “Breha, I’m so sorry. I never meant― Bail is a good man, a wonderful man, but I would never…I promise there is nothing―”
Bail made a shocked noise, and Breha stared at Obi-Wan in disbelief. For his part, Obi-Wan looked utterly miserable.
That would simply not do.
“Obi-Wan,” Breha said gently, and oh, how she wished she was on Coruscant, so she could touch him, sooth the lines that contorted his face, make the tension leave his frame. Obi-Wan looked like a cable pulled too tight, moments away from snapping. “Obi-Wan, I know this. Bail’s not being unfaithful, nor do I think he ever would be. You ridiculous man, would you please look at me?”
Slowly, Obi-Wan looked up, some of the painful tension giving way to confusion. Breha smiled. She had truly missed him.
“Obi, do you remember what I told you before you left Alderaan?” To her amusement, Obi-Wan blushed, cheeks going nearly as red as his hair. Beside him, Bail’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. Breha pressed on, seizing the opportunity. “I said, no matter the time or distance, I will always love you. Remember?”
Obi-Wan nodded.
“Those words are still true,” she said, watching as Obi-Wan’s eyes grew wide, and he looked from her to Bail, and then back. Bail laughed softly.
“My love, you are confusing him more.”
Breha smiled. “So I am. My apologies.” She turned her attention back to their Jedi. “Obi-Wan, what you heard is the same thing I have been hearing for the past year and a half.”
Bail made a noise of protest, and Breha grinned at the sight of the blush blooming across her husband’s face. “Breha!”
“It is hardly a lie, dear,” she teased. “And besides, he’s going to find out eventually. Obi-Wan, Bail has been trying to, for lack of a better word―”
“Please, don’t say it.”
“―seduce you, for the both of us.”
Bail groaned, covering his face with his hands, and Breha shot him a chastising look at the interruptions. “As I cannot be there myself to help.”
Obi-Wan was still gaping. “For…for the both you?”
Bail, bless him, was still blushing, but he nodded, and carefully took Obi-Wan’s hand, moving slowly to allow the other man time to pull away. He did not. “You are an infuriating seductee, you should know. Did you really think I would cheat on Breha? Especially with someone she loves, and who loves her too?”
Obi-Wan blinked, and for a moment looked horrified. “You know? I―”
“Stop that thought right now, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Breha gave him a stern look. “I told him. If it upset him, that I have room in my heart to love more than one person, do you really think we would all be here right now?”
Obi-Wan frowned, the confusion returning, and he stared at Bail’s hand, still holding his own. “But…then why am I here? If you two are happy together then why―?”
“Oh for the love of the stars, you impossible Jedi!” Bail sounded as exasperated as Breha felt. “We love you. We both love you!”
Obi-Wan blinked, slowly going even redder than before. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh, you silly man.” Bail still sounded exasperated, but he was smiling, and reached out to take Obi-Wan’s free hand.
Obi-Wan watched him do so, and then met Bail’s eyes, before turning to look at Breha. She smiled at him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he smiled back. Such a simple movement, and yet it made him look years younger, and infinitely happier.
“I have missed you, my Obi-Wan,” she said.
“Oh,” he said again, and his smile took on a goofy quality. “Oh.”
That made Breha laughed. “He’s repeating himself. You should kiss him, Bail, or that’s all we will get out of him for the next hour.”
Bail laughed as well, and leaned in, freeing one of his hands to cup Obi-Wan’s chin, bringing their gazes together. “You are very wise, my lovely wife. May I kiss you, Master Jedi?”
Obi-Wan’s blush had yet to subside, but he was still smiling, anxious tension all but gone. “To be frank, Senator, I think I would be rather disappointed if you didn’t.”
Bail laughed again, bright and joyful, and closed the space between them, meeting Obi-Wan in a gently, lingering kiss. Breha watched them, and could not stop smiling.
When they pulled apart, both men were grinning, giddy as children. Bail leaned in once more, and pressed his forehead to Obi-Wan’s. “Well, Obi-Wan?” he asked, “What of it? We love you. Could you love us to?”
Obi-Wan smiled at him, and then turned his head to smile at Breha. There was so much light in that smile, and it filled Breha’s chest with warmth.
“I do believe I could manage that.”
[Epilogue]
Bail Organa strode down the ship’s docking ramp, robes swirling around him in the wind, a shifting blend of violet and grey. Beside him, Obi-Wan Kenobi kept pace. Hands folded in the sleeves of his dark robe, and dressed in the typical tans and browns of his Order, the Jedi general made a more subdued figure than the Alderaanian senator at his side, but there was brilliant smile spreading across his lips, brighter than any sun or star.
The landing platform was empty, save for a lone figure dressed in a deep blue gown. Her dark hair was twisted into a simple bun atop her head, and she smiled serenely at the approaching figures.
When they were only a few meters away, Bail picked up speed, closing the space between them in three long strides. He wrapped his arms around Breha’s waist, picking her up and spinning her around once, before pulling her in for a kiss. Laughing, she stroked his cheek. “I’ve missed you too, Hot Shot.”
Bail grinned at Breha, and kissed her again for good measure. “It has been far too long. Vid calls do not do you justice.”
Breha laughed, and then turned her attention to Obi-Wan, who had finally made it to their side and was hesitating. The Jedi was still smiling, but it was shy, unsure.
“Obi-Wan.” Breha stepped out of Bail’s arms and held out a hand to the other man. Obi-Wan took it, allowing her to pull him into an embrace. She hugged him tight, and pulled back enough to cup his cheeks and search his face for a long moment. “It has been far, far too long.”
“That it has,” Obi-Wan agreed, hands settling lightly on her waist. “Though you have not changed at all, my dear.”
“And you, Master Jedi, are a flatterer of the first degree. I must say, I do like the beard.” She laughed, and tugged on it gently, before rising up on her toes to kiss him.
When they broke apart, Breha turned, keeping one hand on Obi-Wan and holding the other out to Bail, who had been watching them with a warm smile on his lips, and a spark in his eyes that made her grin and set a warmth burning in her belly as he took her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing her knuckles, before twining their fingers together.
Glancing back at Obi-Wan, she was gratified to see he has noticed it too, and the beginnings of a blush was burning on his cheeks. Her grin grew, and turned into a smirk.
“Come along then, loves. We have three days, and much longer than that to make up for. I, for one, do not intend to waste a moment.”
Obi-Wan and Bail exchanged looks, and Bail grinned. “You heard her, Obi-Wan. Shall we?”
Obi-Wan grinned back, eyes dancing. “I will never argue with such a wise plan of action. I believe we shall.”
Breha made an impatient noise that set both men off laughing, and with that, the three turned, hand in hand, and made their way back into the palace.
(And waste a moment, they did not.)