Smiling
down at his hands as he slowly worked with the clay taking form in
front of him, Obi-Wan ignored the flashing of cameras
that accompanied
the long haired man that looked more like a hippie from the 70’s as
he entered
Obi-Wan’s
shop
as standard on thursday’s as they had agreed well
over a year ago.

Qui-Gon
Jinn was famous, or infamous depending on who you asked.

And
Obi-Wan had long ago gotten used to the blitz of camera’s when the
other was around.

He
was considered something of an odd duck among the fashion elites that
Obi-Wan had somehow found himself wrapped in with, something he had
blamed entirely
on
his maternal
grandfather
and the companies the man was supposedly leaving to Obi-Wan.

To
be fair, it was also his grandfather’s generous nature with his
grandson that allowed Obi-Wan to hold a pottery shop mostly as a
hobby and something to do even if it did not always sell well.

Yan
had been very prolific in making an empire for his only remaining
relative and grandson to
ensure he would be well to do once the time came that it was only
Obi-Wan though the redhead hoped that would be far away even as Yan
dragged him to arrangement because of said empire.

And
with those came the parties and catwalks and so on where Obi-Wan had
meet Qui-Gon.

The
man was not like most high up fashion people.

He
made sensible good clothes yet managed to remain high up and show up
on the catwalks with his works somehow.

Deep
pockets for ladies, cute purses with enough little pockets and big
ones for the items a lady would need and yet still pockets on pants,
shirts and even dresses that would send most common people to drool.

And
yet he was versatile and also made high end, beautiful gowns in what
Obi-Wan had learned was a mermaid shape.

His
most famous work, the mermaid heart, was a beautiful black mermaid
gown with a heart neckline but what made it really unique was the
translucent, iridescent white scales covering the black dress from
the hip down that made it a true mermaid dress.

And
yet Qui-Gon himself, despite of or maybe because
of, wore nothing but comfortable clothes.

Washed
out t-shirts, too large sweaters, cardigans with a patch job and
jeans with holes clearly not designed and more accidental as one
tabloids had been all about when a shot of the man had surfaced with
a large thigh hole of all thing exposing his boxers.

And
then there was the normal range the man made.

Tops
with inspirational quotes, flowy dresses in soft flower patterns and
vines and nice, hip hugging pants with sudden lighting striking up or
down the pant legs in what Obi-Wan would almost call delicate
embroideries.

The
first time the two had meet Obi-Wan had wanted nothing but to plant
his fist to Qui-Gon’s nose, the man’s too dismissive nature being
too close to arrogance for Obi-Wan’s comfort.

It
wasn’t the case.

Well,
Qui-Gon could be arrogant but it was just that Qui-Gon liked to be in
the moment and to be honest, Qui-Gon had not
wanted to be at the catwalk show Yan had forced Obi-Wan to be at.

It
was a misunderstanding the two had managed to clear up in after the
two had somehow ended up at a cafe, dripping water when the fire
sprinklers had somehow gone off.

And
somehow…

The
two had come into this habit, of Qui-Gon coming to Obi-Wan’s shop
on thursday a bit before lunch.

Slowing
down the plate, Obi-Wan cleaned his hands on the towel beside him and
looked up, smiling at the long haired man standing in front of him as
he took in the state of Qui-Gon’s work stained jeans and obvious
paint splatters on his black tank top with the quote, ‘live in the
moment’ on it, clearly one of his own.

His
hair was almost proper compared to everything else, especially the
ratty converse Qui-Gon had on, tied up as the long hair was in a bun.

Finally
nodding as he stood, Obi-Wan greeted the man. “Qui-Gon, you’re
late.” The two expertly ignored the press still taking pictures,
having gotten used to them being the latest ‘hit’ in the
tabloids.

Chuckling,
Qui-Gon held up a tote bag. “Hopefully this will be appeasement. I
brought dumplings from that little restaurant you showed me two weeks
ago,” Qui-Gon stated teasingly, grinning wryly before glancing at
the pot, raising a brow. “Don’t you need to finish that before
you go. Let it dry?” He asked curiously.

Dropping
the towel, Obi-Wan shook his head with a wry grin as he lead the man
to the backroom for their dumpling lunch, eager as he knew he had
some leftover fried rice the two could have together with
them.
“Not really, it was just a little project I was having while
waiting,
nothing serious.” He stated, leaning closer to the other man’s
side.

He
wasn’t sure if Qui-Gon was a good designer or a bad designer, but
he was a designer normal people liked and able to amaze the floss of
high society with
his gowns when he wanted to.

And
he also had a delightful deep brogue singing voice after two cups of
dark cider Obi-Wan admitted internally.