Biting his lower lip, Obi-Wan ran his hands along the chemise he had
finally settled on buying, staring at himself in the mirror he had
bought just to get a good look at himself.

It
seemed extremely vain of him, buying a full length mirror but he had
just… he just wanted to see himself!

It
wasn’t the Naboo set he had been drawn in by and that Shay had let
him try on but the Alderaan royal, a spaghetti strapped chemise in a
deep violet with golden thread stitching of thrantas, which made it
into an Alderaan outfit, flying along the along the hem.

The
hem itself was resting on the top of his thighs, showing of the silky
matching underwear.

Staring
at himself in the mirror, Obi-Wan let out a slightly breathless
laugh.

He
felt gorgeous. For the first time in a very long time,
not since he was a teenager, he actually felt pretty.

Maybe
he should feel ashamed but Shay had reassured him that there were
many people that wore things like this under their clothes. Hell,
from what Shay had implied, Obi-Wan wasn’t the first Jedi that had
stumbled over the shop.

‘And
no one has to know…’ Obi-Wan reminded himself, reaching for his
leggings on his bed.

He
could wear all these frilly, lacy and silky things beneath his normal
wear, no one had to know what kind of underwear he preferred though
he would need to wear normal things for missions. One could never
know when clothes got ruined or you’d have to share extremely close
quarters with whoever you were with.

You
often saw your mission partners naked and Obi-Wan had one horrifying
memory of Yoda’s wrinkled butt.

Now
that had been a mission seared into his brain forever, the horrifying
image of a green, wrinkled prune of a butt hobbling into a fresher.

Don’t
get him wrong, it was bound to happen, witnessing an old butt with
how tight accommodations were on missions but Obi-Wan did wish it
wasn’t Yoda’s butt.

And as
far as he knew, he was the only Jedi to witness that horror.

Quinlan
and Qui-Gon had brought him several drinks, the latter more amused at
the horror while the former was sympathetic and also horrified.

Sufficient
to say, this closeness meant that Obi-Wan would not be wearing any
lace or silk on mission, leaving his pretty getup at home.

But
here, at home and maybe on lavish missions potentially though most
likely not, Obi-Wan would be allowed to wear all the silk and pretty
things he wanted.

Underneath
the tunic and leggings.

Turning
back to the full length mirror, Obi-Wan stared at himself, his cheeks
flushing dark underneath his beard even as he beamed at himself.

He
didn’t look any different.

Maybe
a bit disheveled and yet still Master Kenobi, tunic, high collar
shirt, tabards, sash and tunic, just a standard Jedi to anyone
looking at him.

Nothing
special.

And
yet every time he moved, Obi-Wan felt special and almost like he was
walking on air as he made his way out of his room while pushing his
hair out of his face.

His
door swished open and he stepped out and catching sight of his
padawan sitting on the couch, focused on something in his lap. “Hello
Anakin.” He chirped out

The
blond jumped a bit in surprise, turning quickly on the couch to blink
at him.“Hi master,” He trailed a bit off, staring at him. “Are
you feeling alright?” Anakin questioned hesitantly, watching
Obi-Wan come around the couch to settle down.

Glancing
down at the others lap, finding a homework pad, Obi-Wan smiled as he
felt the glide of silk against his skin as he settled against the
back of the couch. “I’m feeling marvelous padawan.” He
sighed happily, closing his eyes as he relaxed.

Missing
Anakin staring at him in both bewilderment and hesitant joy.