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Can we have Qui-Gon cuddles Obi-Wan and pets his hair (basically spoil Obi rotten) after a very dangerous mission?

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“Obi-Wan, stop that, you don’t have to do that right now.”
Qui-Gon murmured quietly as the sixteen year old fussed over the
teapot.

“But I alwa-”

“No, no come here Obi-Wan. I don’t need tea right now and you’re
not allowed caffeinated tea by the healers for a week.” It was time
to be firm with his padawan. Obi-Wan instantly stopped with the pot,
limping over to his Master on the couch.

With a firm hand, Qui-Gon pulled the younger man down on the couch
and then pulled him against his chest. One muscled arm wrapped around
the narrow back and firmly pinned his padawan against Qui-Gon’s
chest, functioning like an iron bar.

“Master?” The other meeped.

“You are going to remain right there. You’re going to relax. I’m
going to hold you and you’re going to let your injuries rest.”
Qui-Gon offered severely before gentling his grip and shifting one of
Obi-Wan’s hands up with his free hand. “Look at you, every inch
of you is bruised and what is not bruised is covered in bandages.”
He offered quietly as he stared at the bandage covered fingers before
he let go, remembering how those hands had desperately scrambled to
cling to crumbling rocks, ripping and tearing Obi-Wan’s hands to
blood.

“I’m okay though…” Obi-Wan blinked before closing his eyes
when Qui-Gon started running his hand through his short hair, rubbing
his scalp with blunt fingertips.

“You’re okay now. You weren’t earlier. You’re only okay now
because of the healers.”

Week after week of dangerous missions, running them both ragged and
tiring them both out. Qui-Gon couldn’t help but be grateful for the
healers for firmly removing them of the active duty rooster,
especially since his padawan was black and blue where he wasn’t cut
up. “I want you to relax padawan mine. We’re not going anywhere
today or tomorrow except perhaps to the commissary.”

The copper head flopped onto his chest as Obi-Wan took his master’s
words to heart, his breathing easing up as he listened to the steady
thump of the others heart.

“How did you get so banged up padawan mine…really you need to
stop using yourself as bait.” Qui-Gon murmured as he steadily ran
his fingers through the soft short hair and teased down the back of
his head and onto his nape, rubbing slowly.

Obi-Wan shrugged a bit. “It seems to work though…”

“Self sacrifice is part of being a Jedi but not to this extent
Obi-Wan my dear padawan.” He pressed a kiss to the other mans
forehead, rubbing over his shoulders and upper back. “Sacrificing
your life is the last resort.”

Obi-Wan just hummed quietly, enjoying the slow and steady massage to
his sore and abused muscles.

“You’re not listening to me.” Qui-Gon chuckled, his chest
rumbling beneath the redhead’s ear.

“I always listen.” Obi-Wan yawned a bit, delighting in the sound
beneath his ear. “I’m your dutiful padawan after all.”

“My perfect padawan.” Qui-Gon offered fondly. “The Maverick’s
perfect, code following padawan.” He hugged the other to his chest.

“Well one of us has to be obedient and I don’t see you doing what
the Council tells you anytime soon.” The boy teased and Qui-Gon
chuckled warmly, settling in the quiet warmth of their quarters with
Obi-Wan held tightly to him.

Can we have Qui-Gon cuddles Obi-Wan and pets his hair (basically spoil Obi rotten) after a very dangerous mission?

Posted on av swmoddy

“Obi-Wan, stop that, you don’t have to do that right now.”
Qui-Gon murmured quietly as the sixteen year old fussed over the
teapot.

“But I alwa-”

“No, no come here Obi-Wan. I don’t need tea right now and you’re
not allowed caffeinated tea by the healers for a week.” It was time
to be firm with his padawan. Obi-Wan instantly stopped with the pot,
limping over to his Master on the couch.

With a firm hand, Qui-Gon pulled the younger man down on the couch
and then pulled him against his chest. One muscled arm wrapped around
the narrow back and firmly pinned his padawan against Qui-Gon’s
chest, functioning like an iron bar.

“Master?” The other meeped.

“You are going to remain right there. You’re going to relax. I’m
going to hold you and you’re going to let your injuries rest.”
Qui-Gon offered severely before gentling his grip and shifting one of
Obi-Wan’s hands up with his free hand. “Look at you, every inch
of you is bruised and what is not bruised is covered in bandages.”
He offered quietly as he stared at the bandage covered fingers before
he let go, remembering how those hands had desperately scrambled to
cling to crumbling rocks, ripping and tearing Obi-Wan’s hands to
blood.

“I’m okay though…” Obi-Wan blinked before closing his eyes
when Qui-Gon started running his hand through his short hair, rubbing
his scalp with blunt fingertips.

“You’re okay now. You weren’t earlier. You’re only okay now
because of the healers.”

Week after week of dangerous missions, running them both ragged and
tiring them both out. Qui-Gon couldn’t help but be grateful for the
healers for firmly removing them of the active duty rooster,
especially since his padawan was black and blue where he wasn’t cut
up. “I want you to relax padawan mine. We’re not going anywhere
today or tomorrow except perhaps to the commissary.”

The copper head flopped onto his chest as Obi-Wan took his master’s
words to heart, his breathing easing up as he listened to the steady
thump of the others heart.

“How did you get so banged up padawan mine…really you need to
stop using yourself as bait.” Qui-Gon murmured as he steadily ran
his fingers through the soft short hair and teased down the back of
his head and onto his nape, rubbing slowly.

Obi-Wan shrugged a bit. “It seems to work though…”

“Self sacrifice is part of being a Jedi but not to this extent
Obi-Wan my dear padawan.” He pressed a kiss to the other mans
forehead, rubbing over his shoulders and upper back. “Sacrificing
your life is the last resort.”

Obi-Wan just hummed quietly, enjoying the slow and steady massage to
his sore and abused muscles.

“You’re not listening to me.” Qui-Gon chuckled, his chest
rumbling beneath the redhead’s ear.

“I always listen.” Obi-Wan yawned a bit, delighting in the sound
beneath his ear. “I’m your dutiful padawan after all.”

“My perfect padawan.” Qui-Gon offered fondly. “The Maverick’s
perfect, code following padawan.” He hugged the other to his chest.

“Well one of us has to be obedient and I don’t see you doing what
the Council tells you anytime soon.” The boy teased and Qui-Gon
chuckled warmly, settling in the quiet warmth of their quarters with
Obi-Wan held tightly to him.

Can you continue the one about Obi-Wan feeling reyected and Qui-Gon comforting him? Pretty please with a cherry on top??

Posted on av swmoddy

He
guided Obi-Wan to their quarters and washed the young man’s face with
a soft flannel from the fresher, keeping a careful grip on the others
shoulder at all time as he did. His padawan was quiet for all of it,
head slightly bent with his red swollen eyes though sometimes he
shifted in discomfort at Qui-Gon’s touch.

A
glass of water was carefully consumed and then Qui-Gon tucked him
into bed, sitting on his bedside while petting the others hair with
care until he was asleep, his breathing slow and even though his face
continued to have a strained look on it even asleep.

Only
then did he leave Obi-Wan’s side to com Mace and Plo. “I fucked
up.”

“Tell
me something we didn’t know.” Came Mace grumbled response.

“Qui-Gon
may we be of assistance?” At least Plo Koon was more diplomatic
then the Korun master.

“Please
I…I fucked up badly.” Qui-Gon sighed tiredly, settling heavily on
the couch.

“…Alright,
I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Ten
minutes my friend on my account, I was in the middle of something
when you called.”

Qui-Gon
hung up and rested his head in his hands, elbows on his knees while
taking deep breaths through his nose as he waited on the other two to
show up. He would have called Yoda but he was pretty sure the other
would break his gimer stick over Qui-Gon’s knees.

‘Then
again…Plo might just decide to drag me through the salle.’ Qui-Gon
thought misrebly. A frivolous application of the Force had the door
open once it rung and Mace stepped in.

The
man took one look at Qui-Gon’s slumped position and then went to the
kitchen, settling a pot to boil for tea while they waited for the
other councilor to arrive.

“Tea,
what kind?”

“Red
please.” Qui-Gon mumbled into his hands.

Mace
quietly took out the correct tea pot while stretching out his senses
into the quarters, finding the uneasy presence of a sleeping Obi-Wan
Kenobi in his room as the tea seeped.

The
Kel dor master arrived moments later to be let in by Mace, settling
down on the couch beside the human master. “Qui-Gon, what has
happened?” He asked as Mace set the teacup down on the coffee
table.

“You
mean other then me fucking up so badly that Obi-Wan thinks I’m
abandoning him for a newer model? That Obi-Wan had a panic attack in
one of the unused classrooms?” Qui-Gon laughed tonelessly.

“Ah.”

The
rather toneless response made him lift his head to look at Mace. “And
apparently he is not the only one to think so. Mace…”

“No,
it was clear you had not talked to your padawan about potentially
taking his trials in the council chambers, he may have agreed with
you in front of us but that was only to spare the judgment. All for a
child who is to old to be trained.”

“But
its needful, if left alone, Anakin could fall into wrong hands and
become a rouge Force user at the very least. He is powerful.”

“But
the cost would be your current padawan.” Mace argued against. “Who
you have already hurt.”

Qui-Gon
sighed and rubbed his face again.

“Perhaps
he should be trained.” Plo suddenly offered. “Qui-Gon is right
that Skywalker is a powerful child and the future is uncertain.
However the child is not the topic we should be arguing about right
now.” He sat up and peered at Qui-Gon. “We should be talking
about your current padawan.”

“True.”
Mace settled.

“I
don’t know what to do. In this state…I don’t know if we can head to
Naboo with the Queen again, not with Obi-Wan’s mental state as it
is.”

“It
is that bad?” Mace frowned.

“He
had a panic attack in a classroom where anyone could have found him
Mace.”

“Point
taken.”

“If
I may make a few suggestions…?”

They
both looked to Plo.

()()()()()

Obi-Wan
quietly settled down at the breakfast table, gingerly pulling his
plate towards him as he kept his head bent. With a clearer head he
couldn’t help but feel both embarrassed and ashamed of his actions
the last night.

His
master was quietly sitting on the other side of the table with his
own plate, watching Obi-Wan closely.

Summoning
his courage, Obi-Wan finally lifted his head. “Master, I wanted to
apo-”

“No.
No Obi-Wan, I’m the one who should apologize.” Qui-Gon murmured
softly. “We’ll talk about this, but first eat please. Breakfast is
important.” The older man urged quietly.

Obi-Wan
hesitated then quietly started to eat, though he honestly had no
appetite even though he managed to press down half the plate and all
his tea. He then sat in silence as he waited on the other to speak
up, to say anything.

“We
are not going to Naboo.” Obi-Wan’s head snapped to his master at
that, eyes wide. “Another team is to be dispatched should the Queen
request further help, which we know she most likely will. A knight
pair as I understand.” Qui-Gon was smiling gently at him.

Had
Obi-Wan messed up so much that they were being removed from the
mission!?

“And
Yoda broke his gimer stick over my knees when I told him. We are both
to see mindhealers for a few weeks and we are both moved to temple
duties for that duration.” Qui-Gon continued, absently rubbing his
knee for the soreness.

“I…is…”

“This
is my fault Obi-Wan, not yours.” Qui-Gon stood and moved around the
table and kneeling down, trying not to wince at the sensation of his
pained knees, in front of him, stroking them slowly. “I messed up
Obi-Wan, this is on my head and unfortunately you carry the brunt of
me doing so. The temple healers want to help us and Force willing,
perhaps you’ll trust me again one day.”

Obi-Wan
stared at the older man before swallowing and looking away. “…You
hurt me…a lot. I don’t know…I thought we were over things like
this. After everything that happened in the start of my
apprenticeship, I thought…” He could see Qui-Gon wince from the
corner of his eyes before the older man captured his chin to turn his
face back, tired green meeting sad blue.

“I
will not ask for forgiveness my padawan. I do not deserve it, but
perhaps one day we can rebuild what I broke. I ask you for that
chance.”

“And
Anakin?” Obi-Wan didn’t really want to ask but it kept cropping up
in the back of his mind.

“On
a trial period to be observed by the council. Plo Koon suggested it.
They may allow training but I am not to concern myself about his
future. I am to concern myself with this Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan
swallowed.

“If
I give you this chance…it will be the last one I extend master. I
can’t keep doing this to myself, I can’t let you continue doing this
to me.” He whispered.

“All
I ask for is the chance Obi-Wan. Thank you.”

Hi! Here’s a good one: Qui-Gon noticing that Obi-Wan felt rejected, tossed aside after saying that he will have Anakin, the Chosen One, as his new padawan and tries to talk to him about his feelings and remind him that he is not replaced in the old master’s heart.

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It wasn’t running
away when all he did was walk quickly with his hands in his sleeves,
leaving behind the boy with Qui-Gon as he murmured a half excuse.

It still wasn’t
running away when he drew his shields up as far as he could, blocking
of his own mind from the calming touch of his master.

Because at the
moment nothing was calm. Obi-Wan was in the eye of the storm of
emotions, his own, his stomach tying knots around itself as he headed
for the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

‘Capable.’ The word
echoed through his mind. Only days ago Qui-Gon had said Obi-Wan had
much to learn and now he was suddenly capable and ready to take his
trials, to be a knight on his own out in the galaxy.

To leave Qui-Gon’s
side.

‘I’m being
replaced.’ He froze, eyes widening as he swallowed heavily, bile
climbing to the back of his throat fast and hard. Obi-Wan barely
managed to slide into a abandoned classroom before his knees buckled
under him.

‘He’s going to
abandon me.’ His breath was coming in to short. ‘What if I fail the
trials?’ his sight was blurring, shoulders shaking as he wrapped his
arms tight around himself as he hunched over, desperately holding
onto the little he had eaten that day.

It was getting
harder to breath and Obi-Wan faintly caught on to the fact that he
was having a panic attack, the first one he had in years.

Hands were on his
shoulders, pulling him up and back, his back connecting against a
solid and hard chest, a large hand cupping his chin to tilt his head
up to ease his constricting airways with a strong arm around his
waist.

“Breath.”
There’s a firm, concerned voice in his ear, the chest behind him
taking slow and steady breaths and Obi-Wan can’t help but do as told,
a sharp, hiccuping breath filling his lungs with air.

“That’s it,
continue breathing Obi-Wan.” The voice continued, the arm around
his waist easing enough to rub his chest steadily. “I’m right here,
I have you.” The voice continued as Obi-Wan struggled, sharp,
stinging breaths being pulled deep down into his lungs as he tried to
match the breathing of the other person until he was breathing.

The hand on his
chin hesitated before lowering to carefully turn the redhead until he
was sitting sideways in the others lap. Obi-Wan clenched his eyes
shut, already fully aware that it was his master, the aura unable to
be anyone but the older man.

A careful hand
touched his face and Obi-Wan flinched, feeling bewildered shock
lacing the air around them as Qui-Gon digested the situation and
actions.

“Padawan, what
happened?” The master Jedi asked quietly, brushing tears of flushed
cheeks.

“You’re going to
give me up. What did I do wrong?” Obi-Wan wanted to shout, to
demand but he had no energy and it came out listless and broken as
fresh tears pressed themselves out from under his clenched eyelids.

“No, no, no
Obi-Wan, no you haven’t done anything wrong.” Large hands cupped
his cheeks. “You have done nothing wrong Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan clenched
his hands into the others tunic, shaking hard. “Only weeks ago I
had much to learn…today I’m…I’m capable?” He hiccuped.
“I…I’ve been a good padawan. I’ve…I’ve listened and learned and
invented and fought…I…” He coughed and wanted to hide away.

“Obi-Wan, open
your eyes little one, look at me.” Gentle thumbs were wiping under
his eyes and the younger man slowly opened his eyes to give the man a
utterly miserable look, face splotchy and eyes swollen.

Qui-Gon returned it
with his own heartbroken look. “Oh Obi-Wan I never meant to hurt
you. But we can’t just let Anakin leave, where would he go? And if he
went rouge…”

Obi-Wan swallowed
dejectedly and tried to tug away only for the other to pull him back.
“But I spoke in haste, in panic and I never meant to make you feel
I was leaving you behind.” Qui-Gon sighed. “What a master I
am…” He gave Obi-Wan tiny smile. “Drive one to Falling and the
other into panic attacks and self-doubt. Obi-Wan, you are my padawan,
I will not abandon you regardless of what.”

Obi-Wan just stared
back at him in mute misery.

Qui-Gon suddenly
realized just how deeply he had hurt the other. “Force…I really
broke your trust in me did I?” He whispered then winced when the
redhead didn’t even give a token protest. “Oh Force above, I’ll fix
this Obi-Wan, I swear I will.”

He tucked the
others head under his chin, holding tightly onto his padawan,
reaching out to gently tap at the shields the other had pulled up,
gratified when they ever so slightly lowered. “I’ll fix this.”

Padawan Obiwan kidnapped and Quigon rescues him? Hurt/comfort?

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They are slavers.

Obi-Wan can tell
that by the way they are talking about him. Where to get the most
from him, its not the talk of fresh slavers either, they are
experienced who have captured people before and sold them to the
highest bidders. This was the slaving ring they had been enlisted to
find and help break up.

And they were
taking him away in a shuttle, away from back-up and his master.

It was good they
didn’t know he was a Jedi. He was suppose to just play bait, dressed
up carefully to look not to well of yet look healthy at the same
time. His normal slightly worn boots, black leggings and a high
collared green turtlenecked sweater, with hair formula his hair had
been grown out to match the length of his padawan braid and now
reached his shoulders, brushing softly in deep copper waves.

Playing bait was
not something he had wanted to do but his master had promised him
that he’d come and fetch him before they slavers got to far with him,
all they needed was the information to break up the slaver ring.

“He’s a bit young
but he is pretty, I know several brothels that would take him.”
One of them speaks up louder then the rest. “Would pay well too if
he’s a proper redhead.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach
drops and he reaches out sharply through the Force to his master,
sending Qui-Gon his agitation and slight worry as he shifts and
presses back against the wall behind him.

“If he’s a proper
one you say?” One of them leered at Obi-Wan and the redhead gritted
his teeth together. “Carpet and drapes you mean?”

Obi-Wan didn’t have
to feign the nervous look on his face as the large man came over to
him, leering down at Obi-Wan as the padawan clenched his nails into
his own hands, staring up at him. The man smirks at him and then
pulls him to his feet by his hair, the young man hissing at the pain
as the slaver draws a knife from his belt.

The Force coils in
him in his desire to use it to escape but he doesn’t have enough
information, doesn’t know where they are going or which one is the
leader even, so far none of them has stood out more then the others.

His anxiety must be
bubbling because suddenly his master is reaching out, Qui-Gon’s
gentle and worried aura touching against him. -Padawan, what’s
wrong, what’s happening?- The concern was bubbling, Qui-Gon
hadn’t wanted to have Obi-Wan play bait but there was no other
choice.

-They are
talking about where to sell me master. Its a bit disquieting to hear
myself talked about as if I’m a piece of fruit.- Or meat Obi-Wan
thought darkly as he glared at the slaver, eyes tearing up from grip
on his hair.

“Don’t damage
him, damaged merchandise sell for less if we’re going with the
brothel.” The one who suggested it called out.

-Its alright Obi-Wan, I’m on my way,
it wont be long as the shuttle seems to be slowing down.-

The man just
chuckled and set the knife to Obi-Wan’s turtleneck, slowly cutting
away the fabric.

Real panic gripped
Obi-Wan at that as the knife steadily cut away at his clothes,
leaving his pale skin to pimple in the cold air. -How long
master?-

His legs were
trembling. He was utterly bared and struggling to keep calm as the
man put away the knife, his eyes glittering in keen interest as it
flickered over Obi-Wan’s pale, freckled skin. “L-Let me be.” He
whispered only for the man to laugh and grasp him by the hip, his
laugh turning into a leer.

-Not long…Obi-Wan, what’s going
on? Padawan, tell me.-

“Well well,
carpet and drapes DO match boys.” He said to hoots and catcalls
before firmly grasping Obi-Wan and groping his ass, his grip harsh
and sure to leave behind bruises.

Obi-Wan’s resolve
snapped, he brought the Force and threw the man away from him.
-Master!-

“Kriff, a trained
Force user!” A man drew a blaster, aiming it at Obi-Wan with a wide
grin. “Do ya have any idea how  much they go for!? Only way this
could be better was if he was a Jedi.”

“Shut up, we need
to restrai-”

The shuttle window
smashed open and Obi-Wan hissed as the shards cut into exposed skin.
But then there was the blessed sound of a lightsaber humming in the
air and Obi-Wan could have wept for the relief.

He kept to the back
of the shuttle, letting Qui-Gon both disarm and stop the shuttle for
the security force to arrive, shaking ever so slightly as his master
turned to him. Words died on the older mans lips as he took in the
state of his padawan, stripping his robe from himself and wrapping it
tightly around the teen, face tight and pale.

“…Are you
alright Obi-Wan?” He whispered.

“No…but I don’t
want to talk about it here.” Obi-Wan whispered, pushing his face
into the older mans chest. “Can you please get the cuffs of me?”

Qui-Gon nodded and
with a quick application of the Force, had them undone, letting the
fifteen year old tug the hood up to hide in. Qui-Gon nodded to the
captain of the security force and kept his arm around his padawan,
pulsing steadily through the bond with his love, concern and
affection.

-When we get to the hotel, you are
not leaving my sight.-

-I have no complaints to that
master.-

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(First of I am SO sorry. I accidently responded to the wrong ask earlier and had to delete it. I blame the fact that my contact lenses weren’t in place. But the ask was Qui-Gon taking care of Obi-Wan’s nightmare. So here!)

There’s something
in the Force.

It makes Qui-Gon
sit up and take notice even in the calmness of the temples night, the
feeling in the Force leaving him disquiet.

He couldn’t even
recognize what it was until there was a whimper coming from a
slightly ajar door.

His padawan’s room.

“Obi-Wan?”
Qui-Gon stood quickly.

There’s no response
and it makes him hurry to the room and peer in, seeing the lad curled
up into fetal position on his bed, his covers kicked off him at some
point. Qui-Gon made a absent notice that the others pajamas are
getting a bit short and there’s a glowing pit in his stomach that
realizes that his padawan has outgrown them and needs to request the
quartermaster for new ones before a soft whimper breaks through the
air again.

“Obi-Wan?” He
stepped into his padawan’ss sanctum, a place he usually did not
disturb unless given permission since he wanted his padawan to feel
safe in his own space.

But the whimper
drew him to his padawans side, reaching out through their bond to
feel the other caught in a nightmare. Qui-Gon settled down on the
bedside and pulled the other closer, whispering quietly as he slowly
leaked his presence through the Force, to sooth and comfort without
waking.

As someone aligned
to the Unifying Force, Obi-Wan’s sleep was often disturbed by
visions. It wasn’t something they could stop. And Qui-Gon appreciated
every moment the other had of undisturbed sleep.

“Its alright
Obi-Wan, I’m right here.” He murmured out loud, caressing the
others hair with care, fingers caressing the decorated braid with
gentle fingers. “I’m right here for you.”

Prompt, parental QuiGon with ObiWan?

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He ignored Plo Koon as he made his way to the ships bunks, carefully settling his padawan down while talking softly to him, filling the silence that had enveloped everyone on the ship.

A failed mission, a planet thrown into civil war but worse of all, a injured padawan.

‘But not dead.’ Qui-Gon reminded himself as he carefully took Obi-Wan’s raw scrubbed wrists, pulling over the medical kit Plo had slid closer to him. ‘Not dead like I thought.’ He had spent twenty four hours thinking his padawan was dead instead of blocked from the Force. Twenty four hours of feeling lost and alone while trying to get back to their transport with his fellow Jedi. He glanced up, catching Obi-Wan’s unswollen eye, watching the green eye focus on him. “I’m going to treat what I can Obi-Wan, give you a painkiller and then I’m going to send you of to sleep. Is that alright?” He murmured quietly.

The copper haired teen sniffled but nodded, watching his master tenderly applying bacta salve to his red wrists and then bandaging them. He then moved on to raw ankles to repeat the treatment before checking on Obi-Wan’s swollen left eye. “A cold pack might be better for this Obi-Wan, the healers back at the temple can heal it fully once we get there. Or do you want me to just give you the painkiller and let you sleep until we’re home?”

Licking dry lips, Obi-Wan considered it. “Painkiller please master.” He croaked out, almost smiling at the wince Qui-Gon couldn’t hold back.

“Painkillers and water. Then sleep.” The master said firmly, pulling a bottle out of the kit and taking two capsules from it, murmuring gratefully when Plo held out a cup of water for Obi-Wan. They both watched Obi-Wan struggle to swallow until the padawan had both the pills and the water down.

Qui-Gon helped Obi-Wan lay down and then crawled in with him, tucking his robe around the small shape that curled against him, his padawan using his masters larger bulk to hide subconsciously as Qui-Gon wrapped a arm around him.

Qui-Gon let his fingers rest in the copper hair and stroked the others scalp gently. “Sleep Obi-Wan. You’re safe.” He murmured, gently letting the Force suggestion take hold. He knew the other would wake in not to long, but by then the painkillers would be working and Obi-Wan would be hopefully able to eat something and drink more water.

“…Padawan’s, its amazing how they crawl into our hearts.” Plo murmured from his own bunk.

“I don’t think I’d have it any other way.” Qui-Gon murmured back as Obi-Wan’s soft breathing puffed against his chest.