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harley,
klaus

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While a part of Obi-Wan appreciates there is no longer any war in which he's expected to fight, no expectation of being a general, no fighting against battle droids day in and day out while trying to wrangle both Anakin and Ahsoka, all while beating back Ventress, Maul, or whichever enemy had decided they wanted Obi-Wan's head on that particular day, he still isn't quite used to relaxation.

It feels indulgent. The Jedi have never exactly been known for their indulgence, which Obi-Wan knows Rael Averross would have said was one of their primary failures, and while he hadn't always agreed with Rael, he had respected the man. No matter where he finds himself, he doesn't imagine he'll ever turn into the Jedi Rael was during his days on Pijal -- using recreational drugs, going to bed with whoever was within a five foot radius -- but he thinks he can take at least some inspiration from him.

And that is why, this evening, Obi-Wan is sitting on his sofa, a steaming cup of tea waiting for him on the coffee table, a book of poetry in one hand, and Klaus's feet propped up in his lap. He has one hand curled over one foot, the pads of his fingers working onto the arch of Klaus's foot, massaging without really thinking about it. His focus is on the poetry instead, fascinated by the cadence of the words. So unlike poetry he had read on Coruscant, instead much wittier, much more real, and absolutely engrossing.

Music plays softly, something Klaus had picked, and Obi-Wan knows this is not the sort of night Rael would have considered at all entertaining, but he's quite content in this moment.

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It took awhile for Klaus to get used to domesticity, and the word still kind of makes him want to squirm. Back in the beginning, if they were inside the apartment they were usually fucking, or lounging in the quiet space between the first time they fucked and then the next, or the next after that.

As Klaus got to know Obi-Wan better, he wanted to be around him more. Not just for sex, but to stand there uselessly holding a spatula to pretend he's helping while Obi-Wan makes dinner, or watch him brush his teeth, or fold his laundry. There are nights where Klaus comes over and they don't leave the apartment at all, and they don't jump right into sex. Yeah, it'll still happen and Klaus is very much looking forward to it, but it's not his primary reason for coming over. Not anymore.

Right now they're laying on the sofa, Obi-Wan with his tea and Klaus with his wine, and Klaus has his feet in Obi-Wan's lap as they both read their own books. It's comfortable in a way that Klaus is still getting used to. They can just exist together like this.

His own book is boring, so he lets it fall to the floor and sits up to see what Obi-Wan is reading instead. He's pleased to recognize it, and he plucks the book from Obi-Wan's hand with a grin.

"You're reading Maya Angelou? She's big where I'm from." Klaus went through a moody emo phase a little harder than most teenagers, given his connection to death, and he read lots of poetry. He scrawled his favorite lines on the walls of his bedroom, and would repeat them in his head when the silence got to be too much. After checking the table of contents, he flips towards the back of the book and holds it open with one hand so he can gesture with the other.

"The free bird thinks of another breeze, and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees, and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn, and he names the sky his own," Klaus recites, because of course he loves this poem. "But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams, his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream, his wings are clipped and his feet are tied, so he opens his throat to sing."

Klaus swallows hard and smiles a little, reaching out to rest his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "The caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of things unknown but longed for still, and his tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom."

Once he's done, he lowers the book into his lap and smiles over at Obi-Wan, sliding his fingers up along the base of his skull, laughing a little to himself. "I always did love that one. Can't imagine why."

The interruption is not entirely unexpected, not when Obi-Wan can sense Klaus growing bored with his book without even having to use the Force. It's evident in the way his foot bounces slightly or the long sigh he lets out, the way he plays with his hair and looks around the room. When he finally sits up and snatches Obi-Wan's book from his hand, he's already prepared for it to happen.

He reaches for his tea and settles into the sofa, certain he's about to be treated to a rather rousing reading of something, and he smiles softly as he listens. The tea is warm and earthy, and although Obi-Wan is a man who has few peaceful moments in his life, this brings him back to a memory of camping somewhere with Cody and the rest of the 212th. At the moment he can't remember what planet it was, only that it had been warm and dry, and Gregor had begun to recite some story he'd heard as a young clone, his voice rich and smooth. Though their accents differ and Obi-Wan had never once been interested in Gregor the way he is with Klaus, it still brings Obi-Wan to a similar place.

"That was lovely," he says, leaning into Klaus's touch as he laughs at his comment about why he might like the poem. "Did you read a lot of poetry when you were younger? I've read plenty, but I'm not sure how much of it I would be able to find here. A whole new world has been opened up in that regard."

"Oh, yeah. Tons of it," Klaus replies. He certainly doesn't think of himself as an academic or anything, but he's always found poetry very interesting. Some of it contains so much suffering, so much darkness, but also light and hope. There were poems he clung to when he was younger, when his hands shook with fear and he couldn't sleep. "If you can imagine, I was even more of a mess when I was young. At the time, poetry and music seemed like the angstiest forms of expression."

His expression clouds over a bit as he remembers scrawling words into walls, teeth gritted against all the noise in his head. His teenage years were an awful, awful time for him. Trapped inside the Academy, and trapped inside of his own head. An addiction that grew stronger every day, one brother gone and then another. Sometimes he felt like he had been going mad.

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted," he says, reciting a few lines of an Emily Dickinson poem that always stuck with him. "One need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material space."

Klaus blinks a few times and shakes his head a little, and then smiles softly over at Obi-Wan. "Take me with you to the library next time, and we'll find some good collections."

"You have that one memorized," Obi-Wan comments, watching Klaus's expression for a moment before he drops his hand to Klaus's thigh, squeezing lightly. The poem is a darker one, a heavier subject matter, and he understands Klaus's attraction to it as well. The words may be darker, but they're beautiful, too, in an entirely different manner.

"I have to run some books back tomorrow if you want to come with me," he says with a brighter smile before he takes a sip of his tea. "I finished the book on the history of Darrow last night and the one on myths and legends of the city the night before."

He would like to read more of the history of the world Klaus comes from and having Klaus there to guide him on what volumes might be better than others. It will be nice, he thinks, to have his opinion not only on the poetry but on the other subjects Obi-Wan is interested in.

"Yeah, there are some passages that have stuck with me." A lot of people might be surprised by how much Klaus likes to read. Sure, he gets bored easily if the subject is boring, but if he finds something that interests him, if it's enough to distract him, it will pull him in entirely. "And then you have your classics, you know. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary-- wait, you don't know."

Klaus looks at him excitedly and puts his hand over the one Obi-Wan has on his thigh. "You've never heard of Edgar Allan Poe. Yes, we will go to the library tomorrow."

He gives Obi-Wan a quick kiss before leaning forward to scoop up his wine glass, shifting into Obi-Wan's lap and curling an arm around his shoulders. Sipping from his glass, he leans back against the arm of the sofa and splays his legs out along it, lounging like a spoiled cat.

"But what are we going to do tonight, is the question," Klaus ponders aloud, though he thinks that he would be okay staying just like this.

"Well, I do have another volume of poetry I've only gotten halfway through," Obi-Wan says thoughtfully, a small, teasing smile curving his lips. He sips his tea, then looks at Klaus. "It's called The Future. I think it's much more modern than the ones I've read thus far, it seems to be written by a man who may have been from a world similar to your own."

Klaus likely isn't hinting that that ought to do more reading and Obi-Wan doubts very much that's how the night will end, but he can't help but take the opportunity to tease him. He can so rarely pass those opportunities by with anyone, but especially those he's grown to care for.

Anakin knows that better than most, given how often his behaviour is met with a dry comment from Obi-Wan.

"It's right there," he says, then uses his cup of tea to point at the book on the coffee table. His other hand has shifted from Klaus's leg to his waist, just under his shirt. "If you'd like to get it."

Crap.

I'd lost my shoe— The left, of a pair of rainbow platform tennis shoes, with lights in the heels. Not my favorite shoes, but at least in the top five. There was a hole in the heel of my sock, and oh yeah, I was pretty sure some two-bit gangster asshole was trying to kill me.

Again.

Hobbling down the hall to Obi-Wan's apartment, the address of which I'd gotten through only slightly illegal means, I knocked impatiently on the door, shifting my weight from one socked foot, to one platform sole.

"Oh, I'd definitely like to get it," Klaus says with a laugh, reaching for Obi-Wan's face as he sits up for a kiss, but there's a knock at the door just before their lips meet. He pulls back with a furrowed brow and twists to look over at it. "I'll get it."

They didn't order anything, and Klaus's only guess as to who might drop by late in the evening is Anakin. As he rolls off of Obi's lap to go answer the door, he hopes that isn't an emergency. If it's something serious, Klaus will have to leave and it's so damn cold outside. But it isn't Anakin on the other side. It's someone entirely unexpected.

"Harley! Rough night?" He's happy to see her, as always, but he didn't even know that she knew where Obi-Wan lived. That makes him look over his shoulder to give Obi-Wan a curious look, raising one eyebrow before turning back to Harley. "Get in here."

Mere moments before the knock comes, Obi-Wan senses her, the frenetic shift in the Force, the perception of doubling he sometimes feels when he's in her presence. He hadn't realized she knew where he lived and as Klaus goes to the door, he sits up straighter in concern.

If she's taken the time to find out, there must be a reason.

"Harley," he echoes, briefly shaking his head at Klaus to indicate he hadn't been expecting her. "Come inside, come inside. Take off your... shoe."

She's only wearing one. He'd only meant for her to make herself comfortable, but now he thinks there's even more reason to take it off.

"No, I don't know. Maybe." I shrugged, toeing off my remaining shoe and trudging over to flop dramatically on his couch.

Drawing my foot into my lap to give it a look, I yanked off my sock, grimacing at the blister on my heel. Yeesh.

"Turns out, second-rate arms dealers get real touchy when you insult their manhood."

"Ugh, tell me about it," Klaus replies as he swings the door shut and locks it, because the general state of her along with that comment makes him think that she didn't just come here solely because she was bored. He walks around the back of the couch, reaching out to ruffle Obi-Wan's hair and tug playfully at one of Harley's pigtails before coming around to sit on the other side of her.

"What kind of direction is the night gonna take? Are we going to have to kick some ass?" Klaus asks, sounding as if he wouldn't be too terribly upset if that were the case. "Or should I make us some margaritas?"

At Harley's comment, Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, seeming to decide against it. Truthfully, he isn't sure what to say. If someone is coming to hunt Harley down, he's not sure he actually minds.

Not that he wants anyone coming after Harley or for her or Klaus's safety to be threatened, but there are times when Obi-Wan misses the amount of action he used to see, even if he doesn't miss the idea of war.

"Do you need something for your foot?" he asks. "A bandage? I have some in the bathroom I can get while Klaus makes drinks. Or should I be getting my lightsaber?"

"Ooo, margaritas," I said, momentarily distracted from the blister on my heel. "Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't have come here if I'd thought I still had a tail. I just couldn't go back to my apartment."

Turning my attention back to my foot, I said, "If you boys wanna go kick some ass, we can all go together tomorrow, but right now, I'm thinking cocktails."

Obi-Wan asked me a question, and I know it's pathetic, but I couldn't even wrap my head around why, at first. Then, it dawned on me.

He was worried. He cared. Enough to wanna bandage a silly little blister. It was wild.

"I don't suppose you got any with little kittens on 'em, huh?"

"I am not against kicking ass," Klaus says conversationally, because while he knows that Harley can take care of herself, he doesn't like the idea of anyone coming after her. He's not a big fan of violence in general, but he also isn't one to shy away away from a fight if it's necessary. "But yes, cocktails. I knew buying that margarita mix would come in handy!"

Harley looks a little stunned for a moment, and Klaus thinks he understands. Having the full force of Obi-Wan Kenobi's care turned on you when you're unused to care at all can be a very stunning thing indeed.

"Obi-Wan is a very good, very sexy nurse. He'll take care of you," Klaus assures her as he stands, turning to face her and cupping her face in his hands to kiss her forehead. After shifting over and doing the same to Obi-Wan, he flits into the kitchen to pull out everything he needs to make margaritas. He had added the ingredients to Obi-Wan's shopping cart on a whim, and now he's very glad for it.

Edited 2021-02-07 23:25 (UTC)

Obi-Wan shakes his head with a fond, amused smile, not even entirely sure which one of them it's for. He rises from the couch, putting his hand on Harley's shoulder to give a brief squeeze and says, "I'll be right back."

Bandages with kittens on them is likely beyond the supplies he keeps in a first aid kit under the kitchen sink, but in the bathroom there is a variety box of bandages and he sorts through them until he finds the ones he had assumed he would never use in all kinds of aggressively bright colours.

"No kittens," he says when he returns, then sits on the couch beside Harley and gestures for her to put her foot in his lap. "But I did find one in a violently neon yellow you might like."

Klaus is still in the kitchen and Obi-Wan can hear him from here, glasses clinking, ice shaking, liquids being poured. Even after all these months, he's never entirely certain to do with the swell of affection he feels whenever Klaus treats this place like his own home.

Dazedly, I slumped back onto the couch, listening to the two of them move around the apartment. Even I knew that I was intruding on what was probably a real gushy, romantic evening, but they made room for me anyway. Like I belonged.

I sighed a bit dreamily, wishing I had Bruce there to tell me what to do next.

"Perfect!" I crowed, leaning over to press a red-smeared kiss onto his cheek and quickly shifting over to set my foot on his lap. Grinning, all teeth, I wiggled my toes and asked, loud enough for Klaus to hear, "Are we playing doctor?"

Given the layout of Obi-Wan's apartment, Klaus is able to look over into the living area as he prepares their drinks. He even goes so far as to take out the blender, dumping all the ingredients for a splendid strawberry margarita into it and watching Obi-Wan and Harley as the machine runs, grinning as she kisses his cheek.

He likes that she came over, and he likes it even more that she apparently feels safe here. Klaus knows how important it is to have a safe space, especially when you're as mixed up as he and Harley can be. The blender finishes just in time for Klaus to hear Harley's question, and he laughs as he lines up three pint glasses, since Obi-Wan (understandably) does not have margarita glasses on hand. That's okay. Klaus can fix that some other time.

"If we are, I got next," he calls out, smirking as he twists the rims of the glasses on a plate of salt and divides the drinks between all three. "Or better yet, let me scrub in, doc."

Klaus winks at Harley as he comes back over, carrying all three glasses carefully in his hands and setting them down on the table before picking one up and handing it to Harley. He places Obi-Wan's near him so he can grab it when he's done, and then picks up his own so he can sit back on Harley's other side and offer her his cheek, pointing at it with his free hand. "Lay one on me so me and Obi can match."

As ever, Obi-Wan can sense a sort of doubling within Harley, not quite like someone else exists inside of her, but as if there are other parts of her that perhaps don't come to the surface as often. It's unlike anything he's felt from anyone else, except perhaps Ventress, who had her own complicated history.

But for now, his concern is her foot, and he can feel her lipstick on his cheek once she's kissed him, though it only makes him chuckle warmly. He puts the bandage carefully over the blister, then gives it a gentle pat before he says, "Good as new."

With an arched eyebrow at Klaus and a warm grin, he adds, "I'm going to assume play doctor means something dirty where you two are from."

"Dirty? Obi, you old prude," I cackled, sloshing margarita onto my shirt as I twisted around to lay a smacking kiss on Klaus's cheek.

Taking a sip from my drink, I wiggled my toes happily, one foot still propped on Obi-Wan's knee. "You're a man of many talents, Mistah Hargreeves."

"Oh, he is so not a prude." Klaus preens at the kiss and then leans back, lifting his arm along the back of the sofa so Harley can rest back against his side. She calls him Obi, and Klaus likes hearing that from someone else, the casual fondness of it.

"Why, thank you, Miss Quinn," he replies, curling his arm around her shoulders to pull her back enough for him to press a quick kiss to the crown of her head. As he takes a long sip of his drink, he lifts his arm again and reaches out to touch Obi-Wan's shoulder. "What do you say, doc? Is she gonna live?"

"Oh, I do believe she'll survive," he answers, resting his hand atop Harley's ankle, his palm warm on her skin. He shifts on the sofa and reaches for his drink, raising it to his mouth to take a sip, then settles back.

This certainly isn't how he imagined the night might go, but what he's coming to enjoy so utterly in Darrow is that he can't predict anything. The galaxy had been a chaotic, unpredictable place, and Darrow is no different in that regard.

"What do you think?" he asks Harley. "Will you make it?"

"Is that itty-bitty blister gonna be the death of little old me?" I asked, giving him a big, thoughtful frown. "Nope. But there's a whole big world out there, so it's anybody's guess."

Leaning back against Klaus's side, I snuggled in close, taking a sip from my drink.

"So, what kinda big night have I butt my nose into?"

When Harley leans back against him, Klaus lifts an arm to curl it loosely around the front of her, letting his forearm rest along her collar bones and curving his hand around her bicep. She's wearing a kind of low cut top and Klaus can't help the way that his gaze drifts across her chest and the shadowy valley between her breasts. He can't help but to appreciate fine art, okay?

He lifts his chin and takes a long sip from his glass, looking over at Obi-Wan at the question. They were having a perfectly lovely evening, but Harley didn't ruin anything by showing up. They're both glad for her company, he's sure. There will be other nights where he and Obi-Wan can sit around and quote poetry at each other. Lots of them, if Klaus has anything to say about it.

"We were being huge nerds, actually," Klaus says, pulling her closer and leaning down to stage whisper it near her ear, winking at Obi-Wan as he does. "It's a good thing you showed up to liven up the party."

"Klaus was reciting poetry," Obi-Wan answers, watching Klaus and Harley with a faint smile, noting the way Klaus's gaze drifts down briefly and his smile widens for a moment. There are certainly those who would feel jealousy, he knows, at catching such a moment, but Obi-Wan and Klaus understand each other better than that, and while there is commitment between them, the possessiveness that would exist at the foundation of jealousy isn't there.

"And I was thinking how one particular Jedi I knew when I was a Padawan would have rolled his eyes at me," he continues, smiling at Harley. "Thinking that reading and listening to music was an entertaining evening, so at least I can pretend Rael Averross would be a little proud of me for having a proper drink tonight and patching up a lovely young woman."

"Sounds like my kinda guy," I said, knowing that likely meant he was a real asshole. Even I could admit that I wasn't known for my taste in men.

"Come on, I wanna hear some of it," I said, lifting a hand blindly and giving Klaus's face a clumsy nudge without looking away from Obi-Wan's smiling face. "I need a good laugh."

"Hm, let's see," Klaus says, laughing and turning his head to bite softly at the side of Harley's palm. "There once was a man from Nantucket, with a dick so long he could suck it. You've heard this one, right?"

He laughs and presses a kiss to the side of her head before taking another long sip from his drink. As much as he likes Harley, it was hard enough to recite any serious poetry in front of Obi-Wan. "Something about fucking his own ear?"

After another sip, he leans over to set his glass on the coffee table. "Averross. That wasn't the hot one with the tentacles, was it?"

As Klaus speaks, Obi-Wan closes his eyes briefly, amused, then shakes his head as he opens his eyes again and looks over at the two of them.

"No," he says. "Averross was very human. The Nautolan you're thinking of was Master Kit Fisto, a dear friend of mine." He looks to Harley and says, "And yes, the Nautolans grew long tendrils from their heads. They helped them sense the chemical makeup of pheromones and could deduce someone's emotional state based on that. A dangerous ability when paired with the wrong sort of person."

And yet it had made Kit a wonderful friend and a brilliant Jedi.

"Oh, shut up," I said, giving Klaus a half-hearted shove. "I'll bet it was real romantic. You don't gotta pretend with me."

Wiggling against him, I took another sip of my drink, careful not to slosh.

"Tentacles, huh? I saw a porno like that once."

Klaus can't help but to grin at Obi-Wan's utter sincerity, which he maintains even when faced with the two of them, who lack sincerity most of the time. He's just so helplessly fond of him.

"Or a very horny ability, when paired with Obi-Wan," Klaus says in an exaggerated whisper against the side of Harley's head. She wriggles against him and Klaus laughs as he tickles at her side while holding his drink up out of the way. "You tickle Obi. I can't reach."

"It was," Obi-Wan assures Harley with a grin, even though he knows Klaus won't likely be reciting any such poetry again tonight. It hadn't been easy for him, he knows, to be vulnerable and Obi-Wan understands why.

"Why is anyone being tickled?" he protests with the sincerity of a man who has been known for his stoicism in battle and is, unfortunately, terribly ticklish. He manages not to smile, though it's a close thing, his amusement hidden not very discretely behind his moustache. "That's a well known torture tactic during war."

"Uh-oh," I said, leaning in towards Klaus and matching his conspiring, stage whisper. "I think we found a weakness. Did you know about this?"

Grinning, I wiggled my fingers in Obi-Wan's direction.

"Question is, is it worth spilling my drink over?"

"I had a suspicion, but it's nice to have it confirmed," Klaus says delightedly, because this is one weakness that he will happily expose. When Harley mentions her drink, Klaus reaches out to lift the glass from her hand. "I'll take that. Attack, Harley!"

Klaus takes a long gulp from his glass before setting them both down on the coffee table and using his foot to push it back a bit, so it's out of the way. Once the alcohol is safe, Klaus hops up onto his knees on the sofa and bounces a bit, clapping his hands together. "Get him!"

"I still have my drink!" Obi-Wan protests, holding it over his head, as if that might somehow prevent it from spilling. He's laughing, though, feeling a little like he might have during a night out with Kit and Shaak Ti when they were still Padawans, although it was usually poor Shaak trying to wrangle Obi-Wan and Kit as they caused trouble.

There are days when he knows his younger self wouldn't recognize the man he's become, but Klaus and Harley both manage to bring that part of him back to the forefront.

"But if you must..." he says, then sets his drink down and raises an eyebrow, playfully challenging.

"Oops," I said, reaching out to pluck the glass from Obi-Wan's hand and draining it in a few long gulps.

Blindly waving the empty glass in Klaus's direction, I grinned as I threw a leg over Obi-Wan's thighs and sat myself astride his lap.

"Let's see how this puppy works," I said, reaching out and prodding a finger just beneath his ribs.

Klaus takes the empty glass with a happy laugh, twisting to put it on the table with the others. When he turns back, Harley is straddling Obi-Wan's lap and Klaus raises his brows in interest, rocking up to sit back on his haunches and watch.

"I think it's more right here," he says as he shifts forward, resting his knees against Obi-Wan's thigh as he drags his shirt up to tickle at the slight dip of his waist. His other hand rests low on Harley's back and he can't help but to laugh again, because he's having so much fun.

Obi-Wan twitches when Harley's finger pokes beneath his ribs, but he manages to stifle his laughter right up until the moment Klaus gets under his shirt and into his waist. Then the sound that slips out of him is very undignified, especially for a Jedi Master, something between a giggle and a snort as he tries to twist away from the prodding fingers and finds it impossible.

With one hand on Harley's leg, he uses the other to try and bat away her hand, then Klaus's, unsure who's going to attack next.

Never before in his life has he ever been in a situation like this. That makes him laugh as much as anything.

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