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Entry tags:

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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"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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