The Rapunzel Syndrome
By Keelywolfe
Rating: PG
Feedback: Sure

Disclaimer: I don't own the following characters and I promise to put 
them back in nearly the same condition that I found them in. Nearly.

Archive: Master and Apprentices, sure. Anyone else, just ask, I'm 
pretty flexible

Authors note: I actually considered making this NC-17, but well, I'm 
already writing another one, this is just a little interlude. 

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Tel'har was a beautiful planet, lush vegetation, temperate climate. 
What many species might consider their version of heaven. And Obi-Wan 
Kenobi decided he had seen enough of it in three days to last him the 
rest of eternity. For one, any comparison to paradise would fade when 
the torrential nightly rains came. And secondly, those same rains 
caused huge mud pits in the jungles. Particularly sticky, clinging mud 
pits that Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon managed to discover on their own. 

Obi-Wan had already cleaned his body and now he was working on his 
lightsaber. It was well made and designed to work in the harshest of 
environments, but there were limits.   

He paused when his master walked into the room, fresh from the shower. 
He nodded at his apprentice before settling in front of the room 
monitor to read the daily reports. He watched Qui-Gon start combing the 
mass of tangles from his hair. The mud had been especially viscous and 
difficult to wash out and several vigorous scrubbings had no doubt been 
necessary. The older man was fairly jerking the comb through his hair 
and Obi-Wan winced in sympathetic pain. Surely he didn't need to be so 
rough. But he was distracted with his reading and it was harder to 
remove tangles that you couldn't see. An idea formed in the back of 
Obi-Wan's mind. Did he dare?

Watching his master struggle with a particular stubborn snarl decided 
it for him.  He walked over and, somewhat hesitantly, confiscated the 
comb. Qui-Gon glanced up questioningly for a moment, but then resumed 
his reading without comment. Permission granted, Obi-Wan carefully 
worked out the knot, starting from the ends and working his way up. The 
heavy mass was still damp and felt cool and soft against his fingers. 
From the time he'd been apprenticed to Qui-Gon he'd always secretly 
admire his hair. Even as a child he'd been forced to wear his own hair 
short and now as a Padawan he was allowed only a short pigtail and a 
braid. And so the long strands of his master's hair fascinated him. 

Not that Qui-Gon was particularly vain about it. He wore it simply, 
tied back and away from his face so as not to obscure his vision. He'd 
probably only let it grow because as a master he could. The older man 
flinched slightly as the comb caught at yet another tangle and Obi-Wan 
massaged the spot with his free hand, soothing away the pain he had 
inadvertently caused. 

The thick length lightened as it dried, turning a rich bronze streaked 
lightly with gray, betraying his master's age. The tangles were gone 
now, but Obi-Wan continued, running the comb downward and smoothing it 
with his other hand. Qui-Gon had long since abandoned his reading and 
instead was resting his head on his hands, eyes closed as he relaxed 
into the pleasant sensation. 

The long strands were silky against his fingers, clinging to him 
statically. He ran his hand down its length again, to feel the texture 
of it against his palm. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to bury 
is face into those satiny tresses and inhale deeply, to breathe in that 
clean scent and feel that softness against his face. 

He nearly recoiled in horror at the fleeting thought. Where had -that- 
come from? Sure, Master Qui-Gon had nice hair but really, what a most 
improper action that would be. Even as he pondered it, his hands never 
faltered, still stroked that wonderfully silky mass. Another thought 
slipped in, replacing the first. He knew how soft it felt against his 
hands, the clinging filaments almost ticklish. How would it feel 
elsewhere? On his chest perhaps? His stomach, his...

Qui-Gon made a soft noise and Obi-Wan dropped the comb, terrified that 
his inappropriate thoughts had been discovered. But his master said 
nothing and upon closer inspection, Obi-Wan realized with a touch of 
pique that the older man was asleep. 

The flash of annoyance fled as quickly as it had come. Of course he was 
tired, neither of them had slept more than a handful of hours in the 
past few days. If he had any sense of his own he'd be tired too. 

He stepped back and with careful concentration he used the Force, 
gently, to shift his master into the bed. The other man never stirred, 
a testament to his trust in his student. Obi-Wan swore to himself that 
he would never betray that trust. He quickly slipped into his sleeping 
clothes before settling on the bed with his master and when he rested 
his head in the pillow, he could feel the very fringe of that soft 
weight brush his cheek, faintly smelled the fresh cleanliness of it. 

Sleep was a long time coming.

End

Questions, comments, Qui-Gon and/or Obi-Wan, naked and wrapped in 
cellophane to keelywolfe@aol.com