Red Lights Mean Go As Well As Stop by Am-Chau Yarkona Summary: Obi-Wan goes to see his old friend, Dex, and shares some of his troubles. A story for the SW F-Q-F, challenge number 5: Obi-Wan is a virgin. Rating surprisingly low (PG-13?), pairing... not something I'm going to declare. Betaed by loneraven. Thanks, sweetie. Any remaining mistakes are all mine. "So, how's everything?" Dex asked, wanting to be polite but splitting his attention to a fourth place—he was watching the holovid news (a Senator standing down following a revelation about his preference for older men), slicing banga fruit for WA-7 to mix into the cocktails she was making, listening out in case Hermione needed help with the quarrelsome patrons at the other end of the diner, and observing Obi-Wan down another shot and slam his glass back onto the table. "Do I look like everything's peachy?" Obi-Wan enquired tartly. "Well, no," Dex agreed—he had already noted that Obi-Wan was wearing civilian rather than Jedi clothing, and had a scowl whose furrows would rival an ocean trench for depth. "Want to talk?" "I'd prefer another drink." Nodding, Dex waved to WA-7 to serve Obi-Wan when she'd handed over the cocktails, and continued, "You can talk as well as drink, you know. Though I'd advise not doing both at the same time." "You're a regular fountain of wisdom," Obi-Wan said, accepting seven shot glasses. "There are so many things wrong in my life, it would be impossible to list them all." "Try," Dex said. "My padawan is hitting puberty," Obi-Wan said. "I'm supposed to provide sex education. There's just no way…" "Ah," said Dex. "I see that's difficult, but far from impossible, surely?" "Oh, it's impossible all right," Obi-Wan asserted, downing another shot. "Totally impossible, especially if I hope to retain a modicum of dignity." For a moment, Dex contemplated asking why, but judged that Obi-Wan would open up if he felt like it, regardless of anything Dex did. Instead, he simply nodded sagely. Obi-Wan looked at him strangely and slightly drunkenly. "Aren't you going to ask why?" So much for Dex's vast experience of people. "You're welcome to tell me why," he said, in a tone which he hoped came over as apologetic. "Oh," Obi-Wan said. "I was hoping you would ask so I could refuse to answer." "You don't have to tell me now," Dex offered, but Obi-Wan scowled. "Or I can have a go at being really insistent, if you like." "No need," Obi-Wan said glumly. "You could work it out if you tried." "Talk me through it?" "What do you know about the sexual habits of Jedi?" Dex thought. "Err… nothing." "What do you know about the sexual habits of other groups? Senators, say, or nerf herders, or waitresses?" "Some," Dex allowed. "And what," Obi-Wan enquired, "do they all have in common?" "They all lose their jobs if they get caught with their pants down with the wrong person?" "Yes, but there's something even simpler than that." "They all pull their pants down sometimes?" "Exactly. What do you deduce about Jedi?" Dex pondered, and then squinted at Obi-Wan, and then hazarded, "Jedi always keep their pants on?" Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "Not all Jedi. But… I…" Dex was intrigued to observe that, for the first time in a decades-old friendship that had included many bawdy conversations, Obi-Wan was blushing. "You haven't…" Dex said, guessing, and quickly had it confirmed by Obi-Wan's nod. "Now do you see why I can't answer Anakin's questions satisfactorily?" “I do see it’s not easy for you,” Dex agreed. “But surely it can’t be that hard for you to, well, remedy the situation?” Beneath his mask of Jedi calm, Obi-Wan suddenly looked pale. “Really, my friend, it’s not that scary!” Dex said, chortling. “You face down Sith without a second thought, you must be able to cope with a woman!” “Err…” Obi-Wan seemed about to raise another objection, but opted for downing another shot instead. “At that rate, you’ll be really drunk soon,” Dex observed. “That’s still the plan,” Obi-Wan replied, pushing his empty glass towards his friend in a not-so-subtle hint. Dex curled a hand around it and waved gently towards the two full glasses which were left. Obi-Wan took another, but spoke before he drank it. “And don’t you dare ask why; I’ve just told you.” “Not really,” Dex said mildly. “Even for a Jedi, there aren't actually rules against hiring a companion for the night, are there?" "Well… no, though it's not exactly encouraged. Anyway, I couldn't." "Sure you could. I could recommend a place or two." Obi-Wan looked at him oddly, so Dex added, "It's what friends do for friends." "Some friends I have," Obi-Wan said morosely. "You think you'll drop by, get drunk, have a few laughs, but what do they do? Start handing out advice and prostitutes." "Okay, okay," Dex said, putting his hands up in mock-surrender. "I'm only trying to help, but if drink and laughter is what you want, we'll do that." As good as his word, Dex provided a large number of alcoholic drinks and told an even larger number of lewd jokes. Alternating between trying to maintain the last few shreds of his dignity and attempting to join in, Obi-Wan did more drinking than joking, to the point that when closing time came, Dex felt the need to suggest that he should leave tidying up to his staff and accompany Obi-Wan home. "Ah'm… hic… not tha'drunk," Obi-Wan protested. "Sober'p, ea, ea, easy." "I'm sure you can," Dex said soothingly, "I just don't think you should let Anakin see you like this. He might get ideas." That thought did seem to reach Obi-Wan. He groaned. "Ann'i… oh, fuck." "The other Jedi will look out for him, right?" Dex said, secretly impressed that Obi-Wan had managed to say 'fuck' without so much as a slur. "You just come home with me and sleep it off, and you can sort him out in the morning." Or maybe, he thought, the afternoon, when my hangover cure has had time to take effect. "O'ay," Obi-Wan agreed, grinning impishly. "Goin' 'ome?" "Yes, we're going home," Dex said. He watched Obi-Wan attempt to stand, swaying like a wind-blown bola tree, and sit down again with a thud. "Oh," said Obi-Wan, and burst into tears. Dex was glad that they were, Hermione and WA-7 aside, the only people in the place as he slid into the seat beside Obi-Wan and wrapped his left pair of arms around the sobbing Jedi. "Powers of the heavens, you really are drunk," Dex muttered. "What's going on, Obi-Wan?" "I… I… uh…" Obi-Wan sniffled, then rummaged in his pocket. "Gotta…" Dex reached for a paper napkin to offer him if he couldn't find a handkerchief, but Obi-Wan found what he was looking for—a small tube of tablets, labelled with two cryptic letters in Obi-Wan's measured italic handwriting. Obi-Wan took one, grimacing as he swallowed. He sat absolutely still for a moment, then explained, "Alcohol-negation tablets—designed for emergencies, but very useful and almost instant acting." "Neat," Dex said admiringly. He nearly asked what they contained and whether he could be allowed to sell them, but Obi-Wan was continuing. "I apologise for my behaviour this evening. I shouldn't have imposed on you like this—and I really ought to be heading back to the Temple. If you'll excuse me…" Obi-Wan tried, once more, to stand, but Dex's strong arms held him seated. "No, no, no, friend, you don't get away from me just by sobering up," Dex said, though he loosened his grip when Obi-Wan frowned. "I want to know what's going on here." Obi-Wan's eyes opened very wide, and Dex noticed that they were bluer than anything had a right to be. "Well, right now," Obi-Wan said, "we're sitting in your diner, principally because you didn't let me stand up." Dex wasn't in the mood to let Obi-Wan change the subject that way. "I mean, why you're acting like this. This isn't the Obi-Wan Kenobi I used to know." Shrugging, Obi-Wan said, "Times have changed, Dex. You know most of what there is to know—I'm supposed to be training Anakin, but I'm not making a very good teacher." "I bet you're being too hard on yourself," Dex said. "You—" "Dex!" Hermione called from the door. "WA-7 and I have tided up, but it's up to you to lock the doors now, okay? We're outta here." "Fine!" Dex shouted back. "Bright and early tomorrow, right? I want the brunch custom as well the evening shift!" "See ya!" Hermione replied, and slammed the door behind her. While Dex was thus distracted, Obi-Wan had managed to shuffle away and stand up. "I really ought to be going," he repeated, uncomfortably. "You really ought to be sorting out your issues," Dex countered. "By telling you?" Obi-Wan's tone was flat, but the arched eyebrow told an eloquent tale of sardonic intent. "Why not?" Dex shrugged. "A problem shared is a problem halved—or do you have to put it in Yoda-speak? Halved a problem shared is?" "Two things," Obi-Wan said. He slid back into his seat, looking less confrontational and more conversation, which Dex thought tended to confirm that he wanted to talk about something. "One, no, Jedi wisdom is not all—or even mostly—encapsulated in unusual grammar; and two, there are a number of times when I've found that a problem shared turned out to be a problem doubled." "But share 'I'm a virgin' with the right person, and you could both be completely free of the problem." Obi-Wan gasped, gaped, blushed, swallowed, and regained a small amount of dignity, all in one movement. Dex had to assume that it was Force-assisted. "Well, you could," he continued, pretending to ignore Obi-Wan's reaction. "Sure, you might have other problems. But it seems to me that you'd be making a good start if you dealt with that one." "Okay," Obi-Wan said, suddenly quite calm again, though still a little red in the cheeks. "Suppose I agree with you. What exactly is your plan of action?" Dex hadn't been quite prepared for this turn of events, but he thought fast. "I'd… take you over to a friend of mine, use the code-words—all botany related, please don't ask why—and she'd set you up with a nice girl, probably tonight." Dex checked the time. "Yeah, tonight, we're not into tomorrow yet." "'A nice girl'," Obi-Wan repeated, thoughtfully. "And…" He paused. "But supposing…" "Supposing what?" Dex asked. "Oh, never mind." Obi-Wan waved a hand dismissively. "I think I'll just go home and…" "Why shouldn't I mind?" Dex enquired, his eyes narrowing. "Tell me what's wrong with the plan, Obi-Wan. Most elements can be changed." Obi-Wan looked at Dex and sighed. "I can't tell you." "Oh? Some sort of classified Jedi business?" "No, but…" "Someone else's secret?" "No, but…" Obi-Wan was starting to look trapped. Dex hurried on, not liking what he was doing but feeling that it would be better if it was done. "So it's your secret to tell?" "Yes." Obi-Wan tensed as if readying for a fight. "Then tell me," Dex urged. "This would be easier if I was still drunk." "There's still time…" Obi-Wan shook his head. "Not actually a good idea. On the off-chance that your plan can be modified, there's no sense in, err, rendering me unable to follow through with it." "What modification needs making?" "Promise you won't hate me." Dex frowned at the idea that he might, but nodded. "I'm a cook, a diner owner, in the evenings a barman, but not one of these gutter-press people who've just launched a hate-campaign against Senator Jb'tul' for sleeping with a man. There's nearly nobody I hate, and most of those I do are those that owe me money." Obi-Wan seemed to breathe a little easier at that, but he still looked uptight. "Since you mention Jb'tul''s case…" "Same thing?" "Approximately," Obi-Wan nodded. He was watching Dex very carefully. Aware of the observation, Dex laughed, a rich, hearty laugh. "That's all? Easy. We'll just ask my friend for a tall, spiny tree instead of a round, soft bush. No problem." "Then, Dexter Jettster, your plan is suitably modified," Obi-Wan said, returning Dex's wide grin, and sprang out of his seat. "Shall we go?" "We shall," Dex said. On the way out, they paused only once, and briefly—for Dex to lock the diner doors. Stories Index