Tea For Two

Chapter Three

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The museum was boring. Dormé had never been so bored in her entire life. She turned, pretending to study the portrait behind them on the wall as she smothered a yawn. Her 'kiss me' vibes were beginning to wane. Boredom was winning out. She'd only suggested the museum because there were a wealth of shadowed nooks and crannies they could cuddle together in, thus increasing the chance of passionate and unrestrained kisses.

But it was becoming obvious that they weren't going to do anything that would get them thrown out of the museum. Pity. She really wanted him to kiss her. Dormé dreamed of being enfolded into his arms and cradled against him as his lips sought hers. She wouldn't even mind if his hands roamed. In fact, she'd prefer it. A few liberties would be appreciated and she was more than willing to allow them.

When was the last time she'd been on a date? She struggled to recall it and was dismayed to find she couldn't remember. There was not even a glimmer of memory as to when she'd last been kissed and by whom. Not good, she decided. Not good at all.

I have to get out more. Surely Padmé will understand. After all, she's got Anakin. She has to understand these things a bit more now. Or at least she should, considering how they behave together.

Dormé turned back to her companion, finding him watching her with a warm light in his blue eyes. Her heartbeat quickened as he took a step closer. Oh, yes. This was good. Closeness was a good thing. Obi-Wan's hand touched her arm, slid down to grasp her hand in his. Their fingers twined together. His other hand raised to her jaw, cupping tenderly.

Her lips parted in anticipation. It's about time, she thought. Dormé raised her chin a notch, hoping she wouldn't go into a full out swoon the second he kissed her, though it was highly likely considering she'd been dreaming about such a moment for weeks. The reality might be too much for her.

She closed her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan decided the time was right. They were in a secluded area of the museum, practically hidden near a stairwell and he didn't think he could wait much longer to kiss her. No one could see them. They had complete privacy. He leaned closer, taking a quick sniff of her perfume. Delicate and fragrant. He could feel anticipation thrumming in the air and was actively moving in for the kiss when he heard a young female voice from his right elbow.

"Eww, you're playing kissy-face!"

"Oh gross," came a second voice, this one male and just as young.

Obi-Wan paused, glancing askance, a breath away from Dormé. He blinked, wondered if Anakin had paid these two to interrupt them and decided even Anakin wouldn't be so devious. Mace on the other hand.... He straightened.

"Are you married," the girl asked, studying them with curious eyes.

"No, we're not," Dormé said with a smile, loosening herself and taking a step from him. She clasped her hands together. The pose would have been serene had he not noticed how tightly her hands clenched. She wasn't any more pleased than he at being interrupted.

The boy scrunched up his nose, circling them and stopping with his face nearly pressed to Obi-Wan's lightsaber. "Is this a lightsaber? Are you a Jedi? Are you both Jedi?" His eyes were wide, excitement brimming in them. "Are you, are you, are you?"

"I am," Obi-Wan replied as courteously as he could manage with his visions of kissing Dormé shriveling to dust. He certainly couldn't kiss her with these to watching, so he resigned himself to waiting.

"Wow," the girl grinned, bouncing up and down on the soles of her feet. "Can I marry you then? I wanna marry a Jedi. That'd be so neat!"

"Jedi aren't allowed to marry," Obi-Wan informed them, though the boy wasn't paying any attention. He was too busy pretending to wield a lightsaber and making obnoxious humming noises as he endangered what Obi-Wan assumed were centuries old artifacts.

The girl now crossed her arms, giving them both a critical and suspicious stare. "Then why were you kissing the pretty lady? My mommy says that only married people kiss and if you're not married she's gonna end up pregnant."

Dormé began to cough.

"Well, that's not exactly how--" Obi-Wan began, wishing Dormé would perhaps help him out here. She seemed to be having trouble breathing though.... No, he realized, she wasn't coughing, she was snickering in a most unladylike fashion. He raised a brow at her, which only served to strengthen her snickers.

"Show me your lightsaber," the boy yelled, tugging hard enough on Obi-Wan's tunic to make him stagger. "Please! I really wanna see one and mom never lets me see anything cool like that." He began that annoying pretend lightsaber humming again, swooping about in a fight with an imaginary opponent.

"Not today and not in the museum."

"Oh, you're no fun," the boy stomped his feet with a scowl.

"Are you pregnant," the girl asked Dormé, stretching out a hand and poking her in the side.

"That was not nice," Dormé said sternly, though the effect was marred, in Obi-Wan's opinion, by her continued snickers. "You don't ask people that."

"Why not? I wanna know. You were kissing the Jedi, so you must be gonna have a baby."

"I wasn't kissing the Jedi."

"Yes, you were. I saw you. You had the same look on your face my mommy gets before she and daddy do that. You were kissing him. Kissy, kissy, kissy."

"No, I wasn't." Her chuckles tapered off and a scowl darkened her brow as the girl continued to insist that Dormé had been kissing the Jedi. "I was not, at any time, kissing the Jedi."

"Yes, you were."

"Was not."

"Jedi and pretty lady sitting in a tree," the girl began singing.

"Mean old Jedi," the boy muttered.

Obi-Wan took Dormé's hand and edged around the two children, but they followed. The boy continued to whine about seeing the lightsaber. Obi-Wan strode back into one large exhibit, Dormé in tow, wondering where he'd heard that song before. It struck a chord of memory that wouldn't quite harmonize properly.

"--Then comes marriage, then comes the Jedi with a baby carriage."

There seemed to be no other patrons in the museum today, annoyance pricking at him. Come on, the children didn't just appear out of nowhere. Someone here had to be responsible for them.

"Jedi and pretty lady sitting in a tree," the girl began again at the top of her lungs, "k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage--"

"Jedi can't marry," Obi-Wan reminded her, looking about for someone that might possibly be the parent, guardian or teacher of these two obnoxious children. He liked children, really he did, but these two were the worst he'd seen in a long time. Ill-mannered, loud and the general sort that were a good argument for birth control.

Where had he heard that song?

The boy appeared to lose interest in them as he spied an exhibit of glass artifacts. He hurried to them, staring at the objects with an expression on his face that Obi-Wan recognized. Not all Jedi children were well-behaved at all times and he'd seen that look enough times to know that trouble was soon coming.

"Then comes the Jedi with a baby carriage." The girl began an eighth chorus, dancing now as she sang, her shoes making a rhythmic clacking on the smooth hard floor, and Obi-Wan finally remembered where he'd heard it before.

Anakin.

His suspicion was right, wasn't it? Anakin knew these children. He'd paid them or something to follow his Master. He was here in the building, snickering at the discomfort he was causing....

No, Obi-Wan thought. That's paranoia. Anakin is not following you. You left him at the Temple. Nor did he pay off two kids to irritate you. He'd rather irritate you himself if at all possible.

Just then, the boy reached into the exhibit and grabbed one of the glass objects.

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're imagining things, Padmé." Anakin chewed the piece of fruit she fed him as he considered her vocal musings.

"And you're not seeing what's there. I tell you, Obi-Wan Kenobi has a wild streak that he hides under that 'veneer of dullness', as you called it."

"He does not," he argued. He couldn't remember his Master ever being anything but a model Jedi. Patient, courteous and inclined give to lectures in the use of caution, discretion and tact at the drop of a cloak. "He'd never resort to behavior 'unbecoming a Jedi', and I say that because it's true."

"He wouldn't, huh?" She arched a brow with a knowing smile that sent hormones flooding his body in a rush. Anakin loved that smile. It hinted of things he wasn't supposed to have anything to do with. "You obviously didn't see Dormé's dress."

"Really?" He raised his brows in question. "What, did she wear something that shows an ankle? No, I know, her dress didn't cover her entire neck."

Padmé made a face at him and set the bowl of fruit aside. "It was a dress for seduction, Anakin."

"Ooh," he laughed, "she wore something that came to her knees instead of the floor."

"Shows what you know," Padmé shoved his shoulder. "It was like my purple dress. Almost exactly like it."

"Which one? You've got about seven."

"The dark purple with the slits up the sides and the top cut here...." She trailed off, drawing imaginary lines on her chest, stomach and sides. "You remember?" There was a blush on her cheeks.

Anakin's mouth opened as he recalled the dress she was talking about. Yeah, he remembered that dress. Bare skin and enticing shadow glimpses of pale limbs when she walked. He grinned. Luscious curves near to bursting from the strips of fabric. He'd been waiting for her when she'd come in from.... "Seduction? Padmé, you wore yours to the opera." He frowned.

Padmé laughed. "Well, I knew you'd be waiting for me when I got back. I was looking forward to your reaction." She settled against him, stroking her hand across his chest. "I planned that dress for you."

"And Dormé has one like it?" That seemed odd to him, considering the handmaiden's propensity for covering up. Sometimes it was difficult to tell that she even had a nice figure. It wasn't as nice as Padmé's, but it was nice enough. He held his wife close. "Poor Obi-Wan doesn't stand a chance."