I want a lifesaver
Who: Obi-Wan and Loras What: Following the brawl at the gay bar, Obi and Loras retire for the night, get a little drunk, and watch movies Where: Minnesota Somewheres When: Late Last Saturday Night Status: Complete; Continuation from This Log Rating: R; Just for general content, no specific warnings -- some meta content
"Let's just get drunk and eat too much and watch bad porn," he suggested. "Straight porn. " For Obi-Wan's sake.
There was a time, years back, when Obi-Wan would have sought the same thing. But now, looking back, he knew those women and those parties and those pills had been a waste of his time. And his understanding had deepen a hundred-fold now that he had Danielle. They had been bandages, and even then more tape than gauze; something that had barely kept him together and hurt like a bitch once they tore. And Danielle herself wasn't the cure, but loving her was healing him from within.
Oh, he was becoming such a sappy romantic. It was wonderful.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't care for porn. Surprised? I think not."
"Westerns, then."
Who cared? Loras didn't, that was for sure, he just didn't want to go out again. Where would he go? Trumpsing about with Obi-Wan to wingman him in hopes that whoever they picked out liked to stick their dick in pretty boys? Loras wanted to forget, but he wasn't that desperate either.
They entered the hotel and left the crisp Minnesota air behind him for the rest of the night. “We’ll see what’s on the telly,” Obi-Wan said, as he began to fiddle for his key. “Your place or mine?”
"Mine," Loras half belched.
On the way, he stopped at the kitchens and asked for three bottles of red wine as well as enough food for four people. Whether or not Obi-Wan drank white or red was not a concern to his half drunken mind. Loras paid for the bottles with a bit of money he'd earned over the weekend. Soon, he'd have checks from all of his sponsors, more than enough to live on for the next year, perhaps even more. Loras handed one of the bottles to Obi-Wan. The food would be delivered to their room.
Obi-Wan did happen to prefer red wine, though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a glass. Walking behind Loras back to the room, he wistfully thought of killing a bottle with Danielle sometime in the near future -- but considering her whiskey with breakfast routine, maybe it wasn’t the best idea. He sighed a bit. He missed her. Even her bad habits. He was having fun, but she seemed so far away back in California.
Stepping into Loras’ room, the first words out of his mouth were, “Did they give you the bloody penthouse?” It was a far cry from Obi-Wan’s single room with the king size bed. Why Loras had wanted to hang out here was obvious. “I’ve lived in places smaller than this.”
"It's good to be champion," Loras said with all the arrogance of the Knight of Flowers, which he was. There were sponsor gifts strewn about the room. Some of it interested Loras, some of it didn't. The robe definitely interested him. Loras unbuttoned his shirt shrugged it off, letting it land sloppily on the floor, all while toeing off his boots. He grabbed the robe from the back of a chair and put it on after he placed the wine bottles down.
"Feel free to wear the other one," he said, gesturing to one that still hung on the closet door. With the robe on, Loras pulled his jeans down, then stepped out of them, leaving him in boxers and a robe.
Obi-Wan wrapped the matching robe around himself with his clothing still on and didn’t think much of it. He flopped onto the bed and picked up one of the wine bottles. “Do we have a cork screw--aha!” He had spotted one on the night table and he set to work. “Are we using glasses?” Personally, since the ratio of bottles to persons was even, it seemed more like a drink-straight-from-the-bottle kind of night.
He hummed lightly, thinking how nonchalant he felt about drinking now. He felt safe. He didn’t worry about trusting himself. He raised his eyes and grinned at Loras. This bizarro, eternal bond of brotherhood had something to do with that.
"Psssh, no," Loras said as if his best friend should already know this. Before he was able to flop beside Obi-Wan, there was a knock at the door. Knowing it was room service, Loras grabbed his wallet, then opened the door. He let the attractive guy push the tray in and tipped him extra just for looking the way he did. The guy thanked him, then went on his way, closing the door behind him. Loras pushed the cart into the room and parked it beside the bed, pulling the lids off the food he'd ordered. He dipped a finger into the icing of the chocolate cake. It was cream icing, soft and sweet. Loras looked at it as though he'd never seen cream before. He hadn't eaten anything sweet in so long, he'd forgotten what it tasted like and he was hesitant, thinking about how much weight he'd have to work off when he got back home. It was going to be a tragedy to gain even a pound, but Loras said a prayer, then popped the digit between his lips. When the taste hit his tongue, he closed his eyes and hummed in utter bliss.
By now, Obi-Wan had opened the second bottle and sat with them both on his lap as he held both necks. His cheekbones popped as he smiled at the sheer amount of food: enough for five Lorases; good thing he was around to help him out. The whole roast chicken looked especially good. “Bring that bird over here,” Obi-Wan said, extending a wine bottle as if in exchange.
There was still enough sticky sugar on his finger that he didn't pull it from his mouth straight away. With one hand, he slid the roasted chicken to Obi-Wan, along with the utensils to eat it with. When his digit was more spit than sugar, he removed it and took the cake with him when he finally settled in bed, stealing the bottle of wine from Obi-Wan's lap. The remote was glued to the night stand. Loras pressed the television on and flipped through channels, waiting for Obi-Wan to say if he liked something. At the same time, he picked at his cake, taking off a crumb and eating it slowly. "Will you still love me when I'm fat?" he asked Obi-Wan, then took a few swallows of wine.
Obi-Wan placed his bottle on his nightstand, deciding he was more interested in the chicken at the moment, and scooted back against the headboard. “Of course. I will keep you around to make sure I look thin.” Personally, he thought Loras could do with a few extra pounds on him, even fat. Victor or not, he had looked so tiny in that ring. “Eat up,” he said, nodding at the cake.
For good measure, Obi-Wan swiped a line of frosting for himself. Usually, he ate so deplorably, the richness of the frosting damn near gave him a semi. He couldn’t help but think of Danielle again. He could just cover her in this stuff...
Obi-Wan’s face had flushed. He cleared his throat and looked back at the flickering channels on the television, waiting for something to catch his eye.
"Get!" Loras laughed, slapping halfheartedly at Obi-Wan's hand as though he even cared. This time, he pulled a chunk of soft cake and cream and was just about to pop it in his mouth when the remote landed on something that made him pause. Loras flipped the station back to what he'd seen and felt the cake slide from his fingers. Loras was drunk, but only a little, and last he checked, alcohol didn't make someone hallucinate.
He'd known for a while now that Obi-Wan was the real, actual Obi-Wan Kenobi, living under his roof with his accent and soft but subtly tough voice. "Obi," he started, just to be sure that Obi-Wan was seeing what Loras was seeing. On television, Obi-Wan stepped lightly across a platform. It was raining and he was looking beautifully up at his lightsaber with an expression Loras had seen before, but never like this.
Obi-Wan's eyes had happened to be on Loras at the time, and he watched him halt with the piece of cake before him as though he was contemplating its very existence. But Loras' gaze was unfocused on the cake. Obi-Wan followed the taut line of sight to the television screen.
He didn't speak, but he made a sound that resembled several profanities. He gaped and winced against a sharp twinge in his furrowed forehead, right between his eyes, while the same pair of gray eyes stared right back at him.
"...I ..II," he stammered softly. "I haven't been able to bring myself to watch them..." It was very unlike him to lose his tongue's footing. The pain in his forehead spiked again.
Surreal was an understatement. It was possible that Loras had been avoiding the films as well, if not avoiding things that were happening right in front of him. He knew, but he refused to accept it most of the time, that dreams had fused themselves in with reality. Obi-Wan had never looked so graceful to Loras. He looked over at the man beside him, at the beard and the expression that was undeniably Obi-Wan Kenobi of both worlds.
"How?" he asked as if Obi held all the answers. On the screen, Obi-Wan said something that made Loras laugh a little. Who knew that Obi-Wan could be so full of dry humour even in the face of death?
Wine. Obi-Wan needed some wine. He picked up his bottle and took a drink and allowed that to be an answer to Loras question. It was the only one he had. “Oh, that’s just embarrassing,” Obi-Wan commented, as he watched himself fall from the platform, half-assed as usual. He had to admit, it was a bit like watching a home movie.
Was Obi-Wan mad? Loras was good. Damn good. But not that good.
"Can you seriously do that?" he asked in awe, his blue eyes wide. For that moment, even with the wine bottle to his lips, Loras looked all of sixteen years old, watching his idol on television.
Obi-Wan was still gritting his teeth. Now, he was wrinkling his nose, as well. He turned to look at Loras, because it was far more comfortable watching his reactions than watching himself slip and slide in the rain. he was clumsy for a Jedi.
"Well, I don't get many opportunities to try it," he said. "If you can imagine." He could hear himself groan as he dangled for his life on the edge of the platform. He didn’t have to look to know what was happening. "God, what a botched mission."
As if Loras would know if it was botched or not. To him, it looked like Obi-Wan was performing quite gracefully and the bad guy was defeated.
"Stop critiquing yourself," he said to his friend, his eyes still on the screen. At the moment, Obi-Wan wasn't on it, so Loras turned to the one that was beside him, disinterested in anything else that didn't have the man in the scene. "It's really you, isn't it?" he asked. "I know it is, but..." Seeing it for himself was a horse of a completely different colour.
The ache in Obi-Wan's head had grown to the point where it was pounding. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "The dreams don't feel like dreams at all anymore," he said in response. "They feel like memories from a long time ago." He eyes Loras through narrow slits and tried to pretend everything was reasonably okay, as far as his headache went. "Is that what it's like for you?
It seemed for a minute that Loras might not answer. He stared at the television screen with a deep frown on his face, his expression unreadable. He took another two swallows of wine, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"No," he answered at length, clutching the wine bottle in his right hand as if he might lob it straight at the television. "They're not like memories. They are memories, and I relive them over and over and over again, like I'm being punished for not saving him." He took another swallow, then downed the bottle completely, still grasping it in his hand. "That's why he left," Loras slurred, "That's why I'm here, and you're here....and he's off fucking some other boy who isn't me, because I can't even save him." His bottom lip trembled as if he might cry, or maybe scream.
Through the thin slits of his eyelids, Obi-Wan half-expected that Loras was about to pitch the bottle at the television. His thoughts were becoming difficult to sort, as his friend’s feverish emotions thickened and pervaded his own like a acrid fog. He was only catching a few words at a time, while his brain felt like it was being repeatedly stabbed.
At last, Obi-Wan made the move to climb across the bed and push the power button on the remote with what meager strength he was able to gather up. It looked like a diving motion. At once, the pain began to subside and he released a sigh of relief. When he opened his eyes, it was the ceiling he saw. He was stretched across the pillows and Loras’ back was a wall at the other side of his field of vision.
Obi-Wan allowed himself another moment to sort out everything his friend had said and then he lifted his hand and unself-consciously placed it between Loras’ shoulder blades. He made circles with his palm. “You know...” he spoke slowly and his throat was hoarse. “...He might have been your love there, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be the same here. There is someone I loved, too; but she isn’t here... and for some reason I know she isn’t meant to be. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
"Obi! What!" Before Loras could reach out and catch hold of his friend, Obi-Wan had made a leap that almost made Loras cry out in laughter. His hand just caught the lining of Obi-Wan's robe, and admittedly, the backrub did make him feel slightly better. The words would have made things worse if it weren't for Obi-Wan being so adorably buzzed.
Loras blocked Obi-Wan's view of the ceiling, tucking hair behind his own ear so it wouldn't graze his friend's handsome face. "Have a little more wine," he teased. "And don't try to make me feel better."
Obi-Wan skewed his face. "Why not?" he asked. He wanted to. Wasn't that a good thing? Meanwhile, he gestured for the bottle of wine he had left on his night table.
Before he placed the bottle against Obi-Wan's hand, Loras took a deep pull from it, and was barely able to aim it against his friend's palm.
"No," he belched out. "That doesn't make me feel better that it's different here. Fuck's sake, Obi." The only thing that made him feel better was that maybe no one was after Renly and wasn't going to put a knife through his chest.
"I want," he said, holding up a finger as if to emphasize his point, "I want to be...a Jedi."
Obi-Wan's hand floated through the air as he missed the bottle on more than one pass. Finally, he gripped it and propped himself up on his elbows to drink. A little wine dripped into his beard and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, careful not to stain the robe.
When he pulled the bottle from his lips, he made a sound like a releasing suction cup. "You want to be a what? A Jedi? Why?"
Loras shrugged. "I want a life saver..." No. No, that wasn't right. "I mean I want a light saver." Or whatever. "Plus you can move things with you mind, and make people do what you want them to, and that..." Loras suddenly became quite engrossed with his index finger for a moment before pointing it down at Obi-Wan, "that is impressive, my friend."
Had be been sober, Obi-Wan would have launched into a lecture, about the risks of exercising mental powers over others. He would have cited several examples. Many of them would have centered around Dani, and what how much he had unintentionally hurt her with his messed up brain.
But Obi-Wan was not sober. He wasn't exactly drunk either, but it was close enough. "I think you could have been a very good Jedi," he replied, for all the right reasons.