by Red Sith
[Read The Red Sith's author bio]

George owns the boyz, the sandbox is Siubhan's - thank you for letting me play in your universe. Thanks also to Beatkay and Jedimom for the beta.

The title for this story and the lyrics at the beginning of each character's section are from the song "Miserable" by Lit.

You make me come

     Why should I care if you're near me...

"Peanut butter?" Obi-Wan asked a second time.

"Peanut butter," Maul said. What, had Kenobi suddenly gone deaf?

Post-sex midnight snacks were nothing new. Maul didn't know what Kenobi's problem was. So what if a half-eaten pizza shared space on Maul's bed with pickled Gungan, barbequed Ewok, and melting Chubby Hubby. He still wanted peanut butter.

A frown creased Obi-Wan's forehead. "You're not pregnant again, are you?" he asked.

Maul wiped barbeque sauce off his face with the back of his hand. "I was never pregnant the first time, and you damn well know it."

"Well, we haven't been too careful lately, and I can't help wondering..."

"I'm not PREGNANT!" Maul threw an empty Pete's bottle in Obi's direction.

Obi-Wan ducked the bottle, holding up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, peanut butter coming right up."

Maul heard Kenobi rooting around in his kitchen, cupboard doors slamming, a muttered "damn" followed closely by the sound of mixing bowls hitting the floor. After a few moments Obi appeared in the bedroom doorway. "You're out, but I think I have some." He glanced at the bed again. "That is, if you're really sure you want..."

Maul growled. "Obi-Wan..."

"Just let me grab my pants," Obi-Wan chuckled.

Obi bent over to pick up his leggings, waggling his naked bottom in Maul's direction. Maul sent him an image of said naked bottom smeared with peanut butter. Sith were nothing if not focused.

In the living room the Sith Handbook flapped its pages and considered adding the rule, but it got stuck on the meaning of the double negative. Sith are focused? Sith are not focused? Sith are nothing? It settled on Sith Must Study the Elements of Style and slunk back in the corner, riffling its pages in annoyance

Maul took another bite of Ewok as the door slammed behind Obi-Wan. Barbequed Ewok was good, barbequed Ewok with peanut butter was better. He'd developed a taste for it ever since that food fight with Obi-Wan in the middle of his Eat Meat Until You Hurl diet.

My Apprentice sauntered into the bedroom. She'd been conspicuously absent earlier. Bedroom gymnastics between Sith and Jedi were not high on her must-see list.

There are some things even I wouldn't put in my mouth, she said, gazing at Maul's food selection.

"At least I don't lick my butt," Maul retorted.

But you do lick his--

"Do NOT go there."

My Apprentice stretched, tail high in the air, claws deeply imbedded in Maul's discarded clothes. Shifting her weight from one front leg to the other, she concentrated on the new holes she was putting in his favorite black jeans. The jeans put up a brief struggle, but Leev-Eye denim was no match for the fluffy paws of death.

Maul eyed the last of the barbequed Ewok ribs. He really, really wanted peanut butter. What was taking Obi-Wan so long?

He reached out with the Force, intending to send Kenobi a not-so-subtle visual of where else he could put the peanut butter, but instead he encountered the unmistakable Force presence of Qui-Gon Jinn. A very stoned, very pissed-off Qui-Gon, and in Obi-Wan's apartment. What the hell was he doing there this time of night?

Maul stopped chewing and concentrated.

This time he by-passed Qui-Gon and sought out Obi-Wan. The padawan was angry, too, talking quietly and with a hell of a lot of venom for a Jedi. Maul stretched out further, not eavesdropping as much as just soaking in all the glorious negative energ--

Back off, Maul. This is private.

The unmistakable sound of Kenobi's mindvoice was followed closely by the padawan's shields slamming down so tight it was like Obi-Wan had suddenly winked out of existence.

Maul blinked in surprise. Obi-Wan had shut him out. Obi-Wan, with Qui-Gon Jinn in his apartment, had shut him out. Obi-Wan, wearing only skimpy leggings and a healthy afterglow, with a stoned and more than likely intensely horny Qui-Gon Jinn in his apartment, had shut him out.

Maul pushed the remains of his snack away. He wasn't all that hungry anymore. Not that it had anything to do with Obi-Wan. Definitely not. He just wanted peanut butter.


Maul threw another empty beer bottle at his cat. With a wave of her paw My Apprentice deflected it into a stack of nearly-empty China Diner carry-out boxes. The burgeoning civilization struggling to survive on a petrified bit of egg foo yung immediately began using tools, hammering each other over the head while the bottle, whose dimensions were exactly 1x4x9, loomed over them.

Maul sat fuming in the middle of his bed, legs crossed, fist clenched tight around an Ewok rib. It was Qui-Gon's fault he wasn't getting any peanut butter. Qui-Gon always tried to keep him from getting his peanut butter. Qui-Gon thought he owned the damn peanut butter.

The bone shattered in his grip. Maul looked down at his hand. That felt good.

Maybe he should go destroy something else. Too bad Qui-Gon wasn't in the current version of Jedi Road Kill. But Maul wasn't in the mood for video games. Even Darth Lara Croft was no substitute for peanut butter, not when he really had his tastes set on it.

But there was something he could do. Lightsaber practice. Nice, deadly lightsaber practice.

The more Maul thought about it, the better he liked it.

Maul rarely practiced on the roof at night. As he watched the red blades of his lightsaber cut through the air he wondered why. Red blades, dark night, it seemed like a natural. Jump, flip, kick, slash, backwards thrust, downwards sweep, it was all more elegant, more deadly after dark.

He aimed a sidekick at an imaginary opponent, and so what if it was Qui-Gon? Maul's workout pants billowed around his legs, his foot at the perfect height to connect with the tall Jedi's chin. Maul followed the sidekick with a uppercut slash, allowing his momentum to carry the blade over his head, and he twirled it there before bringing the beam of energy down in a move calculated to separate a Jedi's head (Qui-Gon's head) from his body.

And so it went. Maul lost track of time, concentrating only on his movements, his imaginary opponent, and the feel of the saber in his hands. The Force gave strength to his body, sureness to his footing, height and distance to his leaps. Maul knew he had never fought so well.

A ripple in the Force finally made him stop and turn around.

Obi-Wan stood behind him, leaning on the wall next to the doorway to the roof. A half-naked, smouldering, unbelievably sexy Obi-Wan.

Maul swallowed hard and reminded himself he was still angry.


You make me complete

     I love the things that we should fear
     I'm not afraid of being here...

Obi-Wan contemplated the pleasures of licking barbeque sauce off Maul while his lover licked peanut butter off him. Obi hoped he had peanut butter; he usually kept a jar on hand, just in case. With Maul you never knew what might come in handy. Lately he'd started buying spatulas by the gross.

He was so distracted he never felt Qui-Gon's presence until he opened the door to his apartment.

His master was lounging on the couch, boots off, feet up on the coffee table. Even before Obi-Wan saw his master's eyes, he knew Qui-Gon was stoned.

"Master," he said, walking slowly into his living room. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, Padawan." Qui-Gon smiled and patted the couch next to him. "Come, sit next to me. We need to talk."

"Can we do this later? I'm in the middle of something." Obi-Wan kept walking into the kitchen. The sooner he found the peanut butter and got out of here, the better. There was a certain over-familiarity emanating from Qui-Gon, something Obi hadn't felt since he'd stopped sleeping with him. It made Obi-Wan uncomfortable.

"I know," Qui-Gon said. "That's why we need to talk."

A knot that had nothing to do with the nausea-inducing quality of his lover's midnight snack tightened in the pit of Obi-Wan's stomach. Qui-Gon was here about Maul.

Obi-Wan took longer than he needed to find the peanut butter, hiding his face behind an open cabinet door until he was sure he could control his features. A Jedi strove at all times to remain calm, to remain peaceful, to remain serene... unless his lover was fucking his brains out while eating peanut butter off his naked chest, then all that Jedi calm could go flying right out the window.

Obi-Wan sighed and tore his thoughts away from wild, Force-driven, peanut butter enhanced sex. Later, Kenobi, he promised himself. At least he hoped there would be a later.

"I'm worried about you, Padawan," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan shut the cabinet door and walked back into his living room. But instead of sitting down as his master asked, Obi stood in front of Qui-Gon, the jar of peanut butter held tightly in his right hand. "You know I've been dating Maul for some time now. It's not a secret."

"Not anymore." Obi saw Qui-Gon's eyes measure the distance between them, and he felt his master's sadness resonate along their training bond. I miss you, Padawan.

"I'm still here, Master," Obi said out loud, his voice soft. "I'm still your padawan, and I intend to be until I pass the trials. But Maul and I are exclusive." We can't be lovers anymore, Master.

"Lovers." Qui-Gon spat out the word like a curse. Obi-Wan didn't need their training bond to feel the older Jedi's anger, his jealousy. Qui-Gon's emotions were always more volatile when he was stoned. "Does that tattooed freak even know the first thing about love? About commitment?"

"We're exclusive."

"Exclusive." Another one-word curse.

"Maul agreed."

"I have no doubt you're faithful, Obi-Wan, but is he?"

The knot in Obi's stomach dissolved and an angry flame took its place. "Yes," he said, biting off the word.

Qui-Gon sat forward on the couch. "Are you sure?"

"For shite sake, yes, I'm sure!"

That was a lot sharper than Obi-Wan intended. He took a deep breath, made another effort to calm himself, but then Maul touched his thoughts and Obi felt him bask in the anger he was trying so hard to control. Obi-Wan loved having Maul in his head, but his mental touch was distracting and right now Obi needed to concentrate.

Back off, Maul, he sent. This is private.

That came out all wrong, too. Obi caught the echo of Maul's shock and surprise as Obi raised his mental shields, blocking Maul out. If he wasn't careful, he could end up losing the two most important people in his life, all in one night.

"He's no good for you, Padawan, I can feel it." Qui-Gon got to his feet, stood swaying for a moment, then took a step toward Obi. "He'll hurt you, and I don't want to see you hurt."

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "Are you forbidding me to see him then?"

The moments Obi-Wan stood waiting for Qui-Gon to answer were the longest in his life.

"I should," Qui-Gon said finally. "If I were the master you deserve, I would."

"But you won't, because you know I love him."

Qui-Gon sighed and the sound pulled at Obi-Wan's heart. "Yes, I know you do, Obi-Wan. I know you do." Qui-Gon reached out and touched Obi's braid. "But as Jedi we must be careful, Padawan. Love can make us do stupid things, and the dark can be very seductive."

Obi-Wan smiled, a crooked grin. "I may not be the best Jedi, but I still am one and nothing's about to change that. Not even Maul. But he's with me in here..." Obi touched his head. "Well, at least most of the time, and he's in here... " and Obi placed his hand over his heart. His smile faded. "I don't think I can live without him."

"Does he feel the same way about you?"

"Not that he'd ever admit it, but yes, I think he does."

Qui-Gon looked at him for a long time. His eyes still held that same quiet sadness, but whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

Finally his master patted him on the shoulder. "I've kept you long enough," Qui-Gon said. "I'll see you at the Temple in the morning."

Obi-Wan glanced down in relief, almost surprised to find he was still holding the jar of peanut butter. "Thank you," he said. One relationship saved, now it was time to salvage the other.

He headed for the door, but Qui-Gon remained where he was. "Master?" Obi asked.

"I'll just stay here for a bit until my head clears, if that's all right with you."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Of course. You can let yourself out whenever you're ready."

It didn't matter if Qui-Gon stayed, at least until whatever he'd taken wore off. His master didn't need any more citations for operating a speeder under the influence. Besides, if his luck held, Obi-Wan would be spending the night at Maul's anyway.

Only Maul wasn't in his apartment. The remnants of his midnight snack were still strewn across the bed, but Maul was nowhere to be found. Obi-Wan put the jar of peanut butter down next to the last Ewok rib and lowered his shields. He felt Maul almost immediately. He was working out, of all things. On the roof.

At least the elevator was working for once. Obi rode to the top floor, got off and found the stairs to the roof. He shielded himself again as his climbed. He wanted a chance to watch Maul, gauge his mood before he said anything.

The door to the roof was open and Obi-Wan slipped outside, his bare feet making no sound on the dirty permacrete. Still keeping his shields up, Obi-Wan leaned against the wall next to the door and watched his lover.

It soon became apparent to Obi that this was no normal workout. He's seen Maul in the gym on rare occasions and Maul put out only as much effort as was necessary. Obi always wondered how Maul could eat like he did and maintain such a magnificent body. Now he had some idea why.

But it wasn't just how hard Maul was working that was different. The skill Maul displayed here when he thought no one was watching was enough to take Obi's breath away. Maul's lightsaber moved so quickly the dual blades became one blurred whirl of energy. As Obi watched, Maul leaped high in a forward flip and landed gracefully on his feet, so well-balanced that he was able to immediately reverse directions with his body and his weapon, turning a defensive move into an aggressive attack.

Maul moved in utter silence, no growls, no grunts, just the deadly hum of his lightsaber slicing through the air. Muscles slid and bunched under smooth, sweat-slick skin. The wild predator that lurked inside Maul was out and on open display, and something deep inside Obi responded. Maul was his, and right now Obi wanted him more than he ever had in his life.

Obi opened his shields just enough to send out a small ripple in the Force. Maul turned around and looked at him.

"I've never seen you work out like that before," Obi said.

Maul looked angry. "I didn't hear you," he said, extinguishing his lightsaber.

"Jedi can be stealthy when we want to."

"And deceitful; they promise peanut butter and don't deliver."

Oh, yes, he was still angry.

"I had to talk to Qui-Gon, he was waiting for me. You know that." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Obi regretted them.

Maul's face took on a flat, closed-off look. "Then why aren't you with your master, Jedi?" he snapped.

"He wants me to be. He thinks you're no good for me."

"He's right. You should run away while you still can, before I corrupt you."

Obi-Wan couldn't stand the distance between them any more. Maul was hurt and jealous, and the best way to deal with that was to show him he had no reason to be. Obi pushed himself away from the wall and walked across the roof to stand in front of his lover.

Maul didn't back away, but he held his lightsaber in between them and thumbed on one blade. Obi could hear it humming, was close enough for its energy field to raise the hair on his arms.

"I'm not afraid of you," Obi said.

Maul snarled at him.

"And I told Qui-Gon no."

Maul stopped in mid-snarl.

Gotcha, Obi thought as he saw Maul try to cover his surprise with a sneer.

"I thought good little padawans always did what their masters told them."

Obi gave Maul his best bedroom grin. "Oh, but I'm not a good little padawan," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "You know it, and so does he." Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, Obi stroked Maul's chest. His lover's skin was warm and slick under his fingers.

Maul extinguished his lightsaber and hung it on his belt, and Obi moved closer.

"I told him..." Obi leaned forward to lick a bead of sweat off Maul's chest. "I told him I was a Jedi, and I always would be, and he was my master... " Obi paused again to run his lips over Maul's collarbone. "And he always would be, but I'm not about to live without you, and nothing he says..." kiss! "or does...." lick! "will ever change that."

Obi felt Maul's hands on him. He ran his lips up Maul's neck. "Have I ever told you how incredibly hot you are?" Obi-Wan whispered in his ear.

"Not nearly enough," Maul growled, and Obi-Wan found himself pulled in for a fierce kiss. Obi wrapped his arms around Maul and kissed him back.

I found the peanut butter. I left it on your bed.

Fuck the peanut butter.

I'd rather you fuck me.

Maul backed Obi up against the wall and did just that.


You make me completely miserable

     It makes me helpless alone
     Nothing to share...

Qui-Gon had heard them through the paper thin walls of his padawan's apartment. Grunting, shouting, moaning... bottles breaking, dishes crashing to the floor. Now they were on the roof and he felt them. Probably every Force-sensitive on this side of Coruscant felt them.

He buried his face in a pillow and groaned, but that was no good either. It smelled too much like his padawan. Plus it had horn gouges in it. Not exactly what Qui-Gon wanted to be reminded of.

He and Obi-Wan used to be like that, sex anywhere and everywhere. Before his padawan started dating his next door neighbor. Before that tattooed freak took his place.

Back in the good old days.

"You know you're getting old when you start getting sentimental about the good old days," he muttered. And you know you're getting senile when you start talking to yourself.

The room spun around him and Qui-Gon closed his eyes. He was spending too much time stoned lately. Way too much time stoned and alone.

There was something basically wrong with the universe when Palpatine's tattooed ward got laid more than he did. But then again Qui-Gon thought there was something basically wrong with Palpatine's tattooed ward. Something besides the fact that he was fucking Obi-Wan every night of the week and Force knew how many times on Sunday.

Qui-Gon had a bad feeling about Maul. It was more than simple jealousy, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. But he'd had it since the beginning, and the feeling was getting stronger every day.

The padawan's apartment was so quiet without him, even the hamsters were sleeping. Obi-Wan should be here with him, not fucking his neighbor on the roof. Qui-Gon had come here tonight intending to tell Obi-Wan he couldn't see Maul again, but he couldn't do it. The boy really did love Maul. Keeping Obi-Wan away from someone he loved wouldn't necessarily land him back in Qui-Gon's bed. Even stoned he knew that.

Qui-Gon just didn't like being alone. He wasn't made that way. Since he'd stopped sleeping with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon had kept himself busy with other people, but lately his casual tricks seemed to be disappearing. The Grey Side was half-empty most nights. Jon-Tra had all but disappeared from the Academy and he was too busy with baby Chewbecky to even think about sex. Senator Palpatine always seemed to be off campaigning somewhere, and no one had heard from Ben-Wa since he'd been sent away for treatment.

But the strangest thing was no one seemed to care. Qui-Gon sighed. Maybe something was wrong with the universe.

They were at it again on the roof. "The stamina of youth," Qui-Gon muttered. He looked down at himself, then at his right hand. "I guess it's just you and me again tonight, boys," he said.

But not here. He didn't want them to feel him, not when he was all alone. He'd go back to his place, pop in a video, and entertain himself.

Or maybe he could talk Mace into coming over. He still had some stuff in his stash Mace might like to try. And Mace was pretty hot when he was stoned. Not as hot as Obi-Wan, but still...

Qui-Gon slipped on his boots and left Obi-Wan's apartment. As he waited for the elevator, Obi's mindvoice touched his. Thank you, Master.

He was about to respond when that bad feeling hit him again and he shivered. By the time he recovered, he could tell it would be no use to send anything to his padawan. Obi-Wan was being thoroughly distracted. Again.

"Mace, old buddy," Qui-Gon muttered as the elevator doors opened. "I sure hope you're home."


     You make me come
     You make me complete
     You make me completely miserable...



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