Chapter Text
"There's something we need to discuss," Qui-Gon announced in a slightly uncertain tone.
"Is there?" Dooku asked mildly.
"Yes--Master," his padawan's nervousness was increasing. "Master Yoda" --and his voice conveyed excellently a mixture of indulgence and reverence in the name-- "insists it's time for you to speak to me about--well, about adult relationships."
Yan chuckled slightly. At times Yoda had a rather vicious sense of humor, though he, with even more of that quality, could say little about it. But if he didn't laugh, he'd have groaned at getting stuck with giving Qui-Gon the proverbial talk when his own had been given, awkwardly, by Yoda, and he'd never seen much success when he did dabble in such things. Interpersonal relationships were complicated anyway, and the attribute was compounded by his being a Jedi. Yet-there was something about Qui-Gon's body language that suggested he was withholding something--some bit of information--that might improve his experience.
"Well, at a certain age, as I imagine you know, you--humans in general--begin to be interested in sexual activity--" Dooku stopped speaking as his padawan regarded him with one of his rare particularly penetrating gazes, one to which the description "guileless" could not be applied.
"I'm not," he stated matter-of-factly.
Yan was not certain what to say to this, but tried, "It is quite fine if you're interested in other boys, Qui-Gon," anyway.
Jinn looked up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes at his master. "That's not it, Master. I just have no inclination whatsoever to be sexually involved with anyone. I know all the biology already. But I'm not even interested, really, in kissing."
Dooku made a wry face. "And Yoda thought this warranted discussion why?" It didn't bother him after he thought about it--it was quite usual for him not to regard anyone in particular as attractive sexually, though it did happen from time to time, and he wasn't really romantically inclined toward men. And anyway Qui-Gon might not be interested in that sort of thing, but he was still more inclined to both physical affection and attachment than was considered entirely appropriate. Somewhere in there, Yan was probably a bit jealous of that, really, because he was attached to his Padawan, hadn't been able to avoid it and hadn't wanted to, but he'd known so many false friends over the years that it didn't come easily.
"I think he presumed I had an interest in some of it," Qui-Gon answered, lightly imitating his teacher-mentor-brother's dry tones.
"But you don't."
"Yes."
"Very well then, what do you expect me to say?"
"To him?" Qui-Gon asked, childish horror evident on his face and his nose even wrinkled in disgust before he assumed a more placid expression.
"No, to you," Yan replied, allowing both a weary air and a hint of amusement to enter his voice.
"I don't know, Master Dooku," his padawan said, with a complex innocence that was only partly fact, which impression was rather reinforced by the fact that he took the opportunity to hug the older Jedi.
Yan sighed, though he did place a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder, the confounded sense of propriety that distinguished him from the boy keeping him from offering the gesture generously. "I'm not that frequently interested myself in sex. Though I do like kissing, and you are not to protest about how 'gross' that is, as younglings are wont to do."
Qui-Gon eyed him, communicating perfectly but wordlessly, Would I really do that?. "Perhaps that's not quite what I meant," he said thoughtfully. "Parents--I just, the kissing that everyone talks about doesn't appeal. I don't see what's great about it. I don't exactly think it's gross." As if to prove his point, he took the opportunity to brush his lips against his master's jaw, in an inexperienced but not unpleasant sort of kiss. Abruptly he pulled back and said "Am I--?" the rest of question, being too physically forward, Master? going unsaid.
Dooku regarded his padawan with indulgent fondness (he was not, after all, apt to truly inappropriate gestures in this vein) but did not address the matter, instructing him teasingly, "Do say what you mean, Qui-Gon."
"I think it's called aromantic asexuality. At least--"
"Which words I shall have no occasion to use, as I'm not given to announcing such things."
"Ah, no," Qui-Gon acknowledged, now beaming at his master as he smiled at plants and worlds in general.
"Nor is your--aromantic asexuality an adequate justification for adopting every pitiful lifeform you come across. That is an unrelated failing--" in a tone that suggested rather that he found it endearing if annoying "--you will have to cope with."
He shook with silent laughter and put his arm around Yan's shoulder, pressing his cheek to his master's.
While Yan did not shirk from the caress, he did add, "Nor does this revelation mean you should be more affectionate towards me."
"Master!" Qui-Gon exclaimed with more horror than he really felt.
Yielding to his protest, the elder Jedi amended, "Except in the privacy of our quarters. You are plenty affectionate enough already, and the Order at large does not tend to smile indulgently on such physical attachment."
His padawan detached himself from Yan and looked for a moment as if he were about to say something that excited him, but what came out instead was a concerned, "Do I--touch you too much, Master? I mean, more than you're comfortable with?"
Dooku sighed almost imperceptibly. Strictly speaking, it did make him uncomfortable, reminding him constantly as it did both of Qui-Gon's dangerous propensity to wholehearted attachment and his own scars that had ensured he suppressed almost any such inclinations. But that was not to say he disliked it entirely. "I do not really mind it, Qui-Gon. It is a part of your nature, and that has grown on me, like one of your beloved plants."
"Oh," said the boy--young man, really--apparently cheered by his oblique admission of fondness. Really he deserved more than that, but it was not in Yan's person to grant it. "You know, Master, they used to, long ago. Be okay with physical affection. They considered it part of compassion."
He had not known that, but it did not surprise him that Qui-Gon did. He was obstinate, and bound and determined to become his own notion of a Jedi, or what one should be--or at least the closest Qui-Gon could come, which, while Yan was not wholly convinced on the ideal, was much closer than he himself, with his jaded heart, cruel streak, and reserved propriety could come, except that he was fairly certain his padawan, in the wisdom of youth, would disagree with that notion. After all, Qui-Gon admired him, and had blossomed into such self-assurance only after being placed with him, as a relatively independently minded master. "Mmm," he allowed noncommittally.
Suddenly his padawan seemed to recall something he had meant to do, "Do--do we have to discuss this any further, or can I go off to the garden?"
"No-" Yan said slowly, and smiled, though not broadly, "no, I think we've addressed as much of the subject as is currently necessary."
"Thanks, Master Yan!" he exclaimed, the childish joy that was still in him showing up as it did from time to time, and momentarily grasped his teacher's wrist in fond farewell before rushing away.