Work Text:
"I can't find it!" Obi-Wan growled through gritted teeth, feet nevertheless moving perfectly in the rhythm of the kata Qui-Gon was teaching him. Qui-Gon said nothing, but moved a little faster, lightsaber sweeping downward with a little more force.
And all at once it clicked. Obi-Wan felt his hands moving as though they were flowing, his body knowing what to do without his mind being in the way.
A few seconds after that, Qui-Gon stepped back and powered down his lightsaber. Caught in the movement, Obi-Wan didn't want it to end and followed the steps through, ending up far too close to Qui-Gon, lightsaber hissing out bare nanoseconds before it would have touched his Master's tunic.
"It's rustic, but I think I like it," Obi-Wan said, looking up. He really was far too close to his Master, but somehow didn't want to step back.
Neither did Qui-Gon, apparently, who stood looking down at him, a faint trace of something Obi-Wan couldn't quite decipher in his eyes. "It wasn't originally developed to be a form of combat, Padawan," he said quietly. "Later it became that, but in its original form the Paca Korlas was a dance. And despite your frustrations, Obi-Wan, you honoured that ancient ritual."
Qui-Gon put an arm around his Padawan's shoulders. "It wasn't until yesterday, when I was reading a book about it, that I learned the Paca was once a dance between two lovers and ended in the equivalent of a marriage proposal."
Obi-Wan could feel himself blushing, certain that Qui-Gon was reading him altogether too well. "What part of the dance were we performing, Master?"
He could almost hear Qui-Gon's smile in the next words, which were softly whispered. "The beginning of love, when the beloved struggles to understand and finally finds the way."