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Fifty Moments of You and Me

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Maul outstretched his finger to point at his partner. Obi-Wan only felt like he was having slight heart failure when he saw the shattered glass and macaroni on the floor.


“I call bullshit,” Kenobi said, narrowing his eyes. Maul smirked at him, dashing down the hall and coming back with a degree that clearly stated yes, he had majored in astrophysics.


The first thing Kenobi heard when he entered the apartment was a loud crash, followed almost immediately by a surprised, “Fuck!” He rushed into the other room and found Maul buried in various pots and pans.

“It seems I require some,” Maul paused, letting a shit-eating grin take over his face. “ACIStance.”

Kenobi walked away, resisting the urge to take out the remaining Tupperware and pile that too on the idiot he lived with.


“I'm leaving.....I really I go......I’m gone....” Maul wheedled, slowly edging himself out the door. “I am exiting the apartment...”

“What? Oh, yeah, bye,” Obi-Wan said distractedly. “The sooner you're gone, the sooner I get actual work done.”

Maul shut the door with a click and a genuine smile on his face.


Kenobi thought it was perfectly hilarious to light Maul’s horns on fire.

“No, you have to blow them out, otherwise your wish won't come true!” Kenobi cackled.


Despite the overwhelming proof, Kenobi still didn't believe that Maul worked period, much less for a prestigious research facility. Maul would roll his eyes when Kenobi voiced his concerns and inform him that he knew four different ways to melt him.


Kenobi didn't think he was quiet, just that Maul never shut up.


“It isn't fucking funny!”

“It's a little funny, spider legs.”

“I'll seperate your legs from your body sans simulation, see how you feel!”


“Are you marrying someone?” Maul asked, furious. “What the fuck?! How long have you been seeing them? Did you cheat on me for the majority of our relationship? You fucking–”


“Don't deny it, Padmé saw you buying rings! She said you probably didn't want me to know but didn't want me to be caught off guard – and thank god for her!”

“Maul, the ring is for you!” Obi-Wan interrupted, exasperated.

Maul stopped short. “Oh.”


Kenobi consistently left 15% for waiters. Maul was more fickle. Middle of the day with decent service meant 15%, middle of the day with bad service meant 10%, late at night near closing time meant anywhere from 50% to 200%.



Kenobi watched in amazement as Maul launched himself across the room at the laptop about to go into sleep mode. There was a moment of fear when Maul’s foot got caught on the (very old, very fragile) couch – but there was a bang and a swear, and it was over.

“It doesn’t matter that much,” he mildly said to the Maul-shaped heap on the floor. “You just move the mouse and the screen lights back up.”


It was always a fight over whose family they would spend holidays with.

“You’re family is vicious, you saw what they did to the turkey, I thought they were going to eat me –”

“Oh, like yours is any better, they’re not even your relatives, just a bunch of asshole yoga mats who all hate me –”

“How dare you –”

“You hypocrite –”

(And so on and so forth.)


Maul had “picked up” Kenobi from a Jedi meeting exactly once. It had been a bad idea, but Kenobi didn’t think of that when he texted Maul midday after his normal ride cancelled on him. The meeting had run over, and Maul had strutted in with his – everything. His tattoos, his language, Kenobi even vaguely remembers him wearing a “Choke Me I’m Sith” T-Shirt he’d been given as a gag gift(pun intended).

The room became silent as they took in Maul. Then the whispers began.



“What is that thing doing here?”

If Maul’s skin had been lighter, he would have flushed. As it was, he spun around and marched out of the room. He didn’t speak to Obi-Wan for the rest of the day.


“What did you do?”

Maul sat on a couch that definitely had not been in the apartment when Obi-Wan had left that morning.

“Thrift store. They were just throwing this stuff out, can you believe it? Something about it being in the store since 1959? I didn’t listen that carefully,” Maul said flippantly. He patted the couch. “Have a seat.”


“We really gravitated together,” Maul said, his voice sultry. “You could say that F one,” he poked Kenobi on the chest with his finger, “equals F two,” he pointed at himself, “equals the gravitational constant times mass one times mass two over the distance between them squared.”

“What the hell,” Kenobi stated plainly.

“It’s Newton’s law of universal gravitation!” Maul protested.

“...Is this your way of trying to convince me you have a job?”

“Oh, fuck you.”


“I think you’d look good. I mean, you’d still be a pretentious asshole, but you’d look good,” Maul reasoned.

“I have enough fabric to worry about with my robe,” Kenobi began. “I don’t need a matching skirt.”

“It’s not a skirt, there’s a specific way kilts are put together –”

“I’m leaving now!”


Maul twiddled his thumbs – a universal sign that he was guilty of something.

Kenobi gave him a suspicious look. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Maul flinched at his instinctive reaction. “Um. Actually, something.”

“I gathered that.”

“I might have scheduled to meet with Senator Amidala....” Maul began.

“How did you –?”

“...on the day of our wedding.”

Obi-Wan let out a breath. “Oh my god.”

Maul had the decency to look somewhat guilty. “I’m going to call her and reschedule, but she’s going to be pissed at me, she kept insisting I had something else that day....oh.”

“What, pray tell, did you schedule that put our wedding out of your mind?” Obi-Wan asked, a million different questions running through his head.

“Free ice cream day at the parlor on Patrick and Jefferson.”


Maul wanted to throw a party when he found out the periodic elements were being named. Kenobi stopped him.

“It’s old news,” he said diplomatically. “So please put down the balloons.”


Kenobi did not enjoy playing any contact sports with Maul. For one, Maul was a semi-professional martial artist. For another, he was an asshole and would use Kenobi as a human barrier no matter what they were playing.


“What’s that?” Kenobi asked, gesturing to the small but menacing pile of discs Maul was compiling.

“Just some classic filmography I’ve collected because we have to cancel Netflix for the the next three months. I’ve got the Bee Movie, Birdemic, Sharknado, all the classics,” Maul said brightly.

Kenobi walked out of the apartment.


The wedding invitations were lovely. They read, “Please join Obi-Wan Kenobi and Khameir Sarin on our happy day” followed by the day and the location. Kenobi was quite pleased.

Maul was fuming.

“I hate my legal name,” he bit out, glaring. “I hate that we’re inviting so many of your Jedi friends. I hate that my exact words regarding the matter were ‘just invite Padmé and I’ll never swear again’ and you still went ahead and disregarded my wishes.”

“You’re being a little melodramatic.”

Maul huffed and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously similar to, “It’s a good thing I love you so much.”


“The Jedi teach that one bad decision leads to worse ones later in life. So, for example, copying on a test in your youth leads to tax fraud,” Kenobi explained.

“That’s bullshit,” Maul snorted. “I committed tax fraud without cheating on a single assessment in school.”




Contrary to what everyone thought, Maul didn't like fighting with Kenobi. On the one hand, all his attention would only be focused on Maul. On the other hand, Maul would leave the apartment and feel crushingly lonely. Neither of these were healthy, Maul knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Kenobi.

(A part of him thought Kenobi wouldn't believe him.)


Kenobi had terrible vision. He was farsighted, and refused to wear glasses. This made things difficult when he lost his contacts during an international flight. The only thing he could recognize up close for a week was Maul.


A little known secret between the two was that Kenobi played the piccolo trombone and Maul played handbells.


“Yes, dear?”

“You may or may not have to come down to the police station and bail me out of jail.”


“There was an incident with a goat and Jar Jar Binks, I didn’t realize he knew what the police were, bail is $10,000 but you’ll get it back because I will show up for my court dates, thanks I love you bye!”


Maul was a little bit (a lot bit) a disaster. Obi-Wan liked to think he helped with Maul’s disaster-prone tendencies, but he probably just made them worse.


“Why are you still dating Anakin?” Maul asked one day. “He sucks. Like, really, truly, sucks. And for once this isn’t a sex joke.”

“He’s very sweet,” Padmé said gently. “He’s not as bad as you make him out to be.”

“Uh, yeah. He is.” Maul rolled his eyes. “He’s a fucking tool.”

“Oh, really?” Padmé asked, mirth in her eyes. “There’s actually someone Anakin’s been wanting you to meet.”


Obi-Wan was a blanket hogger. And a sheet hogger. If there was something in the bed that was fabric and could potentially warm a body, Obi-Wan would hog it. That would leave Maul blanketless and freezing. Obi-Wan denied it every morning, but Maul’ skin would be distinctly chilled.


Neither Maul nor Obi-Wan had a lick of fashion sense in their head. Therefore, Maul would employ Padmé’s help and Obi-Wan would flounder on his own.

“Holy shit,” Maul snickered. “Are you seriously wearing your Jedi robes to the concert?”

“They're nice,” Obi-Wan said defensively. “Besides, you're wearing robes.”

“Black robes. With black clothes underneath,” Maul said, gesturing to them. “None of that brown and white shit. Do you own a suit or something?”

“If you can wear your Sith robes –”

“They’re not.”

“Then I’m going to wear my Jedi robes. Case closed.”

Maul huffed, but dropped the subject.

(He did take a picture and send it to Padmé later, though.)


Maul, for once, was in a rush. He sped about the apartment, muttering about his wallet and his keys and do you think it’s alright if I just throw on my not-Sith robes and sneakers, that’s semi-formal, right?

Obi-Wan just watched, lips half-twitched in a smile.


Obi-Wan made sure to call home regularly when the Order required him to travel. Maul would never admit it, but he got unbearably lonely – and Kenobi would rather be on the giving end of the stream of voicemails.


“I’m getting published,” Obi-Wan said in shock, gripping the letter. “I’m getting published!”

“Great,” Maul grumbled. “I can’t wait to own a hardcover copy of How to Support Your Formerly Sith Friend and Reintroduce Them to Society.”

Kenobi hid his smile, because Maul had admitted that A) he was going to buy the book, and B) they were friends.


Padmé brought them the proper alcohol when they moved in together. She wasn’t able to stay for the party, and thought it would be better for her and Kenobi to be formally introduced later.

“The shock might kill him” she pointed out. “That you know me, that is.”

Maul drank to that.


Excuse me,
You have been entirely too loud at night. I’m sorry to bring it up, but I need to sleep too. Please stop strangling cats (or whatever you are doing to create that much ruckus).
-Neighbor from across the hall

No. Fuck off.
-Your worst nightmare

Public Menace,
No need to be rude. Also, I don’t get nightmares, because YOU WON’T LET ME SLEEP.

Insomniac in denial,
Sounds like a personal problem. Leave me alone.
-Tired of your shit

Enough noise to wake the dead,
At least take your cat strangling somewhere else. Perhaps to a nearby parent’s house, or deaf aunt’s.
-Sleepless in Seattle

Maybe I’m just having really loud sex. I can’t take that anywhere else.
-PhD in common sense

Trojan Horse,
You aren’t. People don’t cry that loudly after sex.

(this part had a combination of swear words that were crossed out and written on top of each other),


“Anakin, you were in the same circles as Maul, right?” Obi-Wan asked, pulling the younger man to the side one day. “Is he ace, or what?”

Anakin shrugged. “Not really anymore. Let me ask.” He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text, much to Kenobi’s confusion. It dinged almost immediately. “Um, she says he’s demi. Whatever that means.”

“Right. I forgot you were so...” Obi-Wan trailed off, making an ambiguous gesture with his hand. “Straight. Thanks, Anakin.”


There was one thing Obi-Wan’s life wasn’t, he thought to himself as he looked from the boa constrictor to the wheelbarrow to Maul climbing in wheelbarrow, and that thing was boring.


Kenobi was colder than ice. Colder than Canada. He was really, really cold.

His decision to wear Maul’s not-Sith robe was perfectly reasonable.


“Oh shit –”

Eyes wide with horror, Kenobi lept towards the rapidly descending Maul. He was caught seconds before he reached the floor.

Kenobi let out a breath. “You need to be more careful!” He scolded.

“Well, excuse me for –” Maul paused when he realised how close they were. “...tripping...”

They were silent for a moment, then Maul shoved Kenobi away – and promptly fell on the floor.


Padmé sent Maul the ugliest picture of him and Kenobi, with the latter sprawled on top of the former. She captioned it, “The mighty lion captures its prey.”

Maul vowed to never become unconscious near Padmé again.


“Syusteerd,” Kenobi mumbled into Maul’s shoulder.

“Eloquent,” he snipped in response.


“You’re not allowed near alcohol ever – did you just sniff me?”


Maul had taken up a mantra of “I hate nature, I hate the sun, I hate mosquitos.” Kenobi snorted. “Are you always this negative?”

“No, I’m the former Sith ray of sunshine,” Maul deadpanned.

“Touchy, aren’t you?” Kenobi said flatly. This weekend was a bad idea.


“Padmé, I don’t like him, and I don’t like whatever thing you’ve come up with,” Maul said bitterly. “He’s an asshole, he’s way too touchy-feely, and he’s a Jedi.”

“You’re an asshole, too,” she replied. “The biggest asshole I know.”


“You’re also a little touch starved,” Padmé said. “He’s good for you.”

“I’m not fucking touch starved.” Maul gave her a pointed look. Padmé shrugged, then gently touched his arm when he wasn’t looking. He flinched.

“Case in point,” she said, somewhat sadly. “Touch isn’t a bad thing. Be open to him.”


Kenobi could sniff out a sale like a bloodhound trailing an injured rabbit. Two for one? Done. Buy one, get one free? Check and mate. Thanks to his expertise, Maul and him would never need to buy napkins again.


“You’re a...a r-really great personnn,” Maul slurred, hanging off of Kenobi’s shoulder. “For a’re not halfff bad....and you’re attroc – attractor – attribute–”

Kenobi blushed. “Let’s get you home,” he mumbled.


Maul sometimes wish he knew what hair felt like on his head. But then he would look at Kenobi after a brisk day, and he was glad he had horns.


“I’m going to steal it.”


Kenobi forcibly dragged Maul out of the store, much to his displeasure.


The youngest person Maul associated with was Anakin, who was about to turn twenty-one. He called Padmé a cougar, to which she responded, “I know you are, but what am I?”

“Kenobi’s two years younger than us!” he shouted as he chased her around. “It’s not the same!”


Kenobi and Maul kept their juice in the empty vodka bottles, mostly for the aesthetic.


“Dance with me!” Maul said gleefully, taking Obi-Wan’s hands.

“You seem happy.” The Jedi raised an eyebrow.

Maul rolled his eyes. “It’s our wedding.” He kissed Obi-Wan’s forehead. “Of course I’m happy.”