[identity profile] raina-at.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] tpm_flashback
Title: A Warm Place
Author: Jane St. Clair
Rating: R
Pairing: Q/O
Warnings: none
Author's e-mail, web site and/or LJ id: janestclair15@hotmail.com
website
[livejournal.com profile] 3jane
Link to story: A Warm Place

Reasons for recommending: I adore Jane St.Clair's work, and this one especially. Her style is beautiful, the meditative calm her stories exude is lovely and I just adore the way she can paint moods and scenes with language. I know I've recced her before, but it's worth reccing her again. I can't even say why I like this story so much, I just love the feel of it. There's a prequel to the story called "A Floating World", but you can read it independently.

Quote from story:
"Mmm." He wasn't awake, not really. There had been no urgency in the touch that roused him, and the explanation would be as valid in the morning, when he could understand it. Now, he was only very tired, and chilled where patches of bare skin brushed the air. To his right, the guards had simply admitted the additional bodies of the couriers, shifting a little to make room and then falling back to sleep. It seemed like such a good idea.

It only took one motion of his arm for Obi-Wan to flip the sleeping-fur back. The invitation was traditional and innocent, and Qui-Gon would almost certainly take the offer for what it was. For a moment, shadowed eyes pinned him where he lay, then the man stood, making a swirl of dark cloth that blocked the glow of the barrel fire. In a handful of simple movements, he removed his boots and swung a knee onto the sleep-ledge, then settled beside his apprentice. Obi-Wan twisted the bedclothes around them both and settled his head against his Master's chest. It wasn't the fetal curl he'd made earlier, but the warmth of a second body was Force-given in the chill.

Qui-Gon's clothes smelled of closed spaces and smoke, and they were very cold. Obi-Wan wondered, vaguely, how long the older man had stood outside to chill himself like that, how much longer he'd crouched over his padawan before he woke. The cloth warmed under his touch almost immediately, but the cold seemed to transfer to the palms of his hands, tingling on the bare skin for a long time while he settled into the angles of the larger body. He was barely half-conscious, and all his instincts were focussed on nestling. Qui-Gon's clothes and Qui-Gon's body making a single, comforting unit in combination with his own.
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