Chapter Text
Soft lips on his neck woke him up, and he let out a small groan. “You’re insatiable,” he murmured, still too tired to open his eyes. His bed partner had wrecked him last night, and then he’d wrecked Obi-Wan again.
It was the most satisfying night Obi-Wan had had, ever.
He got a low chuckle for that, lips turning to teeth as his bed partner nipped at his neck. “Admittedly it’s been a while for me. I can stop if you’d like.” It had been a while for Obi-Wan, too, and he would very much prefer if his bed partner for the night didn’t stop what he was doing.
Instead of saying as such, he cracked an eye open, bringing his hands up to the warm, brown skin of his partner’s chest. He could see goosebumps raise where he trailed his fingers teasingly.
They really should have exchanged names at some point last night, he couldn’t help but think. It would make the morning-after conversation at least a little easier to navigate.
“I think what we’re doing right now is just fine.”
His bed partner smiled at that, sharp and pleased and just a little dangerous. It had been a smile similar to that that had convinced Obi-Wan to let the man take him to bed the night before, and just like it had then, he could feel a pool of heat deep in his gut.
His bed partner kissed him, hot and heavy and dominating.
Obi-Wan groaned into the kiss, hands scrambling to reach his partner’s shoulders. His bed partner rolled a little, legs landing on either side of Obi-Wan’s hips, bearing down on him, kissing Obi-Wan like he—
“Dad?” A voice called from somewhere just outside the room. His bed partner cursed quietly, rolling off of Obi-Wan and grabbing for the sheets that had been kicked down towards their feet, pulling it up and mostly covering Obi-Wan. “Do you think we could go out and—“ the door to the bedroom opened and the words trailed off.
A young boy, perhaps seven or eight was standing there, the warm brown eyes and dark curly hair marking him clearly as his bed partner’s kid.
“Sorry, Boba. I hadn’t realized you were awake.” His bed partner stood, moving from the bed to the closet a few paces away and throwing on a shirt. Obi-Wan sat up slowly, keeping the sheet covering him. The boy was observing him, brow furrowed and eyes sharp and critical.
Obi-Wan felt the strange need to defend himself. He certainly hadn’t been aware that there was a child around, and if his presence were offensive, than it wasn’t his fault he was there.
The boy—Boba, his father had said—turned back to his Dad. “Is he staying for breakfast?”
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reassure the kid he was leaving, but his bed partner spoke first. “Yes, could you get the mix out? We’ll have flatcakes.”
The kid grinned at that—apparently flatcakes enough of a prize that having to share them with a stranger in his dad’s bed was worth it—turning and heading back out of the room.
The sheer casual acceptance behind it all made Obi-Wan wonder if his bed partner’s assertion that it had been a while for him in the sex department was true. It seemed a ridiculous thing to lie about, it wasn’t as though he would hurt Obi-Wan’s feelings if he regularly brought people into his bed.
“I can go,” Obi-Wan said quietly, once the kid was gone. He hadn’t exactly signed up for some sort of family breakfast when he’d gone home with a stranger from the cantina last night.
His bed partner waved his hand in dismissal. “No, stay.” He gave Obi-Wan a sheepish grin. “Boba normally sleeps in a bit longer, or I wouldn’t have tried to start another round.” He threw a shirt at Obi-Wan, one of the man’s own since Obi-Wan’s were… somewhere else. Potentially on the floor of the ship’s hallways, which was even more awkward now that he knew about the kid sharing the space.
He slid on the man’s shirt, accepting the other clothes he was handed until he was dressed in the slightly ill-fitting clothes of his bed partner.
Whose name he still didn’t know.
Somehow the fact that he was about to have a nameless breakfast with him was odder than having nameless sex, but it felt rather too late to be asking.
He followed the man out into the rest of the ship—he didn’t see his clothes in the hallway, which meant that at least the child hadn’t seen them, but also meant he had no clue where his clothes were—Boba was at the small ship kitchen counter, pouring bantha milk into a large bowl of flatcake mix.
His bed partner immediately went to help and Obi-Wan found himself standing there awkwardly. There wasn’t exactly room in the small kitchen, not that he would have been particularly comfortable joining them even if there had been.
His bed partner sent him a small smile before handing him a few plates and forks. “Set the table?”
At least it was something to do. He took the plates and utensils. He found a small bench against the wall, with a set-in table that was currently hooked to the wall. He unhooked it, bringing it down. He took his time setting up the places and was grateful when he turned around to see that there were now a few cups for him to set out.
Thankfully the flatcakes didn’t take long to cook, and there were easy toppings set out. Boba sat down, grabbing a few flatcakes immediately and smearing bantha butter over them.
His bed mate ushered Obi-Wan into the seat next to him.
Obi-Wan took a few flatcakes, taking a quick bite. The sooner he finished eating, the sooner he was out of here. “Delicious.” He was more than capable of managing an awkward meal—it was something of a necessity when acting as a diplomat—but that didn’t mean he wanted to engage in awkward meals during what amounted as his free time.
His bed mate laughed quietly, before leaning over. “I take it you don’t often eat breakfast the next morning with your one night stands?” He murmured in Obi-Wan’s ear.
“Sometimes I do,” Obi-Wan kept his voice just as quiet. “But normally their son isn’t staring at me while I do so.” Because now that Boba had started eating, he was once again giving Obi-Wan a critical, speculative look.
His bed mate laughed again. Underneath the table his bed mate’s hand had found Obi-Wan’s leg. Obi-Wan sent him a sharp look. He had a strict no foreplay in front of children rule.
Well, he hadn’t needed that particular rule before, but he was instituting one now.
His bed mate smirked, but focused back on his food.
“I was hoping I could ask a favor from you?” His bed mate said, after a moment of silence. He looked up from his food meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes seriously.
“A favor,” Obi-Wan repeated.
“I need to run back into town before Boba and I can leave, but I’d rather not leave him alone.”
Obi-Wan frowned. “Are you asking me to babysit?”
Boba made an offended sound at that. “I’m seven.”
“Ah, apologies.” He sent a distracted smile the boy’s way, before focusing back on the father. “You’re asking me, a complete stranger, to watch out for your son, who at seven is absolutely and utterly capable but shouldn’t be left alone quite yet.” But also, Obi-Wan wanted to note, in case it hadn’t been obvious earlier, shouldn’t be left with a complete stranger.
“Yes.” His bed mate smiled, completely charming. “You seem trustworthy enough.” A pause. “And Boba knows where the blasters are and can use a knife.”
“That seems… practical.” Though perhaps not for a seven year old. But then, his bedmate had said he was a bounty hunter, so perhaps that was not much of a surprise that he’d taught his son to protect himself so young.
“I don’t know—“
“Please,” his bedmate said quietly. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t truly necessary.”
Obi-Wan had never been very good at saying no when people asked for help. And he had the vague sort of horror that his bedmate might find some other complete stranger to watch his son. Obi-Wan at least knew that he was trustworthy, who knew what the next complete stranger would be like. “Of course.”
Breakfast finished quickly and his bed mate headed out almost immediately, murmuring something quietly to Boba and then teasingly kissing Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan pushed him away, rolling his eyes before turning back to Boba.
“So… what do you do with your time?”
He’d never been particularly good with kids Boba’s age. He spent a great deal of time helping out in the creche in-between his missions, but those were often toddlers who were more easily amused and in less need of conversation, and he helped with the saber classes for the older kids, but that was a very structured activity, and while Jedi children were still children they were also… not the best standard for him to follow.
There had been Anakin, his brother-padawan, but he and Qui-Gon were… somewhat estranged, so he only rarely saw Anakin, and even then, it’d been years since Anakin had been even close to this young.
Boba let out a long-suffering sigh. “You can help me with my homework.”
Obi-Wan bit his lip to hide a smile at the tone. “I would hate to bother you if you’re doing homework.”
Boba ignored him, grabbing a few datapads and setting them out, pushing one in front of Obi-Wan. “This is to help me with my Basic.” He pushed the next one in front of Obi-Wan. “And this one’s for Mando’a.” Obi-Wan froze.
“You and your father speak Mando’a?”
A bounty hunter. Who spoke Mando’a. That would make them either Haat’ade or Kyr’tsad. Neither of which were particularly fond of Jedi.
“Uh huh.” Boba paused, looking up at him, brows furrowed in surprise. Clearly, Obi-Wan had given something away in his voice. “Do you?”
Obi-Wan considered the question, whether it would safe to answer honestly. Finally, he nodded. “Some.”
Boba beamed. “You can help me with that, then!”
“I suppose I can.”
They worked on Boba’s homework for a little bit, and then Boba decided he wanted to show him all the weapons his father let him use.
If Boba had been a little older, it would have had a somewhat threatening vibe, but instead, Obi-Wan found it charming.
Obi-Wan glanced at his chrono, his bed mate had been gone longer than he’d expected by this point. “Do you want us to make lunch?”
Boba agreed, and they made a quick salad and some unidentified meat patties.
Boba didn’t seem worried yet, that his father hadn’t returned, but Obi-Wan was starting to have a bad feeling.
“Does your father have a comm?” He asked. “I expected he’d be back already.”
Boba nodded, giving him the comm codes. Obi-Wan stepped away before comming the line.
It was picked up after a few moments and he let out a breath of relief. “This is Obi-Wan.” Not that he was sure that his bed mate knew his name, since Obi-Wan didn’t know his. “When are you getting back?”
There was silence on the other end for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” a soft voice—a voice that was not his bed mate’s—but whoever you’re trying to call is currently in the morgue.”
-_-
His bed mate—Jango Fett, he was informed—was dead.
And the last thing he’d done was leave his son with Obi-Wan.
“Any family?”
Boba shook his head. He hadn’t spoken at all since Obi-Wan had been forced to escort him to the morgue to ascertain that the body they had there was really his father’s—it was not something he’d wanted to put a child through, but apparently, a one-time bedmate was not as reliable as a son.
“All right.”
Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”
Somehow.
He sent a message to the Jedi Council, informing them that he would be delayed returning from his mission. He didn’t feel like he could just leave Boba, especially since the last thing Jango had done was entrust the boy to him.
Though, if the man had known exactly who Obi-Wan was, he’d have killed Obi-Wan before leaving Obi-Wan with his son.
Boba looked up at him, eyes wide and full of unshed tears. “Are you going to leave?”
“No.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Not until we find you someone you trust to go to.”
Boba’s jaw clenched at the reminder, and Obi-Wan could see faint tremors in the boy’s hands.
Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do, didn't know how to help protect the boy from this grief, so he pulled the boy into his arms.
Boba was stiff, and Obi-Wan winced at his clear misstep, but when Obi-Wan tried to pull away, the boy caught at the front of Obi-Wan’s—of Jango’s—tunic, keeping him close.
Obi-Wan held him.
-_-
It’d been almost a month when the Jedi Order reached out to him asking for an update. “I’m taking him to Mandalore,” Obi-Wan told them, they’d stayed where they’d been for a short time, Obi-Wan silently hoping that Jango had someone he kept in contact with that would reach out when Jango didn’t get in contact with, but that had turned out to be a futile hope. “That’s where his father is from, I’m hoping to find family.” And if not family, then it was still Mandalore, they were known for their high adoption rates. “Somewhere he feels safe.”
Boba still didn’t talk much, but he tended to get tetchy if Obi-Wan was out of sight for long. “His father entrusted me with his son.”
The Council was compassionate, but the simple truth was that there were orphans everywhere, and the Jedi couldn’t care for them all. Obi-Wan was needed elsewhere and for what might be considered more important matters.
“They want you to leave me?” Boba said quietly from behind him after he’d ended the call. He’d taken the reveal that Obi-Wan was a Jedi surprisingly well, he’d given Obi-Wan the silent treatment for a day, and then after that had seemingly been over it.
“No,” Obi-Wan paused. “Well, yes. I need to get back, soon. But, don’t worry, Boba. I promised I’d help you find a home.”
Boba nodded, satisfied.
Still, it was clear that the news of his delay was making the rounds, because only a few days later Anakin reached out to him. “Is it true you’re leaving the order because you found out you had a kid?”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, making sure Boba wasn’t listening in on this call too. The Jedi rumor mill moved fast, but it wasn’t always accurate. “No. I’m not leaving the Order. And no, I don’t have a kid. Someone left their kid with me before they were killed.” He grimaced, because it sounded so sharp and clinical when he said it that way.
“So you don’t have the Jedi Killer’s kid?”
“The what?”
“The Jedi Killer,” Anakin repeated, a little impatient. At sixteen, Anakin was in full teenage mode, and the way he rolled his eyes at Obi-Wan only emphasized that. “Jango Fett. That’s what Master Qui-Gon called him. And he knows, because his Master was there when Fett killed all those Jedi.”
Obi-Wan rubbed at his forehead. “Yes, I’m with his son.”
Anakin’s eyes lit up. “Did he look dangerous? What do you think killed him?”
Obi-Wan felt his smile stiffen. Jango Fett’s body had been identifiable, but only just barely. Whatever had killed him had shredded him to pieces. “I’ll be back at the temple soon,” he told Anakin, not answering the question. “Maybe we can spar.”
That satisfied Anakin well enough, and he ended the call. Undoubtedly, Anakin’s report would add to the rumor mill, no doubt the rumors would soon say that he and Jango Fett had been in the middle of a torrid love affair or something equally ridiculous and everyone would assume that that was why he was taking care of Boba.
This was why he shouldn’t let charming and clearly dangerous men seduce him into their beds.
He shook his head, standing and stretching. Boba tended to keep to himself in the afternoons, but they’d need dinner soon.
He’d need to figure something out soon, Slave I was Boba’s, but Obi-Wan thought they needed a somewhat more stable base than just living out of the ship.
He bit his lip. Jango Fett had been Mandalorian, which was why he’d decided to take Boba to what might be the closest thing he had to home.
Obi-Wan needed help, though.
He reached for his comm, putting in the comm code he had memorized a long time ago.
-_-
“I don’t like her,” Boba snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at Obi-Wan. There was definitely a tension headache coming on, Obi-Wan thought despairingly, as he met Boba’s glare with a calm look of his own.
“She’s giving us someplace to stay while we find you a home,” Obi-Wan said patiently.
He had to admit that their meeting with Satine had not gone as well as he’d hoped.
Boba had looked like he was a minute away from kicking Satine in the shins the whole time and Satine had clearly picked up on the hostility, though she had pretended not to notice and had kept a warm smile on her face the whole time.
Boba’s glare somehow got even fiercer. “I don’t want to stay here. I don’t like her.”
Seven year olds, Obi-Wan had learned in the past month, were incredibly stubborn, or at least Boba was.
“She’s an old friend,” Obi-Wan said quietly, kneeling so that he and Boba were on the same level. “I spent a year on the run with her, with people trying to kill us, while we did whatever it took to survive. I’m sure your father told you about relationships that were built in fire?”
Boba nodded, reluctant.
“Then you can understand why she’s important to me. Why I trust her, now.”
Boba made a disgusted face but nodded again. “Fine.”
“Thank you, Boba.”
“But you can’t marry her while I’m with you.”
Obi-Wan laughed, Boba was a demanding little imp sometimes. It was an easy enough promise to make. “I promise not to marry her while I’m with you, Boba.”
That seemed to be enough for Boba. “Good. And I’m still not going to like her.”
Obi-Wan wasn’t going to get in an argument about that. They wouldn’t be staying with Satine for long, Obi-Wan was sure they’d find Boba a family soon. “How about tomorrow I show you around Keldabe,” Obi-Wan suggested. It was something of a trip to get from Keldabe from Sundari, but he thought it would cheer Boba up.
And if they were going to find a trace of Jango’s family, then the old, traditional capitol would have more answers than Sundari would.
-_-
“Name’s Zam Wessel. I knew Fett.”
Obi-Wan shook her hand.
He’d retrieved Jango Fett’s comm, and had used it to reach out to the people that had been in Fett’s personal codes. Wessel hadn’t been on that part of the list, but Obi-Wan had been answering any calls that came in, and when Wesell had found out about Fett’s death she’d asked to meet.
Boba had told him a bit about the changeling bounty hunter, though it was colored from the point of view of a seven year old.
Boba watched her with serious eyes. “You were in love with him.”
Obi-Wan sent Boba a sharp look, that hadn’t been something Boba had told him.
Wessel looked uncomfortable at the accusation. “Wouldn’t call it love.”
“Why are you here?” Obi-Wan asked, changing the subject.
Wessel looked almost grateful. “Someone like Fett dies, the whole galaxy will know soon.” She paused. “Or at least every bounty hunter in the galaxy. Plus groups like the Hutt Cartels. And any gang large enough to be on the map.”
“Encouraging,” Obi-Wan muttered. He hadn’t signed up for this.
“I’m willing to take the kid. I knew Fett. I feel like—“
“I don’t want to go with you,” Boba interrupted.
Zam took it fairly well, all considered.
-_-
The Fetts, Obi-Wan learned when he took Boba to Concord Dawn, had all been killed when Jango was young, and no distant family members were showing up out of the ashes of the Fett Farm.
The Mereel clan had a similar story. Jaster had been one of the last of his family, and when he’d died Jango had been alone.
It was not an unusual story for the more traditional Mandalorian clans.
He did, however, find some of the Haat’ade who’d known Jango almost two decades ago.
They welcomed him and Boba warmly into their homes, feeding them, and supplying Obi-Wan with an almost overwhelming amount of information on foundlings.
While they were far more concerned about Boba, Obi-Wan sometimes thought that they saw him more as the foundling than they did Boba.
“I would gladly take him,” Ruussan told him one night. Boba was outside, tucked tight into a large blanket with several of her children as they stargazed.
Obi-Wan had felt a surge of relief. “Boba will—“
“I spoke with him already,” Ruussan interrupted. “He said no.”
“No?” Obi-Wan repeated. “He seems to like you and your family. The clan you’ve built here.”
“He does,” Ruussan agreed. “But that’s the way of the foundling. They find a home and they hold to it.”
“I’m not his home,” Obi-Wan reminded her quietly. “I’m his father’s one-night stand. And if Jango had known I was a Jedi, it’d have never happened.”
A flicker of emotion crossed Ruussan’s face at that. The Haat’ade had a painful recent history with the Jedi. If he weren’t with Boba he wouldn’t be welcomed here at all, but despite that, he was treated with far less aggression than he’d expect normally.
The power of caring for a foundling, he supposed.
“But it did happen, and you make Boba feel safe.”
“He deserves to be with his people,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “I can’t give him that.”
Ruussan looked away, and there was a heavy grief in her eyes. “His father was raising him alone, broken and afraid to come home.”
Obi-Wan flinched, he’d known Jango’s history, from the vague outlines of what Satine had told him and what little the Jedi taught of recent Jedi/Mandalorian history, but in the past few days he’d learned far more. “I’m not his father.”
“But you’re what he has.”
Obi-Wan looked away. He could feel the pressure pushing in on him, almost suffocating him.
“I’ll take him, still,” Ruussan said. “If you won’t keep him. If there’s nowhere else for him.”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “I promised him I’d stay with him until we found somewhere or someone he could call home.” They’d find a place for Boba, he knew they would.
Ruussan rested a hand on his arm. “You might have ended up in this position completely on accident, but you’ve lived up to the calling. Boba is always welcome here, but so are you, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan smiled at her. “Thank you.”
They stayed a few more days.
“You can stay here,” Obi-Wan suggested to Boba quietly on their last day. “They’ll care for you. Teach you everything your father would’ve. They’re your people.”
“No.” Boba’s eyes were lit with a sharp fire; Obi-Wan didn’t suggest it again.
Satine was happy to have them back, though she seemed surprised to see Boba still with him.
“I can likely find him a family here in Sundari,” she suggested. “If the traditional don’t suit him.”
Boba stood up and walked out of the room, glaring at Satine the whole time. Obi-Wan thought he heard Boba muttering insults under his breath that a seven year old shouldn’t even know.
She sighed. “I take it that’s a no.”
“He’s stubborn,” Obi-Wan said, trying to smile. “Much like every Mandalorian I’ve met.” He raised a pointed eyebrow. “Including you.”
Satine laughed. “I think you’re just susceptible to our Mandalorian charm.” She moved closer, taking the seat next to him. “You’re doing a good thing, Obi-Wan.”
“I’m trying.” He rubbed at his eyes. He was exhausted. “I don’t know what to do.”
Satine sighed, leaning against him. “He’ll find somewhere he wants to stay, and…” she sighed. “Obi-Wan, if he doesn’t, you may just have to make the choice for him. You can’t give up your life because one of your one-night stands made poor choices.” She took his hand. “None of this is truly your responsibility.”
“I know.” He did. He’d grown fond of Boba over the past few weeks. But the boy wasn’t his, and Obi-Wan had a life that he needed to get back to. “I’ve managed to pull out a little less than two months from the Jedi Council, but they’ll probably have me on back-to-back missions after this for a while.”
“You’re welcome to continue staying here until then,” Satine reminded him. “It’ll help lessen some of the stress from your temporary parent-hood.”
“Thank you, Satine.” He smiled at her, feeling warm and fond. He had reached out to her completely out of the blue, and she had been there for him, despite the strangeness of the situation. “I don’t know what I’d do—“
“Obi-Wan!” Boba poked his head back in the room, sending an almost venomous look at Satine. “You’re supposed to be helping me!”
Obi-Wan gave Satine an apologetic look. She rolled her eyes but gave him a gentle push to let him go; he stood, turning to Boba. “I thought you were ahead on your homework?”
Boba waited until he’d closed the door behind him, before giving Obi-Wan a stormy look. “You promised you wouldn’t do anything with her!”
“I promised not to marry her,” Obi-Wan pointed out, a little wry.
“She was going to kiss you.”
It likely would have gone that way, Obi-Wan could admit, and he'd have likely welcomed it. “That’s a far cry from marriage.”
Boba just glared at him.
“Don’t worry, Boba,” Obi-Wan assured him. “You’re still my priority.”
At least until he could find Boba a home.
-_-
“Cad Bane.” Obi-Wan knew the bounty hunter by reputation. He wasn’t exactly pleased to have to actually meet him.
The Duros flicked a toothpick at him. “I’ll take the kid.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, tried to count to ten. “No.”
“Shouldn’t you at least ask the kid?”
Obi-Wan turned to Boba. “Do you want to go with him?”
Boba literally stuck his tongue out at the Duros. “No.”
Obi-Wan turned back to the bounty hunter. “No.”
Bane sighed. “Well, rotten luck, I guess. I could have made him great.”
Obi-Wan put an arm around Boba before he could react to that. “I’m sure he’ll be great with or without you.”
-_-
Three months in, two weeks before the Jedi expected him back, salvation arrived.
“My name’s Mij Gilamar.” The man smiled at Boba. “Hello Boba, it’s good to see you again.”
Boba smiled. “Hey, Mij!”
Obi-Wan felt the first real sense of relief at Boba’s happy greeting. The man had reached out to him almost a week ago, saying he was on his way to Mandalore and would like to meet.
They’d set a meeting place for downtown Keldabe in a small kaf shop. There had been a seriousness to Gilamar’s request to meet that had been missing from the others that had asked to meet, and Obi-Wan had quiet hopes that this would be the answer.
“Jango entrusted me as Boba’s guardian, if anything happened to him,” Gilamar explained, handing over a datapad so Obi-Wan could read it. It was an official document showing what Gilamar said as true, and while it could be forged, it passed basic scrutiny. “I was out of contact for a while, but I came as soon as I heard.”
“That’s—“
“No.”
Obi-Wan froze, surprised. He could see the shock on Gilamar’s face as well. “No?” He looked at Boba, feeling his tension ratchet back up. He didn’t go so far as to reach for his lightsaber, but he straightened to a better position. “Is he lying?”
Boba had the potential to be valuable, in the right hands. Enough that someone might lie to get their hands on him.
Boba hesitated. “No, what he’s saying is true.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t hide his bewilderment. “Then why are you saying no?”
“I don’t want to go with him,” Boba said simply. “I want to stay with you.”
“Boba—“
“You said you’d stay with me until I found somewhere I wanted to stay. Somewhere to call home.”
Obi-Wan had said that. He was starting to regret it. He hadn’t expected Boba to simply refuse to call anywhere his new home. “Your father trusted him.”
“He trusted you too!” Boba looked like he might start yelling soon, which was not the sort of attention Obi-Wan wanted to bring to them while they were in a kaf shop.
“For a single morning that just so happened to go wrong,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “That’s very different, Boba. You know he wouldn’t have ever left you with me if he’d known what would happen.”
Boba glared at him, and Obi-Wan could see the beginning of tears in his eyes. “But I trust you.”
Obi-Wan felt like someone had stabbed him and was busy twisting the knife. “Boba—“
“Perhaps I can speak with Boba?” Gilamar suggested quietly.
Obi-Wan sighed. “Of course.” He stood, then paused. “Please don’t run off with him right now. I know his father entrusted him to you, but I’d like to get this fully worked out.”
Gilamar laughed. “I won’t run off.”
“I’d bite him,” Boba muttered under his breath. “I bite hard.”
Obi-Wan believed it.
He moved to a table further down, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. Boba was stubborn, but faced with his father’s wishes, and the presence of a man that Boba clearly knew and trusted, Obi-Wan had to believe that things would work themselves out.
The two spoke for a while. Obi-Wan watched Boba’s face, shifting from stubborn to angry to thoughtful. Finally, Gilamar stood up.
Obi-Wan went to meet him.
“Here’s my comm code if Boba changes his mind.” The man held out a piece of flimsi.
Obi-Wan stared at him. He was just… going along with it? He took the man’s arm and led him a few feet away so Boba wouldn’t overhear them. “I thought you said that Jango entrusted you with the care of Boba?”
“He trusted me to do what’s best for Boba, and Boba seems to believe that’s you.”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, no. I’m not a long-term solution. Boba knows this. He’s just…”
“Stubborn,” Gilamar finished. “And afraid, and homesick, and feeling lost.”
“He needs a home.”
Gilamar gave him a sad smile. “He’s decided he’s found one.” He pushed the flimsi towards Obi-Wan again. “I’ll be in the area for a while. Talk it over with Boba. Let him sleep on it.”
“You’re just leaving him here. With me.” Shock was not an adequate word for the emotion coursing through him, the emotion was far, far closer to utter terror.
Gilamar patted his arm. “Good luck, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan watched him leave, his stomach curdling with dread. Mij Gilamar was supposed to have been the answer, and he was walking away.
He sat across from Boba who was watching him with a clenched jaw. “You promised to stay with me until I found somewhere I wanted to go.”
“What’s wrong with Mij Gilamar? You clearly know him. Your father trusted him.”
“He’s not you.” In any other situation, Obi-Wan thought that steady assertion might make him feel warm and wanted. At the moment, Obi-Wan was trying very hard not to throw up.
“You don’t really know me, Boba.”
He hadn’t signed up for this. The panic was building tight in his chest. He hadn’t signed up for forever.
He was starting to get the sinking feeling that that was what Boba was going to try to demand.
“Let’s get back to Satine’s place.” He stood. He didn’t want to talk about this right now. He remembered what Satine had said, that eventually he might just have to make the decision for Boba.
He couldn’t help but think that the boy would hate him for it.
“You realize I don’t have a regular job,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m a Jedi. I can’t exactly have a child.”
“You’re not a Jedi right now,” Boba said as though it was that easy.
Did Boba realize what he was asking Obi-Wan to give up? How could he? At seven it must seem like switching jobs. How could Boba understand that he was asking Obi-Wan to give up his entire life?
“I don’t have any way to support you, Boba.”
“We can use some of my Dad’s savings until you get something figured out.”
“I’m not a parent.”
“You’re doing fine.”
Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing at his aching temple.
“We’ll talk about this more later.”
He would figure out the right words to explain to Boba why he simply couldn't stay, why Boba needed to find a real home.
-_-
The conversation didn’t go well. Boba wasn’t listening. Just demanding that Obi-Wan give up his life to raise him.
Obi-Wan finally ended the conversation for the night.
He went into his own room, buried his face in his hands, and tried not to scream.
What was he supposed to do?
He knew Ruussan or Mij would both take Boba.
Surely Jango Fett, if he were alive, would prefer that Obi-Wan do exactly that.
But Jango Fett was dead, and he couldn’t shake the serious way Boba looked at him, demanding, expectant, and a little afraid. As though Obi-Wan was the only thing he was clinging onto after he'd lost his world.
Obi-Wan didn’t try to hold it in, he sat on the edge of his bed and cried. He was exhausted, worn out, and he had a seven year old who needed him.
Eventually, he had to stop, to get ready for bed. He reached out, as had become his habit, to check on Boba with the Force.
Except Boba wasn’t in his room.
He darted out, checking on Boba’s room, but he was gone. Sharp panic twisted through him before he let it go, focusing on the moment and what he needed to do. He sent out a tendril in the Force, searching for the now familiar presence.
Above him. Far above him. The roof? How had Boba gotten on the roof?
The thought fled as he realized that there was a presence near the boy. Someone was with Boba.
He opened the window, sliding out. It wasn’t difficult to get himself out on the ledge, and from there he used the Force to move from window ledge to window ledge until he reached the roof.
“Boba?” He called out, hand on his lightsaber as he looked around carefully.
“Over here!” Boba poked his head around one of the banisters that lined the roof. He was sitting on the edge, feet dangling over.
Obi-Wan moved cautiously forward, gaze scouring the roof, but there was no one else there. “Was someone out here with you?”
“I’m alone.”
That, Obi-Wan noted, hadn’t exactly been an answer to his question. But Boba was seven, he didn’t imagine the boy was trying to willfully deceive him. To him, it probably had been what he thought Obi-Wan was asking. Obi-Wan took one other quick glance around the roof, reaching out with the Force. But they did seem to be alone, whatever presence he’d felt long gone. “What are you doing up here? How did you get up here, anyways?”
Boba pointed to a hatch in the middle of the roof.
Right, that made sense.
“What were you doing?” Obi-Wan prodded.
“Thinking.”
Obi-Wan settled near Boba, letting his legs dangle from the edge of the roof. The view out here was certainly nice, though there was enough of a breeze to make it chilly. “About what?”
Boba didn’t answer immediately. “You don’t want me, do you?”
Obi-Wan sighed. “Boba. I’m a one-night stand your father happened to have.”
“But I want you. I don’t want you to leave me.” He could hear a waver in Boba’s voice. “Doesn’t that matter?”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, he felt an ache in his chest. “Of course it does.”
-_-
He left Boba with Gilamar for a week, silently hoping that Boba would realize how much happier he’d be with the Mandalorian than he’d be with Obi-Wan.
In the meantime he spoke with Ruussan, there was a homestead not too far from them that Obi-Wan could take if Boba continued to want to stay with him. He started to put together some sort of resume of what work he could actually do.
He didn’t reach out to the Jedi.
A large part of him still hoped that all of these plans were for nothing.
Boba waved goodbye to Mij Gilamar, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist in a tight hug. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” he asked, quiet but hopeful.
Obi-Wan cupped the back of Boba’s head, bringing him close for a hug.
He would have to make that call to the Jedi Council, after all.
-_-
All he had ever wanted was to be a Jedi.
But fate—and a stubborn, tenacious seven year old—had pulled him onto a different path.
Letting go of his dreams, his whole life hurt, a steady ache that he knew—or at least hoped—would someday fade.
He let himself cry and scream just once; he’d sent Boba out for the afternoon to play with Ruussan’s kids. He let himself be angry, be devastated, be furious at the way his life had been taken apart.
Then he let all those emotions go.
He refused to raise Boba in a home where Obi-Wan was carrying those negative emotions. He refused to let himself be poisoned by anger or resentment.
Boba had chosen him. He had chosen Boba. He wouldn’t live a life of resentment or regret.
He could be happy here. Boba could be happy here.
Obi-Wan would do everything he could to make sure of that.
-_-
Obi-Wan stared at the table that’d been filled with datapads and flimsiplast where Boba had put together his presentation.
He was impressed with the effort Boba had put into it, but he wasn’t letting it sway him. “No.”
Boba clenched his fists, and Obi-Wan didn’t need the Force to feel his anger. “Why can’t we take the bounty?”
Force, he didn’t think he’d ever been like this when he was eight. Obi-Wan thought he was going to lose his hair from how often Boba made him want to pull it out. “Because you’re eight. Why are you even looking at bounties, Boba?”
“Dad would—“
“I’m not Jango, Boba.” It was not the first time they’d had this fight. Sometimes he thought Boba wanted to recreate Obi-Wan in the image of Jango, but he kept a firm line there. Trying to replace someone never worked. If this makeshift family was going to function in any sort of healthy way, then Obi-Wan needed to be him, not a facsimile of Jango Fett. “I’m not a bounty hunter. And while I’m willing to train you so you can make that choice yourself, I’m not taking an eight year old on a hunt.”
“Dad would have let me!”
Obi-Wan was learning to hate those words. He didn’t want to steal a world from Boba that his father would have given him, but he refused to let Boba manipulate him with that. “If you want someone who can be everything he was, then you’re looking in the wrong place.”
Boba’s glare faded, his shoulders slumping. “I just want to see the galaxy.”
Obi-Wan felt some of his tension fade. This was a compromise they could make. “Then for Force’s sake Boba, ask me to take you on vacation!”
-_-
They went on vacation. Obi-Wan had enough contacts in strange places in the galaxy that they had plenty of options.
Obi-Wan put a small jar in the middle of their living room when they got home, putting together a small chart of things Boba could do to earn their next trip, letting Boba put together a list of things Obi-Wan would need to do to earn the trip as well, so that it was a combined effort.
He was making enough money, and Boba still had Slave I, they could manage regular trips.
They started putting together a list of places to go.
Boba demanded an extensive list of planets Obi-Wan had gone to when he’d been a Jedi, seeming to want to piece together Obi-Wan’s past that way.
Obi-Wan let him, his own vacation spot choices were far less sentimental, instead merely places he thought Boba would enjoy.
He didn’t need to repeat his own past. And he didn’t want to try and recreate the past Boba had had with his father. He and Boba could create their own memories.
-_-
“Hands a little closer together,” Obi-Wan murmured, helping Boba shift his grip on the vibrowhip handle. The weapon was turned off, for now at least, and while the whip itself was dangerous, at least it wouldn’t cut into their skin if they messed up. “And now flick a little.”
He hadn’t been fond of Boba’s requests to learn how to use more weapons. But Boba was a Mandalorian, the son of a Bounty Hunter.
It was not the life Obi-Wan would choose for himself—it wasn't the life he would have chosen for Boba—but he understood the importance of keeping to a legacy.
So when possible, he found someone to teach them both. Obi-Wan learned each weapon, and he helped teach Boba. He suspected Boba would always prefer blasters and knives, but it was good to have a secondary weapon, they would keep practicing with each new weapon, and in time he’d let Boba figure out what he was most comfortable with, and they’d go from there.
-_-
“Have you been thinking about armor?”
Obi-Wan gave Ruussan a confused look. “Boba’s still four years away from his verd’goten.” Had he forgotten a step that Boba needed to go through? He didn't think he had, he'd kept all of the information Ruussan had given him all that time ago about foundlings.
Ruussan rolled her eyes. “I meant for you, Obi-Wan.”
He blinked, surprised. “I’m not Mandalorian.”
Ruussan just snorted, giving him a lightly bemused look. “You tell yourself that.”
He shifted uncomfortably. There was still a part of his mind that saw himself as a Jedi, even if that was no longer true. “Duchess Kryze—“
Ruussan raised her hand, cutting him off. “You’re raising Jango Fett’s kid, Obi-Wan. Kryze’s edicts have no sway here.”
Obi-Wan sighed.
Ruussan gave him one of the friendly, sympathetic pats she often gave him. “Go talk to the armourer.”
Obi-Wan promised to think about it. He wasn’t a Jedi anymore. But he wasn’t sure he could call himself a Mandalorian either, even if he was raising Boba to be one.
-_-
“You’re stupid and I hate you!”
“That’s fine,” Obi-Wan said calmly, not letting Boba see how the words hurt, sharp and aching. “But that’s not going to change my position. You can stay here with Ruussan for the week if you don’t want to join me, but Satine has graciously invited us to visit.”
Boba looked like he was going to cry. Or throw something.
Knowing Boba, he’d probably throw something.
“You promised not to marry her.”
Obi-Wan blinked in surprise, the words completely unexpected. He threw his head back, a laugh escaping him. “Force, Boba. I’m not marrying her.”
Satine hadn’t been pleased when he’d first left the Jedi Order, seeing it as him forsaking his duty. But recently she’d come around. He tried not to think about Satine’s quiet suggestions that perhaps now that he wasn’t a Jedi they could see if what they’d once had might still be there.
“Why am I not enough?” Boba demanded, words angry and upset.
“You are, Boba. You’re enough. I love you. But I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I?” He let out a heavy sigh. “Do you want me to be alone, Boba?” he asked quietly. The past two years had been hard on him, though he’d done his best to keep Boba from seeing that. He’d lost his entire support system, his friends, his life. He didn’t regret it, but sometimes he felt like he was drowning. “I wouldn’t want that for you.”
Boba hesitated, lips quivering. “No, that’s not what I want. I want you to be happy too. Just… not with her.”
-_-
“Come on, Boba.” He nudged the boy’s shoulder, but Boba simply pushed at him sleepily. “You need to get to bed.”
“Nuh-uh,” Boba murmured. “I’m not tired.”
Obi-Wan covered his mouth to hold in a laugh. They’d had an active day today, and it was clear that Boba had worn himself out.
He slipped an arm under Boba’s legs and one behind his back, hefting him up. He groaned a little, Boba was almost ten and he was getting heavy.
“Buir,” Boba buried his face in Obi-Wan’s neck with a whine. “I don’t want to go to bed.”
Obi-Wan froze, his heart pounding. Buir. Boba, still half asleep, didn’t seem to realize what he’d said.
He shook it off. Boba was just tired. That was all.
It wouldn't happen again.
-_-
“Can I try your lightsaber, buir?” Obi-Wan still thought there was some sort of irony to Boba using the Mando'a term for parent on him, when of the two parents he’d had, Obi-Wan was the one that was distinctly not Mandalorian.
Or, well, mostly not, admittedly sometimes he wasn't sure. He’d started wearing a few pieces of armor, and the armorer had invited him back for another fitting, the clear expectation in her voice had made it impossible for him to decline.
It’d been almost three years, he still wasn’t sure what was happening, some days.
“I thought you wanted to try staffs next?”
He mostly kept his lightsaber in a box, keeping a simple blaster on his hip instead. It hurt to see his saber, to be reminded of everything he’d let go. Someday he hoped it wouldn’t hurt quite as much.
He wasn’t a Jedi and sometimes he missed it like he would a limb.
Boba perked up, eyes lighting up like it was his birthday. “Did you buy me a staff?”
“Borrowed,” Obi-Wan corrected, a smile tugging at his lips at Boba’s excitement. He missed being a Jedi, but he didn’t regret this, didn't regret Boba. “We’ll see how you like it before I buy you one.”
-_-
The galaxy erupted.
The Chancellor was assassinated. There was an army of clones—and they had the same face as his son—but there was no war for them to fight in. There were talks of secession, but for the moment they were mere background murmurs that might someday grow into something more, but for now were nothing substantial.
Obi-Wan felt the Force shift, something more was about to happen.
And then Jango Fett showed up on his doorstep.
-_-
“Boba’s at school.” The words came out half numb. “How do I know you’re not a clone?” He’d seen the recordings, the holonews, he was well aware that there were thousands of clones of Jango Fett running around.
Jango handed him a file of information.
Obi-Wan glanced through it. None of it seemed conclusive. But then, he wasn’t sure how something like that could be conclusive minus blood tests that Obi-Wan wouldn’t even understand the data from.
“You faked your death.”
“It was necessary,” Jango explained, taking a seat at the table as though he lived there. “There was going to be a war, but then Dooku had a change of heart. He concocted a somewhat elaborate plan. The Sith Lord needed to think I was dead. Otherwise, he would keep too close an eye on me.”
“Sith Lord.”
Jango just waved his hand like that wasn’t important. “Ask Dooku if you want details about that.”
“Right. So you faked your death and abandoned your son for three years.”
The fact that Jango Fett was alive was still settling in, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what was going to happen when he finally worked past the dull numbness.
“Boba knew, he understood.”
Obi-Wan blinked. That was… good. That Jango hadn’t just abandoned his kid. But somehow it also felt worse in a way his mind was trying to avoid thinking about it. “Boba… knew.”
“Yes. I wouldn’t put my son through that trauma if I didn’t have to.” Jango seemed almost defensive. “He understood it was the only way to free the rest of the clones.”
“Right.” Obi-Wan was starting to feel a twist of anger. “So where did the part where you left your kid with a complete stranger come into this plan?”
Jango made a face, a wry little grin, as though this was a joke. “That wasn’t originally the plan. You were only supposed to be here for a while, and then Boba was going to stay with Mij. But Boba liked you, so we changed the plan.”
Those first three months, Obi-Wan remembered. Before Obi-Wan had left the Jedi for real because Boba had needed a home, and for some reason he’d chosen Obi-Wan.
“You… changed the plan,” Obi-Wan repeated, the truth settling in on him. “Because Boba liked me.”
Jango shrugged. “I wanted him to be happy.”
Obi-Wan could relate, all he wanted for Boba was for him to be happy.
But there was something cold and painful spreading through his chest.
For a moment Obi-Wan just stood there, the world distant and hazy around him.
“It worked out all right, in the end,” Jango added.
Obi-Wan’s body moved without his permission, fist swinging before he could even think about why it was a bad idea, as he punched Jango in the face. He stood there, breath uneven from something not exertion. Jango straightened, a small curse slipping from his mouth as he held a hand to his bleeding nose.
“What the kriff was that?”
Obi-Wan didn’t bother answering, didn’t bother to so much as grab anything as he turned and walked out of the home he’d spent the last three years building.
Boba would be happy, he was sure, when he came home to see his actual dad back.