Chapter Text
It was one of the few lively spaces in Tipoca, small spars and vode reading, no Kaminiise or Nat-born trainers lurking. Some of the older batchers had brought in bean bags and actually nice chairs, much to the displeasure of the Kaminiise. Buir had gotten them to allow it though.
Boba was there now, curling into a well-worn, richly green beanbag, his pack leaned against the side and the book in his hands. He knew that really, he shouldn't be looking at it now, but he was curious, and buir always encouraged questions and curiosities.
He opened it, and out popped a little holo of his buir, without armor on. But Boba had just talked to his buir, and there were more interesting things in the book, so he thumbed at the scraps of true paper he saw. The book had lots of different things, and he flipped rapidly through them. There was even a printed photo of a small house! Not just a cockpit or an enclosed apartment, an actual house! Curiosity sated, Boba put the photo back and let the holo play this time.
“Bob’ika,” Buir started, making a face. “If you're watching this, I've likely marched on, or at least you are living life separately now.”
He didn't hear the rest, snapping the booklet shut. Nearby vode looked at him, concerned.
Neral came over from their own beanbag. “Bob’ika, what's wrong?”
Boba didn't answer. “Do you know if Fordo is in class right now?”
“Vod...,” They wore a slightly pitying expression. “No, I don't think so.”
He stood abruptly, not nearly falling off the shifting beanbag. “Thanks, Ner’vod.”
They smiled at the pun, watching as Boba fluffed the bean bag a bit. He grabbed his backpack and walked out to the first batch sparring rooms. There, most of the Alphas and Nulls were sparring, ba’vodu’KalUncle Kal helping with training.
Boba walked across the room, Fordo turning to him mid punch. Boba was aware enough to admit that he was probably pouting.
“One second Maur,” Fordo reached an arm out. “What's up Vod’ika?”
“Buir’s gonna die!” He didn't want to, but he started crying. He shouldn't cry, but he did. And Fordo was holding him, and Fordo had cried and he was still strong, so it was okay for Boba to cry in front of him. He heard sharp inhales from all around, and the familiar stomp-clank of ba’vodu’Kal’s boots.
“What did he say to you, Bob’ika?”
Boba looked up from where his face was pressed into Fordo's beskar (snuck in for all the Alphas by buir). “Well he gave me this thing and-,” he paused to sniffle, “said it was for when I was living on my own, but I wanted to look anyway and-.” He started crying again. Fordo ran a hand up and down his back, soft and repetitive motions.
“If you don't want to say it, you can show it to us?”
“No!” He curled deeper into Fordo's arms. “Then I'll hear it again.”
“I have to know what he said, so I can make you feel better.”
“... fine.” Boba turned, still keeping Fordo's arms around him, heedless of the way the Alpha trooper had to awkwardly crouch to stay. “He said that he’ll probably have marched on by the time I’m seeing the holo-vid.”
From nearby he heard Maur grumble something along the lines of “Prime is a di’kut.”
“Oh, Boba.” Ba’vodu’Kal ruffled Boba’s curls. “That won’t happen for a long time.”
Boba sunk to the floor, Fordo sinking with him. “But he said I might be able to open it soon, which means he’s probably planning on dying soon.”
“Maur’s right, for once in his life,” Seventeen growled. “Di’kutla shebs’palonIdiotic asshole.”
“Are you talking about me or Prime?”
“Prime.”
“Both of you shut up.” Fordo put his chin on Boba’s head. “No, he’s not going to die anytime soon, and he’s certainly not planning on it.”
“Well, he will die eventually. He’s trained us from decanting to prepare for what to do if- Ow!” Seventeen glared at where ba’vodu’Kal smacked him. “I’m just being reasonable.”
“Cuy gar osik’ovidYou're a shithead, Seventeen.”
“It’s all genetic.”
That won him another smack. “Wrong! Boba is unaltered, and he’s an angel.”
“You are the stereotypical Mando’ad and think all kids are perfect bundles of joy, therefore your opinion is biased and discounted.”
“And you hate everything. Shut up.”
The bickering was a comfort. Boba smiled at the jeers tossed Seventeen’s way, and felt calmer, if still upset.
Prudii walked up. “Bob’ika, you want a spar? Working out helps get through emotions.”
Boba looked between him and ba’vodu’Kal. “How are you so mean with such a nice buir.”
“I was just offering,” Prudii complained, a little affronted. “And by the way, Kal’buir is nice only to you, and Ordo’s the only one who’s such an ass.”
Fordo nodded, his chin moving along Boba’s scalp with the motion. “Ordo’s just evil,” he said. “Even compared to Seventeen.”
Boba shuffled out of Fordo’s arms, nodding. “I’ll spar but not one of you,” he said, looking at Prudii.
Maur came over from where he had been skulking. “Can I?”
“Mm… okay. You’re at least better than the Nulls.”
Maur grinned one of those osik epar'enshit-eating grins that all the Alphas seemed to have, and walked to the center of the ring Fordo was still sat in. The accumulated vode cleared out, leaving just Boba and Maur, ba’vodu’Kal with an arm up between them.
“Be civil, you two. And that means no biting, Boba.”
“I’m honorable!”
“I never said you weren’t.” He flicked an eyebrow at where Maur was bouncing from one foot to the other. “You…I’m not so sure about.”
Fordo lobbed a plastoid ball at him. “You shouldn’t imply such things about the Prime. He at least instilled honor in us, even Seventeen, though obviously that didn’t work as well.”
“Fordo…if you can kick Seventeen in the shebs in the next 30 seconds I won’t tell Jango that you dishonored him by attacking the ger'alorreferee (lit. game leader).”
“No need, it’s no dishonor to defend the honor of a vod,” Fordo sniffed. “This is nothing anyways. Boba, kick Maur’s ass.”
“I will! I’ve been practicing.”
Ba’vodu’Kal gave him a dubious look. “Alright…you two ready?”
“’Lek.”
“Elek.”
“To the assembled, any objections?”
“What is this, a Republic sanctioned marriage?”
Another plastoid ball was thrown at Seventeen.
“No, then. Alright verde, begin on 3, 2, 1, ke'slana!go!”
Boba jumped at Maur, going high, because last time he went low and got instantly trapped. The surprise, surprisingly, worked! He managed to lightly kick Maur’s head, as the Alpha had bent to catch where he thought Boba would be.
Maur spun around, that feral grin on his face, to lunge for Boba. Boba jumped again, landing on Maur’s upper torso, and resisted the urge to bite into his neck. He scrambled around out of Maur’s reach, and found himself on the floor after Maur shook him off.
Boba got to his feet quickly though, barely dodging a swing by ducking down, trying to use his smaller size to his advantage. Maur had to extend his arms down to hit him, and Boba grabbed one of those arms, trying to bring Maur to the floor.
Of course, Maur was massive compared to him, so the move didn’t work, and instead Boba was grabbed and held up high, arms flailing.
“I think I win, Bob’ika.”
Boba huffed, trying to kick Maur’s head, but the Alphas were just too big and Boba’s legs were just too short.
“I take it back. You’re worse than the Nulls.”
“Is that concession?”
Then, from the doorway: “I’d hope my ad fights a little more than that.”
“Buir!” Boba tried to twist around to face him, but Maur kept holding him up. With his buir there, Boba felt more inclined to try harder. He let himself go entirely limp, and slipped out of Maur’s grasp not unlike a tooka.
“Hey-!” Maur went to reach for him, but Boba had gotten behind him, and jammed his elbow into the back of Maur’s knee, nearly toppling him.
He did it to the other side, and grinned his own grin when that leg went down. To finalize his victory, he kicked the first knee again, then sat on Maur’s legs.
“Ha! Who wins now?”
Maur fell face first to the floor, and Boba scrambled onto his back. “I suppose you do, Boba,” he sighed dramatically.
Boba whooped, then ran over to his buir as the other vode cheered. “Buir! Did you see that! I took down an Alpha!”
Buir smiled, lifting him up into his arms. “You did, Bob’ika! You did very well, tricking him like that.”
“Kandosii, Boba!” Maur called from where he was on the ground, transforming into the foundation for a pile of vode now that Boba was off of him.
Buir ran a hand through Boba’s hair. “We have to head out, ad.”
“What? But you just got here.” Boba pouted up at him.
“I know, Bob’ika,” he said, still carding through Boba’s curls. “But I have to, and I’m not leaving you this time.”
“It’s only okay because I get to come, you know.”
“I know.”
“Where are we going?”
“Geonosis.”
From his place atop Maur, Seventeen cocked his head. “Duty calls?”
“Always.”
Boba hmphed. “Did that guy leave?”
“Which guy?” Fordo asked, sitting on Maur's back with his legs over Prudii.
Buir looked tired. “I did the mission, the Jetii found Kamino. So,” he looked at Boba, ruffling his hair. “we’re going to Geonosis, because the Jetiise will go there next.”
Boba still had questions, but buir seemed unhappy, so he waited. “Okay. Bye! See you later!”
The whole room waved back at him. “Ret’ Bob’ika.”
Seventeen waited, prodding at Maur, until Prime and Boba had left. “I think he’s getting better.”
“I think he needs to get laid.”
Fordo smacked Prudii.
“What? I’m right.”