Chapter Text
Working with Boba had always been strange, he was always the galaxy-feared bounty hunter Boba Fett, and Din was always just Mando. No name, just the armor.
It's not like that wasn't what he wanted or anything-- he was The Mandalorian , or at least the Mandalorian of that sector. But when there were two Mandos, well… You can't really be The Mandalorian if there was another one standing right next to you, flaunting the same armor, the same notoriety. Plus some, because having a name allowed Boba to gain galaxy-wide recognition.
Maybe it should've been comforting to Din that no one really thought Boba was actually Mando? But even the idea of gaining comfort from that made Din feel like a total asshole. So he just let himself be overshadowed. It was fine. He didn't want fame anyways. Especially not when his ik’aad was still being sought after by Imps, less persistently as of late, but the danger was still there.
Either way, he and Boba had wound up in the same sector again, and somehow they were being paired together for another job. Din really didn't know why this kept happening, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was one of them who was pairing them up. And it wasn't Din.
“Last I heard you were dead, Fett.” Din started, in lieu of a proper greeting. He didn't really have anything else to say to what he found in that cantina.
It looked like Boba had finished the milkshake he was holding maybe half an hour before Din had arrived, but he still had it. Just so he could be annoying and slurp up the dregs through the straw sticking up into his helmet right when Din got close enough to hear. He also had his boots up on the table, casually, as if this were some small little get-together. His reputation was probably the only thing keeping him from being yelled at by the owner of the cantina.
“I’m not falling in a sarlacc pit every time I’m out of your line of sight, you know. And I don't think anyone's thought I’ve died again. What am I going to have to do to get you to stop saying that every time I see you? I bought an entire milkshake! I don't even like blue milk!”
Din was sure Boba could read his bewilderment right off of him, but he was still grateful for his buy'ce. “...Were you just trying to get me to comment on… all this before I said the thing?”
Boba huffed and put his feet on the floor. “Yes! I'm convinced you don't have any other conversation starters. I'm terrified to think of what is in that bucket of yours.”
Din didn't want to admit that not knowing how to start conversations was exactly why he said the same thing to Boba every time they saw each other. That, and the fact it was funny. “It's probably better than what's up in your buy'ce. Are we going after this bounty or not?”
Din could see Boba's eyes roll by the way his head tilted up slightly. “Really don't understand why they needed both of us for this from the information we're given, so I'm expecting every detail in this puck to be incredibly inaccurate and that many hunters have died attempting to collect the bounty.”
“Alright, normal so far.”
“I don't think any of the information is salvageable, we're running completely off the fob. I feel like that's been increasingly common lately. No respect for the good old days before you could track a bounty through their genetic material.”
“You're making yourself seem old.”
Boba stood up with a shrug. “Just started early. We taking your ship or mine?”
“Mine,” Din answered, maybe a bit too fast. Boba had to know something about his kid, right? But then Din remembered the other reason why he kept on greeting Boba with that same line, because to that day he still heard people talk about Boba's “death” in the sarlacc pit like it was recent gossip instead of something that had happened about five years ago. Word traveled slow across the outer rim.
Boba either didn't notice Din’s eagerness or didn't care. “Alright, the Razor Crest it is then. Did you name it that? Or did it come with the name? It sounds like a toothpaste brand… Not that there's anything wrong with that.”
Din decided not to respond to that.
“Don't worry, I've heard some much worse names for much more important things. We can't all be great with names.”
Din liked to think he could never forget how talkative Boba was, but he did every time. The weird thing was that Boba wasn't talkative for everyone. For all Din knew, he was only talkative around him. Strange, but probably just another rivalry thing. The even weirder part was that Din got a bit more talkative back.
“Is that why your ship is the Slave I? There aren't even any other ships with that model, right? Why's it Slave One?”
“Hey,” Boba warned, “my buir came up with that name.”
“Almost scared to ask about your own name then.” Din muttered. He knew he was hitting a nerve, but come on, Boba had just left himself open for that one.
“...No comment.” Boba responded. And wasn't that something Din would absolutely latch onto. Ammo like that was something precious within this weird rivalry relationship they had. “Oh look! We're here. The Crest Razor, home of the mighty… Mandalorian whose name I definitely do not know.”
Din felt like ramming his head into the nearest wall because holy fuck was Boba just laying it on hard today. The casualness. The little bit that always happened to come out when Din was around, the things you never saw in those weird fan holos on the new ‘net (which Din did not watch to just laugh at the music choice). Rivalry. It was a terrible, terrible thing.
The rivalry was so bad that Din had forgotten to tell Boba about his kid. The Razor Crest opened its hatch and there was the ik’aad, teething on their mythosaur pendant with a smug little look on their face, like they knew something like that was going to happen.
“You Found a baby and you didn't even tell me?!” Boba exclaimed, sounding both very offended and very excited.
Whoops.
Din picked up his ad as the two entered the ship and shrugged. “They weren't really relevant. Plus, I haven't been able to confirm or deny if they have any living, buir-worthy relatives that are missing them.”
Boba hummed, getting that I-grew-up-in-the-middle-of-things tone of voice he got when talking about things the Imps had all but erased from the outer rim. They could censor the holonet, but not the memories of those who lived in sectors deemed important enough to experience it. “I… don't think you'll have much luck with that. I heard you had some trouble with a bounty for Imperials a few months ago, didn't hear many specifics, but I'm assuming that was the kid?”
Din frowned. “How'd you know?”
“Just a hunch.” The way he said it implied it was much more than a hunch, but Din didn't press. Boba never liked talking about his messy past with the Empire. “Do they have a name?”
As much as Din appreciated the subject change, he wasn't really looking forward to Boba's inevitable reaction to the answer to that question. “...No, I want to make sure that they don't already have a name first.”
“Or you just don't want things to turn out like Razor Crest. If you wait too long they'll just name themself, and you'll have to deal with whatever they come up with.”
Din frowned. “That doesn't sound too bad…”
Boba laughed and gestured to the ladder up to the cockpit. Right, Din was flying. “You'd think!”
The kid scrambled up onto Din’s shoulder as he climbed the ladder, blissfully ignorant of the concept of names.
“Boo! Boo!”
Din turned back slightly to see the kid reaching for Boba and chuckled. “Does he look like buir? I'm just right here, silly.”
“I dunno, I think they might just want me to say the gai bal manda,” Boba joked, sitting on the chair usually reserved for bounties and spinning around in it. “They've already got Mando’kar! Out here ready to adopt me."
Din chuckled. “Well, I wouldn't mind if you said it. They clearly like you, and I don't think you'd be any worse of a buir than me.” Co-parenting friends weren't at all uncommon, at least within their culture, but the way Boba paused at that, right in the middle of trying to coax the kid into his arms, suggested that the offer was the last thing he expected.
And then he seemed to choke on his own tongue, coughing for a good thirty seconds before managing to speak again. “Well- that- I… If I did that I guess I'd have to see you a lot more often than just once or twice a year for a job.”
Din felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment. Somehow he'd forgotten… “I guess you would,” he said with a semi-forced chuckle. Ka’ra, what a turn the conversation had taken.
Before Din could even really comprehend that he'd started flying, they made it out into hyperspace. He probably shouldn't've been in the middle of a conversation when taking off, but they'd made it fine, so he got to turn around and see the kid shriek in laughter as Boba started ticking them in small bursts, vocoder switched off as he quietly talked to them.
Din may have regretted suddenly springing the idea of co-parenting the kid with Boba so abruptly like that, but he didn't really regret the sentiment. It didn't really come completely out of nowhere, Boba had expressed once, very meekly but still earnest, that he eventually wanted to become a buir, and seeing him now… He seemed so happy with the kid. The kid seemed to trust Boba immediately, and Din had come to find that somehow they knew exactly who to trust.
“How old are they? If you know?” Boba asked quietly.
Din winced slightly. He didn't like thinking about that. “Fifty. His species ages differently, I guess.”
Boba hummed thoughtfully and looked down at the kid. “Older than everyone older than you, huh? A tough bit of bad luck right there, but it's not the worst lot to get.”
Din didn't know what that meant, but it was directed at the kid, so maybe he wasn't supposed to. “They've hit a bit of a growth spurt, I think. Not anything too huge, but they've definitely grown more in the last few months than you'd expect from the fifty years old thing. From what I've gathered they're still growing at a slower rate than a human, but it's a relief.”
Boba nodded. “I bet it is… So you're human?”
Din huffed, deflecting. “Are you?”
“It's been debated, but yeah,” Boba responded with an almost strained laugh.
That set off alarm bells in Din’s head. Boba was always saying little things like this, worrying little jokes Din had no context to that alluded to a variety of issues he might have. Not that Din could really talk about having issues, he just didn't make almost self deprecating jokes about them in front of people who had zero context.
“I just hope I'm around long enough to support them properly,” Din sighed, continuing to ignore the species question. “Maybe finding their people would be better off in the long run, they'll probably actually live to see the kid grow up.”
“If you give them up, you're just bringing on the inevitable sooner,” Boba said, very confident despite how fast the response came. “They're clearly attached to you. I mean, I've only been here for like fifteen minutes and I can see that. Don't diminish your importance in their life.”
Din digested Boba's words for a couple moments. It was a bit scary to think that the kid already thought of him so highly, but hadn't it not taken him long with his buir? And the loss of his parents was…
“I can't believe I'm getting parenting advice from the galaxy's most infamous bounty hunter.”
Boba dramatically rolled his head to emphasize the eyes rolling under his buy'ce. “Come on Din! If I Found a foundling I'd be the absolute best buir ever and you know it.”
Din froze in panic when he heard his name spoken. Then he realized that he gave Boba his name freely when they'd met because Boba refused to call him Mando. His name wasn't something Din heard outside the covert, but usually he didn't see Mando'ade outside the covert.
“I don't know,” Din responded, pretending his minor freak out never happened, “I think the resident foundling would say otherwise.”
The kid giggled, looking up at Boba. Din wondered if they could tell with their magic what Din had said. It could also just be that they had been giggly throughout the entire conversation and that they were constantly peeking up at the new stranger in the ship.
“You spoil them! That's the only reason why. There would be extreme bias in the results of their diagnosis.”
“You've only been here for fifteen minutes! How do you know I spoil them?”
Boba laughed. “I know you! You wouldn't be able to resist giving them whatever they want, you're soft like that.”
Din frowned slightly, making sure it didn’t reflect in his body language. Did Boba… Did he really know him? Did he even know Boba? He had never exactly been open at any point of his life, but after the purge, it had always been better to just...
Boba was probably just saying things, like he always did, and Din was overthinking.
“Are you ever going to show me what’s actually on the puck?”
“Huh?” Boba looked up, surprised by the sudden change in subject. “Oh, yeah sure,” He threw the puck over. “Like I said, there's nothing too helpful on it. We’re better off just following the fob.”
Din quickly scrolled through the information on the puck. On the surface it looked fine, but Boba was right. A few of the points subtly contradicted themselves, the “last known location” was on the other side of the galaxy from where the fob was leading them, and the holo..?
“This Rodian looks like a 10 year old.”
“Yeah, the Togruta in her 40s listed in the actual puck is a bit more likely. Bet they just added a random holo just so they could pay less.”
“I wonder who this kid is,” Din mused, staring at the holo.
“What, you looking for another foundling?”
Din shut off the holo, ignoring the fact that he'd been wondering about the kid’s quality of life and what had gotten their holo on a bounty hunting puck.
“Shut up, Fett.”
Boba just laughed.