Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everything that happened, supposedly, was the Will of the Force.

He was twelve when he first experienced doubt in the mystical power that laced through everything, connecting them, uniting them. He had been twelve when he had thought his Order, the only family he had ever known, had turned their back on him. The Force was turning its back on him. When he was older he would realize being sent to the AgriCorps would not have actually been the end of his life. He was also twelve when he felt real fear for the first time.

Qui-Gon Jinn hadn’t shown up.

No one had for what felt like eons.

Days were filled with the ever-looming presence of death. If he made the wrong move then he would fall into the eternal embrace of the Force.

There was no death, after all, there was only the Force.

He didn’t want to simply cease to exist, not when he hadn't even lived yet.

The pirates that raided the mining platform for a hopefully quick score had taken one look at him trying to protect other slaves, despite being small and near death, and decided they liked his gumption. They did their absolute best to raise him, but Hondo often went into soliloquies about how their little Ben had to be adopted because he was far too refined and well-spoken to be theirs. Any attempt at pointing out that he was technically adopted was always met with rambunctious laughter from the crew.

Hondo knew his real name, the name he called himself in his head, the name that was on file in a Temple that had kicked him out. Hondo was the only one who knew where he actually hailed from and it didn’t matter to the pirate. No, he merely raised Ben as best he could by supplying him with stolen texts and pilfered datapads. They broke away from jobs to explore ruins and museums. His continuing education was unconventional at best and the one time Hondo had somehow managed to enroll him in an academy he had been bored within a week. Rigid structure just didn’t suit him anymore, not when he knew he could fly to the places he wanted to learn about.

Hondo, of course, picked him up from the steps of the school and promptly cleared the academy out of their credits.

The only time he was actually allowed on a job was when the pirates seemed sure it wouldn’t end in bloodshed. They still taught him how to fire a blaster like the best of them and enjoyed trying to help him with his hand to hand combat. He favored training and fighting with a vibroblade, wishing the hilt in his hand was something else, and he was told he seemed to dance when dueling.

Obi-Wan also learned to play sabacc, how to slice, and even learned how to pick a lock with tools. Hondo and other members of the crew seemed to enjoy teaching him things, just as much as they enjoyed ruffling his hair.

He flourished like a flower in rich soil.

Hondo had helped him at sixteen steady his shaky hands as he forced bits of delicate burnished wire up the side of one of his ears. The comforting thrum of a shattered kyber crystal was always present against the left side of his head now and his Captain had never once tried to steal the pieces of jewelry. Four slim bands of silver holding shards of a clear blue stood out against his pale flesh. He never asked where the pirate had gotten the kyber crystal or why it had been broken, he hadn’t really wanted to know the answer. He had just been thrilled to have something to link him to a closed chapter in his life. The crystal sang softly to him and anchored him while the chaos of the pirates swirled around him.

The Force never seemed displeased with him wearing a mark of the Jedi and he carried on as they were simply just earrings.

At nineteen he was given the option of coming along on a more dangerous job, he had declined with a polite smile as Hondo knew he would, and settled down to spend the day teaching himself yet another language. When his family came back from the job he got a painfully quick course in medical treatments. His hands had stayed steady through the whole thing, but he had emptied his stomach until he hurt when the last pirate had been sewn up. Ichor coated his flesh and he was positive he would never wash it clean. His Captain had looked at him, frowned, and patted him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good boy, little Ben. A little too good for us I think. Yes, time for a change of business.”

The next day Hondo dropped him off on a planet he wasn’t overly familiar with and just clapped him on the back. His Captain left him with far more money than he needed and a bag full of supplies, along with what he found out later were presents from the crew, and promised to return. Obi-Wan had merely watched as his second family left him behind. This time it didn’t break his heart since he knew Hondo would honestly come back for him. He had faith. It was an entirely different matter of when the pirate would show up again so he did the only rational thing, he got a life. It started with a job, then a small one-bedroom house, and then he learned as much of the customs as he could of the planet he was on. They really seemed to hate the Jedi, they seemed to enjoy war, and they had the most fascinating food.

Their language was one he picked up in bits and pieces over the next three years. Learning Mando’a was not exactly easy, not when he was positive at least fifty different words meant dagger or stab, but he enjoyed the challenge. One unfortunate incident with the language had left him rather flustered when a twi'lek had asked him if he wanted to play with her dagger with a suggestive look. He was still positive he had mistranslated something in his head, but at the time he had merely smiled politely and quickly walked away.

He was honestly caught off guard when the shopkeeper at the store he worked at just decided to retire one day and handed him the keys. Obi-Wan somehow found himself the new shopkeeper of a store that didn’t seem to do much business with many of the locals but did wonderfully in the export department. No, that wasn’t entirely accurate, he couldn’t always tell if people were local or not. Mandalore was extremely diverse and not all the residents wore armor. That said, people of the galaxy loved some of the rarer things he was able to sell and he was often visited by travelers.

Obi-Wan sold flowers, plants, and the means to keep and cultivate them.

The Force was hilarious by basically making him a farmer of sorts after all.

The stories he got to listen to made up for the mundane life he led. Obi-Wan loved listening to travelers weave tales of their adventures.

His life fell into a routine that he was content with. He worked every day, spent a fair amount of time reading while at work, and exchanged calls with Hondo and the pirates whenever they stopped long enough to get a connection. He missed his family, but judging from the way they always seemed to be in some new complicated situation? He was very content to be stuck hawking flowers. Obi-Wan found he actually rather enjoyed his current life, even if it was not something he had actually ever imagined for himself.

He was sitting behind the counter, datapad in front of him, with a look of mild annoyance on his face when the door chimed to announce someone entering the shop. “A moment,” he called as he finally managed to twist the metal chopstick from his lunch into his hair enough to secure the bun on top of his head. He was in need of a haircut and just hadn't managed to find the time to actually go and visit the barber. Once he was positive his hair wasn’t going to explode free he straightened his shirt. No one would know he was actually what one would consider wealthy from the way he dressed. A faded blue shirt that was missing the top button was paired with faded black pants that vanished into a pair of well-worn leather boots. He’d replace them when they were no longer presentable. He worked with his hands and there was no reason to look like one of those aristocrats he had met in his time traveling with Hondo. No one looked twice at the shopkeeper that sold plants anyway, so he didn’t bother trying to impress.

If people didn’t pay him any mind then he learned all sorts of interesting things. Obi-Wan sold flowers, but he collected information. Some of that information made it back to Hondo and some of it just stayed locked inside his head like a treasure to be protected.

He cast a glance towards the door and paused.

There were actually Mandalorians in his shop.

Obi-Wan smiled politely as they walked further into the shop, though he did faintly wonder why they were in his shop of all places. His clientele tended to be less encased in armor. There were the rare occasions where someone came in to buy flowers for their sweetheart, but he was under the impression that apologies worked better with decorative blades for the warrior race; which was why he wasn’t that surprised that Mandalorians buying flowers didn’t happen often. He let them wander for a bit and finally moved to go see if he could be of any assistance. He made a beeline for the one in the blueish armor and clasped his hands behind his back while he grinned.

"Hello there, something I can help you with?"

A visor turned towards him and then a strange deafening silence followed. He could feel the blood rushing to his face as embarrassment started to set in. Maybe they didn't speak Basic? His Mando'a still needed a little work, but he tried his greeting again in the language he was less comfortable with. A silent pray was sent to the Force that he hadn't actually managed to say something insulting.

The sound that finally left the Mandalorian was akin to a goose. A loud, startling honk like burst of violent noise. Obi-Wan felt his smile waver as he tried to dig through his memory to see if he knew whatever language that sound came from. The laughter from one aisle over was not helping him think. What species communicated like that? The armor suggested a man similar to him, but he couldn’t be quite positive.

“Ah, I see?”

Silence followed before a faint sound of distress escaped the person.

Oh, dear.

The laughter grew louder. His sides actually ached in sympathy from how loud and deep the laughter was.

Chapter Text

Things were tense on Mandalore and it wasn’t just because he wanted to send the Kryze brat away. She had illusions of grandeur and had decided for some unknown reason that her best bet to further an agenda was to align herself with him. Align was a loose description since she argued with him at every turn and scoffed at their culture. Jango wanted to put a blaster to her forehead most days, but Myles reminded him they were trying to hold the fragile alliance in place.

Death Watch was growing under his nose and it rubbed at him like ill-fitting armor.

He needed to play nice with the Kryze clan in order to have a steady flow of food and medical supplies.

Satine’s current brilliant idea was to hold a state dinner, invite various politicians, and share karking drinks. Donations would supposedly be the result of this dinner. He thought it was stupid if he was being honest. That wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was she wanted their outfits to match and had started screaming like a harpy when he had pointed out that he would just wear his beskar’gam.

They’d been avoiding her since this morning.

His ears couldn’t handle more of her shrill tantrum.

They didn’t need donations or dinners, they needed a battle plan to strike at the heart of Death Watch.

“That one,” he ordered over the comms and noticed the way Myles’ visor turned towards him slightly. Then the man was doing a double take as he took in the hand-printed sign. He could already feel the judgment from his partner as he read each delicate mark on the pale green board of wood. The establishment was definitely not one they had ever visited before and with good reason.

“That...is a flower shop,” amusement laced the words. Jango knew he was going to hear about this decision later over latemeal. When they had sworn the vows to each other he hadn’t known just how much delight Myles would take in harassing him for the rest of their days. Their relationship wasn’t exactly romantic, which he was fine with, but it gave them both comfort. They came home to each other and they knew they’d always have each other’s back.

He loved Myles in his own way and he knew Myles loved him in return.

Satine was not amused at their relationship and Myles had stated it was because she wanted in Jango’s bed. That thought made him feel sick. She would have all sorts of power to shape Mandalore towards her ideals if she managed to actually sink her claws into him in that manner. He’d kill her first before letting her dismantle what it was to be a Mandalorian.

“And she won’t think to look for me there. She is smart and is going to assume I would hide with the Armorer or any of the many weapon shops-”

“Or cantinas or gaming dens,” Myles teased. Jango leaned over and knocked the side of his buy’ce against Myles’. “Fine, we can go hide in the flower shop while the mean Satine hunts for you. Shame, I know how much you enjoy watching the dancers-” He punched his partner hard in the shoulder. Armored fingers hit the pauldron and Myles merely laughed loudly. The laughter died off slightly as they entered the shop. A chiming sound announced their presence and he couldn’t quite help wincing. They wouldn’t be able to hide from whoever was minding the shop, not that he had really thought they could.

They just needed to hide here for a bit, it would be fine.

“A moment,” a musical voice called.

Myles quickly motioned he was going to explore, basically leaving Jango to deal with whatever fallout hiding in this particular shop would bring. Bastard. Why had he decided he loved that man again? He shook his head with mildly annoyed affection before moving to actually study what was inside the shop. Flora, obviously. His eyes widened as he stared at a small pepper plant. There was so much color in this place and the filtration system on his helmet was blocking out most of the scents and he thought that was a shame. He was just about to reach out to touch an interesting leaf when he found himself being approached by what he could only fathom out to be an ethereal creature. Red hair was paired with eyes that reminded him of the waters of Naboo. His fingers itched to yank the metallic chopsticks free and watch the tendrils of hair fall down around those shoulders. His gaze darted to the earrings than to the exposed throat. Oh, a button was missing so some chest was showing and he wondered if those freckles traveled further down.

How had he never entered this store before?

“Isn’t he pretty?” Myles said over their internal comms. “Guess you picked a good place to hide! I’m enjoying the show.” The jerk was probably spying through the shelves.

“Hello there, something I can help you with?” That voice did something to him. His beskar’gam suddenly felt overly hot and he had to resist the urge to remove some of it in order to cool down.

“Come on, cyare, what can he help you with?” Myles said in his ear with vicious glee. Jango didn’t know how to respond. The longer he stared the more he wanted to bundle the shopkeeper up in a cloak and protect him from the galaxy. Then the siren in front of him went and spoke in heavily accented Mando’a. There was this lilt that coiled around the words, giving them an inflection he had never heard before. He could hear the uncertainty and somehow knew that the person in front of him was still learning how to properly speak the language. Kark, he wanted to listen to the person speak in that tongue for hours. He opened his mouth to reply when Myles picked the exact right moment to break his brain.

“I bet you could get him to scream such interesting things in Mando’a in your bed, Mand’alor.”

His mind blanked before that visual slammed into him like a rancor.

Jango had been about to say he was fine, that he didn’t need help, and had his external comm open to do so, but thanks to the ill-timed suggestion from his soon to be injured partner he let out a horrible noise. The mental image had been far too strong and he hated how he could picture red spread across his pillow. Myles, naturally, let his laughter be heard throughout the shop while the shopkeeper just looked confused. Oh, oh this was bad. He was a leader, a person that got the job done, and he had just karked up this whole interaction by letting loose a sound that could only be compared to one of those vicious flying birds.

“Ah, I see?”

He forgot he still had his external comm on and didn’t stop himself in time from letting out a rather distressed sound. He only realized what he had done when Myles started laughing harder.

“A moment,” the man in front of him said with an uncertain smile. “I think-” Jango could only watch as he spun around and walked away quickly. His gaze, he wasn’t ashamed to admit, followed the sway of those hips until the man vanished into what he assumed was a back room. He would welcome Satine showing up to yell at him right now because it would distract him from the sheer embarrassment eating him up inside. Myles finally managed to gather some semblance of control, laughter no longer filling the space, and moved to join him.

“That was perfect,” the voice came over the internal comms. “I just… this is my new favorite day.”

“I am going to stab you later.”

“I think you'd rather stab the shopkeeper if you know what I mean.”

Jango groaned and wondered if they could just leave. The urge to run from this battle was growing rapidly and he actually took a step back to flee, but Myles shifted just enough to block him. He turned to glare at him, knowing full well the full effect was lost since their faces were covered.

“Why do I put up with you?” he snarled. His emotions fueled his words like grease tossed into a campfire. Myles merely snorted. This was not the first nor would it be the last time they clashed like this.

“Okay,” the polite voice called out, and then Myles was whistling over the comms. The man was back with a small droid in his hands. He was walking while looking down at the thing, fingers moving quickly as the creation of wires and circuitry powered up with faint hiccup like sounds.

Oh no.

This couldn’t be good.

“This just keeps getting better!” He was thankful his partner was using their private channel because he wasn’t sure he could handle the shopkeeper hearing what they were saying. Myles rested a hand on his shoulder a moment before he tried to take another step backward. His partner knew him far too well and he was trapped. There was no running away from whatever was about to happen. Jango rather felt like he was facing a firing squad while Myles sat to the side just watching with blatant amusement.

Myles was the worst.

The man finally looked up, smile flashing dangerously, and held the droid up. “He is a tad old, but he should be able to translate-”

Suddenly Myles was leaning against him and he was having to shift his stance to bear the extra weight. Laughter cracked hard through the space cutting off any more words from the gorgeous stranger. He elbowed his partner hard in the side, knowing most of the damage was buffered by their armor. The shopkeeper’s smile faltered and those pale cheeks flushed again. Freckles stood out against the red and Jango tried to focus. Now was not the time to have those types of thoughts.

“I, uh,” he croaked out. “I speak Basic.”

Silence.

The eyes darkened with some unknown emotion and the smile vanished fully.

Kark. This day just kept getting worse.

“Oh. I just- my apologies,” the words tumbled quickly out of those lips and Jango noted that Myles had stopped laughing. “I feel a tad foolish now.”

“Don’t,” Myles said loudly. “This was amazing! Please ignore my di’kut of a partner! I’m Myles, this is Jango.”

“...Ben. Did you need something? I don’t often get Mandalorians in my shop, at least not your type.” Those eyes were taking everything in and he thought he noticed some knowing look. Did Ben know who they were? Was he wondering why the Mand’alor was in his shop?

Was Ben wondering why the Mand’alor had imitated a goose?

Chapter Text

There was something to be said about the fact that he could still get under Jango's skin like this. He knew every single button to push and he also knew when to back down. He didn't think his di'kut would ever hurt him, not when they loved each other in their unique way, but he didn't like having to deal with the retaliation when he went too far. The last time he had been forced to distract Satine by taking her to some musical show. She had treated him like he was just beneath her station and that she was somehow doing him the favor. Myles hoped she tripped on the train of one of her elaborate gowns and broke something, preferably her face.

He was technically riduur to the Mand'alor which meant he held more rank than she ever would. Yet, somehow she had still managed to spring a state dinner on them this morning. Satine had clearly been planning it for weeks and made sure Jango couldn't say no by telling him at the last minute.

Myles begrudgingly admired the tact for what it was, but he still didn't like her.

As it currently stood, rank or no rank, he could see himself being forced to play nice at the fancy dinner as payback, but he couldn't quite stop himself from delivering one perfectly timed remark. The shopkeeper was cute and Jango was clearly smitten. He never thought he'd see the day when his partner actually fell shebs over buy'ce for someone.

The memory of Jango blaring aggressively like one of those rabid feathered bastards would live in his mind forever. Jango the Goose, worst wooer in the Galaxy. He was never going to let the man forget that amazing moment of awkwardness. Oh, he was definitely doomed to sleep on the couch tonight after the dinner, but the crime had been well worth the impending punishment.

Now he stood, clinging to his Mand'alor as he tried to remember how to get actual air into his straining lungs. His sides hurt, they actually hurt from how much he was laughing.

He noticed at once when the polite friendliness vanished from the shopkeeper's attractive face. Kriff, he had maybe gone a little too far. Now he felt a tad bad, he hadn't meant to hurt any feelings while making Jango uncomfortable. “Don’t,” Myles said loudly in an attempt to stop any further damage. He knew within a second he hit way off the mark, but he couldn't stop the words from leaving him. "This was amazing! Please ignore my di’kut of a partner! I’m Myles, this is Jango.”

“...Ben. Did you need something? I don’t often get Mandalorians in my shop, at least not your type.” Slim fingers tightened around the small droid and Myles got the distinct impression if he said just the wrong thing he would get said droid hurled at his head. It was the way the stranger held themselves, as if they actually knew how to inflict damage. That, Myles mused, didn't seem likely. Ben clearly preferred flowers and pretty jewelry.

"We are-"

"Hiding," he supplied and ignored how Jango tensed at being interrupted. "We don't want to go to a dinner party later and decided to make the strategic call to hide where our enemies won't look for us."

Ben pursed his lips before a sort of disturbing serene mask fell over his features. What had once been a slightly hurt and confused expression was now just blank, rather like one of those faceless dolls Satine collected. Creepy fuckers. Though, that was one impressive sabacc face, he had to admit. Myles never wanted to play against the florist. He knew he'd lose all of his credits.

"I don't appreciate loiterers, so if you are to use my shop then I am going to use you." Myles had to bite his lower lip hard to stop himself from saying anything overly suggestive. "When exactly is this dinner?"

Myles nudged Jango hard and grinned at the audible throat clearing. "In three hours," the other finally said a bit haltingly. Jango couldn't even summon up his normal ability to talk properly. He was so gone for the red haired shopkeeper. Jaster had to be laughing himself into a second death at this point. Jango Fett was known to be a vicious fighter, but here he stood acting meek in front of a pretty plant tender!

Ben gave them both a clear once over before frowning deeply. "I suppose I can work with that, come along." At this point Myles hoped the man knew who they were and just didn't care, but there was a chance he didn't know. They were clearly not local judging by the accent. The lack of any armor showed they didn't follow the way. Plus, that baby face didn't seem hardened by war yet- He nearly toppled over, caught in his musings, when Jango actually moved to follow Ben.

It seemed they were fully committed to this then, Myles could only shake his head with fond amusement as he followed after Jango.

That was how he found himself heaving bags of something that weighed more than he thought possible out of a crate and onto a shelving unit in the workshop of the store. Ben sat like a little monarch on a stool, one leg crossed over the other, and simply read a datapad. He held himself in such a way that it wasn't hard to visualize him sitting on a throne. Myles couldn't help noticing each time the shopkeeper paused to take a sip of some drink from a delicate cup, even Jango noticed, but Ben didn't say a word. He simply kept reading. He had to have noticed their visors turning towards him so blatantly which meant he was making a point of ignoring them. That, Myles admitted, was well played. They were doing the heavy lifting while he sat all pretty!

Satine wished she had that sort of presence.

"I hate you," Jango's voice filled his ears suddenly and he snorted, hard. If his partner honestly didn't want to be here then he would have declared who he was, but instead he had gone along with this charade.

"No, you don't."

"I made a fool of myself!"

Myles snickered before he could stop himself. The man really had made a fool of himself. Jango swung a bag around a tad widely and hit him in the arm with the corner. He had done that on purpose, clearly.

"If you damage my wares," Ben said without even looking up from his datapad. "You'll miss your dinner because I will make you clean up each and every single grain of soil with chopsticks." The voice was a mixture of mirth with a heavy dose of durasteel. He was annoyed.

Okay, Myles could definitely see the attraction now.

He couldn't help trying to figure out how to get Jango into Ben's good graces while he kept working. It was an entertaining way to pass the time.

The history text he was reading just sort of danced in front of his eyes and he resisted the urge to swear. He couldn't focus. Blast it all. The words no longer made sense and he knew he should give up reading before he gave himself a stress headache.

Kyber thrummed comfortingly against his ear, but Obi-Wan felt far from calm. He felt off balance. The whole incident was baffling, to say the least. He wasn't an idiot, he knew what the armor of this planet's leaders looked like and he knew their names. That only made this that much more confusing. Why were they playing along after making him the fool earlier?

What was the end game?

He had lived here long enough to know this was far from the norm. He'd have to tell Hondo this story next time they conversed, but before then he needed to survive whatever was going on.

He began to chew on the corner of his lip as he tried to figure things out in his head. He had no rank here and he highly doubted they knew anything about his wealth. They also, most likely, didn't know he was a good source of information or that he was technically a pirate. They had, most likely, actually just come in here to hide. Hide from who though? It didn't seem a matter of life or death, though he had crashed an elegant dinner or two in his time and had to admit he found them rather loathsome. He could understand hiding if it meant one didn't have to make dreadfully boring small talk over dry fish cakes. He fought back a shudder at the mere thought. Politicians, the kriffing worst.

Speaking of, if they were merely hiding from their duties then why had they picked this particular place?

No, he knew the answer to that. If he was looking for the leaders of a group of people keen on weapons then the logical first place to look was a weapon shop. They were smart, albeit not exactly elegant with their words. They had picked the last place one would think to look.

No one on Mandalore was dumb enough to mimic that armor so all signs really did point to the Mand'alor moving bags of protein enriched soil.

Strange.

Also, he had noticed they kept staring. He hadn't been sure at first, but their visors inclined ever so slightly towards him whenever he took a sip of tea.

This whole day was confusing.

He finally clicked his datapad off and let it rest against his lap as he watched them move the last bag. Ah, perfect timing.

"You have thirty minutes before your dinner," he couldn't hide the smug smile that appeared on his face as they both started.

"Kark," Jango blurted out. "She's going to complain we're dirty!"

"Eh, we've come home looking worse," Myles said with an indifferent shrug.

Who was this she they spoke of?

"If you'd like," Obi-Wan said pleasantly with a forced smile. "I'd be happy to hose you down."

Myles snorted with laughter.

Jango froze.

Obi-Wan merely began to carefully roll his sleeves up to his elbows while waiting for an answer to his somewhat serious offer. His fingers stilled on the second cuff when Jango let out a much softer goose like sound. He blinked in surprise before casting a questioning look towards Myles. "Does he do this often?"

Myles doubled over instantly while laughing, a hand on Jango's shoulder to keep him upright.

Yes, this whole day certainly was confusing.

Obi-Wan could only frown in confusion.

Chapter Text

Three mundane days passed and Obi-Wan finally felt like he could relax. Clearly, the Mand'alor wasn't coming back, which meant he didn't need to worry about further confounding interactions. He could finally stop waiting for the chime above the door to sound. It seemed merely having that thought was to blame for the harbinger of doom above his door going off yet again.

How annoying.

His gaze jerked up from his datapad and he felt mild annoyance at recognizing Myles' armor instantly. A well-dressed woman entered the shop with the air of someone who was used to people looking at her. His eyes were drawn to her, but not for the reasons she probably hoped for, no. Her clothing was quality material, the type Hondo would have enjoyed destroying. His Captain would have stolen every single one of those jewels. She was dripping with a pirate's fortune, which was impressively idiotic. His lips pursed before he turned his gaze back towards his datapad.

She wasn’t worth his time.

He couldn’t appreciate someone flaunting such wealth when people were struggling not that far away. He, however, now had a very educated guess about who had forced Jango and Myles to a fancy dinner.

A delicate throat clearing had him biting down a smirk. She was not pleased with his lack of greeting and had clearly come to pull his attention to her. He glanced up through his lashes to catch Myles giving some sort of hand motion behind the elegant woman.

Now, what was that about?

"I require bouquets for an important event," the exaggerated cultured voice grated at his ears. She was putting on airs. Obi-Wan made a show of not looking up from the story he was reading as he decided he was very much over the whole day.

"How unfortunate for you," he remarked rather like he would on the never-changing weather.

"I beg your pardon," her voice rose slightly, an actual accent slipping through in her mild annoyance. She was clearly not used to someone brushing her off. "Are you aware of who I am?" He finally looked up from his datapad and gave her a very indifferent look. Myles' shoulders were shaking ever so faintly with what he imagined was mirth. Obi-Wan placed an elbow on the counter, horrible manners on purpose, and rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

Hondo would have been so proud.

Myles was setting this woman up for some reason. That was the logical explanation since the Mandalorian was well aware of what was sold in this shop. The question, now, was why?

What was Myles hoping to gain from this encounter?

"Are you aware of where you are? Do I look like I am in the business of selling herbal corpses in a pretty vase?" Her cheeks flushed with anger and he couldn't find it in him to care much. "I sell the means to grow plants, I don't slaughter them. Also, I don't exactly care who you are, my dear."

"I was told you sell flowers, what is the difference?"

His jaw ticked hard with annoyance before he forced a friendly smile at her that did not reach his eyes. “The difference is my sign does not read florist. I do not arrange things prettily.”

“Well, I am certain I can pay you enough to do so,” she squared her shoulders and raised her chin just a fraction. Oh, the poor dear, she thought she could actually win this argument. Obi-Wan shifted his gaze slightly to Myles again and cursed the helmet. He couldn’t get a read on the man.

What was the game here?

“If you are so flush with credits,” he drawled out as he pinned her with his gaze again. “Might I suggest you donate them to the war efforts? I am sure our Mand’alor would appreciate the means to barter for more supplies over having ever so delightful bundles of dying flowers everywhere.” An actual snort of laughter escaped Myles.

“How-”

“Are we not at war?" he interrupted her chance at refuting his remark.

Myles shifted, crossing his arms over his chest, and Obi-Wan rather thought all of the man’s focus was on him now.

“We are, but I hardly see you fighting,” she argued. “Where is your armor, Mandalorian?” He noticed a clear lack of proper wording instantly. She had stuck with Basic and ignored the Mando’a. Myles tensed slightly behind her, clearly not pleased with the disrespect.

“I was not aware one could only help out by donning armor and raising a weapon.” He tapped his fingers against his cheek slowly as he watched her. Her eyes seemed to brighten at that remark, probably taking victory in his use of the Basic word as well. That was not exactly the reaction he had been expecting and he waited to see what would leave her stained lips. The shade was not doing her any favors, he mused, it washed her complexion out even more.

“A pacifist! Then you must support the ideal that we must strive harder for peace and lay down all of our weapons,” she moved closer and he felt a wave of unsettling zeal from her. He hardly classified himself as a pacifist, but that wasn’t the issue. No, her sheer focus on laying down all weapons bothered him slightly. That was a quick way to get massacred or become easy targets for pirates. Not all pirates were like Hondo, most were more bloodthirsty actually. She was aiming for an Empire to become enslaved without realizing she was doing so.

“What shall we replace them with, flowers?” Myles actually let more laughter escape him so they both could hear. The woman didn’t seem to notice as she nodded. It seemed that only one person in this shop did not realize he was not serious in this conversation and she was growing far too animated.

“Yes, if we must. We should focus more on art and the like! Our history of violence should be ignored, forgotten. We must cultivate a brand new Mandalore-”

His brows knit together slightly as he studied her. Ah, Satine Kryze. That was who was standing in his shop. That was who Myles had brought to fall into an unknown trap. “A history destroyed is going to be repeated whether you like it or not. I won’t sell you flowers.” The conversation was making his head hurt.

“You are going to ruin the party.”

“And you are ruining the war effort.” he cast his gaze towards Myles again and frowned. “My dear, now isn’t the time for tea parties when you should be using all of your resources to smoke out Death Watch. The show you put on is not reaping you the favor you think it does.” Myles inclined his head ever so slightly, visor catching the light as he did so. Agreement.

“How dare you! I could have you shuttered-” A rather rude sound escaped him and Satine looked offended.

“I would worry more about how you just openly said you want to destroy what it is to be a Mandalorian in front of the riduur of the Mand’alor.” He flashed her a smile full of venom. Her eyes widened and then she finally glanced over her shoulder at her chaperone. What little color she had began to seep away from her face before she sniffed loudly.

She had forgotten her company.

Politicians, so unobservant.

“I shall take my business elsewhere,” she gathered up her skirts and for all intents and purposes stormed out of the shop. He raised an eyebrow quizzically at the man that stayed behind. Obi-Wan realized angering such a powerful woman could end poorly for him, but he didn’t exactly care. He could simply pack up, let Hondo know he was relocating, and start his life over on a different planet. He could even just become a pirate again, it really didn’t matter to him.

“Did you get whatever you wanted from that interaction?” he asked softly.

“Oh, I got far more than I expected,” Myles informed him before shifting to grip the edges of his helmet. Obi-Wan could only watch with mild surprise as an actual face appeared before his eyes. The helmet was carefully set down on the counter between them before he was being gifted with an attractive smirk. The Pantoran under the shell of armor wasn’t what he had been expecting and he had to take a moment to study the new discovery. The cerulean skin was paired with short amethyst hair that had several highlights of lavender mixed in teasingly. He was hardly surprised that the golden eyes stood out so strikingly with that combination of color. He was reminded of wheat against a dusk sky and shoved that idea aside at once. The markings on Myles’ face clearly told the tale of what Clan he belonged to and Obi-Wan tried to sort them out in his head. He was, unfortunately, not well educated on Pantorans or the Mandalorian ones. “Like the view?”

His cheeks flushed instantly. Kriff, he hadn’t meant to stare that long. He hummed faintly in annoyance before shrugging. The smirk only grew on the other’s face. Myles knew he had managed to gain a reaction it seemed.

“Why did you bring her to the metaphorical gallows?”

“I had a feeling you knew who we were the other day and I wanted to see if I was correct,” Myles admitted easily enough. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and waited for the rest of the answer. “And I wanted to see how you’d react to her.”

“She is annoying,” he said bluntly. “And dangerous to your Mand’alor.”

“Our Mand’alor,” Myles corrected instantly with a grin full of sparkling teeth. He couldn’t help snorting at the man and shook his head. Jango was not his anything, thank you very much. He had only made that remark earlier to anger Satine. He finally shifted so he could cross his arms over his chest while tilting his head to the side slightly. He studied the man in front of him once more. Why was he in his shop again?

“I am not the one married to a man that impersonates a flying space menace when flustered.”

Myles actually threw his head back before a full-body wracking laugh escaped him. His cheeks turned a fascinating shade of indigo in the process and Obi-Wan could only blink in surprise. He shifted on his seat again while he waited for the Mandalorian to calm down. Joy seemed to try to caress him in the Force, which he did his best to ignore.

“Jango wants you to join us for dinner,” Myles finally managed to say once he reigned in his humor.

“My thanks, but no.”

Chapter Text

An offer for dinner came every single day for the next seven days. Obi-Wan was becoming less and less amused by this development. He didn't like having people in power interested in him, it made him feel like he was about to find his face on a wanted bulletin.

Ben Ohnaka.
Wanted for piracy.

He stared down at the delicate note of flimsi and had to admit Jango and Myles were fascinatingly stubborn. Now, the question was, how was he going to get this to stop? He was yanked from his musing when his comm went off. Without really looking he accepted the call. "Ohnaka." The image of his Captain appeared instantly and he quickly hit the button under the counter. The doors locked and the sign turned off. He was closed for the moment.

"Captain, this is unexpected," he said while smiling softly. Unexpected, but welcome.

"Ben!" Hondo burst into a giant smile and shoved something out of the frame. "Good news. We need to hide with you for a bit." Obi-Wan snorted, of course Hondo would think having to hide was good news.

"And what did you do this time?"

"I'm wounded! Do you hear this?" Hondo turned around and motioned wildly, clearly letting the crew know just how cruel his adopted son was. "Thinks it is my fault!" It was nice to see some things never changed. When the Captain turned back to continue their call Obi-Wan merely smiled. "We had a faint run in with some Jedi, nothing to worry about. Figured we should go where they don't for a bit, plus we miss you."

Jedi.

Jedi.

"Dad," he groaned out before he could stop himself. "Please tell me you didn't try raiding a smaller Temple-"

"Now, hold on a moment," Hondo interrupted. "You only call me that when you are upset about something. Don't get me wrong, little Ben, warms my cold heart. Makes me hear birds singing. Dad. Captain Dad-" A pointed throat clearing stopped the incoming soliloquy. "Right. Back to business. Tell your favorite papa what's wrong!"

Obi-Wan wondered if he could just knock himself out and end this misery.

"I think I am being courted," he finally admitted. "And I am not entirely sure why." Laughter erupted from the holo image and he just knew the crew had been listening the whole time. Typical. "They won't stop asking me to dinner."

Hondo frowned before crossing his arms over his chest, clearly mulling the issue over. "And your pretty way with words hasn't worked?" Obi-Wan shook his head in answer. "Well, little Ben, have you considered using some of those other skills we beat into you?"

He blinked.

What?

And then it clicked. That...that could actually work. He rubbed his chin slightly and winced. Scratchy stubble against fingers was never a pleasant feeling, he'd have to shave tomorrow morning.

"Excuse me, Captain, I have an idiot to challenge to a duel." The laughter this time was mixed with helpful suggestions on how to injure a person. "Send me a message when you are closer. I can set up a safehouse for you all."

"Have fun, little Ben. Try not to break too many hearts now-" he disconnected the call before Hondo could say something truly embarrassing.

The next time the courier came to deliver the invite Obi-Wan had a piece of flimsi to hand back. A declaration of annoyance. He knew his shop would be invaded in no time thanks to what he had written, but it would hopefully stop the madness.

I will have dinner with you if one of you can beat me in a fight.

Things played out rather how he thought they would, except for the part where they somehow named the location. He would have been perfectly content to brawl behind the shop, but here he stood in the middle of the palace training salle. He had spotted Satine when he was guided through the halls and the look on her face had been most displeased. He had merely smiled and gave her a mocking bow as he walked past. The death glare he received in return was adorably awful.

He hoped her face froze that way.

Obi-Wan warmed up as best he could in the large yard and debated just how much he should let loose. He tugged at his sleeves and wondered, not for the first time, if this was actually a wise idea.

Someone, not him, was going to get hurt.

"You'll fight me first," Myles said cheerfully. "No weapons as you requested. Shall I take my armor off for you as well?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes before shaking his head. "That won't be necessary, thank you." The Mandalorian would most likely appreciate having the armor as a buffer between himself and the ground he was about to eat. "I wasn't aware this would be a spectator sport." Various armored Mandalorians stood or sat around the edges of the yard. Their attention was fully on him while he quickly fixed the tie on his hair. He hadn't sensed them enter so there was a large chance they'd watched him stretch.

Why were Mandalorians suddenly so interested in him?

"Word got out, do you want them to leave?"

"Mm, no," he looked up at Myles slowly and let a smile grow on his face. "I perform better with an attentive audience." Soft laughter escaped those watching and Myles shook his head with a rueful look on his features.

"As you wish. First one to pass out or yield is the loser. Do I need to remind you no drawing blood?"

"I promise not to blemish your skin," Obi-Wan said cheekily before dropping down into a more defensive stance. Chatter danced along the edge of his senses, but he ignored it as he held a hand out to Myles. He motioned for the warrior to begin. Silence, the anticipatory type, settled around them both as neither moved right away.

Boots bit into hard dirt and suddenly Myles was hurtling towards him. He sidestepped at the last moment, a hand nearly grabbing his arm. Fingers closed over nothing. He danced back a few steps and quickly pegged the other's fighting style. Brute force and speed. He could counter that, yes, he could counter that quite well. He spent a few moments slipping away, keeping two steps ahead. Myles was growing slightly more erratic in his attacks and then Obi-Wan caught on to the plan. He was being driven towards a corner. Smart. One way to certainly make sure he didn't slip away once more was to make sure he had nowhere to run.

Well, time to change it up.

Obi-Wan flashed a tight smile. Any kicks or hits he threw towards Myles would only make his own body hurt so he had two options for taking down his opponent. Both were risky, but would pay off in spades. He threw himself forward and to the side just as Myles struck again. An arm brushed his hair faintly and the kriffing hair tie exploded. He scowled as he found himself with red in his eyes. The Mandalorian had gotten lucky on that move and it annoyed him. As he spun he sank his hands into the edges of the back of Myles' armor. The proper word left his mind for a moment since he was a tad more focused on not breaking his own neck. He yanked hard as he threw his whole weight into falling backward. A startled sound, almost like a goose actually, escaped Myles when they both fell. Obi-Wan managed to bend his knees and wedge his feet against the lower back in front of him before his own hit the dirt.

"Have fun," he said with cheer as he kicked out hard and up while he put his whole body into the action. There may have been a slight abuse of the Force to help the throw along, but no one was ever going to be able to prove that. His fingers slipped free just as Myles went sailing over him. The momentum of the move had him tumbling as well. A face full of dirt was worth it judging from the loud crashing that soon invaded his hearing. Pain radiated from his chin and one of his shoulders, both he ignored with practiced ease, and then he was pushing himself up off the ground. He also ignored the sudden taste of copper in his mouth as he tried to calm his breathing to something more reasonable. Obi-Wan had accidentally bit the inside of his cheek, drawing his own blood. A technicality that would lose him the match if anyone found out so he figured it would be wise to keep that particular information to himself.

He reached up and pushed his now wild hair out of his face. Strands clung to his fingers and sweaty forehead, causing him to wince, but that was quickly forgotten when suddenly the various warriors that had been watching began yelling. Obi-Wan took a step back in surprise, not quite sure why they sounded so thrilled. The noise was beyond overwhelming. His gaze went towards Myles and a laugh actually escaped him thanks to what he saw, the cheering now forgotten. The riduur of the Mand'alor was just laying there, staring up at the sky with a stunned look on his face.

"Do you yield?" he asked sweetly as he walked over to the man. "Or shall I show you how to fly again?"

"Kriff," Myles finally wheezed out. His cheeks were that indigo shade again, which Obi-Wan now realized was from being flushed, and his eyes were slightly unfocused. Kriff, indeed. Had he given the other a concussion? He realized, in hindsight, he should have insisted the other wear the helmet that went along with that armor for this fight.

"Yield, Myles. I want to make sure I didn't break your skull." He wasn't going to risk kneeling next to the other while the duel was still going on. Myles raised a hand before letting it fall to his side again. A puff of dirt billowed out from the gauntlet as if to add the appropriate amount of dramatics to the fight. A tap out. "Wonderful."

"You still have to beat me," someone said, pulling Obi-Wan's attention from Myles. He glanced towards the source and found himself staring. Jango was void of armor, wearing a simple ice blue shirt with a pair of pants suited for hand to hand.

Oh, dear.

So much for making sure he hadn't broken Jango's partner.

"So I do, Mand'alor. Ready to get physical?" He, of course, threw a wink in for good measure after asking his question.

Chapter Text

No.

Ben had just kept saying no in creative ways and it drove Jango crazy. Myles thought it amusing because the shopkeeper knew who Jango was. Ben simply didn't care. A no was a no and he knew he should have backed off, but something inside of him wouldn't let him. The delicate little botanist had destroyed Satine with mere words and that only made him want the man by his side even more. He wished he had been there to see that spectacle, but he had to be content with Myles' dramatic retelling. Shame there wasn't a holorecording.

The day a reply other than a no came back was the day Jango had kissed Myles in front of Satine. His riduur had just laughed while the prim and proper lady choked on her fizzy drink. If he had to guess she was the reason so many had heard about the upcoming duel. Whispering behind delicate hands with brightly lacquered nails.

She had hoped to cause trouble, attempt to gain more allies.

Satine truly did not understand what it was to be a True Mandalorian.

When Myles and Ben squared off it was with an audience that went from cautious to extremely interested. The only thing the meddling girl had done was now give him more competition.

Watching his riduur go flying had been impressive and also made him realize the tactical error they had both made. Jango had assumed Ben wouldn’t be that great of a fighter from the way he carried himself, but Myles had just learned otherwise the painful way. A slow grin settled on his lips as he listened to the verd'e give their stamp of approval. The delicate looking shopkeeper had no idea what he had just done for his standing amongst the Haat Mando’ade.

"I thought he was a pacifist," Satine said with clear disbelief. He tensed, but made sure not to jump in surprise. He hadn't realized she was standing just behind him. She had somehow moved silently in her elaborate dress, which left him a tad impressed. If he ever wore something like that he would most likely trip over his own feet.

"One can be against war and still know how to protect themselves," he retorted easily. "Now, excuse me, I need to play with the florist." She glared at him up at him instantly, eyes flashing with actual anger. She had clearly picked up his insult and he merely smiled before moving to call out to Ben.

The challenge was accepted and Ben only took a moment to pull an extra hair tie free of his wrist. Jango watched while the other worked quickly to braid crimson locks into a loose braid. The snap of the hair tie securing the creation seemed to echo and that was when he realized everyone had been watching as well. His jaw clenched in annoyance. The ordeal of courting Ben was already difficult enough without any of the verd'e attempting to gain his affection instead.

"Ready?"

Ben nodded and shifted into a defensive stance, placing his weight securely on the balls of his feet. So he planned to fight the same way? Jango grinned before he mimicked the pose. A delicate eyebrow rose and then a brilliant smile appeared. Kriff, he could stare at vision forever. He shoved that thought down and focused. He had a goal, a mission. He had to win. He needed to win. The silence from the audience centered him as he refused to make the first move. Ben would have to strike first.

A moment passed and he could see the calculation on the other's face. His smile grew before he could help himself. Eyes widened in response before a scowl appeared. Good, maybe being irritated would make Ben slip up. He barely had the thought before he was bringing an arm to block a swing at his throat. He was impressed that his opponent managed to jump back fast enough to avoid the return hit. What followed next was a rapid exchange of punches and kicks, both trying to break the other's defense. Ben, despite his size, knew how to throw his whole weight into a move. He followed through like a karking gundark. Jango could already see the signs that the other was more comfortable holding a weapon though. It was in the tiny way he twisted his wrists or over adjusted for a step.

He could picture a blade in those hands and knew, just knew, he would not have won that type of duel.

The next time Ben moved in to strike Jango made sure to step forward. A leg ended up between the other's and he twisted just as he reached out to grab the arm sailing towards his neck. The hit landed, but he was already pulling. A sound of displeasure escaped the red head, but Ben was already trying to somehow turn the tide. He threw himself into the fall and Jango swore loudly. There was an attempt to stop what was happening, but his feet only became tangled with Ben's. Pain blossomed on his cheek as their heads collided a tad painfully. He was only half aware that they both slammed into the dirt before the force of the tumble had them rolling.

His cheek stung.

Somehow Ben ended up straddling him while he lay on his back, and the man had an arm raised to deliver a hit that would most likely knock him out when he just sort of froze.

The earrings were stained, the blue peeking through a wet crimson.

Jango burst out laughing and Ben lowered his arm slowly. The decorative pieces of jewelry had bitten the Mand'alor's face and drawn blood.

"I should have taken them out," Ben whispered in a sort of confused sounding tone. Jango didn't care he just won thanks to the other accidentally drawing blood, no, he was thrilled. He kriffing ached from every single hit he had received, but he won.

"Looks like you are having dinner with us after all," he said with a smug smile. Ben snorted rudely before finally moving to stand up. Jango missed the weight of the other at once and decided to just lay there a mere moment more. He needed to get particular fantasies in his head to calm down a bit before he stood up.

Ben, for his part, merely gave him a bow before admitting defeat. The tone was both amused and sullen. The pretty little shopkeeper clearly was not pleased he had lost thanks to breaking a rule on accident. "You win, unfortunately."

And then he noticed the disturbance near the entrance. Myles looked annoyed while Satine talked low and fast at him. Jango groaned before finally standing up. He motioned for Ben to follow and didn't check to see if the order was acknowledged since he was already striding quickly towards his riduur.

"Satine," he bit out. She had to be causing trouble.

Chapter Text

A shower was calling his name. The type of shower with actual water that he could stand under while all the dirt on him washed away. Unfortunately, he was instead dealing with a growing headache. Why did this day just keep going?

He had wanted to go home so he could pass out on his bed, he had wanted to just leave the palace, and he had also wanted to just abuse the Force to get Satine to stop her current line of argument. Maybe he'd ask Hondo to steal all her wardrobe? If she almost hit him one more time with that oversized sleeve he was going to set the delicate creation on fire.

The wealth she displayed so openly was sickening.

"He is not even a real Mandalorian," she hissed at Myles while gesturing towards Obi-Wan. Oh, they all knew who she was talking about so the motion was hardly necessary. The tactic, he had to admit, was an interesting one coming from her of all people. "I looked into him, he has only had that shop for a year and before that he only worked there two years. The florist has only been here for three years and you just let him seduce his way into the palace!"

His eyes widened a little bit at that and he was suddenly thankful they were all in a deserted room. Obi-Wan wasn't thrilled she was trying to dig into his past, but it was the accusation that was tripping him up. Seduce? He had done no such thing. Also, he wasn't a kriffing florist. Why couldn't people get that right?

"Satine," Jango said in a warning tone.

"Am I wrong?" There was self righteous fury in her eyes. She spun on Obi-Wan and he could feel pinprick daggers trying to graze his flesh thanks to the glare she was focusing on him. "Who are you? You are clearly educated. A member of Death Watch, perhaps? Are you looking to stab Jango in the back like some coward?"

This was growing beyond tedious.

"Ben Ohnaka," he said in a tired voice. "If you must know I'm a retired pirate that just wants to grow some plants in peace. Honestly, I wish you would all just leave me be." He had only told the truth because he knew they wouldn't believe him. The matching startled faces proved him correct in his educated guess, then those expressions were transforming, shaping into new emotions. Satine looked beyond furious because she clearly thought she had been made the butt of some joke, whereas Jango and Myles both simply looked amused. He made a faint face before moving to cross his arms over his chest. Pain erupted from his shoulder and he didn't quite hide his look of discomfort fast enough.

"We are done, Satine. You know Mandalore welcomes everyone or have you forgotten that in your lust to destroy what we are at our core," Jango asked in a tight tone. Myles smirked before pretty much manhandling the pampered princess out of the room. The door slammed shut and then Obi-Wan found himself stared at like he was some sort of specimen. Oh, dear, what had he done? "Ben."

"Mand'alor," he said dryly.

"You're injured," Jango advanced until he was dangerously close.

Ah.

"I'm fine." A lie. "I merely need some rest." Not as big of a lie. "Perhaps we can set a date for dinner and in the meantime time-" The words turned into a sound of surprise as a hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed. He hadn't noticed Myles moving to stand behind him, curse Jango, his attention had only been on Jango. A hiss of pain escaped him and he tried to wrench his shoulder free.

"Bruised, badly most likely, not broken. A bacta patch should be enough," Myles' voice brushed past his ear, Obi-Wan had to do his best not to flush at the sensation. His earrings felt overly cool against his flesh suddenly. "I won't know how badly injured he is without a more thorough assessment."

"I'm fine," he stressed as best he could.

"I could order you to our small medical," Jango informed him with a faint hint of amusement. His eyes seemed to darken with emotion and Obi-Wan found he had to avert his gaze. He had almost started trying to figure out just how many colors were in those eyes watching him.

"As it has been so politely pointed out," he drawled out before scraping his teeth over his lower lip nervously. Seeing a healer would mean the potential for some of his scars to be exposed. Those would result in questions he didn't want asked. "I am not actually a Mandalorian."

Myles snorted with laughter, hand tightening just a fraction. "Ben, you nearly beat the Mand'alor in combat. You also handed my shebs to me. I don't think you are going to be able to convince people that you aren't one of us. Satine will find something else to harp on. My money is on her saying the royal couple is falling apart thanks to the pretty little Ben Ohnaka and his seductive ways."

He groaned loudly before letting his head fall into his hands. He really just wanted to go back to his home and pretend none of this had happened. Yet, somehow, despite his wishes and protests he found himself getting treated. It was a small miracle that neither Jango or Myles insisted on being in the room. The healer had been polite, treated his shoulder, and then had basically shoved a bacta candy into his mouth. The flavor was vile, but his cheek felt better instantly.

"I think we will keep that injury between us or the Mand'alor might think he won twice over," the healer had teased before lightly giving his chin a faint squeeze. He felt oddly like a child in that moment.

Then, as if to add extra insult to injury, he found himself sitting on a bench between the Mand'alor and his riduur. The arrangement was wise, honestly, if they had left him an opening he would have certainly ran. Various Mandalorians walked by, visors turning towards them, and he had the oddest sensation that he was the center of attention.

Someone stopped by, shoved a food box at Myles, and then promptly walked away. The bounty was distributed between the three of them much to Obi-Wan's surprise.

A hot ball of dough was clutched in his hands and he stared down at the creation with mild interest. The smell was intoxicating. Tangy, with a hint of spice, and heavily meaty. Kriff, he hadn't realized he was so famished. Two fights back to back, plus the minefield of a conversation, had clearly worked up an appetite.

"This doesn't count as our dinner date," Myles informed him cheerfully. "We have another fancy dinner coming up."

"You will be our guest."

Oh, joy, he was going to have to dress up. He wasn't even sure he had clothes appropriate for an event like that. He'd have to spend some of his credits and he'd have to go clothes shopping. This just kept getting worse and worse.

"Mm, I somehow figured I would not get off so easily."

Jango merely smiled smugly before motioning to the food that Obi-Wan still had yet to try. Myles' treat was half gone.

Obi-Wan frowned, deciding to ignore the two on either side of him for the moment, and simply took a large bite of the pastry. Flavor exploded in his mouth and a loud moan escaped him before he could stop the noise. The stewed meat paired with the buttery flavor was just beyond delicious. There was a faint tingle growing in his nose while a sort of spice built in his throat. Both Mandalorians froze and then a faint sound escaped one of them. Soft, low, honk like.

He didn't care, he had no shame in letting out a sound of pleasure while eating this creation. He needed to ask for the recipe or where they had gotten these meat pockets from. Hondo and the crew would love eating these, well, that and Obi-Wan definitely wanted to eat this again. Perhaps, he mused, the recipe would be useless. He was a tad abysmal when it came to making his own food. Obi-Wan had once burned a toasted cheese and bread sandwich, nearly setting his tiny kitchen on fire. Since that day he relied on things premade or easily assembled. The local food vendors loved him.

Incoming Message

Arriving sooner. Might have tail.

Splitting up. Only four of us. Rest going to nest.

I brought more plants.

End Message

Respond? Y/N…

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan had slammed the door in the face of the poor tailor that Jango had sent. He had refused any and all gifts from the royal couple. He wasn’t going to subject himself to going to that dinner while wearing clothes he wasn’t comfortable in. If he was forced to dress up, rather like the times he had infiltrated political functions for his Captain, then he was going in clothes he had picked out. Comfort and function was important, plus he didn't want his choices getting back to the palace. So, he painfully subjected himself to a slight shopping trip. The fact the shopkeeper had seemed overly keen to help him left him with a funny taste in his mouth. That taste only soured further when he noticed more and more Mandalorians paying attention to him. He couldn’t walk more than a few steps without someone, somehow, ending up in his path.

His peaceful life was wrecked. The amount of comm codes he was gathering was getting a bit ridiculous.

Then there was the matter of the shop- he had never been so busy. He was guessing people were simply buying things as an excuse to see him so he started pushing them towards things with higher price points. They bought them. That was good for business, but bad for him trying to sort out a safehouse for his Captain and crew. With the rate this was all going he was just going to have to give his small house over and end up sleeping in his own shop. Actually, a cot in the back wouldn’t be so bad. The plants kept him calm.

The plants didn't ask him personal questions.

His life was upended and he knew it was his own fault. He should have just kept saying no. The duels had really kriffed him over.

Now he had to suffer the consequences.

He stared into the small mirror in his fresher and frowned deeply. His long hair was pulled back in a braid, which meant both of his ears were on display. His kyber earrings stood out, but it was the delicate silver leaves on his right ear that made him smile softly. The cuff was light weight and went from lobe to tip. A fanciful purchase and one he was glad he had made. His pale complexion stood out more thanks to the deep green tunic he wore, so dark it was near black. When he moved the light seemed to yank the green hues out and he may have twirled once or twice just to feed his own delight. He had paired that with a pair of supple black leather pants that vanished into his boots. The boots were, thankfully, not new, but they were perhaps his least scuffed pair. They had sheaths for hidden knives and fit him perfectly, coming to stop just below his knees.

He made a face at himself, not amused that he felt a sort of obligation to go through with this, and set about marking his face. If he was going to a fancy dinner then he was going with warpaint. He lined his eyes with a steady hand and then proceeded to draw a thick band of the same glimmering teal across one cheek, over the bridge of his nose, and then across his other cheek. There was a moment where he thought it looked yellow in the mirror, but the trick of his eyes vanished before he could even frown.

Right, time to face the music.

Far too many people in power tried to pull him into conversations he wanted no part of so he was painfully blunt as a means of retaliation. No, he didn't think forcing people to fight would help. If you are so concerned about food then why not open trade routes to those willing to trade for things only Mandalore can provide? Yes, that color is washing you out.

Several people had looked mildly thoughtful when he stated perhaps children were not running away and maybe it would be wise to consider their opponent was not going to fight fair.

One man that wore far too much gold asked questions that he deemed stupid. That man didn't even notice when a ring or two vanished when they clasped hands before parting.

Jango or Myles always seemed to be just near, but never stepped in to rescue him or stop him. They were watching him, listening even, and he had a bad feeling about that. What were they trying to find out? They didn't seem to notice any of his slights of hands, nor did they notice when he brushed past Satine and rid himself of his ill gotten gains into the pocket of her flamboyant dress. Her little snide remarks to other people about him had made him feel annoyed. She looked down on him, which he didn't exactly care about, but those few remarks about Jango and Myles? Yes, that was why he sought mild revenge. If she wasn't careful then her pretty words would sow unease amongst those who needed to support the Mand'alor.

Obi-Wan was thankful when it came time to actually eat. He was less than thankful when he was placed at Myles' right with Satine directly across from him. Her spot was next to the chair that sat empty at the Mand'alor's left. She was not allowed to sit right next to the man in power, something she clearly wasn't thrilled with. Her ire seemed to only grow since he was so dangerously close to the royal couple in his seat. The implication of the seating put them at equal ranks and that had to infuriate her.

It wasn't his fault. He hadn't planned where people sat.

At least the food smelled good?

He kept direct eye contact as he made a show of picking up the wrong fork. Manners, shockingly, had been drilled into him when he was a youngling. He was merely taking that knowledge and using it to cause the lady across from him to have a horrible night. He did, honestly, debate grabbing the knife, but he wasn’t a complete monster. Satine's brows began to knit together in annoyance and he merely flashed her a polite smile before stabbing the slab of meat on his plate. A sound of distress escaped her, a sound that only grew as he brought the food up to his mouth. Obi-Wan yanked a chunk off with his teeth, making sure it made a rather audible ripping sound, and then nearly choked when Satine actually pushed herself away from the table. He hadn't thought she would react quite so elaborately.

She was certainly wound up.

"Ben Ohnaka, you are the worst!"

Everyone was suddenly staring at him so he carefully set the spiced meat back on his plate. What happened next was, perhaps, not his finest moment. Obi-Wan settled on raising an eyebrow in challenge, but didn't move from his seat. She was making a scene. He scrunched his nose and sneered just for her.

She stomped a foot while a strangled note of rage left her. He rather thought it sounded like a dying goose was standing across from him.

How childish. His lips curled into a smug smile before he could stop himself. Her cheeks flushed with anger in response.

“Both of you,” Myles said a bit forcibly. “Please. We aren’t ade.” Ah, he had been figured out it seemed.

“He might as well be! He knows what he is doing. He is ruining this dinner on purpose,” Satine snapped.

“I’m just a florist. How am I to know which fork to use? There are so many and not a set of chopsticks in sight,” he said as innocently as possible. He even widened his teal lined eyes to add to the whole effect. Jango choked on his drink. Myles reached out and pulled on his braid, clearly not buying his innocence. Various pockets of laughter erupted around the table and Satine actually looked lost for a moment. She squared her shoulders, raised her dainty little chin, before gracefully sitting down again.

His comm trilled loudly and he, once again, found himself the center of attention. "Apologies, I thought I had turned it off," he pulled the device free and read the message quickly. Kriff, why now? His fingers tightened slightly around the object before he responded. Hondo needed the code to get into his house. He typed quickly, instantly fearing for any and all expensive booze he had hidden in his kitchen.

"Everything alright?" Myles pitched his voice low and Obi-Wan flashed him a tight smile.

"Some family has merely decided to arrive unannounced and found themselves locked out," he said honestly. "I hate to be rude-" Satine let out a dainty snort of disgust. "-but I think I need to leave."

"Family is important," Jango simply said before both he and Myles nodded. There was a strange matching twinkle in their eyes, one that had him blinking.

"My thanks," he said softly before excusing him from the table. He bowed politely and watched Satine look perplexed out of the corner of his eyes. She clearly had not expected him to execute a courtly bow so perfectly. Once the proper amount of goodbyes were exchanged he escaped, but not before he heard a voice exclaim in surprise their silk napkin was oddly missing. Obi-Wan smirked as he walked faster, napkin securely up his sleeve, and went to go find out what damage Hondo and a small amount of the crew were causing.

Tailed, indeed.

Obi-Wan tied the napkin securely over his lower face and mentally cursed his adopted father. There was a Jedi near, one he could just sense, and that was not good. They had led the tail straight to his humble hovel.

Now he was stuck on the edge of a roof, overlooking an alleyway, and he stared down at the man merely watching his front door.

He suddenly wanted to be back at the fancy dinner.

"Hello there," he said cheerfully as he dropped down from the ledge above the unwanted Jedi. Oh, they were trying to blend in, but the Force users always carried themselves just a little too differently. It was painfully easy to pick a Master out in a crowd, at least it was for him. He threw himself backward just as the other spun, clearly ready to go on attack, and felt the air leave him. He had just been punched straight in his memories.

This wasn't-

What were the odds?

Chapter Text

Dinner finished a tad awkwardly after Ben had made his escape. Low conversations, quick excuses to leave, and that was all fine. Jango had found the whole evening amusing right up until a simple comm call had the object of his intense interest running. Myles had spent the rest of dinner staring at Satine with a calculated look. His riduur was waiting for something to happen and wasn’t showing a sign of worrying about where Ben had gone. Something else, something that was going to be worth the wait, was clearly more important for the moment.

Myles had whispered at one point before dinner that he thought Ben was playing a sort of game with their guests, a game no one else knew they were a part of, and that had impressed Myles more than the fight.

Jango let his partner have his own thoughts while his drifted back to the call. Family, family had arrived. What they had dug up on Ben hadn’t pointed to a riduur and the man hadn’t used that as a means to stop them from courting him, so the call had to be a different sort of family. He couldn’t help wondering just what the other’s family was like. Were they warriors? Were they politicians? Did he have ade?

Did Ben want ade?

Kriff, Jango wanted to adopt so many ade with Ben and Myles.

He swirled the purple wine in his glass while he found himself musing about things he didn’t know. It was the sound of Satine’s chair scrapping backward that had him shifting his gaze towards her. Ben’s chair hadn’t made a sound when he pushed it back suddenly. It seemed that Ben had more grace than a lady raised for the courts. His brows knit together when a sort of clinking escaped the woman as she moved to face him. How unexpected and not unexpected.

“Satine,” he breathed out. “Did you steal our silverware?” Myles laughed into his own glass of purple wine. Ah, the end of the game was about to be announced it seemed.

“I beg your pardon,” she actually sounded insulted. A sort of annoyed look appeared on her face and Jango once again thought she would be utterly awful at sabacc. “I am not some common thief! How dare you.”

“Really? Empty your pockets,” Jango leaned forward in his seat and waved a hand towards the source of the noise. Satine’s cheeks flushed with annoyance and she shot a look towards Myles, clearly trying to get the man she often belittled to help her. His riduur merely raised his wine glass in a mocking salute. Most of the other guests had already left, off to see to their own aliit, so she wouldn’t have anyone to back her up. “I won’t ask again.”

If he was being honest then he would have to admit that Satine was basically no better than a sheltered adiik. A child that failed to see there were more sides to an argument than her own. She was dangerous, as Ben had pointed out to Myles. The shopkeeper had taken one look at the New Mandalorian and had decided she could do more harm than good, or at least that was how Myles told the tale. Jango was seeing the signs. She stoked the fires of gossip and belittled those who would fight.

She wanted to destroy history.

He watched as she finally began to empty her pockets onto the table. Were those gold flakes in her nail lacquer? He hadn’t quite realized just how much wealth she was wasting on her appearances until he had watched Ben walk into the palace this evening. Glimmering teal and shades of black would be stuck in his mind tonight while he tried to find some sort of release. Those thoughts were shoved aside for the moment while he watched each item be set out for display.

A comb, a decorative compact, some candies that he was positive she would never eat- her brows knitting together at the sight of the candy only further confirmed that- and then came the various pieces of jewelry. The look of confusion on her face only grew as each elaborate ring or bangle was set down.

“Why, Satine,” Myles purred with pleasure. “It seems you’ve been busy.” Jango kicked him under the table and merely got a smirk in response. They both had the same idea at once. Ben Ohnaka.

“This is quite serious, my dear,” Jango jumped at the chance to move her off the playing board of politics. This was a gift he wasn’t going to rebuke even if he wasn’t positive it had actually been given to him on purpose. There may have been another reason for the stolen goods to be planted on her, but now he was twisting it to his own agenda. “You are to retire to your Clan’s estates for the time being while we sort out just how much damage your sticky fingers have wrought amongst my allies.”

“Jango,” she cried, affronted, “I did not do this! I have no idea how these found their way into my pockets.”

“Mand’alor,” he corrected coldly. “I am your Mand’alor and you should remember your place.” Myles hid his mouth behind a hand, but he could still see the way those shoulders shook with unbridled amusement. “I’ll have you escorted back to your suite here so that you might pack what you need. As of right now, Satine, you are not to involve yourself in my rule.”

She looked lost and then angry and then she looked like she wanted to murder someone. So unbecoming of someone who abhorred violence.

“As you wish, Mand’alor.” She left everything on the table, even the items that belonged to her, and stormed off. Heels clicked loudly on the floor and once again Jango had to think Ben moved silently. Myles waited until the room was empty to slouch in his chair, clearly exhausted but pleased.

“I had wondered why Ben kept getting close to her,” his riduur said with amusement curling around his words. “I never saw him actually steal anything or plant anything on her, but…”

Jango hummed in faint agreement before finishing off his wine. Ben had undermined Satine faster than anyone he had ever seen. The tactic was dirty but well executed. He had heard the silver-tongued man state they shouldn’t expect their enemies to fight fair. Despite that comment, or perhaps rather because of it, he was positive that Ben Ohnaka would not betray the Mand’alor.

“She was growing too secure in her power,” he finally said. “I know for a fact she has been spreading rumors, as well as working against my wishes. She wants to mold Manda’yaim and the Mando’ade in her boring image.” The mere idea left him feeling slightly sick to his stomach. Satine’s Empire would be full of people who all thought the same, looked the same, and all judged the same. How was that living?

Where was the passion in that type of life?

“We should be careful,” Myles said with great care. “She will most likely think Ben set her up. Even banished for the moment, she still has connections. I am not saying she would assassinate him, but she can definitely find other ways to destroy him.”

That was painfully true. She could destroy his character and rip apart who he was supposed to be. Vicious words from those painted lips could move idiots to do horrible things. Jango stared at his empty glass and frowned deeply. He had no doubt Ben could somehow defend himself, but he didn’t like the idea that he would have to do so. There was a moment, a brief one, where he wondered if he should just have an accident arranged for her.

“You know,” Myles said suddenly with a strange look on his face. “Maybe he wasn’t lying when he said he was a retired pirate? That would explain his amazing sleight of hand if he did actually plant the contraband on Satine.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Jango found the whole idea somewhat dubious. “Every pirate we have ever encountered is far less…”

“Cultured?”

“I suppose that is the word I am going for. Ben has this grace and when he fights- Kriff, it was like he dances instead of fights. I am used to pirates being unrefined and extremely…” His words drifted off as he tried to figure out how to explain what he meant. When Ben fought he made it look like he wasn’t even trying, he simply moved. He had moved just a fraction before each hit, he had seemed to know just when to step away, right up until Jango had changed things up. His eyes narrowed faintly as an unsettling thought started to bubble inside of his mind. He didn’t move quite like a jettiise, but it was almost close.

Who the kark had trained Ben Ohanak to fight?

“I am sure Ben will know just how to move in your bed, pirate or not,” Myles teased.

“And for that, my dear warrior, you can sleep on the couch tonight,” Jango said breezily as he stood up. Myles merely pouted for a moment before laughing. The serious talks were over for the moment and he merely wanted to go dream of teal and shades of black that gave away to cinnamon.

Chapter Text

The other didn't seem to register the situation right away and lunged at him. Obi-Wan swore and tried to move out of the way. A glove twisted at the edge of his makeshift mask, fingers yanking hard, and he felt the kyber pulse encouragingly. The cool evening air felt shockingly cold against his face while he stumbled back an ungraceful step. All of his training seemed to throw itself out of his mind as he stared with wide eyes.

The other was frozen, silken napkin clutched in their gloved fingers, and was staring back with equally wide eyes.

They were in no way a Master. They weren't old enough, at least he didn't think so.

One thought raced through his mind rapidly, opening old wounds in the process.

Qui-Gon hadn’t come for him.

Qui-Gon and the Jedi hadn’t come for him.

The Jedi hadn’t come for him.

Emotions, raw emotions, rapidly danced across the face in front of him.

They were both blindsided it seemed.

How many times had he watched a younger version of that face yell in delight while doing something dangerous? How many times had that nose crinkled up in amusement, scrunching yellow as it did so before laughter followed?

They had stolen into the kitchens more times than he could remember.

Memories surfaced, rapid and joyful in his mind, and Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do. His earrings just kept pulsing contentedly.

“You’re-” The words oddly died on his lips, dried up before he could even finish them. You’re my friend.

“Kenobi,” the name was released into the air with a sort of reverence he didn’t understand. Fingers tightened violently around the poor napkin. “Obi-Wan Kenobi. Deceased, the body never recovered.”

A startled laugh escaped him before he could stop himself. “Deceased? Kriff, of course, no karking body was ever recovered! No one came looking!” And then a body was colliding with his, air escaped his lungs again painfully, and he was tangled up in limbs. Quinlan wasn’t even trying to shield the intoxicating storm of emotions that swirled around them.

“Why are you dressed like a holoromancenovel protagonist?” Quin asked against the shell of his ear and he had a moment of being thankful it was his right side. Laughter spilled past his lips, free and unrestrained. He supposed that was a good description for his outfit, what with the gaudy warpaint and all. He was tempted to ask how his friend even knew what a protagonist from one of those novels would look like, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to utter those words. Instead, he just shifted enough to bury his face in his once dear friend’s neck. Quinlan hugged him tighter and he got the sense that the other was afraid he’d vanish if he let go.

“Why are you here?" he finally asked once the emotions inside of him weren’t threatening to make him come undone.

“I was tracking some pirates that stole a few texts from an archaeological dig site. Old Temple. They swooped in and raided the place. It was kriffing weird, just stole the texts and a potted plant- which I have no idea how it survived this long-” He groaned, cutting Quinlan off, and cursed his Captain to the stars. Hondo had literally brought the Jedi down on his head.

“They’re...for me, I think. If I know my father any,” he grumbled as he pulled back slightly, not quite removing himself from the embrace.

“...father? Wait, what?” Quinlan looked intrigued and offended at the same time. “I thought you didn’t know who your family was? Did you find them?”

“Ah, no, I don’t know who gave me up, Quin. I was referring to Hondo, the pirate you are tracking. He found me after the Jedi left me for dead and raised me. He...he likes to bring me gifts when he visits. Come on, if you promise not to bring him to justice I’ll introduce the two of you.”

And that was how he found himself sitting on the counter in his own kitchen while Quinlan Vos and Hondo Ohanka stared each other down over a bottle of spiced rice wine. He was content to merely slice an apple up with a knife before eating each slice straight from the blade. Leaving the fancy dinner early meant he hadn’t gotten to finish his meal, which really was his biggest regret of the evening. If he recalled correctly he had some instant noodle packages in his cupboards he could break out if the apple didn’t fill him up. His nose wrinkled in annoyance at that, the food at the palace had ruined instant noodles for him. Those packages were just so salty in taste now.

“So, you mean to tell me that they just said my little Ben was just dead and didn’t bother looking,” his Captain said with clear displeasure.

“Master Jinn said that Obes’ Force signature just went out, like a light, and that was that,” Quinlan said with a shrug while eyeing his small cup of booze. “The Council sent someone to look into Bandomeer, but they found no sign so we held a sort of memorial service for him...and then life moved on.” Obi-Wan licked the edge of his blade to get some of the juice of it as he let that phrase bounce around his head. Then life moved on. How perfectly Jedi.

“That is awful,” Hondo sounded offended on behalf of his adopted son. “When we found Ben, he was near death, but he fought back. Well, well, the Jedi lost a good one and I made out spectacularly. Their loss, my business gain! Did you know my boy is being courted by the royal couple here? I’ll be an in-law to the power couple here in no time!”

Obi-Wan choked on a slice of apple. The cough that escaped him was not proper at all and he threw a dirty look towards his Captain as the man burst out laughing. He wasn’t marrying the royal couple! He wasn’t marrying anyone, thank you. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Don’t give me that look, little Ben. I tapped into my sources here. I assume that is why you are wearing pretty colors on your face, yes? How was the date I ruined?” He narrowed his eyes and realized his Captain had planned the arrival perfectly.

“I didn’t get to finish my dinner,” he simply said in response before making a show of eating another apple slice off his blade. Quinlan watched him with a look of fascination on his face. “And it wasn’t a date. It was a fancy dinner that had me wanting to put a vibroblade through my own face.” Hondo burst out laughing, slapping a hand down on the table, which prompted Quinlan to quickly stop the cups of rice wine from toppling over.

“So,” Quinlan asked slowly. “If you are a pirate, does that make Obes one too?”

“Ben was, he retired about...three years ago? Yes, three years ago. He has a quite respectable job now. I’m so proud, he turned out so well,” Hondo practically radiated pride and affection into the Force. Obi-Wan blushed and simply shifted to bring a leg up under him carefully. Praise was freely given amongst the pirates, but it somehow always still caught him off guard.

Right, topic change time.

“Will you go back to the Temple now? I can return the stolen items to your custody,” he inquired before tossing the knife he had been using into his small sink. It clattered loudly, drawing the attention of both Quinlan and Hondo, and then their eyes were on him.

“Now, hang on a moment, I worked hard to liberate those for you-”

“We might have a problem, actually,” Quinlan said as a look of guilt settled on his face. “There is a Master and Apprentice team on their way to this planet.” Obi-Wan blinked. That was problematic, they would most certainly not be welcomed kindly. “When I realized the thieves were heading here I commed the Council, per my orders. They might sort of think that the Mand’alor has some hand in this since the items stolen have to do with our shared history. So, they might be sending one of their great diplomats.”

Great diplomats?

Obi-Wan was suddenly very glad he didn’t have the knife in his hand still. Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan were coming to Mandalore. Oh, that was a cruel twist of fate right there.

“Kark. I have to warn Jango and Myles. When are they going to arrive?” He noticed the way Hondo smirked. His Captain obviously thought he was smitten if his mind went straight to warning the Mand’alor and his riduur.

“Uuuh,” Quinlan said eloquently in response. Double kriff.

“You don’t understand, Quin,” Obi-Wan said before he jumped off the counter. “There is already a civil war going on here! Jedi are only going to make it worse and probably take the wrong kriffing side.”

“Whoa, hey,” Quinlan said hotly. “We don’t pick sides-”

“Really? I’ve seen what happens first hand when a Jedi picks a side.”

Hondo simply reached and grabbed the whole bottle of rice wine. Obi-Wan shot him a glare as the Captain began to just chug the expensive alcohol.

He stalked out of the kitchen, not caring that he was leaving a Jedi and a pirate alone. They’d figure themselves out or they wouldn't. He breezed past the members of the crew that had clearly been eavesdropping and headed straight for his bedroom. It was only once inside the safety of his room that he let out the swear words fall from his lips like rain. The time was late and he knew he would only give certain people ideas with what he was about to do, but he didn’t exactly see how else to handle the situation.

He sat on the floor, his back to his locked bedroom door, and called Myles.

“It’s late,” Jango’s image flourished into view and he had a moment of wondering how he had called the wrong person. “Is everything alright?”

“You aren’t Myles,” he said a tad dumbly. This night was getting to him.

“Myles is in the fresher. Is everything alright?" the Mand’alor repeated his question a bit more firmly. Obi-Wan realized the man was wearing a sleeping tunic. Kriff, how much time had passed since the fancy dinner?

“No,” he finally said with a shrug. Jango’s image looked less than amused. “I have word Jedi are coming to Mandalore. They will arrive in secret and attempt to gather intel to prove that you’ve done a wrong against them.” Quinlan had said the Order thought the Mandalorians were responsible for the thefts so he wasn’t lying. He was trying to deliver the facts. His grasp of proper mission procedure was, however, extremely rusty.

“And how did a botanist come across this information?”

“I collect information, Mand’alor. I sell it as well, but this I give freely.” Obi-Wan crossed his legs and aborted the motion of rubbing his face. Jango’s gaze seemed to track his hand, almost witnessing him smearing teal across a cheek. “And I have little love for the Jedi.”

Then life moved on.

Jango hummed faintly before slowly smiling. Obi-Wan rather felt like he had just walked straight into a trap and he wasn’t sure why. “You seem to have put yourself into two dangerous situations now. Be ready in the morning.”

“...for what?” What had he missed? What had he just messed up?

“Your suite will be ready by then. You are going to be under our protection fully and I will not accept any argument on this. We will sort out the shop after you are moved in.”

Obi-Wan blinked and then blinked again.

Oh, kark.

“I’m not-”

“In the morning, Ben.” And then the call ended abruptly. Obi-Wan threw the comm across the room and swore again. He had just been outmaneuvered by a kriffing Mandalorian that let out honks when flustered!

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was having one strange day. Correction, he was having a strange life all of a sudden. He could pinpoint the exact moment everything had lurched horribly to the side and off the mundane path. That moment was the day the Mand’alor and his riduur had decided to hide in his shop.

Somehow that day had spiraled into him living in the palace.

Quinlan had invited himself along when the speeder arrived and no one had known what to say. Visors had just looked between them and then off they went. Once they had all arrived at the palace he had just stared straight ahead, holding his plant, and ignored the running commentary from his friend. The halls passed by quickly and he took nothing in.

Obi-Wan was annoyed.

The suite he was shown into was larger than his kriffing house.

He had planted himself on the far too large bed in the bedroom and refused to move while people seemed to trickle in and out of the room. He hadn’t even bothered to take off his boots while he sat crossed-legged in the middle of the plush sheets. He was, perhaps, having a minor tantrum of sorts. He wasn’t throwing things or yelling, instead, he was showing mild acts of misbehaving. Obi-Wan was displeased with the current turn of events. He hardly needed protection and found this whole thing beyond unnecessary. Obi-Wan was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, something the Mandalorians should have realized by now. Had he not bested Myles and nearly Jango?

Curse Jango for being Mand’alor.

It wasn't like he had a lot of stuff to move in, but it seemed the Mandalorians were making sure he had everything he supposedly needed. The various plants that kept appearing were nice, he had to admit. He wasn’t planning on staying and couldn’t help wondering who would tend to the plants when he finally escaped. Maybe he could steal a few when he ran?

Quinlan had encouraged this current situation by saying he wanted to see how this played out and that it would be unwise to cause a diplomatic incident by refusing the royal couple. Hondo had just seemed amused.

So here he sat, with an indifferent look on his face while his friend took far too much delight in exploring. He hadn’t even slept last night and may have still been wearing the same outfit from the fancy dinner. The only difference was he had undone the braid to pull his hair back into a messy high bun that was secured with two chopsticks. He should have stolen a fork and used that as a hair thing.

If he was being forced to live in the palace then he was going to make this difficult for everyone.

Hondo, thankfully, had made sure he was scarce for the initial move, but he just knew his Captain was now drinking all of his booze. How many of his trinkets were going to get stolen? He loved the crew and his Captain, honest, but they were awful houseguests. Maybe he could sneak them into the palace? He just needed to find out where Satine's suites were. They’d love to rob her blind and, honestly, she would deserve losing some of her ridiculous dresses.

His arms were circled around the durasteel pot that housed the stolen Force plant, the only sign he was truly uncomfortable. His kyber crystals seemed happy, however, the traitors. The Force seemed to be trying to tell him that it was great he was in the palace. The Force, he decided, could go frip itself and leave him alone.

“Quin,” he hissed in annoyance as his friend made a decent amount of noise. “Stop it.”

Quinlan paused in yanking yet another closet door open and cast a look at him. “Oh, come on, I’ve never been in a palace like this! You came out of your room last night like an angry nexu. How can I not want to explore this new living space that has you all riled up? Sith spit, you have like four whole rooms here! What are you going to do with all this space?”

An excellent question, but hardly important. They needed to worry about the arriving Jedi.

“You should be stopping-” Quinlan motioned for him to stop talking and he snapped his mouth shut instantly, teeth clicking against each other in the process. Myles walked into the room a mere moment later and didn’t seem surprised to see both of them. Ah, of course, the royal couple would know he had brought a guest and what he had refused to let anyone else touch his things. He hugged the potted plant closer to his chest before leveling a glare at the Mandalorian.

Myles flashed him a smile before turning to study the Kiffar in the room. It was perhaps a small favor that Quinlan looked nothing like a traditional Jedi in his clothing options. Dark leather pants, a snug shirt that looked like it had belonged to a smuggler, and a brown vest. The vest was probably how he was hiding his lightsaber, Obi-Wan thought. Wise.

“Jango wasn’t aware he’d be housing two people, planning on sharing a bed?" Myles asked in a neutral tone that still somehow made Obi-Wan squirm. The Pantoran was hiding unease well as far as he could tell, but there was a strange jealous feeling that coiled in the air. His earrings warmed against his ear in a distracting way.

Quinlan opened his mouth, most likely to say something horribly sarcastic, so Obi-wan interrupted instantly. Diplomatic incident hopefully averted with his words. “He is my emotional support vod.” Not exactly a lie. “Quin Ohnaka.” He could feel the pure amusement from Quinlan. The emotion rubbed against him rather like a tooka would and he had to fight the urge to smile. Hondo was going to be thrilled when he heard the news, even if it was fake.

“I assume the reason you left so suddenly last night?” Myles moved closer to the bed and Obi-Wan found himself freezing as the other leaned closer. A hand came up towards his face and then a thumb was gently brushed across his cheek. Heat flared from that touch. Quinlan let out a faint whistle from behind them, clearly enjoying whatever was happening. “You clearly didn’t go to bed last night after my di’kut ordered you here.” He held up his thumb for inspection. Sparkling teal.

Kriff! He had thought he had removed all the makeup with a cloth before he had spent the night exchanging stories with both Quinlan and Hondo.

“Jango is in a meeting, dealing with the exile of Satine, but if you want to rest I can show your vod around?” Silence filled the space and then Obi-Wan burst out laughing before he could stop himself. Quinlan looked confused. Myles seemed to mull something over before he sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. “It isn’t funny, Ben, the poor dear has been accused of thieving.” The way those golden eyes twinkled clearly told the tale of just how funny Myles thought the downfall of Satine was.

Obi-Wan swallowed his next laugh and tried his best to look ashamed.

Suddenly a trilling sound filled the space and Quinlan muttered an apology for his comm going off. A sense of unease started to grow in his stomach at that interruption. The Jedi were most likely calling Quin and that meant he was trapped in the palace. He was, he had to admit, fine with that suddenly. He didn’t exactly want to run into Qui-Gon Jinn and whoever had managed to somehow earn the spot he had once coveted.

“Quin-”

“Sorry, Ben, I have a job to get back to for the moment. I’ll send a message when I’m free.” Quinlan bowed to Myles, who was merely watching the Jedi with interest while rubbing his thumb and finger together. Teal was vanishing slowly between the fingers. Obi-Wan finally shifted off the bed, handing the plant to Myles without a second thought, and practically threw himself at his friend. Quinlan caught him in an embrace easily enough and even went as far as to press a kiss to his temple. “I’ll be back, promise. You can’t get me out of your life now, future royal.”

Obi-Wan let out a near wet sounding laugh and shifted enough to press his forehead against Quin’s. “You are awful. Please be safe, vod.”

When he was finally alone with Myles he found himself standing there with an aching heart.

Then life moved on.

Was life moving on?

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?" Myles asked softly. The sound of the man moving around the room was oddly soothing. The plant was carefully placed near a window from what he could sense.

“What makes you ask that?” He rubbed at his cheeks with both hands and made a face at the remnants of teal that came away. Kriffing glimmer, never fully went away. He should have picked warpaint without glimmer. Myles was suddenly in front of him and using his own sleeve to rub the last bits of warpaint away. The sensation was strange, making him scrunch his nose up in mild annoyance, but he didn't pull away. The last time anyone had cleaned his face off like that had been when he was a youngling.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, Ben. I’ve seen you wear a mask that is freakishly unemotional, but right now?” Myles grabbed his chin and turned his face slightly to one side then the other as he checked to see if any of the glimmer remained. “You look like you are breaking.”

Something felt like it shattered inside of him at those words and he had to bite back a sound. When had he become so open around Myles?

Why was nothing making sense anymore?

“Quin thought… there was an accident when I was younger and he was sadly informed I died. We’ve only recently reconnected.” Not a lie, just a manipulation of the truth. Myles frowned at him before leaning down to press their foreheads together. Obi-Wan froze instantly. This felt different than what he had done with Quinlan, this felt way more personal. Intimate even.

“Jango was a bit...aggressive in how he got you here, but Ben, please believe me when I say we don’t want to ever break your heart. Quin is always welcome to visit, just warn us. We have an educated guess about how Satine was framed for thieving and she will most likely come to that conclusion as well. You played a dangerous game, though amusing, and Jango thanks you for removing her from the board, but now you have to face the consequences of what you did.”

Ah, so this was partly because he had planted stolen items on the prissy pacifist. The Jedi information had merely sealed his fate then, drat.

“I don’t like it,” he finally settled on saying and Myles burst out laughing.

“Cyar’ika, I expected nothing less. Now, come on, I’ll give you the tour, and then we can join Jango for lunch.”

Chapter Text

Life, maybe, wasn't so bad.

The palace had a library and there were quite a few times someone had to forcibly remove him from the stacks. Obi-Wan thought it was a crime to give him access to so many books and then make him stop his consumption of knowledge with trivial things like eating or sleep. The only thing that would have made the library better, in his opinion, was plants. Jango had given him a blank look when he suggested that during a sparring session.

Obi-Wan was a simple man that just wanted to be surrounded by plants and books.

His life was falling into a routine, one where someone was always trailing behind him. A protection detail. He was polite, offered to share snacks with whoever was stuck babysitting him, and even felt a faint sprinkling of guilt when he lost them. He was starting to get the feeling the various Mandalorians were actually taking bets on just how long they could keep an eye on him before he did something dramatic. Jumping out a third story window hadn't been his finest moment in hindsight.

"Ben, please," Jango said the morning after that stunt. "If I have to hear one more panicked comm about how you have thrown yourself off the roof there will be consequences. I will make you sit through all my meetings."

Jumping out of windows stopped after that. The amount of time spent in the training salle, however, increased. It seemed they had realized if he was training then they didn't have to stop him from escaping and he didn't exactly mind. Obi-Wan passed out hard each night and barely remembered the confusing dreams that visited him.

He had yet to be allowed back to his shop, but was assured that someone was minding the place. Obi-Wan rather felt like he was a bird in a very pretty gilded cage.

Quinlan visited, often, but it was the latest visit that had him spitting a mouthful of water out in surprise.

"You did what?" he hissed out.

"I said while you've been playing prince, I convinced Jinn to make a visit to the Mand'alor. He is going to request an audience," Quinlan repeated calmly while flicking water off his knee. Obi-Wan regretted not spitting the water in his friend's amused face.

"Quin, there are several problems with this. Jedi aren't exactly looked well upon here. The general consensus is that Jedi are cold, meddle, and should stay out of the Empire." Obi-Wan rested the bottle on his thigh as he tried to figure out how to warn Myles before Qui-Gon made his request. "Also, I am not playing prince." Quinlan eyed his new clothing and raised an eyebrow to show how much he did not agree with that particular statement. It wasn't his fault that he had needed clothes appropriate for fighting in or for going to more fancy events. He had no say over what the tailor shoved at him. "Master Jinn might recognize me and...people here are not exactly aware of who I am."

"...I'm sure it will be fine, vod. I doubt Jango is going to subject you to the meeting between the Jedi and Mandalore."

Quinlan Vos was painfully wrong.

He couldn't quite bring himself to admit to the Mandalorians that he was a failed Jedi. They wouldn't believe him, the pirate remark had proved that. So Obi-Wan was being very much forced to be at the meeting after the call came. The royal couple simply hadn't known it was a bad idea to require him to be present.

He had opted to line his eyes with amethyst and painted a matching line across his face again for this whole ordeal. If he was going to stare his trauma in the face then he would do so on his terms. The silver shirt he wore was softer than he had originally thought it would be and it had the added bonus of being very not Jedi. Fine embroidery went up the sleeves, coiling leaves and flowers, and it screamed of self indulgence.

The kyber cuffs on his ears gave him pause. Did he remove them? Did he care? Myles arriving to escort him to the meeting made the decision for him. Earrings stayed.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Myles asked with a faint teasing tone.

"Do what?" Obi-Wan looked up at him with mild confusion. The man was taller than him and Jango, and Obi-Wan was barely taller than the Mand'alor.

"Your warpaint matches me."

"...kriff."

Myles burst out laughing and didn't stop until they were all in the throne room. He should have gone with teal again. Why had he picked a shade of purple?

Quin was still, thankfully, playing the part of his brother and had assured him that Qui-Gon knew he was undercover in the court, which meant the Jedi would act like they didn't know Quin. Jango had allowed him to be in on the meeting after Obi-Wan had offered a private dinner between the royal couple and himself. Quin, of course, had joked Obes had sold himself when no one else was around to hear.

He felt sick to his stomach.

Who was the Padawan?

This would be fine, he would merely ignore the Jedi and lie if they somehow recognizd him. He could do this.

He could do this.

His thoughts came to a horrible stop when he watched the Jedi Master walk in like he owned the place. Time had greyed the hair more, but it was still Qui-Gon Jinn.

The man walking towards them all had left him behind.

Maybe he would have behaved, maybe he would have not moved, but Qui-Gon's gaze went to him and then dismissed him with painful ease. Nothing, he was still nothing to the Jedi.

No recognition.

Then life went on.

A Jedi was calm, they found balance. A Jedi did not give into their emotions, but it was extremly unfortunate for all involved that he was no longer a member of that Order.

He had been sitting on the steps below Jango's throne and then he was just moving. He could hear Quinlan yelling at him, he could sense Myles restraining Jango suddenly. He didn't care, no, all Obi-Wan cared about was the feeling of his fist slamming straight into the stomach of the man that had left him for dead.

The kyber hummed with glee.

"Oh, kark," Quinlan cried while wrapping arms around his waist in an attempt to stop any further attack.

"Ben," Jango's voice carried like thunder and he paused with his arm pulled back. He had been about to break Qui-Gon's nose and the unspoken command of the Mand'alor had him freezing.

"I wanted to see where this was going," Myles said in a cheerful tone. "I've never witnessed our Ben quite so feral. Couldn't you have waited one moment more?"

"We had a better greeting with the New Mandalorians," the cultured voice of the Padawan next to Jinn said with clear disdain. Obi-Wan's gaze jerked towards the source and found himself wishing he hadn't. Lips curled into a smug smile on a familiar face. "Well, well, looks like you can't even manage to stay dead properly, Oafy-Wan."

Quinlan swore even louder and Obi-Wan realized several things at once. He had yet to tell Jango and Myles about his past, he had lost his temper, and he still very much hated Bruck Chun. A laugh escaped him at the whole madness of the situation.

The kyber was thrumming hotly against his ear now.

"Him?" He turned his gaze towards Qui-Gon, who was now staring at him with a look he couldn't decipher. "You left me to die so you could pick him?"

"I did not-"

And then an arm shot past his face just before a gloved fist slammed straight into Qui-Gon's nose. A snapping sound filled the space just before the blood appeared. The Master stumbled back a step, clutching at his face, while Bruck rushed to his side.

Rage, pure rage, was against his back. Obi-Wan spun, wrapping his arms tightly around Quinlan and began trying to whisper reassurances.

A Jedi had to find balance, Quin had to find balance.

A throat cleared before Jango spoke in a displeased tone. "Ben, I think you forgot to tell us something."

Obi-Wan had the confused thought that the Mandalorians were taking his side without even knowing the full story. They hadn't yelled at him, hadn't accused him of destroying the relationship between the two people further. No, Jango merely seemed annoyed there had been secrets.

"Ben," Bruck scoffed. "What a dumb name you've picked for yourself." He was holding a cloth to his Master's nose while he glared at Obi-Wan.

"I...can explain," he breathed out as he watched the royal couple over Quinlan's shoulder. They didn't seem angry, just concerned. Why weren't they angry? "But I request the Jedi are not present for this."

Bruck made a sound of disagreement, but stopped when Qui-Gon placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think I would appreciate seeing a healer," the man said serenely. One wouldn't know he had just been punched if not for all the blood.

Chapter Text

A flower could have fallen in the room and echoed with how silent it was after the Jedi were escorted away. Everyone was waiting on him to talk and he didn't know where to start. He had, by omission, lied to Jango and Myles. How did he explain his violent reaction to the Jedi?

Hondo would have been thrilled no doubt.

The pirate had seen first hand what Bandomeer had done to Obi-Wan and had for years talked about getting some sort of revenge. Well, now he could tell Hondo he had gotten some revenge. Obi-Wan kept tugging at the cuff of his left sleeve while staring at the toes of his boots, nerves eating at him slowly.

He had lost his temper.

He knew he would do it all again.

Obi-Wan wanted to make Qui-Gon hurt like he had.

He wanted to forget the man existed.

Obi-Wan was having yet another bad day.

Quinlan finally reached out and grabbed his hands. Ah, he was definitely not hiding his emotions well. How the Council would have scolded him, he thought warily. "Hey," his friend said softly. "It wasn't all you. I punched him too." Obi-Wan's lips twitched with an almost smile. The visual of that gloved fist slamming into Qui-Gon's face did help sooth something inside of him. He was also pleased Quin felt less tremulous in the Force, the vines of darkness easing away from both of them. "And...I should have warned you Chun was here. I'm sorry, I sort of repressed what a real sleemo he was. I realized my mistake when you started yelling."

"You did," he finally admitted. "But...it is more than us ruining the meeting before it started. And, it is fine. I mean I did my best to forget him too." He wrinkled his nose in mild annoyance before letting a slow sigh escape. He couldn't put this off much longer, even if he was a tad tempted to jump out of a window to run away. He could have Hondo take him anywhere, settle somewhere else- except he couldn't. Obi-Wan owed people an explanation and he had to face the truth. He gave Quinlan a melancholy smile before freeing his hands. This somehow felt worse than anything else he had ever done and he knew it was the guilt. He hadn't meant for things to end up like this.

He stepped around Quinlan and held his chin high as he gazed up at Myles and Jango.

"Ohnaka is the name of the man who rescued me," he said calmly. Kyber hummed encouragingly as he clasped his hands behind his back. "I did try to tell you I was a retired pirate, but I failed to tell you how I found myself the son of Hondo Ohnaka. I mean, in my defense, you thought I was jesting so I thought it pointless to elaborate."

Myles eyes widened before the man swore. "I knew your last name was familiar!" Jango shifted enough to knock the side of his boot against the side of his riduur's boot. "Apologies, continue." Myles didn't look the least bit apologetic, but Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly anyway before doing as told.

"I was given to the Order as a youngling and I parted ways with them when I was twelve," he twisted his fingers together and knew only Quin could see the action. He hadn't actively talked about his life in a long time and now he was pulling the most cruel parts front and center in his mind, fidgeting was going to happen. The more traumatic parts didn't need to come to light, at least not yet. "The Jedi that have arrived both had a slight hand in my becoming a pirate."

Jango ran his hand over his lower face before his shoulders sank a fraction. "Ben, that was the reaction of someone who has trauma echoes. Do you need to talk with a Listener?"

Obi-Wan could only stare up at them as the very ground beneath his feet seemed to shift. That wasn't the reaction he had been expecting in any shape or form. He had just said he had been a fledgling Jedi and fully admitted he had kept it from them. He was a viper amongst them and they wanted to offer him help?

"Ben," Myles moved down the steps. "You are doing it again." Breaking. He was breaking again. His whole body tensed just before he was yanked into an embrace.

"Where did your buir rescue you from?" Jango asked the question with great care. Obi-Wan finally returned Myles' hug and debated how to answer that question. The next words out of his mouth, depending on how much said, would potentially ruin the relationship between Mandalore and the Order. And I have little love for the Jedi. Faces he had stopped recalling ages ago bubbled up unwillingly. Kind, laughing, joking, sneering. Friends and not quite friends.

There were good Jedi out there, kind ones, ones that were both passionate and caring. Quinlan Vos was a Jedi and had clearly shown he had emotions. The two that had arrived here were merely one version of the face that the Jedi presented to the galaxy.

When he pulled away from the embrace he found that Myles shifted to stand just a little behind him and to the left. He had seen the Mandalorian do so many times when walking with Jango. Support. Watching his back.

How odd.

Right, time to answer the question.

"What I say," he said with durasteel in his tone. "Does not reflect on the Order as a whole. They are trying, they merely do not always understand, but… Master Jinn left me on Bandomeer. That is where my Captain found me."

Silence stretched, almost as if waiting for Obi-Wan to say more, but no one ordered him to explain more. Jango looked like he was thinking everything over, his gaze drifting towards the door that Jinn and Chun had left through.

"Answer me honestly," the Mand'alor ordered as he stood up from his seat, gaze focusing painfully on him. Obi-Wan could feel the change in the air instantly as the mere presence of the man demanded his whole attention. He got the faint impression that if he somehow didn't give the right answer then he'd find himself destroyed. He could now see how Jango had become a Mand'alor that people followed. "Would you betray me? Would you betray Myles?"

"What?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. Quinlan let out a tiny sound, almost like the honk of a gosling, but wisely didn't say a word. That was most certainly not what he had been expecting to be asked and he rather thought Quin's noise had been made in confusion as well. He had thought there would be more questions about his past or the Jedi. Kark, he had even thought there would be questions about Hondo. Now he was staring at Jango with mild confusion. He narrowed his eyes a fraction as the man stalked over towards him.

"Will you betray us?" Jango repeated his question again as he stopped just a little too close. The toes of their boots were practically touching. He titled his face down slightly so he could meet the other's gaze fully.

"No," Obi-Wan said honestly while his kyber became a steady warmth against his ear. "I would never betray you or Myles, Mand'alor." The smile that appeared before him was victorious and it distracted him from the faint sense of warning. Jango grabbed his face, thumbs smearing through the amethyst, and slammed their foreheads together. He stumbled backward in surprise, but Myles instantly pressed a steadying hand to his lower back.

"Like I said," Quinlan finally said. "Prince of Mandalore."

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and mentally cursed his friend. Myles merely snorted with laughter and no one denied the claim made in jest. "I am a mere shopkeeper-" The defense died on his lips when he found them covered by Jango's. His mind blanked completely at the action as warmth shot through his body. I think I'm being courted. Well, okay then. Message finally received. He was definitely being courted by the royal couple. He hesitated and then returned the kiss. The whole thing was soft, new, and rather nice. He felt like he had just fallen straight into a field of lilacs when Jango pulled away.

"I think," Myles said with a smirk evident in his voice. "We might want to rethink how we present ourselves for their return. Ben has already shown he will rip their faces off, so might I suggest he actually sit directly at your feet, Alor? That way you can grab him before he attacks anyone."

Obi-Wan blinked and then scowled. He wasn't that bad! Jango took one look at his displeasure and burst out laughing. The affectionate pat of a hand against his cheek had him looking even more annoyed. "I think you are right. After this is done, Ben, you aren't going to keep secrets from us, lek?"

And he felt the cage door slide completely shut. Obi-Wan was never going to escape the palace now, and well, he wasn't entirely sure he really wanted to anymore.

Kriff, this was all so confusing.

Chapter Text

Jango was slouching in his throne, a leg thrown over one of the arms, and he couldn't quite hide the smug smile on his face. His elbow on the other arm of the seat propped him up thanks to the fact he rested his chin on a fist. He could feel how irritated Ben was, the tension bleeding through clearly in the man's posture. He had taken Myles' suggestion to heart. Ben wasn't technically flush against the throne since he was a step down, but that merely gave Jango the opportunity to rest his other foot against a shoulder like a foot rest. This meant the red headed menace was trapped at the foot of the throne. He was beyond thrilled, though that could have also just been a left over feeling thanks to finally kissing his shopkeeper.

"This is hardly necessary," Ben bit out.

"On the contrary, I think this is very necessary," Myles remarked in a dry tone, but Jango knew the man was amused. "We are trying to stop any further incidents from happening."

"I know how to behave," came the indignant retort. Jango simply tapped the heel of his boot against the shoulder and enjoyed how Ben snorted in annoyance.

"If you knew how to behave you wouldn't jump out windows or attack people," Ben's vod actually said in a very matter of fact way. He had been flexing his hand slightly ever since he had slammed it right into the jetii's face. Quin Ohnaka was a confusing person and one that moved like he was made of shadows. Where Ben was silence in movement, his vod was the complete absence of sound. He assumed the man was actually a jetii and that the way Ben moved had been taught by the Order. Well, at least the foundation, the pirates had most likely helped create how he moved today.

He was willing to give Quin a pass if he actually was a jetii because that had been one mean right hook.

"I am feeling a tad outnumbered," came the annoyed grumble and even Jango had to laugh at that. All the laughter died, however, when the doors reopened to herald the return of the jettise. Any happiness cooled and Jango was left frowning.

He wasn't sure why they had even requested an audience with him. The answer wasn't Ben, not with how there had been no joyful reunion. Kark, there had been a moment where they didn't even seem to recognize the man at his feet. He didn't bother to hide the smirk that settled on his lips when he spotted the plaster strips on the older jetii's nose. Ah, his healers hadn't bothered to use bacta. Gossip was spreading quickly it seemed, most likely thanks to the verd'e who had been standing guard when Ben had lost control.

"Shall we skip the introductions, jetiise?" Myles formed the order as a question in a pleasant enough voice. It would have been friendly if not for the faint undercurrent of displeasure. "You requested an audience, which we thank you for, but we do not know exactly what this is in regards to."

Master Jinn's gaze went to Ben and Jango had to fight back the sudden urge to snarl at the man. A mere moment later and the jetii was gazing at him with a pleasant enough look on his face. A mask, Jango thought. He didn't trust Jinn. "We have reason to believe that some items belonging to the Order have made their way to your fine planet." Ben shifted his feet ever so faintly, crossing his ankles in a fidgety way, and Jango knew he was involved somehow.

"Oh," he spoke before Myles could. "And you thought to visit with Clan Kryze before you came to me? If I was a petty man I'd take insult." He knew he was going to get a half truth in response and when the other spoke he wasn't disappointed.

"A mere misunderstanding, I assure you," Qui-Gon said easily. "Padawan Chun-" Jango could feel the shock that exploded out of Ben. Ah, hearing that truth had to sting. He understood the padawans were aliit to the Masters, and Chun had basically stolen Ben's chance of having a family in the Order, though he'd have to ask for clarification later. Jango realized he didn't know enough about the jetiise and he needed to fix that. The jetii who was speaking actually faltered in his words for a second before continuing and he had to wonder if he had also felt the surprise. "Padawan Chun's landed our ship closer to their estates and we felt it prudent to ease things over." The snort that escaped Ben was crude sounding and Jango tapped his shoulder with his foot again as a reminder to behave.

"Ah," he finally said with all the enthusiasm of someone forced to watch paint dry. "Of course. It has nothing to do with the fact you were hoping to gather intel before you presented yourself to my court." Both jettise tensed a fraction and he flashed them a smile. Bullseye. "What is it you've misplaced this time? I don't think I am housing any other children that you left behind."

Qui-Gon actually did look a tad guilty, but Jango couldn't drum up any sympathy. He didn't like the jetiise in front of him and the more he talked with them? Well, the more he thought he should have let Ben break a few more bones. Jetiise skulked about and interfered in the name of the Republic. The only reason they were on Mandalore had to be for whatever was stolen. Manda forbid, they go some place and just help. He knew they had the means to help a planet regrow, but they would never make that effort here. Mandalore refused to bow to a corrupt Republic.

"The situation with Initiate Kenobi was a bit more extreme, I had thought he had died in the mines-" "Kark," Ben blurted out in horror before the sentence could be finished. Jango's eyes widened in pure surprise as he tried to wrap his head around what was just said. All other thoughts forgotten at once.

Mines.

Bandomeer and mines.

Ben had been a slave.

A low growl escaped him and Myles moved instantly to place a hand on his shoulder. An attempt at calming him, but a poor one. His riduur's hand was trembling and his other had clearly gone to the blaster at his hip. Ben hadn't brought up one crucial detail about his stay on Bandomeer it seemed and now they both wanted to destroy the older jetii.

"I suggest pleading your case quickly," fire backed his words. "Because I am half tempted to let Ben hit you again."

"Wait, wait," Quin finally spoke up. "You left my friend in a mine and came back to train Chun of all people? What the actual kriff? Did you even tell the Council?" The words barely registered with Jango, he was far too focused on imagining how he was going to kill Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Not that it is any of your concern, but they were made aware of the fact Initiate Kenobi was subjected to deep sea mining." Jango was pretty sure he now knew what it meant to see red. The more the jetii spoke, the worse the situation got. The survival rate was almost nonexistent for that type of mining and Ben had said he was twelve when he was left behind.

Jango wanted to tear Qui-Gon Jinn in half with his bare hands.

"Please," Ben's voice was painfully soft. "Might we get back to the matter at hand?"

"A wise idea, young one," Master Jinn said, quickly latching onto the distraction, and Ben seemed to freeze. Quin let out a low hiss of what Jango could only assume was displeasure. "Several ancient texts have vanished from a dig site, along with a most peculiar plant. We were notified the pirates that had stolen them had landed somewhere in this vicinity."

And that was when Ben burst out laughing. Jango merely sighed and had to wonder where the charming botanist had the items hidden. Hadn't a strange potted arrived with him when he had been forcibly moved into the palace?

"Talk about no manners," the younger jetii muttered and Jango didn't even flinch as the sound of a blaster going off erupted next to his ear. Bruck glanced down at the new hole in the edge of his robe and paled. Myles was a spectacular marksman, but he rather thought that a smoking hole between the eyes would have been better.

"Padawan," Master Jinn sighed out. "We have talked about this."

"Sorry, Master," Bruck bowed his head in an apology, but Jango knew it wasn't sincere.

"Enough," Jango snapped. He was getting a headache and just wanted to yank Ben into his bed. The di'kut clearly needed to be held, to be comforted, and maybe fripped until he passed out. "I don't have whatever you couldn't protect. Pirates have been known to hide here and we deal with them as we see fit."

"Mand'alor," Master Jinn took a slight step forward. "Perhaps you are just not aware that these items have been brought here thanks to the civil unrest-"

"Is that how you refer to a terrorist group attacking innocents?" Ben said in that eerily serene tone. Jango was not amused that the pirate was clearly pretending that horrible things hadn't just been brought to light. He wanted to scream on the other's behalf, but here he was listening to the man debate with the karking man who had left him to die! Jetiise, even not quite ones, were so confusing. "I am sure you've heard how the best way to end this is to lay down all weapons and the problem will just solve itself?" Jango hummed faintly and fixed the jettise with a look.

"Yes, Miss Kryze-"

"It is suggesting cultural genocide as a means to control an issue," Ben offered up as if he was talking about tea. Jango was definitely yanking the red haired terror into his bed after this. "Are you, perhaps, also aware that her ideas when implemented would be no better then Death Watches, but also open this entire sector up to new horrors?"

"I fail to see how pacifism would lead to horror," Bruck said hotly. "If no one has weapons then-"

"Then they cannot defend themselves," Master Jinn said with a frown. "Ah, instead of focusing on the now in this matter you've looked to a future that would most likely happen. Pirates, slavers, even various cartel would move in."

"Exactly," Jango said as he pulled at the back of Ben's hair lightly. He was impressed and also annoyed. "If the jetiise wish to bother with what is going on here then I suggest they send someone other than you two. Otherwise, get the kark out of this sector."

"Mand'alor," Myles scolded half heartedly.

"I am being kind," Jango said in a bored tone. "It is simple jetiise, if you two show your faces around here again then the Order will get you back in pieces."

"Mand'alor," Master Jinn took a step forward and Jango pulled his blaster free. The man stopped moving. Good.

"Let me be clear. We cherish ade, we do whatever it takes to find them when we misplace them. Your careless handling of Ben is your death warrant. Master Jinn, I give you both a day. If you two aren't out of this sector by then? We start hunting."

"Alor," Ben breathed out and then winced when Jango tugged a little harder on some hair. "That-"

"No, we are done here. They are leaving and you are going to have to explain yourself," Myles stepped down a few steps so he was standing directly next to Ben. His glare was fully fixed on the jetiise. "My riduur has given you a boon. Start running and never come back."

Jango smirked as Master Jinn bowed first, then Padawan Chun followed, and then they both started walking quickly away.

"The Council is going to be upset," Quin breathed out and then found himself the focus of three gazes. Ah, Jango had been right, the vod was a jetii.

Chapter Text

He could only watch as Obi-Wan cried out in surprise, that and admire just how freakishly strong the Mand'alor actually was. The two looked like they were fresh out of a holoromancenovel. His poor friend was now being carried like a kriffing princess and complaining loudly while Jango stalked out of the throne room.

“This is hardly-” the complaining voice grew softer the further away they got and he shook his head ever so slightly. Quinlan was positive Obi-Wan was about to get a crash course in Mandalorian passion and his lips curled into a smirk. The poor pirate.

"I need to make a long-distance comm," he said while turning to Myles. “Can you show me or do you need to join that-” He motioned to the door that Jango had left through with Obes. Myles raised an eyebrow but didn’t rise to the clear bait.

"To warn your Council about the half-truth we just discovered?" the other asked before motioning towards a different side door. Boring, he had been hoping to make the other flustered.

"That and to ask some questions," Quinlan confirmed, getting right back on track. His report to any of the council members was far more important than teasing one half of the royal couple. One third? It was probably one third now, what with Obi-Wan doing everything exactly right on accident to win them over. Myles insisted on staying by his side for the call, which he thought odd. He got the impression the other would rather be where Jango and Obes were, but he wasn’t going to pry further.

He was impressed when he finally stood in front of the long-range communicator. The thing was practicality sparkling from how well kept it was. He had heard, along with most younglings, that Mandalorians were brash and cared little for anything but war. Stories told of warriors that wouldn't stop to see if a Jedi meant harm or not. His time on Mandalore had proved startlingly informative. He saw a diverse culture that, while embracing war, favored history and art. The various wall hangings he had got to study while around Obi-Wan let him know just how wrong things he had learned growing up were.

The Mandalorians, it seemed, were full of all sorts of surprises.

It didn’t take long for his call to connect and he cursed the fact it was Mace that picked up. They often clashed heads and, honestly, he preferred dealing with Plo Koon. He should have called Master Tholme…

"Master Windu," Quinlan barreled right past any pleasantries, cutting off an attempt at the other’s greeting. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is alive and I need to know what the Council actually knows about Bandomeer."

A pinched expression appeared on the face of the Master Jedi before he seemed to study Quinlan. "Is Obi-Wan with you?"

"I think he is getting fripped by the Mand'alor, but I can go get him if you need to see him-" He winced as Myles kicked him in the shin. Oh, now he got why the other insisted on being present for the call.

"Vos," Mace breathed out like a swear word. "Mind yourself.” The older man rubbed his forehead with a hand, clearly not amused by this holocall. Quinlan didn’t blame him, not with what he was most likely going to have to say in response to whatever nonsense Jinn had told the Council. “Give me a moment,” Mace said as he shifted to grab a datapad. His fingers moved quickly as he typed something into the device. Most likely the file on what he was requesting, Quinlan mused. “As for the report of Bandomeer… we were informed that Initiate Kenobi died upon entering the mining platform. We sent a pair to investigate, but when we arrived- the mine was abandoned, in ruins, and all records destroyed. They did not sense any Force signatures remaining on Bandomeer."

Myles crossed his arms over his chest while a look of near anger settled on his features.

Whoops, the Mandalorian wasn’t impressed with Master Windu it seemed. Well, that or the really short report on the death of one Obi-Wan Kenobi. That really didn't put the Order in a good light.

“I have a story to tell you,” Quinlan leaned closer as he grinned viciously. The next hour was spent reporting everything he knew, sometimes with Myles chiming in, while a portion was also spent answering questions. Actually, it was safe to say most of it was answering questions that revolved around Qui-Gon and Bruck.

When the call ended he was frowning deeply and couldn’t help the feeling he had just created a real troublesome storm for Jinn and Chun. Good, he hoped they got in trouble.

“I need to go see my riduur and you are coming with me, I can’t have you wandering the halls alone,” Myles remarked before striding off. Quinlan had to practically run to catch up. It seemed the fact he had lied was not forgotten judging from how Myles was acting. They walked quickly, not a word said between them, and he was a tad relieved when he was being shown into a suite he didn’t recognize. Kriff, his side hurt from speeding walking so much. Why did the man have such long legs?

“Stay here, touch nothing,” Myles ordered with a finger wave. Quinlan rather felt like a youngling again and couldn’t help the mocking salute he gave. The second most powerful man on Mandalore rolled his eyes before vanishing into what he assumed was the bedroom portion of the royal suite. His fingers itched underneath his gloves as he glanced around. There were clearly war trophies about, but also things he hadn't quite expected. Flowers, books, a small figurine of a krayt dragon. He wanted to pull a glove off and hold the globe of glass that held a frozen spiral of what looked like snow inside, what story would he sense from that object?

He didn’t get to sate his curiosity any before the door was opening again, but it was Jango who walked through instead of Myles. Quin’s eyes widened a fraction as the Mand’alor adjusted the tunic he was wearing. That was very much not what he had been wearing in the throne room. Sith spit, they really had fripped!

“Where is Obi-wan?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. Jango raised an eyebrow before glancing over his shoulder at the bedroom door that was closing behind him. Kriff, he had been so distracted by the man and his own surprise he had failed to try and look around him!

“Ben is sleeping,” Jango said finally as he turned to meet his gaze with a faintly smug look on his face.

“In your bed,” the words toppled off his tongue roughly. He internally winced since he was doing an amazing job of sounding like a youngling at the moment. All of his training and years of experience were dancing just outside of his reach it seemed. In his defense, it had been one insane day so far. He needed a drink and maybe a hug. A snort of amusement, thankfully, escaped the other man. Jango didn’t seem phased by the remark at all, instead, he merely crossed his arms over his chest.

“He is, he was rather worn out. Myles said you talked with your Council. I already sent some jetiise away, tell me why I shouldn’t send you away as well.” He could taste the challenge in those words and his fingers twitched in response.

“I am loyal to him,” he said carefully. “I thought he was dead and now I don’t want to lose him again.” Quinlan meant it too. He had duties in the Order, a youngling to watch over, but he didn’t want to have to pick between the lives. He wanted Obi-Wan in his life again. The day his friend had been sent away was still a scar on his mind. Everyone had been different when the news of Obi-Wan’s death came back, even Bruck had been different. The tormentor had seemed guilty at first and then Qui-Gon twisted him. Maybe it was a small blessing that Obes had escaped that life? What would have happened if he had become a padawan? He realized he was getting caught up in his thoughts and winced faintly. That was rude and stupid of him. When he glanced at Jango he discovered the man was merely watching him while frowning ever so slightly.

“Ben calls you vod. It would do more harm than good at this point to let you leave. Which puts me with a slight problem,” Jango titled his head faintly to the side and studied him. “You were the one who tipped off the jetiise, weren't you?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “That was before I realized he was involved or alive.”

“Mm. How do I know you won’t feed them more information?”

Ouch. That was a valid question and one that made him uncomfortable. Quinlan shifted slightly as he took a moment to actually think his answer over. “I didn’t lie when I said I am loyal to him. I will do nothing to harm Obi-Wan or those he cares about and...and if that means lying to protect him, then so be it.”

Jango narrowed his eyes for a moment before nodding. “Then I guess you can stay, but we are restricting your outside communication for the time being. You are to remain by Ben’s side, am I clear?”

“...yes, sir.” He had gotten off easier than he thought he would. Obi-Wan really did have quite a bit of power here it seemed, good for him.

“That’s Mand’alor or Alor to you.”

Chapter Text

Hey! I have finally taking this story out of timeout... after five-ever. I didn't want to fully abandon it, but I had to figure out how to do what I wanted with it.

I've chopped chapters off and am going to be re-writing everything after chapter 15, telling the story I want. I know a lot of you love this story, and that means a lot to me, but now I want to get back to the part where I love this story. I wrote something I wasn't happy with, tried to recover from it, and continued to get eaten alive about it... and also was told I lost the plot.

This sandcastle has been something 😅

I'm sorry and thank you.

Stay safe, stay healthy, but most of all? Continue to do what sparks joy.