Archive of Our Own

Jango didn’t know what sick experiment this was, be he was already done with it.  

Waking up strapped to a sloped alter was never ideal, after all.  

He remembered arriving on the deeply forested, reportedly uninhabited planet, and heading to the co-ordinates the tracking fob was leading him to. The Temple was grand, though over-run with plant life and crumbling as the planet tried to reclaim it. It was beautiful, in an odd way, and he suspected it must have been magnificent once upon a time.   

He’d stopped at the entrance to look up at the mossy and vine covered stature, trying to determine what it depicted under the vegetation. He could make out a buy’ce , the T-visor typical of his own people, on one of the two figures, stood together, back-to-back. The other was not in beskar’gam, but he couldn’t work out more than that.  

He didn’t even remember getting through the door before he was, he guessed, stunned from behind.  

This is what you get for taking bounties on so little information, a voice in his mind suspiciously like his buir’s mused.   

He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he wasn’t alone, not referring to the cultists, but the other prisoner, strapped to the alter opposite his.  

In another circumstance, Jango might have found them cute. They were redhead, still a little baby-faced, but probably around the same age as him. Strong build, muscular and battle-scarred bare chest, yet soft, gorgeous features, yeah, in another situation Jango would be all over them.  

Not here.  

The other prisoner was still asleep, so Jango took time to look around the room.  

Or at least he tried to, there was a brazier above them, a warm glow, but not enough to illuminate much more than the two of them. The rest of the room was cloaked in shadows, though he was certain he could see the outlines of statues and the glinting reflection of the firelight in other braziers in the room.  

There was a groan opposite him, and the other began to wake.  

“Oh kriff me,” they muttered, and Jango couldn’t help but quirk a smile, keeping the “maybe later”s, and “it would be my pleasure”s off his lips. 

Their eyes raced around the room, before focusing on Jango, equally bound and bare chested.  

“Hello there.”  

“Good morning,” he was guessing the time of day, but given that the redhead had just woken, he decided it worked, “Jango, he/him.”  

“Obi-Wan, he/him. I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I'd have preferred it under better circumstances.”  

You and me both, beautiful, he couldn’t help but think. It could have been very pleasurable to meet in another circumstance.  

“I get that. How did you end up here?”  

“Believe it or not, it was somewhat intentional. I came to investigate the ruins here, the cultists and,” he wiggled his wrists in the cuffs, “this... not part of the plan.”  

“I can believe it. I came here for a bounty, same outcome. My buir’s going to laugh at me for this, I can feel it.”  

“You’re Mando’ade , beroya?”  

“Lek, you speak Mando’a? Are you Mando’ade?”  

“No, but I've done some research over the years, and I love to learn languages.”  

High Coruscanti accent, but knowns Mando’a . Again, if they weren’t bound to alters in a creepy temple, he’d have been attracted. He wondered who Obi-Wan was exactly, to be a researcher , but have muscles and scars like he did.  

“My knowledge of Mando’a and some parts of Mandalorian culture are actually the reason I was sent here, this Temple. It has Mandalorian history, scripture in Mando’a , which the other researcher couldn’t read. Though, that’s not why you’re here?”  

“ Nyac , though my buir might be interested in that. I came on a fob, DNA, no photo, probably a fake name. If I had to guess, I was lured here.”  

“I believe I was too, the person who commed me to come here was dead when I arrived. Long dead. I don’t know who sent the message, but it wasn’t them.”  

Before Jango could respond, there was a whomph sound as all the braziers in the room lit suddenly and at the same time, ghostly blue-white flames lighting the whole room so well he had to close his eyes and blink a few times to adapt.  

He didn’t know why, and he rather blamed the holonet , but if someone had said crazy cultists, he’d have thought of masks and cloaks and stupidly drapey sleeves.   

Naked except for body paint and gilded metal ornamentations that wrapped around limbs and the torso and barely provided most of them with some modesty... it would not have come to mind.  

They spilled into the hall, some carrying bowls or jars, some with blades, some with long winds of coloured fabrics.  

He yanked at his restraints, but they gave no more than they had any other time he’d tried.  

“Behold!” cried one of the cultists, “The Devine Pair!”  

“The Devine Pair!” the rest echoed.  

Yeah, he was l iking this less and less.  

He was so well bound he could not struggle more than wiggle as they approached, tilting the alter until he was at an angle almost vertical. There was nothing he could do bur grimace as the pin pressed deep into his finger, and his hand was held over a bowl until a few drops of blood had entered the mixture within it, then repeated with a second bowl.   

Then the two groups traded the bowls and started painting his body with symbols and swirls of the cold and bitty paint, silver and gold, likely containing the blood of the man opposite him.  

Looking over, he could see the same being done to Obi-Wan, their moving onto painting his face the only warning Jango got before the brush touched his own cheek.  

When they were done painting him, intricate patterns of swirls and lines, they all backed away, moving off to prepare something else. It sat uncomfortably on his body, and was hardening already. Obi-Wan looked the exact same, although mirrored, save for one thing.  

Over Obi-Wan's heart, he could see the Mereel sigil clear and well defined. On his own heart, looking down as best he could, was a symbol he loathed. 

The Jetiise Order.  

Taking another look around the room, this time illuminated, he saw he’d been right about the statues, and that they were not what he’d been expecting.  

One on each side of the large hall, arms stretched as though reaching for one another, the braziers hung in a dotted line between the two.   

One Mando, one Jetii .  

That had been the statue outside, and was depicted similarly on all the murals around the room, on the ceiling, on the walls... a Jetii and a Mandalorian, back-to-back, in Keldabe kiss, being held apart and clawing to get to each other.  

Which meant Obi-Wan was a Jetii.  

The cultists returned to them, this time holding the strips of fabric. The first one went to his left ankle, the second to his right, then one on each wrist, and one around his throat, not tight enough to choke, but noticeable .  

Instead of separate fabrics on Obi-Wan, he realised they were the same strips, drawn taut between the two of them, binding them together.   

If he could not escape the restraints before, he was certainly going to struggle now. It felt like moving his head even slightly would choke them both, and he wondered if the material would stretch if they were lain back down again, or if they’d both be strangled.  

Then the chanting started, and to his horror, the paint started tingling and glowing. The world felt as though it was freezing and burning, tearing and being re-made, spinning and turning light and dark.  

Then just dark.  

.  

.  

.  

Jango felt weird when he woke.  

He couldn’t describe it, except that his anger and frustration were normal, but his fear and sorrow felt... doubled.  

It didn’t make sense, and it defied description, but none the less, he felt weird.  

The bed was comfortable, and it sank with the weight of another body, just out of reach.  

“Jango?”  

He blinked open his eyes, the last day rushing back in a flood.  

The false bounty, the cultists, the ritual... Obi-Wan.  

Jetii!  

“What... what did they do to us?”  

“I... I'm not sure. How do you feel?”  

“Weird, tingly. Shouldn't you know what they did, aren’t you a Jetii?”  

He felt a flash of worry and frustration , but couldn’t work out where it was coming from.   

“I said I wasn’t sure, not that I had no idea.”  

Looking around, he tried to make sense of the room they were in, avoiding the Jetii’s gaze. It was grand, that was to be sure, with drapes of fabric and tapestries on the walls, stringed lights and candles, and they were both on a huge bed, covered in fine sheets and blankets, surrounded by pillows and cushions of varying sizes. There were chairs and tables, but everything looked to be soft.  

The whole room felt as though it was supposed to radiate comfort, and the biggest comfort he could find was his Beskar’gam , stacked neatly on a chair.  

When he’d imagined sharing a bed with the pretty redhead, this hadn’t been what he’d had in mind.  

Not with a Jetii.  

“Ok, Jetii, what do you think they did?”  

“I think... no, I don’t think, I know. They have tied our souls. I'm doing my best to shield you from what I'm thinking and feeling, but I’m afraid I don’t think I'm blocking it all.”  

Oh, oh Ka’ra , that... he hadn’t even known that was possible, and the emotions that felt fuzzy, being someone else's...   

His soul was tied to a jetii , he was stuck with a jetii!  

“Can we break it?”  

“No.”  

“No! What do you mean no!”  

“It’s a Life Bond, Mando, as in, for life.”  

The Jetii wasn’t lying, per say, he could feel it, somehow, though there was something left off. He could feel some of the Jetii’s emotions, and he could feel the Jetii . Even not looking at him, he somehow knew he was sitting up, brushing his hair out of his face, which was crinkled with thought.  

He was tied to a Jetii . Permanently .   

A wave of calm washed over him, and his panic subsided. Not completely, but enough to start thinking.  

He wondered if the Jetii had done it to help him, or because his own emotions were distressing the Jetii . He didn’t have magic Force shields, after all.  

Anger welled up inside him.  

“ Well what can we do. I can’t have a ‘life bond’ with some Jetii.”  

“You think I wanted a Life Bond with a Mando. This isn’t some petty bond, this is the most serious type of Soul Bond there is. You feel an emotion, I feel it, you feel pain, I feel it. One of us dies, so does the other!”  

His life was tied to the life of a Jetii !   

Kriff that!  

But... but Obi-Wan said it couldn’t be broken.  

He would at least try to be civil, then.  

“Let me introduce myself properly. Jango Fett,”  

“ Ad’be’Alor to Mandalore , I know who you are.”  

He bristled.  

“Oh, and you?”  

“Jedi Archivist Obi-Wan Kenobi.”  

“Archivist?”  

“Like I said, I was here for research. I help run the archives, put together mission intelligence packets, I help with political negotiation sometimes and I also run the Order’s humanitarian missions from a logistical sense, but... yeah, my title is Archivist.”  

“I thought all Jetiise were warriors.”  

“Many are, if they’re Knights. We also have healers and teachers and artists and pilots and chefs and all sorts. I never want to head into a fight on purpose.”  

“You’re a pacifist. Not only was my soul bonded to a Jetii, but one that doesn’t fight.”  

“I have no qualm with others choosing to fight, sometimes it’s necessary, I just can’t bring myself to go to battle or to war. I can help people in other ways, and I'll fight to defend, but I don’t want to kill. There is an old saying in the Jedi. To be a pacifist is to choose peace. We believe that to choose peace you must know how to fight. If you are incapable of doing harm, defending yourself, harming others, however you may see it, you’re not a pacifist, you’re defenceless.”  

“I suppose that makes some sense. So, you know more about this stuff than I do, what are we?”  

“Are we?”  

“What does the bond mean? Are we friends, family, is it going to object to relationships or something?”  

“I suppose Soul Mates is a term for it, because our souls are matched, most who choose this are in a committed romantic relationship, siblings wouldn’t swear a Life Bond... friends works, if that’s ok with you?”  

He nodded slowly. Friends.  

With a Jetii.  

With a magical mental bond.  

“You called me Ad’be’Alor. I assume that means you don’t agree with the Republics assessment of the Mandalorian political situation.”  

“You mean their backing the New Mandalorians, no, I don’t agree with it. I am a pacifist, I choose not to fight, but I do not try to force that on others. The Haat Mando’ade have the right to Mandalore, whether the Senate likes them or not. Besides, a system needs combat and defence, and negotiation and communication, if it is to thrive. If they get rid of Mandalore’s defence, Mandalore will likely fall.”  

Beautiful and smart, kriff .  

No, he was still a Jetii .  

Well, as much as he would love to lie in bed with a beautiful man, he wasn’t staying any longer than he had to with this one.  

Obi-Wan had apparently had a similar idea, or maybe they’d both had it.   

Kriff, this was confusing.  

There was food on the table, something he was hesitant to touch, but before he could warn Obi-Wan away from it, he realised Obi-Wan was not reaching for the food, but a scroll behind it.  

Jetii or not, Obi-Wan was beautiful. Shirtless, showing off his thin but muscular frame, covered in the cracked paints, and... wait, could the Jetii hear that he was thinking this.  

A wave of amusement followed the path that the calm had taken, something he was guessing was part of their ‘bond’ and he froze.  

He sank back into the bed, trying to process it all.  

“What is it?”  

“Confirmation of what I already said, an explanation  about what the Life Bond is.”  

Obi-Wan placed the scroll in his hands, and went to dress himself, and Jango read and read and re-read the words, hoping they would change.  

They didn’t.  

They stayed, describing it exactly as Obi-Wan had.  

They were stuck together, bound together.  

His buir was going to kill him or die laughing.  

“We have to get out of here? I don’t know why they’d do this, but I don’t like it, and I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.”  

“Our only answers may be here.”  

“Then we come back with a full strike team, take out the crazy cultists, and then do our research. You already said there’s no way to break it, we should leave, before they do something worse. You disagree?”  

“Not entirely, but I'd prefer to help you build some shields before we try anything. I have several force bonds on different levels already, and I'm disoriented by this.”  

He didn’t know why that made him jealous, he’d only met Obi-Wan when the cultists had done this, and Life Bond or not, Obi-Wan was hardly his. Hells, he was a Jetii, an enemy to Mandalore. But that someone else had bonds with him, it sparked something, possessive.  

Obi-Wan pinked a little.  

“Ok, fine, help me make some small shields, we can work on better ones back on my ship.”  

.  

.  

.  

Escaping was not as easy as he’d hoped, and not as easy as it should have been.  

Obi-Wan was right about the disorientation, Jango admitted to himself begrudgingly.  

He had his blasters with his armour, all his weapons. Obi-Wan was armed too, had his kad’au , but something had made Jango pause. He wasn’t sure if it was something to do with the bond oisk or his posture or what he’d said earlier that day.  

“Can you fight?”  

“I am trained, but it’s been a long time since I was in combat. I'm rusty.”  

There was more to it, he was sure, and in his mind's eye he saw a flash of what he guessed was memory, buildings turned to rubble, bodies strewn across the floor, blood staining everything, screams of the injured and the smell of smoke and rot.  

And here he’d thought this Jetii didn’t do combat at all.  

He didn’t push.  

“Ok, we can try to avoid the cultists, stick close to me. I'll take point.”  

Obi-Wan nodded, and Jango could feel his determination.  

They moved quickly and quietly, managing by some reason or another to avoid the crazies who’d brought them here.  

The Jetii moved quickly and quietly, and didn’t get them caught.  

In fact, getting out of the Temple was incredibly easy, the issue was the forest.  

Thick sharp branches, mud-slick paths, they both slipped several times on their way back to the ship.  

It was only stepping into the Slave 1, that he let himself relax.  

Just for a second, then he went for the box of medical supplies. Obi-Wan was injured, he’d felt it through their bond, and he was going to help. It was a weird type of pain, tingling and half-there and half-not. It was pain, but he was easily somehow aware it wasn’t his pain.  

They were in this together now.  

Whether he liked it or not.  

He finished wrapping the slash on his arm, not too deep nor too dangerous, and smiled up at his new... what was Obi-Wan to him?  

He was very in love. Jetti or not.  

Obi-Wan blushed and he remembered the damned bond once again.  

“Can you help me with those shields?”  

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, “Of course.”  

Luckily, the shields seemed easy enough to manage, and by the end of the day, he had them in place, at least strong enough to keep his emotions and thoughts from being too distracting. They'd also discovered the ship had been sabotaged, and it was going to take a few days to get the ship fixed.  

But with that settled, came a new and greater issue.  

“Can we separate?”  

“How do you mean?"  

“ Mandalore and Coruscant are hardly close geographically , and the Jetiise and Haat’ad aren’t... well, we may not be at war, but we certainly aren’t allies.”  

“No, I suppose not. Perhaps we can change that.”  

“An alliance between Mandalore and the Jetiise ?”  

He didn’t mean to sound as incredulous as he did. Still, was this Jetii  foolishly optimistic or what?  

“We could try...”  

“I can talk with my Buir, but will they listen to you?”  

“My former Master, my buir basically, is Master Windu, Master of the Order, his Master, my Grandmaster or Ba’buir , is Grandmaster of the whole Order, Master Nu, whom I work with, is one of the most influential Jedi in the Order and I run the humanitarian rescue aid group. I have a lot of sway.”  

“So you’re like a Jetti Prince?”  

“We don’t have a system like that, but I suppose somewhat. Master Windu was not my first Master, he adopted me as an Orphaned Padawan after my first Master was killed. There was worry about my being a Councilors padawan, because it’s less field missions, but I didn’t want to go into the field. Instead, I’ve focused on information, internal politics, saving lives from behind the scenes, it worked.”  

“I know the feeling. Jas’buir adopted me when I was 7, after my buire were killed in a Death Watch attack.”  

“I’m sorry.”  

“Me too. Still, can we split?”  

“Theoretically, yes. We'll still be able to feel each other, and send messages, and feel each other's pain, all of it really, we’ll just be far away.”  

“So I’m stuck with some laandur Jetii, great!” 

“I am not fragile!”  

Obi-Wan stormed out, fury washing down the bond.  

Worry sparked through him. If Obi-Wan was injured, killed, there would be nothing he could do if they were so far apart. He knew if Obi-Wan died, he would die too, but that he wouldn’t have been there to save him. At least to try.  

How was he supposed to trust himself on missions, trust himself with his people’s future and their lives, if the Jetii could drop dead and kill him with it?  

That was going to be hard.  

Kriff .  

Two princes of opposing kingdoms...  

Life had really become infinitely more complicated .  

Perhaps Obi-Wan was right, perhaps they could bring their people together.  

He bade Obi-Wan a somewhat bitter goodnight.  

He’d work it all out in the morning.  

.  

.  

.  

Jango took a second to work out why he’d woken, or why things felt weird.  

His arm throbbed, the same half-pain as before, maybe Obi-Wan had jolted it, but even before he opened the door to ask if he was ok, he realised Obi-Wan just wasn’t on board. He wasn’t on the ship.  

Obi-Wan wasn’t on the ship.  

Obi-Wan wasn’t on the ship.  

He wasn’t... on the ship...  

He was in pain.  

Kriff , had he tried to go back to his own ship? Had he run from Jango as soon as he was able, because Jetii and Mando’ade were enemies, because he’d believed Jango would hurt him or something similar? If he died, Jango could, so maybe he worried Jango would take him and selfishly keep him locked away somewhere safe to protect his own life? It was honourless and evil, but who knew what lies the Jetiise told their own about the Mando’ade.  

But no, no that didn’t feel right.  

The Temple, the one they’d been tied together in, why was Obi-Wan there?  

He wanted answers... he’d said he wanted to get more information, he’d said he wanted to get the truth, the whole reason he’d been lured here was to learn.  

Would he really put both their lives on the line for those answers?  

He laughed a little, Obi-Wan was an archivist, of course he would.  

Still, he couldn’t supress the fear that if something happened to Obi-Wan, he’d just drop dead.  

Then again, how worried about that must Obi-Wan be? He stayed safely deep in his Temple most of the time, at least that was the impression Jango had gotten. Jango was in combat, frequently.   

Well, he wasn’t letting Obi-Wan go off alone. They were in this together now, whether they liked it or not.  

They both carried another life along with their own now.  

Maybe, he thought, setting out armoured and armed, this bond wasn’t all bad. It was leading him right to Obi-Wan.  

Would he have cared about Obi-Wan if this bond hadn’t existed, probably not, but none the less, this was the situation.  

Actually, if he was being honest with himself, he’d do very stupid things for someone as kriffing stunning and smart as Obi-Wan, and it was only reminding himself that he was a Jetii that held him back.   

Still, marching through thick forest towards a crazy cult was pushing it.  

He didn’t falter at the sudden wave of SorryI’mfineDon’tworry that came through the bond, which he took as a sign that he was already adapting to it, but he did send back his own FrustraitedWorriedYou’reanidiot .   

Obi-Wan was brushing his hands across a mural when Jango found him, smiling and looking gorgeously fascinated. Jango's arm throbbed again in phantom pain and Obi-Wan winced, but didn’t stop his work.  

“Anything worth this risk?”  

“Yes, actually. It confirmed something for me. We will need to come back, but for now I might have some safer sources to look at.”  

“About what?”  

“An ancient myth about the Devine Pair.”  

“Thats what they called us.”  

“Indeed. It's a tale of a Mandalorian and a Jedi, souls entwined. There's a new pair every time there’s a great shift in the Galaxy. Which is a little foreboding, but... I remember reading this myth. I never thought I'd be part of it.”  

“This has happened before?”  

“Many times.”  

There was something Obi-Wan wasn’t telling him, but for now he didn’t care. Obi-Wan was safe, enough, and they were going back to the ship. Whether Obi-Wan wanted to or not.  

“Whether I want to or not, huh?”  

Jango went very still.  

“You’re broadcasting, my dear. But perhaps returning to the ship would be a good idea. Go on ahead, I'll be back just as soon as I...”  

Jango cut him off by reaching out and hefting him into his arms.  

“Jango, put me down!”  

“We’re going back to the ship.”  

“I can walk.”  

“You are injured.“  

“My arm.”  

“You keep running off. This felt like my best bet.”  

If Obi-Wan really didn’t want to be carried, Jango made sure he could roll out of it and get away, but there was nothing in his movements or their bond that suggested anything other than minor frustration, indignity, amusement and a new spark of attraction. Instead, Obi-Wan laxed into his hold and they made their way back to the ship.  

A shimmer of moonlight broke through the trees and the paint marks on Obi-Wan’s skin lit up where the paint had been. He was sure that if he wasn’t wearing beskar , his would be doing the same.  

Kriff , he was just gorgeous.   

He was so glad the buy’ce muffled the Force and their bond enough for that thought to stay in. He didn’t need to embarrass himself more.  

He was admittedly a little rough when he dropped the Jetii  onto the seat, and pulled the sleeve up to have a look at the re-aggravated cut.  

He wondered if he could stun or tranq him without being affected, and just keep him out until they were off world.  

Karking Jetii.  

.  

.  

.  

The next morning Obi-Wan was still there, to Jango’s pleasant surprise, and breakfast was... amicable .  

The damage to the ship was worse than he’d thought, but fixable, with time.   

It would be faster if the Jetii wasn’t always trying to run off.  

“I want to find Master Rolarn’s camp again, check their notes, give them a proper funeral.” He’d demanded.  

“They took you from there. What if they find you again?”  

“I won’t be so unprepared this time. Just because I don’t fight, doesn’t mean I can’t if I have to.”  

Jango didn’t relent, and Obi-Wan vanished from the ship again.  

They had to get off this damned planet, would it be so hard for the Jetii  to work with him?  

If those zealots caught Obi-Wan, they could kill them both, or torture him into submission without touching him.  

He did not want to work with this Jetii, if their lives weren't tied to one another, he’d have shot the man and left at this point. Stolen his fighter.  

His fighter...  

What if the Jetii left him here? Ran home behind his safe Temple walls where the big bad Mando couldn’t find him? Could the Ka’ra , the Manda, the Force, not have given him a Jetii who was a warrior? An archivist, a politician, a negotiator. The only thing on the list of duties he held that had Jango remotely interested was the aid work, and from the sound of it even most of that was done behind a desk.  

He returned a few hours before dusk with a bag of books and papers, some other things, and the smell of smoke on his clothes.  

Dinner was a silent affair .  

After dinner he sat with one of the holopads Obi-Wan had brought back with him, reading some of the myth and history around their so called ‘Divine Pairing’. He could see his Buir wanting to read all of this, but history had never been his favourite .  

His Buir, Ka’ra , how was he going to explain this? His soul was tied to another, a Jetii . If the Jetii died, he did... he wasn’t sure his Buir would even believe it, let alone what advice he’d give.  

There was, at least, the guarantee that his Buir would not try to force him into a political marriage with Obi-Wan. He’d sworn to Jango long ago that he’d never allow political or arraigned marriages. The Riduurok was about love, not alliance, and no Mando’ad should be force into a loveless marriage.  

It was only as he settled the pad down that he realised Obi-Wan was missing, again.  

The Jetii wasn’t far from the ship, just standing outside, bathing in the moonlight, glowing under the stains the paint had left behind.  

Oh if he didn’t have the buy’ce on he’d be struggling not to press their lips together.  

He'd read the datapad Obi-Wan had lent him and honestly, he wasn't sure why he was still trying to insist he could love Obi-Wan because he was a Jetii . Ritual by the zealots or not, their souls were matched, were made for each other, and he did love Obi-Wan.  

He'd been entranced from the second they’d met, creepy cult or no.  

In one swift movement Obi-Wan spun around, reached up and removed the buy’ce, leaning in to do exactly what he’d wanted to.  

He faltered for half a second, before shifting his stance so the kiss could be deepened.  

Oh, oh, it was perfect.  

He'd never experienced anything like this before, the world sung. He let his eyes flutter closed and relished in the rightness of the kiss.  

It broke, and Obi-Wan leant his head on his shoulder, the buy’ce slipping to the floor.  

“You were broadcasting again.”  

“Maybe we could... go back to the ship.”  

He sent a few thoughts down their bond, and Obi-Wan flushed that beautiful pink once again, highlighted by the glow.  

.  

.  

.  

“Ner Ashi’runi.”  

“Other soul?”  

“Are you not?”  

Obi-Wan lifted himself to press their lips together, his hands tangled in Jango’s hair, AffectionLoveLustSafeAmused ringing through their bond.  

Jango broke the kiss to nuzzle at Obi-Wan's neck, relishing in the roll of his body and the way he tilted his head to bare more of his neck to Jango, teasing his hands under Jango’s shirt.  

He'd been with people before, but it had never been like this. The air flowed around them, their bond providing a whole new aspect he’d never felt before. And intimacy most could never achieve. Heady flashes of arousal from both of them across their bond, no fear at all that either one of them wasn’t wholly enthusiastic .   

A Jetii and a Mando’ad.  

Maybe, maybe it could work.  

“You’re wearing too much.”  

“So are you.”  

“Let’s fix that.”  

.  

.  

.  

It turned out that Life Bond or not, a thousand years of bad history did not go away because the other was attractive.  

They argued, a lot.  

There were several times over the course of fixing the ship alone where Jango had to remind himself that if he shot Obi-Wan, he’d feel the pain and/or die too.  

Not to mention getting off world or working out where to go afterwards.   

But they were trying, and the sex was amazing.  

They would separate, Jango was going back to his Buir and his people, Obi-Wan was doing the same.  

But they had each other's comm codes and they had the stupid kriffing  Life Bond.  

That didn’t stop the fear of separation, but it helped, a little.  

 They had to work together, but that wasn’t the worst thing.  

Not anymore.