Chapter Text
You had to admit that you had been more than a little distracted all throughout the meeting about your next job. The mission was a simple break in, kill the target, acquire proof of execution, and get out; not much room for creativity planning-wise. You would be on the same squad as Jaster and Jango just like always, and that was the squad that would actually be breaking into the facility. So you allowed your mind to wander. Since this mission was so simple, it was unnecessary for the whole crew to be part of it, leaving the two teams (action and distraction) in one of the smaller briefing rooms.
Across the table from you was one Jango Fett, the man that Jasker had taken in some fifteen years or so before, the man that you’d had an intensely flirtatious relationship with for the last five, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes raked over his armor-clad form. Had it not been for the existing nature of the relationship, you might have blushed when your eyes scanned far enough up his body to see that his eyes were on yours--possibly that whole time. But instead, you just smirked in response, earning a sarcastic little air kiss from him.
“Jango,” Jaster’s voice was warning, clearly not happy with the way his adopted son’s attention was drifting. “Are you clear on what we will be doing?”
“Of course, sir. Standard smash and grab.”
The father figure chuckled. “A little more complicated than that, but basically. We’ll meet at dawn. Dismissed.”
As was the usual routine, you started towards Jango to chat as you headed to the mess. When you approached, Jaster was in the middle of muttering something to Jango, only the tail-end of which you managed to hear, “--something about it soon. This is getting ridiculous.”
Jango’s brown eyes were locked on yours over Jaster’s shoulder when he said, “Of course, sir.”
Jaster glanced behind him to see what his son was looking at and promptly rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you, Y/N,” he greeted before turning back to Jango. “Think about what I said, and don’t be late in the morning.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Eyebrow raised, you turned your gaze from Jaster’s retreating back to your friend. “What was that about?”
“Something about not paying attention?” he grinned. “I dunno; I wasn’t really listening.”
A laugh bubbled up from your throat. “He’s going to kill you one of these days.”
“If he was going to do that, he would have years ago.”
You shrugged with a tiny nod. “Fair enough.”
“Dinner at my place?”
“We both live here!”
“So?”
Apparently, you found out after a few minutes of following him, what he meant by dinner at his place was that he’d grabbed some food right before the meeting and stashed it in his room.
“How did you even manage to get this?” you asked incredulously as soon as you saw the spread on the table you normally played poker at. Normally, dinners in the compound were limited to whatever the cooks either felt like making or managed to get their hands on, and in this backwater area of Mandalore while you were all in hiding . . . they couldn’t really get anything interesting to eat. Acquisition priorities were on more important things like weapons and fuel.
“I know a guy.”
“Sweet-talking people behind my back, Fett?” you teased as you ditched your helmet on the little table by the door.
“I would never!” he gasped, feigning offense.
“So, how’d you really get it?”
He turned from where he was removing his armor to grin at you. “Jaster had me do a supply run this morning, so I made a pit stop at a restaurant with my cut from the last mission. Cooks let me heat it up.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to butter me up.”
“Is there a problem with bringing home a nice meal for my best friend?”
“Only if other people find out,” you snickered. “Can you imagine if Verne found out about this stash?”
“There are reasons I keep the door locked, love. After what that man pulled the last time I brought home a meal?” He exhaled heavily. “Jaster had to pry me off the bastard.”
That snicker from before morphed into a bark of a laugh. “I thought you were gonna kill him!”
“Fucker stole my snacks!”
You ruffled his curly hair. “Can you imagine what the others would say if they found out how protective you were over those? You’d never hear the end of it!”
A loud yelp escaped you when he swiftly pinned your arm behind your back. “And that’s why no one is going to find out . . . right, love?”
If you were literally anyone else, you might have been worried; Jango, young as he was, already had a fearsome reputation. But being his best friend and all, you could hear the edge of amusement in his low voice. “As if I would ruin Verne’s good name like that,” you teased, leaning your head against his for the briefest of moments. You could feel him freeze at the contact, which brought your mind to a screeching halt when you realized what you had just done.
That simple little touch was essentially the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss. It was a move that you’d often fantasized about doing for . . . a while, admittedly, but apparently the flirting was a little too much for your distracted brain to separate fantasy from reality. Post jobs or illness, he’d done the same to you, but it was always in a platonically loving way. You absolutely did not mean it like that.
Awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “So, shall we eat?” Times like this, you wished you were wearing your helmet so he couldn’t see the way your face was burning with embarrassment.
Fortunately, Jango seemed to be willing to let your not-so-little mistake slide. Quickly, he released his grip on you. “Um . . . Yeah,” his voice cracked. “Yes,” he repeated more solidly. “Sure.”