FIC: Open Up My Mind ~ Star Wars ~ Jango/Obi-Wan ~ Mature
Title: Open Up My Mind
Fandom: Star Wars
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Warnings: Asexual!Jango, trans!Obi-Wan, trans!clones, the Kaminoans suck, mental manipulations, allusions to canon slavery, allusions to canon drug use
Summary: Before Jango Fett can flee Kamino and the jedi stalking his steps, he stops to protect some of the clones. In joining his defence, Obi-Wan proves himself worthy of Jango's trust.
A/N: For day 5 of JangObi Week, the prompt is competence kink, with the art/secondary prompt of rain. I also gave myself a challenge to write only ace!Jango for this week, although, this is from Obi-Wan's PoV, so that isn't particularly obvious.
The idea my muse handed me for this day involved trans clones, and Obi stepped in and insisted he also be trans; everything is queer and we are living. That said, there is the implication of transphobia-really, it's just the Kaminoans' everything-but the presumed comment isn't on-screen.
There's a part that takes place in Jango's head, which I wrote when I was super tired; if it reads funky, we'll call it purposeful. (Related: this fic didn't get a reread, because I ran out of time, and my next block of free time is tomorrow night. So.)
Allusions made to Jango's enslavement and being forced to work with spice (&, presumably, having to go through a withdrawal) from Jango Fett: Open Seasons, as well as Obi-Wan's enslavement in Jedi Apprentice.
Mando'a should mostly be translated in the surrounding text, or be otherwise commonly enough used in the fandom that most should recognise them, but I've added hover-text for the words not immediately translated, and everything is in the separate glossary, for those who prefer/require that manner.
Sorry for the lateness in posting this. But, given how few people interact on LJ/DW, and my own schedule, posting to these two sites is not among my priorities. If you want to see more timely content here, INTERACT.
-0-o-0-
When Obi-Wan discovered the Fetts' flat emptied of belongings, he'd started to run in the direction he thought-it wasn't hard to get turned around in the facility-would lead him to the only other occupied landing platform, only to be brought up short by a sharp burst of protective rage in the Force, and Fett's voice cracking like a whip as he snapped, "If you're not going to respect their pronouns, just go back to calling them 'units' and using 'it'."
Obi-Wan stumbled a bit gracelessly to a stop, barely kept from clipping the corner of a turn, and peered around into the cross-hall Fett's voice had come from, feeling rather like he had when he'd been watching the fall-out of a prank Quin had badgered him into helping him set up.
Fett was kitted out in full beskar'gam, helmet held in one hand against his hip, standing between a Kaminoan and two clones, who looked to be in their mid-to-late-teens. The clones were holding hands and huddling close together, while the Kaminoan looked a little like they were attempting to use their height to intimidate Fett. Not that it seemed to be having much effect on Fett, who slowly wrapped his free hand around one of his blasters.
It looked very much like a stand-off that was going to go sideways.
"I recognise," Obi-Wan said as he started forward, and Fett twitched, but didn't look away from the Kaminoan, while the Kaminoan and the clones all looked towards him, "that we are not in the Republic, but I was given to understand that this army is to fall under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Republic. In fact, they already should, having been paid for with Republic funds. Which makes them Republic citizens. And Republic citizens, last I checked," he continued as he stopped at Fett's side, smiling blandly up at the Kaminoan as he folded his hands into his sleeves, "have the right to the pronouns of their choice. To knowingly refuse to use another's preferred pronouns is a crime, and is punishable with a fine of up to ten thousand Republic credits. And a prison sentence, if the courts determine your actions may be the precursor to violence.
"So," he finished, tilting his head to one side, "is there a problem here?"
The Kaminoan's nose slits flared, their rage at being outmanoeuvred saturating the Force around them. "No problem," they bit out, before looking at the clones and adding, "Just a misunderstanding. Isn't that right?"
"That wasn't a misunderstanding," Fett snarled. "And you're not talking to them, you're talking to us. You two scram," he added over his shoulder to the clones, his voice gentling as he spoke to them.
A surprised sort of relief lit the Force around the clones, and they hesitantly started to back towards the hallway Obi-Wan had come from.
"I don't think-" the Kaminoan started.
Fett pulled out his blaster and started to raise it, only for Obi-Wan to grab his hand before he could get it up far enough to point above the Kaminoan's knees. "I agree that the younglings should go," Obi-Wan said in the bland, non-confrontational tone he'd developed for dealing with senators and self-important planetary officials. "I'm certain they have classes or duties to attend to, and I do trust that Ser Fett has a sufficient grasp of the events to serve in their stead."
"...serve in their stead," Fett repeated, halting his attempts to push past Obi-Wan's hold.
Obi-Wan blinked at him. "Well, yes. As a jedi knight, I'm granted the rights to serve in place of Republic courts in matters involving Republic citizens when not on a Republic world." He turned back to the Kaminoan, whose rage was taking on an uncertain edge, and said, "It has been my experience that, when one member of an insular culture shows intolerant leanings, other members share the same. Which really is something that needs be looked into, especially if the Kaminoans are intending to do an extensive amount of dealings with Republic entities in future. I would be quite remiss in my duties as an ambassador-"
"It's a clone, not some sentient being," the Kaminoan snapped, presumably losing patience with the meandering commentary Obi-Wan had mastered to keep first Qui-Gon, and then Anakin, out of trouble. "It has no rights."
Obi-Wan withdrew his hand from Fett's. "Ah," he said. "How unfortunate."
Fett didn't hesitate, just finished lifting his blaster and shot the Kaminoan in the head. "Demagolka," he spat as the body collapsed.
Monster.
Obi-Wan hummed noncommittally, attention caught by the shifting tides in the Force, the not-quite-there whispers of change, change.
The cold metal of a blaster's barrel dug into the fleshy underside of Obi-Wan chin, and he found his focus narrowing back in on the physical realm, caught by the considering gleam in Fett's brown eyes and the curling of interest in the Force, so at odds with the violence inherent in the placement of his blaster. "Those were a lot of pretty words you were spouting, jetii," he said, and something in Obi-Wan warmed at the much-missed sound of Mando'a, for all he'd never been fond of the unfriendly implications inherent in that particular word. "How many of them were true?"
Obi-Wan swallowed, barely keeping himself from wincing at the pressure of the blaster. "Which part?" he asked. "A Republic citizen's right to their preferred pronouns, the clones counting as Republic citizens-"
"The part where you can act as a Republic court," Fett snapped.
Ah. Obi-Wan blinked. "That...depends on the crime; intolerance I can judge-" certain entities might argue that he didn't have a 'sufficiently impartial point of view', but that was just one of the many reasons that the Order went to such lengths to protect the medical history of their members "-murder on Republic soil I can't."
Fett's eyes flicked towards the cooling body.
"I'm talking about Coruscant; this isn't a Republic world."
(Honestly, Obi-Wan was just as culpable in the Kaminoan's death, although he regretted it about as little as Fett likely did. Which wasn't very jedi of him-all lives were meant to be precious-but his personal tolerance for bigots was on par with the Order's general tolerance for slavers and other such who denied fellow sentients their due rights: They wouldn't seek to murder in cold blood, but if they happened to be in evidence and someone else sought retribution, they wouldn't go out of their way to stop it.)
Fett's eyes narrowed. "You have no proof."
That was, technically, true; Obi-Wan had seen only a being in beskar'gam and a jetpack, who had used a dart from this planet, which was circumstantial enough evidence to be brought into question in an court, especially given the distance and poor lighting conditions that had made spotting any identifying features on the beskar'gam difficult. With so many clones of Fett running around, one could even make the argument that one of them had borrowed Fett's beskar'gam and been the one on Coruscant, which would make determining the true culprit too much of a headache for even the most dedicated law official to insist on seeing the matter through to the end, not over a dead bounty hunter. Determining who wanted Padmé dead would be the priority, and waiting for another attempt and following that lead, or leaning on the bounty hunters guild until they turned up the origin of the hit, would be much faster.
Still. "Innocent men don't clear out their flats, Fett."
Fett used the blaster under Obi-Wan's chin to force him to lean in and slightly down, negating their minor difference in height. "I had a previous engagement," he said, and his eyes gleamed with a challenge.
Obi-Wan couldn't quite stop his mouth from twisting with a wry smile. "A 'previous engagement', is it?" he asked, and glanced towards the Kaminoan's body.
"Shen Ta was just a...diversion," Fett said. "Unplanned."
"Of course," Obi-Wan agreed drily, then reached up and wrapped one hand around the barrel of the blaster, tugging it down, away from his aching chin. "Why don't we see about another 'unplanned diversion' to the nearest Republic world and settle the matter of your..." He hummed, faux thoughtful. "Innocence."
Given how his interactions with Fett had gone so far-the subtle flirting in his flat, which Obi-Wan would have missed most of, if he hadn't been so familiar with Mando culture; the threat of violence in the blaster held to his head; the almost playful tone to their current conversation-the last thing Obi-Wan would have expected, was for Fett to pull away, holstering his blaster and pulling on his helmet. "No," he said, tone gone flat, and Obi-Wan honestly couldn't say if that was due to the helmet's vocal modulator, or if Fett's attitude had actually just taken a full one-eighty.
He reached out and grabbed Fett's upper arm, where he was lacking the protective cover of beskar'gam, and said, "You have to know how this looks, if you leave. How it will reflect on you, on your son. On all of those clones of you."
"Like I said, I have a previous engagement," Fett said, flat, and stepped away from Obi-Wan's grasp.
The Force twisted, churned, writhed in the space opening between them.
And then, it pushed.
"Gedet'ye," Obi-Wan heard himself say, the Mando'a falling from his lips as easily as it had fifteen years before, "ni duumir gaa'tayl."
Please, let me help.
Fett froze, the Force falling still around them, like it was waiting for their next move.
"Ke shekemir," he snapped, an order to follow, and then strode down the hall, in the direction Obi-Wan had thought the landing platform his ship was on laid.
Obi-Wan cast one last glance at the body sprawled across the floor, then hurried after the Mandalorian.
Fett led him out to the other occupied landing platform, his son's shout of, "Dad! Behind you!" almost lost to the constant rain.
Fett kept walking until he was nearly to the ramp of his ship-his son had scurried up the ramp, but stopped just inside to peer out-where he stopped and turned to face Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan huffed a bit and pulled his hood up to cover his head-it was already so sodden, it wouldn't do much to keep him dry, but it would at least serve to keep some of the rain out of his face-then joined Fett. "Is this really necessary?" he shouted over the rain.
"Yes," Fett replied, and Obi-Wan scowled a bit at the realisation that he could just change the volume output for his helmet's external speakers, so he wouldn't have to shout to be heard. "Everything within the facility is recorded."
That...made a certain amount of sense. And Obi-Wan assumed it would be difficult to record conversations had outside, given the constant heavy rainfall, which made the open landing platform as secure as if they had a signal jammer. "Who are you worried about?" he asked, taking care not to insult Fett by suggesting he might be afraid, even if that was how his actions read, to Obi-Wan.
Fett was quiet for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, like he was debating how much to trust Obi-Wan, how much he could afford to give away before he lost all of his bargaining chips.
Mentioning the clones hadn't given the man pause, but Obi-Wan speaking in Mando'a had, so he said, again, "Gedet'ye."
Please.
"Tyranus," Fett spat, and the Force whirled around them, a secondary storm unseen to Fett, but so clear to Obi-Wan.
see this, listen, important, change
"He leads the Separatists, claims he was a jetii, and he has a jetii'kad, but it's red."
The colour used by those who have Fallen, by the sith.
"He seeks the destruction of you jetiise."
The Force shrieked a warning, and Obi-Wan shouted, "Fett!" even as the man swayed, staggered back a step, and collapsed.
"Dad!" the clone in the ship, Boba, screamed, as he raced down the ramp.
Obi-Wan reached Fett first, unlatching his helmet with numb fingers, revealing Fett's face to be twisted with pain, the blood trailing from his nose and ears almost immediately being washed away by the pouring rain.
"What did you do?!" Boba screamed, little fists punching at Obi-Wan's shoulder, his head.
"This isn't me!" Obi-Wan snapped, and held out Fett's helmet to the boy. "Take that; we need to get him inside."
The boy let out a low, broken noise, clutching the helmet to his chest, but didn't fight Obi-Wan as he picked Fett up, turned to lead the way into the ship and through to a cramped room with a hard bunk. "There," he said, pointing, his voice coming out wrecked.
Obi-Wan suspected the water trails on his face were from more than just the rain.
He knew he needed to help Fett, to sink into the Force and plead with it to show him if there was anything he might do, but he turned his focus, first, on the boy, placing his hands on his shoulders and leaning down so he could look into his wide, terrified eyes. "Boba," he said, gentle, weaving calm into the Force around them, "I need you to close the hatch and lock the ship down, okay? I'm going to try to help your father, but I don't know what happened, or how vulnerable any of us are to it happening again."
Boba stared at him, his lower lip trembling and fresh lines of liquid trailing down his cheeks. "But...you can fix it?" he pleaded.
"I don't know," Obi-Wan admitted, because he'd learnt young that false platitudes only hurt, in the end. (Unless they were to someone who was dying; then, they were the greatest kindness you could offer.) "But I am going to do my absolute best to fix it."
Boba swallowed, looked uncertainly between Obi-Wan and his father, shoulders curling inwards, like he was maybe remembering that Obi-Wan's arrival on planet had led to Fett wanting to leave with all haste.
But Boba was a child-clone of a bounty hunter and Mandalorian or not-who was scared and alone, and Obi-Wan was offering him hope, was weaving calm into the very air, easing his terror.
(It was a manipulation, he knew, and he did feel a little bad, but it was for Boba's sake; his morals had always been a little more flexible, when it came to protecting children, keeping them alive and healthy for just one more day.)
"Okay," Boba said. "Close the ship."
"And set whatever security your father has installed," Obi-Wan reminded him.
"And set the security," Boba agreed. "I can do that."
"I know you can," Obi-Wan told him, and squeezed his shoulders before letting go. "I will remain here, with your father."
"Okay," Boba said again, and cast one last tearful look at Fett, hugging the helmet tight to his chest, before he straightened and turned and left the room.
Obi-Wan let out a quiet, slow breath, then settled on the edge of the bed, next to Fett, and settled a hand over his forehead, closing his eyes and relaxing into the Force's will.
The Force rushed around him, dragging him along, zeroing in on a patch of rot, black and threaded with thin red veins like lightning. It was anchored deep, wrapped around an old hurt, something that had already blackened with hatred, feeding on the Darkness of the memory and expanding, reaching, poisoning all it touched.
Except there, a brilliant gleam of light-a smile, child's laughter, a hug and a Keldabe and such a pure love-and there, a warm glow threading through the darkness-companionship, loneliness shared, loyalty to a leader thought dead-and a tiny spark, aged and struggling-the love of a parent, an apology for leaving too soon, a whispered 'I believe in you, Jan'ika'.
He reached one hand out towards the Darkness, and it scurried away from him, from the pure Light rooted in the core of his being, tried and unshadowed by the worst the galaxy could throw at him.
'Is it time to play?' asked the brilliant gleam of the child.
'Have you come to fight?' asked the warm thread of brotherhood.
The tiny spark circled him, once, twice, and then bobbed. 'You'll do,' it said, and pulled Obi-Wan forward, past the spreading rot and the other sources of light, to shadowed corner, where huddled a young man, dirty and with shackles weighing down his wrists.
Obi-Wan fell to his knees next to the young man-too old to be Boba, too young to be Fett, something broken in their eyes that whispered to Obi-Wan of his own trials, of freedom lost and the broken bodies of those who had looked to him for guidance and the loss of a parent-and he gently took their hands, thumbs brushing against the heavy shackles, and said, 'Jango, you have the power to free yourself.'
The young man smiled, looked a little older, freed from the shackles, but shaking and pale like they were ill. 'Do I?' they asked, and a line of blood dripped from their nose, leaked out of their ears, stained their teeth when they smiled, a mockery.
Obi-Wan let himself remember the weight of a collar around his throat, the thinness of starvation, the burn of the slaver's whip, of shrapnel and blasterburns.
'Oh,' the man said, older again, encased in armour with twin blasters in their hands. They looked down, surprised, and then they raised their head again, flashed a sharp, violent smile through their helmet. 'Do jetii remember how to go to war?' they asked, a challenge; a plea.
Obi-Wan curled his hands around the hilts of two lightsabres, one lighting blue and fit perfectly to his hand, the other lighting green and feeling too large, but its kyber sang to him of a parent's love and the lives it would help him to safeguard, and Obi-Wan smiled back at Fett, flashing teeth, and said, 'This one does.'
There was something familiar in the Darkness, something that made the green kyber cry, cling tightly to Obi-Wan's light and whisper apologies for missing, again, the Fall of one he loved.
The fight was long, was hard; the Darkness was strong, was stubborn, but so were they, and this was a battle Obi-Wan had spent every day of his life winning.
'Impressive, jetii,' Fett said as the Darkness screamed and withered and faded away.
Obi-Wan turned to them, and was brought up short by the mythosaur skull drawn large across their chestplate, of the crown of bones adorning their helmet. 'Mand'alor,' he said.
Fett smiled, smug and just a little lazy, and stepped in close, seeming to both tower over Obi-Wan, and stand just that littlest bit shorter. 'I look forward to fighting with you again, jetii,' Fett said, and an interest, a hunger, bled into the air around them.
Obi-Wan recognised the sensation, had felt it before, on Mandalore, from those who had watched him fight, who didn't yet realise he was a jedi; that purely Mandalorian lust for strength, for bravery, for a willingness to give everything for the right cause.
He reached out and pressed one hand against the beskar heart of Fett's beskar'gam, fingers spread over the mythosaur's brow. 'With me, or against me?' he had to ask.
Before he could get a reply, the vision faded away, and Obi-Wan sank into an exhausted sleep.
When Obi-Wan finally dragged himself back to the land of the conscious, he found himself lying in a hard bed that he didn't recognise, dressed in a blue shirt that wasn't his, his chest unbound under it, and being used as a pillow for a dark-haired youngling. There was a throbbing behind his eyes-a familiar warning that he'd overextended himself-but the Force was calm around him, calmer than he'd felt it in years.
"You're awake."
He blinked towards the voice, and found a brown-skinned human or human-like being standing in a narrow doorway. "Debatable," he rasped.
The other smiled, crooked but warm. "An improvement over out cold," they pointed out.
It usually is, Obi-Wan didn't say, because his sluggish thoughts finally lit on recognition. "Fett?"
Fett's head tilted slightly to one side, his expression smoothing out into a blankness that would have put his helmet to shame. "I seem to recall you calling me something else, jetii."
Had he?
He remembered the mythosaur skull and the crown of bones.
"Mand'alor," he said, and the word felt heavy on his tongue.
Fett's mouth twisted, something sour tainting the Force between them. "That hasn't been mine in decades," he said, and his voice was flat, emotionless, but Obi-Wan felt like he'd just shoved a finger into an open wound.
He remembered a young man with shackles around his wrists, loss and failure dulling their eyes.
"I'll use yours, if you use mine," he heard himself say, and wasn't certain what part of him thought that was a good response.
Fett stared at him for a long moment, his expression as impossible to read as a helmet, and the Force around him just as muted, as careful to hide his thoughts.
The child on Obi-Wan's chest stirred, mumbling, "Buir?"
Fett hummed. "Obi-Wan's awake."
Something in Obi-Wan's chest went tight and warm at the sound of his name from Fett's lips, the way his accent curled around the syllables like a caress.
" 'Kay," the child-Boba, he recognised-mumbled, and then shifted, head moving over Obi-Wan's chest until it was resting over his heart.
In the doorway, Fett smirked, dark eyes gleaming with a fond humour.
Boba jerked up, his eyes opening wide as he caught Obi-Wan's gaze. "You're awake!" he shouted, and then sort of flopped back down on him, arms squeezing against his sides in a sort of hug.
Obi-Wan huffed and reached up to ruffle the boy's wavy hair. "So it seems."
Boba let out a happy hum and leant up over Obi-Wan, beaming down at him. "You kept your promise," he said.
Obi-Wan let his face soften into a smile. "So it seems," he repeated.
Boba scrunched his nose in a silent complaint, then gave Obi-Wan a considering look before rolling off of him and onto his feet on the floor. "I'm gonna get Obi some food," he informed Fett.
"And something to drink, I think," Fett replied, stepping back and out of the way of the doorway.
"Okay!"
Once Boba had vanished around the edge of the doorway, Fett stepped into the room properly. "Apparently," he said, something sharp and knowing about his gaze, "you are very calming."
Obi-Wan tilted his head, trying to decide if there was a trap in that somewhere. "Most jedi are," he pointed out.
"Not in my experience."
"Maybe you just need more experience," Obi-Wan quipped without really thinking about it.
Fett smirked and sat on the bed next to him, not reacting as Obi-Wan scrambled to sit up, just waited for him to settle again before asking in a tone that could definitely be classified as flirting, "Are you offering to provide that experience?"
Heat thrummed through Obi-Wan, and he had to swallow against the urge to-
Well, he wasn't certain what he felt the urge to do, only that it probably wouldn't go quite the way he wanted.
(Or it would, which could be worse; Fett was still the prime suspect in the murder of a bounty hunter and the attempts against Padmé's life.)
Boba stumbled back into the room with a ration pack and a canteen of water, which he handed to Fett so he could climb back onto the bed, and then into Obi-Wan's lap.
"Boba," Fett said, low and warning. "We've talked about personal space."
Boba turned an absolutely outrageous pout on his father. "Obi doesn't mind," he insisted, before turning to look up at Obi-Wan, his eyes going wide and pleading. "Right?"
Obi-Wan huffed and shook his head. "It's fine," he promised, and Boba beamed and leant back against him, head pillowed comfortably against his chest.
It was, actually, okay; a part of Obi-Wan had missed Anakin being small enough to cuddle, and it was unexpectedly nice to have a small body warm against his front, chattering about how Obi-Wan had been asleep for days, but Fett had woken up after a couple of hours, which had been good, because the Kaminoans, apparently, had not taken kindly to Fett killing one of their own-go figure-so he'd had to go out and talk with them.
Fett remained sitting on the bed the whole time, close enough that Obi-Wan could have reached out and touched him, easily, but distant enough not to encroach on Obi-Wan's personal space. He kept watching them, however, dark eyes warm and fond.
Finally, as Obi-Wan finished the last of the canteen-the ration pack had long-since been devoured-Fett said, "Boba, why don't you get yourself some breakfast, and then work on your learning modules some."
Boba groaned. "But I'm comfortable," he complained, very pointedly pushing further back against Obi-Wan.
Fett raised an eyebrow.
Boba groaned again, but obediently climbed out of Obi-Wan's lap-beaming at Obi-Wan when he ruffled his hair-and off the bed, taking the empty wrapper and canteen with him as he left.
Which left Obi-Wan with Fett. "My things?" he asked.
Fett reached out and tapped an indent in the wall over the bed, and a panel popped open, revealing his tunics, leggings, tabards, and belt, folded in a neat pile, his lightsabre on top. "They've been cleaned," Fett said. "Your boots are at the end of the bed and the robe is in the cargo hold." He motioned to the open door of the room. "Fresher's across the passage; sonic can be fussy, but the water shower works fine."
And, as much time as Fett spent on a water planet, where it apparently always rained, Obi-Wan expected the ship's water reserves were substantial. Especially since, by the sounds of things, they were still parked on Kamino, despite the murdered Kaminoan.
Obi-Wan glanced at his lightsabre, but didn't grab it. "Am I a prisoner?" he asked.
Fett narrowed his eyes, mouth turning down. "No. You're a guest."
The Force hummed in agreement; Obi-Wan was free to leave, if he wanted. He suspected Fett would put up a fight, if he tried to arrest him, but, then, it seemed his former employer had left a trap in his mind, to incapacitate him in the event of him sharing part of his plan; Obi-Wan was fairly certain the trap was sufficiently disarmed, but he wouldn't put it past this 'Tyranus' to send an assassin against Fett, should he believe the Mandalorian was in danger of selling him out.
Kamino, it seemed, was the safest place for both Fett and his son.
And, if Obi-Wan wanted more information about what Fett knew-what he'd meant by 'destruction of the jedi'-he would be best served playing nice with the man. Which was, it seemed, not going to be difficult to do. Unfortunately.
So he reached into the little cubby and pulled out his clothing, leaving his lightsabre there.
Fett narrowed his eyes, considering instead of threatening, and something shuddered down Obi-Wan's spine.
"I'll leave you to it," Fett said, finally, as he rose from the bed.
"F- Jango," Obi-Wan corrected, and the smile Fett turned on him was as stunning as it was dangerous, "I never heard your answer: Are you going to fight with me, or against me?"
Fett leant down, catching himself with one hand on the bed between Obi-Wan's legs, face stopping so close, Obi-Wan could feel his breath against his lips when he murmured, "Why not both?"
Kriff it, Obi-Wan decided, and kissed him.
By the curve of Fett's mouth against his, that had been his intention all along.
.