FIC: Hukaat'kama ~ Star Wars Prequels ~ Jango/Obi-Wan ~ Mature ~ Chapter 4/6
Title: Hukaat'kama
Fandom: Star Wars
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Warnings: Asexual!Jango, AU, hurt/comfort, pre-relationship, established relationship, mentioned drug addiction and withdrawal, mentioned slavery, mentioned genocide, canon-typical violence, Mandalorian culture, Jedi culture, non-binary clones, grief, angst, Kamino is the worst, Jango's questionable parenting, mention of reconditioning, hopeful ending
Summary: Five times someone threatened Jango for Obi-Wan's sake.
A/N: Look, I started reading the comics when I fell into prequel hell this last time, and this snarly asshole just completely won me over; you had better believe I'll be giving Alpha a chance to give Jango shit.
Jango hadn't been surprised when Obi-Wan only visited long enough to leave Boba with him, then left again. Nor was he surprised when his cyare avoided him for a week, before volunteering himself to lead one of the first response teams when the Separatists revealed their droid army and forced the Republic to call the clones to war.
"I think I owe you an apology," Vos said during one of his visits, which had become a normal thing without Jango really realising that was possible.
Jango shrugged and motioned to the next piece of the puzzle Boba was working on, when his ad shot him a hopeful look. "I knew what to expect," he admitted.
They were both quiet for a while, watching as Boba continued working on his puzzle, nose wrinkled up in the same way that all of the clones' did when they were thinking especially hard; Jango suspected it was a face he, himself, made, and wondered how Obi-Wan must feel, being surrounded by so many versions of Jango's face, looking as he had when they first met, making similar expressions. Would it make him draw their separation out? Or would he come back to Jango sooner?
"What are you going to do?" Vos finally asked, after Boba's puzzle let out the victory chime, and the program set him a new one, just a little bit harder.
"Nothing," Jango admitted.
"Nothing?"
He shrugged. "Keep seeing the mir'baar'ur. Take care of Boba. Visit your ridiculous garden."
"That's it?"
"He knows where I am, when he's ready to see me."
Vos sighed and slumped in his chair. "You know this is going to go horribly wrong."
Jango shrugged again; he was fairly certain that pushing Obi-Wan before he was ready would go far worse.
It was about three months later, when Vos was proven correct. From a certain point of view, as Obi-Wan liked to say when he wanted to annoy Jango.
Jango had been relaxing in the garden, half-dozing under a tree from Concord Dawn-Obi-Wan's baar'ur friend, Bant, had shown it to him, a couple of days after Vos had dragged him out of bed-half keeping an eye on where Boba was playing tag with a group of jet'ade, all of them screaming in delight and scattering as one little Wookie roared a challenge and started running towards them.
One moment, he was leaning against the tree. The next, he was sailing through the air and landing hard in the small lake nearby.
He came up sputtering and mentally snarling threats. And then he saw the clone standing next to the tree, completely armoured, and froze. "Alpha," he said cautiously, not completely certain which of the Alpha-batch this was, but having a suspicion; there were only so many of them who would be ballsy enough to attack him.
"Prime," they returned, voice flat, but with just a hint of rage.
Jango resisted a wince; he knew which one this was. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he slowly finished climbing out of the lake.
They didn't remove their buy'ce, but Jango knew their face-and Seventeen's temperament-well enough to guess that they would be baring their teeth at him when they replied, "My general's with the Jet'alore."
That didn't actually answer his question, but Jango didn't push, instead reaching down and twisting the bottom of Obi-Wan's tunics-when his cyare had left, his ad had gone with him, and while Jango wasn't quite daring enough to take up residence in Obi-Wan's flat without his knowledge, he had no qualms about continuing to borrow his clothing, especially since the sight of his beskar'gam left him nauseous-to wring out some of the water.
"What the kriff are you wearing?" Seventeen demanded, and they sounded honestly baffled.
"Tunics. Leggings."
"Prime."
Jango raised an eyebrow at them as he wrung out water from another section of fabric.
None of the Alphas had ever been particularly patient-they had been trained to be soldiers, to be constantly moving and fighting, not to sit still and outwait an opponent-so Jango wasn't surprised when Seventeen took a heavy step forward and snarled, "Why does my general keep calling out for you in his sleep?"
Jango flinched. "Ah," he said, talking fast so Seventeen couldn't comment, "you got assigned to Obi-Wan."
Jango saw Seventeen coming, that time, and dodged their punch, sweeping a leg at their feet so they'd jump, and then used the extra speed he had from not being in beskar'gam to get to his feet, turn, and give the clone a hard shove before they could completely find their balance on the wet bank.
Seventeen hit the water with a loud splash.
Boba and the jet'ade cheered.
Seventeen came up snarling, blaster in their hand and raising towards Jango.
Jango bared his teeth in a threatening smile, silently daring Seventeen to do it, to shoot him like he was certain all of the Alphas had been wanting to do for a very long time.
"Alpha!" Obi-Wan's voice cracked across the garden like a whip, and Seventeen's hand-and the blaster-dropped back to their side as fast as a stone giving in to gravity.
"O'buir!" Boba shouted in greeting, and left his new friends to run towards Obi-Wan; Jango didn't know what, exactly, had happened on Kamino or during the trip back to the Core, but Boba had been returned to Jango calling Obi-Wan O'buir, and occasionally asking when Jango was going to marry him.
Jango had resorted to saying that was up to Obi-Wan, rather than trying to explain that jetiise didn't get married, or that he was fairly certain that Obi-Wan would prefer to stab him, at the moment.
Obi-Wan caught Boba in a hug, his smile fond and adoring, and Jango honestly couldn't tell if his heart was swelling or shattering at the sight of his cyare with his adiik.
"Kriff," Seventeen muttered, stepping up next to Jango. "You're gone on him."
"Ne'johaa," Jango ordered quietly.
Seventeen snorted, then tugged off their buy'ce and turned to give Jango a narrow-eyed glare. "Prime," they said.
How long? Jango heard, and What did you do? and Do I need to throw you in the lake again?
"I left for ten years," Jango admitted.
"Why?" Seventeen demanded, low and angry.
Jango turned a raised eyebrow on them.
Seventeen scowled, one corner of their lip twitching with the urge to snarl, and they turned to look towards where Boba was chattering happily at Obi-Wan, who was smiling down at him, although, Jango suspected he was also watching him and Seventeen, in case more violence broke out.
"I thought you hated jetiise," Seventeen said.
Jango frowned, glancing down at the tunics he was wearing. "No, I don't."
Seventeen held very, very still for long enough, that Jango found himself turning to look at them, casting a quick concerned gaze over them, some base part of himself expecting to find a wound. Or maybe a fish in an awkward place.
"Prime," Seventeen said at last, dark eyes watching Jango with uncertainty and something that might have been concern, "don't ever return to Kamino."
Jango breathed through the sharp lance of agony in his heart and shrugged; he'd known the clones wouldn't want anything to do with him, not after everything he'd done. "I don't intend to," he promised.
"No," Seventeen said, shaking their head. "Stay off Kamino," they insisted. "Stay away from the Kaminiise."
Jango blinked a couple of times, frowning. "I don't have any particular interest in seeing the Kaminiise again," he admitted, because he'd rather thoroughly had his fill of the aliens.
"...good," Seventeen decided, and shoved their buy'ce back onto their head as Boba started leading Obi-Wan in the direction of the nearest garden exit. Seventeen started to follow them.
Jango shook his head, baffled by the whole conversation, and headed back towards his tree; if Obi-Wan had Boba, Jango probably wouldn't have to worry about him for a while. And it wasn't like Boba didn't know the rules and how to get back to their guest quarters.
"Prime," Seventeen called, and Jango glanced back at them, "where are you going?"
Jango motioned towards the tree. "I was taking a nap."
"We're going to eat," Seventeen said.
"Enjoy," Jango replied, continuing the short trip to the tree. "Jet'yaim food is much better than-"
"You're not coming," Seventeen interrupted, tone gone just the slightest bit sharp.
Jango sat down and closed his eyes, letting his actions answer for him.
"Alpha!" he thought he heard Obi-Wan shouting again, before the hard-knock of a stun shot sent him senseless.
"I," Jango snarled in Mando'a, as soon as he was aware enough to speak, "am going to kick that little shit off the top of the waterfall."
A warm chuckle filled the air, and long fingers brushed over his forehead, leaving behind soothing coolness to combat the throbbing ache stun shots always left, and into his hair.
"Cyare," Jango breathed, pressing into the contact.
Obi-Wan let out a quiet, almost startled sound, and the gentle fingers in Jango's hair turned into claws, scratching against his scalp and feeling absolutely amazing.
Jango didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to find out this was some sort of hallucination, some new way his own mind-filled with blank spaces where memories had been erased and half-sprung traps set by a Dark-aligned Force-sensitive, according to his mir'baar'ur-had concocted to shatter the hope he tried to pretend he wasn't clinging to, that his cyare might forgive him before the burgeoning war solidified the distance that Jango's own actions had created between them.
He might be dar'manda, but he was no hut'uun, so he made himself open his eyes, taking a brief moment to take in the room-Obi-Wan's own; familiar, after all the times Jango had snuck in to steal clothing-before following the line of the arm attached to the hand in his hair and meeting pale eyes. "Su'cuy," he whispered, and tried to pretend the word hadn't half-lodged in his throat.
"Su'cuy," Obi-Wan returned quietly, a furrow between his brows.
Jango hesitated, then reached up and brushed a thumb along one of Obi-Wan's brows, forcing the skin to smooth.
Obi-Wan let out a sound that was half-whine, half-sob, and then he was moving onto the bed-because someone had laid Jango out on Obi-Wan's bed-draping himself over Jango and ducking his face against his throat, like he had so often done after nightmares-or bad visions, twice-or one particularly bad mission that Jango had been nearby enough to pick him and Jinn up after, ferrying them back to Coruscanta while Jinn either pretended or honestly didn't notice his ad spent near the entire trip glued to Jango's side.
"Ob'ika," Jango breathed, curling his arms around his cyare and holding him tight, lifting his head to press a kiss to his hair-longer, but no less soft-to whisper promises of safety, that Jango was there, wouldn't leave him again.
Obi-Wan let out a choked little sob and clung to Jango, dampness spreading through Jango's tunics by his neck, and he squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip and wished, more than anything, that he could go back ten years, smack himself over the head hard enough to see stars, and drop him into Obi-Wan's lap with orders to kriffing stay there.
"Gev," Obi-Wan muttered against his throat.
"Me'ven?"
"You're being self-deprecating. Stop," Obi-Wan ordered in Mando'a.
Jango winced, remembering what Obi-Wan had once admitted to him about how physical contact strengthened his empathy, making it near-impossible for him to completely block the input, no matter how thickly he built his shields. "N'epar," he murmured, and forced himself to think about how much he loved Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan relaxed against him and nuzzled at the skin of his throat, the rasp of his beard unfamiliar, but not entirely unwanted, Jango discovered.
"You grew a beard," he murmured a bit thoughtlessly, even as he moved a hand up to thread through Obi-Wan's hair, smiling a bit helplessly at the softness and the way it felt as the separate strands tickled along the sides of his hand and wrist.
"I got tired of looking like I was fifteen," Obi-Wan muttered.
Jango chuckled; he'd heard plenty of his cyare's complaints about his youthful face, watching Obi-Wan glower at himself in the refresher mirror in the mornings. "It looks good," he promised.
Obi-Wan hummed and leant up a bit to kiss the hinge of Jango's jaw. "You're wearing my clothing."
"I can stop," Jango offered, even though he very much didn't want to, shied away at the mere thought that he might have to give up this one link to his absent cyare.
Obi-Wan pushed himself up, rising above Jango without actually getting off him, pale eyes considering as he stared down at Jango.
Jango knew that there was still more than enough physical contact for Obi-Wan to be able to read his emotions, that he had to know how much Jango didn't want to give up wearing Obi-Wan's tunics. But he also knew that his cyare had never liked depending entirely on his empathy, because, he said, sentients were complicated, and just because they were feeling one thing more strongly than something else, didn't mean that was the emotion that would set the tone for a conversation.
It was something, he'd once complained to Jango, that his buir had never quite seemed to understand; Jinn would sense strong fear or anger, and he'd get caught up in addressing that, instead of recognising the determination or quiet grief that was more visible in facial expressions or body language.
"Jango," he said, falling back on Basic, as he often did when he was choosing his words carefully, "why aren't you and Boba sleeping in here?"
Jango had been giving excuses and mocking replies to Vos and Bant and half a dozen other jetiise who had asked him the same question over the past months. Blaming it on Skywalker's clear distaste for Jango-he'd had one run-in with the ad and had learnt enough from his expression and the way he'd fisted his hands when he snarled threats, should Jango even think about going after Amidala again, to guess he wouldn't be winning him over any time soon-or there not being sufficient space for Boba, or his guest quarters being closer to his mir'baar'ur's office, or preferring the food in one commissary over another.
The simple truth, however, was: "I...didn't think you'd want me here," he admitted, and had to look away from those beloved pale eyes, which had always seen too much.
Obi-Wan didn't immediately respond, which meant that Jango had been right about that, at least in part.
Slowly, Obi-Wan lowered himself back against Jango, shifting down a bit so his head could rest on Jango's shoulder. "Alpha says we deserve each other."
Jango growled at the mention of the clone. "Throw them off the waterfall," he muttered.
Obi-Wan's chuckle was low and warm, and Jango felt his sourness easing despite himself.
He sighed and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his cyare's waist and letting himself enjoy being able to hold him.
"You never comm'd," Obi-Wan finally said, just when Jango was thinking he might doze off.
Jango squinted his eyes open and glanced over at his cyare, taking a moment to try and figure out what Obi-Wan wasn't saying from his tone. Finally, he admitted, "I didn't think you'd want me to."
Obi-Wan let out a long groan and hid his face against Jango's shoulder. "Alpha's right," he muttered, and he sounded almost upset about that.
Jango considered everything he knew about Obi-Wan, the way he'd been just as uncertain and hesitant as Jango, when they first got together, neither of them certain where the limits were, how far they could push something before they pushed the other away.
Jango swallowed and whispered, "You were waiting for me to comm, and I was trying to give you space."
"I don't want space," Obi-Wan snarled against Jango's shoulder, and then stiffened.
"This is too much space," Jango guessed.
Obi-Wan nodded and he tightened his hands against Jango's shoulders, seeming to drop a little more of his weight over Jango. "It's been ten years, Jango," he whispered, and the sheer agony in his voice brought tears to Jango's eyes.
"I'm sorry," Jango whispered. "Ni ceta, ner alor'kara."
Obi-Wan took a slow, careful breath, the one that meant he was combatting the urge to yell. (Jango would have deserved it, but he knew Obi-Wan didn't like yelling, had learnt before Manda'yaim to calm himself before his temper could get the best of him, no matter how deserved.) "I need you to comm me," he said.
"Every day," Jango swore without hesitation.
Obi-Wan huffed, and Jango suspected he'd just had a kiss pressed against his shoulder, though it was hard to tell through the layers of tunics. "I want you to sleep in here."
"Okay," Jango agreed. And then had to ask, "Boba?"
"There's a cot in Anakin's room for him."
Somehow, Jango knew that cot had been there since before Obi-Wan had left to fight, expecting Jango to move in while he was gone. Likely, it was the same reason his handprint had already been in the database to grant him entry to Obi-Wan's flat. "How does your ad feel about that?"
Obi-Wan huffed. "He likes Boba a lot better now he's had to deal with Alpha for three months," he replied, tone dry and underlined with a well-hidden urge to laugh.
Jango chuckled, and felt his cyare's shoulders shake as he gave in to his own amusement. "Seventeen's the worst of the Alphas," he said. "Kih'utreekov shot one of the Kaminiise when they were four. Almost got decommissioned in their kih'vod's place."
Obi-Wan stiffened and leant up again, pale eyes boring into Jango's as he repeated, "Decommissioned."
Something in Jango's stomach leapt up into his throat, and he tried to swallow it back down, to little avail. "Yes," he rasped. "The Kaminiise, if one of the clones wasn't exactly to their specifications, they would-" He had to stop, choking on the word like bile, because he'd been trying so hard not to remember the horrors he hadn't fought near hard enough against.
"They've been murdering the clones," Obi-Wan whispered, horror and grief shining in the tears gathering in his eyes. "For being different."
Jango swallowed again, against the bile burning his throat, and said, "Or reconditioning, for the ones who don't follow orders or acted out."
Seventeen had almost been reconditioned four times-almost the entire Alpha-batch had faced reconditioning at one point or another, especially after the later batches had got old enough for the Kaminiise to realise how much more independent the Alphas really were-but Jango had fought against it, fought so hard to let Kal's Nulls and his Alphas keep their minds, to not be thrown away when the Kaminiise decided they preferred the blind obedience of the later batches.
A teardrop splashed against Jango's cheek, and Obi-Wan gasped out a near-silent, "Haar'chak." And then, louder, "Jango, can you- There's a, we have a Councillor on Kamino, right now. Overseeing everything. Can you come with me, to the Council? Make sure they know what to watch for?"
"Of course," Jango agreed, because of course he wanted to help the Jet'alore protect the clones; Ka'ra knew they couldn't do worse than he had.
"I didn't know," Obi-Wan whispered, horror in his tone. "We didn't know."
Well, no, of course the Kaminiise wouldn't tell the jetiise that there had been 'inferior products' that had needed to be 'disposed of', or that there had been clones with enough of a mind to attack the Kaminiise or members of the Cuy'val Dar when they felt threatened, or one of their vode had been threatened. The Kaminiise had prided themselves on the 'lack of flaws in our products'.
Jango reached up and cupped Obi-Wan's face, tugging him down and leaning up so he could press their foreheads together. "You know, now," he whispered, as Obi-Wan relaxed into the mirshmure'cya. "You'll fix it."
You'll do better than I did, he didn't say, but he thought it.
"We will fix it, Jango," Obi-Wan corrected.
Jango didn't argue, reminded himself that there were holes in his memories and the twisted remains of compulsions that his mir'baar'ur insisted he'd been fighting long before Obi-Wan and Baar'ur Che removed what they could.
"You did the best that you could have, under the circumstances," xe had told him, over and over again, like xe knew it would probably take years before Jango could completely accept that everything he'd done over the past decade hadn't been his fault. Or, at least, not entirely his fault.
Obi-Wan took him to the Jet'alore, and it turned out that they'd had plenty of questions for Jango, about things on Kamino, but had been warned away by his mir'baar'ur, and xe had been passing on what information xe could on Jango's behalf. But there was so much they didn't know, things they should have known, had they requested this army, in truth.
As if Jango had needed more proof, now his mind was mostly his own again, that no jetii would willingly set out to create life, only for the sake of sending it to die.
(Even when he'd hated the Jet'tsad, a part of him had always known that they had not commissioned the clones. Even if that was the lie the Kaminiise and Jango himself had kept speaking.)
He and Boba moved into Obi-Wan's flat the next day, and Jango relaxed a little bit more at being surrounded by his cyare's belongings and scent, at being allowed to sleep next to him again, to watch his expression smooth out as he meditated, to steal a sip of his morning tea even though Jango didn't care for it, but the way Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose at him and rolled his eyes as he stole his leaf water back had always been precious to him.
Obi-Wan and Anakin left again, not quite a month later, and Jango and Boba spread out a little more in the flat, trying to fill the empty spaces, and once again found themselves retreating to the garden, where it was never quiet.
Two months later, Jango got word that his cyare had died on Jabiim, that Anakin was still down there, trapped by electrical storms that grounded any ships that attempted to break atmosphere.
He...blacked out, for a while, lost track of himself, and came to on Slave I, strapped into his beskar'gam for the first time since he'd shot Zam. There was no sign of Boba, thankfully, but his nav comp was set for Serenno, not Jabiim, and he couldn't quite understand why he'd made that choice, but he left it, because he honestly couldn't say what he could do for Anakin that other jetiise and whatever clones were in orbit or on the ground couldn't.
And then he landed and came face-to-face with Dooku for the first time since Galidraan-
No. Since Kamino.
"Well," Dooku said. "This is unexpected. Welcome back to the Confederacy, Fett."
Jango saw red.
Somehow, he made it back to the Jet'yaim, although he had no memories of getting back in the Slave I or setting the nav comp. According to Bant-who had assigned herself his baar'ur and had apparently decided that the only way to ensure he didn't fall back into a depressed funk, was to let Boba in to see him at all hours; she was right, of course-they had honestly believed he wouldn't make it when they sent up a team to find out why he'd slid into orbit and not responded to any hails, but something in him had kept fighting, had refused to give up.
Two weeks after he woke up, they got news that Obi-Wan was still alive, and Jango had known that something-the Ka'ra or the Manda or his cyare's Force-had refused to let him die, because he'd hurt Obi-Wan enough.
Someone had been smart enough to put Obi-Wan in Jango's room, once they'd got him to the Halls of Healing and he was out of surgery, so Jango didn't have to push himself too hard when he climbed out of his bed and into his cyare's, curling up next to him and hiding his face against Obi-Wan's throat.
"Were you stupid?" Obi-Wan rasped, his voice scratchy and ruined, and Jango didn't need to ask to know his cyare had been screaming.
He nodded.
Obi-Wan sighed and tried to shift, letting out a quiet, pained grunt.
Jango leant up a bit to help him, carefully shifting them both so they could lie with their foreheads pressed together and their hands laced together between their chests.
Bant let out a loud, aggravated sigh when she found them, but then she requested a larger bed and had some other jetii baar'ure come and help her move them, so Jango and Obi-Wan could continue to lie together as they healed.
"Does this mean you're gonna get married now?" Boba demanded when Anakin brought him to visit.
Anakin choked and Jango sighed.
And Obi-Wan, his heart and his guiding star, smiled and rasped, "Maybe."
(Jango didn't ask what his cyare had gone through, what that skanah had done to him that had him rethinking his vows-he wasn't certain he was strong enough-but a part of him lit up at the possibility; Jango had never needed to speak the riduurok with Obi-Wan to know the jetii loved him, but he had wondered, in the dark spaces of travel between distant stars, if Obi-Wan didn't need that promise of forever, despite himself.)
Chapters 1) Satine Kryze 2) Dexter Jettster 3) Quinlan Vos 4) Alpha-17 5) Cody (CC-2224) -1) Kaminoans Glossary
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