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un-fett-ered · 1 year

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Moto. Moto all I wish for is that you would write a Bobadinnec fic in which Fennec makes fun of Boba for mooning over Din and battlefield marrying him, as if Fennec didn’t take one look at him and think “hmmm I think I’d like the shiny model too.”

Hfjskfjd I, too, wish I would write a Bobadinnec fic! Here's a slice anyway.

Fennec Shand hasn’t observed greater krayt dragons enough to know about their mating habits, but watching Boba Fett now, she can’t imagine it’s much different.

Apex predators courting other apex predators need to be careful. Boba’s demeanor with Din Djarin is polite, bordering on tentative. But there’s an underlying urge that penetrates the polite veneer in ways only she would notice. Boba reveals his greed drive in the way he fluctuates between taking up as much space as possible and donating some. The way his hands rest on his blaster but his helmet or spaulders will incline to Djarin like reaching hands. The way he can’t seem to take anything other than a wide stance, like he’s showing off the goods.

He and Djarin have been talking for over ten minutes. Fennec can’t lip read through the helmets, but she can read Boba—she’s been reading Boba ever since he grew his first patchy facial hair—and the Mandalorian isn’t half as enigmatic as he believes.

It’s cute. It doesn’t look like either of them are fully aware of what’s happening. Or if they are, they’re both hiding it out of a hunter’s common sense; unwise to make assumptions in unfamiliar territory. They may wear similar armor but the men underneath are different breeds. Djarin is from a land out of time, and Boba’s uniqueness is a point he’s constantly making.

She hopes they’re not totally clueless, because Boba especially could use the… comfort, she supposes? Djarin would offer more than mere distraction. Especially after he rallied so valiantly for Boba. She knows Boba appreciates it as deeply as he appreciates her and everyone else who showed up to fight the Pykes. After the kind of reputation Boba earned, to try to accumulate allies and build an organization now, in Jabba’s old territory no less—it was never going to be less than impossible. Din has no idea just how much of a knight in shining armor he really is.

Boba has to appreciate the whole “good dad” thing, too. She knows all about Jango Fett. He sounds like a prick, but Boba talks about him like he personally carved the galaxy. Djarin, as far as Fennec can tell, is as good a father as they come. He and the kid make quite the picture: tiny claws wrapped around one gloved finger, Djarin’s thumb occasionally stroking the kid’s hand. Those big ears are constantly swiveling between Boba and Din as if he, too, has noticed what’s going on between them. And he’s getting antsy, wiggling in Din’s arm.

It’s the perfect excuse for Boba to, yep—there he goes, stepping into Djarin’s space to press a finger into the kid’s reach. Djarin shifts his weight from one hip to the other, looking from Boba to Grogu to Boba and back. Boba’s attention is all on Grogu; he’s good with kids. Or he likes them a lot more than Fennec does. He’s already practically adopted the Mods.

Now the kid is laughing and Djarin’s helmet is tilting and, yeah—he’s utterly endeared. Boba’s charisma is taking effect. Djarin’s even shifting again, like he wants to get closer. Those hips sure are expressive. Maybe they’re just extra-showy because they’re offset by those wide, wide shoulders.

Fennec tilts her head at her own thoughts. Huh.

Regardless—Djarin may be a tall drink of spotchka, but he’s responsive to Boba’s presence. Bending like a thirsty plant. She can sympathize; Boba’s power spans far beyond his physical form. He’s been like that even before he packed on the muscle. She wasn’t into his posturing coldness back when they were both running bounties. Now he’s—

Now Boba has taken his hand back but hasn’t moved away. She’s never seen Djarin allow someone to stand so close to him. Usually the man’s personal bubble is like a second set of beskar. But he seems so relaxed and—

He’s laughing.

It’s short but unmistakable. The shaking chest, the sway of his helmet. Almost bashful laughter. Suddenly it’s ten years ago and Fennec is watching Boba work his charm on several working girls at once in the smoky tunnels of the palace.

If she were betting, she’d put money on Boba going for the flirtatious touch next. Something simple for Djarin: a shoulder clasp, or a pat on his arm that lingers too long. She doesn’t know much about the Mandalorian’s religious beliefs, but she’d wager that if Boba did something like take the chin of Djarin’s helmet, Djarin would have a meltdown. Maybe drop the kid.

She watches.

Any second now.

Then Boba suddenly looks her way.

She doesn’t move her head. She’d only been glancing sidelong at them, and is wearing her own helmet besides. No way Boba can tell where her eyes are pointed.

He turns back to Djarin. She smiles.

Then frowns—Boba is walking away.

She almost throws up her hands. Boba is coming towards her and Djarin is focused on the kid, who’s babbling animatedly at him, no doubt proclaiming the same thing that’s running through Fennec’s head now: just what in the hell was that?

Boba’s face is as unreadable as ever when he takes off his helm. “The Mandalorian is going to see the medic droid.”

Fennec falls into step beside him, removing her own helmet. She says nothing.

“He took some bad hits.”

Nothing.

“Might be able to convince him to rest at the palace for a night. He’s stubborn.”

Still nothing.

Without looking at her, Boba sighs and narrows his eyes. “What.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Boba sounds tired beyond his years. “When you don’t say anything, it usually means you have something to say.”

Fennec inwardly balks—since when has Boba started knowing her? “I have no comment regarding Din Djarin’s health.”

“Hmph. Very well.”

They walk in silence for a moment.

“But if you want him to stay—”

“There it is,” Boba mutters to himself.

“—Then you’d have more luck asking for his help."

Boba looks at her. “Again? He’s already done enough. And he’s injured.”

Fennec shrugs, casting her gaze like she has any reason to scan the wreckage so attentively. “Just an idea, boss.”

Silence again.

She almost feels pity for the long day Boba has had when he sighs again. “Why should I ask his help?”

“If you try to convince him he needs help, he’ll just take offense. Better to ask him to assist with something. Doesn’t have to be big. Stars know there’s plenty to do, and not all of it strenuous. There are things he could do while he’s wearing some bacta patches. And it’d get him to stick around long enough for the prospect of staying the night to sound more practical.”

Fennec looks at Boba expecting to see exasperated suspicion, but instead she gets the loth cat who caught the keedee.

Now it’s her turn to narrow her eyes. “What.”

“You’ve thought about this.”

“Yeah, just now. You’re not the only one who can think before he speaks.”

“No, you’ve thought about it. You’ve strategized.”

“It comes naturally to some of us.”

“You were watching us, weren’t you?”

Fennec gives Boba a look that’s meant to be a warning, but Boba is fearless. And wily—it’s one of the reasons she likes him so much. He only grins at her, and lets his eyes run down her body before cooly turning back to the horizon. She’d be lying if she said it had no effect. They’ve spent enough nights together for her to admit: Boba’s found his way under her skin.

“Don’t know why you’re smiling,” she says, “You put on a terrible performance.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you weren’t trying to work him like a Cloud City stripper?”

“One time—”

“That I witnessed. Come on, Boba. You played with his kid. From you, that’s practically a marriage proposal.”

Boba’s silence is pointed this time.

Fennec looks at him. “What’s that face for?”

Boba turns his face even further away from her, brows raising, looking up at the sky.

“What did you do?"

“Nothing,” he mutters. Then, remembering he’s the daimyo of Mos Espa and not a fourteen-year-old boy, he clears his throat. “Mandalorians are fond of vows. Especially when there’s a battle involved. He… it probably meant nothing.”

“What meant nothing?”

“We thought we were cornered. He said…” Boba scoffs. “It’s his creed. He said, ‘I’m with you until we both fall.’”

“Boba.”

“He said, ‘we’ll both die in the name of honor.’”

“Boba.”

Boba lets out a sigh like a rumbling frist wolf. “It’s just his creed.”

Fennec shakes her head. If they weren’t in public, she might be laughing. “You’re so fucked.��

He doesn’t respond.

“Let’s say he didn’t just pledge to you his eternal loyalty—which, he did. You love that honor bantha shit. I’m surprised I didn’t hear your heart beating all the way in Mos Eisley.”

Boba still doesn’t respond.

“And the way he is, you probably had him swooning all the way back on Tython. No wonder he said it was on the house.”

Boba looks at her. “He turned down the money?”

Fennec does laugh this time, unable to help herself. “You’re so fucked.”

Boba turns away and growls.

Fennec lets him boil for a moment, then speaks lightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

“Handle what.”

“If we leave it up to you, he’ll be back on that ship before sunsdown and you’ll never see him again.”

“I don’t need your help, Shand,” Boba mutters warningly.

“You think you can keep that shiny stack of muscle all to yourself?” Fennec smirks at him. “I thought you agreed to cut me in on the profits.”

Boba glares. “After all that, you—”

“At least I have dignity.”

“Spying from the shadows is dignified, is it.”

She ignores him. “I think you’ll find my methods effective. You’re just not used to hunting big game.”

“He’s a man, not a krayt dragon.”

“Like there’s a difference.”

Boba sighs for the eightieth time and, as they get closer to the speeders, puts his helmet back on. His vocoder rasps, “Just go easy on him.”

“Don’t worry, boss.” Fennec puts her own helmet on, grinning. “You’re both in good hands.”

#fic recs

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un-fett-ered · 1 year

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Basically just a silly little thing I wrote about Cody and his supernatural ability to get his mitts on absolutely everyones light saber

Early on in the war it became very evident Cody was going to need to invest in a lightsaber clip. What with Obi-wan dropping it absolutely kriffing everywhere.

Then he was promoted to marshal commander, which was technically a rank reserved only for padawans, which, if you squinted a little, made Cody a padawan, technically. Maybe. And as a padawan, well, wasn't he entitled to having a lightsaber or two? And turns out, Cody was really good at acquiring lightsabers.

The battlefield was insane. Everything was moving so fast all Cody was aware of was whichever droid was currently in front of him and occasionally whatever Obi-wan was doing up ahead. He thinks his general was maybe fighting one of those sith. He seemed to be managing himself just fine. Another clanker exploded and he ducked down behind some cover to avoid getting hit by anything. For a brief second he looked down and his brain registered the shape of a lightsaber hilt. Obi-wan would probably be needing it back at some point. He clipped it to his belt without a second thought. Later after it was all over he tracked down where Kenobi was being forcibly restrained in the medbay in order to return his lightsaber to him. Just as he was handing it over he noticed that Obi-wan already had his lightsaber secured at his side. Only then did he register how different it felt in his grip compared to the saber he was usually handing back to its owner. Curved and slightly slimmer. Obi-wan looked down at it and muttered “Ventress might be wanting that back”, then up at Cody and said “you can just put it in my quarters, I'll have to send it back to the council to be confiscated with all the other sith weapons we've collected over the years''. Cody nodded, with no real intention of doing so, clipping it back to his belt. He's a busy man, who can fault him for forgetting to unclip it and put it in Obi-wan's quarters. Looks like he was going to need to invest in a second lightsaber clip.

Didn't that Savage fellow have a double bladed saber staff? He must have replaced it because the Zabrak Cody was shooting at was certainly wielding something a lot shorter and with only one blade. Obi-wan jumped in front of him, saving Cody from a painful end via glowing hot blade. He took the opportunity to circle around behind him, shuffling back to get some distance so he wouldn't be within slicing range. Something knocked against his foot and he glanced down to see a saber hilt. A seriously damaged saber hilt, smoking from the back end. Ah. So his saber staff had been cut in half. Sadly this half wasn't the one with the bit that attaches to the belt clips. He'd have to fix that later. For now he wedged it between his belt and his armor, part of the saber digging into the bit between where the side of the armor covering his torso and the armor covering the top of his legs left a sliver of him unarmored to enable for movement. It was especially annoying if he crouched down, the movement then pushing the saber up causing it to almost fall out of its semi secure spot. Yes, he would definitely need to get something to fix that. And, it seemed, yet another saber clip.

This was the last karking straw. Obviously Kenobi didn't need his saber that badly with the frequency it wound up in Cody’s hands. He was marshall commander, not a maid in charge of cleaning up Obi-wan's messes. Finders keepers and all that. He clipped it to his belt.

The glowing red blade cut through the clankers so easily. Like butter. He wasn't the biggest fan of the curved hilt of Ventress’ former blade though. He honestly preferred Kenobis but he had snatched his own saber back from Cody’s waist earlier in the fight. Whatever, itd wind up back on Cody’s belt soon enough. Probably very soon if he knew his general at all. He watched Kenobi deflect blaster bolts left and right. Force, imagine how useful it would be if he could also deflect blaster bolts. He owned three whole lightsabers now, and was technically kinda sorta pretty much a padawan. He should learn to use them to their fullest extent. Any good soldier knows how to fully utilize all tools they may encounter. He could probably get Ahsoka to teach him. She had multiple lightsabers as well after all, and also was chaotic enough to be willing to teach a clone trooper to use lightsabers, rules and regulations be damned. A blaster bolt shot the lightsaber right out of Kenobi's hand and sent it flying right back into Cody’s.

“You’re grounded young man”. Anakin stared at him in disbelief, his mouth gaping like a fish. “Wh- No! You can't do that to me, you're not my dad” he managed to splutter out. Cody turned his head to Obi-wan who was watching the whole thing with a barely concealed grin as he sipped his caf. “Anakin, listen to Cody” he oh so beautifully chimed in. Cody's grin sharpened. Anakin looked somewhere between complete disbelief and falling to the darkside right then and there. Cody may not hold the authority of a parent but Obi-wan sure as hell did. Cody held out a hand and said three simple words that he swore sent Anakin's eyes flashing gold. “Your lightsaber please”

Great. This Cyborg fuck again, flaunting his multiple lightsabers around. Well two could play at that game. Cody grabbed two of the sabers from his increasingly heavy belt, lighting them up, yellow and red. Grievous and Cody locked eyes and, in sync, said to each other. “These will make a fine addition to my collection”

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