Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As he watched the sun rise over the Coruscanti skyline, Obi-Wan Kenobi stifled his fifth yawn in as many minutes. It’s such an honour , Bant had gushed when the request came through. I’ll pray to the Force for your sanity, had been Quin’s addition. All honour and sanity (or lack thereof) aside, Obi-Wan was very, very, very bored. Siting in as the first Padawan Observer on the High Council was an honour - one he was infinitely glad to have earned - but did the meetings have to start at six in the morning?

Focusing back on the circle of chairs in front of him, Obi-Wan concluded that whoever came up with the timing must have been a Master trying to get their teenage Padawan out of bed earlier. There was no other explanation for it. Trying to have some stories to tell his fellow Padawans, the twenty-two-year-old focused back on the conversation at hand.

Master Windu was currently speaking - likely about Mandalore, given the numerous headlines displayed on the holoprojector. A week prior, Jango Fett had challenged his father for the Darksaber and won, claiming the title of Mand’alor. It was expected, even anticipated that Fett would succeed Jaster Mereel, even though titles were not hereditary in Mandalorian space. The man was competent, skilled, and had the support of both the military and the people (regardless of what certain people Senators thought, there was a difference between the two). He would be a good king.

Their problem was that he was a new king, an unknown player in galactic politics. “... and thus we need to ensure that relations with Mandalore do not worsen. If we can improve them, then so much the better,” Master Windu finished. Obi-Wan glanced around the chamber again. Masters Rancis and Mundi looked troubled, Masters Yan and Sifo-Dyas were obviously communicating via bond, and the rest were quietly debating possible solutions. 

Feeling his legs grow numb, Obi-Wan shifted minutely on his seat. Small twinges of soreness shot up his spine from his pelvis, threatening to drag his mind back to yesterday when Kote had — Obi-Wan’s eyes shot open. Oh, now there was an idea. He shot a quick glance around the room to ensure no one was paying attention to him and took out his comm. With quick motions, he scrolled down his contact list and opened his chat feed with Kote.

Obi-Wan: U free rn?

It only took a few moments for him to reply.

Kote: No, why?

Kote: U trying to start smth? ;)

Obi-Wan stifled a laugh at the emoticon but apparently wasn’t quiet enough. “Padawan Kenobi, are you even paying attention?” came Master Mundi’s exasperated voice. Looking up, Obi-Wan saw that the entire council had turned to look at him.

Swearing silently at himself, Obi-Wan said, “Of course, Master Mundi. Master Windu expressed the need for betterment in relations with the Mandalorian people and government, and I am pursuing an avenue that may accomplish that.”

Master Rancis cocked an eyebrow. “And you believe a Padawan such as yourself capable of single-handedly doing so?”

“Not single-handedly, no,” Obi-Wan replied passively. But seeing as I’m one dick, three months, and seven hotel rooms ahead of the rest of you, I figured I might as well try, he said internally.

Half the Jedi in the room choked on nothing at all, another quarter delved into suspicious coughing fits, and the rest just stared at him. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” said Obi-Wan, completely resigned.

Master Fisto, the newest full member of the Council, broke into hysterical giggles. “Erm, yes,” he said. “Out of curiosity, who’s dick is it?” he said, breaking off into laughter by the end of the sentence.

Obi-Wan hid his now-flaming face in his hands. “Kote Fett,” he mumbled.

“I’m terribly sorry,” said Master Yan, “but did you just imply that you’ve been sleeping with the Crown Prince of Mandalore for the past three months?”

“No, I did not,” he replied.

“But you just said you were sleeping with Cody Fett.”

“Yes. Firstly, it’s Kote, not Cody. Secondly, Mandalore does not have Crown Princes or Crown Princesses as anyone can challenge anyone for any position or title. Thirdly, Kote’s father wasn’t Mand’alor until a week ago, and lastly, we both used pseudonyms for the first two weeks, so at first, I didn’t know Kote was a part of Mandalors’s ruling family.”

Master Yan gave him another look . “Does Qui-Gon know?” he asked.

Obi-Wan winced. “He knows I’m seeing someone?” he offered.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” interjected Master Windu, looking Completely Done with the proceedings.

“I did tell someone, I told Quin,” Obi-Wan protested. “And to be fair, it wasn’t relevant until a week ago. Given that this is the first Council meeting I have had the ability to attend since then, I would say that I brought it to the attention of this august body at its earliest convenience.” He smiled at Master Windu, using the bland I-Deal-With-Politicians smile Master Yan had taught him.

“Grandpadawan,” said Master sighed. “The Vos boy has not and does not count as telling an adult, you know this.”

“I feel like I should be insulted on his behalf, but nothing you said is false.”

“Now, what avenue were you “pursuing”?” he asked.

A grin split Obi-Wan’s face. Master Windu noticed, sighed, and said, “If you use that as an innuendo, Kenobi, I swear to the Force you will be doing laps around the Temple until your Grandpadawans have Grandpadawans.”

“Well, there goes that idea,” Obi-Wan said lightly, eliciting some laughs. “I was planning on comming Kote and co-ordinating with him on how best to pitch this to his father. He says he’s available, so I can do that now if you’d like?”

And thus the debate began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kote glanced at his comm worriedly. Across the cubikad board, Rex raised an eyebrow at him. “What is so important on your comm, ori’vod?” he asked.

Kote sighed. Either he told Rex now and got the teasing over with, or Rex got their other siblings involved - possibly even their Buir. “A friend of mine hasn’t answered me. It’s not like them to leave a conversation half-finished, so I’m starting to worry.”

Rex “hmm” ed and moved one of his blades, knocking Kote off that side of the board. “It could be they got interrupted on their end?” he said.

Kote flipped a red-coloured blade in his hand. “Could be,” he conceded. He placed the knife carefully on the top of the cube, finishing his opening gambit. 

Rex swore, seeing that Kote was now placed to wipe three-quarters of his knives from the game. “Shabuir,’ he said vehemently.

Kote hummed, contemplating the board. The game continued, Rex losing slowly but surely. The rising sun cast their guest chambers in a warm glow, the reflections from the Coruscanti high-line skyscrapers sending glinting dots of light across their board. Kote pondered the board and shifted his hips to dispel all the lingering soreness with a tiny smile. If there was one good thing about Buir journeying to Coruscanta, it was getting to see Obi-Wan without having to pray for the Ka’ra to make their paths intersect. Meeting up with the redhead was a definite bonus, even if the tedious meetings made him really miss his knives sometimes. Hopefully, he’d be able to see Obi-Wan this evening. Maybe, just maybe, he’d have enough courage to invite his bedmate on an actual date.

Just as Kote was about to make his final move and win (for the twelfth time in a row), his comm went off.

The chime told him it was a holocall, so he said his quick excuses to Rex and turned around to make the call. 

“Hello, Darling.” Obi-Wan’s voice was tinny coming from the speaker, but unmistakable his. As Kote’s mouth curved into a smile, he felt his scar tug at the skin around his left eye. 

“Su cuy’gar, Ob’ika,” he said. Behind him, Rex choked. Kote turned to see him coughing over his water bottle - his poor vod’ika had gulped at the worst possible moment. “You good?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

Rex nodded. “Ob’ika?” he asked. “As in “Ob’ika Who Left The Huge Hickey”? That Ob’ika?” 

On the other side of the line, Kote heard muffled swearing. He and Obi-Wan shared a look. Family.

“While it’s always lovely to see your face, I don’t get the feeling this is one of our normal calls,” he said, plastering a smirk over his face.

Rex jerked up. “Please don’t have comm sex when I’m in the room!” he yelled. Kote rolled his eyes again, both at his brother and at the hysterical laughter on the other end of the line.

“In all seriousness, what’s up?”

“On a scale of one to ten, how likely is your father to accept an alliance with the Jedi?” Kote’s eyebrows hit his hairline and Obi-Wan hurried to add on, “Not with the Republic as a whole, just the Jedi?”

Kote considered it for a grand total of fifteen seconds. “Well, he’s in a good mood today and I haven’t done anything to piss him off in the past few weeks, so I’ll see what I can do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jango was preparing for his meeting with the Senatorial delegation from Alderaan when Kote barged in, active holocomm in hand. “Buir, the Jetii’lor’e want to talk to you,’ he announced. Rex, as always, trailed behind Cody - this time with a huge osik-eating grin.

At a loss of anything else to say, he asked, “And the Jetii’lor’e have your comm frequency because…” he trailed off.

“They don’t!” Rex chirped. “But “Ob’ika” does!” he added in a sing-song voice. Kote sighed, clearly used to the teasing.

“And Ob’ika is…” Jango said, both confused and resigned to the answer.

As Kote connected his personal comm to the main hub, a new voice came through the speakers. “That would be me.” The holo image solidified to show a red-headed human in Jetii robes and a long braid trailing behind his right ear. What was a Jet’ika doing on a comm call with the Jetti’lor’e?

“He’s Kote’s hav’bur’cya!” Rex blurted, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Wait,” Jango said, images of his eldest coming home from a hunt with a truly impressive necklace of bruises flashing though his mind. “This is the person who-”

“-left the huge hickey three months ago!” Rex finished his sentence with glee. “Yep! This is him!”

The young man withstood the revelations with dignity but seemed resigned to everyone now knowing about his… personal business. Considering said business was with his son , he could understand the boy’s reluctance to share it - Jango was reluctant to hear of it.

Determined to put that thought out of his mind, at least for the time being, Jango said, “Kote said the Jetii Council wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes, we would,” came a voice from the background of the comm call. The close-up video of Obi-Wan became shaky and disoriented, before fizzing out and being replaced by a projection of the Jetii Council in their circle of chairs. “Mand’alor Fett, we were hoping to discuss the future of Mandalorian-Jedi relations with you, particularly in regards to the repatriation of artifacts from the Mando-Jedi wars.” The speaker was a dark-skinned near-human whom Jango could identify from the news as Mace Windu. 

Once the words sunk in, Jango had to swallow his surprise and the twinge of anger. What “artifacts”? How long had the Jetiise held on to them? Why wait so long? “Could you define that last part a bit more, Master Windu?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Master Nu?” Windu prompted, gesturing to another Council member.

“Good morning, Mand’alor,” she said with a textbook-perfect accent. Jango mentally raised an eyebrow at that - it was rare to only hear one source accent in modern Mando’a due to the semi-nomadic nature of Mando’ade. “As Head of the Archives,” and that would explain it, “I am better suited to answer your queries. During many conflicts between our peoples in the past, the Jedi of old appropriated numerous sets of armour, weapons, and anything else they believed contained strategic value.” A flare of rage lit up Jango’s spine. How dare these Jetiise sit there and act like that wasn’t his heritage they were holding onto- “Of course,” the Master continued, “during the past hundred years or so, as our relations with Mando’ade cooled from outright hostility to a general dislike, my predecessor did his best to catalogue all Mandalorian artifacts by age and clan before placing them in an environmentally sealed compartment of the Archives, awaiting the day they could be returned to their rightful inheritors.”

That brought Jango’s inner tirade to a halt. “I’m sorry,’ he said, holding onto his veneer of required politeness by the tips of his fingers. “Did you just imply that you’ve had my people’s birthright in cold storage for a century?”

The woman gave a wry smile. “We wished to keep it safe until we could return it to Mandalore with only minimal risk to the Jedi accompanying it.”

“Why wait for me to be Mand’alor? My Buir was the historian, it’s well known. Why would you wait for me to be Mand’alor?” he questioned.

“May I, Masters?” Kenobi interjected before any of them could speak. With their assent, he continued. “While your father is renowned for his academic proficiency and his love for the preservation of history, it was our understanding that his rule, especially the beginning, was controversial. The Supercommando Codex - while being a revolutionary piece of literature that changed the face of Mandalorian society on a galactic stage - was unpopular among the larger clans because it created limitations on their expansions and attached morality to things that were previously free game..” As Kenobi talked, Jango was mildly impressed - this kid knew his stuff. “Again, this is all from our perspective and understanding of the situation, so please inform me if I am incorrect.” He glanced at Jango uncertainly. Oh, by the Ka’ra, now he liked the kid.

“No, you’re pretty spot-on, actually,” he said. “Buir made a lot of changes that made a lot of people unhappy.” Jango unfolded his arms and leaned forwards on the holotable. “Now, how does that lead you to wait for him to be out of the picture.”

Kenobi ducked his head - likely to hide the blush Jango could see redden his ears - and continued. “Thank you Mand’alor. In short, Mand’alor Mereel’s reign was the most stability the Mandalorian sector had seen since the Dral’haan - I do hope I pronounced that correctly - and as such, the Jedi did not want to compromise it by introducing ourselves into Mandalorian politics. We feared that if he proposed a…” he searched for the proper word for a moment, “connection of any sort with the Jedi, it would be the straw that broke the eeopie’s back and send Mandalore back into the clan wars.” Kenobi took a fortifying breath. “You, however, gained power by the most traditional of means and have the full support of the clans - or at least enough of them that we outsiders can’t tell the difference.”

Jango cracked a smile at the attempted joke and was relieved to see tension bleed out of Kenobi’s shoulders. “And so you thought that since my base of power was more stable from the get-go, the suggestion might face less resistance coming from me,” he surmised. Already, the gears in his head began turning, thinking up ways to pitch this to the Chieftans. 

“Exactly,” said Kenobi, looking relieved that he hadn’t misstepped. 

“We understand if the proposal cannot go through immediately, but we had hoped to pitch the idea and begin your rule on a peaceful, if not hopeful, note,” said Windu.

“I will definitely keep it in mind, Master Jedi,” Jango said. “I have one question, though.” He faced Kenobi properly. “How does an apprentice come to know more about Mandalore and its political climate than the literal leaders of the Jedi Order?”

Kenobi’s blush deepened, the blue of the hologram rendering it to a shade similar to his robe. “Yes, Padawan,” drawled a human Master elegantly sprawled over his seat with one leg slung over the opposite knee. “Do tell us what prompted your sudden delve into Mandalorian literature.” The Master smirked knowingly at Kenobi and Jango very suddenly did not want to know. Behind him, Rex cackled like an anooba. When he was silenced a few moments later, Jango didn’t even have to turn around to know that Kote had just put his vod’ika into a gagged headlock.

“Ah, well, you see,” Kenobi began, all his previous composure gone. “Kote mentioned the codex once?” he said, although it sounded more like a question. “And he mentioned that it was kind of a big deal, so I searched it up on the holonet? And then I ordered a copy in Basic and Mando’a because I knew the Basic version would leave out a lot of the cultural nuance? And then I may have started teaching myself Mando’a from that edition of the Codex? I’m still learning, though, it’s slow going,’ he rushed to add.

“I’m sorry, what,” Jango said, completely deadpan. He turned to look at Kote, then had to hold back a laugh. His eldest was completely flabbergasted, his mouth hanging open like one of those deep-sea fish on Kamino. 

“You- you remembered?” Kote said, surprise turning his voice half an octave higher. Jango would find it objectively funny, except that it was his son stuttering over a Jetii.

“Well, yes,’ Kenobi said bashfully. “Even if you only mentioned it once, I could tell it meant a lot to you and, well,” he paused for a moment. “You’re kind of hard to forget, Dear.”

“Okay, nope, moving on! Padawan Kenobi, flirt on your own time and your own comm!” Windu groaned.

‘Oh, rest assured, I will,” the Jet’ika mumbled, clearly not intending for the mic to pick it up. Unfortunately for Jango, it did.

“If there’s nothing else we need the youngsters for, I’d be glad to set up a meeting between our Councils for further details,” Jango said, shooing his sons away.

“Very well,” said the sprawled-out Master. “Obi-Wan, you may go join your friends. However,” he said with one finger raised imperiously, “You must until I am present and filming to explain today’s events to Qui-Gon.” Who this Qui-Gon was, Jango couldn’t begin to guess. “For posterity.”

“Of course, Grandmaster,’ said Kenobi, his blush just starting to dissipate. “Mand’alor, Masters, farewell.” He turned to leave, then stopped and slowly turned back to face the projector again. “Kote? I’ll see you around?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,’ Kote said, voice scratchy. He cleared his throat, then said, “Yeah, I’d like that.” He waved his hand awkwardly. “Bye?”

“Ret’urcye mhi,” Kenobi said with a wave of his own.

“I said no flirting, Kenobi!” groaned Windu, the poor Jetii’s face hidden in his hands.

“I was just saying goodbye!”

“ Out.”

“I’m gone!” The door wooshed shut behind Kenobi. 

Jango turned to his sons, one besotted, the other mischievous. “You two,” he said, pointing at them then flinging his hand towards the door. “Out.”

“‘Lek, Buir!” said Rex. “Kote and I are about to have a long conversation, aren’t we?”

“On the mats, maybe!” replied his eldest, shaking out of his daydream and chasing Rex out of the room.

With a heavy sigh, Jango turned back to the Jetiise where he was met by twelve sympathetic faces. A part of his mind was laughing hysterically - he never thought he’d see the day he would be bonding over the idiocies of one’s children, yet here he was. 

After a few more seconds of silence, he said “So that definitely happened.”

Chapter Text

Contrary to popular belief, Obi-Wan was not hiding. Was he currently in a very secluded portion of the Room of a Thousand Fountains? Well, yes. Was his Master and/or most of the Jedi he knew currently looking for him? A quick check on his Force-bonds revealed that yes, they were. But he wasn’t hiding from them! It was… a strategic retreat. Yes, that’s what he was doing. 

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, you want me to what ?” Obi-Wan asked, completely deadpan. He was, once again, seated in the Council chambers. Apparently, yesterday’s disaster hadn’t gotten him kicked off his observer seat - he suspected at least three separate wagers, with confirmation on one. He had just hoped that everyone would forget about the Incident and move on - no such luck.

“We would like you to head the Mandalorian repatriation mission,” his Grandmaster repeated with just a hint of smugness. “Your expertise in Mandalorian affairs makes you the perfect candidate.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “Even over the highly-qualified Knight and Master-Archivists?” he asked, looking pointedly at Madame Nu, who fixed him with the tried and true Serene Jedi Face. he sighed internally. Make that four wagers, two confirmed.

“We believe that will be an important formative experience for you, Padawan Kenobi,” she replied. “Given that you are an extremely capable Senior Padawan who has already proven himself to be an adept negotiator, we believed that this assignment would be fairly simple for you. Are we incorrect?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She was perfectly poised in her seat, not a single hair out of place.

Obi-Wan sighed. “For one,” he said regretting the words before they even left his mouth, “the fact that I am sleeping with Kote Fett is, at the very least, a conflict of interest - if not outright compromising me with anything officially regarding Mandalore. And for another, the Mandalorians may not want me to be on this team, given my age, inexperience, and again, my involvement with their beloved Prince . My hesitance has less to do with my competence and more to do with the fact that - contrary to popular opinion - I do not have a death wish.”

“Excellent points, Padawan Kenobi,” said Master Windu. Oh, thank the Force, Obi-Wan thought, relieved. “However, they are made obsolete by the fact that you were requested by Mand’alor Jango Fett himself.” 

Obi-Wan whimpered a bit in mortification, hiding his face in his hands. “Why me?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” Grandmaster Yan began in a tone that would seem dry to all who didn’t know him, “you impressed him with your proficient knowledge of Mandalorian politics and recent history, as well as your willingness to learn his language in order to gain a better understanding of his father’s magnum opus.” The quirk of his moustache betrayed a smile that would be a full-blown grin on anybody else.

Obi-Wan stared in shock at the one person he thought he could count on to get him out of this mess. “Grandmaster, you’re not helping!” he cried.

“Helping your pride, no,” the Serrenoean hummed. “Your personal life is another matter.”

“GRANDMASTER!”

The Council broke into another round of laughter at his bright-red face. Obi-Wan knew none of them meant it cruelly, all their Force-signatures radiated joy and contentment - and not a small amount of mirth - but the feeling of being laughed at still stung. He wrapped his hurt in layers of shielding to examine later and did his best to stay on task in his observations of the Council, thankful that they moved on from the Mandalore situation quickly.

Luckily for Obi-Wan, the meeting ended not too long after that. Or rather, he was excused from the meeting fairly soon thereafter. Armed with a newly-freed schedule, he quickly made his escape through the vents to the Temple’s exterior walls. Once among the howling winds of Coruscant’s skyways, Obi-Wan let himself breathe deeply for a moment. 

Force, he missed Kote right about now.

The growling of his stomach reminded him of the last time he’d eaten - latemeal last night. Master Gui-Gon couldn’t cook to save his life - a fact known from experience - and Obi-Wan had no wish to test the speed of the temple’s gossip network in one of the refectories, so here he was, planning for a post-meeting snack. 

Sending a quick comm, Obi-Wan took off in a path he’d know Force-blind and blindfolded towards the one place on Coruscant apart from the Jedi Temple that felt like home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been over a day and Kote was still hidden away in his room. He’d snuck around to get food to avoid Rex - Jan’buir was in meetings for most of the day so he wasn’t an issue.

But it was still exhausting. He’d put his comm on silent after the messages from his vode had begun flooding in. On the desk in front of him was the dagger he was going to give to Obi-Wan… eventually. There was a plan in place. 

Ka’ra, he loved his family, but sometimes he seriously considered the merits of fratricide.

Especially in the case of blonde mir’osikla vod’ikase who liked to stir the pot and tell the rest of their aliit something Kote was not ready to share yet .

Knowing that Rex probably had good intentions or was caught up in the excitement did little to soothe the sting of his privacy being violated like that. All the plans he’d had just a few hours ago - ask to formally court Obi-Wan, introduce him to Kote’s aliit on his own terms , say the vows after Obi-Wan’s Knighting, adopt a few ade along the way - all of that was now tossed out the window.

It wasn’t fair.

He was distracted from his melancholy by a ping from his comm. He’d muted all conversations with his aliit but not the comm itself, so it was likely from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan: Headed 2 Dex. U down for firstmeal?

Kote smiled to himself - what he wouldn’t give to be able to call this man his cyare for real. He sent back:

Kote: omw

When he arrived at the diner, Obi-Wan was already seated in a booth near the back. Obi-Wan saw him walk in with a smile and a wave, beckoning him over.

“Kote, I-”

“I’m so -” they said at the same time, then froze. “You first,” Kote said with a small laugh.

“Kote, I’m sorry about yesterday, I didn’t think past the moment and I realize that it’s caused a shitstorm for you and-” Obi-Wan said, rambling on in an effort to show his sincerity.

“Woah, Obi-Wan, it’s okay,” Kote replied, leaning across the table and catching Obi-Wan’s hand in his. “I know, you only thought of the good that could come, not about the ramifications for us. I’m not angry with you. Rex, on the other hand…” he said, relieved when Obi-Wan cracked a smile.

“Still,” Obi-Wan said with a self-deprecating sigh, “none of this would have happened if I’d just kept my mouth shut.”

Leaning back into the synth-leather seat, Kote said, “You’re right.” Obi-Wan startled backwards, obviously not expecting that reaction. “If you hadn’t told your Council about us, the beskar in your vaults might have been stuck there for another century, two, five, maybe even a millennium. Jetiise and Mando’ade might have kept on hating and killing each other. But because you spoke up, we have a chance at true peace between our people - not just a ceasefire.” He smiled widely at Obi-Wan. “In the face of that, some temporary lack of privacy is a small price to pay.”

“Well, I suppose when you put it like that…” replied Obi-Wan hesitantly.

“Oh, just take the compliment, you insufferable Jetii!” Kote mock-yelled.

Obi-Wan’s head tilted back in peals of laughter. Kote couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“I suppose, my Dear,” said Obi-Wan, completely unaware of the butterflies his words set off in Kote’s stomach. Please let him mean it, he prayed, Ka’ra, please don’t let it just be in my head.

“Obi-Wan! Kote! You didn’t tell me you were coming!” Dex chose that moment to pop up by their table. Kote jumped in his seat, suddenly realizing how close he and Obi-Wan had gotten. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Sorry, Dex. It was a bit spontaneous on our end.”

The Besalisk waved him off with both right hands. “Ah, it’s no big deal. Wait here, I’ll get you the special!” he called out, already turning back to the kitchen. Kote watched with amusement as the door slid shut behind him, only to squeak open a moment later for a single hand to poke through, shaking a finger at them. “And don’t you even think about paying!”

Kote watched Obi-Wan shake his head in amusement. “How does he turn a profit, I wonder.”

“Yeah, he never lets us pay,” Kote agreed with a laugh. “But in all seriousness,” he said, “please don’t feel bad about yesterday.” He really hoped this wouldn’t come as a block between the two of them, not when Kote was so close to having the confidence to court the jetii. “Let’s just enjoy today?”

Obi-Wan smiled softly, his eyes glimmering like precious gems. “I’d like that.” He beamed at Kote with another one of those small smiles that set Kote’s stomach alive with butterflies.

Kote smiled back almost instinctually. “So, what shenanigans have been afoot with your ilk?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in an imitation of Obi-Wan.

The Jetii snorted. “What, did you swallow a dictionary this morning, Darling?”

“I’m just quoting you!” Kote protested, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“I do not sound like that!”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

They fell into easy banter, joking back and forth as they waited for their food to arrive. When Dex came back, his bottom arms were laden with two plates of fried eggs, sausages, toasted bread, roasted tomatoes. He slid both of them a plate, then set down what could only be a size XXXL blue milkshake. 

Only one milkshake.

With two straws.

Kote felt his cheeks heat up with a deep flush, embarrassment and giddiness fluttering around his stomach in equal measure. A quick glance revealed that Obi-Wan’s face was as red as his hair, so at least he wasn’t the only flustered one. “Ah, is the second shake in the back?” Obi-Wan asked haltingly.

“Nope!” Dex announced cheerfully. “Lovebird special,” he said with a wink to the two of them. “Have fun!” With that, Dex spun back on his heel and delved back into the kitchen.

Kote and Obi-Wan sat in stunned silence for a few seconds before breaking into disbelieving chuckles. “I mean,” Kote said carefully, “he’s not completely wrong?”

Obi-Wan straightened suddenly, leaving Kote wondering if he’d screwed it up already. “I suppose “lovebirds” could describe us,” Obi-Wan replied, his eyes halfway between assessing and another emotion Kote didn’t dare name hope.

His heart pounding beneath his ribs, Kote licked his lips. “What if I wanted “lovebirds” to describe us, without the supposition?”

All the assessment left Obi-Wan’s eyes, leaving only shining hope. “I’d like that,” he said breathlessly, inadvertently repeating his earlier words. Obi-Wan swallowed audibly and reached across the table to grasp Kote’s hand in his. “I’d like that very much.”

Kote grinned ear to ear, giddiness running though every limb of his body. Obi-Wan had said yes! Obi-Wan had actually said yes! They were more than just kriffbuddies, more than- just more ! “You have no idea how happy that makes me, cyare.”

Obi-Wan blushed even more as he laced his fingers through Kote’s. “That means- um, that means “sweetheart”, right?” he asked.

Kote felt one side of his mouth tick upwards in a smirk. “Elek. There’s something I need to give you if we're making this official,” he said. Obi-Wan’s eyebrow ticked up again, making Kote laugh. “See, you did the eyebrow thing again!”

“Oh kriff you!” 

“Is that an invitation?”

“... After we eat.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jango rubbed his eyes tiredly. Kote had gone who-knows-where with only a “BRB” note pinned to the dining room’s table (or was it the sitting room’s table? Jango couldn’t keep all the name straight), but that had been hours ago. 

On top of that, the kriffing Senate - the good-for-nothing notoriously slow Senate - had suddenly decided that Mandalore’s repatriation of their own damn artifacts was their business too. Seriously , Jango scoffed to himself.  They’re like toddlers who want to stick their nose into everything the adults do - especially when it doesn’t concern them. So now he, the Jetiise, and a handful of Senators were meeting this afternoon to discuss something that could easily have been done without the Senate’s intervention . 

It was a karking travesty.

At least Kenobi had accepted to lead the Jetii half of the team. Jango couldn’t wait to introduce that boy to Jaster - if they weren’t lost to academic rabbit holes within ten minutes of meeting each other, Jango would eat his armour.

Sighing, he commed Kote again. It went to voicemail. Again. “Kote, ner ad, come back as soon as you hear this. Some of our meetings got rearranged and I need you at the Rotunda by noon. You’ve got another thirty minutes before I send Rex after you. Jan’buir out.”

With another heavy sigh, Jango sat down heavily in his office chair. Ka’ra, but being Mand'alor was exhausting. As he rubbed at his temples, Jango heard the front door swish open. Jango didn’t even have to guess who it was. “Kote, where in the name of the Ka’ra have you been?!” Jango hollered.

Kote edged into the room, ducking his head sheepishly. “Sorry Buir. I went out for firstmeal with a friend and lost track of time.”

“Uh-huh,” said Jango as he eyed the rumpled state of his son’s hair and clothes. “Was this friend a redhead capable of moving things with his mind, perchance?”

Jango smirked as Kote’s face darkened all the way to the now-reddened tips of his ears. “BUIR!” he cried.

Jango only laughed. “Oh, you look just like I did when Jas’buir first caught Myles and I sneaking out together. Good times.”

“BUIR!” Kote cried again, this time with a different embarrassment. “I did not need to know that! If you’re going to be weird, I’m leaving!”

“Ah, don’t mind your old man, ner ad,” Jango said. “As long as you’re both being safe.”

Kote threw his hands up. “That’s it, I’m going back to my room!”

“It’s a valid concern!” Jango said between fits of laughter. Oh, this was too easy.

“Ret!”

Jango didn’t think anything more of Kote’s insistence on going to his room until later that day when he saw a Mandalorian blade on Kenobi’s belt.

A Mandalorian blade with Kote’s starburst on the hilt.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan let out a shaky breath as he smoothed out his robes. He and a Master Archivist were sitting in one of the Senate’s antechambers as they waited for the conference room beyond to be ready. As soon as the protocol droid came to fetch them, this would be real. Obi-Wan would present his plan for the repatriation of Mandalorian artifacts - and it was his plan, because someone put him , a Padawan , in charge of this monumental undertaking.

To say Obi-Wan was stressed was a massive understatement - he was terrified.

In only a few short minutes, he’d be in front of the Mand’alor, the High Council, the Mandalorian Council of Chiefs, whatever representatives the Senate decided to send and oh Force, he couldn’t do this-

“Force, Kenobi, you need to relax,” said the Master Archivists, a Rodian in his mid-forties named Dun Jun.

Obi-Wan laughed, his voice high-pitched and just a tad hysterical. “Force, I don’t even know what I’m doing,” he groaned into his hands. “I’m just a Padawan! Who thought this was a good idea?!”

“Hey now,” Master Jun said, pushing off the wall in concern. “You are the best Jedi for this task-” Obi-Wan snorted, sliding down the wall with his hands buried in his short hair. Master Jun sent him a firm wave of affirmation in the Force. “No, really. We don’t even have an archivist dedicated to Mandalore! Sure, a few of us read the Supercommando Codex when it was translated to Basic, but you’re the only Jedi who’s actually studied it! Beyond that, you’re the only Jedi alive who speaks any Mando’a past a few basic sentences and self-taught at that!”

“But-” 

Master Jun put up a hand. “Ah, no. If you’re going to mention your boy toy as why you’re “emotionally compromised”, you can stop that train of thought right now.”

“But I-”

“Stop the train! Throw it off the tracks!” Master Jun threw their hands out in an exaggerated gesture. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but chuckle. “If the Mand’alor requested you personally, that means he thinks you’re up to the task. You can do this, Obi-Wan. Have faith in yourself, and have faith in your team.”

Obi-Wan laughed uneasily. “Should I add faith in the Force for good measure?”

“Well, yes , but I thought that went without saying.”

Obi-Wan took another deep breath and let his thoughts stile like sand at the bottom of a river. “Thank you, Master Jun,” he said. 

Before the Rodian could answer, the doors to the conference room opened. “In we go, I suppose,” Master Jun said instead. “You’ll do wonderfully, Padawan Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan forced himself up and straightened out his robe. He held his head high and walked through the doors to the long table. Obi-Wan kept his breath even as he sat in his assigned chair and put his datapad in front of him. 

Master Jun appeared at his elbow with a glass of cold water and a smile. Obi-Wan took the glass gratefully and returned the smile, but anything he might have said was cut off by the arrival of Mand’alor Jango Fett and two of his sons. Obi-Wan stood fluidly and bowed to the Mand’alor. Behind him, he felt Master Jun do the same, although Obi-Wan sensed that the Mand’alor’s attention was focused entirely on him. The Mand’alor looked Obi-Wan up and down silently before doing a minuscule double-take and raising an eyebrow in shock. 

Obi-Wan knew what had garnered such a reaction - Kote had gifted him a knife. It was a gorgeous piece of craftwork, made from Kote’s two hands in a show of devotion and care. When Obi-Wan had accepted the knife, his heart fit to burst from his chest, Kote had explained the significance of gifting a weapon during a courtship. 

“It means that something I made is protecting you,” Kote had said between deep kisses. His warm lips had been swollen and his pupils blown in lust, but he’d still taken the time to tell Obi-Wan just how much he meant to the Prince. “S’not meant to be ceremonial,” he’d gasped as Obi-Wan trailed kissed down his jaw. “I made it so you’d use it. It’s pretty because you’re pretty and you deserve pretty things-”

“And you’re the prettiest of them all,” Obi-Wan had crooned, drunk on adoration for the man in his bed. “I suppose, if I didn’t use it, I’d be saying that your protection, your care ,” not love, not yet, but soon, oh so soon, “means nothing to me?” 

“Yes,” Kote had hissed, his hands hot as brands on Obi-Wan’s thighs.

“Then I promise to wear it and use it,” Obi-Wan had said with a soft smile before all words had faded away.

As promised, Kote’s knife hung from Obi-Wan’s belt opposite his lightsaber. The scabbard was made of fine leather, dyed a deep brown. The only decoration was an engraved three-line sunburst, Kote’s personal insignia (Allik, in Mando’a). The sunburst was painted a vibrant orange, the shade of the Coruscanti sky just before dawn, the colour that painted the walls of their hotel rooms when they had to leave, the colour of shereshoy, of taking chances, of their lust for life. Kote’s claim couldn’t have been clearer if he’d tattooed his aliik on Obi-Wan’s face.

Jango Fett, it seemed, hadn’t been informed of this development. “I see congratulations are in order,” he said, dry as the desert planet he lived on.

Obi-Wan ducked his head in recognition then locked eyes with Kote, who stood behind his father’s shoulder. “My thanks, Mand’alor,” he replied. “I eagerly await the moment I get to wield it.”

Kote’s smile widened. “Just don’t go around starting bar fights just to show off,” he joked. 

His blond brother - Rex, Obi-Wan thought - groaned. “It was one time,” he murmured, looking upwards as if praying to the heavens… or the ostentatiously ornate ceiling. One of the two.

Obi-Wan laughed. “I,” he began imperiously, “have never started a fight in my life .”

“ That is a bald-faced lie,” intoned Grandmaster Yan as he entered the room with a swish of his large cloak. 

Obi-Wan turned to face the new arrivals and painted a horribly betrayed look on his face. “ Grandmaster ,” he protested, aghast. “I have never -”

“Bruck Chun,” Grandmaster Yan interrupted. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and said, “If your arguments include either Bruck Chun or Quinlan Vos, you may as well start flying a white flag now.”

“Very well,” Grandmaster Yan continued. “As prince Kote said, what about the bar fights?”

“Self-defence,” Obi-Wan shot back with a smirk.

His Grandmaster crossed his arms playfully. “And all those ‘group spars’ as you call them?”

“Nothing you can prove, because there is nothing to prove.”

A snort from his tight reminded Obi-Wan that he and his Grandmaster were not, in fact, alone.

“My apologies, Mand’alor Fett,” Grandmaster Yan said smoothly. “My Grandpadawan and I got carried away.”

“N’entye, Master Dooku,” the Mand’alor said, extending his hand for Grandmaster Yan to grasp. “It was entertaining and enlightening to see how my ven’ad acts among his family.”

Obi-Wan felt his face heat with what he was sure was a prominent blush. “Bu ir!! ” Kote exclaimed. Through the Force, Obi-Wan sensed that his lover was as mortified as he was. “We only just declared intent to- We haven’t even-”

“You’ve been pining for months ,” Kote’s vod interjected cheerily. “I don’t think he’s that far off the mark.”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, drawing all the attention in the room to him. “Perhaps, but those decisions remain between Kote and I,” he said firmly. “I thank you, Mand’alor, for your easy acceptance - or at least tolerance - of myself as your son’s chosen partner but as Kote said, we’ve only just declared intent to court each other. Deciding whether or not to share our lives will be the product of time and many conversations between us. Private ones,” he stressed. 

“The Mand’alor just invited you into his aliit, and you turned him down?” Prince Rex said, baffled.

Obi-Wan shook his head quickly. “No, that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. I’m truly honoured,” he said with a bow in the Mand’alor’s direction, “but please , give us time to sort ourselves out, to see how we work together as a couple before you push us into labels we’re not ready for.”

Mand’alor Fett had an odd look on his face. Calculation, smugness, and just a hint of pride - why the hells was he looking at Obi-Wan like that? Was this a test of some sort?

“Well said, Padawan Kenobi,” the man announced after a short silence. “Very well said.”

Master Jun clapped their hands to dispel the tension. “Well! Kenobi’s here as mission lead, I’m here for the Archives, Master Dooku’s here for the Council and the gossip-”

“Pot, kettle,’ Grandmaster Yan fired back, making Obi-Wan bite back a snort.

“- And you’re here for your people. You said in earlier communications that we’d be virtually conferencing with your Clan Heads?” At the Mand’alor’s nod, Master Jun pressed forward. “So, I vote we get this started as soon as we can so that Certain Interested and Interloping Parties have a hard time stopping our momentum.”

“Seconded,” the Mand’alor said dryly. “I’ll get the call going.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kote’s heart pounded behind his ribs and he didn’t know what to do. Buir was calibrating the holo-emitter for their call (one meeting with the virtual attendees superimposed over the in-person ones was more than enough, thanks) and Obi-Wan was talking to the two other Jetiise, which left Kote with Rex.

Kote sighed and turned his head to murmur in his vod’ika’s ear, “I need you to tone it down a bit.”

“What for?” Rex laughed quietly. “You’ve been together for three months already! If he can’t deal with me-”

“No, we haven’t!” Kote hissed out of the side of his mouth. “That’s my entire point .” He glanced around to make sure no one was listening to them and said, “we’ve been having sex for three months, but we only brought feelings into it today . Today, vod’ika! I gave him that knife less than six hours ago, so could you please, ” he stressed, “not try to scare him off?”

Rex looked at Kote, his eyes wide with surprise and sympathy. “You really like him,” he murmured. Kote nodded, not trusting himself to speak. “Alright,” Rex said after a long moment. “I’ll back off. N’epar, ori’vod.” Kote knocked their shoulders together in forgiveness, the motion easy and practiced over the years since his batch had adopted the scrawny CT.

They stood there in companionable silence for a moment, when the doors burst open to let in two senators - one dressed ostentatiously and with the general demeanour of a self-important puffer pig, the other more elegant and with a pinched expression halfway between resigned and gleeful.

“Your Majesty, a thousand apologies for our tardiness,” said the first Senator with a deep, flourishing bow. In Kote’s humble opinion, they looked like a drunk peacock.

“Who are you?” Kote’s Buir demanded, straightening his back and crossing his arms.

“Senator Sheev Palpatine of Naboo,” the peacock said with an oil-slick smile “My colleague and I are here at your service to ensure that there are no diplomatic mistakes during this difficult process.”

The other Senator pinched their brow in a stars-give-me-strength gesture. With a wide sidestep, they pressed their right hand flat against the left side of their chest and bowed shallowly - just right from a foreign dignitary to a king. “Mand’alor, I am Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, he/him.” Already, Kote liked this Senator more than his colleague, whose face was rapidly gaining colour at his metaphorical spotlight being stolen. “As Senator Palpatine said, we are here as a third party to facilitate open negotiation between Mandalore and the Jedi Order. Our purpose is to ensure the best outcome for both parties and to act as mediators if need be.”

“I like this one better.” Kote startled at the voice of his other Buir. Based on the reactions of the others in the room, the call to Manda’yaim had gone through while they were occupied. The table was half-filled with glowing blue holograms of Myl’buir, Goran Gotal, and a few other Alore. The only notable person missing was-

“Where’s Ba’buir?” Kote asked, his raised eyebrow pulling at his scar.

“He doesn’t know about this,” said Goran Gotal, the Nautolan’s scarred ahwey flicking with mirth. “If all goes well, it’s his lifeday present. If not, he won’t know to mope about it for the next decade and a half.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jan’buir said as he rolled his eyes. “Well, time’s a-wasting and there’s work to be done.”

With that, they all sat and had a round of introductions. Obi-Wan opened the meeting with a detailed inventory listing every single Mandalorian artifact in the Jetii Archives. It was a very long list. 

“To be extremely clear,” Obi-Wan stressed as some of the Alore started murmuring in discontent at the sheer volume of things in the Jetiise’s possession, “our purpose is not to determine how much will be given back. We have records and images, our knowledge will not suffer any loss - we are here to determine how these items will make their way to Mandalore. All at once? In waves? With or without an escort? Will the team of Jedi bring the cargo all the way to Mandalore or will there be a changing of hands off-planet? The ball is fully in your court, Alore. Tell us how to give your heritage back to you, and it will be so.”

Kote had to physically hold himself back from climbing over the table to kiss Obi-Wan. People like that just didn’t exist-

“Now hold on just a moment,” said Senator Palpatine, interrupting Kote’s besotted mental whirlwind. “These are Republic resources - you can’t just offer them back for nothing !” He exclaimed, aghast. “Come now, Master Jedi, come to your senses! You would be delivering a trove of weaponry into these warriors ,” Palpatine spat the word like a curse, making the Jetiise and Mando’ade alike bristle in indignation, “with nothing in exchange! Why, were you to go into the beast’s den with these crates of precious assets, there would be nothing stopping your hosts from  turning on you, holding you hostage, or - heavens forbid - outright killing you!” He shook his head in a show of dismay. “No, no, no, this won’t do. This is precisely why I was skeptical about his mission being led by a Padawan - my dear boy, you must learn to establish boundaries early on in negotiations-”

“How’s this as a boundary?” Obi-Wan retorted with a scathing glare. “Sit down, Senator, and please cease your hysterics. You are here as a courtesy, nothing more.” 

Palpatine opened and closed his mouth a few times, like those big baleen-feeder fish on Kamino. Thankfully for their combined sanity, Organa raised his hand. “On behalf of my esteemed colleague, I sincerely apologize for the slight on your judgement, Padawan Kenobi, and the grievous insult to your characters, Mandalorians. It was unbecoming of someone of our station.”

“I repeat,” Myl’buir said cheerily, “I like this one - If we ask nicely, do you think Jas’buir would adopt him?”

The Mando’ade burst into startled laughter as Jan’buir fixed his riduur with a fond glare. “No.” Kote watched as Jan’buir turned to Obi-Wan with an approving look and said, “I think everything all at once would be best - that way no one can accuse your Order of withholding our beskar.”

“We don’t have one ship large enough to contain all of the artifacts, so I recommend we use two of the cargo vessels usually used the MediCorps,” suggested Master Dooku.

Jan’buir nodded. “Good idea. It’s not like the ships we came in have the necessary storage capacity - how soon can the artifacts be voyage-ready?”

“Fairly soon,” said the Rodian - Master Jun, Kote remembered - with a wave of their hands. “The beskar is already in environmentally sealed cases, it’s just a matter of putting those cases into cargo crates and making sure we’re not missing anything.”

“Could that be done in under five days?” Jan’buir pressed.

Master Jun paused for a moment, looking between Obi-Wan and Master Dooku. Telepathy, Kote remembered. Master Jun was probably communicating with their colleagues in the Temple - and damn if that wasn’t a useful skill to have. “I will owe the Head of the Archives a great deal of favours, but yes,” they said eventually.

Master Dooku’s mouth twitched upwards for a moment in an echo of a smile. “Then your team could come back to Manda’yaim with us,” Jan’buir said.

Obi-Wan nodded. “Past the practical applications, the optics of that would be really good,” he said. “The new Mand’alor, returning from his first test as a leader with two shiploads of repatriated artifacts - a true cin vhetin for the relationship between Manod’ade and the Jedi Order.”

“Huh,” Goran Gotal said, impressed. “Mand’alor, permission to adopt the Jet’ika?” they asked brazenly.

“As Grandmaster to said Jet’ika, denied,” replied Master Dooku primly, though his eyes held an undercurrent of humour. 

“And Grandmasters are pretty much Ba’buire, so good luck with that,” Kote added with a laugh.

“This is all well and good,” Palpatine interjected, “but what assurances does the Republic have that this exchange will be made in good faith? The are Republic resources and-”

“In brutal technicality, Senator, these artifacts are the Jedi Order’s spoils of war,” Obi-Wan said bluntly. “Therefore, they are ours to do with as we see fit. I remind you that your presence is a courtesy and that these proceedings are between Mandalore and the Jedi Order - not the Republic Senate.”

“Be that as it may, what assurances do we have that the Mandalorians won’t simply stab us in the back? What proof of goodwill do we have?” Kote was this close to stabbing that Senator (in all fairness, the knife probably wouldn’t make it through all the ridiculous layers the man wore). Out of the corner of his eye, the saw Rex’s face twitch minutely. “In the civilized areas of the Republic,” and ooh , did that make his trigger finger twitch , “such treaties are sealed with the marriage of two individuals close to the decision-making process.” Uh oh. Kote had a bad feeling about where this was going. “In this case, you Majesty, the most likely candidates would be Padawan Kenobi and your clone, Cody-”

Kote didn’t wait for Palpatine to finish as he slammed his hands on the table and stood up, his chair skidding out behind him. “My name is Kote ,” he snarled, “and I don’t care how civilized you claim your Repulic is, Mando’ade don’t do arranged or forced marriages! That man,” he said, pointing at Obi-Wan, “has worked his entire life to be a Jedi Knight, his first oath should always be to his Order, and you want to rob him of that? You want to make me rob him of that?! Nu draar!” he snarled. “I will not be a pawn in your games - I will not let you turn us into pawns for you to play around with! Past that, if Obi-Wan Kenobi and I were to get married, it would be our decision, on our terms! Even then, I refuse to bind him to me until he’s had the chance to swear his Knighthood vows, because he is a Jedi! Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Jedi first, last, and always, and I refuse to usurp that allegiance!” Taking a deep breath, Kote locked eyes with Obi-Wan, who gave him a small smile even though his eyes were wide with shock. His voice steadier and calmer, Kote said, “No, Senator, you don’t get to decide when the wedding bells ring for us. You have no say in this.”

In the wake of his outburst, silence reigned in the conference room. Rex, Myl’buir and Jan’buir were staring at him in shock, pride and approval while the other Mando’ade simply looked smug. Palpatine’s face was scrunched up like he’d bitten into a meiloorun only to find the insides rotten, while Senator Organa looked like he was having the time of his life. Master Jun’s face was unreadable, but his eyes radiated humour and smugness, a look mirrored in Master Dooku, but Obi-Wan- Obi-Wan looked at Kote like he was seeing the Mando’ad in a new light. Kote’s chest heaved as he kept eye contact with his cyare, trying to convey everything he couldn’t voice, all the love he didn’t dare yet admit.

“Well,” Master Dooku said slowly, “I must admit, that has to be the most romantic refusal of marriage I’ve ever heard. Bravo, your Highness.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Internally, Jango cackled like a karking anooba. The look on Palpatine’s face was priceless , but the look the Jet’ika was sharing with Kote was so much better . The boy may have denied being his ven’ad - official or unofficial - but Jango could only think of one emotion that turned his Eyahy’ade that passionate. If Kote’s feelings weren’t reciprocated, Jango would eat his beskar.

“Well, marriages aside-” he tried to say, but was interrupted by Foreign Minister Almec, a New Mando who got on Jango’s nerves very easily.

“Excuse me, but I was under the impression that Jedi couldn’t marry in the first place?”

Dooku’s right eyebrow twitched upwards. “Really?” he drawled. “If that’s the case, I must excuse myself to go comm my husband and wife to tell them that our marriage of over thirty years is invalid.” Tellingly, Dooku didn’t move, just leaned back on his chair with his fingers steepled in front of him.

Jango gave a few seconds to let the snickers of laughter die down. “ Marriages aside ,” Jango repeated, “I see no issue with this plan. Once they’re ready, give us the ident codes for the cargo ships as well as the time and place for liftoff. Master Jun, I’ll pass Goran Gotal’s comm info over to you, comm them if you have any questions or concerns about the beskar. Does anyone else have any pertinent information or questions?” At the shaken heads, Jango nodded decisively. “Good. Meeting adjourned.”

Right before the comm to Manda’yaim fizzled out, Jango and Myles tapped their hearts in unison, a sign of love they’d come up with as teenagers when Jango had been sent all over the sector as Jas’buir’s side while Myles remained in Keldabe. As their eyes met, Myles sent him a look promising a long conversation about their son’s choice in partner. Immediately after, Palpatine left the conference room in a great huff, while his more agreeable colleague, Bail Organa, stayed behind. “Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry . As soon as I heard that the Senate was going to involve itself, I put my name forward, but he was already implicated-”

“Bail, it’s alright,” Kenobi replied with a smile. “It was more entertaining than anything, really.”

“Still-” the Senator said with a contrite look.

“Nope! I don’t want to hear it!” Kenobi declared with a jovial smile.

“Very well,” Organa said with a roll of his eyes. “I heard you were mission lead, I couldn’t pass that up - congratulations!”

Kenobi ducked his head, a blush working its way up his face. “Well, now, that’s hardly-”

“It’s karking incredible, is what it is!” Organa exclaimed, gripping Kenobi by the shoulder. “If that Council of yours doesn’t Knight you soon, they’re all fools. No offence, Master Dooku,” he added with a bow.

“None was taken, young Organa,” Dooku said jovially. “In fact, I quite agree with that assessment. You did wonderfully, Obi-Wan.”

Kenobi’s blush rose higher. “I had exceptional teachers,” he said after a moment.

Dooku’s expression softened. “It is my pleasure to be counted among that number, Grandpadawan.” Ba’buir, indeed, Jango thought to himself.

“Ah, but onto lighter matters!” Organa exclaimed with a friendly pat on Kenobi’s back. He turned to Kote with a wide grin and stuck out his hand. “Bail Organa, long-suffering friend of one Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said cheerily.

Jango watched with amusement as Kote gingerly took the offered hand in a core-style handshake. “Kote Fett, recent boyfriend,” his son replied proudly.

Organa’s smile grew. “Ah, so you’re the Hot Facial Scar Guy Obi-Wan’s been pining over!”

“ BAIL!! ”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan’s face felt like it was on fire during the ride back to the Temple. Every time his blush began to go down, Kote would do something that would make his cheeks flame up again. He'd squeeze their conjoined hands, or he would flash him that wide smile of his, or the sun would shine in his hair just so, or a million other things that made Obi-Wan regret his pale complexion.

It was entirely unfair.

“Can you tell me more about the Archives, cyare?” Kote’s voice rumbled in his ear. Obi-Wan stifled a curse as his ears heated once more at the endearment.

“Well,” he said, his fingers tracing the lines on his knife hilt. “They’re the most complete collection of information in the Republic. As such, it’s broken down into three sections - but they aren't really defined as sections, because there are rules as to who can go where based on where everything is and-” He shook his head. “I’m not sure how to describe it really, other than to say: the first four floors are fully open to the public and are almost more of a library. That is to say, it’s where all the fiction, non-fiction literature, children’s books, general sciences and histories are kept. The fifth to fifteenth floors are… more specialized knowledge? A member of the public must either request entrance in advance or ask an Archivist for the specific datachip to study on the public levels.”

Kote nodded. “To make sure no one tries to take artifacts and run?”

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. “That and being able to keep track of who has which items at what time - many of the older treatises are one-of-a-kinds, and people rarely want to study the copies. Floors sixteen through twenty are Jedi-only. Those hold the holocrons, Sith artifacts, the last remaining armour sets from the Army of Light, that sort of thing. Members of the public may only access these artifacts after an interview with an archivist and may not step foot on those levels, only study them in one of the rooms on floors five to fifteen.”

“Wow,” Kote said. “So which floor is Mandalore’s?”

“Your written works are on floor six, I believe, but the vast majority of the artifacts - armour, weapons, so on and so forth - are on floor seventeen.”

“So, we get an exclusive tour?” Kote teased, nudging at Obi-Wan’s ribs.

Obi-Wan side-eyed his boyfriend. “Special circumstance,” he retorted dryly. He opened his mouth to explain what sort of regulations the Mando’ade would need to be under but didn’t get the chance to utter a word of it as Kote dove in for a short yet bruising kiss. After what felt like a small eternity of wide-eyed panting - on Obi-Wan’s part, Kote didn’t even have a hair out of place - Obi-Wan croaked, “what was that for?”

“Oh, I just remembered that the gorgeous and incredibly smart man sitting next to me is my boyfriend,” Kote replied with a lopsided smile. He shrugged, the shoulder plates of his beskar’gam making the movement jerky. “And, well, I remembered how many times I wished I could kiss you like that but didn’t. I figured I could make up for a bit of lost time.”

A warm feeling grew in Obi-Wan’s chest, sending tingles down his fingertips. He tilted his head to kiss Kote again, this time slower. He let his eyes flutter shut as their lips swept against each other’s and brought his right hand up to tangle in Kote’s curls. “You sweet man,” he whispered in the air between them when they separated to breathe.

Kote leaned in for another kiss, but they felt the speeder come to a stop. Obi-Wan chuckled as Kote groaned and let his head fall onto Obi-Wan’s chest. “We’d better go before we give Rex more ammunition,” he sighed into the tabards.

Obi-Wan hummed. “Probably a good idea,” he said as he opened the speeder door.

As usual, there was a small crowd of reporters on the Temple steps. Mostly for gossip about the comings and goings of certain Jedi to fill up space in the gossip pages, but every once in a while, the reporters got lucky with a big story.

As it turned out, Mandalorians - all members of the ruling family and one of them the King of said Mandalorians - fit the bill of a “big story”.

Obi-Wan, Master Dooku, and Master Jun fanned out in front of the Fetts. The billowed their cloaks up with the Force and projected lookatmenotthemI’mtheinterstingone, trying to limit the amount of coverage Mand’alor Fett, Rex, and Kote would get. Not nearly soon enough, they entered the Temple proper and made their way to the Archives. They didn’t actually enter the Archives from the “ground” floor - could a floor truly be called ground several kilometres above the surface of a planet? - but instead took a lift up and out of the visitor area of the Temple. When the six of them - Masters Jun and Dooku, Obi-Wan, Mand’alor Fett, Kote, and Rex - stepped out of the elevator, the only other people to be seen were Jedi.

At his left, Kote stiffened slightly, as if bracing for impact. To be entirely fair, Obi-Wan thought, I’ll be in the same boat as him in a couple of weeks. The last time Jedi-Mandalorian relations were openly friendly was during the time of Tarre Vizsla, and that was just under a thousand years ago. Obi-Wan didn’t even think to begrudge the Mando’ade their caution.

“Shall we?” Grandmaster Yan asked with a flourish of his hand.

Mand’alor Fett moved in front of his two sons and nodded. “Indeed.”

As they strode forwards, Jedi moved out of the way while bowing to the Mand’alor. They weren’t so uncouth as to actually whisper where the man could hear, but the Force was swirling with excitement, anticipation, curiosity, and not a small amount of mischief - typical Jedi behaviour when there was new gossip around.

“Something tells me,” Kote murmured dryly, “that news of our arrival will be known by every Jedi in the galaxy soon enough.”

“My dear, you assume they didn’t know the moment Master Jun asked Master Nu how long it would take to pack up your artifacts,” Obi-Wan replied in a similar tone. “Besides, it’s market day. Gossip will be flying more than usual today.”

They entered the Archives, and anything Kote could have said was cut off in wide-eyed wonder at the tall shelves lined with glowing blue datachips. Obi-Wan watched fondly as Kote’s eyes slowly roved over the high arches, the bronzium busts, the incense burners, and the details of the stonework. Kote’s jaw went slack as he craned his neck up and up and up.

Obi-Wan hated to draw Kote out of his wide-eyed wonder, but he also knew that one never kept the Archivists waiting, much less the Master Archivist, much less in her own domain. He clasped Kote’s hand in his and tugged gently. “They’re waiting,” he whispered.

Kote nodded, still drinking the sight in. “Ba’buir Jaster would love this,” he whispered.

A few meters in front of where he and Kote had fallen behind, Mand’alor Fett unknowingly echoed his son: “My Buir would sell two and a half of his limbs to see this.”

“It would be an honour to welcome him within these walls,” Master Nu intoned warmly. “His love of history is well known, even to us.”

“Didn’t he try to sneak in a few times, Buir?” asked Rex. “It was before he had you, right?”

Masters Jun and Nu shared a conspiratorial glance. “It was more than a few times,” the Rodian replied as if letting him in on a joke. “On one notable occasion, he attempted to impersonate a Wandering Jedi.”

“Oh, is that who that was?” Grandmaster Yan said, astonished. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because the former Mand’alor holds his liquor well and managed to successfully argue against implementations of Ps’ykander’s Ideals in modern society while inebriated. We decided to… let it slide, as it were.”

All three Mandalorians choked on their saliva. “Jas’buir did what?” Mand’alor Fett croaked dryly.

“Of course, he also propositioned half of us-”

“Bleh!” Rex exclaimed. Kote was clearly of a similar opinion as his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“Oh, now that would have been interesting-”

Obi-Wan’s head whipped around to fix Grandmaster Yan with a betrayed stare. “Grandmaster!” he hissed, careful not to raise his voice in the Archives.

Grandmaster Yan only laughed. “Mand’alor Fett, may I introduce you to Master Archivist Jocasta Nu, Head of the Archives, who just so happens to be my incredible wife.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Mand’alor Fett, his voice still slightly strangled, “despite that last tidbit about my Buir, kindly never bring it up again.”

“Of course,” Master Nu replied, her smile razor-sharp but her eyes warm with laughter. She clapped her hands, the sound breaking through the easygoing atmosphere and snapping all of them back into professionalism. “Shall we begin?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kote was in the middle of the biggest triumph of Mandalore’s historical reclamation, but all he could think about was how wonderful his boyfriend was. In the Senate conference room, Obi-Wan had been shy, almost meek, when he presented the beginnings of his plan. But here? In his home - in fact, based on the stories Obi-Wan had told him, the Jedi Archives might as well have been his home when cramming for certain assignments - Obi-Wan was perfectly at ease. And with every smile and every laugh at every joke, Obi-Wan’s dimples shone with full force.

Ka’ra above, he wasn’t that strong!

Jan’buir was noting minute changes to the classification of some sets of beskar’gam - some Clans had since changed House allegiance, or got absorbed into other Clans, or who branched into their own House, or done literally anything else the Mando’ade of yore could do to make a modern-day historian’s life difficult - with Rex providing commentary. Rex’s memories of Ba’buir Jaster’s stories were much fresher than their Buir’s, what with him being twenty-odd years younger. Kote tried to pay attention, he really did! He got as far as admiring one of the full sets of beskar’gam - Clan Saxon, from the now-dissolved House Saxon, approximately five centuries Ru Dral’han - before he began daydreaming about how gorgeous Obi-Wan would look in beskar and then he was back at square one!

After a few tedious hours, Jan’buir and the Jetiise finally came to an agreement on the classification of the artifacts, leaving them to their pleasantries. While their elders were distracted, Obi-Wan drifted over to Kote. “It’s Market Day in the Room of a Thousand Fountains if you’re still up for that private tour,” he murmured.

Kote inhaled and held his breath, trying to slow his racing heart. “Sure,” he whispered back, breathless.

With a bashful smile, Obi-Wan took Kote’s hand and led him behind the stacks of datapads to a different exit than the one they’d entered from. As soon as they left the Archives proper, Obi-Wan tugged him along, picking up speed as they ran to the lifts. Obi-Wan pushed the button to close the doors, then whirled around to crowd Kote against the wall. Kote could barely breathe as his hands found their usual places on Obi-Wan's hips, tugging the Jedi closer to him as their mouths collided in a kiss.

“Do you have any idea,” Kote demanded breathlessly, “how hard it was to watch you back there and not imagine you in beskar’gam? How hard it was to get the image of you in the armour of my ancestors out of my mind?”

Obi-Wan laughed, completely unsympathetic to Kote’s plight. “I think I’ll know soon enough.”

Kote made a questioning noise into Obi-Wan’s mouth. “You can’t exactly wear your beskar into the Room of Thousand Fountains, so we’re making a pit stop at my quarters.”

The lift car jolted from vertical motion to horizontal. Kote stumbled at the change, accidentally pulling Obi-Wan closer to him. “So, you’ll get to have your Mandalorian boyfriend in the heart of the Jedi Temple… wearing your clothes.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said cheekily as he stepped away from Kote. Kote followed as if pulled by the strongest of magnets, but Obi-Wan still ducked away from his attempts to get back to kissing. “Darling, we’re almost there. And the residential section of the Temple has far more Jedi milling about than the upper levels of the Archives.”

Obi-Wan’s words were like a bucket of cold water dumped over Kote's head. “Right,” he said, pulling his hands from Obi-Wan’s hips and stepping back. He took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. “Right,” he repeated for good measure.

Just before the doors opened, Obi-Wan grabbed hold of Kote’s hand again. Kote squeezed into the contact, feeling far more off footed than before. The Archives had been somewhat neutral territory, and his Buir and Vod’ika had been there with him. Now, he was the sole Mando’ad, and he was in the Jetiise’s home. Not just their Temple, but the places where they lived, laughed, loved, and rested. For the second time in his life, Kote felt like an invader - but this was the first time that he didn’t have the surety that he did belong.

As they stepped out of the lift, Kote heard murmurs from huddles of Jedi around the corridor, but no one made to stop them. Kote didn’t risk glancing over, he just followed Obi-Wan’s lead to an unassuming door labelled: “Jinn and Stahl du Crion Kenobi”

Obi-Wan must have sensed his raised eyebrow because he didn’t even turn away from unlocking the door to say, “It’s a running tradition for the names of ex-Padawans to stay engraved on the plaque. It’s sort of a way to remind them that, grown or not, they will always find a home with their former Master.”

“That’s kind of sweet,” Kote said as the door hissed shut behind them.

Obi-Wan snorted and turned the lights on with a flick of his hand. “You should see Master Yoda’s quarters- he’s had over six centuries’ worth of Padawans, his door is covered.”

Obi-Wan turned to face him without letting go of their clasped hands. His laughter cut off at the look on Kote’s face, though his giddy smile didn’t drop. “I believe it,” Kote whispered, suddenly struck by the sight of Obi-Wan, his cyare, completely at ease in his own home. A home he hadn’t hesitated to bring Kote into. Slowly, Kote ran his hand up to the small of Obi-Wan’s back and pulled. Obi-Wan came easily, settling into the circle of Kote’s arms as if he belonged there.

Obi-Wan curled his arms over Kote’s shoulders and said, “Any change of clothes I could give you would be in my room,” lifting his tone at the end to turn the statement into a half-question.

Kote leaned his head down, lightly rubbing his nose against Obi-Wan’s. “So, take me to your bedroom, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said before crossing the last few inches between their lips. Obi-Wan groaned into Kote’s mouth and began pulling him further into the apartment, towards one of the side doors.

And really, if they arrived in the Room of a Thousand Fountains an hour later than planned, Kote could very easily say that Obi-Wan had spent the entire time showing him the most gorgeous views of the Temple.

But eventually, they did make their way to the enormous garden - and really, the Jetiise called this massive garden, complete with small forests and lakes, a room? - with Kote dressed in a spare set of Obi-Wan’s tunics. The thin fabric was surprisingly warm and soft, so different from the steady weight of his beskar’gam over his kute. At least I got to keep my boots, he thought to himself with a laugh.

Obi-Wan tugged him along a cobblestone path through leafy trees. Kote smiled indulgently at his cyare, whose excitement he could practically taste. Obi-Wan’s steps were light-footed and quick, and stress seemed to melt off of his frame. Through the dappled sunlight - and Kote needed to find out how the Jetiise had managed to have actual sunlight this far into the Temple - Kote could see the bright grin that stretched from ear to ear on Obi-Wan’s face.

“If you keep pulling like that, you’re going to tear my arm off,” he teased.

“I wouldn’t need to tear your arm off if you would just keep up!” Obi-Wan joked back, although he did slow down a little. As they approached a bend in the path, Kote heard the sounds of many conversations, laughter, and even faint music - it sounded like a less-rowdy version of the Ori’bo, the Big Market, in Keldabe.

It was the distinct lack of crashing and blaster fire, Kote decided. When the Jedi market came into view, Kote’s steps ground to a halt. It wasn’t a huge amalgamation of shops like the Ori’bo was - rows upon rows upon rows of stalls that fought over selling space (sometimes literally) like, well, the Mando’ade that they were - this was a loose ring of temporary stalls erected around a large, clear pond. On the far side of the pond, a band of Jetii musicians had brought out their instruments and were playing for a dozen or so dancers, with nearly as many standing to the side clapping along. The stalls advertised everything from finely woven tapestries, to pottery, to plant seedlings, to food - and that was only from the nearest stalls!

“What’s first?” he asked in a slight daze.

Obi-Wan ducked his head bashfully. “I… don’t really need anything, per se? I just wanted to show you what Market Days are and-” he blushed and murmured, “and I really wanted to spend time with you, like a date,” so low that Kote barely heard it.

“Cyare, would you like for this to be a date?” he asked, using his index finger to tilt Obi-Wan’s chin back up. Those gorgeous blue eyes stared into his and Kote rephrased, “Would you do me the honour of taking me on a date, ner cyare?”

“Please?” Obi-Wan asked somewhat shyly.

Kote dropped his hand from Obi-Wan’s face and lifted his other hand - the one still holding Obi-Wan’s - and pressed a kiss to the Jedi’s knuckles. “Then lead the way.”

As it turns out, Jetiise didn’t need much in the way of material wealth - their market didn’t run on money so much as it did on bartering. Kote watched in awe as Obi-Wan haggled favours with an older Jedi over a blanket (Kote had mentioned that Boba would like the pattern, and Obi-Wan had instantly begun bartering). The final price was: One small and two large favours, three rumours of varying accuracy, and one batch of Obi-Wan’s Lineage Cookies (whatever that was). In no time at all, Kote was carrying the carefully wrapped blanket under his arm as Obi-Wan went from stall to stall with the insistence that, if he was going to provide a gift for one of Kote’s Vode, he was going to provide a gift for all of Kote’s Vode.

It took Kote twenty minutes to negotiate down from all three million of them, but Obi-Wan eventually conceded to limiting himself at the Vode who’d been directly adopted as Jan’buir’s children, instead of just “children under his Clan name and therefore benefiting of his protection”. That still left: Wolffe, Fox, Bly, Ponds, Rex, Thorn, Thire, Monnk, Neyo, Bacara, Doom, Grey, Gree, Stone, Jet, Keeli, Boba, and Omega (and Kote himself). Obi-Wan was determined to find something for them all. He was less determined to carry everything around, so Kote ended up holding an increasing number of presents under the amused eyes of the watching Jedi. How much of their amusement was directed at the sheer pile of parcels he was holding and how much of it was at what Kote knew had to be a besotted stare as Obi-Wan charmed his way into another low price, Kote didn’t really want to know. His boyfriend was fantastic, and that’s all he needed to say on that.

They’d gotten around halfway around the lake when Obi-Wan declared the impromptu shopping spree concluded. “There’s an area just over there, where we can put our packages down and come pick them back up later. It’s by the honour system, but everyone knows there’s hell to pay if something goes missing.” Our? Kote laughed internally, though it was all in good nature. His cyare hadn’t even met his Vode, beyond Rex, and was already trying to do something nice for them.

“Well, hello,” came a voice from behind them. Kote saw Obi-Wan’s face fall and braced... for ridicule, or unacceptance, or something else unpleasant.

“Quinlan,” his cyare sighed instead, and wasn’t that the name of Obi-Wan's best friend/bane of his existence? (Kote honestly wasn’t sure at this point)

“Obi-Wan!” the voice said delightedly. “And you must be Hot Facial Scar Guy!” The speaker was a Kiffar, maybe just a few years older than Kote. “Obi-Wan, baby brother, why don’t you introduce us?”

Obi-Wan sighed again. “Kote, this collection of misshapen lumps and no common sense is my unfortunately dear friend Quinlan Vos. Quin, you unrepentant asshole, this is Kote Fett, my boyfriend.” And wasn’t that quite the introduction?

“Obes, I’m wounded,” Quinlan exclaimed with a faux pout.

“Then perish,” Obi-Wan shot back mercilessly. There must have been some Force-byplay Kote wasn’t privy to, because the two Jetiise broke out into grins and did one of those overly complicated “secret handshakes” like some of the Littles had come up with four years ago.

With a grunt. Kote put down the collected gifts for his Vode and stood from the short, soft grass. He watched fondly as Obi-Wan and Quinlan descended into a playful slap fight. It was nice to see his cyare relax like this, among his people.

His musing was interrupted by a small weight colliding into his leg. Kote looked down in surprise to see a small Twi’lek grinning up at him while hugging his leg. “HI!” the blue youngling exclaimed. “I’m Aayla, she/her! Who are you? Are you a Jedi? Why do you make Obi so happy?”

Kote bent down so he’d be at the child’s eye level. “Hello Aayla, my Name is Kote, he/him, I am not a Jedi, and I like to think I make Obi-Wan happy because he makes me happy,” he replied with a soft smile.

Her little face scrunched up. “If you’re not a Jedi, why are you here?”

“I was invited.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because Obi-Wan wanted me to come.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because my Dad, brother and I were in the Temple.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because my people are working on an alliance with yours.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because we’re Mandalorians.”

Aayla gasped loudly, drawing the attention of a dozen other Jet’ike. “But Mandalorians don’t like Jedi!” she exclaimed with growing distress. Kote saw Obi-Wan and Quinlan look up from their impromptu wrestling match and waved at them that he had it under control.

“Well, my ancestors didn’t,” he said to the crowd of small faces. “But we don’t have to follow in their footsteps just because that’s what used to be done. We can choose to do to something different. Something better.”

One of the Jet’ike giggled. “And you wanna marry Obi,” they whispered. “I Saw it.”

Kote suddenly found himself being stared at by fourteen judgemental sets of eyes, all assessing if he was worthy of their… big brother? Uncle? Whatever Obi-Wan was to them. He gestured to the ad’ike to lean in. “Can you keep a secret,” he whispered as he looked them each in the eyes (or species equivalent). He fought down laughter at the sight of the children vigorously nodding, like an assortment of bobbleheads. “Well, it’s very important you don’t tell anybody what I’m about to say, got it?” More nods. “I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, love Obi-Wan, but I haven’t told him yet.” he confessed. “And yeah, I’d like to spend the rest of my life with him, but we haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Oh! It’s like in Beauty and the Beast, when the Beast loves Belle and Belle loves the Beast, but they don’t say nothin’ yet!” exclaimed one of the ad’ike.

“He’s not a beast, Nahdar!”

“Yeah, but Obi isn’t a beast either!”

Before the children could devolve into more arguing, Kote cut in, “If it helps your story, I am a prince?”

Aayla clapped, jumping up and down. “Like Prince Charming!”

One of the other children wasn’t so convinced. “If you’re a Prince, where’s your crown?”

Kote shrugged. “I left it at home.” That much was true - Kote had a circlet for formal occasions, but he had barely worn it for their entire stay on Coruscant thus far.

“If you’re a Prince, you need to have a crown!”

“We can make you one!” The group of Jet’ike ran off as quickly as they had come, tearing off around the pond.

“What was that all about,” Obi-Wan asked as he threw his arm over Kote’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen a creche clan that excited since,” Quinlan dropped his voice to a whisper, “the last prank war.”

Kote wound his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, so they stood side-by-side and gently kissed him on the cheek. “I told them I was a Prince, and they were very distressed at my lack of crown.”

“Well, we can’t have that, my darling,” said Obi-Wan.

“Okay, that’s it. When did this,” Quinlan gestured between the two of them, “become an official thing?”

“I finally mustered up the guts to ask this morning,” Kote said as he tilted his head up slightly to gaze into Obi-Wan’s eyes adoringly.

Quinlan snorted. “Aaaaaand, there the two of you go, descending into sappiness. Now, as Obi-Wan’s best friend, I am obligated to remind you that if you hurt him in any way, shape, or form, that there is no place in the galaxy that could hide you, no person in the galaxy that could keep you safe, because I will find you, I will kill you, and I will dispose of your body in such a way that it will be as though you’ve simply stopped existing. Do I make myself clear?” Over the course of his small speech, Quinlan’s demeanor changed from easygoing and happy to a wall of sheer ice.

A chill crept down Kote’s spine as he looked at Quinlan and felt the certainty that this man could and would follow through on his threat. Jetiise being dangerous enemies was not news to Mando’ade, but this wasn’t a Jetii talking to a Mando’ad. This was a person who was capable of untold horrors, one held back only by his moral beliefs and code of honour, telling Kote exactly how powerless he’d be if Quinlan decided to forgo that code.

Kote refused to be cowed by Quinlan’s words. He looked the Jedi straight in the eyes and said, “When I offered Obi-Wan my courtship, I gave him a knife made of my own two hands. If I ever give him reason to, he has my permission – although he does not need it – to carve my heart out with it.”

“Kote…” Obi-Wan said softly. Kote cursed himself silently. This must have been to fast, too forward – too close to the emotions of his heart that he did not dare name yet. “Kote,” Obi-Wan repeated, tugging at his chin so that they faced each other again. “I… I could never used the knife you made for me – the knife you made for us - to hurt you- “

“Then I just have to make sure you never have reason to,” Kote replied softly, pressing a soft kiss to Obi-Wan’s mouth.

Quinlan snorted again. “And there you go, back to the sappiness.”

Obi-Wan shot his friend an icy look. “don’t think you’re off the hook for threatening my boyfriend, Quinlan.”

Just then, the Jet’ike came running back and surrounded Kote. They pulled on his borrowed tunic until they could reach his head and showed him a crown made of soft-looking orange flowers. “D’you like it, mister Prince?” Aayla asked him.

“I love it,” he replied, trying not to get too choked up at the small gesture.

“Great! Texxa made it because she’s the best at flower crowns, but we all got the flowers!” the small Twi’lek said.

A small Besalisk waved with both right arms. “Well thank you, Texxa,” Kote said.

“Obi, Obi, you gotta come down too!” another one of the children cried. “You’re gonna get married, so that means you’re an almost-Prince! You need your crown too!”

Kote didn’t even try to restrain his easy laughter at the gobsmacked look on Obi-Wan’s face when the Jet’ike brought out another flower crown, this one made of blue flowers – privately, Kote thought it really brought out his eyes – and plopped it on Obi-Wan’s head.

“Thank you, young ones,” Obi-Wan said, standing back up.  “Kote, may I leave you with Quinlan for just a moment?”

Kote didn’t fully trust obi-Wan’s smirk – it usually precluded some kind of shenanigans – but tentatively said, “Sure?”

“Wonderful!” Obi-Wan beamed. “Younglings, would you come with me, please?”

Kote watched in puzzled amusement as Obi-Wan led the children away. “Looks like you have the chrechlings’ approval,” Quinlan said.

“Perhaps, but he does not yet have mine.” Kote whirled around at that ominous statement to find a tall Jedi staring at him, their blue eyes glowering over a short beard. “So, this is who my Padawan has been so enamoured with these past few months.”

Kote squared his shoulders. “Master Qui-Gon Jinn, I presume?” he held out his hand. “Obi-Wan speaks highly of you.”

“I wish I could say the same, but Obi-Wan hasn’t spoken about you much.” Master Jinn shook his hand the core-world way but gripped his hand far stronger than what Kote thought was normal.

Kote nodded. “I wouldn’t have expected him to. We both agreed on privacy early on, but decided we were at the stage of introducing one another to our families.” He slimed widely despite Jinn’s steely glare. “It means so much to me that Obi-Wan was willing to invite me into his home. It’s… I’m afraid I don’t really have the words in basic. Out of the two of us, Obi-Wan is the poet, not me, but I can almost feel how much you care for each other as a family.”

Master Jinn hummed. “Obi-Wan must care for you a great deal.”

Kote’s heart leapt in his throat, and he couldn’t help but look over to where he could see obi-Wan still surrounded by the Jet’ike. “I sure hope so, sir.”

Instead of answering, both Quinlan and master Jinn got an odd look on their faces and slowly walked away from him.

“Sir?” he asked as their grins widened.

Quinlan shook his head. “YOUNGLINGS: ATTACK!!!” Obi-Wan yelled from behind him. Kote only had enough time to whirl around in surprise before the first solid weight crashed into him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first, Jango had been somewhat frustrated when Kote disappeared. Then, he realized that obi-Wan had also disappeared, and well. He didn’t need a genius to figure out what was going on. The fact that he and Myles had done the same thing many, many times had absolutely nothing to do with his acceptance of the situation.

So, when Master Dooku said that they had covered all of the most pertinent details, Jango had taken Rex and abandoned his eldest to the Jetiise’s mercy. Kote was a grown man (even if almost half of his life had been accelerated) and knew how to stay safe.

So, hours later, when Rex hollered at him to turn on the news, Jango had no reason to think his son had anything to do with it.

“- no word yet from Mand’alor Jango Fett regarding the murder of his son today- “Jango’s heart fell into his boots. “We have word, however, that the Jedi responsible for the attack on Kote Fett this afternoon were rewarded-“ Those lying shabuire, Jango was going to kill each and every one of them – Kenobi would pay for luring Kote to his death – oh Kote, oh his poor sweet Kot’ika, how was Jango meant to tell his ade that Kote was gone? “We have footage of, though we will warn you, it is not for the faint of heart.”

Jango would watch, Jango was going to bear witness, even if it ripped hi heart out of his chest. Distantly, almost as if separated from his own body, Jango felt Rex press into his side. He wordlessly wrapped an arm around his son and squeezed tight, vowing not to let this one out of his sight-  

The video began, showing some sort of garden. Kote was shaking hands with a Jetii Jango recognised as Kenobi’s Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. They were speaking too low for the mic to pick up. Kote had a crown of flowers resting on his head – they crowned my boy before they killed him – and then a voice Jango recognized as Kenobi’s yelled: “YOUNGLINGS: ATTACK!!”

What.

A dozen or so Jet’ike streamed into frame, talking Kote at the knees. “We got ‘im! We got ‘im!” one of them yelled. Kote reached up and dragged them down, tickling their sides mercilessly. “No! we don’t got ‘im!” they shrieked in laughter, before eventually managing to wriggle away.

More and more Jet’ike came streaming in piling onto Kote, who was now flailing about dramatically. “Oh, woe is me!” his son yelled. “Betrayed by my own lover! Nooooo!”

The children giggled loudly, and the camera began to shake – Jango had a sneaking suspicion that Kenobi was the one holding said camera. “No, please, I can’t march ahead! These aren’t my good boots!” Kote wailed. “Oh, no! I see the light! Ancestors, take my soooooooooooouuuuuuuuul!” He reached a single hand up through the throng of baby Jetiise, before letting git flop to the ground dramatically and laying prone, his eyes shut and his tongue stuck out for effect.

The children cheered over their victory until Jinn clapped his hands once and said, “Well done, little Knights! You have taken down a mighty foe and saved the Temple! How would you like to be rewarded?”

“COOKIES!!!” was the unanimous answer.

“Then you shall have cookies!” Jinn exclaimed with a wide smile.

Still lying “dead” on the ground, Kote raised a hand. “Can the Fallen Mighty Foe have cookies too, please?”

With that, the video cut out, sending the screen back to the bland newscaster. Rex turned it off without a word, turning to Jango. “I- I was so scared- “

“I know, ner ad,” Jango said, once again crushing Rex to his chest in a hug. “I know.”

His comm pinged with a message from Kote.

Kot’ika: Obi just told me a that the news is going to talk about me in the Temple. Just a head’s up, don’t want you to worry.

Jango laughed, hysteria bubbling in his chest. He showed the comm to a confused Rex, who snorted. “Cookies can’t have taken that long,” he muttered and ew, Jango did not need to think about that.

He tossed Rex off of him with a huff and sent a message back to Kote.

Buir: it’s a bit late for that, ad. Expect lots of hugs when you get back, the news story scared us.

Kote took a few minutes to respond, but eventually sent back:

Kot’ika: On my way.

Jango snorted. He could almost hear the long sigh – Kote was probably planning to spend the night at the Temple. When his son walked through the door, a half-hour later, Jango didn’t even try to stop the Rex-shaped missile that slammed into his brother with an “oof”.

“You’re the one who gets to explain to your Ba’vodu Arla how you got taken down by half-pint Jetiise,” he said wryly.

Kote shot him a glare from above Rex, who was doing his best impression of an octopus. Jango could only smirk in response and tamp down the residual fear that another one of his children had been sent marching ahead of him.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan woke alone in his bed. He rolled over into the phantom sensation of Kote’s arms around him and sighed when all he felt were cool sheets. 

Obi-wan understood why Mand’alor Fett had hurried his son back under his wings - by the Force , the man must have been out of his mind with fear when he heard the little gag-piece by the Coruscanti Times - but his boyfriend’s absence still made his chest tighten.

He lay there, letting the innate peace of the Temple wash over him. The undercurrent of mischief ran stronger than usual - he could only imagine how much gossip their Market Day visit had started - but he could feel no common thread of ill-will towards Kote. It was a relief to know that his family was approaching his boyfriend (a Mandalorian , of all beings) with such open minds and hearts. 

Obi-Wan let out a deep sigh. The weight of his covers pulled his chest back down - the sensation was comforting in its repetition. 

Kote . That man could be the death of Obi-Wan and he wouldn’t even complain. Their lives had crossed purely by chance: Kote had just completed a hunt and Obi-Wan had gotten off-planet leave for a week after a round of exams. Had either of them chosen a different bar that night, had either of them chosen a different partner that night, Obi-Wan might never have known Kote and this alliance definitely would not have taken place. 

And now… Now Kote had carved himself a place inside Obi-Wan’s rib cage, nestled tight between his lungs and his heart. He made Obi-Wan’s breath quicken and his heart race whenever they were together. Every smile sent his way made warm tingles shoot up and down Obi-Wan’s spine, every word that spilled from his soft lips was the sweetest music Obi-Wan had ever heard, and every touch was like lightning against Obi-Wan’s skin. Kote’s very presence in the Force was a warm sunrise, steadfast and true and bright and hopeful and utterly gorgeous and-

Oh.

Oh.  

Oh, Force . Obi-Wan was screwed .

The next two days passed in a blur of introductions. Obi-Wan’s crechemates demanded to meet the “Hot Facial Scar Guy that’s been making Obi-Wan sigh out of every window he comes across” (Siri’s words, not Obi-Wan’s), which Kote bore with laughing dignity. Kote’s siblings - vode - demanded to meet him during their next holocall. The sea of faces was somewhat overwhelming to Obi-Wan, but they teased him and Kote freely. Kote said it was a good sign.

“If they had been cordial, that would have been a bad sign,” Kote said with a kiss on Obi-Wan’s hair. “If they’re willing to joke around with you, it means that they understand you’re here to stay and they think you can take it.”

“Well then, I look forwards to seeing them in person,” Obi-Wan said with a grin.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I highly doubt that anyone thought to warn Mando’ade about the infamous Jedi Prank Wars.”

Kote doubled over laughing and Obi-Wan could only stare at the sight of him - the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, and the small divots in Kote’s cheeks that only became visible when he smiled, and the stray lock of black hair that Kote couldn’t brush out of his eyes because he was clutching his sides.

Obi-Wan tucked it back on Kote’s head absent-mindedly. When he looked down from his hand, Kote’s laughter had died off and he was instead smiling softly at Obi-Wan. “You’re incredible - you know that, right?” Kote said.

Obi-Wan ducked his head to leave a soft, lingering kiss on Kote’s mouth. “I am a reflection of those around me,” he replied. “You make me want to be better, Kote.”

This time, it was Kote who surged forward to lean in and kiss Obi-Wan as he cradled the redhead’s jaw in one warm hand.

Obi-wan let Kote tilt his head to a better angle as he threw his arms over his boyfriend’s broad shoulders. His eyes fluttered closed and he sank into the kiss. Kote’s arm slid around his waist as his lips glided smoothly over Obi-Wan’s.

For long, languid minutes, Obi-Wan floated in the warm feelings they both exuded into the Force. When Kote finally pulled back, Obi-Wan surged forward to nip one more kiss from Kote’s lower lip. 

“Ob’ika,” Kote groaned, “don’t start something you’re not willing to finish.”

Obi-Wan heaved himself up to swing his leg over Kote’s thighs, rolling them over and sitting astride his boyfriend. “Who said anything about being unwilling?” he asked with a smirk.

Kote pulled Obi-Wan down insistently and Obi-Wan went, laughing.

They were cuddling together in the afterglow, bare under Obi-Wan’s sheets, when both their comms chirped with a notification. They wordlessly agreed to ignore it, content to doze together in the warm contact, soft kisses, and the gentle strokes of hands on skin. 

It was only when Kote’s comm began wailing incessantly - a high-pitched, drawn-out sound recorded in the pits of hell, in Obi-Wan’s opinion - that the Mandalorian groaned and pulled himself out of Obi-Wan’s embrace.

“Rex,” he said as an explanation when Obi-Wan whined at the loss of warmth.

Obi-Wan propped himself up on an elbow as he rubbed his eyes and watched Kote pad over to their discarded clothes and pick up his comm. “Me’ven?” he grunted at his little brother.

“We’ve been invited to a Senate gala tomorrow night,” came Rex’s voice, made tinny by the comm.

“And this couldn’t wait until I’d returned to the suite?” Kote grumbled, stretching out his back. He twisted this way and that for a few seconds to dispel any lingering stiffness, and Obi-Wan watched the ripple of his muscles shamelessly. His eyes caressed across Kote’s shoulders, down his spine, down to his still-bare hips, and to Kote’s defined glutes and quads. He thought of what those thighs felt like when they squeezed around his torso like the most pleasant of vices and shivered.

“Well, Buir didn’t know if you were coming back,” Rex sniped back, bringing Obi-Wan out of his reverie.

Kote turned his head and ran an appreciative glance over Obi-Wan’s form, still partially covered by the white sheets. He grinned wryly. “Okay, he may have been right about that,” he admitted.

Rex said nothing for half a minute, then in a resigned tone: “You’re with him now, aren’t you?” 

Obi-Wan’s face split into a grin. “Hello there, Rex,” he sing-songed.

“ Gross ,” Rex whispered, probably not intending for the mic to pick it up. “Well,” he said at regular volume, “Buir says we need to go in full dress.”

Kote’s head fell back. “We can’t go in beskar’gam?” he whined.

“No,” Rex sighed. He and his brother were of the same opinion. “Because the Senators would take it as a sign of aggression, gestures of peace, blah, blah, blah.”

Kote rolled his eyes. “Fine. When do you need me back so we can put the dancing monkey suits on?”

“Come back for midmeal tomorrow, Vod.”

Kote glanced back at Obi-Wan, a question in his eyes. Using the Force, Obi-Wan summoned his own comm to look at the invitation. Arrival was scheduled for the eighteenth hour, so six hours to get ready was a bit much. On the other hand, Obi-Wan wasn’t about to be the kind of person who got between his partner and their family. He nodded with a smile.

“I’ll be back at the suite for midmeal, then - is Buir doing skraan’ikase?”

Rex laughed. “If that’s what it takes to drag you away from your cyare…” he teased.

Obi-Wan felt his face flush. “You don’t need to drag him, Rex,” he shot back. “I’m not holding him hostage.”

The younger Fett laughed over the comm. “Maybe not, but we’ve always needed to bribe Kote into doing things he didn’t want to.”

“Alright, alright.” Kote rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rex.”

“So I was right! You aren’t coming back tonight!”

“Not anymore, I’m not. Ret’ , Rex,” Kote said before flicking his comm off. Kote sighed, put his comm back down, and stepped back into Obi-Wan’s bed. He fell onto Obi-Wan, pushing them both back down onto the mattress.

Obi-Wan chuckled at his boyfriend as Kote squished his face into Obi-Wan’s chest. He carded his hands through Kote’s curls, still slightly damp with sweat. “I hate the dress suit,” Kote groaned into Obi-Wan’s pecs.

Obi-Wan hummed. “I’m sure you look quite dashing in it, though.”

“All beauty comes at a cost,” Kote sighed. He turned his head to look Obi-Wan in the eyes. “I suppose I can get dressed up - but I’ll be looking good for you, not for any pomped-up Senator.”

“Oh, you look amazing to me without even trying, my Darling.”

“Flatterer.” Kote pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s jaw.

Obi-Wan leaned down and caught Kote’s lips for a slower, longer, kiss. “I speak naught but the truth,” he whispered. “Your very soul is gorgeous to me. Any physical beauty you add to that is secondary.” He very pointedly drew an appreciative gaze up and down Kote’s body. “And you have no lack in that department either,” he leaned in to whisper in Kote’s ear, “ner meshla cyare.”

Kote sprang up as if burned. His eyes drilled into Obi-Wan’s with a burning intensity. “Say that again,” he ordered breathlessly.

“Ner meshla cyare.”

Kote hauled Obi-Wan up by the back of his head into a bruising, all-consuming kiss. “Again,” he demanded.

“Ner meshla cyare.”

Another kiss. “Again.”

This time, Obi-Wan pressed a kiss to Kote’s forehead and said, “Ner,” another kiss to the broad tip of his nose, “meshla,” a kiss on each cheek, “cyare,” and finished with a long kiss to Kote’s lips.

Obi-Wan fell backwards onto the bed, dragging Kote down with him. He kicked his legs around to get out from under the sheets.

“I will never, ever, ever , get tired of hearing you speak in my tongue,” Kote said, breathless. “Nu draar.”

Giddy, Obi-Wan checked on his Force bonds. His shields were still intact on all of them. Perfect . With Force-quickened reflexes, he lurched forward, flipping their positions so that he was straddling a starstruck Kote’s hips. “Then teach me more things to say.”

Kote’s hands shot up to frame his hips, the Mandalorian’s chest rising and falling with quickening breath. “If you’re thinking enough to learn a language, I’m not doing my job right.”

Obi-Wan leaned down with a smirk. “Then get to it, cyare.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kote got back to their suite fifteen minutes before the twelfth hour. The second the door closed behind him, Rex became a whirlwind of teasing remarks. His favourite talking points seemed to be: Obi-Wan’s strength, the strength of Obi-Wan’s bed, and the overall structural integrity of the Jedi Temple.

“We didn’t break his bed, let alone the entire Temple ,” Kote said with a roll of his eyes.

“Rex, leave your brother alone,” Jan’buir called over in Mando’a.

“ Thank you, Buir,” Kote called back in the same language.

Jan’buir stepped into the entrance hall with the shit-eating grin every last Vod had inherited and Kote sighed internally. “The rest of your Vode will want to get some teasing in when we get home! You wouldn’t want him to have answers ready for every little question, now would you, Rex’ika?”

“I hate you, Buir.”

Rex cackled, the traitor . 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Vod’ika. Just you wait - when you find a cyare, I’ll remember this.” Kote pointed one finger at Rex in a promise. “And Buir, I can and will ask Ba’buir for stories about you from before your verd’goten.” 

“All you’re going to hear are stories of standard ad’ik’osik,” Jan’buir started, but Kote cut him off.

“But what about the story Ba’buir promised me about the time a certain someone got grounded for impersonating their Buir to a client while on contract while said Buir was sick? Or when a certain someone tried to sneak around the Mereel compound after a bar crawl, waaaaay past curfew and somehow wandered into the wrong barracks? Or that one time a certain someone was proposed to by seven separate members of the same royal family? Or-” 

“Gev, gev, I get the picture!” Jan’buir said, laughing. “Come on, ner’ade, I got your softshells out of your packs and ironed - believe me, there were more wrinkles in that fabric than there are shards of Concord Dawn!” 

Laughing, the three Fetts strode down the hall of their overly lavish suite. Jan’buir peeled off to his bedroom while Rex and Kote wrestled over who got to use the shower first. Kote let Rex win and sat laughing as the blonde slammed the refresher door shut with a victorious crow. That was alright - you had to give the little ones little victories so that they didn’t try for the big ones, as Sil’buir used to say.

Kote unzipped the bag that held his uniform and separated the pieces - undershirt, trousers, vest, jacket, medals, cords, and boots. Once they were all laid nice and flat on his bed, Kote sent a photo to Obi-Wan, captioned “socially acceptable instruments of torture”.

Obi-Wan sent back a short clip of his Master being berated by Obi-Wan’s Ba’buir. “-honestly, Qui-Gon, you can’t wear your regular rags to a gala! I swear, I raised you better than this-” The video was shaking and Obi-Wan’s laughter could be heard the entire time.

Kote smothered an inelegant snort and typed out a quick reply. He and Obi-Wan kept texting each other until there was an uncharacteristic pause on his end.

Kote: everything ok?

Ob’ika: sorry, OB needs 2 get rdy now, c u @ gala -QV

Kote sighed. I’ll see him soon, he told himself. Soon .

Five hours later, Kote stepped out of the speeder after his Buir and forced himself to ignore the flashes of all the cameras along the red carpet.

“Your Majesty, over here!”

“King Fett, what do you think about the trade wars in the mid-rim?!”

“Your Highnesses!! Coruscant Times, are you looking for romance in the Core?!”

“Over here, over here! Some poses for the Core Cosmopolitan!”

“Fett-”

“Your Majesty-”

“-over here!!”

“-some questions-”

“Prince Fett-”

“-truth about your children-”

“-Kamino?!”

“Pose!” 

“This way!”

For the love of the Manda, did these vultures never get tired of hearing themselves talk?! Kote drowned out the noise as he followed Jan’buir up the steps, Rex two steps to his left. He knew they made quite the picture in their pristine suits, with their rank insignias over their shoulders, ribbons and medals on their left breast, braided cords looped over their right arms - one for each victorious campaign. Rex and Kote both had five each - Kamino, Keldabe, Concordia, Ordo, and Concord Dawn - but Jan’buir’s cords were nearly too many to count.

On top of all that, all three Fetts wore shining beskar circlets on their brows. Jan’buir, as Mand’alor, has the thickest and most ornate of the bands. The polished beskar came to an angled point between his brows in a mimicry of the T-visors on his buy’ce and six spikes rose from his crown, each one engraved with the broken chain links Jan’buir had chosen as his aliik upon his return to Manda’yaim. Kote’s circlet was a much simpler band with his golden sunburst rising over his forehead. Rex had a thin circlet with one hundred and twenty-seven tally marks engraved in the beskar - one for every Vod Rex saved when the Kaminiise flooded the training rooms, the act which earned him his jaig eyes.

They passed under the enormous doors to the senate dome and all three Fetts breathed a sigh of relief as the voices of the paparazzi died out. “I hate Core-world niceties,” Jan’buir grumbled. “They rarely mean what they say or say what they mean.”

“If you have a problem with someone, punch ‘em and be done with it,” Rex intoned.

Kote rolled his eyes as they approached the ballroom. “K’atini, ner aliit.”

“K’atini,” they echoed.

“Announcing His Royal Majesty, Mand’alor Jango Fett of Mandalore, His Royal Highness Crown Prince Kote Fett of Mandalore, and His Royal Highness Prince Rex Fett of Mandalore!” the butler- waiter- person-who-guarded-the-door-but-for-niceties-instead-of-threats called. Immediately, all of the heads in the ballroom swivelled to look at the trio as Jan’buir led them down the ornate stairs. Even the band seemed to hesitate for a moment as Kote ran an assessing stare over them. 

Jan’buir led them to one of the small round tables floating at chest height. He took a tall, thin glass from a passing droid .and sipped at it. Kote swallowed a laugh at the face Janèbuir made once the flavour hit him. “Too sweet,” he spat out.

Rex snorted into his drink, a multicoloured concoction of some sort. “D’you think the ‘imposing Mando’ act will get them to leave us alone for a bit?”

Spying Palpatine gliding towards them, Kote sighed. The smarmy politician wasn’t moving directly towards them, but flitting about from group to group while closing in. Kote rather thought that captured the man's political style as well: if it took less than an hour to get to the point, you were too direct. “Nope,” he said to his father and brother. “Chakaar inbound,” he whispered under his breath. 

Rex and Jan’buir both groaned quietly. “Ah, Man’dalor Fett!” Palpatine said in faux-surprise. Kote was fairly sure he mispronounced the title on purpose. Bitch. “I must admit, I was surprised to see you here. I understand that galas such as these are not a common luxury within the outer rim.”

“Manda’yaim is in the mid rim,” Jan’buir replied curtly. He downed the rest of his drink, seemingly resigned to his fate as - and Kote shuddered at the thought that this mantle might one day fall to him - a politician .

Kote left their table to refill his glass, glad to get away from Palpatine’s self-important voice. Manda, does he love to hear himself talk, he thought. Just as he took a sip from his new glass - watered-down Alderaanian whiskey - a posse of giggling young adults formed up around him. 

“So, I hear you’re the Crown Prince?” one of them asked. Kote couldn’t tell which one. “Why you and not one of your brothers? What makes you… special?” they dissolved into another fit of giggles, sending Kote’s new entourage off as well.

“Mandalorian succession doesn’t work that way,” he said as blandly as he could. 

They giggled again, hiding half their faces behind fans as they gazed up at him and - 

Oh no.

Debutantes .

“Crown Prince or not, it’s still rare for a Mandalorian to join our ranks,” another one of them said. This one was human, in their late teens or early twenties, and draped in a fine silk gown. Small glowing pearls floated around their head, bobbing and swaying gently with any movement they made. They were conventionally pretty, Kote supposed, but not enough to have tempted him before he met Obi-Wan. Now that the man had accepted his courtship? These socialites were in for a rude awakening if they thought they could so easily slide into Clan Fett.

“Join your ranks? How so?” he asked, taking another sip.

More infernal giggles. “You were presented, were you not?” a twi’lek in an airy blouse and skirt asked. They ducked their head coquettishly. “Welcome to Coruscanti society, your Highness.”

“I return to my homeworld in two days,” he said blandly, to a round of nervous and disappointed murmurs.

“Does that mean you… won’t be here for the social season?” another of the socialites asked.

“I thought the whole point of your visit was to secure a match,” said yet another.

Kote chuckled. “Arranged marriages don’t exist on Mandalore.” He took a bigger gulp of his drink. “If two people who don’t choose each other are forced to cohabitate or start a family, blood ends up on the walls.”

More nervous twittering. “But, your Highness, surely your father sees the benefits such a match would bring to Mandalore? Why, the social standing alone would be worth any consideration!”

“If I get married for something as fleeting as social standing , my family is more than welcome to disown me,” Kote deadpanned. “Marriage vows are some of the most sacred words in our language - I would never utter them to a single soul unless I was sure I truly wanted to bind our lives together for eternity. Companionship, chemistry, the perfect balance of challenge and comfort, and unwavering faith in one another: that is what would have me take a knee and swear my vows. Nothing less.” He hoped he sounded dismissive enough of them that they’d leave him alone.

No such luck. “That is so romantic! ” a Rodian cried - actually cried , their eyes were shiny with tears. “Would you tell us more about this ideal partner?”

The socialites quickly voiced their agreements, nodding enthusiastically. Just then, the doors at the top of the stairs swung open again to let in the next group of guests. Salvation! KOte crowed in his mind.

“Announcing Junior Padawan Siri Tachi of the Jedi Order, Senior Padawan Luminara Unduli  of the Jedi Order, Senior Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Jedi Order, Knight Kit Fisto of the Jedi Order, Kight Gi M’lii of the Jedi Order, Knight Tor-in Oak of the Jedi Order, Master Qui-Gon Jinn of the Jedi Order, Master Mace Windu of the Jedi Order, Master Yan Dooku of the Jedi Order, and Master Jocasta Nu of the Jedi Order!”

Oh, thank the karking Manda .

The Jedi floated down the stairway in that ethereal elegance they were known for, their faces smooth masks of marble. Kote’s eyes were immediately drawn to Obi-Wan, who - who had changed his hair . Gone was the inch-long head/nerf-tail combo that was traditional for Padawans. Obi-Wan must have used a hair-growth cream because his hair now came down to his jaw in a soft curtain. The top half was pinned back by two silver wing-shaped hairpins and his braid trailed down his shoulder, laden with far more beads and bands than usual. Instead of his usual rough-spun beige robes, perfect for field work, Obi-Wan was clad in finely-pressed silk robes made up of pale cream tunics and pale silver-blue tabards. His boots were oiled and polished until they shined in the low light as Obi-Wan’s feet came down the stairs. None of the Jedi wore their cloaks - although Dooku wore a cape clasped to his tabards - and so the new set of robes his much less of Obi-Wan’s form. The belt emphasized his trim waist and his crisp tabards accentuated the width of his shoulders. His arms pressed against his sleeves in a constant hint of strength. Attached to Obi-Wan’s belt, the knife and sheath Kote made for him rolled with every motion of Obi-Wan’s hips. The sheath was as polished as the rest of Obi-Wan’s appearance, the orange sunburst eye-catching against the dark leather.

Kote’s mouth dried as his eyes dragged their way up Obi-Wan’s form to his face. The blue of his eyes was all the more vivid thanks to the dark liner drawn around his eyes - Kote didn’t know whether to thank the artist or strangle them - and his lips were subtly tinted a few shades darker with the lip-stain Kote knew Obi-Wan loved to use when he went out.

All in all, he stole the very breath out of Kote’s chest. Given the slight sparkle in Obi-Wan’s eyes and the slight twitch of his lips, his cyare knew it too.

The Jetii delegation reached the ballroom floor and split up wordlessly. Most of them approached certain politicians and were greeted with warm smiles - Kote smiled as he noticed Dooku clasping forearms with Jan’buir while practically ignoring an incensed Palpatine. Obi-Wan made a beeline straight to him.

Kote stepped forward, out of the throng of debutantes. If any of them protested, he didn’t hear them. All he saw, all he heard, all he felt, all he knew was this apparition of beauty, strength, and cunning that approached him. Obi-Wan came to a stop before him and Kote absent-mindedly put his right hand forward to clasp forearms with Obi-Wan in the Mando way.

Instead, Obi-Wan gripped him gently by the fingers and bowed deeply as he brought Kote’s knuckles to his darkened lips. His eyes never left Kote’s, a line of sizzling contact between them. “Your Highness,” he murmured against the back of Kote’s hand. KOte felt Obi-Wan’s lips quirk up into a smirk. “It is a pleasure to see you again.” Oh, if only we were alone…

“Padawan Kenobi,” he said instead. It came out far more breathless than he intended and Obi-Wan’s smirk widened. As Obi-Wan stood from his bow, Kote switched the grip of their hands until his hand clasped Obi-Wan’s, palm to palm. He brought their combined hands up to lay a kiss on the back of Obi-Wan’s hand. “The pleasure is all mine, cyare.”

Obi-Wan’s smirk widened into a genuine smile. Around them, the music changed and couples made their way to the center of the ballroom. “Kote Fett, Ad be Mand’alor,” Obi-Wan said, bringing out Kote’s full title - and pronouncing it perfectly, too. “May I have the honour of this dance?”

“Hey, that isn’t fair, Jedi!” a shill voice whined. Kote groaned and turned around, not letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand. He’d  (gleefully) forgotten about the swarm of socialites.

“Yeah,” another disgruntled debutante said. “We got to him first, we should get his first dances.”

“When you asked me if I was on Coruscant to find a match, I said no. I spoke the truth. I do not need to search for one.” Kote turned back to face Obi-Wan but spoke loudly enough for his voice to carry. “I’ve already met my match.”

Kote ignored the stares and whispers that followed them onto the dance floor. Both he and Obi-Wan knew they were coming and had braced for them. “Ready?” he whispered as they took their spots. His right hand was still clasped in Obi-Wan’s, held up to shoulder height, while his left hand flattened across the small of Obi-Wan’s back.

“Are you?” his Jedi answered with a grin.

Then the music swelled and the dancers flowed into motion. Kote spun Obi-Wan around himself and let himself fall into the movements of the dance. A small part of his brain was thankful that he was old enough to have had these lessons in flash-training on Kamino - formal dancing and etiquette were some of the last modules the CC-class clones completed before their world had turned on its ear. The rest of his brain was split between using that knowledge and admiring Obi-Wan’s every feature. Kote, like all his Vode, was decanted with an eidetic memory. Here, he used it to catalogue every shift of Obi-Wan’s face, every minute moment of joy that Obi-Wan let through for the two of them.

Only for the two of them. The rest of the Galaxy could kriff off - as far as Kote was concerned, the only thing that mattered was the ever-closing space between himself and Obi-Wan and the sparks he felt along his skin wherever they pressed together. 

One song bled into another, which bled into another, which bled into yet another, the styles of dance changing with each song. Kote and Obi-Wan adapted seamlessly to each one.

After a half-dozen songs, they left the dancefloor by unspoken agreement. Cheers and applause followed them to the refreshments table where they both quickly downed glasses of water. Out of the corner of his eye, Kote saw a few of the debutantes from earlier. They saw Obi-Wan next to him and pouted, mumbling amongst themselves. Kote threw an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and raised his glass in a toast towards them.

“Why do you antagonize them, my dear?” Obi-Wan asked.

Kote hummed. “Because they are unused to being unwanted,” he said after some thought. “Because I told them that Mandalore had no arranged marriages and they still tried to maneuver into my life. Because they do not understand that their bright, shiny, expensive beauty pales in comparison to the radiance of your soul.”

Obi-Wan blushed. “Very well, then. I shall leave you to it.”

Shortly after they finished their third glasses of water, the band began a new song and Obi-Wan eagerly tugged him onto the dancefloor. Laughing, Kote set his glass down and followed, eagerly spinning into Obi-Wan’s arms. They stood in place for a moment, clasping hands and facing each other, for a few counts so they could grasp the rhythm of the reel. Then, they burst into motion, stepping backwards and forwards, spinning and clapping. The song and dance were from Lothal and were simple yet complicated. The dance and music were thirty-two bars long, but were repeated in an endless loop, each repetition faster than the last. The dancers had to move in synch for the lifts and spins to work, which got progressively harder as the song went on. Whenever couple messed up, they left the floor.

It was a sort of “last pair standing” dance, which was easily turned into an enticing competition for the CCs on Kamino. Kote could do this dance blindfolded for well over an hour - his record with Rex was one hour, fifteen minutes, and thirteen-point-oh-three seconds.

When the time came for the first lift, Kote saw the mischievous glint in Obi-Wan’s eye. “Shall we up the ante?” he asked. 

Kote grinned in reply. Instead of lifting his partner off the ground for a half-turn, Kote launched Obi-Wan up into a Force-assisted jump and spun around for one and a half turns before catching his boyfriend. “Ooh”s and “aah”s followed their stunt and Kote saw some other dancers give them dirty looks. He ignored them - if they didn’t want the show stolen, it was up to them to be more interesting. 

The dance restarted and now Obi-Wan was adding extra flair to his movements. Kote copied him, their heels striking the ground together. For the next spin, they added one more rotation than normal. For the lift, Kote threw Obi-Wan even higher and spun in place two and a half times. 

By the third time they entered the starting position, half the couples had left the dance floor. Kote barely registered them leaving. All his attention was on Obi-Wan, his hair a fiery halo with every spin and jump. They were both laughing as they egged each other on, going faster and faster, adding more and more extra bits to their dance. Kote lost count of how many times they’d gone through the movements, forwards, back, apart, together, stomp, spin, forward, clap, back, clap and stomp, spin, back to start. All that mattered was that Obi-Wan was in his arms, smiling and laughing and full of life in a way basic couldn’t describe. Mandokarla.

All of a sudden, instruments ceased their tunes one at a time. Not failing in his rhythm, Kote paid more attention to their surroundings. They were the last couple on the dance floor and - one of the woodwinds failed a now ridiculously-rapid trill and fell silent. Holy Hells, they were outlasting the musicians! He and Obi-Wan shared a wild grin and redoubled their efforts. When the last member of the band missed a note in the opening bars, Kote and Obi-Wan flew through the dance only to the sounds on their own feet, their heavy breaths, and the rhythmic clapping of their audience. When they reached the spin, Kote tossed Obi-Wan as high as he could, spun on himself enough times to make a baseline, human dizzy, and caught Obi-Wan above his head with one arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees. 

Kote spun on himself with the last of the momentum from Obi-Wan’s fall. The two of them laughed in exhilaration as Kote let Obi-Wan down. The crowd exploded into cheers and whistles, with occasional shouts for an encore. Kote couldn’t care less. He cradled Obi-Wan’s head in his hands and brought their foreheads together with a dull thunk . “I,” he panted, “am so glad you accepted my knife.”

Obi-Wan laughed, the sound ringing like a bell in Kote’s mind. “And I am eternally glad you offered me your knife.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jango watched in amusement as Kote and his Jetii stumbled off the dance floor, both of them sweaty and shaky on their legs but overjoyed. They collapsed into the nearest chairs - no wonder, they had danced for close to forty-five minutes before their short break and the reel had lasted a full hour - and Jango immediately plonked two full glasses of water on the table. “Drink,” he commanded. 

Obi-Wan accepted the water gratefully and guzzled it down like a man who’d just spent nineteen years in the desert. Kote rolled his eyes fondly and drank in smaller sips. “Vor’e, Jan’buir,” he said.

“N’entye, Kote. That was quite the show you boys put on,” he said, pride swelling in his chest. 

Obi-Wan’s laughter was still lightly tinged with adrenaline-fueled hysteria. “I’ve never lasted even a third of that time before,” he admitted. “I suppose it’s all in choosing the right partner.” 

Jango carefully didn’t look as they grasped for each other’s hands. “I hope you know that this’ll be all over the holonet in an hour, right?”

He roared with laughter at their twin groans.