#kango

“A hike back on Amarantine.” The hunter rose a brow. “Jango, I can land in the countryside and not be seen by anyone for hours. You take him on ‘business trips'” her nose crinkled in dislike over him taking a child to some of his bounty jobs “and I take him on a pleasant walk where he's ninety per cent less likely to come to harm than the places you take him.”

“I-”

“Besides,” she interrupted whatever he was going to say (by the scowl on his face, perhaps something of a lecture) “he asked if I could take him, I was heading there anyway, and he enjoyed himself. That's what matters to me.”

“Read more of those silly stories?” He brought his glass to his lips. She shot him a glare. Mirth drowned his expression. “They teach nothing of the galaxy.”

“Neither does showing him the galaxy only through the eyes of Kamino and Bounty Hunting.” Ko'saam stood with one hand on the table and pointed the other index at him. “You're teaching him to hunt for cash. I'm trying to teach him” then she gestured the same hand behind her to where Boba slept, “to be a good man. A good person.” Her arm fell, her gaze never leaving the former Manda’lore's. “I'm letting him do things he enjoys doing. He enjoys reading. I'm letting him read. I enjoy reading and you don't complain. Why should he be different?”

“He's my son. He needs to know the breadth of the Galaxy to survive it.”

“There's more to life than hunting, smuggling, assassination, and straight up bloody murder, Jango! There's more than revenge and shady dealings!”

“Like?”

“Hope! Those stories teach him hope!”

“They do not teach him how to survive.”

“You cannot survive without hope in anything. Being without it is just another way to kriffin’ die.”

She had already lost too much to it. The True Mandalorians - the old Mandalorians, in truth the ones who should have still been in rulership of Mandalore, and would have been better under Jaster's attempts to have actual ethics for once - were fractured and had lost so much hope they became scattered across the Galaxy. Death Watch made sure of that (another cleansing of the ways in favour of harmful extremism, even if their reasons for hatred were valid in the first place).

But all she knew them were the ones that joined her grandfather on his return to his wife on Amarantine. Cultures had already started to blend by the time her memory started.

Grandfather Tôr would have continued on as a protector of Concord Dawn if he could. He was nearly killed with the rest of the Mandalorians. He was one of the few lucky enough to have people rescue him. For hears he never stopped searching for the man in front of her. He repeatedly tried to break him out of cells and slavers. Helped him get his feet on the ground.

Because Jango meant hope.

But for what? How many followed him to this wretched place under the idea of hope, only to never be allowed to leave or contact their family? To be expected to desensitise themselves to the clones as cannon fodder, when he had a son and her? When they had kids and riduurs they hadn't seen in nine years? Some still looked at him as their Manda'lore, but others had grown resentful.

Why would they keep hope alive?

And her father? Fell so deep into hopelessness after her aunt disappeared, he turned to the enemy: Death Watch. Nearly tore a fifth of Northern Amarantine apart. And now he feared himself just as equally, and gave little trust to any former members of the tribe, or even any refugees. Not for many years. Not until they had shown they no longer had anything to do with them.

So who did the family hire to find her but the infamous Jango Fett? He knew her well. He knew her before the Ylandras returned to Amarantine upon the then Queen's death. He confided in her in his early days as Manda'lore - two young and new leaders, allied together in silence to the rest of the Galaxy, trying to survive.

Dead. Killed by Death Watch.

She had enough hopelessness in her life to not want Boba to feel it was the only way to get by in the world: no trust, no hope, no care, no love for anything, no enjoyment… just hunting.

Ko'saam had little chance to move away to stew before Jango was grasping her wrist, firm yet loose, and pulled her to stand between his legs. “Where're you going?”

“A walk outside.” He tilted his head in curiosity at ber inaudible words. She shook her head - never mind - and spoke louder now. “Get some rest.” She kissed the centre of his hairline, cupping his cheeks. “You look like you haven't slept in weeks.”

Before he could speak, she pressed a finger to his lips. “Rest. With Boba. He's not slept well since his last venture with you. He worries.”

“I know.” he slipped his free hand beneath her loose shirt, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles atop her flesh. “I know…”

“So cuddle with him. Let him know that this time, you aren't hurt. You're not hiding injuries. Let him be a kid that wants to snuggle with the only parent he has…”

His grasp tightened on her waist. He looked weary - his under eyes were puffier than the cadets she trained when they did not sleep well after a ridiculously had training session. Ko'saam could not help but hold his stubbled cheek, her thumb absently following the scarred skin.

“That's not true, Princess.”

“Isn't it?”

Jango's expression changed little from her words. His grasp remained. He remained still. Unmoving. Unflinching.

The epitome of a hunter; Ko'saam did not know if she was the hunted or the victor. She did not know what game he was playing, if any at all. At one stage, she thought she knew his subtleties.

Life had long changed since then.

When he did finally move, it wasn't to let her go as she had thought. Not entirely. His hold loosened, certainly, but he did not allow her to step away. Not at first. How could she when his head fell upon her breast, ear against her heart, and thumbs moving in slow circles where they rested?

“Ner kar'ta cyare…” Jango mumbled against the simple tunic she donned, his arms shifting to weave beneath the fabric and around her back. “I promise you this: I'd have no one else to be my son's mother.”

Ko'saam did not reply with the words that crawled up her throat, digging talons into the soft tissue. Then let me mother him. Let me feel like you mean your words. It wasn't that he never acted grateful - he did. But they had different ideas. Jango wanted his son to be a bounty hunter like him. She wanted Boba to have a life away from that, like most hunters did before, and make his own decisions.

Yet to do that would be to step on Jango's toes - something he didn't like. She had to walk on eggshells; sneak around so he never found out. It was tiring even to mention it again. Loving them both from the depths of her soul made it more complicated. She wanted to do right by both, but doing so would do wrong to the other.

And she loved them both to not want to do wrong by both; if she made Jango too upset with her, Boba would be hurt as a consequence. He had terrible dreams already, and his fear was always varying levels of severity. She hated the thought of him awaking to them arguing over him again. Waking up to the storms outside was bad enough.

He didn't need raised voices to join it.

“I know, Jango.” Ko'saam kissed the top of his head, weaving her arms around him surely. “I know.”

“He adores you.”

“And I love him, too.”

Jango's body tensed. His head buried further into her chest, a sigh of air leaving him - after the release, he swiftly relaxed. “I love you. You know that?”

“...Sometimes.” Her fingertips gently worked on the back of his scalp, encouraging a longer yawn and a groan of content.

His hands shifted to her thighs, guiding them over his thighs, before gripping her waist and lowering her onto his lap. Jango pulled her as close to him as clothes would allow, now placing his head along the nape of her neck, and encircled her with his arms. It wasn't the first time he had acted as such when he was weary, both filling her with warmth and stealing it from her.

There was no escape once he was like it - once, feeling the muscle of his stockier form was a great comfort. It told her he was safe. He was okay. He was looking after himself. It still did to some extent. Now, however, it was tainted with increasing uncertainty on what the once Manda'lore wanted to achieve from a clone army. An army to be used by a people he viewed as his main enemy.

Two of which were her family. She could not be open about her middle cousin or her uncle's former life. She couldn't speak of the oldest of her cousins, for he was a senator. She couldn't speak of the youngest cousin, for she was loosely force sensitive.

There was once a time she thought to be open - but the only person who could heal him was Jango. And Jango showed no sign of wanting to be heald of his past.

He wanted to drown himself it.

“Princess…” For what it was worth, Jango tried his utmost to hide and stifle his yawn. It was a poor attempt, for she felt its whisper through her tunic. “What's on your mind?”

“Nothing important, cyare.” He hummed in response. “You're tired.”

“No more than usual.”

“That was your third yawn in two minutes.” Still, he kept his nose against her neck. He breathed deeply, hiding another yawn, before planting a chaste peck to her skin. “Go to bed.”

A small grumble retorted - something not dissimilar to how Boba responded to her, telling him to sleep - followed by kisses of varying lengths and firmness peessing to her neck.

“Stayin’ close?”

Ko'saam sighed agaisnt hia scalp. “Need to go to my room.” She held up a square shaped comm, usually pinned to her waistband. “Our cadets will be coming back from their water training and who knows what fights will break out for the twilight few out there.”

“Tell them you're busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Sleeping. In my room.”

“Hm. Nice try, but not washing. The device will still ring and wake both you and Boba up.” Jango's hold tightened - his breath grazed over the space between her neck and shoulder. Goosebumps prickled against her skin. “If I finish up early, I'll join you.”

A thoughtful hum left his lips. His nose travelled slowly up her neck; he moved a hand to hold her chin. Warm fingers tilted her face down, his thumb moving back and forth with a lingering touch to the scar on her lip. Warmth gently enveloped her, spreading the length of her torso up to her cheeks and down to her toes.

Even when he was being typically Mandalorian and difficult to no end, he could easily make her heart race.

Deep brown eyes, cradled on puffy under eyes, and whites bloodshot from strain, dared not look away from her. “Ner ven'riddur…”

Reverence laced his words, his smile unequivocally gentle. The hand still on her back moved - roughened fingertips followed the curve of her cheek before his palm settled

This - the gentleness beneath roughened edges - was the Jango she fell for. A man of charm and flattery despite hardships. A father who loved his son more than anything else in the galaxy; one who waited until the very last moment to leave, for, the rest of the time, he was squeezing Boba and ensuring he knew how loved he was. Just in case it was the last.

Even the best met their ends eventually.

And if she wasn't careful - if she were to be any less aware - she would fall for the charm again and risk turning another blind eye under the guise of ‘he's stressed’.

“You okay, mesh'la?”

Ko'saam nodded. “When aren't I?” She suspected, by the way her smile felt, Jango noticed it wasn't genuine. Yet he didn't probe. As if he knew the truth.

“Love isn't as natural to me as it once was… but,” he gave her lips a chaste peck, “when I say I love you, it's no lie.”

She traced random patterns on the back of his neck. “I know.” In theory.

“Tell me how I've made you feel otherwise.”

Ko'saam stifled a laugh, preferring to press her forehead to his. “That is not how you're gonna worm your way out of getting sleep, love. Top grade for effort.”

He chuckled - the sound reverberated through her ribs and sternum. A strange but pleasant sensation. “Worth a shot.” It soon faded. “Tomorrow then?”

“We'll see.”

Ko'saam gave him another peck, but even as she began to stand, Jango stole another kiss, slow, lingering, deep. A promise that he'd listen to the concerns.

Every time she tried to leave, he'd take another until he couldn't suppress a fourth yawn, swiftly pulling away and hiding in the crook of her neck.

“Stay until the ALPHAs are back?”

With narrowed eyes and pursed lip, she feigned quarte-of-a-minute of thought. “Hm. I suppose it's doable.”

Despite the sigh and dramatic eye roll, he smiled into her neck and lifted her easily as he stood. “You're impossible.”

“Got it from you.”

“Lucky me.”