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.”