He didn’t like it being necessary, but Jango knew better then to let his soul mate wake up until Jango had gotten everything prepared. Large changes were always difficult to adjust to. And while Jango was sure his soul mate would adapt well enough, he was still wise enough to realize it would take time and there would need to be… adjustments, until Obi-Wan had properly adapted.
The man was soft in his sleep. Face slack and body open where he lay on Jango’s bed, Jango couldn’t quite stop himself from running a hand gently along the side of his soul mate’s face; the skin was soft and warm beneath Jango’s fingers. His thumb circled the darkening bruise from where a Geonosian had struck him.
The sound of feet shuffling drew Jango’s attention behind him, Boba was peaking into the room staring at Obi-Wan with a furrowed brow. “Is he still asleep?”
Jango nodded, gesturing for Boba to join him closer to the bed. Boba hesitated before moving closer, eyes on where the Jetii—no, not a Jetii, not anymore, Jango had stolen him from that—was still unconscious. He had enough drugs in his system that he should hopefully not wake up for several hours.
Boba’s hand reached out, pausing a few inches from the man’s skin. Jango nodded his permission and watched as his son examined Obi-Wan with strange curiosity. “He’s really yours?”
“Ours.” Jango corrected quickly. He didn’t want Boba to feel, even for a moment, that Jango wasn’t thinking about Boba and what was best for him. “He’s ours.”
Boba smiled a little, looking a mix of pleased and abashed. “But he’s your soul mate.”
“Yes.” Even just that little acknowledgment filled Jango with a sharp rush of desire. His soul mate. Finally.
Jango had thought about taking his soul mate then, back on Kamino. But he’d let him go. But then the galaxy had conspired to give Obi-Wan back. Jango felt his smile stiffen a little at the thought. The galaxy had brought Obi-Wan back to him, but it had had a price. The Geonosians had beaten Jango’s soul mate heavily, angry at anyone daring to interfere in their affairs.
Jango felt his lip curl in disgust. He’d pay them back for daring to harm his soul mate, but for now he would be pleased with having removed Obi-Wan from them.
His comm beeped again, and Jango glanced at the comm id to see that it was Dooku. Again.
Jango ignored it. If Dooku had a problem with Jango’s choice to take off with Dooku’s prisoner, then he could have that conversation with Jango’s blasters. Their contract had ended the moment the Jetii had found the army, and Jango wasn’t going to get any more mixed up with this war then he had to.
And he did have to. His people were there, mixed up in this mess of a war. People Jango had put there. Thoughts of the clones he’d condemned filled him with guilt, and Jango reminded himself that he had a plan. They would be free.
Jango would make sure of it.
“Boba, would you go get the first aid kit?”
Boba moved instantly, leaving the room at a run and Jango could hear his feet pounding on the ship floor down to the supply closet.
Jango smiled a little at the eager energy before once again focusing on his soul mate.
Obi-Wan stayed limp and heavy as Jango slipped his hands under Obi-Wan’s tunics, and really, how many different layers did his soul mate need? It was impractical. Slowly he unwrapped his soul mate, maneuvering Obi-Wan’s arms out of his sleeves and pulling the tunics over his head.
Obi-Wan’s skin was warm and supple beneath Jango’s fingers, and he let his hands linger a little longer than strictly necessary as he bared Obi-Wan’s torso. He frowned in displeasure as his eyes fell on the bruises and cuts littering his soul mate’s body, left behind by the unhappy Geonosians.
Boba stopped a few feet from the bed, staring wide-eyed at the cuts and bruises. Jango watched with quiet pride as Boba’s eyes hardened, genuine anger there. It was the anger of a Mandalorian whose clan had been hurt. Boba was too young, still, to be able to properly channel that anger into vengeance. But it was clear the thought was on his mind.
“Thank you, Boba.” Jango took the kit from his son and opened it. It had everything in it that Jango would need; Jango fully believed in being as prepared as possible, and that was reflected in the carefully organized kit. He pulled the anti-septic wipes first and set to cleaning the cuts.
Boba watched him carefully as Jango quickly dealt with the damage that’d been done to his soul mate, handing Jango what he needed often before Jango had to ask. Once the bacta and bandages had been carefully applied Jango turned to Boba, watching as his son carefully put all the supplies away.
“You been working with Skirata again?” Jango asked. “You’re doing very well.”
Boba shook his head, making a face at Skirata’s name. “Not him. A few of the medics let me tag along with them for some of their classes, and they gave me tips.”
Jango nodded, a little relieved. There was nothing wrong with Skirata, he was a skilled fighter, an accomplished medic, and a proud Mando.
He also just happened to be skilled at getting on Jango’s nerves, and for all his capabilities, was not exactly what Jango would consider a good role model for Boba.
Beneath his fingers Obi-Wan twitched, a tiny flex of muscle. Jango frowned, shifting one knee to the bed so that he could lean over Obi-Wan properly.
His eyes were flickering beneath closed eyelids, as though he was starting to wake up. Jango muttered a quiet curse underneath his breath. That was just like a Jetii, couldn’t even stay unconscious as long as they were supposed to.
“Boba, run and grab me the Force cuffs.” Hopefully that would keep his soul mate from purging the rest of the drugs from his system too quickly. Mentally he moved his time table up, he glanced at the chrono he kept beside his bed. If he let the drugs run their course Obi-Wan would be awake within the next hour, possibly even sooner. At which point Jango would have to deal with keeping his soul mate out of trouble while he adjusted to his new surroundings.
Or Jango could give him another dose of sedative, finish prepping the ship for it’s new inhabitant, and get his own night’s sleep in.
He considered it a few moments more, before reaching for a hypo. He checked the dosage quickly, he probably didn’t need to give a full dose, especially since Obi-Wan already had a 1 mil dose of Lapozine already in his system. He pressed the hypo against warm skin and watched as Obi-Wan slid back into a deeper unconsciousness.
Boba came back holding two different cuffs. “Which ones?”
Jango disregarded the cuffs that would bind Obi-Wan’s wrists together and grabbed the two thin Force-suppressing bracelets. Unlike traditional cuffs they wouldn’t actually bind Obi-Wan’s wrists together—though they were magnetic and could be used in that function if necessary—but would just serve to limit Obi-Wan’s ability to reach out to the Force.
He clamped them around both of Obi-Wan’s wrists, murmuring a quiet apology as he did so. “This won’t be for forever.” He reassured quietly. “Just until you’ve adapted.” He brushed his hand across Obi-Wan’s chest, where Jango’s own soul mark rested. He wondered where Obi-Wan’s own mark was, but not even Obi-Wan would know. “They shouldn’t have tried to take you from me.”
The very thought was almost enough to enrage Jango. They’d stolen his soul mate’s mark, hidden it and blocked it away.
His rage couldn’t get a proper foothold though, not with his soul mate asleep in Jango’s bed, skin still warm under Jango’s hands. Tomorrow would be soon enough to let the rage fill him, tomorrow when he had to start convincing his soul mate of their future together, when he had to fight the brainwashing that his soul mate had been influenced by since he’d been a child.
He took a final lingering look at his soul mate, before leaving him to sleep.
Jango felt a little bit like he was child-proofing his ship again. Though admittedly, it was much harder to make his ship safe for a not-a-Jetii then it was a kid, even one as curious as Boba had been. For one, Boba would never have tried to kill Jango, while Jango was pretty sure that Obi-Wan absolutely would try.
The thought made him strangely excited. Not that he wanted his soul mate to try and kill him, but he couldn’t help but find it an exhilarating prospect that his soul mate would keep Jango on his toes. Eventually, Jango would be able to re-direct what would probably be a slightly-murderous attitude into something more productive.
Finally, though. The ship was safe enough for Jango to be satisfied.
Boba had already gone to bed, the lights off and Boba under three different blankets. Jango could see the datapad Boba was trying to hide under his covers and Jango pretended not to notice as he wished his son good night. “Don’t stay up too late.”
Boba just nodded, eyes wide and innocent.
Jango closed the door, shaking his head in amusement as he made his way to his own room.
He stopped just inside the door, still taken aback by the sight of his soul mate asleep in Jango’s bed. He shook himself from his momentary paralysis. He picked up the tunic he had already removed from Obi-Wan. The under-tunics had little dots of blood from his beating. Jango could probably get it clean, but he found he had little desire to let Obi-Wan hide under his many layers of Jetii clothes.
He threw the tunics in the trash, he could incinerate them later. They would need to make a stop to get more supplies, but until then, Obi-Wan could satisfy himself in wearing Jango’s clothes. He quickly changed into his own sleep tunic before making his way to his bed.
Obi-Wan was still deeply asleep, body lax. Jango hesitated only a moment, watching his soul mate’s chest rise and fall peacefully, before climbing into the bed beside him. He took the space along the wall and carefully pulled Obi-Wan closer to him. Part of him wanted to arrange them so that they were touching as much as possible. He restrained himself, that would wait until Obi-Wan at least had the choice to be in Jango’s bed. Still, he rested an arm over Obi-Wan’s waist, rationalizing that this much touch at least was acceptable, so that if Obi-Wan woke up, he would almost certainly wake Jango up as well. He let his fingers trace against the edge of skin and bandage, reveling even in that small touch, a small taste of what he’d eventually have.
That ache in his chest that had been there since Jango was nine years old seemed to settle. It was still there, the bond that would have filled the gaping ache was blocked after all, but it was softer.
He couldn’t help but smile. It would take work, getting everything to work out, but it would be worth it.