a good man is hard to find - chapter 11 and epilogue [AO3]
Obi-Wan opens his eyes. The room’s dark, the tiny lamp he found in Anakin’s crate barely enough to illuminate their little corner. It lends the illusion of—privacy, of comfort. He blinks. He hurts, but it’s not—he feels good. Fett’s still half-asleep at his side, his back against Obi-Wan’s chest, and he’s warm. Every time he exhales his breath caresses Obi-Wan’s wrist, and by now his arm has fallen asleep where it lies under Fett’s neck, but Obi-Wan finds he doesn’t actually want to move.
He yawns. Last night feels like a dream. But no—it happened. It was real. Obi-Wan closes his eyes, genty leans his forehead against Fett’s—against Jango’s head. His curly hair tickles Obi-Wan’s nose, and he sighs.
He reaches out with his mind—Boba and Anakin are still asleep, their dreams troubled but stable. They will stay that way for at least a couple more hours. Dawn is still some time away, and the night feels both heavy and delicate at the same time: the room beyond their little bubble of warmth and skin is cold, and it’s so quiet Obi-Wan can hear Boba’s breathing on the other side of the half-closed door.
Jango twitches awake. Obi-Wan doesn’t open his eyes, and he stays where he is, his right arm under the man’s neck, his left cradling him against his own chest, their legs intertwined.
Jango’s thoughts change, from comfortwarmthdesire to nothing at all. It’s terrifying, how good he is at shielding his mind. Most non-Force sensitives don’t know how to marshal their thoughts like that, don’t even know that something like that can be done.
He’s terrifying. Obi-Wan sinks his nose in Jango’s curls and scowls.