Chapter Text
High in a palace overlooking the Dune Sea, two bounty hunters sat in amicable silence and cleaned their weapons.
Boba had spent many long, hard years there in the service of Jabba the Hutt. He had a room of his own and a weapons cache with his name on it. He had friends, allies, peers and reluctant acquaintances alike, though most were fleeting.
Few stayed under the Hutt very long. They drifted, came and went, took jobs far above their skillset and were never seen again. But not Boba- he took jobs from all over the galaxy, high and low and lower then, but he always came back to the place he started.
Fennec Shand was an outlier in this, as in many things. She worked for the best and the worst of them and always came back. He'd seen her in his periphery since he was eleven years old, and since then she'd remained little more than another face in the crowd of mercenaries, smugglers, and hunters.
She scrubbed the butt of her rifle with precise, practiced motions, and didn't even spare a glance up when she announced; "Boss has a job for you."
He paused. "For me?"
She kept scrubbing.
Boba propped a foot up on the nearest crate and huffed, checking his comm frequency. No new messages. Usually the Hutt sent Bib Fortuna to relay jobs. "Fortuna won't come tell me himself?"
"He's a little too busy for that right now. In fact, what's keeping him so occupied is exactly the issue he wants you to solve."
A pipe above dripped quietly onto the sandy floor between them, the repetitive sound the only one in the room.
He'd only just gotten back from a job. His back hurt, sore at the base of his spine every time he stretched. Boba sighed. "Alright. Where's the puck?"
She shook her head. "It's not a bounty."
He'd made it incredibly clear that he was not the Hutt syndicate's little errand boy. The notion that this fact had been disregarded darkened his mood considerably. "My rates for--"
Fennec held up a dismissive hand. "That's none of my business. If the boss wants it, he knows your rates, you'll get paid."
Work was work, he supposed. He wasn't in it for the fun or the glory. "Fine. What kind of job, then?"
She gave her rifle a good look-over, checking every nook and cranny for any missed fleck of dirt. It must've passed her test because she hummed, satisfied, and set it aside. "Retrieval."
"Of..?"
"Baron Alius from the Black Sun stole Jabba's shipment of Kallistan gems."
He didn't bother to ask when, where, why- most information here tended to come on a strictly need-to-know basis, and all he needed to know was how to retrieve it.
"And I'm meant to retrieve them on my own." Boba scrubbed his neck, scowling.
She reached around to the bag on the back of her tool belt, retrieving a packet. She unfolded it carefully, smoothing the crisp paper, before throwing it his way. "Here's all the information you'll need. You'd best read it fast; this particular job has a time limit. And you won't be working alone."
He caught it with one hand. "I won't?"
"No. You'll need someone to get you into the event."
"The event." He frowned.
"The Baron will be hosting a party in his private tower soon. Should be an easy cover."
"I'm guessing I am not invited."
She scoffed. "You'll have to wear something else, probably use an alias. Your partner will be the one getting you through the gates."
"And who will be my partner?"
He wondered briefly if it'd be her. They were both well known for insisting upon working alone, but sometimes exceptions had to be made.
"Don't look at me. Being relegated to the messenger is embarrassing enough."
"Of course." Boba peeled open the package and skimmed the pages. Jabba preferred flimsi for the more top-secret jobs; could be burned better than a holo-pad. It was something of a social gathering- he didn't know much about such activities and didn't bother to learn the distinction between the myriad types of parties. "Hm."
"The Baron works in high places. Literally." She pointed to an image of the skyscraper the target was hiding the gems in.
He read the suggested specifications for his partner on the job and blinked. "I don't need someone like this. I couldn't find someone like this, besides."
Fennec spread her legs wide, resting her elbows on her knees. She still looked utterly disinterested. "You're holding the guest list."
He flipped to the page in question, only to see one name on the list highlighted. Lando Calrissian.
Boba blinked. He'd heard that name before. In fact--
"If I'm not mistaken, he knows the Baron well. Not everyone can get into that sort of event."
"If I'm not mistaken he's an irritating, pompous bastard. I've got no need for a man like him."
Word got around fast in the world of criminals and no-good-liars, cheats, gamblers, pirates and smugglers, and Boba had a particular knack for paying close attention to said rumors.
If you stand still enough in any room, faceless in a corner, people speak freely. They say things they normally wouldn't unless in private company. And Lando Calrissian- that's a name that's been spoken in an awful lot of dark rooms. He was known for his schemes; whip smart, yes, but like he said- arrogant.
"You do, actually." She began gathering her things, keeping her eyes trained on her work as she talked. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but that big reputation you're working to build has outgrown the Outer Rim. They'll recognize you."
He scowled. "Perhaps that'll work in my favor."
Fennec rose to her full height, slinging her bag of weapons over one arm. "It won't."
That was that. She gathered her guns and left him there in a dark room of the palace to pore over the job ahead of him.
Something told him this was far above his pay-grade. He'd make a note to request a bonus for all the trouble he went to.
In one of the lower-level cantinas at the fringes of a metropolitan city, Boba found Lando Calrissian sitting at an empty sabacc table, stacking the cards into a six-level tower.
Boba dropped into the seat across from him. Lando tensed.
"Waiting for someone?"
"I am, actually. There's a game due to begin soon and I prefer to show up fashionably early." He relaxed just slightly, continuing to stack the cards. "What brings you here, my friend?"
"We're not friends."
Lando sighed. "Mmhm. Alright then, what brings you here, my acquaintance?"
Just to watch his anger bubble, Boba replied; "We're not acquaintances."
Lando was a grandmaster at the game of conversation, though, and he slyly sidestepped the childish denial with a light, friendly tone. "What makes you say that?"
"You don't even know my name."
Lando smiled demurely. "Boba Fett."
Boba flexed his hands at his sides. Something told him he was being toyed with, though he had thus far held his ground. He decided to cut the fat. "Work brings me here."
"If it's gonna involve me, then I'm sorry to say you've caught me at a bad time. I'm on vacation."
Boba cast a glance around the smoke-filled room. "Playing Sabacc in some shit bar counts as a vacation for you?"
Lando chuckled. "Just the start of it. Nothing wrong with earning a little pocket change before I head out, is there? My ship's being tended to in the port; I'm leaving in an hour."
"No, you're not. "
"I don't recall asking your permission. "
Boba surreptitiously held out a credit chit, yanking it back just before Lando could reach out to take it. "Your services are needed for a job. It'll be well worth your time."
Lando rolled his eyes. "I doubt it. I had some very, very fun things planned."
Boba leaned slightly forward. "It might be more entertaining than you'd expect."
The stack of cards he'd spent so long building trembled and collapsed.
Lando pursed his lips, thoughtfully eyeing him. "What's in it for me?"
"You'll be very well compensated."
"Must be a big job."
"We'll be stealing from Black Sun's Baron Alius, at that little party you've been invited to."
"The syndicate lord's little right hand." He leaned back in his chair, letting his head loll back as he exhaled, eyeing him curiously. "Hmm. That is interesting. I'm still not convinced, though; and I've got a game to play, if you'll excuse me."
As if on cue, a crowd began to gather around their previously private niche. A devaronian pulled back a chair; a Wookie sat on a squat little stool to reach better. A Rodian started aggressively shuffling Lando's collapsed tower of cards.
Boba stayed where he was seated, resting his hands on the table.
Lando eyed him carefully. "What'll you bet?"
He laid a robust credit chit on the table. Lando looked at it. "I thought that was supposed to be my payment."
"It will be."
He leaned back in his seat with a smile, one brow raised. "Okay, Fett. What are your terms?"
"If you lose, you must take me along to the event you're planning on attending tomorrow."
"And what happens if you lose? Besides losing all your hard-earned money."
Boba shrugged. "Up to you."
"Risky bet. Alright." Lando flashed a dashing smile of teeth, one that caught his attention.
He stared for a second before wrenching his eyes away, back to the game at hand. "Let's play."
In the end it was Boba who won, though his opponent certainly didn't make it easy on him. The crowd that had huddled close to witness their high-stakes game began to dwindle as the sky grew dark outside. Chairs scraped against the floor as drunk folk stumbled home, hailing honking, swerving speedercabs outside. The bartender glared boredly as she scrubbed the table around them.
There was no moon on this particular world, just a thousand lucky stars dangling from the sky as Boba declared his success.
Lando looked at the cards on the table- hard evidence of his failure- and sighed, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "You got me, Fett, and you got me good. Suppose I owe you a drink sometime, when we haven't got work in the morning."
Boba just stared, motionless. He'd long since learned that some statements did not demand answers; if left in their own silence most people shut up and kept it pushing.
Lando, however, did neither of these things. He rose to his feet, brushed himself off, and extended a polite hand to Boba.
He didn't take it, rising to collect his winnings, pay and tip the bartender, and turn heel out of the bar. "Let's go, Calrissian."
"My ship is parked in the port," he said, crossing his arms as he caught up to him. "Hangar four, bay two."
"Bay one's holding mine."
"I've got a new one, you know. She's my pride and joy. This old pirate I know took my previous favorite- what she lacked in looks she made up for in speed- so I've had to make do with cheap transports until I could find a suitable replacement."
"Alright." He paused. "You know the Baron?"
"I do. He- well, I've got reason to believe that he's in possession of something that belongs to me."
"What kind of reason?"
"No hard evidence-" he shook his head, "but I trust my own intuition."
He certainly wasn't lacking in self-confidence. Boba huffed, wondering, suddenly, if perhaps Lando had his own reasons for partaking in this job. Maybe Boba winning the game had been orchestrated by Lando himself. He'd have to learn to live with not knowing.
His breath puffed in cold clouds under the light, chilling his face- he shivered.
"It's cold out," said Lando. "Take my cape."
"Don't know if you've noticed, but I've already got one." Boba jerked the shoulder from which the fabric was slung.
He grabbed it and held it up to the light of the streetlamps. Light shone through the many holes. "I'm sorry, I'd mistaken it for a dishrag."
Boba yanked it back out of his hands, scowling behind the cover of his helmet. He'd still not let Calrissian see his face. Having no face to read for tells was probably what won him that game in the first place, and he wasn't about to give up this advantage just yet.
Still, Lando draped his cape over Boba's shoulders. It really was much warmer, lined with something soft and insulated. It smelled of his cologne, or perfume; like lilac.
If Lando wanted to freeze out here at his expense, it was no skin off his back. Boba grunted and kept walking.
"We'll sleep for the night in our respective ships. If you so much as consider skipping town meanwhile, I'll hunt you to the very darkest star at the edge of Wild Space, Calrissian, make no mistake. My mercy has many limits."
"If you'd think I'd be such a coward then clearly you've misread me."
Lando stopped in the road, staring at him. He looked back at him over his armored shoulder. "I read everyone very well."
"Then you know I'll be in hangar four, bay two, in the bronze ship, waiting for you."
He eyed him carefully. Nothing about him gave the impression that he was lying. For all the stories about this man he seemed, thus far, to be surprisingly upstanding- arrogant, yes, with an inflated sense of self, but reliable and sure.
"No need. Come to my ship and we can go from there."
Lando looked him up and down, propping one hand on his hip. "No… we're going to my ship first. If you think you can meet the Baron in that outfit then you are sorely mistaken."
Fennec had said something to the same effect. His armor was too distinctive, more his face than the one he'd been born with. Boba acquiesced with a reluctant sigh. "Fine."
"Be seeing you, Boba."
"....Be seeing you."
They parted ways.
He didn't realize he'd worn Lando's cape all the way home until he began stripping out of his armor for the night. After meticulously cleaning, treating, and placing of it on his display rack, Boba carefully folded and hung the cape over the pilot's seat.
He had a brief and dreamless sleep, tucked quietly into the bunk on his darkened ship.
Daylight broke through the windows of his ship just a few hours too early, yanking him from a fretful dream. Scrubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, Boba avoided the bathroom mirror like he always did, moving on to the most important layer; his outer shell, his inheritance. As he dressed, he noticed with a slightly more careful eye just how many little dents and scratches his armor plates had accumulated over the years. He was due for a fresh coat.
Boba left off his own bedraggled cape, slinging Lando's over his arm to return to him before ducking out the door.
He found Lando right where he promised he'd be, standing on the ramp of his bronze ship with a drink in each hand and a twinkle in his eye.
Boba wondered if he looked at everyone like they shared a special inside joke between them.
"It's good to see you." Lando chuckled. "I have a feeling that's not something you hear often."
It wasn't. The scarcity of compliments Boba received made Lando's all the more jarring- he was grateful for the cover of his helmet, hiding the exasperated smile that tugged at his lips. He sighed and gestured to his ship. "You're sure a disguise is necessary? My armor is more useful than anything you'll have for me."
"You'd be surprised. Tasteful tailoring can do wonders." Lando put his hands on his hips, chest out, smiling radiantly as Boba took in his own wardrobe. He'd worn a vermillion cape, his black shirt beneath accented with matching buttons. It wasn't too far off from the shade of red on Boba's own helmet.
"You'll have to prove it to me."
Lando winked, his eyes bright beneath the sparkling golden eyeshadow. "Deal."
They proceeded up the ramp with no further conversation. There was something pleasant to that silence- smug on Lando's part and reluctantly acquiescing on Boba's- that loosened him up just enough to let Lando splay a hand across the flat plane of his back as they disappeared into his ship.
To his right lay a pile of all the haphazardly folded clothes he had been made to try on and promptly rejected. To his left lay only one more option to finish off his disguise; a cape. He reached down and slung it over his shoulders.
A high collar framed his neck, the green velvet capelet bedecked in ornate embroidery. The red was just about the same tone as his helmet's accents; the blue was as deep and dark as the ocean. Most clothes boasted of themselves but this in particular seemed very proud of its many achievements in both beauty and practicality.
Boba stood and watched as his reflection thumbed the gold tassels dangling off the lapel.
It was soft, too.
They'd been at it for what felt like hours. It took a concerted effort on Lando's part to be allowed a plus-one, but in the end his contact promised they'd receive permission within the hour- they'd filled the waiting time with a bit of a makeover, in which Lando kitted him up in clothes befitting the job at hand.
Still, if it were up to Boba, sitting around and doing nothing would have been preferable to this.
He emerged from the walk-in closet with a frown on his face and a posture so stiff it made his knees ache. He wore no helmet, this time, having set it aside to try on his current clothes. The air of the dressing room was cool on his face.
Lando jumped to his feet.
"This is overkill," Boba grumbled, looking dejectedly down at himself. He tugged at his sleeves, waiting impatiently for Lando to just hurry up and tell him whether it'd work or not. They needed to prepare for the mission; the more time they spent cycling through Lando's seemingly infinite wardrobe, the more time they wasted, in his opinion.
"What a handsome face you've been hiding under there." Lando eyed him with a mirthful smirk. "You're certain you wanna wear a mask?"
Boba tried to ignore the flustered blush of heat crawling up his neck. His frown deepened.
"I'll be playing your bodyguard, won't I? This doesn't suit the look. At least a mask will make it harder to identify me."
"I think," said Lando, "our plan would work more smoothly were we to go a different direction."
"Elaborate."
"Appearing with a bodyguard would make me look as though I'm anticipating a conflict. Now, a couple... too caught up in one another to possibly have any criminal intentions.. now that, that might work. We could avoid prying eyes, and have an excuse ready should we be caught slipping away."
"You planning on getting caught?"
"I'd never dream of it."
Boba did not like that line of thought, but admitted reluctantly to himself that it was likely necessary. He needed to blend in, and how better to do that than to stand beside the flashy and attention-grabbing Landonis Balthazar Calrissian?
What he didn't expect was the gentle hand that brushed over his chest. He glanced up sharply, watching as Lando's expression grew serious, brows furrowed. He meticulously adjusted the lapel, twisting the rows of shiny buttons; then his hands drifted ever so slowly upwards, adjusting the collar of his cape.
He was so close that Boba could feel his breath ghost softly over his face. His entire body was at high alert, every muscle tensed to back away; nobody ever got so close to Boba Fett. Nobody who lived to tell the tale, at least.
Lando, however, got even closer. He slid his thumbs beneath the coat so he could reach the black dress shirt Boba wore underneath. Popping up the collar, his fingertips skated along the soft skin of his throat.
The other man could have drawn a knife on him in that very moment; could've gone for the jugular with his hands alone, even, so close was he to such a sensitive, dangerously vulnerable part of him. His heart pounded. Lando gently pressed both hands to the side of his jaw, little fingers tucked beneath his ears, and looked him in the eyes. "You look stunning."
Boba floundered for words. He kept a straight face, at least, his last scrap of dignity in a moment completely outside his expectations, but Lando seemed to look right through it.
Very slowly, Boba lifted his hands to Lando's forearms, running his hands up them until they covered Lando's, gently cupping his own face. It was both a slip in his facade, a little suggestion of how much the gesture affected him, as well as a defensive instinct. He could shove his hands away from such a position, it was logical, a preventative measure.
That was his justification to himself as Boba inhaled slowly through his nose, enjoying the moment, before he finally pulled Lando's hands away from his face.
"Thanks," he murmured somewhat hoarsely, avoiding Lando's gaze. "It's about time we get going."
Boba and Lando sat in the Slave Won in absolute silence.
"You feel ready for this?" Lando asked tentatively, eyeing his stiff posture.
"Mhm."
"Our plan seems solid, but I'm certain there's something we missed. It's bothering me."
Boba grunted noncommittally. It didn't matter if the plan failed; he'd done his fair share of improvising. Clearly his conversational skills were judged as lacking, though, if Lando's eye roll was any indication.
"...I think it may be best if I do the talking."
"If you prefer." Boba was not a negotiator, a swindler or a mastermind. He was a hired gun. It sufficed. "Talking isn't usually part of my job description."
"You don't wanna be the one in charge, do you."
"There are men who call the shots," Boba said, resting his hand on his thigh near the obscured holster. "and there are men who take them."
Lando eyed the outline of his weapon beneath the fabric.
"I don't like blasters." Lando held up a hand to silence his scoff. "Uncivilized tools of careless destruction, if you ask me."
"I'm not asking."
"I prefer to do things with a more personal touch. Words can be precise in ways a blaster bolt never could."
He leaned back against his seat, sprawled comfortably against the leather. "You haven't seen me shoot."
Boba Fett liked to be meticulous and he liked to be thorough. He did not waste time or energy on flair or intimidation; his approach in battle was always as that of a blunt force weapon.
As it turned out, Boba had struck gold in his alliance with Lando. He knew a man on the inside- a butler with a bitter grudge and a bit of blackmail against him, who reported exactly where they might be able to find those stolen Kallistan gems.
Calrissian had charm, connections, wit and insight, as well as a bottomless list of favors he was owed.
They'd spent quite a bit of time discussing the exacting details of their scheme. The Baron was arrogant and invasive, according to Lando, the type of man who thought he was entitled to everything he wanted, and who would react negatively if denied it. The tower he lived in was a spiraling nest of hidden passageways and secret rooms. Even the VIP sections of his social celebration hall had VIP sections. Like a nesting egg, Lando's verbal mapping of the tower went on and on and on, winding deeper into their many options.
All the Black Sun operatives who'd just been betting on fathiers would clutter up the dance floor, hopefully keeping himself and Lando out of sight. Then the contact would clear the way in one of the halls and usher them into it. From there, they were on their own.
Boba glanced down at himself. His simple black tunic (because it is forgettable, because it hides blood, Boba said, because it makes you look strong, replied Lando) had been decorated with embroidered finishings.
His cape was lined with armorweave and, beneath all that, a few plates of his own armor were hidden, a last resort to protect him should things go south. The mask he'd been given was made of durasteel, buffed in a shiny dark gold. The smooth expanse reflected everything around it, and could retract over his face with the click of two switches.
Lando looped his arm with Boba's as they ascended the stairs. Muffled music thrummed rhythmically from inside, dull and electronic. He paused before reaching for the doorbell.
He ran through their mental map of the tower once more, just to be sure that they hadn't forgotten anything. The thirty story tower in front of them watched from above as Lando fretted with his own armorweave cape, equally on edge. For the first time since he'd met him, he looked genuinely concerned.
"Think I look the part?"
Boba looked up at him. In such close proximity, the difference between their heights felt more exaggerated than usual. The glowing city lights framed Lando's tightly coiled hair in a halo of light; the vibrant blue of his coat cast hazy, candy-colored shadows over his dark skin and yes, yes, he played the part very well.
He put a forefinger beneath Lando's jaw and tilted his head down to look him in the eyes. "You look handsome."
Lando smiled, playfully pushing Boba's hand away. "Flatterer."
The droid by the door buzzed them in.