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The giggling woke him up. Jango blearily cracked his lids open and winced at the over-bright, sterile whiteness of his Kaminoan home – Manda, how he'd never get accustomed to all of the sodding white – and immediately looked around for the noisemaker. At the end of the bed was a tiny, brown shadow with curls and a set of blinking amber eyes.
"Oh Boba, oh where has my boy gone?" Jango moaned melodramatically. "My son, my dear boy, he's been taken–"
"I here, Daddy!" Boba clambered up the end of the bed like a cat and made a line right for Jango's chest.
"Oh, Boba, I was so worried." Jango kissed his forehead. "So, so worried. I thought the jetii got you."
Boba gasped. "No, Daddy!" he whispered in horror.
"What a relief." Jango chuckled and pushed Boba's curls out of his face. "Tell me, ad'ika, what were you doing at the end of the bed?"
"I huntin, Daddy."
"Oh, hunting? Hunting… me?" Jango mock gasped. "Ner beroy'ika, eh, Boba?"
" 'lek, Daddy," Boba smiled at him. "But, um, but now I hungry."
"I could go for something myself," Jango said. "What would you like?"
"Maaaaybeeee, maybe hominy?" Boba grinned at him. His lower left incisor had fallen out the night before, which had scared the piss out of Jango since he didn't realize they could start falling out at four, but a quick visit with Mij confirmed it was fine.
"I don't think that we have any left, son," Jango said with a regretful shake of his head. "All used up."
"Get more?" Boba questioned. He looked inordinately sad.
"On the next job, I promise."
"Otay." Boba played with the fuzz on Jango's chest for a second. "Maybe, um, make uj cake?"
"Oh, Boba, you're killing me." Jango groaned. "Don't have the stuff for that either. Sorry, little man, I think we're going to have to get some powdered eggs going."
"Otay," Boba said sadly. "Don likem, though."
Nobody really liked powdered eggs, that was true. "I have an idea. Come on." Jango threw the covers off and tugged on a pair of loose pants over his compression shorts. "Daddy will make them better, trust me." He fished out two loaves of instant bread from the cubby and turned the kettle on. "First we need our toast, 'lek? And what do we put on toast?"
Boba thought hard for a moment. "Butter!" he exclaimed.
"Butter, you're right. Go to the fridge." Jango watched his boy toddle over to the fridge and raise up to his tiptoes. He carefully retrieved the tub of margarine – Jango had run out of the real stuff last week – from the bottom shelf and scampered back over with his prize.
The kettle steamed, and Jango carefully poured a bit into each foil container. After about five seconds they rose up, and Jango watched as it solidified completely into fluffy, steamy bread that smelled slightly of burnt plastic. Jango carefully sliced the loaves in half and popped them into the thermoslice. He measured out two bowls of eggs, poured the still-boiling water over them, and after a few stirs they were fluffy, tasteless dregs of protein.
"Now you put the butter on," Jango ordered, kicking a stool over to the counter and lifting his boy to counter height. "Daddy'll make the eggs good."
"Makem good?"
Jango retrieved a prized bottle of uj'ayl syrup from the cubby. There was hardly any left, but he may as well use it up now. He had a job lined up. He'd be able to restock soon.
"All done, Daddy!" Boba eagerly announced once the toast had popped up. "Can I– can I do butters?"
"Absolutely, ad'ika, do the butters." Jango watched his son carefully remove one slice at a time and then spread an unholy amount of blue margarine over the tops. He beamed at Jango once he was done. "I careful."
"So careful." Jango ruffled his hair. "Take it to the table, now."
"Otay." Jango followed his son with the eggs as he carefully walked the plate of toast to the table like he was presenting it to the Mand'alor for judgment. Once on the table, Boba crawled up to his chair and sat on his knees.
"Ready?" Jango placed the bowl of sweetened eggs in front of Boba. "Here. Tell me if they're good."
Boba took a bite of the sweetened eggs and gasped. "Is good, Daddy!" He eagerly shoveled in more.
Jango couldn't help but grin at his eager son. "Real good," he agreed, taking a bite of his own.
"You smart, Daddy," Boba said through a sticky mouthful.
"Thanks, son." Jango ate his own eggs at a slower pace than his boy, who was eagerly shoving them in at the speed of sound.
"All done, Daddy!" Boba announced. He started to lick his plate like a strill.
"I see that," Jango chuckled. He finished off the last of his toast and collected the plates. "Alright, ad'ika, what do you want to do today?"
"Ummm…" Boba looked at his sticky hands. "I gotta wash."
"Go and do that, then." Jango turned on Boba's cartoons after the boy toddled at top speed to the fresher to wash up. He loved that weird, yellow Nautolan who worked at a fast food place and caught jellyfish with his Mon Calamari neighbor. The voices drove him insane, but Boba loved it.
"Sprangorb!" Jango heard Boba gasp from the fresher once the theme music started up. "Sprangorb! Sprangorb!"
"Yes, Sprangorb." Jango settled onto the sofa and put his feet on the coffee table. Boba sprinted out with his hands and face still wet and jumped onto the sofa from ten feet away. He landed like a missle on the cushion next to Jango and immediately tucked himself into his side.
"I love Sprangorb," Boba said dreamily, absently playing with the hair on Jango's arm. "An' I love you, Daddy."
"Love you too, Bo'ika." Jango pressed a kiss into Boba's curls. "I love you too."