He doesn’t like it.

No scratch that, he hates this, but he leads Organa and the two clones into the kings suite behind the throne.

Fennec, that damn loiterer, simply smirks knowingly at him while the courtiers whisper to each others. Most however has caught on that Boba can and will do almost anything for Din. That includes letting enemies into his own private, safe space to keep an eye on Din and his comfort.

He won’t have Din out in the throne room again, sleeping on his lap in his feverish state but sleeping on the couch would be alright, tucked up under the soft but warm night blankets they had.

Which is why he leads them into the living room where he normally only entertains those he trusts like Fennec, Din and these last few days, Cobb Vanth.

There is also the occasional visitors from his past that he makes a point of catching up with, checking if they are trying to use him for his new connection or if they are really there as his former friends.

Din is of course waiting when they enter, sitting on one of the bantha leather couch with the blanket around his shoulders, Boba’s robe peeking out from under the fuzzy, black blanket.

He perks up when Boba enters and Boba makes a beeline for the other, making his way between the couch and the caff table containing his water canteen, sitting down and carefully encouraging Din to lay his head on his lap. “You were suppose to already be asleep.” He scolded gently, pressing his hand to Din’s forehead.

Still hot but not as bad as yesterday.

Russal had come by with some fever dampening medication and Boba had encouraged quite a bit of cold water into the other man, both things seemed to have worked a little.

Din hummed, pressing into the hand before rolling around so he could press his face to Boba’s stomach. “Was waiting on you buir’ika.” He murmured sleepily, closing his eyes with a content little sigh.

Lips twitching into a small, involuntary smile, Boba glanced at the other three, finding Organa watching them with narrowed eyes while the two other clones shifted uncertainly behind her. “Are you going to sit or not.” Boba stated blandly to the three, staring at them with narrowed eyes as he tucked the blanket more around Din, tucking his hand into the wild curls of his lover hair.

His lips twitched again at the pleased hum that gained him and he looked back down to his lover, ignoring as he heard the shift of the three moving, finally taking a seat on the other bantha leather couch across from the caff table.

None of them said anything, Boba focusing on Din, carefully scratching at the other’s scalp and the other three observing and looking about at Boba’s and Din’s private space.

Not that Boba cared, anything incriminating had been put away into the bedroom and the beaded curtain made it hard to distinguish anything in there from here. He didn’t offer them any refreshment, they weren’t welcomed guests and princess herself had upset upset his princess.

So no, unless they asked for it or apologized, Boba was not about to be a gracious host. “Ori’jate, nuhoy jii ner runi.” He murmured softly, Din letting out a sleepy little noise against his stomach.

A feminine inclined voice cleared their throat and Boba grunted before looking up, giving Organa an unamused look as he continued slowly petting Din, resting his other hand on the others arm.

The two leaders gave each other a long look, both equally judging as the two clones just shifted on the couch, looking slightly nervous, as if they expected a firefight to happen.

“He’s not a slave.” Organa’s sure voice had Boba raising a brow.

Brown eyes shot past Boba, looking to the left and down and Boba followed it behind his shoulder, pausing when he saw what she had noticed.

Din’s silver beskar chestplate, barely peeking out from underneath a sheet but enough to be seen and the shape telling what it was. The silver cuirass couldn’t be mistaken for Boba’s, not when it was clearly seen on the stand with his helmet on top.

Boba slowly returned his eyes to her, staring at Organa, his jaw tense as he wished he had a blaster on him. “You have a second lieutenant,” Organa continued, staring mercilessly at Boba. “A mandalorian, silver dressed beskar,” Her eyes shot down to Din, his breath’s slow and steady. “…He speaks mando’a.”

Boba wanted to kill her.

Clearly some of his intent was showing as both her clones were reaching for their weapons.

However, Organa held up her hand, still staring at Boba. “…He’s here because he wants to be.” She stated, not asked.

Still, Boba nodded. “The intricacies of our relationship is not for anyone else to judge, but yes. I don’t fuck slaves and I don’t pay for sex, regardless what my former profession would have lead you to think.” He sneered at her, rubbing at Din’s hair still to keep his love asleep.

The last thing he wanted was for him to be awake for this.

Organa narrowed her eyes at him again.

He didn’t blame her for not having a positive view of him but frankly, she could shove those thoughts right up her arse. “My father,” The two clones jumped, eyes focused on Boba at the mention of Jango but Boba glared at the fancy little Senator that thought her worldview was everything and everything fit in neat little boxes. “Was a slave, I saw his scars, I will never forget them. What my employers chose to do, I can not change, I was trying to survive and I was not created with a silver spoon in my mouth princess. But I am in charge of Tatooine now. My legacy will be different.” He glared darkly at her.

Organa looked like someone had put her neat little view of the galaxy in a box and shaken it up.

Snorting, Boba settled back, focusing on Din as he worked out a tangle of curls. “…My Princess needs someone there, someone he can trust to help him put himself together. And that’s all I will say about our relationship. Anything else will get you sent the fuck out on your ass in the sand Organa. Not even Skywalker or your nifty craft up there can cower that information out of me…” He shot a glance at her, an ugly smirk crossing his face. “But you know, as they say, like father like daughter.” He sneered.

Several things happened at once.

Organa gave a hiss like an angry cat, knowing exactly what Boba was hinting at, reaching for the blaster on her hip as she stood from the couch. The two clones desperately reached for her at the same time as they reached for their own weapons and Boba jerked too, reaching for his own.

Din beat him to the punch, jolting into action, grabbing Boba’s blaster from his hip and throwing himself onto his feet with the blanket wrapped around his waist still, knocking his calves into the caff table even as he placed the mouth of the blaster under Organa’s chin, eyes feverish but there in the moment, recognizing a threat.

Outside of Din, everyone froze, Din standing still as a statue with the blaster held to the New Republic Senator’s throat. “…Put your blaster down.” Din raspy voice murmured, eyes cold as she stared down at her.

Organa bared her teeth a bit, visibly frustrated only to jump when Boba spoke, reaching up to place his hand on Din’s lower back, rubbing his lower back. “Udesii ner kar’taylir darasuum. Udesii.”

Din didn’t move, though his hand quivered slightly.

“Please love, come back here little one,” Boba crooned quietly, breathing out quietly through his nose as Organa dropped back and Din mirrored the action, settling back down against Boba with a tired little noise. “There we go. You’re suppose to rest.” He semi scolded, carefully tucking the blanket around the other again and encouraging him back to Boba’s lap.

The other three were watching of course, Organa still bristling but the two former troopers, who Boba was certain now was Rex and Wolffe if his memory served right, were relaxing more.

It confused Boba, until he remembered… most clones knew some mandalorian.

The two knew what Boba had called Din.

Sending the two troopers a slightly angry look, the scars thankfully hiding most of his flush, Boba continued working Din to a drowsy contentment again, working out the adrenaline fueled battle instincts the hunter had honed through so many years.

Thankfully, Organa at least didn’t seem to know and while the other two could have told her, Boba instead launched into whatever kark Organa wanted so he could get them off his planet.

One day of peace, that’s all he wanted, one karking day.

Ori’jate, nuhoy jii ner runi = Very good, sleep now my soul

Udesii ner kar’taylir darasuum = Calm down my love.