Chapter Text
Fox woke up curled around a familiar warmth with soft, thick locs of hair smothering his face, and he had to duck into the crook of his lover’s neck just to escape them.
“Quin,” he said softly into a warm bare shoulder. “...Marry me.”
There was a snort, and Quin turned around to look him in the eyes. His gaze was warm, and dark, and slightly hazy from sleep and Fox rolled over so he was on top of him. So he could pin him down and keep that gaze for himself.
“You have shit tastes,” Quin muttered and Fox bit at his lip, a mild punishment for his sass that did nothing to actually curb his sass. “Why do you wanna get married anyway?”
Because I want to be honest. Because I want to share everything with you. Because I’m scared that if I don’t tie you to me with the strongest binds I can, you'll disappear once you discover who I am.
“Because spouses can’t testify against each other in court.”
Quin barked out a laugh so sudden that Fox almost pulled away until strong hands were pulling him back down into another kiss. Fox let him pull away sooner than he usually would, if only so he could hear his answer. If he had one.
“And I was worried you’d suddenly turned into a romantic.”
“Answer the question.”
Ah. Quin was avoiding his gaze. “You know I’m not exactly a steady—”
“I don’t care,” Fox interrupted him. “I want to marry you.”
“...What if I can’t make you my priority?”
Fox almost rolled his eyes. “Is this about your family again?”
Quin had been a smuggler for years and had met Fox when he was undercover trying to get information on a trafficking ring. Quin had known almost everyone worth knowing, had been around here and there since he was a teenager, and Fox had thought getting close to him would be easily worth his while.
He’d been right.
Eventually, as the two of them grew closer, Fox heard all about Quin’s family and his adopted dad.
They were 90% of the reason behind almost all of his sudden absences or disappearances, and if Fox hadn’t been the undercover one out of the two of them he’d think Quin was secretly a commando.
His opinion of a man that let his then teenage son become a well known name amongst illegal smugglers notwithstanding.
Quin’s pout was cute, but Fox wasn’t exactly in the mood for it. “Family comes first. Fine. Marry me anyways.”
“I could have a terrible hidden secret.”
“Oh?” Fox leaned down, their foreheads almost touching. “How do you know I don’t have a terrible secret?”
“Is it…that you’re an illegal smuggler?” Quin batted his eyelashes. “Are you threatening me to keep quiet?”
“Something like that.”
“Well,” Quin finally met his eyes again. “I suppose I have no choice then.”
Fox froze, digesting the words for a moment. Then he grinned and pulled Quin deeper into his arms, kissing him with every ounce of the giddy satisfaction that bubbled up from his chest.
Quinlan Vos was amidst a dilemma.
His oldest and most reliable identity was about to get married. Because he couldn’t say no to an asshole with pretty eyes and strong hands and a charming smile and…
And he was definitely going to have to tell his Master about this. It was fine though, perfectly fine. Lots of Shadows got married undercover.
Most of them had annulments after, but Quinlan could probably talk his way out of it.
Maybe Fox would accept eloping? Especially if he told him his ‘dad’ didn’t approve?
No, because then Fox would want to talk to said ‘dad’ and he’d have to explain everything to Master Tholme anyway.
Marriage was only really binding to Mandalorians. Right? With how common divorce was in the Republic, it was hardly something he couldn’t come back from.
What was the difference between a steady relationship and marriage, anyways? A ring?
Actually, Quinlan bit his lip, what was required for marriage?
Kiffar married without ceremony, by simply being together long enough and committed enough to consider each other as spouses. And Jedi didn’t generally marry at all. Unless for political or other reasons, but those came with their own customs. Most Jedi saw marriage as breaking their vow to put the Order and the peace of the galaxy first.
Quinlan sighed and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. He raised a bare hand to his lover’s face and shuttered through a warm memory with Fox’s many brothers. In this one he was tripping someone into a pond of some kind, stripping off black suits to join in after him.
Most of the visions he got from Fox were like that. Hazy, almost faceless. Never lonely.
He’d started talking about his ‘family’ for the first time to see if Fox would tell him about his brothers. Quid pro quo. He hadn’t, but maybe they’d be invited to the wedding?
There was so much about Fox that Quinlan didn’t know, and while he had gone into this relationship expecting secrets (most smugglers had them) he hadn’t expected to care so much about Fox’s in particular. At least not when they weren’t something that mattered for his mission.
Sometimes he wondered what Fox would get from Quinlan, if he was the one that had psychometry. Would it be the warm memories of his childhood in the creche? Or nightmares of his parent’s death on repeat as his aunt stood over him?
Fox opened his eyes, just slightly, and still somehow managed to roll them.
“Go back to sleep,” he muttered and Quinlan chuckled.
“I’m planning our wedding.”
“Do it when I’m awake.”
Snorting, Quinlan tucked himself back into Fox’s arms and let himself drift off. Thinking of different wedding traditions and whether or not Fox might like them.
When he woke up, there were three full moons in the sky and it was almost as bright as the daylight of Coruscant. Fox was already awake himself, a surprise since he really liked to sleep in, and was nursing a cup of caf.
They were in Fox’s ship this time, fewer memories for Quinlan to get lost in and less of a chance of Quinlan being caught and mercilessly teased by his crechemates. At least, the ones he had left.
He slowly sat up, stretching as much as he could to put his back and arms on display. Fox’s gaze trailed appreciatively over him. Quinlan smiled.
“I made you a cup,” Fox said, his voice still deep from sleep.
Must not have woken up too long ago then. And he was being uncharacteristically nice. What a delight.
Once Quinlan had his own caf and was sitting across from Fox, he finally asked what he’d been thinking about all night.
“What now?”
“Hmm?” Fox looked confused. “What now…?”
Quinlan took a drink of his caf, careful not to meet his eyes. “You were the one who wanted to get married…So what now?”
“Oh,” Fox set down his own mug and smiled, strained, like the planning of the wedding was the last thing on his mind. “Well, I suppose we talk about it. Do you have any traditions you want to include?”
“Ugh,” Quinlan moaned theatrically, “can’t we just elope? I’m pretty sure that’s how it works on Kiffu.”
Snorting Fox pat Quinlan’s hair with faux sympathy. “I don’t think either of our Dads would be happy with that.”
Quinlan blinked, looking up at Fox and taking in the soft, relaxed expression. It was rare, seeing his lover this relaxed, and even rarer for him to actually allude to having a family at all.
“You have a father?” Quinlan leaned closer. “You’ve never told me about him.”
He grimaced, finished off his caf, and looked back at Quinlan as if he were debating what he could get away with not telling him. Eventually he must have come to a decision though, since he deflated and said, “Something like that. Technically I have two, since he’s married but…”
“But…” Quinlan wasn’t about to let his once chance at uncovering his lover’s lore escape his grasp. “Go on.”
“It’s his husband that likes the formal ceremonies. He’s a bigshot politician.”
Oh?
“A big shot politician with a smuggler son,” Quinlan whispered, purposefully loud, “Whatever must he think of you?”
Fox grimaced again.
“That’s… something else I have to talk to you about.”
Quinlan felt a chill—some kind of change in the force.
A warning? No, he’d never gotten so much as an inkling of animosity from Fox after their first few meet-ups. It had to be something else.
He turned his head, to see if there was something going on outside, but even using the force there was no one and nothing around them. Just the light of the moons and Fox, sitting across from him with his heart in his hands.
Quinlan turned back just in time to see him pull out something from a compartment hidden in a shelf. It took a moment for Quinlan to recognize it, since he hadn’t been expecting it. Hadn’t been expecting anything like it.
“Take this,” Fox said, carefully wrapping a weathered red vambrace around Quinlan’s arm. “It’s…step one I guess.”
Memories and visions of others in similar armor and styles crossed his vision for a moment. Just as bright and warm as every other vision he’d snuck from Fox’s presence. He could recognize the voices, the body language of Fox’s siblings surrounding him.
“You’re joking,” Quinlan tried to force his usual cocky smile, tried to fight the sinking feeling in his chest as the vambrace wrapped around his arm became more and more familiar. “This is Mandalorian.”
Fox didn’t respond, didn’t meet his eyes. Just kept looking at the vambrace where it was fastened onto Quinlan’s arm.
“Fox, you aren’t Mandalorian.” He wasn’t even trying to smile anymore. If this was a joke it was a bad one. As far as mimicking Mandalorian courting traditions, well, there were a million and one other traditions Quinlan would have preferred instead.
“Quin—”
He stood up, abrupt, and tried to release his panic into the force. “No. You’re a smuggler, I’ve known you for years. Mandalorians don’t—”
Oh.
That was the bad feeling.
He needed to get out of here.
“I was undercover—”
“Fox…” Quinlan tried to take a step back, but Fox’s gaze rooted him to the spot.
“That’s true, but we believe in Cin Vhetin, so any crimes—”
Quinlan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re going to arrest me? All this time undercover so you can arrest one shitty smuggler doing his best to get by in a galaxy at constant war?”
Clinging to his identity as Quin was second nature. Step one in any worst case scenario. He couldn’t be found out. Not like this.
Not by a Mandalorian.
He tried to take another step back, closer to the exit hatch, but Fox must have seen this coming.
Kriff, of course he saw it coming—he thought he was coming clean to an illegal smuggler. At least that gave Quinlan an excuse.
Turning tail and running, Quinlan tried to get to the hatch before Fox caught him, dragging him back into his chest and keyed in a lock code so Quinlan couldn’t get out on his own.
He stepped, hard, on Fox’s left foot only to be dragged backwards and forced off balance.
Desperate, he struggled in Fox’s arms as best he could without calling on the force until the two of them were exhausted, petty and dissatisfied. But at least Fox’s breath was heavy as it ghosted along Quinlan’s scalp.
“As I was saying…” Quinlan struggled again, out of spite, and Fox tightened his arms around him, even going so far as to lift a leg and trap one of Quinlan’s own. “I’m not arresting you.”
“Then what the hell is this Fox?”
The arms loosened, just slightly so Fox could turn him around and look him in the eyes. “I told you, I want to marry you.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to marry you.”
Fox rolled his eyes, slowly getting off of Quinlan now that he was sure he wasn’t still mid panic attack. He held a hand out to help Quinlan up. “You’ll change it back again,” he said, confident. “Don’t worry.”