The Awkward Pairings Series

Not for the faint of heart.

Chapter One: Dustil/Canderous (kind of)

Returning from Korriban, for Carth, was difficult. When before his inability to escape his son had been strictly mental, now every time he turned a corner, there was that frighteningly familiar pair of hazel eyes staring back at him, those eyes he had not seen for a decade.

And though Dustil was still Dustil, there was no denying there was something different about him. His inflections in speech were different, almost Mandalorian. His stance was that he had taken on the short time before his capture, his mother’s look, the weight to his hips when he walked, or stood. Everything about him echoed of his mother, down to her subtle madness, the way his voice falsely lilted when he was tired, or was lying. Where Dustil as a child was rarely angry, this Dustil flew off the handle at anything (sort of like his father, Mission had pointed out to a begrudging Carth). When Dustil was a boy he had been affectionate and open, but this Dustil was withdrawn and edgy, though there was still that immeasurable intelligence, and that deep part of him that urged to be good, and the longer he stayed on the ship, the easier things seemed to become.

Everyone seemed to like Dustil, strangely enough. Even Bastila, who became flustered as he passed by, even if he didn’t even look at her. This was another thing that changed about him – this Dustil almost never looked anyone in the eye. He also made a lot of noise. As a boy, he had been one of few words, and who avoided making much of a scene. Dustil now was always humming, or whistling, or singing softly to himself, dropping things, and breaking things, and making comments, asking questions, drawing conclusions to himself. He didn’t like to sit still, and fidgeted always, begging to help anyone to give him something to do. And even when he slept, he moaned and groaned and mumbled, and bucked; or he screamed, and cried, and had terrible dreams.

This was why he spent so much time working in the garage with Canderous. Dustil simply could not keep still, and Canderous, with his long and pretty stories, was one of the only ones who could manage to shut the kid up for any length of time. Canderous was oddly fond of Dustil anyway. They got along like father and son – better than father and son, which made Carth furious. And jealous.

Dustil was doing that, now, as per usual. The only reason Carth knew this was because Mission was pouting, curled up in Zaalbar’s lap in the middle of the passageway.

“He never wants to talk,” Mission whined at Carth, who hadn’t even said anything to her yet. “I’ve done everything. I may be only fourteen, but he treats me like a little kid! He’s not that much older than me!”

Carth shrugged. “He’s a legal adult,” he said, not exactly be way of excuse for his son.

“Yeah? I don’t think that’s it.” Mission sniffled, and Zaalbar gently massaged his claws over the top of her head. “I think I’m just ugly.”

Carth sighed. He’d never had a daughter, and adjusting to Mission was like learning to breathe water. “You are most certainly not ugly, Mission.”

“Yeah, but I’m not pretty.”

“You are very pretty, Mission.” Carth just wanted to get on his way.

“You think so?” She smiled faintly. “That’s kind of gross that you would think so.”

“Ha ha fucking ha.” There was no winning with Mission. Ever.

“You know what?” Mission declared, brandishing finger. “I think he’s gay.”

“You probably wouldn’t be wrong,” Carth admitted (feeling a sudden sense of nausea).

Mission gave him a weird look. “Seriously? I was kidding.”

Carth shrugged. Something like dread was swirling around in his gut.

“Sorry,” Mission said quietly, but Carth was moving again, leaving her behind. “Where are you going?” she called after him.

He didn’t answer her. He was heading for the garage. He heard her start after him, but then she stopped; maybe she realized that this wasn’t her place. Maybe she had some sort of premonition of what she was about to see, and was smart enough to stay out of it.

Because what Carth walked into was one of the most horrific things he had ever seen in his life, and by God had he seen a lot.

Dustil was bent backwards over the swoop bike’s hood, kicking and squirming, and from what Carth could see through Canderous’s bulk, there was a hand wandering where it shouldn’t, not in Carth’s son, anyway. But, Dustil wasn’t complaining. He was making this noise, this sound that Carth was certain he wasn’t meant to hear, and he was giggling.His ears were blushing red just like his mother’s used to, and he was probably fully intent on doing this, this thing with this Mandalorian who was nearly triple his age, but then he turned his head and saw his father standing there.

It was like some sort of dam had been broken, and they were both screaming. Canderous jerked away, drawing his blaster and aiming it at Carth. But then he recognized the man, and he realized his transgression, and he let his weapon drop.

“Hello, Onasi,” he said, and his voice was so casual, so disgustingly cool, and before Carth had realized what was happening, he had lunged forward to punch this Mandalorian in the face.

Canderous swore, stumbling backwards before he returned the assault full-force. The two men fell into a mad fist-fight as Dustil screamed at them to stop it, stop it. Carth got his hands around Canderous’s neck, and was squeezing, and he could feel his son attacking them both, but he was too small to make any real sort of physical protest. If Dustil had been really on the ball that evening, he would have used the Force, but the shock of his father walking in on him kept him from thinking clearly.

Carth had fully intended to kill Canderous if Revan hadn’t come up behind him, grabbing his arm and twisting it painfully behind his back, while Juhani and Bastila came behind Canderous and knocked him to the floor.

Restrained, the two men resorted to spitting on each other vigorously.

“STOP STOP STOP!” Dustil kept on screaming. His asthma made his cries almost unbearable to listen to. They whistled and caught in the back of his throat, and finally his yells died down; he crouched on the floor and wheezed, and wept with frustration.

“What is this all about?” Revan snarled in Carth’s ear. Carth was soothed by Revan’s voice, already, and relaxed a bit in that grip.

“Canderous is raping my child,” Carth declared, and Dustil moaned into his hands.

Canderous set his jaw. “Legal consenting age,” was all he said.

If Carth could have reached his gun, he would have killed Canderous then. Instead, he turned his rage on Dustil, who was heaving and wheezing in the corner, and who looked so much like his mother. His fists were clenched until the knuckles were white nubs on red skin. “Why aren’t you fighting?” Carth yelled at him.

Dustil just shook his head. The expression of anger on his face was unmistakable, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a whistling gasp. He grabbed his breathing capsule and held it in his mouth, staring at his father all the while. If his asthma wasn’t so bad he might have gotten into an actual fight just then.

“You are grounded,” Carth decided, feeling feeble and slightly awkward.

Dustil looked as though he was ready to argue, but it was another day until they got to Dantooine, and it wasn’t worth it. “All right,” he said. His tone was clipped. “All right.”

He stood, and left the room. After a moment there was a crash, and some fierce yelling – Dustil had walked into Mission, and she was less than pleased.

-fin

There was no point to this fanfiction whatsoever.

I am terribly, terribly sorry.