DISCLAIMER: We do not own Boba Fett, Dengar, Manaroo, or Hello Kitty. All that stuff belongs to Other People, namely the Great Flanneled One. We are not making any money off this. If we were, we would have bought and sold the Flanneled One's ass more times than we would care to count.

WARNING: Reviews are appreciated, but do not flame unless it's a truly creative and well-thought out one. We are not harmed by puny attempts at harming our ego, such as "ur sick, bob fet wudnt do that get a life u suck lol~~~" or other such comments. And once again, we warn any reader that this story is slash, albeit mild, which means Boba Fett and Dengar doing things they would never do-unless the Great Flanneled One is more twisted than we thought.


Boba Fett, the ultimate, the most efficient, the best, and best-dressed bounty hunter in the galaxy was currently sitting on a squealing Gamorrean's back in an attempt to keep him still long enough to put a stun collar on him.

[author's note: don't get the wrong idea just yet]


"Be still. You're getting spittle all over the floors I just waxed."

Indeed, the floors of the Slave I gleamed. But Boba Fett had no time to admire what had taken him two hours in a flowered apron and yellow rubber gloves to do. The bounty had recovered sooner than expected from the tranquilizers he had been drugged with.

Probably all that fat...didn't even give the drugs a chance to get into his bloodstream.


Slightly irritated, Boba Fett grabbed a force-pike off the wall where it hung next to some spare armor plates, binders, and a spatula. He prodded the Gamorrean in the thigh several times, and when that had little effect other than more squealing, he shoved the pike up one of the bounty's nostrils. That took care of the problem. He adjusted the stun collar, and carefully recovered his force-pike.

Gotta remember to clean that...or maybe never touch it again, it's covered in Gamorrean snot...

After somehow managing to shove the bounty into a tiny holding cage, he wiped the sweat off his helmet and inspected his floors.

What a mess. I can never keep this place clean, I swear...

Shaking his head, he checked his Hello Kitty agenda, in which was written:




And crossed the last off the list.

Now where's that paint brush...?

At that moment, the com unit started beeping, and Boba Fett switched it on.


"Hey, Sarlacc-food, it's your only friend, Dengar."
"What is this 'friend' thing I keep hearing about?"

"Eh-heh...oh, you're not joking. Hmm. Anyway, some upstart crime lord from Rodia has some ex-friend he needs alive for torture, mind-games, the usual revenge stuff."

"What's it to me?"

"Well, the thing is, he wants The Almighty Boba Fett on the case. Wants to strike a little fear into the heart of his enemy, wants to have something to brag about at the next Crime Lord Jamboree or whatever it is crime lords do in their spare time."


"Well, basically he wants to buy your name. He's paying me 100,000 credits, but if I bring you along he'll pay us as a team-brace yourself..."

"I promise not to fall out of my armor."

"...half a million credits!"

Boba Fett felt slightly annoyed. Give up his free afternoon, on which he could very well be painting that mangy old cargo hold a nice calming cerulean blue, for chump change?

"Fett? Fett, are you there?"

Boba Fett felt that he should probably express some kind of emotion for Dengar's benefit. Leaning down over the com unit, he very carefully let out a precisely crafted derisive snort.

"Doesn't sound like much to me."

"WHA-half a million DOESN'T SOUND LIKE MUCH?!!!" Static crackled. "I-stup-what the-listen." He could hear Dengar muttering some sort of calming mantra under his breath. "You don't have to do anything. Just tag along, say 'Cower, brief mortal' at all the appropriate times and that's it! You probably don't need the money, but I could sure as hell use it!"

"What for?" Boba Fett suddenly felt very petulant. "To spend on that, what's-her-name, Manatee?"

"Manaroo, Fett! I know you two haven't gotten along-"

"Hmph," Boba Fett remembered the infamous barbecue incident. "Her hair will grow back," he muttered.

"-but she's my wife, and I love her!"

"Luhv?" Boba Fett couldn't quite pronounce the word.
"I need this, I need enough money to buy myself a normal life! I want to live happily, have children, a yard with an outdoor barbecue grill-okay, well maybe not, but-"

Yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, Boba Fett thought as he made the yakking motion with his gloved hand.

"Fine," he cut in in the middle of Dengar's description of what the dinette set would look like. "I'm in."

"Thanks, Fett, you're a pal."


* * *

They decided to take the Slave I, because it was faster, better equipped, and just all-around cooler than Dengar's piece of crap.

Boba Fett leaned against the side of the Slave I, parked on Ord Mantell, while he waited for Dengar to show up. Finally, a battered brown speeder pulled up and Dengar got out. He walked over to Boba Fett, looking quite amiable in his usual burn-victim getup or whatever the hell those bandage-things on his head were. He waved, and Boba Fett turned to spit on the ground, quite a feat, considering he was still wearing his helmet.

"Honeeee! Don't forget your lunch!!"

Boba Fett narrowed his eyes behind his visor.

Dengar stopped in his tracks and turned to grin at Manaroo, who was running up to him holding out his lunch, a bento box wrapped up all nicely with little hearts on it. She was wearing a hat, Boba Fett was mildly gratified to see.

"Thanks, dear," Dengar said as he leaned over to peck her on the cheek.

"Eskimo kiss!" Manaroo squealed, and rubbed her nose against Dengar's. Boba Fett's eye twitched at the cuteness of it all.

Dengar was chuckling fondly as he reached Boba Fett, who hadn't moved from brooding in his spot against the Slave I, and he turned to wave goodbye to Manaroo as she got into the clunky speeder and drove off.

"I just love her," Dengar felt the need to comment as they made their way into the ship. "With, Manaroo, every day is like a gift, and I feel glad to be alive, I just-"

Boba Fett stopped and looked at him intently, looking for all the world like he was really listening, even tilting his helmet to one side.

"-You know what I mean?" Dengar finished, his eyes shining.

Boba Fett nodded thoughtfully. "No." He turned and made his way to the cockpit, very deliberately ignoring the new force-pike on the wall. "Make yourself at home, we're taking off."

He got into his chair, felt unsatisfied, got up again and this time flopped down in a properly sullen way. He reached over for his Hello Kitty agenda and took the time to write something in it, right under FEED THE FISH.


* * *

"Okay, I think I know where the bounty is," Dengar called up to the cockpit one day.

Boba Fett was shaken out of a reverie involving Dengar, a house with a nice yard, children, and a bald Manaroo peering over the fence weeping. He looked down at Dengar, who was helping himself to some unidentifiable stuff from the Slave I's food stores. As Boba Fett watched, it made a feeble attempt at escape before Dengar stabbed it and shoved it into his mouth. Boba Fett locked the precious moment away in his heart before scowling at Dengar behind his visor.


"Hur om," Dengar said around the...food...and held up his hand while he chewed. And chewed. And chewed. While such habits as constantly feeding himself the most disgusting things were certainly endearing, they also made Boba Fett want to chuck his jet-pack at him. Possibly while ignited.

Boba Fett waited patiently-or seemingly patiently, his expression hidden behind his faceplate-while Dengar had a brief struggle with his food and won.
"I think that food was made for Hutts," Boba Fett offered.

"Well, that would certainly explain some things," Dengar said as he cheerfully picked his teeth.

Jet-pack..."...Where's the bounty?" Boba Fett reminded him.

"Oh yeah. Duros."

"What tipped you off?"

"The crime lord."

Boba Fett stopped in the middle of jotting down Duros in his agenda with a tiny pencil. "What?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, the crime lord told me where he was staying."


"Silly of me, huh, forgetting that! And we've been looking all this time for clues-"

Crunch went the tiny pencil.

"But I was watching the holovids and then I just remembered, and I thought, 'oh yeah! Guess I should tell Fett,' but first I got something to eat. Boba Fett, why are you holding your jet pack like that?"

* * *

Boba Fett kicked the bounty's unconscious form into a holding cell and closed the door. Dengar watched him, a cup of coffienne in his hand.

"Pretty tidy pay for such a short day's work."

Boba Fett turned to face him. "I must admit I didn't expect him to be staying in his own house."

"Or for him to invite us in when we knocked on the door."

"I didn't think he would believe you when you told him the binders were part of a magic trick."

"Yeah, and we didn't even need disguises!"

"He complimented my jet-pack."

"Well, it is a nice jet-pack."

"I know."
"Especially that sticker, the one that says, 'How's my driving?'."

"Yeah, I like that one."

They just stood there. Boba Fett, for lack of any annoying habit, coughed slightly. Dengar took a sip of coffienne.

"Well," Dengar said.

"Mmm," Boba Fett replied.



Dengar blinked.

"My cargo hold needs painting. Want to help?"

"Oh, yeah, sure."

"Lemme put the Slave on auto-pilot to Ord Mantell. I'm sure Manaroo is awaiting your return."

"Oh, yeah, well, she can be a bit clingy sometimes."


"Yeah, yeah, women are like that."

"You two seem so perfect together."

"Well, every marriage needs work, I mean, that's what relationships are-it's-it's work. Yeah."

"Nobody's perfect."


"Here's the paint."


For a while they painted the cargo hold in silence broken by Dengar's occasional comment on the nice shade of blue. Boba Fett noted in slight irritation that he was globbing the paint on, not smoothing it on.

"You're doing it wrong."


Boba Fett demonstrated the correct way. "Like this."

"Oh yeah?"


Dengar reached over and very correctly started to paint Boba Fett's helmet cerulean blue. He probably would have stopped if he had been able to see the expression on Boba Fett's face.

"My. Helmet." Boba Fett reached for the ignition on his jet-pack, encountered an open can of paint instead.

Dengar's hearty chuckles were stopped by a wave of cerulean paint. What ensued was an extremely fruity and touchy-feely kind of paint fight, the kind where both sides pretend they are trying to beat each other up but are really trying to tickle each other to death. Yeah.

Boba Fett being the invincible bounty hunter with a secret love for Hello Kitty, he inevitably pinned Dengar.

Dengar suddenly stopped laughing and Boba Fett...kept on not laughing. Eyes connected with shiny visor. Music played. Sparkly things shimmered in the air. Fireworks went off, chubby angels sang, etc. Manaroo's angry spirit was nowhere to be found.

"Why, Boba," Dengar said, wincing at the name by itself, "...Fett. Boba Fett. I never realized how...nice?...your eyes are...I hope?..." He tried again, and said in what he hoped was his most studly manner, "I wonder what you look like under that helmet...and that armor." Then he belched. "Sorry, I really shouldn't drink so much coffienne."

"Dengar...what about Manaroo?"

"Mana-who?" Dengar chuckled at his own witty pun.

"No, Manaroo, your wife. I burned her hair off, remember?"

"Um...shut up and...kiss me."

They kissed passionately, which was quite a feat, considering Boba Fett was still wearing his helmet. There was much rolling around on the floor, and one instance when Boba Fett's jet-pack was accidentally turned on, but after that was taken care of, more rolling ensued, and soon everything was cerulean blue...

* * *

Manaroo got out of the speeder and, straightening her hat, ran toward the parked Slave I. She clutched a wrapped bento box to her chest, wondering if her little Dengy-poo would be hungry and somehow gratified in the knowledge Boba Fett couldn't possibly cook as well as she did.

As she reached the Slave I, the cargo hold's door suddenly opened. [author's note: the business of the cargo hold door of a heavily-armored, high-security ship suddenly just opening at some bald lady's approach to conveniently reveal to her what is inside is necessary to ensure the survival of the fic. Many apologies, ignore, and read on.]

Manaroo dropped the bento box and screamed.

Blue paint everywhere. And in the middle of the whole mess-


Dengar sat up in a flash, knocking Boba Fett off of him.

"Ma-ma-ma-manaroo! Wait! I can explain!"

Boba Fett waved to Manaroo, who if he was a normal person like Dengar would have been wearing nothing but paint and a big smile, but this is Boba Fett, and he was wearing his helmet, too.

"Hello, Manaroo. Do you think blue's my color?"