A/N: another one-shot... I regret to say I got the idea from the Star Wars story Exile. You should check it out!
oOoOo
"Dad, where do babies come from?" Boba asked.
I jumped. "What?!"
"I think that they come from a kiss," my four-year-old son continued, oblivious to my discomfort.
Zam rolled her eyes and pecked him on the cheek.
"No, no," he said. A special kiss. Like... one on the lips."
Zam sauntered over.
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "A baby does not happen when a person is kissed on the lips."
"Prove it!" Boba demanded.
"Gladly!" she retorted.
"Um, Zam," I hissed, "what are you-"
She kissed me full on the lips. I stumbled back, gasping.
She turned to Boba. "See," she said, pointing to her stomach. "No babies."
Boba, seeming disappointed, walked away.
"What was that for?" I asked as calmly as possible.
She arched one eyebrow. "So you didn't like the kiss."
"It's not that-" I began.
"Oh, so it's me you don't like."
"No- I mean-"
She laughed and shook her head. "Really, Jango. You can stand up to, like, a thousand Jedi, but put a woman in your path and..."
She walked away, still laughing.