Chapter Text
“We miss you.”
Grogu’s little voice is tinny through Luke’s phone speaker, crackling on the last word as his face freezes for a moment.
Luke pulls his legs in closer, sighing. It’s past midnight in London, but Din is just finishing up Grogu’s dinner in KC, busy in the background of their FaceTime but adding to the conversation occasionally. He’s shirtless under his apron, something that Luke has been quietly admiring for the duration of the call.
What Luke would give to be there with them, curled up on the couch with Grogu, watching Din cook. They would set the table together and joke as they ate their pasta, and then after Grogu was tucked into bed, Luke could pull on the ties of Din’s apron and press his front to Din’s naked back and…
“...and then I spilled the beads all over the carpet! But not the ones I picked for your–”
“Grogu!” Din interrupts, suddenly half in the frame, fork in hand. “Let’s talk about something else.”
The four-year-old frowns up at Din, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “I was just talkin’ ‘bout the beads!”
“Ye-es and maybe we should–”
The image of confused Grogu and Din’s bottom half freezes on Luke’s phone, going pixelated for half a second before suddenly speeding up into another image.
“Din?” Luke says to his phone. “You guys are frozen.”
“But da-ad!” Luke hears before the image of Grogu half-turned toward the kitchen appears.
“No– and— I told—”
The sound of Din’s voice stutters for a few more words before the connection dies. Luke’s phone beeps at him to signal the end of the call then drops to his call log. Desperately, he presses Din’s number, trying to call again, but it fails to go through immediately.
Luke growls in frustration and slams his phone down on the coverlet. How many times had he begged Din to get a new phone? Every time he’d mentioned it, Din had shrugged, insisted that it worked fine, and yet here they are.
Luke flops to his back in his hotel bed, wrenches a pillow onto his chest, and presses his face into it, hard.
He should be thankful for technology, he knows. It’s helped him keep him in touch with Grogu and Din and Leia during this tour, but sometimes he wishes humanity could just hurry up and invent teleportation already. Surely someone is on it. Maybe his team could find them for him.
You can bring your kid to my show for free, Luke thinks, VIP section. Just teleport my brain to Kansas City, MO please.
Luke pulls the pillow from his face and huffs. He’s not physically exhausted, not exactly. At this point of his tour, his body is like a well-oiled machine. But his mind… his heart. It’s beginning to fray at the edges a little bit. Night after night of the same songs, the same choreo, the same lights… it’s equally stimulating and monotonous. He’s constantly teetering between excitement and burnout.
Eventually, he’ll crack, won’t he? That’s probably what the media is waiting for. A chink in the armor to show up; a momentary lapse and stumble on stage. They love to report on his every flight back to visit Din, but they haven’t quite picked up on how tied his sanity is to that thirty four year old football player and his young son.
Just a few more weeks, Luke reminds himself, settling further back into the bed. Din’s recovery from surgery has gone well, and he’s finally been cleared to fly to Hamburg just in time to see Luke before NFL summer training camps begin. It’s a short window, painfully short, but it’s better than nothing.
He can do it. Luke squeezes his eyes together. He can.
–
Wembley rattles with noise above them as Luke and his team make their way backstage where his band and backup dancers are waiting. Tonight’s openers have really killed it; the audience that’s been steadily trickling in for the last couple of hours are hyped, chanting in that endearingly British way that Luke has come to love in the last week.
He imagines them all out there, bedazzled and colorful, exchanging homemade friendship bracelets – an unplanned but delightful tradition of each of his shows. They deserve a great show, just like every other city, any other night. He wants to give them his best.
So he shouldn’t be thinking about the fact that he hasn’t heard from Din in nearly sixteen hours. It’s the last thing that should be on his mind right now. But he can’t help that nagging feeling, that clawing anxiety. It’s just so unusual. They’ve been in constant communication – texting or talking or in each other’s arms – since that very first DM in October.
Luke takes a deep breath, trying to empty his brain of anything that isn’t song lyrics and light queues and dance moves. He can’t worry about anything else right now.
“The hat is going to Genieve Dawson tonight,” Luke’s stage manager reminds the pre-show huddle. Across from him, the troupe’ Dance Captain Wedge gives the other dancers a strange smile, but Luke doesn’t remark on it. They’re allowed to have their own opinions. He’s dragged them from sea to shining sea and beyond; he trusts them with his life at this point.
Luke stoops and makes his way under the stage to his place beneath the trap door. The music swells above him, and the audience screams as the dance troupe walks out. This is it. His last night at Wembley starts now. The lift beneath his feet rises, and Luke has one last fleeting thought to Din and Grogu, somewhere across the dark ocean and miles of American soil, before he starts to sing.
The show is tight; one of the best nights they’ve ever had on this tour. Everyone is hitting their marks like the professionals they are, not a misstep or stumbled choreo move in sight. Their energy on stage is infectious; Luke’s never moved through the show with such ease. During one transition between songs he wonders if they’ve finally hit their stride – crew, musicians and dancers. Is this what top of the world showmanship looks like? Luke feels unbelievably grateful for it. When he looks out into the crowd his chest swells with bittersweet pride. He’s so thankful he can put on a show that his fans deserve. He just misses two in particular at the moment.
No, Luke berates himself, strumming hard on his guitar. Don’t. Not now. Not when it’s going so well.
He’s always been pretty good at compartmentalizing.
Luke walks down stage and escapes into fog for his next quickchange. Just like everything else tonight, it goes perfectly, and the hat dawns his head right as he prances back on stage. It’s an old callback from one of his early music videos; the iconic black hat associated with a beloved album. He meets up with his dancers and dances down stage with them as he sings. Each one of them seem to be giddy with that same infectious energy. Wedge, in particular, has a weird look on his face, making Luke laugh mid-verse.
At the end of the stage is the staircase where a special kid chosen by his team is always waiting to receive the hat. It’s one of Luke’s favorite moments in the whole show– a chance to give back to a fan, usually a child, and thank them for their interest in his music. They’re a representative of the whole “Skyguys” gang, given a token of his gratitude for the opportunity to have this incredible tour. As he approaches the end of the stage, the spotlight turns on, and a mop of dark hair and big brown eyes peep up at Luke. A grin so big that Luke would know it anywhere, shines up at him.
Luke stumbles, tripping over his boots and sliding on his knees all the way across the rest of the stage. Without a thought, Luke gathers Grogu tightly into his arms and bursts out laughing.
“What are you doing here?!” He yells above the music and the screams of the crowd.
“Surprise!” Grogu yells back, beaming.
“I am so surprised,” Luke laughs. He reaches up to take off the hat and push it onto Grogu’s head.
“Please tell me your dad is here,” Luke says, unable to resist grabbing Grogu’s shoulders. Behind him, Luke’s band adds more bars to give him time with Grogu, but he knows he’s got to get back on the stage.
Grogu nods, still grinning ear to ear. He gestures behind him, and that’s when Luke meets Din’s eyes for the first time in two months and thirteen days. He’s standing just behind Grogu, baseball cap on, shy smile pressed between his lips. Din gives a small nod of his head, aware, of course, of the thousands of cell phones suddenly swiveling around to film him, but even that small gesture speaks volumes to Luke.
He squeezes Grogu one last time, then goes to stand, but Grogu stops him. He pulls at a friendship bracelet around his wrist, one of the stacks on his little arm that he’s collected at the show. But this one is precious, judging by the way he carefully transfers it from his little arm past his wrist and onto Luke’s.
“Your spilled beads!” Luke laughs, suddenly remembering Din’s anxiety on their call.
Grogu nods, and Luke clasps his hand around the bracelet. He winks at Grogu and sends one more lingering smile to Din before jumping up and finishing the song.
Luke feels lighter than a feather, all of a sudden, less grounded in the familiarity of the show's queues and choreography, and more loose as he walks around. The bracelet falls down his arm every time he lifts his mic, giving him a giddy reminder of his surprise audience members in the VIP section.
During his next quick change, costuming tries to remove it, but Luke stops them. He can’t bear to take it off, not yet, not this precious gift from his favorite kid in the world. They all glance at each other, laughing a little bit at him, trying to tell him something, but there isn’t enough time, and Luke has to move back on stage to the next song.
When Wedge hands him his guitar, he points to the bracelet too grinning like he’s caught Luke doing something ridiculous. Strangely, every single person on stage with him seems obsessed with how sentimental Luke is being. But he can’t seem to care. Luke’s already released an album of songs about his love for Din; what’s one more moment showcasing his affection for Din’s son?
Speaking of, Luke takes a moment to breathe, looking out into the crowd as his band gets ready around him.
“How are we doin?” Luke calls out to the audience, smiling. He rests his hand on the body of his guitar; the beads of the bracelet press up against his skin. His eyes go to the VIP box, and he wishes he could make out which silhouette belongs to Din. This is their song, afterall.
“This is a song,” Luke says as he strums his guitar, “I wrote earlier this year… before the Super Bowl.”
The arena erupts, making Luke laugh before he starts the first chord.
“ There’s a certain kind of roar in my ears ,” Luke sings along with the crowd, “ in the bright of the lights… ”
It’s his favorite song to sing, of course, the first he wrote about Din, about the flowers Din had given him, about the unexpected devotion Luke felt in such a short time of dating Din. About the temptation Luke feels every single time they’re back together again to press a ring into Din’s hand, to beg him to marry him.
“ But they don’t know the feeling when your son and I hatch a surprise just to make you smile… ” he laughs as he sings. This time, Din and Grogu had surprised him.
Luke moves with his guitar back up the enormous stage, smiling at the fans on the floor around the stage. He dips his guitar, mugs at a few of them, beaming as they erupt into an unexpected screech. He laughs as he continues to strum and move to the spot where he’d normally hand his guitar back to Wedge and sit at his piano.
But instead of Wedge, he sees Din.
Luke freezes, fingers pressed down hard on his guitar strings, mouth open from an abortive laugh, other hand hovering above the guitar, ready for one last strum. Din is standing by the piano in full costume, the suit all of the male dancers wear for the next number, and custom boots that match Luke’s iconic black Chanel’s.
Luke stares, mind blank, unable to think as Din shimmies. Face strained, eyes panicked, like he’d once thought that this was a great idea, and is now discovering he’d made a bad calculation.
But what was his idea? Luke can’t fathom, can’t even breathe. Some sort of muscle memory saves him for half a moment when he closes the gap between him and Din and hands over the guitar. Din takes it, smiling nervously. Even shocked out of his mind, Luke still can’t help smiling back,
What is going on? Is this is a dream? Has he finally cracked? Has he been missing Din so much that he’s hallucinating him on the stage right now?
“Did you look at the bracelet?” Din asks so low only Luke can hear. When his hand goes around his wrist, the crowd screams again. Slowly, gently, Din tugs the bracelet up Luke’s arm, and turns it until the beads are twisted inward.
Luke glances down at the bracelet. He’d seen the frogs before, their little green faces between brown and blue, but now he notices the iridescent beads with black letters, letters that spell something.
He holds it up closer to his face begging his swimming eyes to focus for a second, just a damn second, so he can read them.
Because they can’t really say that. They can’t. There’s no way that this is really happening. Luke stares and stares as the crowd screams and screams.
Black letters against silvery iridescent. They read:
Marry me?
Luke bites his lip. His stomach erupts in butterflies; his mind whites out in pure joy. The letters seem to have burned into his retinas when he finally looks up again at Din. They dance around his flushed face, asking Luke again.
Luke tackles Din.
For the first time in Din’s eleven years of playing professional football, he’s not ready for it. His knees buckle, and he stumbles backwards, too busy protecting Luke from smacking into the stage floor to soften his fall. They land with an oomf , but Luke hears Din laugh despite the unprecedented roar coming from the audience around them.
Luke laughs too, then presses a small kiss to Din’s cheekbone before clambering off of him. His head feels light in the best way, like he’s high off euphoria. Like nothing could ever bring him back to earth.
Din takes his hand and rises with a surprising amount of grace. He’s bright red, but seems pleased. Luke beams at him. This is outside of his comfort zone, Luke knows. He could’ve quietly asked Luke in one of their homes or in a secluded place away from cameras; instead he’d chosen the place Luke felt he could be his loudest, proudest self while still keeping it private between them. And Grogu, of course.
“Meet me after?” Luke asks. The band is waiting for him, for the next song, for the next hour of concert left before they can reunite.
“Of course,” Din reassures with a small smile, and then he’s being bustled off stage, eyes on Luke until the very last moment when he has to turn his head and leave.
Luke watches him go, just for a moment, still feeling like he’s floating above the stadium, miles in the air, looking down at this glorious moment, feeling every single feeling of every single person in the crowd around them.
He sits at his piano and plays.
–
“Well that’s my favorite, but mum likes the slow songs,” the young princess says.
Luke smiles down at her and her brother, trying his very best to give them his full attention, even when it feels like his heart is outside of his body, walking around somewhere in this stadium, waiting for him.
“How many people are on your crew?” Their father asks, looking around the backstage room where Luke’s team is mingling with the Princes’ security detail and staff. They had carefully briefed Luke for this visit for weeks. Why they decided to schedule it for the same day that they knew Din and Grogu were going to be in London, Luke doesn’t ask, but he’s doing his best to stay present. Prince William seems like a decent guy, and his kids are adorable.
But the conversation is suddenly interrupted when the door to the room slams open, and Grogu, still wearing the black hat and covered in glitter, comes waltzing in, undeterred by Luke’s bodyguards. Behind him is Din, equally glittery, to Luke’s amusement, with only eyes for Luke.
“Sir,” a member of the Prince’s security detail barks at Din, “this is a private meeting.”
Din’s eyes snap to the bodyguard for a moment, frowning in confusion. He looks to Luke for help, and Luke rushes to explain.
“Sorry, this is my…” Luke trails off. Fiancé! His mind screams, sending goosebumps across his arms.
“Of course.” Prince William smoothly recovers for them all. “Mr. Djarin, we loved your surprise cameo on stage.”
Din follows Grogu through the room to Luke’s side, nodding carefully. His eyes are slightly panicked, the same look Luke’s seen a hundred times on Din’s face at parties with celebrities. Luke tries to stop him, but it’s too late to say something before Din holds out his hand and daps the future King of England up like he’s done to hundred other athletes and celebrities.
The whole room freezes, except for Prince George who giggles with glee.
Prince William coughs and grins at them both before saying, “Can we get a selfie?”
“Of course,” Luke says, turning to his assistant for his phone, but before he can, Din pulls out his ancient iPhone.
Luke laughs weakly before taking it from Din and opening the camera. He watches his face turn beet red from suppressed laughter when Grogu and Din lean in after Luke’s clicked a dozen or so pictures.
When he lowers the phone and hands it back to Din, Princess Charlotte touches his arm where Grogu’s friendship bracelet is still tight around Luke’s wrist.
“What does it say?” She asks, turning her head in curiosity to read it. “Marry…?”
“Oh!” Luke exclaims, self-consciously covering the bracelet with his hand. “Uh…”
The whole room grows silent as they all stare at each other. Luke can feel the exact moment everyone, from the young princess to the combined staff and security teams in the room, catches on, but his tongue is frozen to the roof of his mouth. He’s still fumbling to come up with anything to say when Prince William reaches a hand out to rest on Luke’s shoulder.
“No way, you’re getting married?” He says with a kind smile. “Congratulations.” He turns to look at Din. “That’s lovely.”
Barely restrained gasps come from Luke’s team behind him. Whispering immediately follow, and Luke grimaces back at the Prince.
“Well,” Din replies. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet.”
Luke blinks at Din. Hadn’t he? Luke struggles to remember all the details now. On stage in the moment, he’d been so surprised, so thrilled. He’d just reacted the way that felt right.
“Oh,” Luke repeats himself, suddenly very desperate not to be in this room anymore, still sweating from the show, hair frizzy from the London humidity, surrounded by people who should not be privy to this pivotal moment in his life.
Din gives him a half smile, probably thinking the same thing.
“Well, if you like, I could marry you right now,” Prince William jokes before making eyes at his staff, clearly ready to steer his children out of this awkward situation.
“Can you?” Din asks, frowning, still apparently confused who they are talking to. Luke buries his face into his hands.
“No,” he hears Prince William say before he makes his exit, staff and security in tow, “But what a story that would have made!”
Luke listens to the door open and close a few times, whispers and titters growing into howling laughter as everyone leaves the backstage room. When he finally peeks up from his hands, he sees that Grogu has made his way to the snack bar and left Din standing in front of Luke, eyes wide and vulnerable.
Luke lowers his hands, taking in the view of his favorite person, finally here, in front of him. Not on a phone a thousand miles away, but truly corporeal and real.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” Luke says, drifting closer, unable to keep himself even inches apart from Din any longer.
He wraps his arms under Din’s arms and rests his face on his chest, his favorite place to be, if he’s honest with himself, and breathes for a few moments.
“I couldn’t wait any longer,” Din finally says.
“I know. I’ve almost flown to KC so many times, even if all I got was a couple hours with you two.”
“Yes,” Din says, “but what I mean is… I– I couldn’t wait to ask you. I needed to ask you, Luke.”
Luke lifts his head to meet Din’s gaze and drinks in all the tremulous love pouring out of his eyes.
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” Luke says. “ Mind?!” He exclaims.
He grabs Din by the face to kiss him, finally, finally kiss him after weeks of being apart. His fingers rake up into his curls; he smiles against the scratch of his mustache. It’s like coming home, like breathing air into his lungs he hadn’t realized was missing.
Luke pulls back just long enough to say, “Yes, Din Djarin, I will marry you,” before capturing him in a kiss again.
“Are you sure?” Din pants between kisses. “We haven’t — been together — that long…”
“I’m sure.” Luke laughs, can’t help it; it comes bubbling up from somewhere deep and warm inside of him. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Eww,” comes a little voice behind them, and Luke laughs again, hanging his head to hide his face in Din’s chest again.
“I’m sorry, kid,” Din says above him, “but I’m in love. This is what love looks like.”
Grogu pushes between them, forcing their legs further apart so he can make room for himself. His curly head tilts back as he assesses them from between their bellies. After a moment of thinking, he sticks his arms straight up into the air in a clear demand to be held.
“No,” he corrects Din. He wraps his arms around both their necks and squeezes until they’re forced together, tight. Snug.
“ This is what love looks like,” Grogu says, closing his eyes and smiling.
____
“Green, ‘cause that’s my favorite color,” Grogu says, pointing to the bead on the outside, “and it matches the frogs.”
“Right.”
“And then, there’s blue ‘cause that’s your color eyes. And brown for daddy’s eyes!”
Luke smiles down at Grogu as his little fingers touch each bead along the bracelet that Luke hasn’t taken off his wrist since the kid placed it there six months ago. They’ve gone over the significance of each bead many times, but Luke never gets tired of hearing about it. He’s prompted Grogu’s explanation more than a dozen times. It’s his favorite conversation to have with his favorite child.
“And the pearl letter beads are for the new era!”
Luke chuckles as a breeze whips past them on the patio. It’s chilly even for an Italian winter, but he feels warm all over.
“Don’t forget that’s a secret Grogu,” Din says as he walks onto the balcony with a tray of mugs. He bends down to peck them both on the forehead as he hands them their hot chocolate.
“I know, I know,” Grogu mutters, instantly distracted by the warm treat in his hands.
“Not for long,” Luke sighs.
He instantly snuggles into Din’s body when he sits next to him on the couch and looks out towards the snow-capped Alps as they lapse into comfortable silence. The new album was months away from release, but for once Luke didn’t feel the pressure to produce it quickly weighing on him like the last few had. This one was more natural. Less like a painful exorcism of his heartbreak and more like an overflowing of his gratitude and contentment and…
Din leans heavily against him, his ratty Chief’s sweatshirt tickling the top of Luke’s neck. And this. This thing he’s been trying to capture in his songs, in each lyric. This man who wears his old sweats at Lake Como. Who goes barefoot in winter. Who refused a bachelor party because he’s an “old man with a kid” much to the protestation of his older brother.
Luke wraps his hand around Din’s thigh and squeezes. “Should we at least sleep separately tonight? It feels like we’re breaking some rules or something.”
Din frowns as he sips from his cup. Luke watches as he licks the chocolate from his mustache and immediately wants to rescind his suggestion.
“No,” Din thankfully responds, “why should we?”
Luke smiles to himself, but still shrugs. “Tradition? Superstition?”
Din only huffs in response and returns to his cup. Luke supposes that’s fair. Nothing about their relationship has been traditional. It never could have been. A gay popstar slides into an NFL player’s DM’s and sets the world on fire. But that’s always how Luke’s life has gone. It’s just now… the fire feels less out of control and more cozy.
After Grogu finishes his cup he clambers up onto the couch to settle onto Din’s lap, all the appearance of seeking a cuddle while keeping a mischievous eye on Din’s mug. Din folds almost immediately, of course, helpless to deny his son a single treat, and hands it over.
After a huge, satisfying gulp, Grogu turns big eyes toward Luke. “But what’s this Era gonna be called?”
Luke hums thoughtfully while offering Din the last of his hot chocolate. His fingers find the bracelet on his arm, as they often do these days when he’s thinking, running over each bead and remembering their meaning and significance.
“I was thinking…” he starts, looking from his small, sweet face to Din’s curious expression. Another whip of wind blows their dark curls awry, and they all huddle together out of instinct, seeking warmth from one another.
“I was thinking ‘ Dwell ,” he murmurs, looking down to the bracelet again.
“Dwell? Wha’s that mean?”
Din’s hands find Luke’s and encircle them in his warm grasp. His smile is so warm that Luke wants to get married right now in this moment, even though their vows are only hours away.
“It means you’ve found your home,” Din says. “And you’re ready to live in it.”