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“I’m ready now.”
Luke looks up from his holopad, surprised to see Din standing at the entrance of his tent, no sign of Grogu. It’s late, nearly dawn, and Luke has just finished sending the day’s reports over to Leia. He’d been hoping to get some shuteye before the evacuations begin in the morning.
“I thought we agreed everyone should rest before we get started,” Luke replies, rubbing a hand across his tired eyes. “Easier in the daylight.”
“No,” Din says, coming further into Luke’s tent. He stoops his helmet to fit, unwilling to sit, but unable to stand. “I mean the other thing.”
Luke raises an eyebrow. “What thing?”
“That we were talking about before. The mustache thing.”
Luke stares at him for a moment, waiting for his exhausted brain to catch up. The mustache thing... Din can’t be talking about their disastrous conversation from a year ago. Not now, not after months of fighting, and working together for the New Republic, and training Grogu. Not after Luke had spent those months carefully, slowly, painfully cauterizing the wound that had ripped opened and bled all over the floor in front of Din. He can’t open up all of that up now. Not again.
“Sorry,” Luke grinds his heel into his eye socket. He’s so tired. “I’m not following. You’re ready for… what exactly?”
“To be together,” Din replies, a tad impatiently, as though Luke is being thick for not realizing he’s continuing a conversation they started twelve standard months ago. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the closest thing Luke’s observed from him as fidgeting. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
A laugh erupts from Luke, and it comes out ugly. Angry, even. It burns like stomach bile on the way up. He grits his teeth.
“Changed my mind? It wasn’t exactly an impulsive whim. My kriffin’ heart has ‘Din Djarin’ carved all over it.”
Din seems stunned for a moment, pausing before coming to sit next to Luke on the floor of the tent.
“Good,” he replies.
Luke glares at him. “So you changed your mind, then.”
Din cocks his head, sending his helmet to the side in that endearing way that makes Luke’s bones ache. “I needed time to think. I haven’t been in love before.”
Luke’s face gets hot. He averts his eyes and grips his holopad hard enough to make it creak in protest.
“So, what do you want to do?” He asks his fingers, suddenly cowardly.
Din shrugs. “Be together.”
“Ye-es… but what does that mean to you?”
“Oh,” Din says. “I’ll have to think about it.”
–
“I want to spend time with you,” he says during the evacuations the next day.
Luke is mid-conversation with a New Republic Commander, trying to account for a missing ship. He only caught half of what Din said and asks him to repeat it in front of the Commander. Din does so, unabashedly, which for some reason makes Luke want to corral Din against a wall somewhere. Instead, he stalks away, heart thumping, searching for Artoo.
Din follows.
“We already do, a fair amount,” Luke finally answers once Artoo is scanning for the missing ship. “Practically all day, every day, for the last two standard years.”
“Not at night,” is Din’s quick reply.
Luke looks at him sharply. “You want to be with me at night? Like what… sleep in my tent?”
“Well,” Din crosses his arms. His biceps bulge out over his fists. Luke thinks about that wall again. “When our watch shifts coordinate. Yes.”
Luke stares at him. Then says, because he can’t think of any reason to say no, “Okay…?”
Din straightens. “Tonight?”
“Okay.”
Din nods, seemingly pleased, and walks away.
–
Din is waiting for Luke by the entrance of his tent, Grogu asleep under a blanket in his lap. He stops to stand in front of Din, unable to keep the smile from his face.
“Ready?” Din asks, standing with little Grogu bundled in his arms.
Luke laughs, but waves away Din’s questions. They awkwardly shuffle into the tent, armor and child and outer clothing fighting for a place in the small space before settling onto their respective field packs and going quiet.
Luke tries to sleep, but Din’s unrelenting gaze is a torture he’s all too familiar with.
“Why are you watching me?” He whispers, eyes closed.
Din shuffles slightly, perhaps embarrassed to be caught out.
“Oh,” he says. “Because I like to look at you. And I’ve never seen you sleep before.”
Luke turns onto his side, eyebrow quirking up as he looks into Din’s visor. “We’ve been camped on this planet for almost a year. You’ve seen me sleep.”
“But not in this context.”
Luke sighs. “What’s so interesting?”
“Your scars.”
Luke jumps in surprise. Well, he supposes that’s fair. It’s not often he’s around anyone shirtless, especially Din, who Luke has yet to see an inch of skin, beyond… that first day they met. And they are strange scars. Still, Luke feels a bit embarrassed. It’s not a pretty sight.
He holds out his left arm to Din, offering him a chance to observe them more closely, since he’s barely containing his interest in doing so. Luke tries not to quake when Din removes his gloves to touch Luke. He’s probably interested in the texture of the raised skin, branching like tree roots in every direction. Din’s a detective, in a way. But that doesn't make it any less affecting when Din’s bare fingers brush up the inside of his forearm, elbow to wrist.
“Who?” is all Din asks, but Luke catches the edge of his private anger through the Force.
“Palpatine,” Luke answers simply in return.
“So Solo was telling the truth.”
Luke nods. “Does it bother you?”
Din’s hand goes tight around Luke’s wrist when he looks into Luke’s face. “Scars are signs of devotion to one’s tribe.”
Luke’s heart is beating so fast, he’s sure that Din can perceive it in his pulse. “Can I touch you?”
“Where?”
“Wherever you like…. Wherever you’re comfortable.”
Din thinks for a moment, before linking their fingers together, bare palms clasped together.
“This is nice,” he says.
Luke would agree aloud if his heart wasn’t in his throat. Carefully, he rubs his thumb along Din’s knuckles, skin catching on a scratch on the third one, before sweeping down across the back of his hand. Din stills, suddenly laser focused, like Luke’s smallest move is paramount.
Their breathing is so loud in the small space of the tent.
Grogu snuffles in his sleep, and Din startles, like he forgot where he was. Luke releases his hand, and falls onto his back, looking up at the dark edges of the top of the tent.
–
The apartment they give him in the Republic City is small and minimalist, but it does have a larger bed than he’s used to. When they’d arrived on Hosnian Prime, he’d barely noticed it, too busy with reports and wrapping up their years-long project. But then Din and Grogu arrived.
The bed encourages Din to take off his boots. Then his pauldrons, one and the other, and his chest and back plates. They’re all carefully removed and arranged on the bedroom’s lone dresser. Luke finds himself staring at the pieces for far too long, tunic in his hand, unable to think of much else.
When they all lie down together, ready to sleep, and Din reaches across the bed to link their fingers, Luke finds he can’t bear the space between them all anymore. Not when that all seemed like an invitation.
“Okay?” Luke asks as he shuffles back along the sheets until he feels Din’s chest against his back.
At Din’s affirmative grunt, he encourages Din’s arm to curl around his middle and lays his hand over Din’s, linking their fingers and snuggling in tightly. Din doesn’t say anything, doesn’t breathe for a moment. But Grogu quickly clambers over Din and Luke’s shoulders to cuddle into the same spot against Luke’s chest that he once slept in all those years ago on Ossus. At the sound of Grogu’s happy sigh, Din seems to relax, slowly curling closer, knees pulling in behind Luke’s.
“Yes,” he agrees as he settles in.
Eventually, he goes practically boneless, half asleep until Luke brings their entwined fingers to his lips. Then, his even breath catches in his throat, and Luke could swear he feels the pick up of his heart rate against his back.
Luke can’t help the smile that curls against Din’s knuckles.
—
The first night he shows up to Luke’s apartment without Grogu, Luke still hasn’t figured out his strategy. His brain power is being zapped by every boring New Republic meeting that he has to sit through. They end up sitting on the bed facing each other, down to their usual sleep layers, waiting for the other to make a move.
Luke tilts his head to the side, assessing Din’s posture. As usual, his outward confidence and surety seems to be covering for some inward turmoil that Luke can barely sense through the Force. He picks at the coverlet of the bed for a moment before shuffling forward and placing both of his hands on Din’s shoulders.
Din doesn’t object and eventually lifts his hands to loosely grip Luke’s forearms, seemingly comfortable. But when Luke sweeps his thumbs up along his neck, gently caressing his skin there, he tenses, shifting his hips backward.
One quick glance down encourages Luke, but Din seems to want to ignore it.
“What do you like?” Luke begins, trying to keep the eagerness from his tone.
“You,” Din says without hesitancy.
Luke licks his lips at the sudden rush that runs through him at Din’s words. “Anything in particular?”
“Your…” Din shifts again. Clears his throat. “Hands, arms, waist, chin, hair, calves, ass, neck…” His hands tighten around Luke’s arms as his voice fades.
Luke blinks. “Would you like to see those things? Up close?”
When Din exhales, Luke can hear that it’s shaky. He nods.
Luke strips down to his underwear quickly, unashamed of how hard he clearly is, before jumping back onto the bed. He scoots as close to Din as possible without climbing into his lap, which… sounds good too. But. He can tell he’s dealing with a spooked cellwan at this point. At least Din has stopped trying to hide his erection.
“Do you want me to help with that?” Luke asks, boldly putting his hand on Din’s thigh.
Din doesn’t reply, just sits, frozen in indecision, clearly desirous, but hesitant. Luke licks his lips again. Maybe he’s never been with a man before. He might have other preferences or desires that he’s afraid would insult Luke. Or maybe he’s changed his mind. Decided that he does prefer Luke as a platonic friend after all.
He sits back on his heels, shame and disappointment threatening to clog up his throat, but Din stops him, gripping his hand, hard.
“I’m sorry. I don’t… do this,” he chokes out.
“Oh. With men or?”
“With anyone. Ever.”
Luke frowns down at his hands. “Huh.”
“I just… never got into the habit. I was too busy.”
Luke nods, trying to push all his feelings into a box before he looks up at Din’s helmet again.
“Even… when I was younger, and it started. I just pretended they didn’t happen. Focused on my studies and training.”
Luke glances up at that, surprised. “You mean… you don’t even…?” His lude gesture around his waist seems to fluster Din further, but he manages a tight nod.
Luke’s mouth pops open. “But… what about the unexpected ones?”
“I just sort of ignore them. I’ve tried, but.” He shrugs.
Luke leans his fist on his cheek, fascinated. It explains a lot, actually. How much could you even get up to a society that prioritized devotion to the tribe and ancient ways over personal satisfaction? The Jedi Order had similar rules and restrictions. Growing up in that would impact anyone when it came to that side of things.
There are plenty of people who don’t feel the need; Luke knows that. He’s ready to respect that about Din if that’s what’s happening here. But something about the way that Din stares makes him think Din is simply belatedly discovering things about himself.
“What do you like?” Din asks quietly, releasing Luke’s hand and settling it on his thigh in a parallel gesture to Luke’s earlier one.
Luke lifts his head from his fist, heart suddenly raising. “Do you… want me to show you?”
“Please,” Din says, leaning closer, close enough that Luke could kiss his helmet if he dared.
Luke breathes, trying to compose himself. Maybe this is just how it will be between them. At least until Din figures out what he wants.
Luke lies back on the bed, fully in view of Din, and reaches into his shorts. He grips himself, tugging upward slowly, making a show of it. Din’s laser focus, his undivided attention, has always been intoxicating to Luke. In this context… he can already feel his balls tightening up.
“I like,” Luke begins, “big hands. Strong. The kind that look steady firing a blaster.”
He peeks over at Din’s visor, wishing he could fully access him through the Force, just to understand what he was thinking. He tugs himself faster, enough that the hem of his shorts reveals the tip of his cock before disappearing into the ring of his fist.
“Um… and if I want to get off quickly,” he continues, “I always think about being held from behind. Held still. And,” his heart rate picks up, and a rush of liquid lust runs through him from head to toe, “their lips on my neck as they touch me. And… the burn of their facial hair. That really does it for me usually, and…”
He closes his eyes, wishing desperately that Din would just pull down his pants and come up behind Luke and fulfill the fantasy. Nestle his fat cock between Luke’s thighs and fuck into him desperately, scraping his neck with his teeth. Just the idea of Din wanting that sends him over the edge with a deep groan. He throws his head back and bites his lower lip as come runs over his fingers, wetting the edge of his underwear.
“Yeah,” he pants as the last of it squirts out.
He opens his eyes to find Din sitting stock still, clearly in shock. Disgusted? Turned on? Confused? Luke isn’t sure; the small insight he has to Din’s feelings are muddled. But before he can panic that this was a bad idea, Din has gotten off the bed and escaped into the refresher.
Luke stares at the ceiling and sighs.
—
Din and Grogu are gone before Luke can talk to him about it. There’s an explanation about favors owed on Tatooine left on his comlink, and maybe Luke senses that he’ll miss him, but it’s very succinct and simple. Very Din.
Sleeping alone is suddenly cold and suffocatingly quiet. Reminiscent of his early days in the Rebellion. He misses the warmer climate of Ossus, but Leia still needs him here.
So he waits and pretends he’s fine, and ignores Leia’s questioning looks. He checks his comlink far too often. He meditates for hours.
And then one day, halfway down a hallway, the Force warns him he’s about to be attacked. He’s pushed into a maintenance closet, hand tight around his lightsaber before he realizes it’s Din, before he realizes the door is closing, before he realizes he’s being hugged, tight. His throat gets thick for a moment when he hears the sigh of relief that Din releases when they’re fully in each other’s arms.
“Hello,” Luke says, smiling against the Beskar pressed to his cheekbone.
“ Mmm ,” Din hums above him, buzzing with an energy Luke’s never felt from him.
A gloved hand finds its way to Luke’s hair while the other travels low, sending sparks of heat in its wake.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Din says, before his hand fully holds Luke’s ass and squeezes, pulling them even tighter together.
“Me too,” Luke drools into Din’s cape.
“No, I mean while I…”
Din presses his hips into Luke’s meaningfully, grinding forward helplessly when the friction is too enticing.
Luke chokes on his spit, frottage stealing his train of thought. Then, the sound of a droid in the hallway spooks them, and they break apart. The droid keeps rolling, thankfully, but the separation gives Luke space to think.
“Where’s Grogu?”
“With friends for the night.”
Luke blinks. “Oh. Right. Okay, then… my room?”
Luke is jealous of Din’s helmet as they navigate through the halls of the Senate to his speeder, if only for the ability to hide the heat in his cheeks. He pulls his hood lower over his face when Din takes the wheel, maneuvering through the traffic with more urgency than Luke was expecting.
He’s grateful for it when they’re quickly in bed together, armor, capes, and most clothing thrown off in a hurry, and Luke can finally, finally put his mouth on the exposed skin of Din’s neck. Din groans in a novel way, hands skittering across the skin of Luke’s lower back.
“Tell me what you were thinking about,” Luke says before pulling down Din’s undershirt to tongue along his clavicle.
Din’s chest heaves. “Can I show you?”
Luke lifts his head to grin and nod enthusiastically. Din gently arranges Luke on his side facing away from him, before settling behind him as usual. But this time, his hands rove, drifting greedily from Luke’s pecs down his belly and across his hips, requesting permission at the waistband of his shorts. Luke doesn’t hesitate to yank them down and kick them off, finally fully naked in bed with the man he loves, heart thrumming, cock achingly hard.
Din wraps his fingers around it and pulls. It’s inelegant and overly tight, but Luke couldn’t give a flying kriff. He melts backward, torn between wanting to watch his cock disappear into Din’s fist and longing to rest his head into the crook of Din’s neck. Din’s rhythm is maddeningly steady, and Luke can’t help rocking his hips, meeting Din’s every upward tug.
On one descent, he feels Din press his hard cock against his ass, and Luke slows his hips. He stops Din’s hand and takes a breath.
“Din,” he pants, “can we…?” He gropes blindly backward for Din’s belt, tugging it slightly when he finds it.
Din lets out a weak “ yeah ,” before undoing his pants behind Luke. Luke glances over his shoulder, unable to resist the sight of Din’s thick cock bouncing forward, nicely nestled beneath dark curls. A fat bead of precome drips off the edge of the head, and Luke’s mouth actually waters.
But Din shuffles back into position, determined to take Luke in hand. When his hips meet Luke’s ass, he seems unsure how to fit, so Luke lifts his leg, making room for Din’s cock between his thighs. Immediately, Din’s hips stutter forward. His grip on Luke tightens and a guttural, almost confused moan bursts out of his lips. Something dangerously possessive curls around the memory of that sound in Luke’s heart.
He begins to move again, trying to keep in tandem with Din’s rhythm. He’s overwhelmed by the feeling of a hand intelligently interpreting responses to its various squeezes and tugs, while a hot cock thrusts between his legs from behind.
It’s such a good recreation of the fantasy he’d admitted to a few weeks ago, that Luke is close within a few minutes. He wouldn’t have needed the sound of Din’s helmet being pulled off, or the thrill of the bristles of Din’s facial hair dragged across the back of his neck, but it does send him catapulting over the finish in record time.
He lets out an ugly gasp, clamps his thighs down hard on Din’s cock and comes hot and thick across Din’s perfect hands. He’s barely recovered when he discovers his thighs are sticky, and Din is panting behind him, his hot breath tickling the spot of Luke’s skin that his mustache had burned.
“ Dank farrick.”
—
Outwardly, Din doesn’t change. Ever the professional, he hardly acknowledges Luke’s presence when he enters a room. Beyond the occasional handshake hello and transfer of Grogu from Din to Luke’s arms, they don’t touch. But Luke can feel Din’s desire follow him when he walks away. It feels like a secret caress, a dam filling in Din’s mind, ready to break the second they’re alone.
They find all sorts of moments to disappear together, into each other's rooms, or empty closets when Din’s staring becomes too heated for Luke to ignore anymore.
They use hands and Luke’s exposed thighs, always with Din behind so he can lift up his helmet enough to press rough kisses to Luke’s neck. Eventually, Luke can’t resist anymore and gets on his knees, citing cleanliness as an excuse to wrap his mouth around Din’s cock and suck him to the root. Din’s immediately weak knees and sudden release is incredibly flattering. And his resulting shock gives Luke time to kiss and lick all over Din’s exposed hips and upper thighs.
Eventually, their change in dynamic is hard to hide from those who care to notice. Leia stares at him in surprise at first, and then concern, and then annoyance when he starts to become distracted in important meetings.
“What are you doing with that Mandalorian?” She finally asks aloud when her concerned questions through the Force go unanswered.
“Do you want me to be specific?” He snaps, hoping to dissuade.
But Leia stands her ground. “The mission’s over. Why haven’t they gone home? Surely they have other business.”
And Luke grits his teeth. “Yes, alright. We’re working it out.”
“What’s left to decide?”
But Luke isn’t brave enough to admit: Everything.
—
Leia had teased Luke once that he never knew when he was in love because he fell in love with everyone he met. Luke hadn’t corrected her at the time because the truth was much worse.
He’s never let an infatuation get out of hand. Sexual attraction and compassionate care — these were safe places. And he did feel them often, for many. He acted on them, carefully.
But he’s already loved and lost enough.
The Jedi Order’s philosophies about attachments were clever in that way. The fear of loss is a powerful temptation towards hopelessness. Towards reckless selfishness. But the Order had the benefit of each other to bar any loneliness. Luke is the last Jedi.
For a moment, he hadn’t been. With Grogu, he'd had a chance. His first student, an unbelievable, special child with more wisdom and understanding of the Force than Luke could fathom.
And that had been the beginning of the problem. The first compromise. Somehow, by allowing Grogu to occupy a special place in his heart, he’d let Din in too. He felt a strong kinship with the Mandalorian — a passing of the torch of his time with Grogu. Nothing could have prepared him for how well Din fit. How well they worked together months later, blaster and lightsaber, instantly a team for the New Republic. How easily Din could make Luke laugh without even trying. The surge of joy that Grogu would send him through the Force whenever they were together.
And all of a sudden, it wasn’t a good day until he’d spoken to Din. His blood rushed whenever Din did anything near him. He gorged himself on Din’s attention, even the professional, distant kind that he most often bestowed Luke.
But then. Then Din laughed. Chuckled low at something Luke said. Close enough that Luke felt the rumble of it against his shoulder. And if they hadn’t been sitting around a campfire surrounded by a dozen soldiers he probably would’ve gotten down on his knees right there.
But he was spared the humiliation of that rejection. Instead, he’d stumbled into something more painful, filled with too much hope as Din leaned into their friendship. He accepted Luke’s teasing, allowed play pushes and slaps on the back. He even let Luke hug him once. Memorable to Luke for all the wrong reasons.
So Luke had gotten loose after a successful mission, not bothering to hide an inch of his regard. He’d spent the whole celebration by Din’s side, animated and billowed up by some fantasy of their future partnership. And when the night had wound down to brandy and firelight, he’d completely forgotten himself.
“There must be someone ,” he’d teased, probing, desperate.
Grogu had been asleep for an hour, snuggled into the warmth of his pack. There was no one left to be privy to Luke’s embarrassment. To see how the tips of his boots gently prodded Din’s.
“No,” Din had shrugged. “There’s never been.”
“ Never?” Luke boggled, half-joking. His heart was beating so hard already he was having trouble breathing steadily.
Din had sighed. “There’s been plenty of offers. One or two attempts. But it’s not for me.”
The part of him that had been thrilled Din would even talk about this had wilted into confused disappointment. Still, his tongue wouldn’t stop.
“No one appealed? Maybe they just weren’t your type.”
Din had stared at him. “Type?”
“Like, they didn’t tick the right boxes. For me it’s… male, broad, m-mustaches…” Luke had felt his face heating as his brain caught up with him finally.
A wisp of a realization from Din was palpable in the Force, and Luke opened his mouth to stop whatever he’d just set into motion, but then Din said:
“I have a mustache.”
Luke couldn’t seem to speak. His face grew increasingly hot, and his throat was thick. He'd just barely managed to nod, tight and fast. Luke was so tuned into the Force that it stung when Din didn’t react at all.
“Hmm,” is all he vocalized, looking away from Luke and into the fire in front of them.
And Luke panicked, the entirety of their relationship seeming to ebb away from him like waves returning to some vast ocean he’d never even gotten the chance to admire. He floundered to think of something, anything to reverse the conversation. Wasn’t he a Jedi Master? Shouldn’t some wisdom pour forth in moments like this? If anything the code of the Jedi should have saved him. But instead he heard desperate words escape his mouth without this permission.
“It’s just that I—” he’d started and stopped, cringing away from the body posture that had him curled up into Din’s space. “It could work, if you were into… it.”
And again, Din didn’t react. There was no embarrassment, no pity. That might’ve helped Luke escape this disastrous conversation. Instead Din was politely quiet in a gracious attempt to spare Luke’s feelings.
And Luke had felt sick.
“Sorry,” he’d mumbled, stumbling up to his feet. He’d careened forward for half a second, lightheaded from the drinking or fatigue or embarrassment and needing to support himself on Din’s pauldron. “Shit! Sorry.”
“For what?” Din said, shrugging softly, giving Luke an out. Already acting like Luke’s lack of judgment hadn’t happened.
Luke had choked on a strangled laugh, pushing his hair out of his face. There’s been plenty of offers. But it’s not for me. Why had Luke thought he’d be the exception? Poor Din.
“For uh,” Luke had sniffed and looked toward his tent, ready to make a hasty retreat, “falling in love with you like all the other idiots before me.” He’d taken a step backward. “I’ll just… yeah. We can just keep going. Let’s just leave it.”
The last thing he remembers, before he’d pivoted on his heel and escaped to his tent, was the way Din’s fingers curled into fists at his sides.
—
The friends Din had mentioned were Bo-Katan and a cohort of polished Mandalorian politicians, who were apparently surprised to find Din and Grogu in Republic City. Annoyed too, if Luke is interpreting things right.
“What does she want from you?” Luke asks Din while avoiding his urgent fingers’ attempt to undo his belt.
Din huffs, unused to being rebuffed. “What she wants from every Mandalorian. But I’ve done my bit. Still am.”
“You report to her?”
“She’s the Mand’alor . We all do.”
“So if she needs you…”
“I go.”
“And what if I need you?”
Din pauses, hands still looped into Luke’s belt.
“Will you need me?” He asks, helmet tilted. “At your school?”
Luke clears his throat and leans away. “I thought… we’d go there. Eventually.”
“Oh.”
Luke bites the inside of his cheek as he looks at Din’s chest plate. He’s always wondered what the symbol in the middle meant. Grogu wears Din’s Mudhorn signet. Did that mean something beyond an apprentice and teacher? Why hasn’t he ever asked these questions before?
“I have a house,” Din suddenly says. “Did I tell you? On Nevarro. A cottage.”
Luke looks up at his visor. “No. You didn’t tell me.”
Din sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Just like he had that day he’d told Luke he was ready. For what, Din? Apparently, he still hasn’t thought that through completely.
“What are we talking about?” Din asks.
Luke shrugs. “The ‘where’, I think. And I guess the ‘when’ too.”
“When.”
“Yes,” Luke sighs. “ When is your next job?”
Din stares at him. “ When are you returning to Ossus?”
And that was the key question, wasn’t it? He joined Din’s mission two years ago eager to help, and if he was honest with himself, to spend more time with Grogu. But ever since he’d revealed his willingness to lend aid, the New Republic was less eager to let him slip back away to Ossus. Especially with no students waiting for him there. He understands, of course. The New Republic is technically funding his efforts. But the politics of accepting their help has become increasingly burdensome. And now… now he’s never wanted to return home more.
Before he can reply, his comlink chimes. Din sighs and steps away, allowing Luke to answer. Luke watches Din sit and put his boots back on as he confirms his attendance at yet another meeting.
The impulse to fall to his knees in between Din’s as an apology fades as he stands and walks out of Luke’s room without another word.
—
When Grogu had introduced each of Bo-Katan’s advisors, he’d had a reverent tone for The Armorer. Their religious leader, as far as Luke could ascertain. But he hadn’t realized how close she was to Grogu until Luke had come to collect him for his daily meditation and found her in his and Din’s apartment.
“I wanted to meet Din Djarin’s riddur, ” she explains. “I’ll need your measurements.”
Luke blinks. “For what?”
She assesses him for a moment, searching him for something, though Luke can’t fathom what. He just knows he doesn’t want to be found wanting.
“It’s unusual for a Mandalorian of his rank to have an unarmored spouse. But there is precedent. There was a time when some of our people put aside their armor while still wearing their clan signet. My mother was one such.”
Luke gapes at her, heart beat thrumming in his neck. He tries to clear his throat and nearly chokes on its dryness.
“He—” Luke coughs. “He told you we were married?”
The Armorer’s unnerving stares remind Luke of Din. So much that he’d almost say there was a family resemblance.
“Was it secret?” She asks. “He defended you to our counsel. I know for the Jedi Order such things are forbidden.”
Grogu coos with interest, and sends a concerned question into the Force. Luke goes to pick him up, reassuring him with both a physical and mental embrace.
“The Order is gone,” he says.
“He says you mean to start a new Jedi school.”
Luke nods, slowly. “I am… trying. But I need pupils.”
“And he will aid you in this?”
Luke looks at her golden helmet, feeling the steadiness of her gaze. Is it accusatory? Simply curious? Does she disapprove of him or understand? The beskar obscures her feelings to him, but there’s definitely something he can sense. Something cautiously hopeful.
“I know his duty to your people is his priority.”
She nods again, then stands to adjust the rondel that Grogu wears around his neck before stepping away toward the door.
“What I know, Master Jedi, is he was chosen for his position because he has a unique talent for finding people. He found the child. And then you. Seems a good match.”
Grogu coos happily in agreement as she leaves, sending a flurry of mental images through the Force toward Luke too quickly for him to fully take in. But they are all drenched in happiness. Years of memories of the three of them, side by side.
Luke turns on his heel, heading out of the apartment. He needs to find Din.
—
They find him under his N1 in a small hangar, adjusting the hydraulic pressurizer at Artoo’s instruction. The droid whistles happily at their approach, and Din slides out on his back, wiping a grease rag across his gloves.
He sits up and tilts his helmet quizzically. “Thought you were in meditation,” he says.
Luke’s tongue seems to have lost its ability to move. It sticks to the roof of his mouth, paralyzed. He watches Din stretch his arms above his head, and crack his back, before getting up to return his tools to the mechanics bench. He mumbles something to Artoo before patting his dome approvingly.
Grogu wriggles from Luke’s grasp to speak to the droid, and Artoo jumps with joy to see his favorite person. He rolls away, initiating a game of chase, much to Grogu’s delight. Din comes to Luke’s side to watch, huffing a laugh.
“Are you okay?” Din finally asks after a stretch out moment of silence, glancing at Luke.
Luke’s tongue unsticks from the roof of his mouth, only to blurt out, “You told your priestess I was your husband.”
Din stills, staring at Luke’s profile, but Luke can’t seem to turn and look back at him.
“You technically qualify.”
“Technically?”
Din leans all his weight onto one foot, shifting infinitesimally towards Luke as he sighs and looks back to Grogu.
“You’ve seen my face,” he explains. “We’ve… been enjoying our honeymoon.”
Luke sputters, glancing over at the impossible man next to him. Every centimeter of him is endearing to Luke from the sharp jut of his helmet’s visor to the vibroknife in his boot.
“Right.”
When Din returns his gaze, Luke can feel how much effort the next words take.
“The only thing missing is the vows.”
Luke swallows, thickly. “Vows?”
“Yes. And there’s my clan signet that you can wear. I don’t know if she mentioned it. When you’re ready.”
Luke’s vision goes cloudy. Din’s helmet turns into a blurry smear of silver before Luke grinds the back of his knuckles against his eyelids. In the quiet privacy of the hanger, Din gathers him into his arms and holds him tightly. Luke gasps around the thickness in his throat and squeezes back, burying his face into the thick cushion of Din’s cape. Then Din lifts his arms, and Luke hears the soft release of his helmet unclasp.
Din’s face is wet; his eyes are rimmed red. Luke wants to hold him still and stare his fill, but he doesn’t get the chance. They’re kissing, a chaste, hard press of chapped lips and rough facial hair. Luke heaves a breath before kissing Din again, coaxing his lips to part with a swipe of his thumb at the corner of his mouth. They fall into the chastest kiss Luke has ever had, yet it feels more intimate than anything else they’ve ever done.
“I’ll need help finding students,” he says when they break apart.
Din nods. “We’re going to have to buy a bigger ship.”
Luke laughs, but it sounds like a hiccup or maybe half a sob. He doesn’t care. He just wants to kiss Din again.
“Din? I’m ready now. For the signet and the vows and the everything.”
“Oh good,” Din laughs, and this time, Luke gets to see the way it makes his eyes brighten.
“Finally.”