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Luke Skywalker looks like a boy trying to be a man.
Said man has been pouting throughout the entire meeting, arms crossed over his t-shirt in the perfect image of displeasure. It’s no skin off Din’s back. He’s protected people that wanted nothing to do with him many times. At the end of the day it’s about getting paid, and Luke’s father is the one footing the bill. His father, who is currently seated across the desk, ignoring his son’s glaring. In fact, Din’s pretty sure he hasn’t smiled since he arrived in Din’s office. Neither has Din, though.
“To summarize.” Din says. “I will serve as your son’s bodyguard and driver. I will remain on site during the day, and escort him wherever he goes. During the night, should he need anything, he can call the number on the card,” Din points to the card he’s laid on the table, with the symbol of the Mando company on it. “Someone will be available to take him where he wants to go. One of my men will also be onsite overnight, on a rotational shift. We’ll continue week to week.”
“Sounds agreeable,” Anakin says.
“You’ll be my bodyguard?” Luke asks, looking at Din for perhaps the first time. “I thought you owned the company.”
“You asked for the best. I’m the best.” At least since Fett said no. He started laughing when Din asked if he’d be willing to do a half-day, full-week babysitting job, and is probably still laughing at him now from his office next door.
“Very well,” Anakin says. “We’ll start tomorrow. How does that sound, Luke?”
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Luke says with bite.
“No. I’ll leave you to discuss your schedule,” Anakin says. “Call me if there's a problem with the payment.”
Anakin... swoops. From the room. There’s no other way to say it. Din raises his eyebrows as the tail of his coat only just makes it past the closing door. He turns back to the sandy haired man, who looks nonplussed by his father’s dramatic departure.
“Well Mister... Djarin? Am I pronouncing that right?” Luke gives a hesitant smile, dropping his arms and losing the pout. It makes him actually look like the twenty-eight year old Din’s been assigned to protect.
“Yes.”
“Great. I, uh, wrote down a schedule of what I usually do and where I go.” He digs into his pocket, then passes over a torn out sheet of notebook paper with a hastily drawn calendar on it.
Luke licks his lips, then leans forward, conspiratorially. “Look...” Luke says, smiling invitingly. Years of experience as a Mando means that Din can sense what’s coming. “Is there any way I could convince you to, say, occasionally, drop me off some places? You know, without you... hovering around? For like, a half hour. Tops.”
“No.”
Luke nods, pursing his lips. “Figures. Had to try, right?”
Din tilts his head.
Luke bounds to his feet. Din looks up at him a moment, then rises as well.
“I guess we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well, Mr. Djarin,” Luke grins. “Should be fun!”
Din doesn’t say anything.
“Fuck my life,” Luke mutters. He turns and leaves the room in almost the same manner as his father, his coat a matching black.
Din turns to the schedule he left behind. Morning yoga in the garden. Afternoon tea at 3:15 sharp. Video call with... mother?
Christ. Din definitely can hear Fett laughing through the wall.
The Skywalker home is a small mansion perched on the cliffs of southern La Jolla, across the street from less impressive homes that couldn’t afford the view. It has the same white-cube thing going on that mansion owners seem to love, and is pointedly one story taller than all the houses in the ritzy neighborhood. The home is built like a staircase, each floor with its own balcony, and is surrounded on all sides by six foot solid fencing.
Din pulls his SUV into the driveway, parking outside the closed garage. Walking to the front door, he’s greeted by a stony faced Anakin, who leads him inside without a word.
They enter on the second floor, and Din immediately catalogs it as a security nightmare. The architect seems to have abhorred the idea of walls, putting in as few in as were structurally needed. So not only was the place an open floor plan, the entire back wall of the house was missing, so that the backyard bled into the house seamlessly.
Anakin leads him down the steps to the first floor, which at least has all four of the outside walls in place, though one of them is made purely of glass. Down here is a couch and a television, a small kitchen, and a table that Luke is currently sitting on, barefoot. He jumps down when they enter.
“Mr. Djarin! Good to see you!” Luke greets with a smile.
Din doubts that, but nods all the same. He hopes he doesn’t have to worry about Luke trying to skirt his protection like some others have. He’s not above tackling his own charges.
“You know the rules, son,” Anakin says to him. “I’m just up in San Francisco. If you need anything, hear anything, just call. Be safe, Luke,” Anakin says, and to Din’s mild surprise, wraps his son in a hug. Luke hugs back, squeezing tightly around his shoulders.
“You too, Dad.”
“I mean it,” Anakin warns, pulling back. “This is serious. But it’s also temporary.”
“Got it,” Luke says, slightly exasperated.
Anakin gives Din one last look, then swoops out of the room, leaving Din and Luke to themselves.
“So. Yoga?” Din asks. It’s the first thing on the schedule.
“I actually did my session earlier,” Luke says with a sheepish smile. “Didn’t want to bore you to death, but, if you wanted, the game’s starting soon?”
Din blinks. “Game?” It’s eight AM, who’s playing anything? “I should be--”
“Soccer,” Luke smiles boyishly. “Just some stuff from across the pond and all that. I used to play, too! I was pretty good in my heyday.”
Din looks around uncertainly. He’s used to his charges running away from him, not trying to talk to him. “I don’t watch soccer,” Din says dumbly.
“It’s not too hard to follow, come on,” Luke says invitingly. “Just for a bit, I’ll grab you something to drink.”
Luke goes to the kitchen. Before Din can come to a decision about whether or not to flee, Luke’s returned, two bottles of soda in hand.
“Come on, sit down. Stay a while.” Luke cajoles, gesturing towards the massive white couch. He sits down, places one of the soda bottles on the other side of the coffee table, for Din.
So Din starts his new job sitting stiffly on the couch, watching sports. Luke tries to chat with him at first, but Din’s one word responses put him off, fast. Despite that, Luke seems to be content with having someone to watch the game with. He has an ankle crossed over his knee, bare foot bouncing in the air. He grows invested in the game, muttering under his breath and making annoyed noises at bad calls from the referee.
A few minutes in, Din realizes if he’s stuck here, he might as well get comfortable. He pops the top on his soda and takes a sip. It’s surprisingly good.
He looks over the label with interest. “What is this?”
“Hm?” Luke asks. It takes a second for him to pull his eyes off the screen, but when he does, he gives Din his full attention. “Oh! It’s mandarin orange soda. Bottled without preservatives and made with only whole trade ingredients.”
“It actually tastes like oranges.” Not like whatever the hell orange soda had going on.
“Right? I love this stuff. Feel free to take any you like, in fact, anything from the fridge. What’s mine is yours.”
“Thanks.” Din takes another sip.
They turn back to the game. At one point the blue jerseys kick the ball in the goal, and Luke lets out an impressive string of swears.
“I take it your team is not the blue team,” Din says.
Luke snorts. “Nope. But I can dream.”
Ten more minutes past, then the game goes to halftime. Din can’t lie: he finds this boring as hell.
“So,” Din says. If he’s here, he might as well get some information. “Why did your Dad actually hire me?” It’s not everyday a father convinces his fully grown son to go on lockdown.
“Oh, well, I’m sure you’ve seen the news,” Luke says with a sigh.
Din. Hasn’t. “Not very recently.”
“Well... I sorta have a bit of a stalker.”
“A stalker calls for all this?”
Luke leans in, tapping the brim of the bottle against his mouth. “In her last letter, she told me that she ‘wants to become impregnated by me, then sacrifice me during the birthing process, as the world wouldn’t be able to comprehend two beings of such perfection existing at once.’”
Din must be making a horrified expression, because Luke bursts into laughter.
“Add that to several ‘gifts’ she's dropped off to my apartment, my father decided to corral me into one of his houses,” Luke says, gesturing offhandedly with the bottle.
“Gifts?”
“A lock of my own hair,” Luke says, counting them off on his own fingers. “A replica of the blanket I had as a baby... Um. Her teeth?”
“Her... Fuck.” Din shakes his head. “So they can at least ID her?”
“Yeah,” Luke says. “The police know who she is. But I guess her last threat was more serious. The news has also picked up the story, and Leia says it’s taking away the limelight from my mother’s reelection campaign, though I personally think it’s just adding more interest to it, any news is good news, right? Anyway, my father has put me in ‘rich people prison’ while the police investigate.”
Din looks around the all white living room, over to the industrial all-white kitchen, the spiral, you-guessed-it white staircase that leads to three bedrooms and a bonus room, all with views of the Pacific ocean. This place is six thousand square feet. Din knows, it was on the blueprints from the security system. It has a four car garage, a single lane full-length swimming pool...
“Rich people prison,” Din repeats. The observation is astute.
“Mhm,” Luke’s been pulled back into the game. “Fuck,” Luke shouts at the TV as the blue team scores again. “Well, it’s official, we are worthless this year. You want another soda?”
“Sure.”
Soccer’s not that bad, actually. The green team makes a massive comeback to tie it, and Din finds himself on the edge of the couch down to the last few minutes.
“So it just ends in a tie?” Din asks when the referee blows the whistle. “Not a shootout or anything?”
“Not here,” Luke says, flipping the TV off. “Hey, you want something to eat?”
Din blinks. He’s become so comfortable, he’s already burned a good two hours watching television, and he still hasn’t even seen his office.
“I should probably get some work done,” Din says.
Luke snorts derisively, grabbing their empty bottles from the coffee table. “You mean sit and stare at security screens? Don’t you have motion sensors everywhere? And get alerts on your phone?”
“I should get used to what I’m working with,” Din says awkwardly.
“Suit yourself,” Luke calls from the kitchen. “You know where to find me,” he says the last part with a small amount of bitterness. “Not like I can go anywhere without you.”
Din takes that as his cue to leave.
Din’s office is a small offshoot on the second floor, and the only room with no windows. There’s a white desk with a white chair on the white wall, facing a white couch under a white painting of someone who scribbled with, what looks to be, a crayon.
Din opens up the security feed on the desktop. Most of the cameras are in the back, the most vulnerable point how the backyard feeds into the second floor so easily. A few look out on the sides, and one is pointed at the garage, another at the yard.
As he familiarizes himself with the system, he starts the coffee maker. There’s a small fridge that he puts his lunch in, as well as a microwave. With all the appliances, it becomes clear to Din that the intention is to have Din be as separate from Luke as possible, so much so that Luke could forget Din was even here when he wasn’t needed.
“Hey!” Luke bursts in the room with a frightening energy, startling Din. “Do you want fried chicken? I’m ordering out.”
Din blinks, then shakes his head and gestures to the fridge. “I, uh. Brought my lunch.”
Luke rolls his eyes. “If you’re dying to have it sure. Just know you’ll have to answer the door and deliver my food to me and go back and eat whatever is in that Tupperware.”
Din frowns. “I’m a good cook.”
“Oh I’m sure you are,” Luke says with a trace of condescension. “But no one is as good as fried chicken.”
Din doesn’t say anything, but Luke just smiles. “It’ll be here in thirty! Grab it from the door, would you please?” He asks, then before Din can respond, leaves.
Din scowls after him.
In half an hour, the delivery man arrives at the gate outside. Din lets him in, then takes the food from him at the door, leaving him a tip in case Luke forgot. Din has to admit that it smells a lot better than the leftovers he’s going to warm up for lunch, but he refuses to admit such a thing to Luke.
He walks the floor plan of the entire house before he finally locates Luke on the roof, watching television on a small TV mounted in the corner of the railing.
“Your food,” Din says gruffly. He drops it on the table next to Luke’s lounge chair.
Luke grins. “Thanks Mr. Djarin. Smells good, right?”
Din rolls his eyes and heads back to his office.
“What, no silverware?” Luke calls out after him.
At about 1830, Din receives a picture of Grogu from his babysitter. He’s grinning into the camera, eating a bowl of macaroni, and under is a little recording that Din presses play on.
“Hi Daddy. Today at school I learned how to play with blocks and also we did the alphabet. My teacher gave me a sticker with a dog on it, so I put it on your bike helmet. I have to do a lot of homework, but then I’m gonna ride my bike. I’m almost all the way up the hill without stopping. I love you!”
The sound of his son’s voice is enough to melt the stress from his body. He leans back in the chair, then says ‘I love you too’ into the phone, despite knowing Grogu can’t hear.
Being away nearly 12 hours a day is a struggle. It’s probably why between jobs he spoils the kid rotten, spending as much time with him as he can before something else springs up. At least Din isn’t out of the country this time. The Skywalker gig, while boring, is cushy, and affords him the right to go home at night. Part of him is glad Fett didn't accept. He never expected to need a 529 in his life, but having adopted Grogu, he has some catching up to do.
2000 on the dot, Din starts to pack his things. He debates on trying to find Luke, then settles for a simple text that says he’s leaving for the night, and to call the emergency line if anything happens. He isn’t expecting the man to barrel into him in the hallway, sliding on the floor in his socks.
“Whoops!” Luke laughs against Din’s chest. Din rights the other man carefully, nearly smiling at his antics. “Sorry, just waxed it seems. Hey, before you go, I got bored and made a tray of brownies, got through three of the twenty-four before I realized what a horrible mistake it was, so here.”
Luke holds out a box full of brownies. Din begins to decline, but Luke shakes his head, shoving the box into his hands.
“I’ll just eat them all at once and hate myself,” Luke says. “But you get to go outside meaning you can give them to people.”
Din doesn’t get it. At one point they’re watching soccer, the next Luke is being condescending, now he’s giving Din brownies?
“Come on, you’re doing me a favor,” Luke needles. His persistence is exhausting, and Din agrees, if only so he can go home.
“Thank you,” Din says stiffly.
“No problem Mr. Djarin,” Luke says. “Have a good night!”
Din tucks the box under his arms and heads outside to his car.
Din’s not surprised to see Grogu asleep, nor is he surprised to see that he’s curled up in Din’s bed. It’s always difficult the first day Din takes a new job. When he’s not working he’s around all the time: picking Grogu up from school, taking him to a hike in nearby mountains, going to swim lessons. But when he picks up a job, he’s gone most of the time Grogu is awake, and they only get bits and pieces of one another at night.
When Din crawls into bed, he wakes Grogu, just enough for him to mumble out a half-awake “Daddy,” and wriggle into Din’s arms. Din lets the child crawl up to his chest, but frowns when he catches sight of a bandage on his arm, bright green on his dark brown skin.
“What happened to your arm, bud?” Din asks.
“Swings,” Grogu mumbles.
“You hurt them on the swings?”
“Fell off.” Grogu buries his head further into Din’s chest. “Quiet, Daddy.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll let you sleep,” Din says. He can’t draw his eyes away from the bandage, nearly aches with knowing what happened to his son. It’s just a small cut, probably not worth fretting over, and if anything happened, Ms. Charlotte, an older black woman who serves as Grogu’s main babysitter, would definitely tell Din, but it still bothers Din that Grogu got hurt and he wasn’t there to see, there to hold him if he cried.
Din holds the child close to his chest, as if to make up for it. It takes Din hours to fall asleep.
Tuesday morning, 8 AM, Din drives Luke to the beach. Luke chats on the phone for most of the drive, drinking sips of something artificially blue in a water bottle. When they emerge on the boardwalk, the sun is already beating down on them.
“Four miles today,” Luke says. He’s wearing some sort of runners ensemble, a tank top with skin tight runners pants. Din’s wearing old gym shorts and a t-shirt he got for free from an event he can’t remember. He grabs his and Luke’s water bottles, then matches Luke’s pace as he starts down the beach.
It’s cool by the ocean, busy with those trying to catch some sun and keep in shape. Luke’s pace is rather quick, and Din finds the run more energizing than he expected. Most of Din’s workouts were in the gym, focused around keeping and maintaining fighting shape. Having the backdrop of the ocean was a nice change. Perhaps he needs to get more Vitamin D.
When they finish up back where they started, Luke’s panting heavily, his shoulders pink with exertion. Din regularly runs Cowles mountain as a warm up, so a few mile jog is nothing to him. He stands and waits for Luke to catch his breath.
Luke puts his foot up on a nearby bench, then Din’s eyebrows shoot up as he folds his whole body over his leg, completely flat. Flexible, Din notes.
“This must be nothing to you, four miles,” Luke says. He’s noticeably brighter after his workout, as if, despite being worn out, he’s only just getting started.
“It’s part of my job,” Din says.
“I used to be in much better shape.” Luke sounds frustrated as he says this.
“We all did,” Din says, moving closer to Luke so that a biker could go around him.
“You know, I was a sword fighter in high school.” Luke switches over to stretch his other side a moment.
“Sword fighting? That’s not common.”
“Oh yeah. Started with fencing, but then I got really into the art of it all,” Luke says.
“This was along with soccer?”
“I quit by then. No, I liked the fight scenes in movies, and wanted to mimic them. That’s how I got into a bit of fighting, MMA, sword stuff, stuff I’d never thought I’d use. My mother hired me a personal trainer, one of these experts who dedicated his whole life to the art. Man, that guy was arrogant as hell, but he got me into the best shape of my life,” Luke looks wistful for a moment as they head to the car. “It helped give me control. Focus. A purpose. You know?”
Din can understand that. “You know, I consulted on a few television shows as a weapons expert,” Din says. He’s unsure why he offers the information, but Luke perks up when he hears it.
“Really?” He asks eagerly. “What kinds of things? What shows were you on?”
“Swords. Guns. A bullwhip, once.” That garners a low whistle from Luke. “Most were props, but I consulted for a few major features.”
“Ah, the good old Hollywood secrets. No hints?”
Din chuckles.
“Is it something I’ve seen before?”
“Probably,” Din says.
“Look at you,” Luke says. “On your way to fame and stardom.”
“I hope not.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Luke says sagely. “Hey, can we stop for breakfast?”
Luke makes them stop at a nearby juice bar that charges over ten dollars for a small smoothie. Luke insists on buying him something, so Din ends up getting a simple strawberry banana smoothie that, he has to admit, tastes quite good. Luke’s drinking a smoothie the color of swamp water that he swears is the best thing on the menu.
“You’ll break my arm before you get me to try that,” Din says, when Luke offers.
They eventually find their way home, Din pulling into the garage in the space Anakin’s car left behind. It didn’t take long for Luke to realize he’s made a horrible mistake in forgetting his sunscreen. His pasty white skin had the makings for a rather intense burn. Din takes mild amusement in watching him apply sunscreen retroactively back in the house.
“Fuck this,” Luke says, and he pulls his shirt off entirely. Luke’s well built for his size, lean muscle toned firmly under his skin. Din is suddenly aware of the sheen of sweat that’s built up on his chest, shining in the sun coming through the glass windows.
“I think it’s sliding right off,” Luke says, exasperated.
“It’s too late for sunscreen,” Din says, taking pity on Luke. “What you need is a cool towel.”
Din grabs an untouched hand towel from the stove in the kitchen, then runs it under some ice cold water from the sink. He returns to see Luke pressing his thumb against his red skin, wincing, then watching as it comes away white.
“Why are you...?” Din shakes his head, and feels like he does when he has to tell his son to stop dipping his fingers into his chocolate pudding cups. “Stop doing that. Turn around,” he says. Luke turns, and Din drapes the towel around his neck.
Luke lets out a small hiss as the coolness settles into his overheated skin. He tenses for a moment, then exhales in relief. “That feels nice,” Luke murmurs. He rolls his neck backwards and closes his eyes. Din swallows, his throat dry. He should probably grab something to drink. Yet he doesn’t move, his hands still resting on the other man’s shoulders. He runs his hands over the towel and down the back of Luke’s arms, pressing the icy fabric into his overheated skin. Luke lets out another small, breathy sigh, eyes closing for a brief moment, and sharp arousal spikes through Din.
Din snatches his hands back like he’s been burned. “I... should go and check the cameras.”
Luke frowns, wrapping the towel tighter around his shoulder. “Wait, do you want some water? I think I have some lemonade in the fridge.”
“I’m alright. Thank you,” Din nods in Luke’s direction, not quite looking him in the eye, then heads towards the security room. He loiters around his desk for a moment, feeling, for a moment, incredibly lost, before he shakes it off and sits down at the desk. He goes through the security footage from when they were out, catches up on a few emails, and wishes he said yes to that lemonade.
In the afternoon, Din opens the small fridge under the desk to grab his lunch, something he left in there from yesterday. However, his fingers clunk against glass instead of his plasticware. He frowns and looks under the desk.
The fridge is full of mandarin orange soda.
At 2000, Din prepares to leave. He goes to send a text, but in a split second decision he decides to say his goodbyes in person. Just in case Luke doesn’t see his message, he tells himself.
Luke’s not on the first floor, nor the second. Din wonders if he should cut his losses, but decides to trudge up to the third. The most obvious choice is Luke’s bedroom, which, according to the blueprints, is on the upper corner of the house.
Din knocks, then waits, his feet sinking deeply into the white carpet. When Luke doesn’t answer right away, he berates himself, shifting his lunch bag further over his shoulder. He turns to leave right as the door swings open.
“Hey!” Luke says, a little breathless.
“I’m leaving,” Din says. “For the, uh, day.” Fuck, Din should have just sent a text.
“Is it that time already?” Luke looks like he’s genuinely lost track of time, pulling his phone from his pocket with a frown. “Oh, hey, did you like the brownies?”
“Yes,” Din says.
“Good!” Luke smiles brightly, and Din’s words get lost somewhere in his throat. “I mean, they’re just the ones from the box, I’m not much of a baker or anything,” Luke says.
“They were good,” Din repeats dumbly.
“Great. So... I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Din says.
“Grogu,” Din says the moment he gets home.
Grogu looks up at him with wide, brown eyes.
“I’m only going to ask you this once,” Din continues. “Did you eat a brownie before dinner? When Ms. Charlotte told you not to?”
Grogu, whose face is currently smeared in chocolate, shakes his head no.
Din folds his arms. “What did I say about lying?”
“I’m not ly-ing.”
“Then why is there chocolate on your face?”
With all the logic of a six year old, Grogu says, “I don’t have chocolate on my face.”
Din sighs. He hates whoever taught Grogu how to lie. “You want me to ground you?”
Grogu’s eyes go wide. “No!”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“...I ate a brownie,” Grogu says quietly to the floor. He clasps his hands behind his back and bows his head.
Din gets down on his knees to his level. “Grogu, when we lie, we lose trust in each other. I’d rather you tell me the truth than lie to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good. Can I have a hug?”
Grogu runs into Din’s arms, and Din rubs his back. He knows he should probably apply some sort of punishment for the child. Many people already tell Din he’s not being strict enough with Grogu, and that’s dangerous for his growth. Those same people tell Din he shouldn’t let Grogu sleep in his bed anymore.
Din wonders what they think they know more than him. Most of them at school and the community center where Grogu goes to after school classes were first time parents as well, parroting things they read in baby books. Din decided early on that he’d first try to listen to the needs of his child. If that makes Din soft, so be it. They don’t know about Grogu’s past, how that affects the way Grogu perceives wrongdoings. And Din would rather slice off his own foot than become someone Grogu fears.
There’s no reason for Din not to go straight to the security room the next morning, yet he finds himself searching for Luke when arrives. So that Luke knows that he’s here, Din thinks to himself.
Luke’s on the first floor in front of the TV with two bottles of soda on the coffee table. “The game’s starting in fifteen minutes,” Luke says before Din can get a word out. “Put your stuff down and come watch.”
Din goes back upstairs and drops his stuff off in the security room, shoving his lunch in the fridge. He does a cursory glance over the pass down report from the night guard and doesn’t see anything alarming, so he heads back to the main room to join Luke on the couch again.
“Whose team are we on today?” Din asks. Luke’s popped a bowl of popcorn in the time Din was gone. Din wonders if he’s ever heard of breakfast food.
“Anyone but the red team,” Luke says. Over the next two hours, they watch as the red team decimates the purple team. If Luke lived with Din, he’d need to put his whole wallet in the swear jar.
Luke’s outings today consist of a walk around the neighborhood, where they stopped for Luke to pet no less that four dogs, then a trip to a tea house in the afternoon, something Din has never considered doing in his entire life.
The tea house is covered in plants, with paper lanterns casting a pink and purple glow over everything. Every table was full, and the patrons were dressed like they were going to church right after, in big hats and bright dresses. Luke himself went for a completely black outfit, something with panels of leather that oddly go along with the theme. Din, who wore a black company shirt and jeans, stood out like a sore thumb, but the good part about having the word ‘Security’ printed on your back is that most people’s eyes slide right over him.
Leia is just like Luke, a young face with a bold presence. She greets Din kindly, then tells him he’s welcome to sit with her husband, who was slouching on a loveseat in the darkest corner of the tea house, looking for all the world like he wished he was anywhere else. Din sits on the couch across from him, and tries to get comfortable on the overstuffed cushions.
If Din was skirting the lines of whatever dress code they had, Han was downright shattering it. He was in joggers and a faded band t-shirt, his sunglasses tilted crookedly over his eyes. Hungover, Din would guess.
“Can I get you boys something?” The waiter asks as she approaches the table. She’s looking down on them in more ways than one.
“You got any coffee?” Han asks.
She gives him a constipated smile. “We are a tea house,” she says.
“So... that’a no?”
Din hides a smile behind a cough. He doesn’t think he’s successful.
“How bouta beer?” Han says. “Hair of the dog and all that.”
She snaps her notebook shut. “I’ll get waters for the table,” she says, then turns pointedly away.
The other man sighs. “I hate this place,” he mutters.
“You’ve been before?”
“Once a year since I met my wife,” he says, gesturing to the table where Luke and Leia sit across the way. They have their heads together, deep in heated conversation about something. “Part of my vows.”
“Han Solo,” Din says. He recognized the man the second he walked in the place from the various mugshots on Fett’s wall of fame. Most of his had darts in the face.
Han slides lower in his seat, head getting precariously close to the massive ficus perched behind him. “Kid’s talked about me, huh,” Han says. He grins. “That’s a step further than I usually get with you guys.”
Din blinks. “Us guys?”
Han snorts. “You’re not the first one of Luke’s boytoys I’ve sat with.”
Din stares blankly at Han. Han tilts his glasses down to give Din a knowing look.
“Come on. You’re right up his alley. Big, strong, and silent type. Screams Daddy issues to me, but who am I to talk. You’re better than the last girl at least.” Han mutters. “Oh, she was only with ‘im for his money I guarantee, and she was dumb as a rock, but my God, I know why Luke picked her. She had a body that’s probably killed a man before.”
“I’m from a security firm,” Din interrupts, vaguely uncomfortable. “I’m Luke’s bodyguard.”
“Oh I bet,” Han says. “Like to play some bedroom games, huh?”
Din points to his shirt, where the symbol for the Mando company is printed on the front.
Han stares at it, then pulls down his glasses and squints, as if he can see it better.
“Mando, you say..." Han says slowly.
Din nods.
“Hey. So. You, uh, know a guy named Fett by chance? Starts with a Boba?”
“Yes.”
Han chews his lip. “Don’t suppose you could, uh, keep quiet about seein’ me?”
“No can do,” Din says.
Han nods. Continues to nod, as he leans back in his chair. “You know,” he says, looking around, “I’m starting to think we’re not gonna get those drinks.”
“Han?” Luke says, buckling his seat belt as Din pulls away from the tea house. “Yeah, he’s been kicked out of almost every bar in LA. Add on that he’s not the cleanest of guys...”
“I can see that,” Din says dryly.
Luke looks nervously at Din through the rear view mirror. “That’s... not an issue. Right?”
“You mean, am I going to turn him in?” Din asks. If Din cared about the law, he’d be doing time himself. “I’m security, not police. He’s fine.” Fett might have other ideas, but that’s between them.
Din drums his fingers on the steering wheel, wondering if he should bring up what Han said. On one hand, it really wasn’t his business who Luke spent his time with. On the other, Han just outed Luke, and Din knows that if he were in Luke’s shoes, he’d like to know what happened.
“He told me that he thought I was your ‘boytoy’,” Din says, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him.
Luke rolls his eyes in the rear view. “I date one stripper, and suddenly all I do is acquire boytoys. I’m sorry for him, I really am. He, well, Leia says he means well. I don’t get that relationship, I honestly don’t.”
He’s relieved Luke doesn’t seem upset at being outed. He decides a subject change will do. “How was your sister?”
“Fine. Well, terrible really, she’s in government, trying to make it to the Senate in a few years when she’s old enough, but someone’s trying to get her voted out of her current office. Added on to my stalker, which is somehow a scandal? She's having a rought go of it.”
“Sounds like... politics,” Din says grunting with distaste.
“You could say that,” Luke snorts. “I still don’t see how me having a stalker is a scandal. You know what was a scandal, that one photo of me skinny dipping at a pool party in my teens. You know Leia got under fire for that? Leia! She didn’t do anything, but because I was a dumbass, suddenly she’s at fault? God, women have it rough,” Luke sighs.
“They do,” Din says, tongue a tad thick in his mouth. Skinny dipping, huh.
“She already has trouble with Han’s mile long list of bars he’s been thrown out of,” Luke mutters. “She’ll survive. She’s stronger than I am.”
“She must be pretty damn strong then,” Din says. Luke smiles at the compliment, and it causes Din’s stomach to flip over.
Din clears his throat. “We’ll be to your home soon,” he says.
Grogu has a haircut scheduled the next morning. The barber is a recommendation from Din’s own, who told him that he didn’t know how to cut black hair. Din pays nearly thrice his rate to have him come to their house at five o’clock in the morning, but he’s good with Grogu, and always has a story to tell. James is also very active in the local black community, and always extends a hand towards Din and Grogu for local events.
“Our church is having another cookout this weekend,” James says as he packs up. “We’d love it if you and Grogu could make it.”
“Who’s on the grill?”
“Ronnie.”
“Good,” Din says, going over to his son to check out his new haircut. “He knows how to cook.”
“Think you can bring that corn you make so well?”
“I’ll have to see,” Din says, running his hands over his son’s head. “I’m on a job for the next couple weeks. I still want Grogu to go, though. You wanna go buddy?”
“Yeah!” Grogu says.
“Grogu is always welcome to carpool with us,” James says, and Grogu cheers.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Din says. “Grogu, what do we say?”
“Thank you Mr. Johnson,” Grogu sing-songs.
James nods. “You’re welcome kid.” James turns to Din. “Both you and Grogu are always welcome, and don’t let anyone there tell you anything different, alright?”
“Thank you, James.”
“Anytime.”
The sun is barely rising as Din straps Grogu into the car with the booster seat he keeps in the trunk. Grogu is excited to show off his new shorter hair at school, and won’t stop talking about it the whole ride.
When Din drops him off, he watches as he heads into the herd of tiny children going into the front doors, chattering away with his friends.
Din spends his commute worrying that he’s not doing the right thing for Grogu. That he’s not the right thing for him. He could have two parents somewhere, one that’s able to be home during normal hours. Parents with regular schedules, that could take weekends off, and go to cookouts with him. Not for the first time, Din wonders if it’s selfish to love him like this.
He tries to compartmentalize those thoughts when he parks at the Skywalker residence. In his office, he reads the pass down information from the night guard, then makes himself a cup of coffee before going to find Luke. Din ends up on the third floor looking for him before he hears the sound of the shower. He decides to wait for Luke on the second floor, the one that extends open into the outside world. Someone has gone through and cleaned the place, he notices. The floor sparkles like it’s never been touched.
Luke has yoga today, which he wants to practice in the backyard. The neighbors were too close not for Din to be on guard. He’ll have to watch, be sure no one is targeting him.
Din finishes off his coffee listening to the sound of the waves crashing into the sheer rock cliffs below the house.
Din hears steps behind him. “Ready?” Luke asks.
Din turns around and promptly swallows his entire tongue. Luke is wearing nothing but skin-tight off-white exercise leggings, and a bright morning smile. He has a towel and a yoga mat tossed over his shoulder, a water bottle hanging from a crooked finger.
“Yes,” Din’s voice comes out a little too hoarse, and he clears his throat.
“Don’t worry,” Luke winks, and Din feels his face burn. “Put on plenty of sunscreen this time.”
Luke picks a spot that looks directly out to the ocean, near the glass fence that protects him from the sharp cliffs below. Din stays back, watching from afar. Truthfully, he could probably watch from the cameras in the security room, but just in case something happens, Din wants to be able to react immediately.
Din settles into a lounge chair, categorizing the weak spots in the cover. There’s the stretch of grass that leads to the front of the house that is partially blocked by a few trees, and the windows from the neighbors on the right side that look out over the wall and onto their property. Other than that, Luke is safe. Din just needs to keep his eyes peeled.
Luke finishes setting up, and begins his session. He starts sitting cross legged, facing directly away from Din, for a long enough time Din relaxes. He rotates his attention between the empty length of grass that leads to where Luke is meditating, the window in the neighbors house, and Luke himself.
Din’s attention is pulled back when Luke moves suddenly, planting his hands on the mat and shooting his legs back effortlessly, pulling an impressed eyebrow from Din.
Yoga for Luke is really truly yoga, Din learns. His movements are fluid, practiced, and stable, and he shifts from pose to pose without thought, like he’s done it a thousand times before. It looks effortless, but Din knows enough to know the amount of discipline it must take to make these movements look so smooth. Some moments, Luke is rooted to the ground, other’s he looks lighter than air. Din’s not sure what the hell Luke meant when he said he was out of shape.
The positions start to get very complicated, some of them putting visible strain on Luke’s body. He binds his arms behind his back and under his leg at one point, then lifts his chest to the sky. Another time, he pushes himself up into a headstand, then further up into a handstand. His eyes are closed, his shoulder muscles straining, supporting the weight of his body.
Din exhales a breath when Luke lands safely on his feet. He flows into a single leg lift, lifting until his toes point towards the sky, creating a near perfect line from one foot to the other. He drops it back down, then bends forward, so far his chest hits his knees. He exhales roughly, his muscles rippling up his backside, the thin tights doing nothing to hide the strain of Luke’s thighs, the flex of his calves as he pushes himself up to his toes. Luke stretches his arms up, then sits back in an invisible chair, the thin fabric straining over his glutes, so close, Din thinks, to ripping--
Din’s cock aches.
He snaps his eyes away so fast his neck cracks as awareness floods in. He tries to focus his breathing, which had grown short in the last few minutes, but all he can think of is the man that is but a simple head turn away, all he can feel is the cotton of his boxers rubbing against the sensitive skin of his erection.
He needs to get his shit together. Fast.
He tucks his knees up, and grinds down on his teeth. The sight lines. He needs to focus on the weak spots. The grass around the corner, the windows of the neighbors house, boats on the ocean. Anything but Luke.
When Luke ends his practice, Din escapes into the house, refusing to look at the other man’s face. He excuses himself to the bathroom, splashes water on his heated face. Had it really been so long since he’s had a partner that something like this was enough to get him going? Never mind how inappropriate it was to be lusting after his employer.
Din looks at his wet face in the mirror, willing the tent in his pants to unpitch. Din was here to work, and he’s been getting much too close to his charge. He has to keep his distance.
So Din takes care to avoid Luke for the rest of the day. Single word responses are his forte, and it’s made easier by the hot wash of embarrassment that hits him every time Luke stops in the security room. Luke seems to not notice at first, but as the day progresses, he grows visibly confused. When Din packs up to head home, he doesn’t text Luke until he’s in the car, just to be sure he won’t seek him out.
The last thing he needs is to explain this to him.
When Din gets home, Ms. Charlotte has a sad look on her face.
“It’s a bad day,” she says.
Din sighs. Nods. Let’s her go, then walks over to the small blanket fort that’s been semi-permanently built into the space between the couch cushions.
Inside, Grogu is curled up sleeping, Din picks him up as gently as he can, but Grogu wakes in the process, and squirms.
“I’m not sleepy, Daddy,” he says.
“You were just asleep,” Din points out. “We should go to your room.”
Grogu shakes his head, and wriggles out of Din’s arms. “I don’t want to go to my room,” he says, curling up as small as he can. Din gets a sinking feeling in his gut.
“It’s time to brush our teeth, buddy,” Din says.
“Not ‘til it’s safe,” the child whispers.
Din swallows hard. “Okay, okay.”
He crawls into the fort with Grogu, into Grogu’s makeshift bed, then lets Grogu burrow under the covers with him. Din wraps an arm around him. The ground is hard on his back.
“Let me know when it’s safe,” Din says.
“Shhh...” Grogu whispers. “You have to be quiet.”
“I’m being quiet,” Din says.
“Shhhh!!!”
“Okay, okay...”
Din rests his hand on his son’s back, rubbing slowly. Grogu keeps himself curled tightly, not shaking, not crying, just holding himself still, eyes shut against Din’s chest. He’s not sure what set Grogu off this time. Sometimes it was lighting and thunder, other times earthquakes. There were roofers in the complex, perhaps there was too much banging. Sometimes though, there’s no trigger at all, and that’s what scares Din the most. How do you protect a child from their own head?
After a few minutes, Grogu uncurls slightly. He’s falling asleep, tiredness pushing through his fear.
“I think it’s safe now,” Din whispers.
Grogu curls back up tight, but it’s clear he’s exhausted. “How do you know?” He whispers back.
“I can’t hear anything anymore,” Din says. Just the air conditioner thrumming in the walls.
“They might be hiding,” Grogu says. Din doesn’t know who Grogu thinks is hiding.
“I can protect you,” Din says. “In my arms, you will always be safe with me.” Din feels like he’s said this a hundred times, but he says it a hundred times more until Grogu believes it.
Grogu shakes his head.
“Come on son,” Din says. “Daddy wants to go to bed.”
“Don’t leave me?” Grogu asks.
“Never, Grogu. I promise. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”
“Okay,” Grogu says. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’ll stick right by your side,” Din assures, knowing he’s going to be sleeping with him tonight. “Now come on,” Din says, picking the child up from the ground and hugging him protectively to his chest. “Let’s go brush our teeth.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to watch the game?” Luke asks him as Din tries to escape after taking Luke to lunch. “You’ve been checking security, nothing is there, and we both know you’d be getting alerts on your phone if something was up.”
Din hesitates by the hallway. Truthfully, it’s been a troubling couple of days. A visit to Grogu’s therapist after his last attack had left Din feeling like he was out of his depth, again. Grogu seems to have recovered just fine, at least, and is looking forward to the cookout, but Din knows enough to know that scars fester under the skin as well as over. Truth is, some days Din has no idea what Grogu needs from him, and it scares him to death, that he’s unable to provide.
Despite that, it's still been a struggle keeping his distance from Luke, harder than Din expected. The man was so easy going, it actually made Din want to talk to him, get to know him better. But then Din remembers what happened in the backyard, and Din is reminding why he shouldn't be getting closerto him.
“I shouldn’t," Din says resolutely.
“I’ll be honest,” Luke says. He’s not angry, more so... sad. “I don’t really know a lot of people in this area. My family works days so I can’t talk to them, and there’s only so many online MMORPGs you can play at one time before you get bored, believe it or not. I’m kind of going a bit stir crazy here being all by myself, and I feel like, I dunno, we had a good thing going?”
Din bites the inside of his lip. That’s the problem, how good a thing it is.
Luke takes a deep breath that shakes on the way in. “Unless you don’t want to. That’s fine, too. I can, I dunno. It’s fine.”
“No,” Din sighs. “I’ll stay.” Because he gets it. He moved to California because there was work for him here. He’s not the kind of man that’s good at making friends. Without his son, he’d be completely alone.
“Don’t stay out of pity,” Luke says, expression wary.
“Not pity,” Din says. “Just... understand that on these jobs, I’m used to maintaining a certain level of distance between myself and the client. But I usually do events, or short term situations. I’m not used to the... extended proximity.”
“It’s easy to get used to being alone,” Luke says. “So, more about me, I dropped out of college and enlisted in the Air Force. Became the best damn fighter jet pilot you’d ever seen. I was on my way to big stuff, I had my friends, I had my orders.” Luke looks fond, but something haunted lingers at the corners of his eyes.
“What happened?” Din asks, coming closer to the couch.
Luke presses his lips together. “I got hurt.”
Luke holds his hand up and over the back of the couch, and Din leans to get a better look. “Caught on the edge of an explosion, nearly lost my forearm. It still doesn’t work right.”
Afar it was hard to tell, but looking closely, there were some intense discolorations on his skin. Din holds Luke’s palm in both of his hands without really thinking, tracing over the vine-like scars.
“Skin grafts,” Luke says, wiggling his fingers. “Don’t ask me where they pulled the skin from.”
Din lets go, and Luke returns his arm to his side, his expression grim. “Shut everyone out for a while. Started having nightmares, went down a really bad road. Managed to pull myself together, but it's been tough.” It sounds like there’s a lot more Luke wasn’t saying, but Din knows enough to ask. Instead, he empathizes.
“I’m a Ranger,” Din says.
Luke’s eyes go wide, then he grins. “Park or Army?”
Din’s laugh comes from deep in his chest. “Fuck off. Army. Vet. I just mean I get it.”
“You know what? Hold on. Talks like this require something a little more.”
Luke jumps over the back of the couch and heads to the kitchen. He returns with a six pack of beer.
“It’s 1330,” Din points out.
“After lunch is good enough for me,” Luke says, popping the cap off a bottle.
“I’m working,” Din says.
“Want me to grab you a soda?” Luke asks easily.
Din hesitates. He should, but. He’s really not doing what he ‘should’ be doing these days. “I’ll just have one.”
Luke opens the top, and hands it over to the Din. The game had started, but they weren’t really paying attention this time, instead talking to one another.
Luke goes deeper into his struggles with nightmares, and Din manages to talk about how he has bouts of insomnia that go for weeks on end. They swap stories of the good times, and let the bad ones linger, letting them dissipate into the air.
Din wants to ask how Luke has become so positive, so happy, after his service, but he stops himself from going that far. Instead he lets the conversation dwindle, and watch as Luke’s team gets thrashed by the red team on TV. He tries not to pay attention to how Luke sometimes taps the bottle against his mouth when he’s focused in the game, or how when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs back and forth, his lips wrapped around the bottle’s throat.
It’s the next yoga session where Din gets caught.
It’s an especially hot southern California day, which says something given that it’s southern California, but Luke still insists on practicing outside. So Din stands watch, sweltering in his black on black, as the sweat sticks to Luke’s sky blue tights, his skin so shiny he looks like he was dipped in honey. Din’s been ignoring him successfully until a grunt pulls him in, and he watches for far too long as Luke sits down on an invisible chair, ass straining the tights.
“You like what you see?”
Din’s eyes snap up. Luke is smiling at him from over his shoulder. Luke stands back up, arms lifted over his head, and cocks his hip to the side.
“I-- I was...”
“I had a theory,” Luke says. He turns away, the bends down to grab his towel, and Din’s brain goes white. Din turns. Looks at the window, looks at the grass.
“Are you done?” Din asks.
“With yoga? Sure thing.”
“Then get inside,” Din says.
“How forward!”
Din scowls. “The house.” Din says over Luke’s laughter.
Luke enters without trouble in the world, humming a song to himself. Din follows without looking at him, waiting for Luke to take his leave. He’d rather get the teasing over with, let Luke laugh a little, and they could write the whole thing off as a joke.
“I think I’m going to take a shower,” Luke says.
“Fine,” Din mumbles, still embarrassed at his slip. He tries his best not to look Luke in the eye, which is why he's surprised when Luke goes to stand directly in front of him.
Luke reaches out and runs his thumb over Din’s chin. “I like the stubble,” Luke says, winking. Din feels every single hair catch on his fingertips.
By the time Din’s able to move again, Luke’s already halfway up the steps.
Din avoids Luke for the rest of the day, unsure about where to go from here. This had gone beyond unprofessional, perhaps into somewhere dangerous. Din should probably call a new Mando to take his place, or tell Luke that they shouldn’t go down that kind of route with one another.
But what’s stopping them? A little devil whispers on Din’s shoulder. Luke’s so far proven to be much more than meets the eye. Interesting, funny, a little hyperactive, but the energy is endearing. If Luke isn’t just teasing, if Luke is interested too...
“Hey!”
Din looks over to see Luke in the doorway of the office. He hopes that his face isn’t burning, starkly aware of his own inner thoughts.
“I want to go to dinner,” Luke says. “Can you be ready in five?”
“I’m ready now,” Din says, standing up. He has a job to do, he needs to focus on keeping Luke safe.
Din drives him to a little Mediterranean restaurant that looks out over the water. When Din goes to find another table however, Luke waves for him to sit with him. Din hesitates, but follows suit. It’s because Luke asked him to, he tells himself.
“You’re good company,” Luke says offhandedly, if perhaps noting Din’s stiffness. “Get whatever you like, I’ll make my father pay.”
“You know I expense all of my meals to him anyway,” Din points out.
“Yeah but this feels more overtly ‘in your face’ you know?” Luke says. “Plus, most of the money in the family is my mother’s, he’s only married into it.”
Din nods, but still takes care to order something light. Luke has no such qualms, getting them an appetizer he insists on sharing, as well as an incredibly expensive looking plate of fish.
“So,” Luke says, digging into the calamari. “Honest question for you, what made you choose California?”
“Work is here,” Din simply.
“Okay... Do you like it here?”
“It’s not bad,” Din says.
“I think it’s got some good parts,” Luke says, thankfully carrying the conversation. “Though the people in La Jolla are entitled as hell. My parents, I think, were afraid of me and Leia getting rich kid syndrome, so we spent our summers under false names at various summer camps in are youth.”
“Where did you go?”
“I got sent to a farm way out in the middle of the Midwest with a bunch of other teenage guys. This was before they knew I was bisexual, mind you, and let me tell you, those were some very formative experiences. Anyway, I spent most of it shoveling hay, driving tractors, all that stuff. Wasn’t fun, like, at all, and when you got in trouble they put you on manure duty.”
The idea of Luke in his nice clothes, shoveling shit out of a barn, makes Din laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Let me tell you, no one could milk those cows like I could though,” Luke says.
“I bet you could,” Din says. “What about Leia?”
“Worked as an assistant to one of my mother’s colleagues,” Luke says. “I thought it was cushy, but then she told me about how many coffee runs she did for the office, how many late nights she had past midnight, even on weekends. She made me swear up and down I’d never take advantage of service staff, ever.”
“What type of work?”
“Well, you know my mother, right?”
“No.”
Luke blinks owlishly. “She’s a senator. Leia was an assistant to one of the woman on her staff.”
“Oh,” Din says.
Luke squints. “Amidala? Senator Amidala. Really? Nothing? You live here Din.”
“You have different last names,” Din points out.
Luke breaks down laughing, and Din starts to smile despite himself. “How was I supposed to know that’s who your mother is?” Din asks, slightly defensive.
“Do you not watch the news? At all?” Luke laughs. “I’m in there every once in a while, when my father hasn’t decided to do something more interesting.”
“I don’t watch that much,” Din says. “It’s... a lot to deal with, most of the time.”
Luke doesn’t press, for which Din is grateful. “That’s fair.”
They eat quietly for a moment, but now Din’s mind starts to wonder about the man in front of him.
“Why did you want to be a pilot?” Din asks.
“Well, at the farm... okay it’s cheesy, but bear with me, at the farm, you could see every single star in the sky, you know, like you’re supposed to see it. With the Milky Way and all that stuff, not like how it is here with all the pollution. So... I guess I just wanted to be among them, you know? Of course it really wasn’t like that, there was a hell of a lot more work, but the first time I got up there in one the F-15? I felt like I was free.”
Luke’s expression is full of young excitement. Refreshing, Din realizes, to see someone still so full of life.
“Anyway, now that I’m out, I’m just kinda... coasting. I keep thinking of going back to school or something, but I’ve always been so hands on, that might not be for me.”
“I’m the same way,” Din says. “That’s why I got into the security business. It’s pretty straightforward, and people pay top dollar for someone with my background.”
“So... you were a guard, then, before you went into the business side of it?”
Din shakes his head. “I own it on accident,” Din says, finishing up his food. “I worked there for a while, and the previous owner suddenly passed away. He had no family, but he had listed me as the next owner of the business. I don’t really want to be in charge, but it’s too lucrative to sell, and none of the other guards are interested in the business side of things.”
“Then how do you handle the business side of things?”
“I hired a business person.”
“A... business person? What, did you pick the first man in a suit you saw?” Luke teases.
“First woman in a suit,” Din corrects, and Luke laughs.
It’s altogether a rather enjoyable night. In any other circumstance, Din would call this a date, down to Luke paying for the meal. But it’s easy to remind himself of their roles, especially when Luke sits in the backseat of the car when Din gets in the front.
Din hadn’t been too subtle about his appreciation of the cars in the Skywalker garage. The garage features a spot for Din’s Escalade, something covered in the corner, and a tank-like Mercedes Benz. But what caught Din’s eye the first time he parked there was the supercar. He’d driven a few fast things in his life, but the all white McClaren 600LT is a whole different class of speed. It always earns an appreciative glance before he goes inside.
This time, when they get back to the house, and Din’s eyes do their usual wandering over towards the sports car, Luke follows his gaze.
“You wanna drive it?”
Din blinks at him, then blinks again.
“It’s Dad’s technically, but you’re a good driver, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Luke is so nonchalant about offering Din use of a car that’s worth more than Din’s house that Din can’t even think of an answer. He wants to say yes. He should say no. He looks at Luke, conflicted.
Luke grins. “Hold on, let me grab the keys.”
Din hits a hundred and forty in the middle of nowhere, dust kicking up behind him in a proverbial storm, a smile etched onto his face. Luke is hollering over the wind, laughing out loud and whooping as Din kicks it into last gear, revving the engine for all it’s worth. The thing is manual, 8 speed clutch, runs beautifully, and accelerates so fast when Din hits the gas that he’s barely able to keep up. Barely.
Din stops them on the side of the empty roadway after a few minutes of driving, hands still glued to the steering wheel. His heart is pumping like he’s in the middle of a fight, but he’s smiling more than he has in weeks. He turns to Luke, and his heart doesn’t stop pumping. Luke looks windswept, blond hair a mess, even as he pulls his fingers through it to lay it back down. Luke lets out a delighted laugh at Din’s expression on his face.
“How’s that?”
Din shakes his head, still without words.
“Ever go this fast?” Luke asks.
“Only on bikes,” Din says.
“Ah,” Luke grins. “Let me guess. Kawasaki... Ninja.”
“No.”
“The Z?”
“Not a Kawasaki.”
“Hm... Ducati?”
Din laughs, finally unsticking his hands from the steering wheel. Adrenaline has his hands shaking. “As if I had the money.”
“Are those a lot?” Luke asks cheekily, and Din snorts.
“It’s a Honda.”
“Aw man, a fuckin’ Honda?”
“Don’t shit on my bike now,” Din warns.
“Uh-huh.”
“I guarantee I could ride circles around you,” Din says. “Get whatever Ducati joint you want.”
“Yeah, you know what?” Luke leans in. “You’re on, Djarin.”
“Din.” He offers his name, just to see Luke light up.
“Din,” Luke repeats. He says the name with reverence, lets it linger like the last bite of chocolate cake on a plate. Din watches as his lips form his name, perhaps watches too long, because when his eyes behave again, Luke’s wearing an expression Din’s never seen before. His eyes are stormy, his lips parting ever so slightly, exhaling into the space between them.
“Din,” he says again. Something heavy stirs in Din’s stomach. His gaze narrows to Luke’s lips, the world holding its breath. He leans a few inches over the center console. Luke’s breath hitches, and Din’s stomach jumps when he sees him mirror his movements, until the space narrows between them to only their breaths.
Grogu’s text tone blares. Luke jumps, and Din blinks rapidly. Din pulls back and reaches for his phone, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat. His hands are sticky with sweat.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson have sent him an afternoon update, a picture of Grogu grinning as he eats his way through a paper plate of barbecue pork, his face smeared with sauce.
Din chest constricts. He can’t do this. Not with Grogu. Not with Luke.
“Din?”
“We should go,” Din says stiffly, putting the phone down.
Luke looks desperately like he wants to say something, but Din stares straight forward, putting the car in gear.
“Right. It’s getting late,” Luke says, shuffling back to his side of the car, clearly disappointed.
The drive back is much quieter. Din knows he should say something, but he can’t find the right words.
How would Luke react to knowing about Grogu? How would Grogu handle another person in his life? Din can’t help but be overprotective of him, after all he’s been through. Din doesn’t know what Luke would want from him. From them. And that’s another complexity Din’s not prepared to explore. There’s just too much at stake.
That doesn’t mean that, at home, at night, Din doesn’t think about what almost happened. He’s lying in bed, Grogu safe and sound in his own room, the television on with no sound in the corner of the room. He tosses over again on his bed, trying and failing to fall asleep. Insomnia is an unwelcome friend he’s very much familiar with, but the insistent arousal is new, and in full force.
He pulls out his phone and flicks through a porn site, trying to pick something fast. He finds himself searching the videos for actors with sandy blonde hair, and berates himself for it. He pulls up a solo film, a beautiful man showing off his body as his strokes himself, but his brain is too scattered to follow.
Din cuts the video off and tosses his phone to the side, then closes his eyes. He dips his hand under his waistband and lets his mind wander. It’s not scenes playing in his head, just images, movements, motions. The depth of Luke’s eyes in the car, earlier. The rough feeling of his thumb stroking over Din’s chin. The curve of his back as strains during yoga. Sweat rolling down Luke’s overheated skin, a sigh of ice cold relief. Din’s name in Luke’s mouth, stretching the short word out in invitation--
“Hah--”
Din’s orgasm shocks him. He thrusts through it, gasping, cum dribbling down his hand and into the sheets.
He rolls over again, still wide awake. The bed already feels cold.
Din greets Luke the next day, but begs off to the office as Luke has a video chat with his mother. The schedule for today is empty, but Din’s not surprised when Luke appears at his office door in the afternoon.
“I’d like to go for a swim today,” Luke says. He has a suspicious glint in his eyes, and his fingers are toying with the hem of the burgundy robe wrapped around his body.
Din leads the other man outside, doing a cursory check before setting himself up in a chair near the pool. It’s twenty-five meters long, one lane wide, and goes along the side of the house.
Luke drops the robe from his shoulders in a fluid, elegant motion, revealing absolutely nothing but skin underneath.
Din turns his head up immediately, but his mind has already cataloged and burned the image into his memory. Pale skin, taught shoulder muscles, a delicate curve at the base of his spine, the firm roundness of his cheeks.
Din takes a deep breath, lust boiling under his skin.
There’s a loud splash. Instinct has Din looking down again. But Luke is only swimming, head buried in the water and hips grazing the surface in a perfect front crawl down the lane. The water rolls shiny over his back, collects for a moment right above his hips, then slides over his ass and to the sides. Each pull stretches one side of his body while the other clenches, and Din gets lost in the rhythmic clench and release, the pull and the reach, the turn of his hips from side to side.
Din watches Luke swim several laps, and feels guilty that he doesn’t feel guilty. It’s just them, here. The sunlight bounces off the windows of the house, the reflection off the water painting the wall with dim blue waves.
Din eventually gets his shit together, only just barely. He collects Luke’s robe and puts it on the chair, then busies himself walking the perimeter of the pool deck as Luke splashes beneath him.
When he’s finished, Luke pulls himself from the water in one motion, then tosses his hair back. Din keeps his eyes firmly on Luke’s face as he hands him a blue and white striped towel.
“Thank you,” Luke says, words choppy with his heavy breathing. Din doesn’t quite trust himself to speak at the moment, waiting instead as Luke ties the towel around his waist.
“Just so you know,” Luke comments lightly. “It’s usually bigger than this. Quite a lot if I might add.”
“...What?”
“The water is very cold,” Luke says.
Din’s blinks, and before he can stop himself, his eyes flick to Luke’s crotch, now covered in blue and white terrycloth. In the next second he looks up at Luke’s knowing smile, and his face burns as he stutters out a denial.
“I wasn’t looking at... I mean, I didn’t notice... that.” Din says.
“You didn’t even notice it?” Luke asks with mirth.
Din continues to dig his own grave. “I’m sure it’s... Christ.” He tosses Luke’s robe roughly to him. “Take a fucking shower, you stink of chlorine.”
Luke’s laugh echoes over the pool, and Din loses his words as the reflected lights play over his pale skin. He turns to lead Luke inside, hiding his smile in the process.
“Din,” Luke calls before Din can get too far.
“Yes?” Din asks.
Luke’s smile is slightly apologetic. “That was a bit much, wasn’t it.”
Din struggles for an answer for a moment, then settles on, “What you do in your own house is your own business.”
“Does that include you?” Luke asks cheekily.
“I... um...” Din’s face burns. Christ, he needs to stop this, and stop this now. But Luke is right there, his eyes curious and playful, and Din’s not turning away, Din’s not moving at all.
“I know it’s weird or whatever because my father hired you,” Luke says. “But I’ve never been one for following the rules, you know?”
“I don’t know, Luke,” Din says. “I’m... I don’t know.”
“That’s okay,” Luke says. “You don’t have to know. But don’t run away from me, whatever that answer is.”
Din swallows, and without thinking, he puts his hand to Luke’s cheek. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he finally, finally admits. “The answer.”
Luke grabs Din’s hand in his wrist, the one with the scars, and slowly pulls it away from his face.
“If you have an answer,” Luke says. “Then you know where to find me.” Luke winks. “Not like I can go anywhere without you.”
Din exhales as Luke drops his hand, and goes upstairs.
Din gets restless in the afternoon, unable to sit still in his office. He makes the decision to walk around the house, but even he can’t pretend that he’s not looking for Luke.
Luke is in on the first floor, watching TV while lying on the couch. When Din walks in, he sits up, tucking himself in by the couch cushion.
“You care to join me?” Luke asks.
“Sure,” Din says.
It’s silent for a while. The show is some sort of sitcom, Din’s not sure. He’s never found them very funny.
“Can I ask you a question Din?" Luke says his name so intentionally, it feels like it echoes around the room.
“What is it?” Din responds.
“Do you still have insomnia?”
“I do,” Din says. “Before...” Before Grogu, Din nearly says. “Before, it would go on for weeks. I’d be so sleep deprived I was a miracle I was still functioning.”
“Did you ever figure out why?”
Din folds his hands in his lap. “Not... a hundred percent. I remember, before, I used to have these recurring dreams. Dreams of me slipping, and falling, and never finding the bottom. I think they were so upsetting, I stopped sleeping instead.”
“I’m sorry, Din,” Luke says.
“I don’t have that dream anymore,” Din says.
“What do you dream about now, Mr. Djarin?”
And something in Din’s chest simply snaps.
“What do I dream about now?” Din tone is more rough than he wants it to be, and he’s looks Luke directly in the eye. And perhaps it’s because recently, his dreams, when he has them, have been littered with the man in front of him. On top of him, around him, inside him. Nights waking covered in sweat for entirely different reasons than before.
There’s a little hitch in Luke’s breath before he speaks again. “Y-yes. What do you dream about, now?”
He’s so close Din could smell him, lavender, and vanilla, the same thing Din puts under his nose to help him sleep. Like a dog hearing a bell he can feel himself relax, his body leaning further to the side where Luke has pretzeled his legs.
Din licks his lips, a standard movement that Luke watches like a sin being committed on sacred ground.
“They’ve been different,” Din says.
“How so?”
Din feels the levee groan under the weight of his lust, and his hesitant hands grow bold. He reaches for Luke’s face with his hands, aching to feel that skin beneath his. Luke’s eyes are wide, excited again, holding still like he’s afraid he’ll break the moment, as if he knows Din needs this time to think, to clear his head, to pull away.
Din can’t do this. Din... can’t remember why he can’t do this. Din doesn’t want to remember. He wants to forget.
“Let me show you,” Din growls.
Din pulls Luke’s face forward, Luke folding over himself until he’s on his knees. Luke’s lips are smooth, and taste just barely sweet. He lets out that breathy sigh against Din’s lips, one that makes Din moan almost desperately, his whole body shaking. Luke responds with a flick of his tongue, then licks inside when Din gasps.
Luke crawls forward, bending Din backwards on the wide couch. Luke’s hand is hot on Din’s neck, helping guide him down. That hand digs into his hair, fingers scratching so nicely against his scalp Din gasps again. Din’s heart is pounding furiously in his chest, rushing past his ears as Luke makes the kiss dirtier with each passing second. He’s lost in it, unfocused, Luke unspooling him one kiss at a time.
Luke rests himself on top of Din, and the weight of him alone is enough to get Din to grind his hips. Din’s been hard as a rock since that first whiff of lavender, and his arousal rubs against Luke’s thigh, right where it joins with his hip.
Luke separates, his breathy laugh now husky and low. Din wants to hold him down, and press him into the ground and make him forget everything he’s ever learned.
“Funny,” Luke says. “My dreams go a little like this.”
Luke slots them together, thigh to groin, then rolls. Pleasure shocks through Din, so poignant it hurts. He bucks blindly, grabs at Luke’s back to press him down harder. Luke’s cock is erect, the outline prominent in Luke’s sweats. A firmer press of Din’s thigh has Luke gasping into Din’s face, and he starts an heavy pace, fucking Din’s thigh.
Luke finds his mouth again, swallowing his moans as they rock together, Luke grinding hard enough to push Din up the side of the couch. Din hands find their way down Luke’s back to dip beneath his waistband. He grips the flexing muscles at hard as he can, fingernails digging into the fat on his back, pleasure spiraling higher and higher.
Sweat collects against Luke’s skin as he loses his pace in favor of rutting, their kiss more of a mess of heavy breathes and eager tongues. Din presses up just a tad harder, and Luke whines, something so high and desperate Din knows he’s never forget it, and Luke’s hips stutter against Din’s, then still, his face an expression of pure, unadulterated, bliss.
A moment later he collapses against Din, grinding slowly and firmly into Din’s lifted thigh like he was savoring it.
“Christ,” Din breathes. Luke’s gone boneless against him. Din can still feel the aborted tense and relax of his ass under his hands.
“Mmm...” Luke says. His eyes are lidded now, his smile curled up in satisfaction. “Lemme ask you, Din.”
“Anything,” Din says. At this point. Anything.
Luke pops the button on Din’s jeans. “How do these dreams usually end for you?”
Din swallows as Luke walks himself down Din’s body. Luke’s sweats carry a dark stain on the groin that is getting larger, a line of wetness leaking down his right thigh.
“Usually, when I wake up,” Din says.
“And when you wake up,” Luke works Din’s jeans to his upper thighs. “Are your pants wet?” Luke takes on his thumb, and rubs it up the length of him, and Din wants to sob.
“Y-Yes,” Din chokes out. Luke presses on the head, and the wet spot there expands as Din leaks into his boxers.
“Thinking about me?” Luke finally grabs his waistband and pulls it down, tucking it under Din’s ball sack. He’s so hard, his cock snaps back up to slap his stomach, smearing pre-cum in the hair on his abdomen.
“Always you,” Din admits. “It’s always you.”
Luke takes him all in one go. Din cums, thighs shaking as the levee breaks, shuddering down Luke’s throat.
It only takes a minute for Din to accept the consequences of his actions. He spends that minute with Luke lying between his legs, head pillowed on his chest, both still breathing a little hard. His limbs feels cold, but his chest is warm with Luke on it.
He accepts the consequences. He gave in to Luke, and he probably will give in again, meaning he can’t go back, now. Now the question is, where do they go from here? If this is just for fun, Din would have to decline. Have to replace his position with someone else. He’s too old for that now. If this is serious, then Din needs to tell him about Grogu. Not everyone signs up for a son, and the earlier Din can get that out there, the better.
Hopefully, Din is a good enough judge of character that Luke won’t simply drop him now that he’s gotten what he’s wanted.
After that minute, Luke props his chin on Din’s chest, his hair a mess and his smile content. “Hi,” he says sleepily.
Din snorts, and it jostles Luke’s head, causing them both to laugh.
“Do you want to take a shower?” Luke asks, popping up.
“Yeah,” Din says.
Din showers, feeling loose and lazy for the first time in a long time. When he’s done, he pulls on his dirty clothes, glad, at least, that he doesn’t have wet spots to deal with. He hesitates when he goes by Luke’s bedroom, slows and stops.
He knocks and the door opens immediately. The smile Luke has for him is so gentle, Din feels like he might shatter apart.
“I’m going,” Din says, his voice quiet.
“Shame,” Luke says, tilting his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early.”
Luke leans in to give him a kiss that makes Din’s knees go weak. Din wraps his hands around the back of Luke’s neck, pressing him against the wall outside the door, and returns it until they’re both breathless and panting.
“Goodnight,” Luke says, as Din pulls away.
“Goodnight.”
That night, Din sleeps like a rock.
Din’s work phone wakes him at 0430 the next morning.
“‘jarin”
“Din.”
“Fett?”
“You kid’s in trouble.”
Din’s out of bed, across the hall, and peering into Grogu’s room before his brain catches up to him.
“Oh,” Din whispers. “You meant Luke.”
“... Shit. I just gave you a fucking heart attack didn’t I?”
“Christ, Fett.” Din closes the door. “What happened?”
“How soon can you come in?”
“I can drop Grogu off at morning classes, that brings me in around seven.”
“I’ll fill you in then.”
Chaos greets Din as he pulls up outside. The police have roped off the driveway, to the house, and were spread out on the small lawn. He half jogs in the house, looking for Fett.
“Luke?” Is Din’s first word when he finds Fett.
“He’s fine,” Fett says. “Tougher than he looks.”
“What happened?”
“Someone jumped the fence,” Fett says as they walk into the house. Din immediately searches for Luke.
“Who was on guard that night?” Din says. His voice is harsher than he expected, but he doesn’t care.
“Dune,” Fett says. He’s giving Din a raised eyebrow.
“And where the fuck was she?” Din snaps, feeling haywire.
“Dealing with the two others who jumped the fence on each side,” Fett says.
“Fuck,” Din mutters. “Where is Luke.”
“Downstairs,” Fett says. “You know... you seem very worried for him.”
Din doesn’t respond, instead going down the stairs.
Luke is lying on his back on the couch, looking tired but otherwise unharmed, and Anakin Skywalker is pacing around the living room with the fury of two suns. All of Din’s instincts want to go to hover over Luke, ask him if he’s okay, hold him close, but with Anakin present, he stops himself short. Fett disappears back up the steps, leaving Din to deal with the aftermath of this mess.
“This is gone on long enough.” Anakin continues. “Clearly, the police don’t know what they’re doing. I’m just about ready to take matters into my own hands. This is more than a stalker. This is a systematic attack on the Amidala-Skywalker name!”
“Dad,” Luke says tiredly. “That’s a bit much, yeah?”
“Djarin.” Anakin says sharply. Din snaps to attention. “Your security person, she was able to incapacitate two of the attackers.”
“Correct.”
“But in doing so, she left Luke vulnerable to the third. We are lucky they only wanted to leave another one of those asinine ‘gifts’.”
“I can defend myself you know,” Luke complains to the ceiling. Anakin ignores him.
“So for now on,” Anakin points a firm finger at Din. “You are going to stay here around the clock.”
“What do you mean?” Din asks.
“There’s more than enough space for you to move in,” Anakin says. “You can have whoever you want rotating out for security, I don’t want my son alone for a damned second. I’ll pay whatever incidentals and extra fees are associated.”
Luke sits up fast. “That’s total overkill!” He says. “Not to mention unethical! Din shouldn’t need to be on guard 24/7, and you can’t ask that of him.”
“I can ask whatever I want of whomever I want when it comes to my family,” Anakin nearly shouts. His voice brokers no argument. Din tries anyway.
“I’m not able to work nights,” Din says calmly. There’s no way he could leave Grogu that long. He’s already cutting it close as it is. “But I assure you that any other Mando--”
“Not any,” Anakin says. “You. You’ll be at my son’s side no matter what. I asked for the best, I got the best.”
Din swallows hard, looking between Luke and Anakin quickly.
“Is that a problem?” Anakin asks. His tone is low and dark, the kind of voice that takes no shit.
“I have a son,” Din says.
Luke's eyes snap to his, filled with genuine surprise and confusion. How can those words, after such a short time with Luke, feel like a confession?
“I can’t leave him during the night,” Din says. “There’s no way I’ll leave him.”
“A... son.” Anakin pauses in his pacing for the first time since Din’s arrived. He looks like he’s run into a brick wall, as if Din having a family and a life was something he didn’t consider at all.
Din nods. “He needs me.”
“Well... could he also stay?” Luke asks.
It’s Din’s turn to be surprised. An unstable hope blooms in his chest.
Anakin doesn’t seem to be expecting the offer, either. His eyes look at his son for a long moment as the question lingers in the air.
“I wouldn’t want to impose.” Din says to Luke, hesitatingly. “He’s very young.”
“I don’t mind,” Luke says softly. “The house is so quiet otherwise. And I like kids. Love them. How old is he?”
“Six.”
“That’s a good age,” Luke smiles. Din can feel Anakin’s eyes on him now, piercing into the side of his skull. Din’s had worse.
“Don’t let me be the reason you don’t consider it,” Luke says. He’s gentle, he’s understanding, and Din can barely stand it.
“I’ll have to see what he thinks,” Din says. Luke’s smile is unwavering. He turns on the couch toward Din.
“A son,” Luke repeats to himself, a bit of wonder in his voice. “What’s his name?”
“Grogu.”
“Unique,” Luke says. “Just like his father.”
“I think it’s--”
“You’re his father,” Anakin’s voice shatters the air between the two of them. “What of his mother?”
His tone is as curt as it was before, but Luke’s stiffening to his side had him on mild alert.
“I... adopted him,” Din says. It’s more that Grogu found him, toddling around a burned out house with nothing but a blanket in his hand. As if Din didn’t dig his way out of hell for him, as if the child didn’t save Din from himself.
“Does he have another father, then?” Anakin asks pointedly. Din clenches his teeth.
“Dad,” Luke snaps. “You can’t ask that. Din, you don’t--”
“It’s just me.”
Anakin’s lips thin. “I see.”
“I’ll have to ask what Grogu thinks before I say yes to this proposal,” Din repeats his earlier statement, to get them back on task.
For a moment, Anakin looks ready to swell up in argument again, but suddenly, he relaxes. “That’s acceptable. I’ll hear your answer within a day. Any longer, and I assume you’ve decided to go with the plan of another round the clock security guard for my son. If so, I’ll continue to hire you to protect my son.” Anakin then gives Luke a look that makes him visibly shrink in size.
“Yes, sir,” Din says.
“Take the rest of the day off,” Anakin says. “Be with your child.”
“Thank you, sir.” The dismissal is barely out of Anakin’s mouth before Din leaves.
With nothing left for it, Din goes home. He calls Ms. Charlotte to cancel, then prepares a cooler with some of the leftover corn and a few other snacks.
In the afternoon, he picks his son up from school. Grogu lights up like the sun when he sees Din waiting for him outside the doors, and runs into his arms. His expression is enough to make Din forget everything that’s gone wrong.
He takes his son to the beach, lets him eat some french fries and play with puddles the ocean has washed ashore. They build a small castle, and Grogu creates a world of his own with it. Little sand people live in the castle, and are trying to fight a monster (Din) but before he can get there, Grogu fights them back with his superpowers. They play until the oceans washes away the castle, then Grogu throws a tantrum that gets a few pitying looks from fellow parents. Din satisfies him with an ice pop, and wipes his sticky hands when they get back in the car.
Grogu’s worn out from the beach, yet he doesn’t want to fall asleep quite yet, so Din sets him up with crayons and paper, and starts them both dinner. Grogu talks about a friend he made at the cookout, a boy named Finn who rides bikes without training wheels. Seeing the older boy ride without them has probably caused Grogu to want to emulate him. After this job, Din will have to take Grogu to a parking lot somewhere so he can learn to ride.
Din’s mixing taco seasoning with ground turkey in one pan and flipping a tortilla on another when his phone rings, so he doesn’t have a chance to read the caller ID when he touches his ear to pick it up.
“Djarin.”
“Din?”
Din stirs too hard, and splashes himself with grease. He swears a litany of words, to the child’s shrieking delight.
“You know,” Luke says. “I get this reaction more often than I’d like. Something about troublemaking.”
Grogu holds up five fingers, and Din sighs. He pulls the tortilla from the pan, then digs in his pocket for five dollars to shove into the swear jar on the kitchen counter. Two more, and Grogu gets another ice cream cone. “You would be a troublemaker, wouldn’t you.”
“I’ll have you know I was a pleasure to have in class,” Luke says. “Or, you know, just a pleasure to have. That gets a lot of swearing from you too, if I r--”
“Luke,” Din says weakly. He can’t. Not now.
It’s quiet for a moment. Din takes the time to put the last tortilla in the pan and pull the meat off the fire.
“So, we can’t do this anymore?” Luke asks quietly.
“I’m with my son right now,” Din says.
“Ah,” Luke says. “How is Grogu?”
Curiosity layers over the disappointment. Din smiles slightly into the phone.
“He’s hungry. We’re sitting down to eat.”
“Right, then, I’ll be quick.” Luke says. “I need you to know that I meant it when you could bring your son over to stay. He is welcome at the house, and so are you. I... don’t want you to have to worry about my behavior when your son is around. If this means choosing between having you as a friend, and as something more, I’d take the former in a heartbeat, if it meant I got to keep you in my life.”
Din looks over a Grogu, who’s trying to shovel the cheese Din’s shredded into a bowl, and is only getting about a third of it in.
“Furthermore, if you ever felt like I was pressuring you into a sexual relationship, then I want to formally apologize, and I’m willing to accept the consequences of my actions. I, uh, wasn’t thinking. Sometimes I just get caught up in... well. When I saw you were interested, I was so excited about it, hell, excited about the fact you were even interested in men, that I didn’t think about how my position of power over you could make your life more difficult.”
Din collects his son and points him towards the step-stool by the sink. He crouches on the ground, and starts to pile the dropped cheese into his palm.
“I didn’t think about how hard that could make your life, having to worry about advances from your employer as you do your job. I want to make sure that you know that you have no obligation towards me in any capacity other than the one you were hired to give.”
“I have to go now,” Din says, pouring the fallen cheese into the trash. His hands are shaking, and he shoves them in his pockets like he could hide them from himself. Is that what this was? No. It couldn’t be.
Luke takes a deep, steadying breath, like it's the first one he’s had since that phone call has begun. “Right.”
Din swallows. “Thank you for saying this.” He means that, at least.
“Of course, Din.” Luke’s tone is soft.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Din pulls to a stop in the Skywalker garage the next morning. Stares at the concrete wall in front of him. Doesn’t move.
“Daddy...” Grogu whines from his booster seat. Din pulled him from class today in preparation for the temporary move. He still can’t believe he’s doing this.
“It’ll be fine,” Din says. “This will be fine.”
Outside of the car, Luke’s already waiting in the garage door entryway. He’s visibly tense, smiling hesitantly at Din, dressed in a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants.
“So,” Din says without preamble. “You father gave you a talking to about fucking the staff?”
Luke’s face breaks into a smile, and he visibly relaxes.
“It was mortifying.” Luke moans, leaning dramatically against the wall. “He kept asking me all these questions, what we did, who you were... it felt like senior prom all over again.”
“Wouldn’t know,” Din shrugs.
“I meant every word of what I said. On the phone last night,” Luke says.
“Luke--”
“No, Din, I... I really like you. Your company. I’m not usually a one and done guy. I feel the way I behaved was... well okay, maybe that is how I usually act around people I find attractive, but I don’t want you to think that I’m... what I’m trying to say is. If you want to maybe... get to know each other. I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
“My son comes with me,” Din says. “We are a package deal. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but you need to know that.”
“I know. I want to meet him.” Luke looks over his shoulder, like he can see Grogu kicking his feet behind the tinted windows.
Din takes a deep, steadying breath. “I trust you,” he says. The words are more for himself, but Luke straightens up and nods, seriously.
Din finally lets Grogu out. Grogu looks around the garage like it's a whole new planet.
“Grogu, this is Mr. Luke,” Din says, steering him towards the garage door.
“Hi Mr. Luke,” Grogu says.
“Hi Grogu,” Luke grins. “You don’t have to call me--”
“Yes,” Din says firmly. “He does.”
Luke gives Din an incredulous look, but doesn’t press the issue. “Awesome. Can I show you to your room?”
“Okay,” Grogu says.
Luke walks him upstairs, and Din follows with a bag in each hand. Grogu’s room is catty corner to Din’s, and Din’s surprised at how nice it is. Green walls, a twin sized bed with race car sheets, a computer set up in the corner on a desk. There’s a wall of windows that expose the ocean to him.
“This is set up for my nephew,” Luke says. “Just in case Leia and Han want to use the house. Ben’s a bit older, but there’s nothing here that will hurt Grogu.”
“Do you like the room?” Din asks Grogu.
“Yeah!” Grogu says. He’s already climbed on the bed, and is standing on top to look at action figures posed on the shelf.
“No standing on the bed,” Din says. “Get down, and tell Luke thank you.”
“Thank you Mr. Luke,” Grogu says, sitting down on the bed. “Can I watch the tablet now?”
Din sighs. “Let me unpack, first.”
Luke leaves them to get settled, and Din gives Grogu the rules of the house. Don’t go out of his room with Din’s permission, don’t go to the backyard without Din’s permission, basically, don’t do anything without Din’s permission. Din is fully prepared to keep Grogu out of Luke’s sight should Luke prefer it, but when he goes downstairs, Luke announces that he’s taking them both to the park.
It turns out Luke’s bought about half a toy store just to see what Grogu might like, and they sort through them all in the garage. Grogu still doesn’t understand entirely what’s happening, just that he suddenly has a new place to explore and a bucket of toys to choose from, so he’s brimming with excitement. To Luke’s immense happiness, Grogu announces that he wants to play with the soccer ball.
Din drives them to the park, looking in the back seat as Luke plays a game with Grogu on his phone, Grogu kicking his feet in the booster seat. At the park, Luke immediately starts to teach Grogu how to kick the ball with the side of his foot, and the three of them pass the ball around in a wobbly triangle. Din feels strangely like he wants to cry.
Afterward, Grogu wants to play on the playground, so they Luke and Din watch him out of the corner of their eyes, relaxing on the bench.
“You’re good with him,” Din admits.
“I like kids,” Luke says. “And he’s a good kid. You’ve taught him well.”
Din snorts.
“I’m serious! He’s polite for a six year old,” Luke says. “Learns fast.”
“He lies all the time these days,” Din says. “I’m lucky he’s so bad at it.”
“Oh man, Ben did that too. You know he pretended that he didn’t eat the last of the cake for his birthday once? Even though his tongue was bright green from the frosting.”
Din laughs. “Grogu did that with your brownies.”
“He liked them?” Luke asks. He’s so excited about the prospect of Grogu liking something he made, just like he was at sharing a love of soccer with him. He’s looking at Grogu, who is currently talking to a boy on the playground, with complete awe, and Din realizes that things are going to be okay.
After that, things move on. There’s now the added complexity that someone else was in Din’s security room, and Din had his own bedroom. Most of the time the day guard was a Mando recruit, someone who didn’t quite take on the larger contracts but could use the experience.
One of the other changes Luke’s taken to yoga in his own room. It makes Din’s chest hurt a bit, but without the extra thick layer of sexual tension over everything like a cloud, he feels more at ease.
Oh, and Grogu absolutely adores Luke. And it’s melting Din’s heart into soup.
Luke’s pushed his run back so Din can make the commute to school, so they are at the juice bar for lunch time when Luke starts complaining about how his limited schedule is causing his workouts to be less intense.
“I feel like I’m plateauing,” Luke whines between sips of his sewage water smoothie. “I’m out of practice with everything, and I feel so off center. I’m pretty limited in my choices right now.”
“What about fighting?”
“The stalker found my MMA gym, and I’ve been banned,” Luke says miserably.
“They banned you?”
“My Dad did.”
Din frowns. “...How old are you?”
“Hey,” Luke snaps. “Look. Dad and I didn’t really have a good relationship when I was growing up. After I got home from overseas, I was in a really bad place, and I think that frightened him. That he was going to lose me. So now it’s a bit of a pendulum swing in the other direction, which gets overwhelming, but... I like it. I like that he cares so much. So yeah maybe it’s a little odd that a grown man is so locked down by his father, but it’s good for him, and for me.”
“Sorry,” Din says after Luke finishes his speech. “That was rude of me. I truly didn’t mean any offense.”
“It’s alright,” Luke deflates a bit. “I get a lot of shit about this. The news, you know. They all say I’m spoiled, that the family is too close. But really, I’m struggling, or at least I was, recently, and my parents are there for me in some form or fashion, and that’s all that matters.”
“I get advice about Grogu all the time,” Din admits. Snide comments. Dismissive gestures. Pity. “And it gets to me, sometimes.”
“I firmly believe that if you love your child, do the best you can, then everything else will work itself out,” Luke says.
Din looks away for a moment, feeling a sense of relief roll over him. His eyes prickle, and he waits for the desert heat to dry them up.
It’s quiet for a moment, then Din asks, “You used to do sword fighting, right?”
Luke gives Din a look, and Din chuckles. “Not like that. I’ve trained in weapons, and we have practice props at the office,” Din says. “And I have some more intense things in my storage. We could put some mats down outside if you’d like.”
“You’d spar with me?” Luke says. There’s a thread of challenge in his voice, a thread of excitement.
“It might cut through the monotony a bit,” Din says. “And... I haven’t had the chance to thrash someone in a while.”
“Oh, you’re on Din,” Luke smirks, the sadness from before covered up.
“We’ll stop by the office on the way back,” Din says.
It only takes a few minutes for Din to swing by his office and pull the required materials, and Din leaves Luke in the car as Din loads it up.
Fett’s there with Fennec, and they both ask him what the fuck he’s doing, but Din says to for them to mind their damn business. Fennec laughs, but Fett asks if this has something to do with Luke, and Din simply doesn’t say a word, feeling his gaze burning into his neck.
They lay the mats out in the backyard during the evening when Grogu is distracted by the television, and Din lays out some ground rules for their fighting. He’s been trained in a lot of different types, and Luke’s probably only had the basics, so he wants to be clear about what’s expected. Luke, for one, is incredibly excited, bouncing on his toes.
Luke’s rusty, but he’s actually a very good fighter. For one he has a flexibility that allows him to execute moves Din’s not dealt with on an opponent before, which Luke uses to acquire an advantage, leaving Din on the defensive.
They fight so long they have to stop and rest. Din’s arms are starting to ache with blocking Luke’s kicks, a few bruises already forming on his brown skin.
Luke’s decided to take off his shirt, which is definitely playing dirty, and Din tells him as such.
“How’s it playing dirty?” Luke asks. “I’m using what I got.”
Well. Two can play at that game.
Din drops his water bottle, and pulls his shirt over his head. He doesn’t have abs, and he never has, and never will, but his body is solid and powerful and he’s proud of it. It’s an added bonus that Luke loses his breath, eyes glazing over as he catches an eyeful of Din’s chest. It’s nice to know he’s still got it.
“Ready?” Din asks, feeling cheeky.
Din beats Luke a few more times in hand to hand, each time a solid fight to the finish. Luke’s technique is wobbly, but his form is solid, if a little un-creative compared to Din. Sure, Luke trained as a soldier, but Din trained as a Ranger. There skills were not matched.
Not until Luke grabs the practice swords, wooden things that deal mild hits, and absolutely destroys Din.
Din’s learned how to fight with sticks, staffs, anything he can get his hands on, really, but he doesn’t have the fine tuning to any of his techniques that Luke has. Luke is so fluid with the sword it’s a distraction, Luke seeming to know where Din was going to go before he got there.
After Din is disarmed for the umpteenth time, Din yields, and they both collapse onto the blue mat, staring at the sky.
“You, with that sword.” Din says between pants. “You are incredible.”
“Thanks. Been a long time,” Luke says.
“That makes me feel better,” Din mutters.
Luke turns to his side, smiling. “Hey, you beat me hand to hand, that means something.”
Din simply grunts.
“You also play dirty,” Luke says. “Such a distraction.”
“I’m the distraction?” Din points out.
“Yes, actually.” Luke says. “I’ve fought people without shirts before. I’ve fought people ass naked before.”
Din’s eyebrows raise.
“I’ll tell you that story later,” Luke grins. “I’m very comfortable in my own skin, and nothing more.”
“You don’t say,” Din says.
“I guess I’m trying to say I don’t usually find nakedness to be sexual,” Luke says. “Nor fighting, either. But you just show a hint of skin, and have my brain scrambled up. I feel like I’m in the Victorian era.”
“Good to know I’m immune to ‘nudity not being a sexual’ rule.”
“So, apparently, am I,” Luke grins. “Which, by the way, you know I typically swim naked, right? That wasn’t just for your benefit.”
Din snorts.
“I’m serious! I prefer to feel the water against my skin as I swim. I usually practice yoga naked too,” Luke says. “But I figured that might break your brain.”
“It... may have, just now,” Din murmurs.
Luke laughs.
“You like cars, right? Let me show you something.”
It’s after lunch the next day, and Luke is more or less dragging Din to the garage. He leads him to the covered car all the way at the end, and lifts the tarps with a flourish. Din’s learning that the Skywalkers seem to like adding drama to every move.
He points to a pearly white Volkswagen Rabbit. Din can’t quite place the year, but if he had to guess, it was early 80s. The car was a small four seater convertible with a bench seat in the back.
“I found her abandoned on the side of the road,” Luke says proudly. “Fixed her up myself.”
“It suits you,” Din says.
“Thanks! I... think. Anyway, I got this when I was 17 and living on that farm for the summer.” Luke says. “Whole thing’s now replacement parts, and sometimes she complains about going up a hill, but she runs like a beauty and she’s mine,” Luke says. “Hop in!”
The door makes a satisfying creak when the door opens, and the seat is surprisingly comfortable for such a compact car. It’s clearly well loved, seats clean and worn leather.
Luke turns the key, the car shudders, coughs, and dies.
“Like a beauty,” Din says.
“Shut up,” Luke says. “Hell. Hold on.”
A minute later has Luke bent under the hood, muttering to himself about loose connections.
“This is what I get for fixing up a metric car in America,” Luke mutters. “Whoever had this last kept putting in screws that aren’t metric, and I keep finding them all over the place, it’s so frustrating. Let me tell you - there is nothing--” Luke twists his screwdriver. “I hate more,” he grunts, tightening again. “Than the imperial system.”
“Never been a fan of the imperial system,” Din agrees.
Luke stands up and shuts the hood with a snap. “Alright. Let’s try again.”
The engine complains at first, but runs smoothly after Luke coaxes it. It’s impressive, the sound that comes out of the car. Luke fills up with pride as it runs smoothly, then turns to Din with a ‘see, look what I did’ expression.
They take a short drive around the neighborhood, then Luke pulls them back into the garage. Then, Luke turns off the car and asks Din if he can show him the backseat.
Din’s so daft, he actually thinks Luke just wants to show him. It takes Luke pushing him down and lying on top of him to realize that he had a much more nefarious purpose.
“I really do like your stubble,” Luke murmurs, kissing up Din’s jaw, his weight a welcome presence.
“You’d probably like it better between your thighs,” Din murmurs.
Luke gasps and looks up. “Din Djarin, are you dirty talking?”
“I’m full of surprises,” Din says dryly. “Shut up and come up here.”
Din pushes his tongue into Luke’s mouth and puts his hand on Luke’s ass, and they neck in too small backseat like teenagers. Luke’s thigh has nestled itself against Din’s cock, the minutes blending together.
“I wish I brought lube,” Din mutters when the pressure in pants gets too tight.
“So, about that...” Luke grins, and digs into a wall compartment. He pulls out a half full bottle of lube.
Din snorts. “You bring your dates back here?”
“Nope,” Luke says, tracing Din’s chest. “Just you.”
Din’s chest feels warm. “So all that lube--”
“Me fucking myself in the backseat,” Luke says as he cracks the top of the bottle.
Din groans at the mental image.
“For a few reasons. Mostly because I shared a room through most my teenage years, and this was the most privacy I could get on the farm, though...” Luke’s eyes get lidded. “Don’t know if you know, but I got a bit of a thing for exhibitionism.”
“You don’t say,” Din croaks.
They reorient, pulling off each other’s shirts and pants and attacking each other again. Din tries to kick off his boxers, getting distracted as Luke bites down on his nipple. Din retaliates by not letting up on Luke’s neck as he wriggles out his own.
“I have always, always, always,” Luke says as he grinds against Din, bare skin against bare skin for the first time. “Wanted to fuck someone on this seat.”
“Now’s your chance,” Din says, and to hammer his point home, wraps his legs around Luke’s back.
Luke’s eyes boil over with lust.
“I don’t need prep,” Din says, “Just you. Nice and slow.”
“You sure?” Luke asks, dubiously.
“Been sticking things up there for 15 years. I know what I like.”
“Fair enough.”
It takes a moment for Luke to roll the condom down his cock, then another to slick himself up. Luke’s lubed cock presses against Din’s opening, and he leans over, looking directly into Din’s eyes as he starts to push. Din grunts when the head pops in, and tilts his head back against the leather seat. Luke finger stroke his face, moving a curl of hair out of the way. Luke slides an inch into him, then back out, moving glacially as Din flexes his muscles around him. Din prefers it like this, being opened up on his lover's cock, falling apart under Luke’s watchful eye.
“How is this?” Luke asks.
“Perfect,” Din whispers. “Fuck. God...”
“You feel so good,” Luke says. “So... t-tight...”
“Harder,” Din says. “Please, harder.”
Luke moans and moves faster, inching more and more of his cock in and out of Din’s body. Din encourages him between quiet gasps, guiding his pace until Luke is rocking the car on its axles.
“Like that... Just like that...” Din gasps. Luke moans and goes back down to Din’s neck, biting more than kissing whatever skin he can find.
“Luke--” Din stutters. “God. I’m... ” He reaches for the back of the seat, sweaty fingers against tan leather, the other on Luke’s hip like he needs more proof of what Luke’s doing to him.
His prostate starts to sing, and so does the metal of the door under Luke’s hands as he rocks into him.
“I’m close,” Din says. “H-ah--”
“Do you need a hand?”
“Keep going, and I won’t,” Din gasps. “Fuck, fuck, oh, Luke, yes...”
Din arches and cums between them both, his mind going white and his nerves catching fire. He tries to catch his breath and fails, and hears Luke swear, feels his hips stutter inside of Din.
Din strokes whatever part of Luke he could touch as Luke shakes through his own orgasm, lips forming Din’s name into Din’s neck.
“As good as you expected?” Din asks.
“Oh yeah,” Luke mumbles. “A bit cramped though.”
Din chuckles. “We aren’t teenagers anymore.”
“No,” Luke grins. “I guess not.”
Dinner is loud in the house now, with Grogu having a thousand things to share about school, and Luke encouraging every word out of his mouth. Din’s never been much of a conversationalist, trying instead to encourage Grogu to talk, but Luke loves filling silences with his own stories. It’s enjoyable to be in a place with so much sound, where no one expects him to say a word.
Din puts Grogu to bed that night, then kisses Luke goodnight outside his bedroom. He stays awake a little longer, chatting with the Mando in the security room, running a short workout, then going to stare at the waves outside.
The sky is unusually tumultuous, dark gray and brooding. The weather predicted a much needed rain was coming, but it looks like the rain was coming in the form of a very rare thunderstorm.
When the first lightning strikes, Din feels a prickling under his skin. When the thunder sounds, echoing loudly over the cliffs, he knows he needs to check on his son.
On the way up the stairs, the power goes out.
Grogu’s not in bed, nor is he under the bed, just as Din dreads. Din finally finds him curled into a ball in the closet, head buried between his legs.
“Grogu...” Din says. “Come here. Please.”
Grogu curls himself into Din’s arms, but he protests wildly when Din tries to take him out of the closet.
“Okay, okay, we’ll stay here,” Din says. “You’re safe, I promise, you’re safe.”
Lightning strikes, and thunder follows. Grogu starts to wail.
Din shushes him, allowing Grogu to let it out. Grogu doesn’t cry very often, so the sound of it shakes Din to his core. Din continues to rock him in his arms in the closet, whispering to him that he’s safe here.
Din hears Luke’s footsteps, cautiously approaching the bedroom. He catches sight of both of them fairly quickly, and stands awkwardly in the doorway. “I heard crying...” he says slowly, looking for the first time like he doesn’t know if he belongs here.
Lightning strikes outside the window, and Din preemptively squeezes Grogu tighter as the thunder follows, ferocious. Grogu’s cries begin, tucking his face into Din’s neck. Din shushes him, rocking him in his arms, gesturing over Grogu’s shoulder for Luke to join them. Luke takes the invitation, crossing his legs on the closet floor next to them, waiting with Din for Grogu’s cries to taper off. Luke places a hand on Din’s knee, and Din puts his hand on top of his.
“The basement is soundproof,” Luke says over Grogu’s sniffles. “No windows, either. Will that help?”
Din nods. “Hey Grogu, did you hear that? In the basement it’s quiet. We can go there, but it means we have to leave the closet.”
“No!” Grogu shouts. “We don’t leave.”
“Please, Grogu,” Din nearly begs. He feels so powerless here, unable to help. “It’s safe down there. I promise.”
Grogu shakes his head again.
“Hey Grogu,” Luke whispers. “I know it’s dangerous up here, and the closet feels safe. But the safest place is for us to all go downstairs.”
Grogu shakes his head. “It’s not safe.”
Din looks at Luke desperately. Luke looks between the two of them, then asks, “Why isn’t it safe?”
“It’s loud,” Grogu says. “Bright lights. It means it's dangerous.”
“I’ll keep you safe,” Din insists, “Please, Grogu.” But Grogu shakes his head.
“It’s safer in the basement,” Luke says. “Why don’t you want to go down there?”
“Because Daddy’ll have to go outside, first,” Grogu says.
“Outside the closet?” Din asks, not understanding.
Luke seems to understand what Grogu is saying, because he asks, softly, “Why are you scared of Daddy going outside, Grogu?”
“Because when the lights happen, and the sounds happen, Daddy leaves me, and then he dies.”
Din’s entire body goes numb. He stares at Luke, horrified.
“I don’t want Daddy to die again,” his son whispers.
Din swallows hard, Luke holding his hand over his own mouth, like he’s trying not to cry.
“Daddy isn’t going to die, Grogu,” Din says.
“How do you know?” Grogu whispers back.
Din is so horrified by the revelation of his son’s past, that he doesn’t know how to answer. They’d been approaching his therapy all wrong. If Grogu’s fear wasn’t for him, but for his previous father, and now for Din himself, then convincing Grogu that he himself would be safe was the wrong choice. Din needed to convince Grogu that Din would be safe. Grogu is worrying about him. This whole time, Grogu wanted Din to be safe, not... not...
“I’ll keep your Daddy safe, Grogu,” Luke says, jolting Din back to the present. His voice is thick, but steady. “This is my house. If we stay together, and stay low, then I can get your Daddy downstairs.”
Grogu looks over to Luke as if he’s sizing the other man up.
“I’m a fighter too, like you father,” Luke says. “I was in the military. I’m really strong.”
Grogu does another once over of Luke, then nods. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Din asks. “Just like that?”
“He’ll keep you safe,” Grogu says, tugging on Din’s shirt. “Come on.”
Together they stand up from the closet. By some force beyond them all, lightning doesn’t strike as Luke takes them down the three stories to the surprisingly bland basement. There’s only a couch, a television across from it, and a covered pool table. The sofa extends out into a bed, and Luke sets it up for the three of them.
He starts squirming in his arms, so Din lets him down on the soft ground, where he crawls onto the bed. They all end up sitting next to one another, back against the couch cushions. It only takes a few minutes of silence for Grogu to calm down, and another for him to fall asleep, plastered against Din’s leg.
Din feels worn out, feels like he’s aged ten years in the last five minutes. Luke tucks himself into Din’s side for silent support, and Din feels it all bubble up, the fear, the stress, the pain of the last few years.
“I found him on a mission,” Din whispers to the basement. Luke nods against his shoulder, listening. ”A... A lot of things happened on that mission.” Din chuckles hollowly. That’s one way to put it. “I was injured, lying in the remains of a house in West Africa, wondering if I had the energy to make it, and this child just... toddles over to me. Crawls under the bed with me, and cuddles into my chest. There was a war going on outside, bullets firing every few minutes, but he didn’t react when he heard something. Like destruction had just been his whole life.
“I couldn’t let him go. I couldn’t leave him, either. Finding him, it gave me this... desperate kind of energy. I had to look out for him, get him home. But I couldn’t find hide nor hair of his family. No one knew who he was, where he belonged. When I tried to leave him with the village, they told me he had started calling me the village word for ‘father,’ and therefore, according to their creed, that he was mine. So I insisted on taking him home with me. He’s been in therapy since I’ve got him here, and it’s helped him come out of his shell. But loud noises, and bright lights frighten him. The first time there was a storm, I found him hiding under his bed with his hands over his neck. And he didn’t even cry, Luke. He saw me, and slid over for me to come join him. His instincts are to protect himself from mortar fire. He’s six.”
“I can’t even imagine,” Luke whispers.
“And now. And now I realize this whole time, every one of his attacks I’ve failed to manage properly because it wasn’t himself he was worried about, it was me, because his own father probably left him to fight and never came home. How can I... Luke, How can I...” Din’s voice goes thick, trailing off. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m afraid that everything I’ve been doing is a mistake...”
“It’s okay, Din,” Luke says.
“I worry about him every day,” Din says. “Every second of every day. He’s everything to me.”
“He’s lucky to have you,” Luke says. Din finally pulls his eyes from Grogu’s sleeping form to meet Luke’s eyes.
“Thank you,” Din whispers.
“For... what?”
“For being so good with him. For taking us in.” Din leans in very slowly, letting his forehead gently touch against Luke’s. “I wouldn’t have found out about this part of his trauma without you. You calmed him down. You got him here. You... Thank you for you.”
“Din...” Luke breathes. Din closes his eyes, and inhales, and smells a little bit of lavender.
“Luke,” Din says, then he moves, pressing his lips against Luke’s in a chaste kiss.
Luke tilts his head into it. They kiss again, and again, then Luke pulls away just a fraction.
“I don’t want to go down this route if it means I’m going to risk losing you,” Din whispers. There’s so much more, now, between them, so much more at a stake, so much further to fall.
“You won’t. Not if I can help it.”
They go to lie in peace. Din’s nearly falling asleep, Luke’s head against his chest, when something about the situation clicks.
“What’s wrong?”
“This place has two back up generators,” Din says.
“But the power’s not coming back on,” Luke realizes.
Din goes from lethargic to alert in an instant, a holdover from his Army days.
“Stay down here with Grogu,” Din says, making a plan in his head.
“I can help!” Luke protests. “I’m not useless.”
“I know,” Din says. “You’re a skilled fighter. Which is why I need you to stay with my son. I trust you to protect him.”
Luke nods, understanding instantly. “What to do you need me to do?”
“How many entrances are there to the basement?”
“Just the door we came in,” Luke says.
“No windows?”
“No.”
“Good. Lock it or bar it behind me. If someone knocks, ask them for a password, password is Grogu, okay?”
“Got it.”
“Let’s move.”
With Luke secure, the first goal is to get to the security room on the second floor.
The open floor plan makes it impossible to hide really. Din comes out by the kitchen and keeps himself low, listening carefully. Rain pelts the house still, but Din can’t hear a thing.
He creeps to the staircase, but doesn’t go up. The sound from outside is much more clear upstairs with the open backyard. He pauses, waiting for something to give any intruders away.
There’s a few minutes of silence, then Din hears a small noise, the sound of metal against ceramic.
“Quiet!” A voice whispers frantically. More than one, then.
Din doesn’t have a gun, but he doesn’t need one. He takes a deep breath, then focuses. Grogu and Luke are depending on him. He creeps up the steps.
There’s a moment where they don’t notice him, which is all the time he needs to catalog the threat. There are three on this floor, all in black hoodies and pants, clearly amateur. No obvious weapons, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any.
Din stands.
He dispatches them in minutes, knocking the first one out cold with a punch, then slamming his fingertips into the other throat, spinning, then punching the air out of the third one’s chest. They go down without a single sound but the heavy noise they make when they hit the ground. Din knocks them out cold, then ties them up with twist ties from the security room, leaving them in the front closet so they don’t make a sound. From there he gets to the security room.
It takes him only a minute to learn what happened. During the power outage in the storm, there were a few minutes where the power was out and the backup generators hadn’t started on. It must have been a move of opportunity, as the intruder ran over from the neighbors house and cut the lines to the generators with a heavy duty tool.
Din tracks five, no, six intruders that made their way onto the property in the next fifteen minutes. Without the lights on, they could creep through the open backyard and into the second floor. Din once again curses the layout of the house.
Six, minus three, equals three more. Given the obsession with Luke, Din could guess that the goal was to get to him, and help the leader make good on her threats. The thought of that makes Din sick to his stomach, and he uses that to fuel his anger.
At least knowing Luke now, with this level of lack-of-sophistication Luke likely could have dealt with them handedly. He wonders if it’s Luke’s demeanor that causes people to underestimate him. He also wonders if the man does it on purpose.
Upstairs, the hallways are empty. The carpet is soft enough for Din’s steps to be next to silent, and so he hears the minor commotion from the bedroom. Whispered voices, some raised, arguing over one another, surprised that Luke isn’t here.
“I told you!” A male voice says. “Not here!”
“Well, where is he?” A female voice asks back. “You told me he would be here. I wouldn’t have made the pilgrimage if he wasn’t here! It’s destiny!”
“I’m sorry my Queen,” A male voice says, and Din raises an eyebrow. This shit is weird.
“Find him, both of you, if you ever want to sleep inside again!”
Din takes this as he cue to back up and slip into Grogu’s bedroom. It takes less than a minute, before two figures run out of the room. Din waits for one to run past, then grabs the other as he goes by, striking his throat to knock the breath out of him, then punching him twice in the stomach to keep him silent.
The man in front notices quickly, but not quickly enough to react before Din slams his fist into his cheek, and another to his throat as well. He rotates on one leg and kicks the first one in the face, then strikes the second one again with his wrist, knocking them both to the ground.
“What was that?” A voice cries from the bedroom. Din plasters his back against the wall and side steps to Luke’s room. He knows he has the element of surprise left, and he doesn’t count on her to be any more of a threat than any of the others. He waits patiently, then hears her huff, hears her stalk angrily towards the door.
Din turns at just the right time.
The woman startles immediately, then shouts, “Who the hell are you?”
Din knocks her out in a single clean punch.
After a brief discussion with the police, another with Luke’s parents, and another with Fett, the case is wrapped in the next day. In that time, Din feels like he hasn’t had a moment alone with Luke. Luke’s father thanks him for his work, then makes a point to inform him that he’s no longer under his payroll. Even the Senator is able to make an appearance, a smartly dressed woman with very, very long hair, who hugs Luke close, then hugs Din as well.
At the police station, Luke’s stalker folds like a stack of cards, and she gives up everything, even more information that Din wished he knew. He’d gotten a copy of the file from his sources at the police department, and when everyone had finally left, he’d sat with Luke and read the report. Grogu’s luckily in front of the TV, far away enough from this that he doesn’t hear a thing.
“She had a whole cult dedicated to me?” Luke asks again. Din nods grimly.
“Apparently, this is a small group of people that were devoted to the idea of her as the chosen heir of a new race of humanity,” Din says. “Very racist, it looks like.”
Luke stares at him, horrified. “And I was the father. Of this. New human race.”
“Father of the first child of the new human race,” Din corrects. “Then you’d be sacrificed, and...” Din skims through the rest of the report, then closes the folder. “We don’t need to read all of this.”
“Well.” Luke says after a minute. “At least it was rather anti-climatic.”
“Anti-climatic, hm? Maybe I didn’t do my job right,” Din teases. It teases a laugh out Luke at least.
“I guess... that also means it’s time for me to go,” Din says.
“But it’s so early?” Luke asks, and Din feels his chest twist.
“Because... She’s been caught. So it’s time to end our contract.”
“...Oh. I guess so.”
It’s silent for a moment. Luke’s eyes have turned down at the corners.
“Because... it wouldn’t make sense for me to stay here,” Din says. “The threat is neutralized.”
“Another one could come around,” Luke says weakly. “I’m a pretty popular target, I guess.”
“It’s easy to see why,” Din murmurs.
Luke blushes slightly. “You’ll have to visit. You just have to, Din.”
“Of course,” Din says. “As much as I... as you want me too.”
“As much as you can,” Luke says. “And bring your son, too. I want to see him. Know everything about what’s going on.”
That makes Din choke on his words. “I should... Go pack,” Din says quietly, standing.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll say goodbye to Grogu,” Luke says, standing as well.
Din hesitates going up the stairs. “You’ll see him again, Luke.”
“I know,” Luke says.
“And me, too.”
“I want to,” Luke says.
“Then we will make it happen,” Din assures, and he finally goes upstairs.
It takes a few minutes to pack up Grogu’s room. He’s made himself at home in the nicer space, already putting some of his drawings on the walls. For some reason, Din can’t bring it within himself to take them down. He packs up Grogu’s toothbrush, then brings Grogu’s bags downstairs. At the base of it, when he rests the bags on the ground, he stops cold.
Luke has Grogu sitting cross legged on the ground in front of him, and both of them had their eyes closed.
“Breathe in...” Luke says. Grogu inhales nasally.
“And out...” Luke says. Grogu exhales loudly.
“Repeat after me. I’m safe.”
“I’m safe.”
“My Daddy’s safe.”
“My Daddy’s safe.”
“No one will hurt us.”
“No one will hurt us.”
“And... I will eat my veggies.”
“And... I will eat my brownies!” Grogu shrieks then he collapses into giggles.
Luke opens his eyes and gives Grogu the softest, most gentle look Din’s ever seen. “Close enough. Come here and give me a high five, then run and give your Daddy one too.”
Grogu jumps up and slaps his hand against Luke’s, then barrels full steam towards a shell shocked Din.
“High five, Daddy,” Grogu demands. Din gives him one, then Grogu grins and runs back to Luke. Luke takes him in his arms immediately.
“I hope you don’t mind?” Luke asks, standing up off the floor. “I had nightmares, and having something to repeat to myself helped ground me back in reality. And, you know, I found peace in meditation, so I figured I could share that with Grogu. Not that he was, you know, actually meditating or anything, but essentially it’s a breathing exercise that--”
Din walks two steps and wraps Luke in a tight hug. Tucks him into his chest, and this time he really does cry, a tear rolling down his cheek.
“Thank you,” Din whispers.
“Stay,” Luke says.
Din freezes.
“Please. If-- Please.” Luke talks over Din’s shoulder. “Having you and Grogu in the house, having all that energy, it's been such a treat, and I don’t want it to end. You make me so happy, you make me want to try. Please. Stay. You don’t have to... there’s enough room for us to sleep apart, and you don’t need to be obligated to...”
“Okay,” Din agrees.
“Yeah?” Luke’s voice is hopeful and raw. He wriggles out of Din’s embrace to look at him directly. His eyes are wet.
“Yeah. If you meant--”
“I meant it. I meant both of you. Whatever I meant. I meant it.”
“Then I’ll stay,” Din whispers, and Luke’s face breaks into a beautiful smile.
Epilogue
“You asked me, but I didn’t ask you,” Din says a few weeks later.
“Hm?”
They are sitting in Luke’s little car in the middle of the desert, the night falling around them. The engine is running to keep them warm, though Grogu is curled into blankets between them anyway, halfway to sleep.
“What do you dream of?” Din asks.
“Oh,” Luke says, then he giggles. “I said that to get in your pants you know.”
“Not around the child,” Din says, though he’s pretty sure Grogu’s happy ignoring them. “And I know that. But I still would like to know. What is your dream?”
Luke takes a moment to respond. The radio flips to a soft rock song. Din recognizes it, but doesn’t know the words.
“It’s silly,” Luke says.
“What is it?”
“It’s not practical,” Luke says.
“What is it?”
“And it’s something people did in the 70’s and it’s really old fashioned, and it’s burned out, and--”
“What, Luke?”
“I want to drive Route 66.”
Din huffs, then smiles. It’s fitting, somehow. Driving an ancient highway, a long considered dead American tradition through the desert.
“From Santa Monica Pier in LA, to Adams street in Chicago,” Luke says. “Imagine if we just... took a few weeks. To stop at motels, drive into the sunset, stare at the stars. I know that it’s old, and cheesy, and kitschy.” Luke’s defending himself so hard, and Din should tell him he doesn’t care, he’s not going to belittle a man for his dream, but he can’t stop looking at him, the hard line between his brows as he goes on about something he loves.
“Let’s do it,” Din says.
Luke stops mid word and stares at Din. His lips are parted in surprise. Din realizes he’s been smiling this whole time, and does nothing to stop it. He’s happy, here.
“You mean it?” Luke says with trepidation.
“I mean it,” Din says. “If... If I could bring--”
“Of course,” Luke says, looking down at the boy between them, his arms behind his head, staring at the stars in the southern sky. “No question. The three of us.”
Din grasps Luke’s hand. “The three of us.”
They stay in this moment for what feels like forever. Luke at his side, his son stargazing between them, the quiet desert bringing nothing but peace.