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Luke always feels when Din’s ship breaks the atmosphere before he sees or hears it. He tells himself it’s because he’s constantly seeking out threats and intruders through the Force—a biproduct of wartime trauma—but deep down he knows it’s because he looks forward to seeing Din again.
Grogu chirps beside him, toddling away from a meditation session that he was never truly invested in. On his best days, Grogu maybe gets a minute or two of true, quality meditation before he bumbles off to eat some frogs or bugs. When he knows his father is coming, however, he’s hopeless. Luke sighs and stands. Oh well. So is he.
There’s a hiss, the release of smoke, as the walkway lowers. Off strides Din in all his beskar glory. Luke crosses his arms, smothering a smile as Grogu launches himself with the Force into Din’s arms.
“Yeah, yeah. Missed you too, kid,” Din rumbles, holding Grogu to his chest.
He knows, someday, the two will have to leave this attachment behind. It won’t be safe. But, for now, they can have this…love. Luke can feel their adoration for each other in the Force. They make no move to hide it. It makes him taste sugar and feel warmth and smell bright, blooming flowers. It’s the love Luke wishes he could have had with his parents.
He takes the wish, acknowledges it, and releases it to the force.
“Din,” Luke greets, nodding at the taller man. “I hope your travels went well.”
“As well as they could be.” His voice is gruff—it always is. It makes Luke nearly shiver after not hearing it for a few weeks. Perhaps he really has been isolated for too long. “Grogu didn’t cause you too much trouble?”
“Only the right amount of trouble,” Luke winks.
Luke leads him down a path. They always take a small walk to catch up. Grogu sees butterflies and wriggles out of his father’s arms to toddle after them. The sun is high, the soft breeze and shade from trees welcome. Luke wonders how Din fares under all that armor—can only imagine how brutal the heat is on his visits to Tatooine. Din doesn’t complain, though. He never does.
Luke watches as Grogu pulls a butterfly out of midair with the Force. “He’s getting stronger with the Force every day.”
“You mean he’s abusing the Force more every day.” Din corrects, a low, grumbling chuckle crackling through his modulator. “I’m not sure your Jedi Code says anything about using it to catch butterflies and frogs to eat.”
Luke can’t help but grin. He does that a lot around Din. Smiles. “Well, there’s nothing against it.”
“I wasn’t sure about all of…” he gestures between the two of them, and Luke gets the implication. “But he’s fond of you, Luke. Ahsoka too. He feels comfortable. It wasn’t easy leaving him here, but I know I made the right decision. You’re good for him.”
Luke feels warmth radiate in his chest. “He’s a good Padawan. I never thought I would get the chance to take one, but I’m lucky it’s him.”
Din is looking at him. Luke wonders if he’s smiling. He can feel the Force around Din, painted in bright colors. There’s the phantom taste of sweets on his tongue, the smell of citrus lingering in the air. Din is happy. It makes Luke happy. It feels…good to make a new connection.
They fall into silence, but it’s comfortable. Luke likes that about Din. He’s not afraid to be quiet, doesn’t make it awkward or fill the space with unnecessary small talk.
“I, uh, brought you something.” Din says, shifting to pull a small, brown packet out of his pocket. He hands it over to Luke. And, even with the visor obstructing his eyes, Luke knows Din’s gaze is intense, searching.
Luke takes the packet, blinking. They’re…seeds. Candlewick flower seeds, to be exact. Leia’s favorite flower and one Luke is found of. Before Din left, Luke mentioned he wanted to plant flowers around the temple. He always found gardening cathartic—perhaps it brings him back to his days on Tatooine, where plants required special attention to flourish.
“Thank you.” Luke knows he’s flushing. He can’t help it. Oh, Force help him.
Din’s silent for a moment, then he lets out a staticky exhale.
“I was going to bring you real flowers,” Din tells him. Luke’s heart never skipped a beat when taking down an AT-AT, but right now Luke’s sure it’s been knocked out of rhythm. “But you’re not materialistic. You wouldn’t see a point in putting dead flowers into a vase. So, I decided to get you flowers you could grow yourself. Ones that won’t wilt.”
“I…” Luke grips the seeds in his hand. He knows that this means. He senses it coming. Din feels like the crisp, clear breath of fresh air on a cold morning. He smells like spices and fresh bread and crackling, smoky fire. All things cold and warm and balanced. “You…you didn’t have to…”
“I know.” Din jerks his head in a nod, like it’s obvious he wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to do. He reaches out takes Luke’s mech hand in his own and squeezes it. Luke’s stomach does several flips.
Luke looks down at their conjoined hands. He wishes he could squeeze Din’s. He wants to squeeze it. Wants to throw his arms around Din and pull his visor up until his mouth is revealed and kiss him. He wants it so bad that he aches, but he’s managed to cast those fantasies away. Attachments are dangerous. Luke knows what it did to Anakin.
“I wanted to,” Din continues. “I wanted to show you that I care.”
The words lock around Luke’s neck like a Force-choke.
Din puts a hand up. “I know that Jedis have…ideas about attachment. You’ve told me yourself that my attachment with Grogu will be dangerous. But I just can’t believe that. Attachments make clans, and clans make us strong.”
Luke wants to tell Din it all—wants to tell him what it did to Luke’s family, how attachment led his father to the Darkside, broke his mother’s heart so it killed her, separated Leia and him at birth, kept him from knowing Ahsoka and Obi-Wan and all the other found family members he had spread throughout the galaxy. He wants to tell Din that, yeah, maybe it seems like a good thing at the time, but ultimately it is selfish. Attachments can be exploited and twisted and lead to anguish on both parts.
But Luke doesn’t say any of that. He’s not ready to tell that story.
“It’s the Jedi code,” he says against a dry throat as he steps back to put distance between them, dropping Din’s hand with hesitation.
Din makes a sound of discontent. “Perhaps if the Jedi were more attached, knew more about one another, then maybe you wouldn’t be the last one.”
Luke wonders how much Din knows about the fall of the Jedi Order. Rumors float around the galaxy, some with truth, others fabricated. He’s thought of it before, spent countless nights awake imagining a world where Sidious couldn’t exploit Anakin’s relationship with his mother. He finds it easier to believe Anakin should have just followed the code. Yeah, maybe that means Luke wouldn’t have been born, but it also means the Republic could have won the war. Countless lives and planets would have been saved.
It would’ve been worth it for him to never have breathed life.
“You have your creed, I have mine.” Luke knows Din can’t argue against that.
“My creed makes sense.”
Luke can tell Din’s gritting his teeth—can sense the frustration in the force. It feels like the tumultuous oceans of Kamino. Luke wants to snap back. He could easily tell Din that, no, it doesn’t make sense to hide your face behind beskar, just like how thousands of other cultures wouldn’t make sense to them either. He exhales the urge into the Force, and instead says:
“I’m sorry, Din.”
“Look…” He takes Luke’s hand again and clasps it between his gloves. Luke should pull away. He doesn’t. He convinces himself he can have this moment of selfishness. One moment won’t lead to the dark side, right? “Just think about it, okay? The old Jedi Order is gone. You’re building a new one. Think about what that means for Grogu. For you.”
Luke nods. He already has his answer. “I’ll think about it.”
Din nods. He’s smart. He knows that’s all he’s going to get from Luke. Even though Luke craves to see the man behind the helmet—wants to know the color of his hair and eyes, the angle of his jaw, he knows he can’t have that. It’s a selfish desire that must be let go into the Force.
Luke will not become Anakin Skywalker.
Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.
He looks on as Din walks ahead of him and scoops a giggling Grogu into his arms. Grogu presents Din with a rock, which Din accepts like it’s a special present, telling Grogu he’ll put it on the dashboard of his ship. Luke’s heart warms.
For the first time in a long time, he has something he’s afraid to lose.
Luke doesn’t think about it. For the first few days Din is gone, that is. He tells himself the decision is already made—that he can’t afford to form attachments.
It may seem like that when a Jedi’s mind is in turmoil, they immediately default to meditating. Luke will admit that he does typically meditate when he’s faced with a problem. However, there are times when he can’t just silence his mind. Those are the times he knows he must face his troubles head on. Suppressing them through meditation would just make him a coward.
So, Luke lays outside in the grass, arms spread wide as if he was offering the universe a hug. Above him, the inky sky is clear—millions of stars hanging above him. He thinks of all the planets he’s visited, all the creatures out on them. He thinks of the thousands of battles fought in dead space, the lives lost. He thinks and he thinks and he thinks and—
He senses him before he sees him.
“Beautiful night out here, isn’t it?” A voice rumbles beside him. “I forgot what it was like just to look at an unpolluted sky. It reminds me of Tatooine. I would always try and imagine what other planets were out there. I never imagined I’d ever get to visit any of them.”
Luke looks over and finds Anakin Skywalker sitting beside him. Not Darth Vader. Anakin, with his shoulder length hair and the scar over his eye and his Jedi robes. His body is a shimmering, translucent blue. A ghost of the Force.
He grits his teeth. It’s not the first time Anakin has shown up unannounced. Father of the year wants to repair the relationship he has with his son even in death. And even though Luke knows there’s good in him, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to forgive all the pain he’s caused.
“You didn’t come here to make small talk, did you?” Luke asks.
Anakin sighs, leaning back on his hands. “No. I didn’t. You’re worried about attachments, and that worries me.”
Luke resists the urge to scoff. Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle. Maybe if Anakin had worried a little about attachments, both Anakin and Luke’s mother would still be alive. Worlds wouldn’t have been destroyed. The galaxy wouldn’t have been plagued with years of darkness.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to pursue an attachment with Din,” Luke tells him. When Din returns, he’ll tell him that they must remain friends. It doesn’t matter how much Luke wants to reach out and grab his hand or press his forehead against cold beskar. “I’ll sacrifice what you couldn’t.”
Anakin winces, then relaxes. He crosses his legs. For a moment, there’s silence. If Luke wasn’t able to sense him, he’d think Anakin disappeared.
“It wasn’t attachment that led me to the Darkside. The Jedi were…very fickle about what they considered to be an attachment. Looking back, I was attached to Obi-Wan. I was attached to Ahsoka. It was acceptable because they were Jedi. But your mother…” Anakin swallows, the pause following long, heavy. Luke can feel the sadness and regret rolling off Anakin in waves. It grips at Lukes heart, makes him want to reach out to him—provide some comfort to the man who has both given and taken so much.
“It wasn’t attachment that led me to the Darkside,” Anakin repeats. “It was fear. Fear that was exploited by the Darkside. If I had just accepted those attachments in the first place, I could have had it all. I would be here, alive, with you, your sister, and your mother. I don’t want you to make the same mistake that I did.”
He stares at Luke, and even though he’s a ghost, Luke sees the reflection of his own blue eyes, a strong chin, wisps of blonde hair. He sees the way his brow pinches and his lips purse like Leia when she’s talking about something serious. For the first time, Luke truly sees how this man could be his father. Not Darth Vader. Anakin Skywalker.
Luke pulls a knee to his chest. He sucks in a breath. “How am I supposed to rebuild the Jedi Order if I can’t even follow their teachings?”
“Who said you have to follow their teachings?” Anakin raises a brow, and that’s very Leia too. “You are rebuilding the Jedi Order, Luke. When you rebuild something, you get rid of the things that didn’t work the first time.”
“Yoda told me to train myself to let go of everything I fear to lose,” Luke tells him.
Anakin raises a hand. There’s hesitation, but Luke nods. Anakin places a hand on Luke’s shoulder. The touch is featherlight, but he can feel it. It’s grounding, reminding him of when Uncle Owen would do the same before he gave Luke a talk.
“No. You train yourself to protect everything you fear to lose,” Anakin corrects. “Without attachment, there is nothing. Without attachment, you would not be born. Obi-Wan would not have trained me. Ahsoka would not be your annoying aunt.”
Luke swallows hard. He’s always trained with the intention to protect rather than fight. The whole reason he was trained in the first place was to save Leia, then the galaxy. Whenever he was knocked down, unsure if he was able to get back up, he’d think of those he cared about. They pushed him just a little further. One more droid or clone down meant one less of his comrades getting hurt.
“Luke, how do you think your attachment to the Mandalorian would lead you to the Darkside? Have your attachments with Leia and Han led you there?” Anakin’s gaze tells Luke that he already knows the answer.
Leia and Han have only pushed him closer to the Force.
“I—” Luke pauses, digging his fingers into the dirt beneath his palms. “It’s not necessarily a particular situation I picture, rather a feeling.” It’s hard to put it into words. It’s gnawing. It makes his stomach feel like it’s turned inside out.
“That’s fear. Not attachment.” Anakin says. “Fear is a path to the Darkside. Not love.”
“You know, you’re a lot wiser than Obi-Wan and Ahsoka give you credit for. What did they call you?” Luke taps a finger on his chin for a moment. “Abrasive and arrogant? Hopelessly impulsive?”
Anakin scoffs and rolls his eyes. It’s fond. “Of course they did. Sounds just like them.”
Luke laughs, the first time he’s ever done so with Anakin…with his father. “Obi-Wan also said if you were a loth-wolf, you would be untrainable. Your owners would immediately take you back to the pound.”
“I don’t know where Obi-Wan gets the audacity from. He’s just as stubborn as me.” Anakin grumbles, crossing his arms. He’s actually pouting. Like a child. “He’s just more subtle about it. More…diplomatic, if you will.”
“So, where you would steal a cruiser to enact a plan the council rejected, Obi-Wan would manipulate them into thinking that it’s a good idea?” Luke offers by way of explanation. He can only imagine the exasperation his mother felt. Anakin must’ve been a pain in the ass as a husband.
“Exactly! You get it!” Anakin smiles, and it’s real. There’s no edge of sadness or regret.
“I do, because your kids are the exact same way.” Luke snickers. “Leia grew up with Obi-Wan, meaning she’s learned his way of thinking. She can bring a room to their knees with a few words. Me on the other hand…” he thumps his own chest. “I’ve always preferred the call to action.”
“I’m so proud of you, Luke,” Anakin tells him. And…the words make Luke’s throat shut. His eyes begin to burn, tears that should’ve fallen long ago. “You are the light. Never forget that, okay?”
“Dad…” Luke chokes out. It’s the first time he’s said it—called Anakin his father. Before, he was unable to separate Darth Vader from his father. But now, with Anakin sitting beside him, looking so much like Leia and him and saying the words Luke desperately had wanted to hear, it’s impossible not to see him as his father.
Luke can’t help it. He wraps his arms around Anakin, presses his face into his cold chest and cries. He cries for the family he never had. He cries for Anakin who was manipulated to the dark side. He cries for all those lost in the wars. He cries for the attachments he’s denied himself out of fear. He cries, and Anakin just places a hand on top of his head and says,
“I’m sorry, Luke. You deserved so much more than what we left you with. It was my job to end the Sith, not you. I’m here now, even if my body is not. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.” He presses a kiss to Luke’s hair. “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.”
And that just breaks Luke. His crying turns into an ugly sob. He’s felt the heavy weight of obligation ever since he left Tatooine, a destiny thrust upon him in a chaotic galaxy. All he’s been told is what he can and can’t do. Being told he has a choice to be happy, by his father no less, is a treasure.
“I got you,” Anakin hugs him close. “I’m here.”
Eventually, Luke’s eyes grow dry. He pulls back from Anakin, who keeps his hand rested on Luke’s back, a comforting presence even though it’s cold and unhuman-like. Luke can see the bleariness in Anakin’s own eyes. He’d been crying too.
“It’s not just me, you know,” Anakin says, giving Luke a smile. “You have Leia, Han, and Chewie. Artoo and Threepio. Obi-Wan. Ahsoka. The Mandalorian. There are plenty of others there for you too, you just have to let them be.”
Luke wishes it were that easy. He supposes this is a start.
“Thanks, dad.” Luke tells him, hoping the simple two words will encompass what this conversation means to him.
Anakin ruffles his hair. “Anytime, kiddo, anytime.”
They chat for a little while after that. Anakin tells Luke stories about his adventures with Obi-Wan and Ashoka. Some adventures manage to draw laughs out of Luke. Their capacity for getting into ridiculous situations is truly unmatched. Luke thought his life was crazy. He’s not quite sure how his mother handled it.
Eventually, Luke begins to drift off to sleep as Anakin is telling a story about mind-controlling worms. He feels safe at Anakin’s side—secure, like he knows if something were to happen, Anakin would protect him. It’s the first night since leaving Tatooine that he hasn’t slept with his back pressed against a wall.
When Luke opens his eyes, it’s to a sky painted with orange and yellow and pink. The sun is just barely cresting the horizon as it rises. Luke can sense he’s alone. He’s not sure when Anakin left last night—only knows he didn’t wake once despite falling asleep outside on the grass. His back aches, but he can’t regret it. The memory of the conversation tastes bittersweet. It’s a start, tentative steps towards a relationship built on love and trust rather than war. Luke just wishes Anakin were actually here.
There’s a sound behind him. Luke flips over on his stomach and finds Grogu toddling towards him. Luke senses confusion through the Force. Grogu can’t understand why he’d choose to sleep outside when there’s a perfectly comfortable bed. Luke doesn’t say he was talking to the man who murdered all the younglings before Grogu’s very eyes.
To everyone else, save for Ashoka and Obi-Wan, Anakin is simply Darth Vader. Luke’s not sure if there is anyone left who actually knew the man before the monster.
“I was star-gazing, and I fell asleep out here,” Luke tells Grogu as he sits up. “Turns out the ground is perfectly comfy.”
Grogu is not convinced, but he’s not going to argue with Luke because he’s hungry. He hurls the feeling at Luke so violently that Luke’s stomach growls itself. With a laugh, Luke stands, brushing the dirt off his robes. He’s going to need a bath. He’s sure there’s probably a bug or two in his hair.
“Let’s go get breakfast before we start training, then.” Luke lifts Grogu into his arms. A little tickle to his Padawan’s stomach earns him a giggle. “How’s eggs and toast sound? Something simple?”
Grogu chirps in agreeance, happy that Luke isn’t just defaulting to cereal.
“Have something for me too, Little Skyguy?” Ashoka asks, emerging from the treeline. Luke frowns. She’s way too good at hiding her Force signature. Even with as sensitive he is, there’s times he can’t feel her at all.
“I suppose I can whip something up for you,” Luke shrugs as Ahsoka joins his side. They move inside the housing quarters of the temple—the part Luke had prioritized finishing first so they could get decent rest.
He sets Grogu down in the dining room and heads to the kitchen. Ahsoka follows suit. He can feel her gaze boring into his back, intent and searching. Luke just ignores her until she brings up whatever it is she wants to say. Jedi are annoying like that.
“He visited you last night, didn’t you?” She asks.
Luke doesn’t turn to look at her, focusing instead of gathering the items needed to make breakfast. “You could sense him, couldn’t you?”
“I could sense him planets away,” Ahsoka huffs. “He was here for a while.” She observes.
Luke bites down on his lip as he cracks an egg into a pan. He has nothing to hide from Ashoka. When Anakin had called her Aunt, he truly meant it. Even though they’d only met in adulthood, Luke truly feels a connection to her. Somehow, Anakin had drawn them together—knew that he had to connect the little family he had left in the galaxy. “We had a good talk. It was the first time I could really see him as my father.”
“Yeah?” Luke knows she’s smiling.
“Yeah.” He nods, then hesitates. He cracks another egg. “We talked about attachments. He told me how it wasn’t attachment that led him to the Darkside, but fear and anger. I…was conflicted on what to do about Din.”
“His affections towards you?” Ashoka implore.
Luke immediately flushes. “How do you know he has affections towards me?”
Ashoka laughs, moving to Luke’s side to pop bread into the toaster. “Oh, please. Anyone with one eye could see you’re down bad for each other. Even your mother and father were better at hiding it.”
“Anakin…my father, told me that I should reshape the Jedi order to what I want it to be,” Luke tells her, finally turning to face Ahsoka. There’s a smile playing at her lips. She has her arms crossed—a classic Ashoka pose. “He said that their rules are outdated. I just…am I really rebuilding the Jedi Order if I’m building it my way? Isn’t it just Luke’s Order?”
Ashoka laughs and rests a hand on his shoulder. “It should be Luke’s Order. There was a reason I left the Order. For all they acted noble, they lacked trust and faith. Without it, they crumbled. They didn’t trust Anakin from the beginning, so they didn’t trust me. You see the good in people. You want them to succeed. I agree with Anakin. We don’t need another Jedi Order. We need an Order that actually upholds the values of peacekeepers of the galaxy.”
“If I were to create such an Order, would you join me?” He asks. It’s a question he’s been holding back on. Perhaps out of fear. He’s felt a heavy weight going at this alone, even if Ashoka has been beside him, she’s not been in it with him.
“Well, we can’t only have a Skywalker influencing the younglings,” she grins. Luke feels his shoulders relax. “That’s just a recipe for disaster.”
Luke can feel Anakin and Obi-Wan smiling down at them. It’s almost like they’re nudging him through the Force, a proud father and uncle supporting him even through death. For the first time in a long time, Luke doesn’t feel so alone. He doesn’t feel like he’s the last of his kind.
“Oh, come on. You’re an honorary Skywalker.” Luke points out. “You were literally trained by my father. You act even more like him than I do.”
“Ouch. You really know where to hit a girl where it hurts.” Ahsoka places a hand over her chest as if she’s wounded. It makes Luke laugh a real laugh. He feels…light. Like instead of begrudgingly looking towards the future, hope has filled his chest.
Grogu toddles in then and makes a disgruntled sound, obviously annoyed breakfast is taking too long. Ahsoka and Luke laugh together this time.
It’s agonizing waiting for Din, but then he senses him break through the atmosphere, he leaves Grogu with Ashoka and dashes out of the temple embarrassingly fast. His heart is pounding, throat tight as he watches Din’s ship hover to land. The door cracks open, the ramp descending. Then, there’s Din, walking down.
He stands at the bottom of the ramp. Even though he can’t see Din’s eyes, he knows their gazes meet. Luke feels the smallest bit of apprehension seep through the Force. Din doesn’t know what Luke answer should be.
Luckily, Luke actually thought about it.
He lets himself have what he wants.
He can’t just rip Din’s helmet off and kiss him. Not here. Not now. Instead, he charges up to Din like he would an AT-AT, grabs the back of his neck, and presses his forehead against Din’s. His skin, warmed by the sun, is instantly cooled by the beskar. Luke hears a sharp gasp. Then, Din’s gloved hand is cupping his cheek.
“Luke…” Din’s voice is low and breathless. This close, it makes Luke shiver.
“The rules about attachments are stupid and outdated.” Luke tells him, and he can feel Anakin’s grin through the Force. He blushes at the thought of his dad watching them, mentally pleading Obi-Wan to tell Anakin to screw off. “It’s not attachments that lead people to the Darkside, but fear, jealousy, anger. An attachment can be good. It can bring light. I want us to create light.”
Like my mother and father never got a chance to do.
We did. You are light, Luke, Anakin’s voice rings in his head.
Luke’s throat grows tight.
“You really did think about it, huh?” Din hums, sounding pleased.
“I…had a little help,” Luke admits, biting his lip. “My father visited me.”
“Your…dead father visited you,” Din echoes.
Din doesn’t actually know about Anakin’s fall to the Darkside—that he was the insidious Darth Vader. He knows that Anakin was a powerful Jedi and a key figure in the Clone Wars who helped take down Palpatine. Luke just left out the majority of the story. Din doesn’t know that Anakin could’ve killed Grogu like he did the other younglings. He doesn’t know of the planets he’s destroyed and the civilians he’s brought to their knees.
Someday Luke will tell him. Just not yet. It’s been years, and it still feels fresh to Luke.
“It’s a Jedi thing,” he says by way of explanation and waves his hand. “The point is, there is a reason the Jedi Order fell. They were too strict in their ways, and it disillusioned many who were a part of it. I…don’t want the new Jedi Order to be like that. I want to be a real peacekeeper. I want kids like Grogu to know love and loyalty and acceptance.”
"Cyar'ika,” Din whispers in Mandalorian. Luke doesn’t know what it means, but Din sounds revenant—like Luke just handed him the galaxy itself. Luke wishes so badly he could just kiss him.
Luke places his hand over Din’s and laces their fingers together. “I want you to help me rebuild. You are what I want the Order to exemplify. You are strong and brave, yet loyal and kind. One moment you’re taking down a droid, and the next you’re singing a lullaby to Grogu to help him sleep. You are all the pieces to the puzzle I’m trying to put together.”
Din is silent for a few moments. Luke swears he can hear Din’s racing heart, can see the crashing waves of emotion, taste the sweetness of sugar on his tongue. He squeeze’s Luke’s hand. “I’m not a Jedi…”
“Neither is Ashoka,” Luke says. “Not anymore.”
“I’m not Force sensitive.”
“A Jedi must learn to not rely on the Force.”
“Luke…”
“You being you is more than enough,” Luke tells him. “You could stay here with Grogu and I instead of these short visits. You could watch him train and grow and—”
“Close your eyes.”
Luke blinks at Din’s low, grumbly statement. He squeezes his eyes shut, his other senses instantly sharpening even though he knows he’s safe. Din’s hand is still in his—grounding, keeping Luke steady even though he feels dizzy with what’s to come.
There’s movement, the sound of something being set down. Luke can sense Din moving closer, so he isn’t surprised when his lips press to his, but he still gasps because they’re kissing. Stubble rubs against Luke’s cheek, pleasantly burning. Din cups the side of Luke’s face and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He instantly obliges. Luke can hear roaring, blinding suns and taste cinnamon.
“I’ll stay.” Din tells him, pressing his lips to Luke’s hair. He presses a hand flat against Luke’s back and pulls him close. “I’ll help you rebuild.”
Luke can’t help but grin. It’s the first time since he was a young, dumb kid flying starfighters and swinging around a lightsaber that he’s smiled like this—felt like the corners of his mouth aren’t being pulled down by an invisible weight. He feels free. Like he’s grabbed the future and made it his own.
“You’re beautiful,” Din tells him.
Somehow, Luke smiles brighter.
“Beautiful isn’t the word I’d use,” he teases. He’s always been called a pretty boy, even back on Tatooine during school. It used to make him blush. But, then war came, and pretty boy was thrown around like an insult, like he was nothing more than an attractive face and body. And then Palpatine tortured him, leaving a spiderweb of scars across his body, and he no longer thought the word applied.
Lips brush against his in a featherlight touch. He shivers at the sweetness. “Good thing I’m not you, then.”
Luke can’t help but deepen the kiss, using the Force to guide them up the ramp and back into the ship so Grogu doesn’t stumble upon them if he comes looking for his dad. He presses Din against the control panel and climbs up into his lap, straddling his strong thighs. He reaches out to press a button, eyes still closed. The door hisses closed behind them.
“Can you keep your eyes closed, cyar'ika?” Din lays a hand on Luke’s back and another on his shoulder, holding him there. “Do you want me to blindfold you?”
“I’ve done harder things than keep my eyes closed while I make out with a hot guy,” Luke laughs. He wishes he could see Din’s face—wonders if Din is rolling his eyes fondly or smiling in amusement. What color are his eyes? His hair? Does he flush when they kiss? Is he as stoic as he sometimes sounds?
You’ll get to find out in time, he tells himself. Patience.
“You sure about that?” Din rumbles. The hand on Luke’s back presses down, massaging, and Luke can’t help but groan and arch his back. It’s pathetic, but he hasn’t been touched in a very long time. With his eyes closed, everything is sharper, more sensitive. Din’s hand is like electricity, his lips fire. Luke tingles where their bodies meet. And they still have their clothes on.
“Maybe.” Luke says. “Not sure if you’d count saving the galaxy or not.”
“Saving the galaxy is hard?” Din sounds doubtful, voice edged with teasing. “Sounds like a typical day for Luke Skywalker.”
“That was back in my younger days.” He tells him. He loves how they can just sit and talk and tease while Luke sits in Din’s lap. It’s soft and comforting. Reminds Luke just how much he misses having attachments.
“You’re still young.” Din says. A hand brushes a lock of Luke’s hair behind his hair, the gesture intimate. Then, Din is cupping the back of Luke’s head, and he’s pulling him in for another kiss.
Din licks at Luke’s lips, a request for entrance that Luke more than happily obliges. His tongue is wet and hot, petting against Luke’s own tongue then tickling the roof of his mouth. Luke lets out a moan into Din’s mouth. He’s always liked kissing—maybe even likes it better than sex itself. When someone is a good kisser, Luke would be content to make out for hours.
And, as it is, Din is turning out to be a very good kisser.
Luke pouts when Din pulls away. The pout is quickly replaced by a pleased sigh when Din presses his lips against Luke’s neck where he nibbles then licks at the skin. Luke grips onto Din’s soft, curly hair, tilting his head to the side for better access. He wonders if Din is someone who likes to mark. Luke has never been with someone long enough for them to leave their claim.
The thought stirs something in him, a hot, syrupy feeling in his gut. That could also be from the hard bulge pressed against his own crotch, though. Luke moves his hips experimentally, a slow grinding motion that draws a hiss out of Din. Lule repeats the motion, more confident, and Din’s deep moan has Luke wanting.
“Holy kriff, cyar’ika.” Din’s voice is impossibly lower. It reminds Luke of rumbling earth, mountains shook by an earthquake. “Your ass should be illegal.”
“One of my many talents.” Luke grins. When he gyrates his hips this time, Din holds onto his waist, rolling his hips with the movement. It feels so good, and Din feels so big even confined by his suit. Luke’s mouth waters.
Luke slides off Din and sinks to his knees. “Take your pants off. I want to suck your dick.” He feels his cheeks burn as he says it—remembers a time when he was smooth in these situations.
He hears Din choke. “Luke, you don’t—”
“I want to, Din,” Luke implores. “I’ve denied myself long enough.”
There’s only the sound of Din shifting for a few moments, then he settles, placing a hand on Luke’s head. “You can open your eyes. I put my helmet back on.”
Luke does so, though they are soon heavy-lidded with lust at the sight in front of him. Din’s cock is long and thick (go figure) and veiny with a fat head. There’s pre-come pearling at the tip. Luke can’t help but lean forward to lick it off. The hand tightens in his hair, little sparks of pleasure shooting down Luke’s spine. He wants it inside of him. In his mouth. In his ass. He wants to connect them, so he doesn’t know where he ends, and Din begins.
He suckles on the tip, earning him a sharp intake of breath from Din, then presses kisses down the length before licking a hot stripe back up to the head where he swirls his tongue in a motion akin to worship. He keeps eye contact with Din beneath his lashes, no matter how exposed it makes him feel.
“Kriff, Luke,” Din curses. “You’re such a tease.”
“Mhm.” Luke hums in agreement. It’s not the first time he’s heard that.
He slowly takes Din into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and relaxing his throat. For a moment, he holds there, tongue lavishing around the thick, hard member, relishing in its weight. When Luke is like this , his head isn’t spinning; he’s not thinking of the past, present, or future.
There’s a gentle tug at his hair. Luke begins to move then, wrapping his hand around the length he can’t quite fit into his mouth. He knows he can do it with practice. It’ll be a good challenge—will afford him the opportunity to give Din lots of blowjobs. He flicks his wrist as he bobs his head, moaning softly. He’s floating, pleasantly buzzing. It’s only Din and him. If the universe fell away in that moment, Luke wouldn’t even know it—nor would he care.
Luke’s own arousal strains against his trousers, almost painful in its hardness. He reaches down to palm at himself with his mech hand, then shifts to haphazardly tug his pants down a bit to pull out his own dick. He begins to stroke himself in tandem with his head bobs, groaning at the sweet pleasure that courses through him.
The hand tightens in his hair. Pulls hard. “Luke. Kriff. You’re perfect, you’re so perfect, I—”
He can’t help but whimper at Din’s words as they became a storm to the mounting wave of pleasure growing inside of him. Luke can tell that Din is also close. Din is shallowly thrusting his hips now, more controlled than Luke cares for him to be, whereas before he was able to hold himself in place.
Din’s cups Luke’s cheek, his exhale staticky and shaky through his vocoder as he caresses his gloved thumb over Luke’s skin. “You’re mine, riduur.”
It’s those with those three words that pushes Luke over the edge, white-hot pleasure coursing through him as he orgasms. It moves through him like electricity, sending shocks down his spine and making his toes curl. He knows his moan is loud and wonton and dirty around Din’s dick. Apparently, that’s all it takes to make Din come too, because after a moment Luke is choking on it.
He coughs, a bit surprised in his post-orgasmic haze, but manages to swallow most of it down. He then rests his head on Din’s bare thigh, sighing, enjoying the fuzzy feeling in his head. Most people hate brain fog. Luke loves it. It quiets the noise of the outside world. Allows him to just be.
Din runs a hand through Luke’s hair, soft and tender. Luke practically purrs under the touch. It’s been so long since he’s had sex, but it’s also been so long since he’s been intimate—enjoyed the gentle touch of another.
“That was amazing,” Din tells him. “You were amazing.”
“Mhm. So were you.” He responds, tilting his head to smile up at Din.
Din huffs out a laugh. Luke likes it. He doesn’t laugh often. “I didn’t even do anything.”
Luke pushes himself up and clamors into Din’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. Their skin, where bare, presses together, warm and sweaty. He rests their foreheads together. Din just holds him. It feels so nice to be held. He feels safe—knows Din will protect him, even if he doesn’t need protection.
“Grogu has probably sensed you’re here,” he says after a while, shifting to pull his trousers over his ass. Din places his hands on Luke’s hips, lifts him, and sets him to the side so he can also redress. Force, that’s hot. Din could so easily manhandle him. There’s not a lot of people who could put up a fight against Luke.
“Ashoka is watching him now?” Din inquires, pressing a button open the ship’s hatch for them to exit. It parts with a hiss, and the metallic whirl of the ramp lowering is loud in the little bubble they’d created.
“Yes, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s managed to convince her to go outside and catch frogs with him. He has her wrapped around her finger, just like she did my—” Luke pauses, a lump lodging in his throat as he thinks of the man who sat beside him last night and guided him through his fears. “Her master, Anakin.”
If Din notices the small shift in Luke’s demeanor, he doesn’t say anything, only takes Luke’s hand to lead them outside of the ship. “For someone who barely speaks, he sure is a great negotiator.”
Luke snorts. “You’d be surprised what you can communicate with the Force.”
“What is the force telling you about me?” Din asks, tilting his head to the side in a way that shouldn’t be cute.
“Not a lot, actually. Your shields are strong. It’s like…I can tell what you’re feeling, but it’s very muted.” He explained. “Like, right now, you’re happy, but I don’t taste sunshine like I usually would.”
“Taste sunshine…” Din repeats, shaking his head. “I have shields?”
“Yeah.” Luke nods. They’re standing on the ramp, facing one another now, holding hands. Luke reaches out with his free one and cups it down the side of Din’s neck. “I’m not surprised with you being a bounty hunter. It’s like…having good poker face, but with your mind.”
Ahsoka stands outside the house with Grogu in her arms. She looks equal parts delighted and disgusted, ever the supportive aunt. Grogu, catching sight of Din, wiggles out of Ahsoka’s arms and floats to the ground, before taking off in a fast toddle. Ahsoka is laughing. The way he runs always cracks her up.
Din meets Grogu halfway and sweeps him up, cradling him. Warmth rolls off of Grogu in waves. With a guilty pang, Luke wonders how he could have separated them for the sake of attachment.
A hand rests on his shoulder. It’s Anakin, proud. Obi-Wan stands beside him, hands tucked into his roads, eyes crinkled with bright lines.
“The future is bright, Luke,” Obi-Wan says.
“Yeah.” Luke agrees, blinking tears from his eyes. Anakin rests a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, it is.”
He feels like there is a new hope for the galaxy.