Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Some may think it odd that a flower shop could be run by a Jedi - Luke disagrees.

The Jedi teach patience and serenity, and well, what better to help train that than through flowers? They require a nurturing environment, a steady hand, constant care - like most skills in life, some beings are lucky to have them grow and nurture themselves, but like flowers, a majority are not that fortunate and need a helping hand.

They teach perseverance in adversity, too. Luke takes in the flora around him, bright petals settled in bunches and arranged artfully in rainbows and matching hues. These flowers were transported from Naboo directly, overcoming the stress of travel and still thriving under Luke’s gentle insistence. Some were wildflowers, able to grow anywhere and everywhere with little aid, but most came from his mother’s private garden. After retiring entirely to Naboo, she and his father work hard to bring back flora on the brink of extinction and create new hybrids, introducing fresh life to the ecosystem of Naboo and the hearts of Coruscant.

Luke smiles softly, the image of his ever-patient diplomatic mother alongside his impulsive, determined Jedi father, raising flowers together now that their children were making their own paths in the galaxy. 

The bell over the sliding glass door tinkles, pulling Luke from his musings. He walks from around the counter and down the few steps to the floor proper, a smile curling his lips as he takes in the older man lowering the hood of his robe.

“Uncle Ben!” The man smiles at him, eyes twinkling, rubbing his grey beard.

“Hello there, Luke.” He meets Luke in the center of the room, head dipping in a slight bow. Luke returns it, smiling, then opens his arms for a hug. Obi-Wan returns it with a chuckle.

“What brings you by, Uncle? I thought you were off-world with Master Koon.”

Obi-Wan hums. “I was, we’ve just returned. I brought something for you, at your mother’s request.” Luke’s smile widens - he knows what that means. Obi-Wan pulls a satchel over his head, passing it gently to Luke. Luke takes it and quickly moves back to the counter, Obi-Wan right behind him.

“While Plo and I were on Lonatro, Padmé called ahead to the keeper of the Gardens. Apparently he owed your mother a favor from when she helped pass a law to bring the Gardens under Republic protection as a senator,” Obi-Wan says wryly, the humor in his tone apparent. 

“Mother’s memory is flawless,” Luke comments with a grin. He opens the pouch to find two clear containers, air-tight, with a label over the lid of each. “Alderaanian flame-rose and flame-lily; Uncle, these are amazing.”

“The Keeper said they can be raised as other roses and lilies you may already be familiar with,” Obi-Wan continues. “The only exceptions are they need heat, so constant sunlight or something similar, and warm water.”

Luke thinks of his heat box on the second floor of the shop, and another in his rooms at the Jedi temple. “That won’t be a problem.”

Obi-Wan smiles again, taking in the soft joy on his nephew’s face. “I remember seeing these on Alderaan, in Chancellor Organa’s garden. I think you’ll be pleased with their colors once they reach maturity.”

Luke nods emphatically, grin spreading wider in his excitement. “Thank you, Uncle; this is amazing. I knew I had a good feeling about today.”

Obi-Wan chuckles and drops a hand to Luke’s shoulder, squeezing with obvious affection. “Of course you did, Luke. The Force isn’t shy around you, it seems.”

Luke winks at his uncle as he removes the clear boxes and passes his satchel back. “It’s a Skywalker trait.” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes with obvious exasperation; his expression makes Luke bite his bottom lip and laugh. “But you already knew that.”

“As if your father would let me forget, even for a moment,” the older man grumbles. Luke laughs harder.

“Really, I had no idea,” he quips. “Doesn’t sound like Dad at all.”

“I suppose you’re right; I must be confusing him for my other headstrong Padawan,” Obi-Wan comments dryly.

The bell for the shop tinkles again, pulling Luke’s attention away from Obi-Wan. The Jedi Master folds the satchel into his hands and wanders away with a nod and soft smile, further into the aisles of flowers. Luke steps down into the shop to greet his new guest.

The guest is a human male, based on the undeniable height and broad shoulders, covered head to toe in shining silver armor. The sight isn’t an odd one on Coruscant - not truly - but when he turns to face Luke something curls through him, like the Force is simmering through his veins. Luke swallows down the sensation and can’t help but feel his smile grow more genuine from the polite smile it started as.

“Hello,” he says brightly. The man’s visor turns to him, then tilts for a moment, as if Luke is something the man can’t quite understand; Luke wonders if he may be Force-sensitive and felt the same thing Luke did. “Welcome to Naberrie Blooms. Have you been here before?”

There’s an awkward beat before the helmet moves from side to side: no. Luke isn’t surprised; he knows he would remember this man coming in, and he’s never seen him before. Armor aside, he doesn’t seem the type to be forgettable, and with the way the Force curls around him and beckons Luke to come closer, Luke doubts he would be forgetting him any time soon.

Luke - remembering his role as shopkeeper and setting aside what the Force is trying to tell him for later - takes a welcoming step forward. “What brings you in today?”

Another beat, then: “I need flowers.”

Luke bites the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from growing further. “Of course you do, why else would you be here? Silly of me to ask.” He loses the fight and feels his smile widen and a flush start to creep up his neck. “What were you looking for?”

The man’s body language screams discomfort. “...nice ones?”

Luke ducks his head in a nod and turns on his heel, feeling his skin flush deeper at the man’s awkward answer. He needs a moment - he’s utterly charmed and embarrassingly flustered for it. “I, ah, I have just the thing.”

Luke gestures for the man to follow him and weaves through the aisles lightly, his flush dying down as he focuses on the flower he’s already picked out. In a few short moments he stands before several bunches of velanie, their sweet scent apparent but not overbearing. “This is the velanie flower,” Luke begins once his guest stops near him. “You can find this in the wild, of course, but not in so many colors. Naturally they are these blues and reds and whites, but we’ve managed to breed yellow, pink, purple, and a few others. My mother won’t stop until she’s created a prism of all of her flowers.”

The man tilts his helmet away from the wall of color to take in Luke beside him. “You raise these?”

Oh, Force - Luke had been rambling, he feels it, and now has no choice but to continue. He clears his throat. “I have a little terrarium here, the second floor, but my parents raise the bulk of our stock on Naboo.” A soft sound comes from the man, and it takes a moment for Luke to decipher it as a hum through the modulator in his helmet. He turns his visor back towards the flowers and Luke wonders what he sees, and what type of impression Luke has made with his oversharing.

The black centers of the flowers stand out in all the kaleidoscopes of color, staring back at Luke. He’s never felt so judged by his flowers before this very moment.

“This will do.” 

Luke keeps his eyes forward and tries not to glare back at the snooty blossoms. Traitors. “Do you have a preference?”

He feels the man’s gaze on him again. “I’ll take whatever you want.”

Luke snaps his head over, his mouth falling open. This isn’t an unusual response, it’s something Luke hears multiple times a day in different variations, but this time it’s - different, somehow. The Force sings to him again; Luke is suddenly too warm and were they always standing this close? Luke licks his bottom lip and nods, unfolding his hands from the sleeves of his robe.

He plucks an arrangement of calm colors - trying to cool himself off by thinking of the man’s armor and failing - and throws in a few bright yellow for the strange quirks the Force is screaming at him. He shows the collection to the man, and when he nods, Luke smiles warmly and guides them back to the front of the shop.

Luke steps up behind the counter and takes a few minutes to trim extra leaves from the stems, modify a few flower placements, and wrap the entire thing in thin, white flimsi, tied in place with a bright yellow ribbon to accent the yellow he added by the annoyingly loud Will of the Force. He offers the entire bouquet to the man with a wink and a flourish. After a pause that crosses into awkwardness again, the armored man takes the flowers carefully.

“Thank you,” he says, stilted. Luke’s smile grows. “How much?”

Luke shakes his head. “Nothing; consider it a gift.”

Discomfort rolls off the man in waves, rippling into the Force. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Luke presses, feeling heat steal up his neck again. “If you’d like, I’ll charge you extra next time.”

It’s baiting - Luke already knew he wanted to see the armored man again, with or without the Force buzzing in his ear. It’s also a weakly veiled attempt to make it happen.

There’s a moment of quiet, the man shifts his stance in front of Luke, and Luke leans on the counter between them to rest his chin in his gloved palm with a smile. After another beat, the man huffs behind his helmet.

“Double next time,” he states. Luke’s grin grows.

“Certainly,” he agrees easily. He absolutely won’t follow through with it, but what harm is there? The shop can afford it.

The helmet moves in a nod. “Who do I ask for?”

“Luke,” Luke blurts, all semblance of calm he had been working to maintain gone. He fumbles to tuck some of his hair behind his ear as a distraction before he tries again. “My name is Luke.” 

Luke doesn’t tell him he’s the only one that runs the shop with his droid, his sister off at the Senate taking after their mother in a different way. There’s no need to ask for him, ever, but Luke wants him to.

The man nods again. “Thank you.” Then, almost a forced afterthought: “Luke.” After, he’s gone, the bell tinkling over the door and sunlight shining off the polished armor as he steps out.

Luke leans over the counter, stretching to catch a glimpse of the man again before the crowds of Galactic City swallow him from sight.

“Luke.”

Luke yelps, losing his balance against the counter and knocking over several spools of ribbon and a cup of markers. He whips around to look at Obi-Wan, having entirely forgotten his uncle was still in the shop. The older man’s eyebrows are raised nearly to his hairline, amusement clear in his expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

“U-uncle!” He stammers, face flushing worse than before; he’s caught and he knows it, but keeps his eyes down on his hands as he works to clear the fresh clutter. “I thought you’d left already.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan teases. He walks over to help Luke pick up the mess he made of the counter. “A friend of yours?”

Luke presses his lips together and winces. “Ah, no? Maybe? At least, not yet?”

Obi-Wan chuckles. “I’m sure.” He straightens the spools and tucks a few markers Luke had missed into the cup they scattered from. “It’s good to see Mandalorians are still comfortable coming into the city.”

Luke nods, realizing belatedly that his guest had been a Mandalorian - as if the armor didn’t tip him off, the myriad of weapons strapped to the man’s back and waist should have. Stars, Luke had been entirely distracted.

Luke blinks and thinks of his uncle’s close friend, the Duchess of Mandalore. “Regardless of their neutral stance during the Clone Wars, they were always welcome here, right?”

Obi-Wan nods, resting an elbow on the counter in a relaxed lean and looking into the busy walkway outside of the shop. “And still are. Some, however, are not so comfortable.”

Luke understands the difference between being told he could do something and actually feeling comfortable enough to do it. “Are you still in contact?” Obi-Wan hums, a questioning lilt. “With the Duchess?”

After a pause, Obi-Wan nods again. “I am.” A smile begins to curl in the corner of Luke’s lips, and Obi-Wan turns knowing eyes towards him. “Don’t give me that look, Luke. I’m being quite magnanimous about not mentioning the utter ridiculousness I witnessed a few moments ago.”

Luke’s face instantly flushes and he groans, rubbing both hands over his face. “I was such a mess, wasn’t I?”

“Perhaps,” his uncle answers, letting Luke down easy. He appreciates it, but knows he was a total disaster. 

“The Force was screaming at me, Master,” Luke continues, easily slipping back into the guidance he still seeks from his old Master. “I haven’t felt anything like that before. There’s something about him. I want him to come back.”

“He will,” Obi-Wan assures, making Luke bite back another smile. “I felt something as well, when you two spoke. Meditation may help you determine what exactly the Force is trying to tell you, and provide you guidance.” Luke nods, rubbing the back of his neck.

The Jedi Order has been more lenient in their old ways over the decades after the abrupt conclusion to the Clone Wars with the late Chancellor’s assassination at the hands of Separatists. That old thinking, particularly revolving around their prohibition for attachments and clear emotional dismissal, had led to the rise of the Sith beneath their noses, and also the near Fall to the Dark of Anakin Skywalker.

After the Chancellor’s true identity was revealed with his assassination, Anakin voiced his concerns and the temptations of power that could have cost the Jedi dearly; the tenants were reviewed and modified for a new era, one that nurtured healthy attachments and better understanding and control of good, selfless emotions. It was a hard lesson to learn, but one that even the Council had to admit was the correct way to the future of the Jedi.

Luke shudders to think about how different his life, and that of the galaxy as a whole, would be had things happened differently. He likely wouldn’t have been trained, wouldn’t be a Jedi, wouldn’t have his parents and sister and uncle. 

Very different, indeed.

“Thank you, Master,” he says with a broad smile. Obi-Wan quirks an eyebrow at him, eyes glinting in that teasing way of his. 

“Don’t thank me so soon,” he says, pushing away from the counter. “I’m sure your friend will return, and in the meantime, perhaps you should work on your...” Obi-Wan strokes his beard. “Composure, Master Skywalker.”

Luke flushes and buries his face in his arms with a groan. Obi-Wan’s laugh echoes around the shop long after he leaves, the bell announcing his departure.  

Chapter Text

Luke is almost ready to plant the Alderaanian flame-roses and flame-lilies the next time he sees the Mandalorian. He’s in the terrarium that is the entire second floor and roof of the shop, moving the heat box closer to the glass wall to try to capture more natural lighting, when he hears R2-D2 beeping up at him from the first floor.

“Yes, Artoo, I hear you, pal,” Luke calls, distracted. He promptly tunes out the astromech as he surveys the area - he could move some of the soil pods further over to the corner, free up the space around the compost unit a bit, and then haul those extra transport boxes into storage. Luke straightens back up, rubbing the back of his wrist over his forehead. Yes, that will give him the space and light he needs.

He’s almost done with moving the heat box where he wants it when he hears a shift in R2’s cadence from the first floor. Luke, opting to move everything by hand out of boredom and to give himself a light afternoon workout before he heads back to the temple, pauses. When he doesn’t hear his droid for several seconds, a strange feeling settles in his gut. He sets down the transport boxes he had just finished stacking up and goes to the rails at the edge of the second floor loft.

“Artoo?” Luke calls, rubbing his wrist with his cybernetic hand. He looks around briefly, searching through the canopy of flowers for blue and white metal, the worry in his gut growing. If there was a guest, he hadn’t heard the bell over R2’s chatter and his own movement, and after a steadying breath, Luke doesn’t feel anything new in the Force except - 

Luke’s eyes widen and his breath leaves him in a rush as he grabs desperately at the railing in front of him for balance. As soon as his eyes drop down to the second floor again, this time closer to where the front counter is, he sees the shimmer of polished beskar peeking through a display comprised entirely of hanging Queen’s Heart. The Force slams into him in waves - anxious distrust takes precedence, but beneath it is that same feeling from a few days prior, that breathless, weightless sensation from when the Mandalorian had first strolled into Luke’s shop.

Luke blinks and between one breath and the next, the world around him rushes back in. He realizes that his face is flushed with more than just exertion and R2-D2 has been shrilly beeping for him at the top of his little vocoder, rocking on his wheels just to the right of the Queen’s Heart and finally in Luke’s sight.

Luke can’t help but smile and laugh. “Artoo! I hear you, promise, I’m sorry. I’m coming.” Luke shakes his head and crosses to the ladder built into the wall of the loft. He takes the first few steps then slides down using the rails for the rest. When his boots hit the floor, R2 is immediately next to him and chastises Luke for ignoring him.

“I was listening, Artoo, I swear. I just - missed you calling me,” Luke says, rubbing the back of his neck. R2 doesn’t believe him for a second and says as such, rolling into the back of Luke’s legs to get him closer to the front of the store. “I’m going, I’m going!”

Once the Mandalorian is fully in Luke’s sight, the anxious distrust that roiled around in the Force eases into something more calm. It makes Luke’s smile widen - the anxiety must have been from the Mandalorian when he came in and found R2 instead of Luke at the front. 

“You came back,” Luke says, mentally blaming the breathy quality of his voice on exertion.

The man nods in greeting. “I did.”

Luke chuckles, dropping a hand to R2’s dome when the droid rolls up to settle next to him. “Looks like you met Artoo.”

The man hesitates this time. “...yes.”

Luke quirks an eyebrow at the man’s reply. The modulator in his helmet makes the tone of his voice hard to decipher, but Luke has a feeling he wasn’t exactly comfortable finding the shop manned by a droid, with or without the Force confirming extra clarity. Luke doesn’t press, and pats R2’s dome a second time. “Artoo, would you bring down those transport boxes and move them to storage?”

His droid beeps affirmatively and wheels away to the small freight elevator towards the back of the shop. Luke watches him go for a moment before turning back to the Mandalorian. “How are the velanie flowers doing? Did you need pointers?” He teases.

The Mandalorian shakes his helmet. “No, I need a new batch.”

Luke doesn’t mask his surprise. “So soon? Those usually live longer than a few days.”

“They’re, uh,” the man pauses, either trying to decide what to say or embarrassed by it. “A gift.”

This time, Luke does need to mask his emotion. He blinks for a moment, unsure truly what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this - the way the Force had been singing to him when they met and again now, how Luke’s spare thoughts had been filled with nothing but the man - disappointment was a good word for the feeling.

Luke knew there were other reasons for people to want flowers: parties and gatherings, celebrations of life, expressions of compassion in times of need - but the most popular was always for a partner. 

Luke rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and nods, attempting to put aside his disappointment to focus. “Alright, I can work with that.” He crosses to the counter and grabs a cloth to wipe the dust and dirt from his hands and sets off deeper into the shop. He hears steps hesitantly following behind him as he thinks.

Asking a few more questions would only hurt himself, but he couldn’t help but want more information - so, why not? “What’s the occasion?” Luke asks with false cheer, already dreading the answer.

“None,” the man grunts. “Just, a gift.”

Luke runs a hand through his hair and feels defeated; definitely a partner, then. Likely an unanticipated and delightful surprise. Luke supposes digging his own grave is what he gets for trying to pry. Still, he smiles ruefully, despite himself - those types of things are sweet and Luke can’t help but feel even more charmed by the man.

Suddenly inspired, Luke stops in front of a bundle of white blossoms with a light blue hue on the ends of their petals. He reaches out to move a few branches of a neighboring plant away and turns to his guest. “What do you think?”

The Mandalorian pauses from where he had been looking at Luke to turn towards the white flowers. “What are they?”

“Snowblooms,” Luke answers. He strokes down one lofty petal with his ungloved fingers, enjoying the velvet softness. “Soft and graceful, delicate but everlasting; these flowers can grow in the coldest and harshest of climates. My father found these on Hoth, of all places, if you can believe it.”

Luke grins over at the Mandalorian to find his visor is already turned to Luke again. “How does anything grow on Hoth?”

“That’s what I said!” Luke blurts with a laugh. “Force only knows, but these little things managed.” Luke taps his chin and hums. “Snowblooms would pair nicely with a few jade roses to make an elegant arrangement. How’s that sound?”

“Whatever you feel is best.” Luke lowers his eyes with a smile, his face flushing. He plucks a few of his favorite snowblooms before crossing to another aisle for the jade roses. There are a couple with a blue corolla close in hue to the edges of the snowblooms that Luke adds, carrying the thorned stems in his gloved hand. The Mandalorian trails along behind him almost awkwardly, like he’s too large for the space and isn’t sure how to maneuver. Luke can’t help but enjoy the juxtaposition of such a fierce warrior wandering through his rows of beautiful flowers. He bites the inside of his lip to keep his smile from growing without his permission.

Force, he must look absolutely insane.

Finally, he leads them back to the counter, flowers in hand, and sets about trimming and wrapping. Today he uses an emerald ribbon to compliment the roses and silver flimsi. After one more rotation, Luke feels good about the bouquet - were he to receive this from someone he cares about, he would feel honored and loved. The thought brings his flush back in full force, and he hopes the Mandalorian can’t tell through his tinted visor.

“Here you go,” he says, maybe a little too low and breathless, and passes the bouquet over the safety of the counter. “Uh, mind the thorns.” There’s a slight brush of the Mandalorian’s gloved fingers over Luke’s bare ones; if he were still holding the flowers he definitely would have dropped them. A shock slides up his arm and settles in his chest seconds before the Force starts vibrating through Luke’s blood. He pulls his hand back quickly and clears his throat, hoping his smile isn’t as awkward as it feels.

The Mandalorian’s helmet is, of course, expressionless, so Luke has no idea if he succeeds or not.

His voice doesn’t give anything away either. “How much?”

Luke can’t help it - he rests his elbows on the counter and leans forward, a mischievous smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Free of charge.”

A sigh ripples through the modulator, like the man isn’t surprised by Luke’s answer. “That isn’t what we agreed to.”

Luke shrugs. “My shop, my rules.”

“That isn’t smart business.”

“I’ll survive.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t speak for a moment, his visor locked on Luke. Luke sets his chin on his palm and stares back, eyebrows lifting in challenge. The slight raise of the counter from the rest of the floor puts Luke a little over eye-level with the other man; he tries to find the Mandalorian’s eyes through the visor while the silence stretches on.

“A trade instead,” the man finally speaks. His voice sounds rushed; Luke’s smirk grows.

“For what?” Luke asks, drumming his gloved fingers on the counter.

The Mandalorian drops his hand to a pouch strapped around his waist. Luke waits patiently, wondering what this man could possibly have on hand to offer him (there are several things that Luke could think of, of course, that the Force seems to still be shoving his nose in, had the Mandalorian not been there specifically to purchase flowers for his partner). He rifles in the pouch for a few seconds before pulling out a recyclable cooling jar, the inside filled with what looked like - 

“Is that blue milk custard?” Luke gasps in delight, his lips pulling in a broad smile. 

The Mandalorian nods, setting it down on the counter and pushing it forward with a nudge of his fingers. 

Luke shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t - how did you even get this here? I haven’t had it since I was training on Tatooine a decade ago.” Luke picks up the small container, cool to the touch, and chuckles. “Blue milk is one of the best things about that place.”

“That would be a start,” the Mandalorian continues, almost softly. “For the flowers.”

Luke, for only his own misery, knows he wouldn’t ever charge this man any credits for his flowers should he continue to be a patron. From what he’s recently learned about the Mandalorian people, they aren’t fans of being indebted to anyone outside of their own clan and always keep their word. 

If this quiet and sweet Mandalorian wants to trade Luke blue milk custard for his flowers, well, it wouldn’t really be kind of Luke to deny him.

“A fair trade, then,” Luke answers with a wink.

The Mandalorian appears to tense up, at odds with the reaction Luke had expected from accepting his offer. Still, Luke plants on a smile and leans back onto the counter. “Thank you, my friend.”

Friend - it would be better for Luke to start associating that word with this man now, before he sets himself up for more disappointment. 

The Mandalorian, seemingly done with the conversation, nods again and starts towards the door to the shop. Luke wistfully watches him go, sighing quietly. “Have a good rest of your day.”

The man pauses and looks back over his shoulder. “You, too.” Then he’s gone.

Luke continues to watch the door, eyes glazing as he locks onto that feeling in the Force anytime the Mandalorian is near. It’s only been the second time, and Luke is none the wiser about what it all means. He figures the Force wants the Mandalorian in his life in some capacity; he feels indescribably drawn to the man, that much he has been able to determine from meditation.

Still - sometimes he wishes the Force would be more clear with these sorts of things.

Luke has stared into nothing long enough that the sun has moved further and the cooling container holding his custard now sports condensation. He sighs with his whole body, starting from the marrow of his bones, and sags forward to rest his forehead on the cool metal of the counter.

“He has such a nice voice,” he mumbles to himself and the counter.

R2 calls out from the back of the shop, making Luke groan. He just wants to wallow in his own misery for a few more minutes, please.

“Yes, he’s gone,” Luke calls back, straightening up. He settles on the stool he keeps behind the counter, fishing in a drawer for a spoon he remembers seeing a day or so ago. R2 wheels his way from the back, beeping curses about the Mandalorian and fussing at Luke for not giving him the all-clear.

“Hey, that’s not very nice, Artoo,” Luke admonishes with affection, always delighted with the droid’s creativity for insults. “He’s just a private guy, that’s all.”

R2 doesn’t seem convinced, commenting that he likely poisoned the custard he traded Luke. Luke pauses in his search for the spoon and lifts an eyebrow at R2. Ah, so he could hear them the entire time, not really needing Luke to call him back. “What makes you think that?”

The astromech launches into how he remembers aiding Anakin’s Padawan and a close family friend, Ahsoka Tano, to escape a group of extremists armored exactly the same as Luke’s Mandalorian (his?) in the middle of the Clone Wars. During the story, Luke gives up on finding the elusive spoon and instead finds a roll of fresh foil that he twists and fashions into a makeshift scoop.

Sure, there’s likely several spoons in the break room, but this is right here.

“I’m sure not all Mandalorians are the same, Artoo - even if they may dress the same,” Luke assures. He takes his first spoonful of blue milk custard in over ten years and sighs with delight. “I mean look at me, I’m a Jedi that prefers black.” Luke gestures down at himself, foil scoop held between his teeth in a grin. He had taken his robes off in the loft to have less restriction while he moved things around, but he still wore his usual long sleeved black tunic and leggings tucked into black boots. 

“I’m not your average Jedi, either,” he continues, scooping another bite of custard. If the Mandalorian trades him custard for every batch of flowers for the rest of time, only Luke’s waistline would mind. Nothing some extra katas can’t fix.

R2 argues that Luke is different, his general person just radiates trust and pleasantness, whereas that Mandalorian was more like a suspicious scum you’d scrape from the bottom of your boot, making Luke snort. “Ha, you’re hilarious today, Artoo.”

R2, predictably, doesn’t agree.

Luke finishes his custard in short minutes, mourning how soon it was gone but still so grateful for the thoughtful trade. He feels like it may have been more in his favor than the Mandalorian’s, despite a flower arrangement like that usually totaling fifty credits at minimum.

His prize was indulgent and nostalgic and delivered to him by someone he was rapidly becoming enamored with. Absolutely a win/win for him.

R2 grumbles up at him as he settles back against the stool with a sigh, content. “Yes, Artoo. I feel fine. No poison, unfortunately.”

They rest together in silence for a few more minutes before R2 rolls around to straighten some things while Luke drifts off into a light meditation. He can’t help but think about the Mandalorian again, as he always seems to, even with the knowledge that he’s in a relationship that involves spontaneous flower deliveries. 

Luke had hoped that the Force was trying to tell him he had found someone who would become special to him, the same way it had for his father and mother. Although his parents’ special connection is both happy and romantic, Luke supposes whatever he has with the Mandalorian doesn’t have to be any less happy, even if it would need to remain platonic. 

Uncle Ben had alluded to providing his approval, and that was important to Luke. And he truly didn’t have many close friends outside of R2, Han, Chewie, Lando, and Ahsoka - his family notwithstanding; there were a few pilots he had befriended in the Republic army during his Jedi training, but they were rarely stationed on Coruscant. The other Jedi at the temple were kind and friendly, but Luke had not felt compelled to be close with any of them.

Luke is always friendly and open, willing to do anything and everything to help anyone, and yet he often found himself surrounded by the flowers in his shop or the temple gardens, alone.

Chapter Text

When Luke isn’t at the shop, he whiles away his time in the Jedi temple. It’s an easy enough assumption if predictable - he is a Jedi that lives there and contributes to teaching the younglings. Although he may sometimes be impatient or impulsive, something he clearly inherited from his father as Master Yoda likes to remind him, he often leads group meditations in the temple gardens.

He finds it easier to relax and fall more into his Master title when surrounded by the flora, some he has raised and some he hasn’t, and guide the younglings to be more attuned with the Force. Today he offers a topic - to feel the life of the flowers surrounding them, learn from all they have felt and seen - it was a simple focus but an exciting one. Some of the flowers in the temple gardens have survived several decades under careful care and love, having seen a number of great Jedi over time.

Once the younglings are settled, Luke sits on a raised rock facing them all and matches the pose he placed them in - back straight, legs crossed, hands on knees, and eyes closed. After a deep breath, Luke feels the pull of the Force instantly and settles into a light meditation.

After a moment, he feels a few of the younglings struggle to find their center and offers a gentle nudge in the Force, urging them to relax and breathe easy. They respond in kind and settle soon after. Luke smiles slightly, pleased; he feels out of his depth in a lot of things with life, but this is something he is comfortable with and good at.

Speaking of out of his depth - Luke thinks of the Mandalorian who has started coming to his shop on a semi-regular basis. This isn’t a new topic for his meditation by any means, but something that he wistfully ends up circling back to.

The Mandalorian now comes by every few days looking for a new arrangement. He doesn’t offer any more reason than he did the first or second time - a gift - but the regularity screams that these gifts are obviously for someone important to the Mandalorian or he wouldn’t be there so often. He still defers to Luke’s expertise, and Luke finds himself slowly providing the man his favorites - bell-shaped honeyblossoms with black lorchads and silver Tellanadan moonflowers; cascading red and yellow Jebwa flowers with pale pink Tarisian roses (yes, courting roses - they were for the man’s partner, so what’s it matter if Luke is living a little vicariously); rare, pure white Duran feather lilies with the blue and yellow ryoo of Naboo. He could name a half dozen more.

Luke had been visited by the Mandalorian several times over the last few weeks, after all.

He finds it safer to think about what the next type of arrangement will be for the Mandalorian than the man himself, or Luke’s growing feelings for him. Luke would lament the unfairness of it all, the lost opportunity, but he does still have the man in his life for a little longer, so Luke will enjoy his quiet companionship for what it is.

It isn’t like Luke has been too painfully obvious with his attraction - R2 would vehemently disagree with him and has - but he has been trying to be better about it. Almost all of the Jedi composure he has cultivated over the years flies out the airlock whenever he feels the ripple and simmer in the Force that slides through his veins and nearly burns him when the Mandalorian is near. The Force is trying to tell him something, something Luke has meditated on and not found for weeks, but he’s too stubborn to give up. He would ask Obi-Wan or his father for guidance, but Luke is too embarrassed to endure his uncle’s quiet amusement and definitely not ready for his father’s inevitable attempts to ‘help’. Maybe his mother could run interference for a while, but no doubt Obi-Wan has already spoken all about the Mandalorian to her after Luke’s disastrous introduction.

Oh, Force. It’s still ridiculous how fast he lost all of his composure, and he really hasn’t done much better since. 

Luke has a knack for filling silences; he can talk about anything and everything with little prompting, something that he knows is endlessly amusing to his few friends and family. So it comes as a surprise to no one that Luke does the same around the taciturn Mandalorian. He doesn’t feel annoyance from the other man through the Force when he really gets going like he can from others, usually going on and on about some interesting tidbit regarding the flowers or one of R2’s antics or generally what he had been up to between the Mandalorian’s visits. He listens, helmet nodding at the right times, and offers wry quips that usually startles a laugh from Luke.

The man has a dry sense of humor that Luke adores, and he doesn’t seem to mind Luke’s chatter - in fact, despite Luke almost begging him to interrupt or make him stop at any point, the Mandalorian doesn’t seem to see an issue.

(“I finally got the soil warm enough, you’d think being in a heat box and against two panes of glass would be enough for those roses, but I stand corrected. In fact, I - nevermind, I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this.”

“Why?”

“You’ve got better things to do than listen to me rant about roses, surely.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He paused, body language hesitant. “I don’t mind. Listening to you.”)

Stars, Luke had nearly combusted on the spot and his face had certainly burned like it was going to follow through. If only he could tell the other man he likes to listen to him too, his voice smooth and deep through the modulator, but he could never muster up the courage. Luke instead quietly wonders what he sounds like outside of his helmet.

Still, Luke arranged the bouquets the Mandalorian provided to his (surely sweet and obviously adored and totally not Luke) partner, and the Mandalorian traded him, usually, in sweets. There was more blue milk custard, but Luke had also been treated to a box of decadently fried pastries from a bakery further into the heart of the city, each one filled with a different berry paste; brightly colored macaroons in various fruit flavors that vaguely reminded Luke of a shop Han frequented when he upset Leia; dark chocolate bark sprinkled with bright red rock salt that was clearly imported from off-world and was definitely Luke’s favorite, second only to the custard.

It was sweet of him to keep bringing different treats, repeating only the ones Luke likes the most, and right in line with what Luke had been slowly learning about his personality - the Mandalorian seemed content and almost embarrassed with Luke’s growing delight in their trades. 

Although Luke almost felt like he was taking advantage of his guest - surely the time and effort he spent in tracking down the various foods weren’t worth the few minutes Luke spent putting together flowers and talking at him - but he didn’t seem to mind, so Luke didn’t either.

A garbled cooing causes Luke to open his eyes, blinking away affectionate thoughts of shining beskar, to look down at a youngling wandering over to him in the small clearing. Luke couldn’t help but smile; it was the youngling from Yoda’s species, older than Luke and both his parents but still so young in his race to be nothing more than a toddler. Luke rises from the rock and crosses the few steps left between them - the youngling had wandered quite far into the gardens to draw his attention, it seems, so it was only fair of Luke to meet him the last few feet.

“Hello, little one,” he murmurs, kneeling near the youngling. Force, he is cute - large, liquid dark brown eyes that hold a mix of curiosity and knowledge that compliments his small nose and overlarge, perked green ears. His robes are small and pleated to reveal his little toes sinking into the plush grass. Luke suddenly feels like he could spend hours with the child and not get bored. “What brings you so far into here, youngling?”

The child coos and untucks his hands from the sleeves of his robes, a small batch of delicate flowers in his tiny grasp that Luke immediately recognizes as starflowers. The thin overlapping blue petals shine brightly in the afternoon light when the child offers the handful up towards Luke; he squeaks insistently at Luke, clearly wanting him to take the flowers. Luke literally wants to melt into the grass, the child is so cute.

He chuckles and gently takes the flowers with a bright smile. “Thank you very much,” he says gracefully, feeling his smile spread at the child’s answering joy. The flowers are calm in his grasp and radiating, of all things, his own Force signature back at him. It’s a typical side-effect of all the time he spends in the gardens meditating and raising the flowers. He’s sure this little one wanted to collect a few from one of the many flowerbeds Luke had nurtured.

Luke steals a quick glance at his group of younglings, and after seeing them all undisturbed by him abandoning their joint session, settles more comfortably on the ground with his legs crossed again. “What is your name, little one?”

The child gurgles in reply, his small teeth showing in a smile. Luke feels the answer through the Force.

“Grogu, is it?” The child giggles and his large ears perk up immediately. Luke’s own smile widens as he gently pulls the youngling into his lap, settling Grogu’s back against his chest. “Well Grogu, let’s learn how to make a flower crown, how does that sound?”

Grogu brought Luke just enough flowers for him to fashion them a flower crown each. Luke teaches Grogu how to hold the flowers steady in one hand while he guides and weaves the stems through each other, his larger hands wrapping delicately around the smaller green ones of his impromptu student. 

After some trial and error and calm correction, Grogu’s crown is complete, fitting perfectly between his ears, and they’re starting on Luke’s when the first youngling rouses from meditation. After seeing what Luke and Grogu are working on and careful instruction from Luke about what could and couldn’t be used, the youngling sets off into the gardens to pick their own flowers, and soon enough, the rest of the younglings are quick to follow.

At the end of Luke’s meditation session, he has taught ten younglings how to find their center in nature, how to softly urge plants to grow and repair themselves with the kind influence of the Force, and the simple joys of a flower crown.

“Well,” Luke begins, looking at Grogu still settled in his lap and utterly adorable in his little blue flowers. The rest of the younglings have already left to continue their other lessons. “I suspect someone may be looking for you by now, you’ve been with me for a few hours at least.”

Luke cradles the child carefully to his chest and stands, Grogu warbling his delight at now being Luke’s height. He chuckles and straightens the little crown on Grogu’s head before booping his nose. “Let’s go look.”

Luke doesn’t have to look for long - Obi-Wan is there at the exit of the gardens, hands folded into the sleeves of his robes, and obviously waiting for him. He turns towards Luke as he approaches, eyebrow quirked and humor dancing in his eyes. “I see your meditation class went well, Master Skywalker.”

Luke grins and nods, mindful of the flowers in his hair. “Extremely, Master Kenobi, thank you for asking.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and shifts his posture. “One of the nanny droids was frantically looking for this little one. Sounds like he escaped his bed during mid-afternoon rest.”

Luke gasps dramatically at his uncle and holds Grogu tighter. “Not Grogu, no - he’s been with me all afternoon, helping my class! He didn’t break out of his room; did you, Grogu?” The child trills an agreeing sound and shakes his head. Luke turns back to Obi-Wan, expression serious. “See? Not a chance in Hoth.”

Obi-Wan chuckles and strokes his beard. “If you insist. Although if he’s gone for much longer, the droid may have to give his snack to another youngling...”

At the mention of food, Grogu whips his little face back around to Obi-Wan and wiggles with his whole body in Luke’s grasp. Luke laughs and holds the child tighter to prevent him from vibrating out of his grip. “Okay, okay! We’ll go straight there, I promise.”

Obi-Wan walks with Luke back towards the hall where the youngest of their wards stay, little Grogu chattering with excitement at Luke the entire way. Luke comments nonsense back to keep up his side of the conversation, spurring the small youngling to continue babbling. Obi-Wan smiles indulgently until he sees the frantic nanny droid from before and motions them over. 

“Oh, Grogu!” The feminine voice gasps, quickly taking Grogu from Luke’s arms. “I’m so sorry, Master Kenobi, Master Skywalker - I turned away for one moment and he was gone!”

Luke smiles and waves away their apologies, folding his hands behind his back. “Nothing to apologize for; he didn’t get very far, he’s been in the gardens with me for the last few hours.”

“Oh good,” they sigh with relief. “It’s a good thing Master Skywalker returned you when he did, you almost missed your father’s visit! He’ll be here any minute.” An extra arm spins from the nanny and pulls a small packet of cookies from one of the food storage tanks on their back. Grogu immediately perks up at the mention of his father and makes grabby hands at the cookies, causing Luke’s smile to grow even wider. The droid pops open the package, passes two cookies to Grogu, then tucks them away.

“Thank you again, Masters,” the nanny droid says with a slight nod. Obi-Wan and Luke return it, and then the droid is off, whisking Grogu away and further down the hall. Luke winks at the child and returns his wave until he’s out of sight.

He stands with Obi-Wan in silence for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek until he can’t take it anymore. “Do you think Master Yoda was that cute when he was a youngling?”

Obi-Wan slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle his surprised laughter. “Luke, please.”

Luke grins, looking at his Master. “What? I think it’s a fair question.” He casts a covert look about the empty hall around them. “Do you think he had a proportionate cane?”

Obi-Wan rubs his face with both hands and lets out a groan, but Luke can clearly see the smile he isn’t hiding well. He shrugs, nudging his uncle’s shoulder. “These are important questions of the Jedi, Uncle,” he says sagely. “The Force wants to know.”

“What the Force really wants to know is why all Skywalkers are bothersome troublemakers,” Obi-Wan counters, startling a delighted laugh from Luke.

Luke plops his flower crown onto Obi-Wan’s head in retaliation and quickly twirls away from the older man before he can swat at him. “One of the great mysteries of the galaxy, Master!”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes again and uses the Force to return Luke’s blue crown to his head with a slight twitch of his fingers. “Don’t you have a shop to maintain, deviant?”

Luke snaps his gloved fingers and points at Obi-Wan. “You’re right! I closed up early but Artoo and I need to receive a shipment.” He bows quickly. “I almost forgot, what would I do without you, Master?”

“Forget, apparently,” Obi-Wan replies with wry humor and a returning bow. Luke grins back and waves. 

“I’ll see you tonight for dinner, Master Kenobi. May the Force be with you.”

“And also with you.”

A quick glance at his chronometer shows that Luke is nearly late to meet the delivery already and calls ahead for R2 to meet him at the entrance to the city; the shop is only a half an hour away from the temple by foot, which should get them there with a few minutes to spare. 

Luke navigates the halls of the temple expertly, nodding at the Knights and other Masters he meets and waving to the enthusiastic younglings who call out to him. Soon he is striding down the steps of the temple and partially down the main pathway to the city when something familiar tugs at him in the Force. He glances over, expecting to see R2, and absolutely trips over his own feet when his eyes land on shining beskar armor instead.

Luke quickly reaches out to a nearby planter filled with some of Luke’s own Queen’s Heart to right himself, clearing his throat awkwardly. He hopes, somehow, that the other man hadn’t seen him, but the sure steps of the approaching Mandalorian tells Luke he definitely saw him.

“Luke,” the man greets once he’s only a few feet away. He holds out a hand, hesitantly, hovering near Luke’s elbow without actually touching him. “Are you alright?”

Luke swallows and ignores the embarrassed flush burning his cheeks, offering what he hopes is more of a grin than a grimace. “Never better! I’m just, ah, in a hurry and let my feet get ahead of me. It’s almost like they have a mind of their own.”

Amusement radiates from the Mandalorian, his helmet tilting in that charming way of his. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

Luke rolls his eyes, his expression loosening into something more genuine. “Now you sound like my uncle.”

“He must know what he’s talking about, then.”

“From a certain point of view.”

A soft huff escapes from the Mandalorian, one that Luke has come to identify as the sound of his laugh through the modulator of his helmet. Luke’s grin settles into something softer, enjoying the warmth that spreads through him and thinking not for the first time how much he enjoys the sound.

Luke knows he could make a further fool of himself outside of the Jedi temple by listening to the Mandalorian laugh until the sun finished setting and rose again for several more cycles, but he isn’t able to bask in the moment any longer.

“I’m sorry to cut this short,” Luke begins softly, and he hopes his tone conveys exactly how apologetic he feels. He has yet to spend any time with the Mandalorian without any flowers between them, and this feels like something rare that likely won’t repeat. He can’t imagine what business the other man may have outside of the Jedi temple, his armor shining like a mirage, untouchable, and Luke is saddened to end their chance meeting so soon. “I need to get to the shop for a delivery, and I’m already running late.”

The Mandalorian nods briefly and his hand drops from where it still hovered at Luke’s elbow. Luke will mourn the almost-touch another time as his comlink beeps to life, R2 already far ahead of him and wondering what the hold up is. He glances up and sees the droid wheeling in tight circles at the very edge of the temple walkway and sighs. “Artoo is always so impatient.”

“Wonder who he could get that from,” his companion quips.

Luke waves a hand in front of his chest, dismissing the comment, and winks. “I don’t know what you could possibly mean, Mandalorian.”

There’s a pause where Luke can’t help but keep grinning and looking at the armored man in front of him, feeling like he’s caught the man’s eyes beneath his visor. Something tells Luke he’s getting better and better at it.

The spell is broken when his comlink beeps again; Luke sighs. “I really should get going-”

“Your hair,” the Mandalorian says abruptly; Luke’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Huh?” He asks, gloved hand immediately flying up near his ear. “My hair, what?”

The Mandalorian shifts his stance, stepping closer to Luke. Luke swallows but doesn’t move away. That hesitant hand is back, this time hovering next to Luke’s own by his face, fingertips brushing the leather of Luke’s glove.

“Flowers,” the man states, his voice so low Luke may have missed it had he not been standing close. “The flowers in your hair.” Luke feels the heat from both of the man’s hands as he straightens the starflower crown Luke had all but forgotten in his rush out of the temple.

He can’t help it - his eyes flutter close and his breath stutters at the feeling of the Mandalorian standing closer than he ever has before, fingers brushing over his hair like Luke could be someone special. Luke is hit with a wave of longing so strong he’s worried he may fall over again and not be able to catch himself in time. He sways forward slightly, wanting to chase the sensation, when the Mandalorian finishes with the crown and one hand falls away; the other lingers - gloved fingertips grazing gently against Luke’s cheekbone and sending a shiver up his spine. Luke opens his eyes and stares up into the dark visor tilted down towards him.

“It looks nice, like your eyes,” the Mandalorian continues softly, like it’s only the two of them on the whole planet. 

The air is charged between them, the Force singing into Luke’s heart again like it does every time they’re together. For the first time since Luke passed his Trials, his hands tremble. He wants to lean his face into that simple touch, to hold that gloved hand in his and see how well they fit together.

Luke reaches his hand up to do just that when the sound of jets and a loud thump startles a yelp out of him. He whips to look over and sees R2 had gotten tired of waiting for him and decided to fly over to retrieve Luke himself. Luke presses his lips together in frustration and tries not let it show on his face. He turns back to the Mandalorian and is disappointed to see he’s taken a few steps back from Luke in the distraction. 

Luke smiles gently at the other man, hoping he’s successful in keeping his expression neutral while his heart still hammers away. “It looks like my ride is here,” he jokes weakly, not caring if it lands or not. He feels an answering wave of frustration so acute through the Force that he becomes annoyed for forgetting himself again and projecting his emotions so strongly. He tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robes and takes a step back, closer to R2. “Have a good rest of your day, Mandalorian.”

“You, too,” he answers after a moment. Luke nods his head in a slight bow and turns on his heel to head down the last few stairs with R2. When they get to the end of the temple walkway and are about to step into the bustle of Galactic City - R2 endlessly complaining about how late they are - Luke pauses to chance a look back over his shoulder.

The Mandalorian is still there and shining in the sunlight, helmet turned towards Luke, watching him. Luke feels himself flush and bites his bottom lip against a smile, turning his attention back towards the city.

Chapter Text

Luke could just scream.

After running into the Mandalorian outside of the Jedi temple, he rushes back to the shop and meets the annoyed Gungan who, at that point, had already been waiting on him for quite some time. R2 is kind enough to repeat how he’d told Luke they were going to be late numerous times so it wasn’t his fault, and in his guilt Luke presses a few extra credits into the Gungan’s hand for a tip after signing his name. Hopefully he wouldn’t report back to his mother how irresponsible Luke had been. 

After the flowers are removed from their crates and set aside to relax from the stresses of galactic travel, Luke allows himself to drift back to the minor moment he had shared with the Mandalorian.

It was impossibly sweet, and Luke had felt not only the Force singing for joy through his blood and very being, but his heart was content and full despite the frantic hammering that starts back up as he thinks of the other man. Luke relaxes against the counter and sighs, trying to hold onto the feeling of the Mandalorian’s warmth through the fingers of his gloves, the leather worn soft after years of use, skimming over his hair and face.

Luke wonders what his bare fingers would have felt like against the skin of his cheek; his eyes flutter close at the thought.

If only they were closer; if only Luke could be considered his partner - 

Luke flinches so hard his elbow slides out from under him and drops his chin to the counter. 

Oh, Force .

Luke had completely forgotten that the Mandalorian was already spoken for. For a moment, Luke had forgotten that the sole reason the beskar-clad man was even still in his life was to purchase flowers for his partner. His very lucky, obviously cared for partner - who wasn’t Luke, and would never be Luke.

So, Luke could just scream.

It would be a few days, historically, before Luke would see the Mandalorian again - Luke could practically set a chronometer to the frequency of the man’s visits - so he had some time to settle. He needs to let his disappointment go into the Force.

This was one of the sides of attachments that the Jedi still cautioned in their teachings, and previously a core reason for their need to prohibit them entirely.

The overwhelming want and need that could cloud judgement and take precedence over all else; Luke knew he wouldn’t have to worry about the possession side of this attachment because it would never come to be, but he did meditate on it, his disappointment, and the misguided jealousy. 

Even though his gloved fingers had felt wonderful grazing Luke’s hair when he adjusted that little flower crown, Luke needs to let it all go because it isn’t meant for him. He is not the Mandalorian’s partner, no matter how special he had felt in that moment.

This would be his own problem going forward, and he wouldn’t unconsciously place it on the Mandalorian. It was crushing, and not something he would continue to burden the other man with, however unknowingly the placement may be. Luke would hold himself back, and keep the man at a polite distance.

Luke feels he has a good handle on his desires the next time the Mandalorian comes by, exactly three days after he ran into him outside the temple.

He feels the Force react as it always does with him near, joyous and settled, but today Luke locks it away, taking a deep breath before he steps down from the counter.

“Good afternoon,” Luke says, keeping his tone welcoming but polite; if he can lose some of the familiarity he holds with the other man, he may be better off in the long run. The Mandalorian nods his head when he sees him and crosses the room to stand near him.

“Luke,” he answers in greeting, voice smooth and deep through the modulator; Luke carefully takes a step back when the Mandalorian comes to a close stop in front of him. He doesn’t comment on the action, if he notices, and Luke cannot tell from his body language.

“Do you have anything in mind for today?” Luke asks, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes. He does this to both stop himself from reaching out and to clench his fingers together out of sight; he’s already shaking, and it’s barely been a few minutes.

The Mandalorian’s helmet tilts in thought. “Yes; there was a request.”

Luke can’t stop his surprise, raising an eyebrow. That is a first. “What type of request?”

“The other day,” he begins, and Luke feels himself tensing and tries to stop it. “The flowers in your hair, the light ones.”

Luke fights to keep his expression neutral and bites the inside of his cheek. “Starflowers.”

He nods. “Those. Whatever you put together, he wants those to be included.”

Luke closes his eyes quickly to try to hide his wince - he? Luke feels like he’s suddenly shoved back by the Force and is suspiciously winded. His stomach plummets. So there could have been a chance, if perhaps Luke had been in another place at another time - 

“Luke?”

Luke opens his eyes, realizing too late that his mask has slipped and he now has a hand over his mouth, his eyes suddenly prickling like he may just start crying right on the spot - in clear view of the Mandalorian.

“Are you alright?” The Mandalorian sounds - concerned, his helmet tilted to match his tone. Luke feels worry ripple in the Force and swallows, lowering his hand with a shaky smile.

“Never better,” he lies and blinks quickly, knowing he isn’t trying as hard as he should to put his facade back in place. Perhaps when he wanders the aisles of flowers to fill the request, he can take the seconds he needs, unwatched, to pull himself together.

There’s a moment where it seems like the Mandalorian may call him out on it, but the moment passes and he doesn’t. Instead he nods. Luke takes a deep breath.

“Starflowers, alright,” he repeats. “I’ll be back.” Luke lowers his eyes and steps around the other man, further away than he normally would. When he hears armor shift to follow him, he pauses and adds over his shoulder: “Please wait here.”

Despite this being a complete break in their routine, the Mandalorian doesn’t follow him and Luke, for once, is grateful.

He continues on and gathers a large bunch of starflowers in his gloved hand - 

(“It looks nice.”)

- wanting to make this flower the centerpiece, and then drifts along the aisles, looking for a color and shape that will compliment the delicate petals without distracting from them too much -

(“Like your eyes.”)  

- so Luke settles on blueblossoms and a few purple passions. A cooler color palette, and something that unconsciously echoes his quiet despair.

A little dramatic, sure, but the Mandalorian would never need to know.

When he returns back to the front of the shop, he’s surprised to see the Mandalorian hasn’t moved aside from crossing his arms over his chest. He is still facing the aisle that Luke had disappeared to, and turns toward Luke when he emerges from a different place a few feet down.

Luke smiles weakly at him and retreats to the relative safety behind the counter, the other man following him silently.

He trims and wraps in silence and hands the bouquet over in the same manner. For a horrifyingly long moment, the Mandalorian doesn’t move to take the flowers and Luke feels that he’s been caught.

Finally he reaches out and Luke is careful to not have their hands touch. 

“What are these?” He asks.

Luke busies himself with folding the remaining clear flimsi he had wrapped the flowers in and tucking it away behind him. “Starflowers, blueblossoms, and purple passions,” he answers simply. He hopes he isn’t too transparent with his disengagement, but he really needs the Mandalorian to leave so he can close up the shop and focus on something else. 

Feeling that he was ready to face this man again had been a mistake.

The Mandalorian either doesn’t realize what Luke is trying to do or is blatantly ignoring it. “Do they mean anything?”

Luke blinks; he already shared the story behind the starflowers the last time he picked them, and given the very recent history Luke himself has with the delicate flowers, he doesn’t want to talk about them. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly through his nose before answering. “Blueblossoms represent continuous longing, and purple passions are for enduring happiness.”

The man hums, the sound slightly distorted by his helmet’s modulator as it always is. He tilts his visor to look more closely at the flowers in his hand. “Those seem contradictory.”

Luke’s heart hammers painfully in his chest - really, does this man have no idea? “That depends on the outcome.”

The Mandalorian’s visor turns towards him again. “Which do you prefer?”

Luke pauses, his mouth working but no words escaping. He has to know; this armored, untouchable man, he has to know what he’s doing to Luke. Luke would never have thought the Mandalorian cruel in this way, which means he must truly not know, but - how can he not?

Luke feels cold in the knowledge that every single thing , every feeling and moment and reaction, is on his side, and only his.

“Both,” Luke answers once he finds his voice, tone simultaneously soft and harsh. “Enduring happiness isn’t without longing. I imagine I would still long to keep that happiness, so it would never end.”

To want like that would require guidance, guidance Luke is well aware that he would always need. He feels things so fiercely, so deeply, he would have been a hard Jedi to train had he been brought up in the old ways. Likely, he wouldn’t have been trained at all, the ever present fear he would turn to the Dark side of the Force dominating anything he would have grown to accomplish.

The flower shop is immediately silent and stifling; Luke swallows and shakes his head, pasting on a shaking smile. “Would that be all today, Mandalorian?”

Luke hopes it is; he really needs to get a hold of himself. This visit has been exceptionally dramatic, even for him, and he is abruptly emotionally exhausted.

“Are you happy, Luke?”

The question is quiet, spoken low, but undeniably from the man on the other side of Luke’s counter. 

Luke pauses and just - can’t. He can’t - answer, he can’t breathe, suddenly, and he can’t handle this. Three days of meditation after the temple wasn’t enough, clearly; the Force must be mocking him, teasing him with joy and fulfillment and the person that seemingly holds all of it in his gloves is asking him if he’s happy like it was even an option in all of Luke’s current loneliness and - 

The Force simmers with distress, and Luke realizes he’s crying. Tears have dripped down his face and chin to land on the skin of his left hand. He looks down, mildly surprised, as if the result of his spiraling thoughts isn’t actually coming from him at all, regarding it as one would the sky when it looks like it may rain but hasn’t made up its mind.

He reasons this is overdue, and runs his tongue over his dry lips, tasting the salt of his tears.

The distress continues and bleeds into helpless anguish, and it takes much, much longer than normal for Luke to realize it isn’t himself projecting, but rather coming from the only other person in the room, there to witness his crumbling.

Luke takes a shuddering breath and flicks his eyes up to the Mandalorian, both the balm and the reason for his plight, and starts when he sees the same gloved hand that stroked his cheek hovering in the air between them, reaching for Luke. Luke is sure the Mandalorian means to only provide comfort, but he panics - don’t touch me again, please, I couldn’t bear it - and flinches back so abruptly he crashes against the cubbies behind the counter that hold all the different colored flimsi wrapping. Some slither out and flutter to the floor as the cubbies rock, but Luke closes his eyes against the cascade of color and roughly shakes his head. He hastily wipes at his own face and ducks away, hurrying to the small break room at the back of the shop and wanting to put as much space between him and the man at the counter as possible. 

It’s something he’s never wanted to do before today, and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration at the conflicting longing that still shoots through him.

Luke’s sure that he hears his name but ignores the call. He doesn’t stop until he has the sliding door of the break room closed and locked, slipping down to the floor and wrapping his arms around his legs. He tucks his face into the space between his knees and chest and sobs, tightening his grip. 

This behavior is entirely unacceptable of not only a Jedi Master but a man his age - he’s close to thirty, and he cannot grasp his emotions enough to tuck them away and breakdown at a more appropriate time (or preferably not at all, if he’s being honest). But, keeping in line with honesty, it was overdue - how long had he been wondering, chipping away at his own composure and acceptance when the Force keeps screaming at him that there is more to be had? How can he be expected to keep it all in, all under control, when the longing is so strong it becomes suffocating? When the loneliness chokes him?

There were so many factors that Luke could hold onto in a facsimile of acceptance - the Mandalorian could not feel what Luke felt in the Force and had no idea what it was trying to tell them; Luke could tell himself he enjoys and is fine with the man’s companionship as only friendship, and still wants to learn more about him, if allowed; there could be no way the Mandalorian shared Luke’s preferences, let alone his feelings.

And yet, the Mandalorian had carelessly given him something dangerous. Hope. The man had no way of knowing, had no reason to believe such kind gestures and simple conversation would ignite such hope in Luke that it was excruciating.

Luke gasps and runs his hands through his hair, one after the next, over and over, eyes squeezed shut against the tears that wouldn’t stop. Now he knew there could have been an option, that maybe Luke could have been an option - 

He has to stop that line of thinking, he isn’t doing himself any favors. It is still early afternoon, and the shop has to be open. Luke could have R2 watch the front for a while, but he would need to come out eventually. Perhaps just long enough for the Mandalorian to leave? Then Luke could finish the day without further heartbreak.

Luke pings R2 quietly over his wrist comm, clearing his throat before speaking but knowing it wouldn’t really matter. “Artoo, can you watch the front for a bit?”

The astromech asks the question Luke was expecting, clearly hearing the choked emotion in his voice.

“No,” he croaks, then clears his throat again. “But I will be, eventually.”

R2 confirms that he’ll watch the front without any more questions, and Luke gratefully rests his forehead back on his knees, willing the tears to stop. He stays like that for what feels like hours but really is only half of one, before he rises to splash water on his face in the break room sink. He avoids his reflection and briefly pats a damp towel over his face to rid as much of the evidence of his crying as he can.

When he steps out into the shop again, pulling his hood up to hide whatever nest he had made of his hair, R2 trills sadly at him, and Luke offers him a weak smile in return and pats his dome. Luke doesn’t speak as he moves over to the counter, expecting to see the mess he left behind, but stops.

“Artoo,” he calls, voice still hoarse. The droid beeps back. “Did you clean up the flimsi?”

R2 claims he didn’t touch anything. Luke blinks and steps closer.

The flimsi is folded away in spectrum order, corners neat, like Luke had done it himself.

On the counter sits a small box with several dark chocolate bars sprinkled with red rock salt and a travel container of blue milk custard.

Luke covers his mouth to better swallow a rising sob and feels fresh tears prick at his eyes; he wants to go back to the break room and not come back out.

He closes the shop early and meditates on the rooftop terrarium instead.

When the third day comes back around and the Mandalorian doesn’t appear, Luke pretends it is for the best; he needs more time to be able to hold himself together better, for his own sake.

The next visit is nearly a week later.

(Luke had since meditated on his own countless times, trying and failing to release his anxiety and hope and disappointment and loneliness into the Force, and finally sought his uncle’s guidance. The only other person who understood what Luke was experiencing after having seen it first hand, Obi-Wan was able to shed some clarity.

Specifically, he told Luke in so many words to stop being a fool and to simply have a conversation, like an adult.

“This bothers you, Luke,” Obi-Wan said.

“More than anything ever has, Uncle,” Luke answered, softly. Luke had, predictably, lost sleep over all of this, waking in the middle of the night to seek more guidance from the Force through meditation, and still it continued to elude him. “I cannot release this like I should. It should be simple.”

“This could be something powerful for you,” Obi-Wan continued. “Perhaps, it shouldn’t be released. The Force has led you as far as it can; the rest is up to you.”

Luke sighed. “I don’t understand, Master.”

There was a long pause, during which Luke felt particularly judged and didn’t care for it. “If I understood after all of my hours of meditation, I wouldn’t be here,” Luke snapped. Obi-Wan simply blinked at him; Luke mumbled an apology and ran a hand through his hair.

“You are tired,” his uncle said, accepting his apology with ease. “Sleep well tonight with the knowledge that you will change this next time.”

“But how?” Luke begged. “I don’t know how to, I don’t understand. This is more complicated than simply releasing it into the Force and moving on.”

Obi-Wan leveled him with an expression so deadpan Luke felt like a child again. “You will be an adult and talk to your Mandalorian, and then you will feel incredibly silly once you realize how simple things will be.”

Luke wasn’t so sure but he didn’t dare say that to his uncle (again) , and tried to sleep that night.)

After having missed his last two usual visits, the Mandalorian shows up for the third. Luke, unsure when the man would return but confident he would, is better prepared for this visit.

He had been sleeping better after speaking with Obi-Wan, something he always values from his uncle, even though the old man often speaks in riddles. Luke still isn’t sure how to even begin the conversation he knows should happen, and decides to let the Force guide him.

Speaking of - the Force screams at him before the Mandalorian even walks through the sliding glass door of the shop, bell tinkling brightly, and Luke feels a genuine smile pull at his lips for the first time in days. Luke stays behind the counter, opting for the other to come to him for once, and still feeling he needs the quiet safety of the counter between the two of them. 

The Mandalorian appears to step cautiously into the shop, looking first up at the second floor loft when Luke doesn’t immediately greet him, obviously looking for him. Luke senses uncertainty trickle into the Force, and Luke feels slightly guilty as a result.

The Mandalorian isn’t sure if he’s welcome here any longer, and Luke is certain he might just leave before Luke has a chance to say anything.

He clears his throat to get the man’s attention. “Good afternoon.”

That polished helmet snaps towards him and holds his gaze. There’s a long moment where the man doesn’t say anything, and Luke wonders if he may turn and leave anyway.

Instead, he simply says, his tone careful: “Luke.”

There is so much caution and concern packed into his single-syllable name, it makes Luke feel warm. Still, he pushes the feeling away and smiles. “How have you been?”

“I should be asking you that,” is the gruff, almost immediate, reply, and Luke feels something like shame blend into the caution around the man. “I...” He stops, taking a hesitant step closer to the counter. “I didn’t mean to upset you, last time.”

Luke shakes his head, dismissing the apology. “That was no fault of yours, Mandalorian.” Regardless of it being about him, it was absolutely not his fault; Luke figures a little bit of extra honesty is needed. “Your question was helpful, and something I needed to meditate on.”

That is true, even if Luke is no closer to releasing any of his feelings now than he was before, he at least had an additional view to focus on. He thinks of Obi-Wan’s advice, that he should speak through his feelings about the Mandalorian to the Mandalorian, but he still isn’t convinced of the value.

It won’t change the outcome, after all.

“You are a Jedi,” the Mandalorian states, now closer to the counter. Relief floods the Force from him. Luke sits, perched on the stool behind the counter, and makes no move to lean into the space between them like he would have before the last visit. The distance helps.

“Like my father before me,” Luke confirms, hands folded between his knees.

“I suspected, but wasn’t sure until I saw you outside the temple.”

Luke can’t help but grin slyly, used to hearing such things. “You could say I’m one of the more... eccentric Jedi in the Order.”

The Mandalorian’s soft chuckle warms the air between them and the breath in Luke’s chest. “If you’re referring to your robes of choice, I can understand.”

Luke laughs with him. “You’ve figured me out, Mandalorian.” He releases his hands and crosses his arms over his chest instead, leaning more comfortably against the cubbies at his back and resting one leg over the other. “The Council was pretty exasperated when I started taking after my father, but not surprised.”

The Mandalorian hums, now so close to the counter he could rest against it. After a moment, he does, settling his forearm across the edge; the beskar vambrace shines as bright as the rest of his armor. His body language is more settled in the face of Luke’s own relaxed posture, and the Force simmers with calm contentment around him.

Luke feels the longing begin to build within him, and takes a deep breath.

“What can I help with today, Mandalorian?” Luke asks, trying to get back to business. He keeps his tone light, his posture relaxed. “Any new requests?”

After a moment, the helmet slowly shakes. “No, nothing in particular.”

Luke isn’t sure if he’s being entirely honest or not, after how Luke had reacted the previous time, but Luke accepts his answer.

“Jedi’s choice, then?” He teases softly, smiling. The Mandalorian gives a jerky nod.

Luke nods back and slips from the stool to walk further into the many aisles of flowers. He doesn’t hear the Mandalorian following him, and bites his bottom lip.

Distance has helped - distance from seeing the other man, distance from the cocktail of swirling emotions that fight to the surface in Luke when he’s around, distance from him physically now, when he’s back in Luke’s presence - but, this isn’t the Mandalorian’s problem, it is Luke’s, and it isn’t fair of Luke to ask him to stay put again.

“Come look, Mandalorian,” Luke says, turning slightly to look at the man in beskar still at his counter. “I have something new in mind, today.”

As if only waiting for Luke’s permission, the Mandalorian pushes away from the counter without hesitation and follows a few steps behind Luke.

Luke leads them towards the back of the shop, to an area that contains rows and rows of potted flowers. He stops before a crimson orchid, the center of its petals dotted with deeper maroon flecks. Luke feels the Mandalorian stop a pace away from him, close enough he could feel the heat of him through the armor if Luke lets his mind wander.

“I thought, instead of a bouquet that only lasts for a few days or a week at most, you might be more interested in a flower than can be kept up with,” Luke says. He isn’t wearing his robes today so he has nowhere to hide his trembling hands; he hopes he isn’t being too transparent. “This is a blood orchid, named for the color of its petals, and is graceful and delicate.”

The Mandalorian looks at the flower for a moment before turning fully towards Luke. “No,” he says simply.

Luke blinks and barely turns to meet the man’s gaze, keeping his body angled away despite how close the other man is standing. “Why?”

Luke wants to know if the Mandalorian can see through to his desperation; if he takes a living flower, it would mean there wouldn’t be as much of a need to come to Naberrie Blooms so often.

Not as much of a need to see Luke so often, either.

“The upkeep isn’t manageable,” the Mandalorian answers, his voice soft. Luke swallows. “The arrangements are better.”

Luke doesn’t blink, searching the visor of the man beside him, trying to read him. The Force around him is surprisingly silent except for the usual simmering and singing when the Mandalorian is near, as if it’s holding its breath to match Luke. Luke can’t read his body language from so close, keeping his eyes wide and locked on where he feels the other man’s eyes are behind the tinted glass, and slowly lets out a breath.

“Very well, Mandalorian,” he answers, and feels something like relief nudging him through the Force. 

Part of Luke wants to grab that helmet and shake, demanding to know why the Mandalorian keeps doing this to him, it just isn’t fair , but he doesn’t.

Perhaps he should straighten out his feelings and talk to him after all, like Obi-Wan suggested.

A soft touch on his elbow makes Luke flinch; he looks down sharply to see the Mandalorian’s gloved hand there, lingering, as if asking for permission. When Luke doesn’t pull away, the grip becomes more sure and tightens. Luke swallows against his racing heart and looks back up at the Mandalorian, still standing so close.

“Call me Din,” he says quietly, apropos of nothing. “You keep calling me ‘Mandalorian’, and I realized I - my name is Din Djarin.”

Luke lets out a shuddering breath, his lips trembling on the exhale, and the shaking in his hands double. As if he can feel it, the grip on his elbow tightens, and the Mandalorian - Din - rubs his thumb in tentative circles, causing Luke’s skin to burn under the sleeve of his tunic.

Din is standing close enough Luke knows he would have been able to feel his breath had he not been wearing his helmet; instead, he watches his own fog against the beskar before him. A flush climbs up his neck and face, flooding Luke’s mind with thoughts of being close enough to kiss Din if that helmet wasn’t between them. He closes his eyes and bites at his bottom lip, trying to lock those thoughts away with Din still so close and so, so unobtainable.

His eyes snap open when he feels another tentative touch, this time on his shoulder, and Luke allows himself to be turned, moved closer into the almost-embrace of Din’s armor. It’s like he’s in a trance and can’t stop the gentle tugging on his shoulder and elbow. Luke could break out of the hold easily; Din knows he is a Jedi, and Mandalorian or not, a Jedi isn’t to be underestimated.

But Din keeps the touches light and clearly broadcasted so Luke could pull away, if he wants to, but Luke doesn’t want to.

Once Din has Luke facing him, his gloved fingers trail up along Luke’s neck to his chin, leaving shivers in the wake of his touch. Luke feels his breath stolen, his heart racing, and looks up when the slight pressure on his chin urges him to. He stares into Din’s visor, hardly blinking, and entirely certain that he has locked eyes with the man beneath the helmet.

“Luke,” Din murmurs, and Luke feels like he’s back outside the Jedi temple again and they’re the only two people on the entire planet. 

Luke swallows and says back just as softly: “Yes?”

Din’s hand moves along the shape of Luke’s jaw to his cheek and up, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “I - ”

“Hello? Is there anyone here?” 

Luke jolts, his eyes widening. He hadn’t heard the bell above the door at all, so caught up as he was with Din. He turns only his face away from Din and wets his lips, clearing his throat slightly. “I’ll be right there!” he calls, pitching his voice to carry to the front of the shop.

He starts to turn back to apologize to Din and step away when the man’s hand drops to the back of his neck, pulling him forward. 

Din’s helmet rests against his forehead gently, the beskar cool against Luke’s heated skin. He holds Luke there, close, one hand still on his elbow; Luke, his breath starting to quicken and his heart pounding again, carefully rests his hands on Din’s shoulders and leans in to return the pressure against his forehead.

Luke realizes that he isn’t the only one affected; Din’s shoulders raise and fall in a short rhythm, and Luke can just hear harsh breathing against the helmet’s modulator. 

Something warm settles in him, bringing a fresh flush to his face and making Luke smile. The Force sings through his veins and hums pleasantly around them, settled and content.

Perhaps, Luke could be allowed to enjoy this.

Another moment passes before Din starts to pull back. Really, Luke could have stayed there for far longer, but the annoyance prickling in the Force at the front of his shop reminds him that he shouldn’t. Din squeezes his elbow softly before his hand drops away entirely, and Luke can hear him clear his throat; Luke’s hands fall back to his sides.

“You should get back to work.”

Luke, suddenly feeling giddy with treacherous hope, nods, but makes no move towards the suggestion. “I should.”

Din nods back, slowly. “I’ll - come back later.” 

Luke feels a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his face still so flushed he should be embarrassed. “Will you?”

It seems that all Din can do is nod, so he does. Luke ducks his head and smiles, finally moving away from the other man to go back to work. He bites his lip against looking over his shoulder and instead focuses on controlling his expression and heart rate before he gets to the front of the shop. 

An annoyed Rodian female is tapping her foot when Luke emerges from the flowers, her arms crossed over her chest. She huffs when she sees him.

“My apologies; I was taking care of a few things in the back. Welcome to Naberrie Blooms, what brings you in today?”

Luke listens to her talk through needing flowers for her daughter’s wedding, the date set in a few short weeks, and Luke hums along at all the right times, pulling over a datapad to take notes. Long minutes pass before he feels eyes on him and glances to see Din standing aside, out of the Rodian’s sight, watching him.

Luke pauses and meets his gaze, smiling warmly, before turning his attention back to the Rodian. He listens for the bell over the door that signals Din’s departure, mind still reeling from the quiet intimacy they shared in front of the blood orchids, and asks a question about the wedding’s theme.

Chapter Text

After the Rodian leaves, Luke has a full order that he will need to pull together over the next few weeks. The main flowers of the wedding will be onuumu, a lotus-like plant native to Ithor that floats on water and comes in several varying shades of pinks and purples. The Rodian said that her daughter met her fiancé on Ithor, and they wanted a reminder of where they met at the wedding.

It was all very romantic, if you asked Luke.

“It is romantic, isn’t it, Artoo?” He calls to the droid after he sets the datapad aside, the Rodian having paid the deposit and left a few minutes before.

The astromech beeps at him, telling Luke that he didn’t stick around for the conversation after Luke came out from the back and would need a reminder.

“The flowers, they want the flowers from the world they met at the wedding,” Luke answers, slowly making his way back to the potted plants in the back of the shop, his hands clasped behind his back. R2 wheels a few feet behind him, trilling about how it will be nice to have a detail so special for them.

“Exactly!” Luke exclaims, spinning on his heels to crouch down in front of R2 and smiling brightly. “It would be a nice symbol for them, right? To always see that flower and think of when they met each other, even when they aren’t together.”

R2 agrees and wonders how many flowers Luke may have picked over the years being used the same way for other couples.

Luke stands and taps his chin in thought. “That’s a good question, Artoo, and also terribly romantic.” He turns back to the droid and pats his dome affectionately. “I think I’ve been rubbing off on you too much.”

R2 beeps rapidly in what Luke has always felt was laughter for the droid, who then regales him with a story about how he had to deliver flowers to Padmé from Anakin on more than one occasion.

Luke listens to the story with a soft smile, wandering to stand before a tank that occupies half of the back wall of Naberrie Blooms. The break room door separates the tank from the display of potted flowers; the rest of the wall is a beautiful, custom-built waterfall tank with several divided layers hosting a variety of aquatic plants and flowers. Luke uses the Force to pull a step ladder over and climbs to the top rung, resting his forearms over the handle to lean closer.

“I only have a few onuumu here, so we’ll need to order more from my parents,” Luke murmurs to himself, studying the pastel pink and dark purple bulbs before him. “These should be mature by then, but those others will need to be delivered next week.”

R2 is still fussing about when he moonlighted as Anakin’s confidant about his relationship with Padmé, even before C-3PO knew, when Luke jumps back down to the floor from the step ladder. Luke can’t help but grin at the undeniable pride in the little astromech’s tone while he waves the ladder back into hiding with the Force.

“It sounds like you didn’t mind so much, Artoo,” Luke comments, crossing his arms over his chest.

R2 sounds almost offended that Luke would have thought he minded and tells him as such. After all, had R2 not helped Anakin keep his relationship with Padmé on the up and up, he would never be in Luke’s care today.

Luke smiles softly and ducks his head, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose that’s true, Artoo. You’re always so insightful.”

R2, likely knowing he could get away with it after that comment, graciously asks Luke if he would like his help with the Mandalorian.

Luke barks a surprised laugh and immediately feels his cheeks flush. “Artoo! Does it look like I need help?”

Unsurprisingly, R2’s unimpressed single beep is loud and clear: yes.

Luke hides his growing grin behind his gloved hand. “Alright, alright, you’re right. I’m not really doing all that great on this one. They must have taught this at the Academy when I was out sick or something.” 

R2 beeps in agreement way too quick for Luke’s liking. 

“In my defense, in my defense!” He hastens to add, chuckling over R2’s beeping laughter. “I thought he wasn’t...available? Or interested. Well, I’m still not sure if he’s available, but...” 

Luke looks over at the blood orchids and thinks of Din’s stuttered breathing behind his helmet, the quick rise and fall of his shoulders under Luke’s hands while they stood together, and Din’s helmet pressed to Luke’s forehead. He smiles and closes his eyes, remembering the cool press of beskar warming under his skin.

“I have a good feeling about it, now,” Luke finishes and opens his eyes, dropping his hands to his hips.

R2 trills beside him, wheeling up and nudging against his thigh. He looks down and feels a confused frown pulling at his lips. “Huh? What flower would I pick for what?”

R2’s matter-of-fact answer has Luke burying his face in his palms with a humiliated groan.

“Why are you doing this to me, Artoo? No, I haven’t thought about what flower I would have at my extremely non-existent wedding.”

R2 wheels in a tight circle as if to shrug, his dubious beeping telling Luke all he needs to know about how much the droid believes him. Luke watches R2 roll away, chirping about hurrying up to place the order for the Rodian wedding, but doesn’t immediately follow after him.

His eyes flick back to the blood orchids, and his traitorous heart starts to race.

‘Later’ could mean any time after, well, that specific moment in time - it’s the definition of the word, of course - but Luke can’t find a useful way to spend however much time meets this particular criteria for ‘later’.

After he and R2 finish typing in and sending the order to Luke’s father, Luke doesn’t have much else to do for the rest of the day but wait for more guests. A quick glance at his chronometer confirms that it’s too early to close the shop, and really - Din could come back at any point, so Luke doesn’t want to do that until he’s literally at the close of business and the decision is made for him.

He stands in the center of the shop, hands on his hips, and slowly spins on his heel. Even if he didn’t have R2 around to help, Luke takes more than a little bit of pride in keeping the shop clean and tidy. He’s quick to sweep or dust or rotate displays, and now is no exception - the floor is spotless and free of dead leaves and petals, R2 having polished the tile the night before, and all the flowers the Gungan had brought the other day are already out on display.

Luke sighs once he completes his slow circuit, unable to find anything to occupy his time, and huffs another sigh directed up that flutters his bangs. He quickly ruffles his hair back in place with his left hand and taps his gloved fingers against his belt.

After another moment, Luke folds his hands behind his neck and drops his head back with a groan.

“Artoo,” he complains. “What do I do?”

R2 beeps from the terrarium, reminding Luke he could kill time at the temple. 

“But that’s not here, what if he comes back while I’m not here?”

R2 replies that he could always just go and find the Mandalorian, how hard could it be?

“I don’t know where to start, Artoo, I’ve only seen him here and once outside the temple.”

The astromech reiterates his suggestion to go to the temple.

“I doubt that’s repeatable. What reason could Din have at the Jedi Temple?”

R2 offers that he could leave a potted flower with his private comlink number written on a card outside of the shop and take a chance on the temple anyway.

“Artoo!” Luke whines. 

Luke’s ever-faithful, loyal, immensely patient, understanding droid just doesn’t know what Luke wants him to say, then.

Luke, realizing he’s being difficult without really meaning to (this time), shakes his head with a grin. “Sorry, Artoo. I really do appreciate your suggestions. I think I’m just - restless. I feel like I’m on the edge of something, something important.” He pauses, looking up at the loft and seeing R2 at the top of the ladder, listening to him. “I hate to say it, but Uncle Ben is right - I’m getting impatient. I should have just talked it all through with him earlier.”

R2’s dome swivels from side to side and he wheels away, beeping about not really being surprised, impatience is a shared Skywalker trait, and Luke has met his father, right?

Luke snickers.

Ultimately, the decision is made for him - his uncle’s ears must have been burning, because Luke has hardly turned to take a seat behind the counter again when his comlink beeps. He looks to see a transmission from Obi-Wan, and opens the line.

“Good afternoon, Master Kenobi,” Luke answers serenely when his Master’s holo appears. The formality makes his uncle immediately roll his eyes; Luke bites the inside of his lip to stop a spreading smile.

“How are you, nephew?” Obi-Wan counters, his eyebrows raised. “Are you busy?”

Luke feels that the timing for the call is far too coincidental, but he isn’t sure that R2 could have had enough time to call for Obi-Wan between their conversation ending and this one beginning. “Doing well, Master. I’ve just finished placing an order for a Rodian wedding in a few weeks. It sounds like it will be lovely.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Obi-Wan agrees. “What are the colors?”

“Pink and violet,” Luke answers. “They want onuumu for the centerpieces.”

Obi-Wan hums. “Those will go well with their color choices, then.”

Luke suddenly realizes he’s been rubbing off not only on R2, but Obi-Wan as well. He doubts his uncle would have so much knowledge of indulgent flora were it not for all the time he spends at Naberrie Blooms. Jedi Masters tend to have a wealth of unusual knowledge, but this type of thing was entirely too random.

“Well, it sounds like you have some time on your hands, then,” Obi-Wan continues, tone chipper. “Would you be able to come to the temple earlier than usual this evening?”

Luke’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

Obi-Wan blinks. “Yes, should I not be?”

“Did Artoo put you up to this?”

“What does Artoo have to do with anything?”

Obi-Wan’s tone is too innocent. Luke shoots a glance over his shoulder just in time to catch the droid rolling back, away from the terrarium rails and out of sight, and sighs. R2 isn’t a droid to waste any sort of time, as he likes to remind Luke. Frequently. 

Luke looks back at the holo of his uncle and breathes hard through his nose. “What do you need?”

“There was an issue with a delivery,” Obi-Wan begins. Luke furrows his brows.

“So you need me to go get the right stuff?”

Obi-Wan strokes his beard. “Oh, no - the contents were correct. It’s a matter of what happened to them.”

Luke doesn’t like where this is going.

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“Well, neither did the younglings, it seemed,” Obi-Wan says wryly. “There was an order placed for Jogan fruit that arrived earlier today, however it seems that a few of the younglings knew about the delivery ahead of time and staged a coup to seize the transport crates.”  

Luke slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. He clears his throat quickly before answering. “So why don’t you go find them?”

“The younglings are being rather resistant to persuasion,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Some of them clearly had no idea what was being planned, but the ones that were involved aren’t revealing the fruits’ whereabouts.”

“Is the Council not able to get it out of them?” Luke asks, genuinely curious.

“The Council thought it would be best to call you,” Obi-Wan answers. “The children enjoy your company, and Plo and Mace have not had much luck.”

Luke walks over to prop an elbow on the counter, resting his chin on his fist. “Ah, I see - so as the youngest Jedi Master, you feel that I’m more relatable and they would be willing to share the location of their prize.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate. “That, and your impulsive and dramatic, childlike behavior may fool them into thinking you’re one of them.”

“Hey!”  

R2’s beeping laughter echoes down to Luke, blending smoothly with Obi-Wan’s chuckles. Luke scratches at the side of his neck and sighs. 

“I’m sorry, you seem to have forgotten that you called me for help, here,” Luke huffs once Obi-Wan has stopped laughing.

“I only jest, Luke,” Obi-Wan says warmly. Luke rolls his eyes but smiles back at him. “Are you available?”

Luke thinks of Din, what he could have meant by ‘later’, and decides that he will just have to find out when he finds out. Luke pushes back from the counter and sighs. “Yes, I’ll be there shortly. I’ll close up now and we’ll head over.”

“Thank you, Luke,” Obi-Wan says. “May the Force be with you.”

Luke quirks an eyebrow at him. “Sounds like I’m going to need it.”

Obi-Wan smiles innocently before disconnecting the call.

Luke sighs again and drops his face to his hands. He looks over to see that R2 has already taken the lift in the back down to the first floor and is wheeling towards him. “You really didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

R2 beeps that he’s been with Luke literally the whole day, and obviously no one would have gotten caught had he been calling the shots.

“Right, my mistake,” Luke drawls, rolling his eyes. “Mind getting the lights for me, Artoo? I’ll be right behind you.”

R2 beeps again and turns away, rolling down to the break room to turn off the lights. Luke watches him go for a moment before plucking a silver pen from the cup on the counter and going around to one of the drawers. He pulls out a black card and taps the end of the pen on it, suddenly nervous.

There was always a risk that someone could steal this and send Luke a variety of private messages he would not want, but then there was also the possibility that Din could come back and get it instead.

Luke decides he can always get a new comlink, worst case, and writes out his direct line on the back, Din’s name on the front, and jabs a hole through the thick cardstock in the corner. He quickly cuts a thin piece of ribbon and loops it through the hole he made before walking to pluck one of his favorite flowers - a black lorchad, one he has already shared with Din - and tying the ribbon with the card securely to the stem.

R2 wheels his way to the front and beeps at Luke to not forget his robes and lightsaber. Luke dashes to the break room and hastily throws his robes over his tunic, attaching the hilt to his belt as he goes. He scoops the lorchad up and follows R2 to the sliding glass doors. Once Luke is outside beside him, R2 locks up and moves away from the door to be out on the walkway proper.

Luke hesitates for a moment before settling the flower down against the column nearest to the door, partially blocked from any passerby but easily noticed if you stood right where the automatic door would usually open.

He hopes it’s obvious enough for Din, should he come back while Luke is out.

When Luke turns away and pulls up his hood, R2 trills smugly about how great of an idea it was he had.

“Oh, hush,” Luke hisses, feeling his face flush. “Let’s just see if he actually finds it, then we can talk about how great of an idea it was.” 

Later, after Luke has successfully found the mastermind behind the Jogan fruit raid and the missing fruit - he really isn’t sure why they needed to call him, the kids were practically catatonic from the sugar high and literally sleeping where they fell when he arrived, so it was a simple matter of following the trail of passed out younglings until he found the crates - he and R2 travel back to the shop.

On the way, Luke thinks about how cute little Grogu was, curled up around a half eaten Jogan fruit and using two others as a pillow when Luke found him at the end of the trail of sleeping younglings. One of the younglings who hadn’t yet fallen asleep claimed that Grogu was the mastermind, and Luke initially disagreed, until he found the little gremlin sleeping on the fruit like he was a hoarding Jawa. Although the little youngling had been disappointed to lose all his hard-won prizes and would likely be reprimanded for the ruckus, Luke had to admit that the whole thing was rather clever.

R2’s excited beeping pulls Luke’s attention, and he sees they’re outside of the shop. He steps to where R2 is rocking back and forth and smiles.

“Looks like you were right, Artoo - someone came and got that flower after all.” Luke smiles softly, feeling a warmth curl in his chest. “I just hope it was Din and not someone interested in letting me know my speeder’s warranty has expired,” Luke continues, laughing when R2 wails at him in indignation.

“Calm down, I’m sure it was Din - let’s just go up and check on those flame-roses, then head back for dinner.”

Later that night, after Luke has finished with the Alderaanian flame-lilies he’s raising in his rooms at the temple, his comlink beeps a transmission from the desk where Luke had set it to charge. His heart hammers in his chest while he rushes to take a seat, seeing the call is from an unknown number, and takes a deep breath before accepting it.

He feels a large smile spread across his lips at the familiar holo helmet that appears.

“Hi,” Luke breathes. “I was hoping it was you. I’m glad you found the flower.”

“I did,” Din answers, his voice just as pleasant through the modulator and over the holo as it is in person. Luke swallows and feels heat creep up his neck. “But a Kowakian monkey-lizard almost beat me to it.”

Luke winces. “I knew that wasn’t the best idea.”

Din’s shoulders rise in a soft shrug, the lines of the holo distorting with his movement. “It worked.”

Luke sighs slightly, smiling. “It did.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Luke continues. “I’m sorry I missed you. I was called back to the temple early.”

Din hums. “Is that where you are now?”

Luke nods. “I live here.” Din hums again, and Luke blinks at him. “Is that odd?”

Din’s soft chuckle manages to reach Luke through the holo and he is suddenly glad to be sitting. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

Luke feels like he’s missing something, but grins anyway. “I was called back early to break up a heist.”

Din’s helmet tilts in that endearing way of his. “Oh?”

“Well, it wasn’t all that exciting,” Luke downplays, eyes dropping to a stray thread on the hem of his tunic that he fiddles with. “Some younglings banded together to overtake a transport of Jogan fruit and managed to evade capture from two members of the Council. They called me in for backup.”

“Those are some resourceful younglings.”

Luke looks up from under his lashes and grins. “You wouldn’t believe half of the things these kids get up to, Din, I swear. A Jogan fruit heist is just another day of the week.”

Din’s startled laughter was louder, and Luke’s heart soars at the sound.

“It’s never boring here, that’s for sure,” Luke continues when Din’s laughter calms. “Although I prefer the shop.”

“Why is that?”

Luke pauses, wondering how Din will take his answer, knowing he’s a Jedi. Things have changed, but old stigmas still linger. “It can be lonely,” Luke answers softly. “I enjoy what I do as a Jedi, but the shop lets me help people in different, closer ways.” He swallows the discomfort at his admission and offers a grin. “Besides, I still get to help train the younglings when I’m not at the shop, and the Council always makes sure I don’t miss anything ‘fun’.”

Din’s helmet tilts again, and Luke wonders what color his eyes are. “Will you be there tomorrow?”

“At the shop? Yes.”

Din seems to tense; Luke’s heart starts to race again. “Can I see you?”

Luke sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and, suddenly not trusting his voice, nods.

“Good.” Din’s shoulders minutely relax, and Luke can’t fight the bright smile that spreads in the wake of Din’s nerves. 

It truly isn’t just him, after all.

A comfortable silence settles between them, and Luke can only stare back at Din’s holo while his pulse quickens. After a few more beats, the Mandalorian breaks the silence. 

“It’s late; I’ve taken enough of your time,” Din says softly, gently. “Keep this number, it’s my direct line.”

Luke wouldn’t mind if Din took more of his time, he could talk to Din for hours, but he isn’t wrong - it is late. Besides, Luke has his comlink number now, too. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Din nods. “Good night, Luke.”

“Good night, Din.”

When Din’s hologram fades away, Luke lets out a shuddering breath and rests his palm against his chest, willing his heart to calm down. They’ve spoken for longer - and in person, even! - in the shop numerous times, but this felt far more intimate. Everything feels more intimate after earlier that day. Luke lets his mind wander to the feeling of Din’s hand wrapped around his elbow, sure and grounding, and settles his burning face against the cool wood of his desk.

In the other room, R2 eagerly beeps at him, wanting to know who Luke had been speaking with.

Luke rolls his eyes and sighs - as if R2 didn’t know exactly who he was speaking to. Luke was never going to hear the end of this. “It was Din, Artoo. Your idea was brilliant, it worked like a charm.”

R2 thunders into Luke’s room at top speed, startling Luke almost out of his chair, just to announce that he’s going to remember this the next time Luke shoots down one of his ideas, then peels back out for the night.

Chapter Text

Luke is a jittery mess in the morning.

He tries to ignore R2’s constant taunting (“Yes Artoo; you were right , Artoo. Yes, I should have listened to you sooner, Artoo, I know .”), but doesn’t have much success. R2-D2 is relentless when he feels he’s right.

Still, Luke attempts to go through his morning routine without distraction; he banishes R2 to the sitting area and locks himself in the small terrarium room where the lilies are, settling down onto a cushion to meditate. After almost an hour of unsettled nerves and his mind drifting to Din’s request to see him later today, Luke gives it up and settles for a shower instead.

R2 chatters at him outside of the shower door (“Artoo, I know.”), while he’s dressing for the day (“Artoo! Get out of here!”), and while they’re navigating the halls to get to the large dining room for breakfast (“Artoo, please.” ).

Whoever said Luke inherited his father’s impatience, well, look at him now.

When Luke turns the corner into the dining hall and sees a familiar silhouette at a far table, he sighs in relief. 

“Artoo, look,” he urges, nudging the droid with his boot. R2 pauses for a moment, his dome spinning around. Luke nods towards who he found, and smiles. “It’s Ahsoka.”

The droid immediately squeals in delight and takes off towards her, almost at the same speed he tore out of Luke’s sleeping quarters the night before.

Luke silently offers an apology through the Force to his friend and aunt, ignoring her confused touch back, before heading to the droids serving food along the back of the room.

Once Luke has gathered some bread, cheese, and fruit (there is Jogan fruit on the bar that makes Luke snort a laugh while he takes a few slices), he makes his way across the large room to where his droid is currently harassing his oldest friend.

The beeps reach his ears long before he’s actually sat down, followed quickly by Ahsoka’s laugh, and Luke sighs - he’s not looking forward to finding out whatever R2 was oversharing and dragging his name in the mud about.

When Ahsoka’s bright eyes land on Luke as he sits across from her, he’s immediately wary.

“Hi there, Little Skyguy,” she greets, her tone already teasing. 

Luke sighs for what feels like the hundredth time that morning. “Good morning, Ahsoka.”

“You seem stressed this morning,” she continues, resting a hand on R2’s dome. “Artoo was telling me you’ve had an eventful time while I was off-world.”

“Has he,” Luke drawls, glancing at his droid. The astromech beeps in affirmation, rocking back and forth slightly in excitement. Luke carefully begins to cut the peel from his juicemelon before continuing with intense trepidation: “What all has he been telling you?”

Ahsoka casually picks up her cup of tea and shrugs. “Oh, you know - that you’ve gone and gotten yourself a boyfriend and didn’t tell your favorite aunt.”

Luke’s cybernetic hand jerks, shoving the knife straight through the melon and scraping it against the metal of the plate with a high screech. He immediately winces and drops the knife with a groan. “Artoo...”

R2 pops off at the vocoder that he’s right, so what’s the harm in telling her?

Ahsoka laughs when Luke shoots a look at his droid. “Relax, Little Skyguy, it’s okay. I’m not upset that you didn’t tell me yourself.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” Luke says, heat creeping up his neck and spreading rapidly with Ahsoka’s unimpressed stare. R2 doesn’t help when he adds his disbelieving chirps to the mix. Luke covers his face with both hands and groans. “There isn’t!”

Ahsoka continues to grin but shushes R2 when he starts up again. “There isn’t anything to tell yet, Luke, is what you’re saying?”

“Yes!” He snaps, then quickly realizes what he unknowingly admitted to. He rests his forearms on the table and buries his hot face on his arms, sliding his plate forward with another sickening screech.

“Why are you both doing this to me?” He mumbles into the dark cave of his arms. Ahsoka laughs at him again; he feels her smaller hand ruffling his hair like she did when he was younger.

“Because it’s so easy,” she answers with delight. “You can thank your dad for me knowing what a pining Skyguy looks like.”

Luke groans.

After a moment, Ahsoka hums and taps his shoulder. “I want to meet him.”

Luke shoots up. “Absolutely not.”

Ahsoka’s eyes twinkle at him. “Why not? Artoo says Obi-Wan already met him.”

Luke sighs in exasperation and runs a hand through his hair. “He didn’t, Uncle Ben was just there when he came to the shop the first time.”

R2 trills something to Ahsoka that makes Luke’s jaw drop. The utter betrayal. “You are unreal.”

“You made a fool out of yourself, huh?” She says with the air of someone who would be simply discussing a fact of life, pulling Luke’s plate forward to finish peeling the juicemelon Luke had abandoned. Luke splutters, the heat from before overtaking his face again.

“How do you even know , Artoo?! You weren’t there!”

R2 beeps back that he has his ways; Luke gapes at him. 

“Obi-Wan told him,” Ahsoka supplies.

Luke presses his lips together and narrows his eyes. “Kenobi.”

“Anyway,” Ahsoka redirects, sliding Luke’s plate back to him with the melon freshly peeled and sliced into small chunks. She pops one into her mouth as payment and chews as she speaks. “If Obi-Wan met him then it’s only fair that I get to, too.”

“I’m missing the part where this is fair for me,” Luke grumbles, picking up his fork to eat a piece of melon. He’s going to remember this the next time Obi-Wan needs his help corralling younglings.

“Well,” Ahsoka offers, resting her elbows on the table and leaning her chin on her fists. The jewel between the akul-teeth on her headdress gleams in the light of the dining room; the refraction is as mischievous as the glint in her eyes. “Would you rather it be me or Anakin?”

Luke readily offers to have Ahsoka tag along to the shop, he could use her help with a few things, there’s new flowers to show her, and the windows could use some extra attention - 

“I never did ask you how your trip was,” Luke says on their way to the shop, his hands tucked into his sleeves. Ahsoka walks beside him, R2 trailing behind them.

“Nothing really worth reporting,” she says, nudging Luke’s shoulder with her own. Luke is slightly taller than her, if the tips of her montrails aren’t counted; Luke stopped counting them when he finally outgrew her, but she still likes to bring it to his attention every now and then. “It was nice to have a mission with Barriss, she always offers unique perspectives.”

Luke smiles, glad that Ahsoka’s friendship with the Mirialan Jedi is still strong. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“A few artifacts that Barriss was thrilled with,” Ahsoka confirms. “It was nice to see her happy.”

Luke hums in agreement and they fall into a companionable silence, the sounds of Galactic City swirling around them. Luke sees a blue and yellow Kowakian monkey-lizard skitter by them and wonders if that’s the same one that tried to snag Din’s flower the day before. 

As they get closer to Naberrie Blooms, Ahsoka breaks the silence. “So, tell me about him.”

Luke huffs and pulls his robes tighter around himself. He shouldn’t be so defensive, but he’s still a little sore from R2’s tattling on him. “What’s there to tell? We aren’t dating.”

“Yet,” Ahsoka emphasizes, reminding Luke of his slip-up earlier at breakfast. R2 beeps tauntingly behind them.

Luke ignores him; he runs a hand through his hair to expel some of the jitters that started in his hands again at the mention of Din. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Well, let’s start with something easy,” Ahsoka prompts, her arms swinging out as they walk. “What does he look like?”

Easy, yeah, alright. “He’s very - shiny.”

“Shiny?” 

“He’s a Mandalorian.”

Ahsoka shoots a look over her shoulder at R2. “A Mandalorian?”

Luke nods and grins at her. “Artoo left that bit out, huh?”

She grins back. “You could say that.”

Luke rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair again, unsure about continuing. “He has a nice voice.”

Ahsoka makes an interested sound; Luke continues: “It’s - deep, raspy. I feel like I could listen to him read the worst holonet tabloids imaginable and love every second.”

Ahsoka laughs. “Sounds like some voice.”

Luke ducks his chin against his growing smile and flush. “Yeah.”

Ahsoka loops her arm through his and pulls him closer. “What else?”

Luke tightens his elbow and drops his gloved hand to her arm. He misses her, when she’s off-world. “I don’t let him pay for the flowers he comes in for. After the second time, he started trading me things instead - pastries, chocolate, blue milk custard. He - he noticed the ones I like the best, and that’s all he brings now.”

Ahsoka sighs and chuckles, her tone disbelieving. “You said you aren’t dating, right? You know that’s like, serious dating behavior.”

Luke laughs and goes to run his hand through his hair again; Ahsoka immediately reaches over and slaps his hand down with the arm not looped through his. “Stop that, you’re going to mess your hair up more than usual.”

“I’m nervous!” He yelps, laughing shakily. “I haven’t, haven’t talked about him aloud like this before.”

She doesn’t say anything but Luke can feel her rolling her eyes. “What is it, Ahsoka?”

“Just me over here, having flashbacks,” she drawls. Luke rolls his eyes in turn. “Go on.”

Luke opens his mouth to continue, then sighs. “I guess that’s not true, I did seek guidance from Uncle Ben.”

Ahsoka stops up short and pulls Luke to a stop beside her. When he looks at her, her eyes are wide with disbelief. “You talked to Obi-Wan? If I knew you needed help so bad I would have been back sooner. Why not Leia?”

Luke bites his lip - he hasn’t spoken to his sister at all about Din, he hasn’t seen her in weeks. “She’s busy.”

“And? You know she’s never too busy for you, Luke, you’re her brother.”

Luke knew that. “I wanted to meditate on it first - ”

Ahsoka scoffs. “Oh are you serious? Was that Master Kenobi’s suggestion? ”

Luke feels lost. R2 beeps that they’ve stopped in the middle of the walkway and it may make more sense to pull off for this conversation. Luke guides them to the edge of the path. Ahsoka pulls her arm free and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Ahsoka,” Luke pleads, feeling like a glitching holo on loop - he’s been saying that a lot to her this morning. He starts to run a hand through his hair again; she snatches his wrist away before he can even get close and holds it. “The Force screams at me when he’s near, it made sense to meditate.”

“If you haven’t spoken to Leia, and I had to hear about it from Artoo, and Obi-Wan has been your guidance - which, by the way, he’s hardly an example of someone to talk to about this sort of thing, he still hasn’t been honest with Satine and it’s been literally decades - then that means you’ve not said anything to your Mandalorian, have you?” She demands, voice low.

Luke swallows. “In Uncle Ben’s defense, he did tell me to talk to him about it - ”

“Which you ignored and still haven’t done,” Ahsoka finishes for him. When Luke shifts his weight from foot to foot and looks anywhere but at her, the white marks above Ahsoka’s eyes climb up her forehead. “I’m right.”

Luke rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and shrugs. It’s a remarkably clear day today.

Ahsoka groans and rubs both of her hands over her face. “This right here is why you couldn’t be my Padawan, Luke Skywalker. You’re so much like your dad it had to be Obi-Wan. I don’t know how Padmé did it twice.”

“Hey,” Luke protests weakly, but really - he can’t offer much of a defense. 

R2 takes a moment to kindly beep at them that they’re running late to open the shop. Luke breathes a sigh of relief for the distraction and pulls Ahsoka back onto the busy walkway.

“Okay, so - whatever, we’ll fix this,” she says with determination, looping her arm through his again and wagging a finger towards his face. “You’re incredibly stubborn, Little Skyguy.” 

Luke smiles at her and pats her arm affectionately. “As you and Uncle Ben like to remind me - daily. ”

They don’t get another chance to talk about Din again after that. They were already close to the shop when they stopped and only had to turn another corner before they arrived. Outside, there are a few guests milling, waiting on Luke to open to pick up their orders. He smiles brightly at them and apologizes for the delay. R2 opens the door and Luke guides them all in, leaving the group with Ahsoka while he dips into cold storage to collect the orders needed for pickup.

Once the immediate rush is over, Luke takes his and Ahsoka’s robes to the break room and comes back out to find her sitting on his counter, her hands folded between her knees and swinging her legs, staring at him intently. R2 is nowhere to be seen, and Luke can faintly hear some clanging in the terrarium above them.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks, approaching her warily. Now that there are no guests, he’s nervous again. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous, Luke, come here.” He steps closer to her and she quickly fixes his hair from where he had mussed it earlier, then her hands fall to the clasp that holds his shirt closed and swiftly undoes it. Luke takes a startled step back, his face flushing. “Kriffing hells, Ahsoka, what are you doing?”

She rolls her eyes at him, again , and uses the Force to bring him back to her. “Calm down, Little Skyguy.” She straightens the exposed white flap into a triangle over his chest and pats it once for good measure. “You’re looking so closed up, between that high collar and those long sleeves, I figured one clasp less isn’t going to kill you.”

Luke huffs and looks down at his long sleeved tunic. He decided that morning to not wear any of his usual Jedi attire - which Din had seen in several variations over the course of his visits - and settled on something a little more formfitting, a gift from Leia that he didn’t have many opportunities to wear.  “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No,” she comments. “You look handsome, the dark color brings out your eyes. It’s just, you want to look approachable, right?”

“I’m always approachable,” he grouses, making Ahsoka grin.

“Irresistible, then,” she amends and winks at him, fussing with his collar while Luke attempts to will away the blood rushing to his face. “Did you polish your boots? They’re shinier than the last time I saw you.”

Luke shakes his head at her - who does she think he is? “I polish them daily, Ahsoka.”

His aunt hums. “Guess I don’t look down at your feet too much when we’re not sparring,” she teases before pushing back on his shoulders, waving him away. “Go, stand in the center and twirl.”

Luke huffs a laugh but does as he’s asked, taking a few steps back and holding his arms out at his sides while he spins in place. “Well? Do I pass?”

Ahsoka taps her chin. “Do those sleeves go up?”

“Huh?”

“Like, can you roll them up?”

“Oh, yeah,” Luke says, unclipping the right cuff once he’s following her train of thought.

She holds her hands out for him to come back, so he offers her his left arm. “I know that hand is as close to the real thing as you can get,” she says, nodding to his right hand. “But some things are easier with two.”

He fondly watches her roll up his left sleeve to just under his elbow, then finishes what he started on his right to match. Ahsoka pats his wrist when she’s done then waves him back again. He goes without complaint, spins in place, and flushes when Ahsoka claps. 

“Okay, you’re ready,” she says, smiling warmly at him. Luke smiles back, so glad to have her in his life and family. 

He pauses, a thought creeping into his mind that he isn’t sure he should ask about. “Why are you messing with my clothes?”

Ahsoka blinks at him. “For your date,” she answers slowly. “Keep up, Little Skyguy.” 

Luke immediately flushes but manages to fight down the sudden shaking in his hands. “I didn’t tell you he was coming by today; I didn’t tell anyone.”

Ahsoka smirks. “You know Artoo is a little gossip, right?”

Luke curses under his breath and shoots a look to the loft; R2 must have been listening in on Luke’s entire conversation with Din last night. Luke really shouldn’t be surprised.

Again, he realizes belatedly what he unintentionally admitted to. He clears his throat to try to save face. “It’s not a date, Ahsoka.”

She shrugs her shoulders at him and leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Well if you ask me, asking to see you sounds like a date.”

Luke shoots another glare at the loft. R2 is, of course, still nowhere to be seen, but the clanging gets louder like he’s trying to feign work while continuing his eavesdropping. “You have to be kidding me. Artoo literally listened to my whole damn call.”

Ahsoka jumps down from the counter and stands in front of Luke, offering him a consoling pat on the cheek for his troubles. “Maybe shut him down before you take a call next time?”

Luke sighs and drops his head forward, resting his forehead on his aunt’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.”

Ahsoka pats his cheek again and smiles, dropping her other hand down to squeeze his gloved fingers. “It’ll be fine, I’m here to help now.”

Luke sags in defeat. “I feel like I need all the help I can get at this point.”

They stand there for a moment, Luke enjoying Ahsoka’s company and suddenly missing his sister. He wonders what she has been up to, if he should call her later.

“You said something about the Force screaming at you?” Ahsoka prompts gently.

Luke sighs and straightens up. “Yes, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Describe it to me.”

Luke makes an aborted move towards his hair again, but drops a palm to his neck instead when Ahsoka narrows her eyes at him. “Well, it’s like - it’s like, how do I say this.” Luke presses his lips together and thinks, trying to clear his mind to focus on how Din makes him feel any time he’s near. “It’s so loud and sure. I feel weightless, relaxed and anxious, content and wanting, all at the same time; the Force pulls me towards him in a way that feels like...”

Luke opens his eyes and looks at his oldest friend and aunt. “I feel like I’m coming home. Like anywhere he would be, is where I need to be.”

Ahsoka bites her bottom lip against a truly enormous smile, her eyes more than a little damp. “Luke; that sounds wonderful.”

He ducks his head again, feeling a fresh flush creep up his neck to his ears. “It was absolutely terrible until yesterday.”

Ahsoka squeezes his cybernetic hand so hard he winces; he’d forgotten she was still holding onto him. “Uh, ow?”

“What do you mean ‘terrible’?” She asks sharply.

“Initially, I thought he was coming here to get flowers for a partner,” Luke confesses. Ahsoka drops her head back and groans. Even though Luke realizes that, yes, this was almost a misery of his own construct, he’s quick to defend himself. “What? He’s been here consistently every three days, it was a reasonable assumption!”

“I take back what I said earlier,” she says, bringing their connected hands up and shaking his own fist in his face. “Maybe you should have listened to Old Man Kenobi. He’s good at giving advice, but not really with taking his own.”

Luke laughs outright at that, thinking about his uncle ratting him out to R2 and gleefully knowing the perfect way to return the favor. “That’s so true. I remember once on Tatooine he drilled into my head about how important my lightsaber was and to not ever lose it, only to have to come back to Coruscant for a spare when Jawas stole his.”

Luke has never seen her laugh so hard in his life. 

“Oh yes , does Anakin know?” Ahsoka asks, cheering when he nods.

“He reminds Uncle Ben every time he visits,” he adds, laughing when Ahsoka shoves at his shoulder. 

“That is just spectacular,” she says, wiping away a tear from her eye with a wide grin. “I can’t wait to get in on that conversation next time. Coming here with you today was a great idea, I haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

Luke’s smile softens. “You should come around more, then.”

“You couldn’t keep me away even if you tried, Little Skyguy.” Ahsoka sticks her tongue out at him, scrunching her face up in a playful expression that reminds Luke of the holos he’s seen of her when she was his age.

Luke grins, opening his mouth to comment on her always calling him dramatic, when the breath is suddenly stolen from him. A shiver runs up his spine, hot and quick, that has him turning towards the door of the shop immediately. He feels his heart beat faster, that same fluttering joy and simmering in his blood that always shoves to the front of Luke’s mind when Din is near - always right at the front of his mind without fail, even when he tries to ignore it. He unconsciously squeezes Ahsoka’s hand tighter and holds his breath.

Ahsoka must feel the shift in the Force as well, because she doesn’t question the abrupt end to their conversation, only squeezing back on his hand and following his line of sight.

Hardly a few seconds later, the bell above the sliding glass door tinkles, the Force soars in Luke’s chest, and shining beskar comes into view as Din moves around the counter - 

- only to stop up short on the step down into the center of the shop. Luke has seen Din stand still before, but not nearly as still as he is now, as if frozen. The Force quiets considerably, helping Luke to find his voice again.

“Din,” Luke breathes, pausing to lick his suddenly dry lips. “Hi.”

Luke has come to understand that Din is a man of few words, as Luke is usually the one who chatters between the two of them, his mouth running away with him when he’s nervous. Din’s prolonged silence today is something different.

Then, a few things happen at once: Luke feels something else simmering in the Force, and it feels remarkably close to his own dejected feelings from a few days ago; Ahsoka releases his hand carefully and in plain view, telegraphing her movements; Din’s helmet tilts, clearly tracking the fall of her hand; and Luke finally remembers he needs air to live and takes a sharp breath.

His gasp seems to break whatever transfixed Din mid-step, that dark visor snapping up to him. “Am I interrupting?” He asks, his speech strangely flat.

Luke shakes his head, turning more towards Din and fighting the urge to step closer. Something is keeping Din away, so Luke will give him the option to come when he’s ready. “Not at all. I’m glad you’re here.”

Din’s shoulders relax, and he finally takes the step down into the center of the shop. He doesn’t get any closer to Luke and Ahsoka, and Luke tries not to feel too concerned. That disappointment floating around in the Force is definitely a distraction, dividing his attention.

Luke suddenly winces as Ahsoka elbows him savagely in his ribs to pull his head out of the clouds. “Ow! Kriff, uh, how rude of me,” he stammers. “I should introduce you - ”

“We’ve met,” Din says, tone still flat. Luke frowns at him before looking to Ahsoka for confirmation. She’s smirking at the Mandalorian, one hand on her hip.

“Hey Mando!” She says, tone cheerful and familiar. Luke blinks slowly at his aunt, shoving a massive wave of are you serious right now? through the Force at her that she ignores without missing a beat. “How’s the youngling?”

Luke snaps his attention back to Din who, to Luke’s surprise, relaxes further. “The kid’s fine.”

Ahsoka’s smile grows; Luke looks back at her. “I’m glad to hear. I haven’t had a chance to check in on him. I just got back in the city.”

Luke hears Din’s low hum through his helmet and blinks at him, now. “Kid?”

“My son,” Din answers easily, as if Luke’s world hasn’t shifted on its axis with that news. Such a sweet, quiet man is a father - Luke is suddenly picturing Din hoisting up a child in Mandalorian armor to cradle to his chest - oh Force, he may need to lean on something. 

He must not be succeeding in keeping his composure because Ahsoka is slapping the back of her hand against his chest, knocking the breath out of him for a different reason and making him splutter.

“So where did you find this hole in the wall?” She continues when Luke obviously isn’t going to hold up his side of the conversation.

Din turns his visor towards Luke again and he feels his face immediately flush. It’s a wonder he hasn’t passed out yet, honestly. “Recommendation.”

Ahsoka hums and nods. “This place does have great reviews and clientele. My nephew here does a good job running it.” She slaps the back of her hand against Luke’s chest again with extra emphasis and suddenly that choking disappointment in the Force is gone and replaced with something new: relief.

Luke takes a deep breath - he feels like an idiot, he should have seen it sooner. Din had walked in on something that could have easily been misunderstood as more than Luke simply laughing with his aunt.

It’s a good thing Ahsoka picked up on it faster than he did.

“He does,” Din says, his words warming Luke.

Luke isn’t sure what to say, so he smiles and runs a shaking hand through his hair and ignores Ahsoka’s quiet sigh beside him.

“Luke, weren’t you telling me you had something you wanted to show Mando?” Ahsoka continues, patting his shoulder. He looks at her and her eyes cut to the loft behind them. “I can watch the shop if you send Artoo down.”

Luke swallows and nods, smiling gratefully at her. She winks back and steps up towards the counter, jumping up on the stool Luke keeps behind there. Luke turns back to Din, who has stepped closer to him after Ahsoka moved away. “Do you have time?”

“Yes,” Din answers, voice smooth and low, and Luke smiles at him. 

“We’ll take the lift.” He nods at Ahsoka then leads Din around a few displays before they’re standing close to the wall of water tanks. He presses a button on the connecting wall and a door slides open to reveal a hidden lift. Luke waves Din in.

“We’re just going up one floor,” he says when Din hesitates. After a moment, he nods, then Luke follows him in. The lights turn on around them when Luke presses to go to the next floor. He tries not to focus on how close Din is next to him in the two second travel time.

R2 greets Luke once the door is open. He steps out and Din isn’t far behind him. “Hey Artoo, can you stay with Ahsoka at the counter? I’ll just be up here for a bit.”

R2 beeps that it would absolutely be his pleasure to help Luke have some alone time on his date, and Ahsoka’s laugh carries surprisingly well to the shop’s second floor.

Luke sighs and ignores them both, shaking his head once R2 is in the lift and out of sight. Although, he is curious. “Do you understand binary, Din?”

Din shakes his head. “No, never had a need to.”

“Lucky you,” Luke drawls. Well, at least he doesn’t have to worry about R2 running his little vocoder off at the man and further ruining whatever may be left of Luke’s reputation with him. After taking a fortifying breath, Luke reaches out to wrap a hand around Din’s vambrace, tugging him lightly towards the back of the loft, near the glass walls. “Here, follow me.”

Din simply nods and does; the space is open enough that Luke doesn’t have to keep a hand on him to guide him, but he doesn’t pull away as Luke gently leads him. 

They come to a stop at the heat box and Luke releases his grip. “I thought you might like to finally see the roses I’ve been blathering to you about.” The flame-roses are almost at full bloom, bright red bulbs tipped in yellow coil tightly together in the box.

Din’s chuckle is soft. “I wouldn’t call it blathering.”

Luke scoffs and rolls his eyes, grinning at the other man. “What would you call it, then?”

“Listening to you talk about something you enjoy,” he says easily, his visor turned towards Luke instead of the roses. Luke stares back at him.

“That doesn’t bother you?” He wonders, then regrets it - he doesn’t know that he really wants to know the answer. Din’s helmet tilts in that way of his that always has Luke captivated, wanting to know what he’s thinking.

“You talking?” Din asks.

Swallowing, breath suddenly shallow, Luke nods.

Din sighs, the sound rippling over his modulator. “Never.” 

A relieved smile breaks out on Luke’s face, a laugh bubbling to join in, and his pulse races to match the joy in the Force. Luke brings up his hand to hide his giddy smile, suddenly embarrassed but not truly caring, only to feel Din’s palm wrapping around his wrist and tugging his hand away gently.

Luke jolts - the feeling of Din’s gloves against the skin of his forearm is acute and indulgent in a way that has him knowing he’s going to have to thank Ahsoka again for rolling up his sleeves, regardless of how telling that will be. Din’s hand is warm and gentle, applying only the slightest pressure to let Luke know he could pull away if he wanted. Luke feels like Din could keep just this gentle connection between them forever and he may still not have enough of it.

“Don’t feel like you need to hide from me,” Din says, voice low and as soft as his touch, but it lights such a fierce longing in Luke that he wants to wrap his arms around Din and hold him as close as he can, maybe entice Din to hold him, too.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathes; a content joy floats into the Force between them, and Luke is sure that Din is smiling at him.

The bell over the shop tinkles, startling Luke back to the present. He looks over the rails a few feet away and hears Ahsoka and R2 greet the guest. He’s reminded that they’re not alone, as much as Luke wants them to be, and he very much would like to talk to Din uninterrupted. He glances back down at the roses he used as a weak excuse to get Din up here and licks his lips, thinking. 

“Come on,” he says quietly, pitching his voice lower to not carry over the loft rails. He doesn’t want to lose the connection of Din’s hand on his arm, so he drops his gloved hand on top of Din’s and backs away from the heat box, closer towards the lift door. “Come with me to the roof.”

Din must be thinking along the same lines as Luke and goes easily, slipping back into the lift beside him and definitely standing closer than before. Luke closes his eyes and wills his pulse to calm its rabbiting - he still hasn’t even spoken to Din about all this yet - his feelings, his thoughts. He’s tired of all the assumptions and doesn’t think his heart can take much more.

The roof of the shop and second floor were both converted into a terrarium, but unlike the second floor’s more comfortable climate, the roof is made entirely of tinted glass and houses the flowers and plants that need more humidity to thrive. It isn’t the most comfortable to loiter around in, but there is plenty of space and they won’t have to worry about guests or eavesdropping astromechs.

Luke glances out at the Galactic City skyline when they step out of the lift, noticing that it is still quite early in the day. “I didn’t realize it’s not even midday.”

Din’s hand is back on his wrist and tugging slightly, urging Luke to turn around to face him. “I wanted to see you.”

Luke smiles at him, hoping he doesn’t look too smitten. “Well, I’m here, and you’re here.”

Din nods, his hand sliding up Luke’s forearm to his elbow and leaving fire in its wake. “It looks like it.”

Luke’s smile widens at the teasing lilt in Din’s tone and daringly steps closer. “So what did you want to see me for?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Din murmurs, his voice deep and rough. Luke bites his bottom lip and feels Din press his thumb in the soft dip of Luke’s elbow, under the cuff of his sleeve. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and I have to know - do you. Have you - ”

“Yes,” Luke answers, feeling his whole body shudder when Din’s grip on his arm tightens in response. “Yes, I think about you, too. An embarrassing amount of time.”

Din’s laugh is soft and fluttering and Luke’s fingers twitch to reach out to him. “It can’t be any worse than me.”

Luke chuckles with him, his smile so wide it hurts. “Let’s not make any bets on it.”

“Afraid to lose to a Mandalorian, Jedi?” Din teases, pulling Luke closer, closer. Luke goes with no resistance, the toes of his boots nudging against Din’s and his hands settling on Din’s smooth beskar chest plate.

“It wouldn’t be very fair,” Luke says, voice lowering, looking up into Din’s visor. “I think you’ve already won something from me.”

Din lets out a shaky exhale that Luke absolutely hears and wraps his other arm around Luke’s waist to close the last of the space between them. Luke sighs when Din’s helmet presses against his forehead, his eyes sliding close and his heart pounding so fiercely that he can feel it against the back of his hand trapped between them.

Din seems to pat at Luke’s back for a moment, which is a little odd but Luke doesn’t think too much about it, ignoring a soft thump behind him and enjoying the feeling of cool beskar warming to his skin. It may be quickly becoming one of his favorite sensations in all of the galaxy. Then Din’s arm around his waist tightens, and he starts to lean away; Luke makes a noise of protest and tries to chase the other man, leaning into him, but stops short when he feels a hand on his face.

His eyes fly open - Din’s hand is bare, his palm warm where he’s cupping Luke’s cheek, and Luke immediately feels his face flush at the feeling of having Din’s bare skin on him, his thumb soft and rubbing lightly under Luke’s eye. When he blinks, he sees and feels the drag of his eyelashes over tan skin.

It immediately steals his breath; Din is trusting him with so much, his name, his touch - Luke can only sink further into Din’s embrace, strong and sure, letting out a shuddering sigh. The Force trembles with him, content, and Luke feels something slide into place inside of him.

This is where he’s meant to be.

“You’re beautiful, Luke,” Din murmurs, breaking the weighted silence between them. Luke flushes and starts to duck away - to where he isn’t sure, but that compliment from Din combined with their closeness is almost too much for him to handle. 

A soft tsk comes from Din, and he’s nudging Luke’s chin up again with a gentle pressure Luke can’t dream of resisting. Once Luke is looking at his visor again and not somewhere around their chests, Din says, “I won’t give you any reason to hide from me.”

Luke squeezes his eyes shut against the intense adoration he feels and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth; Din frees it with a harsh exhale and a sure swipe of his thumb, and Luke’s mouth falls open on a low groan. 

He’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his entire life.

Din’s hand trails to the base of his skull, the movement almost frantic, and pulls Luke forward to rest their foreheads together again, grip tight. Luke leans into the pressure, sliding his hands up Din’s chest plate to rest on his shoulders, the way he had in front of the blood orchids the day before. Din’s fingers play with the hair at the nape of Luke’s neck, and he suddenly forgets how to breathe.

“Please tell me you’re not in a relationship with anyone,” Luke gasps, desperate to know. He loops his arms around Din’s neck, trying to pull him closer. He manages to press their chests flush - Luke wonders if Din can feel his heart hammering against his chest plate now, with not even air between them - and Din compensates for the extra closeness of their bodies by holding Luke tighter to him by his waist, Luke’s back arching into the embrace.

Din shakes his head, the motion smooth against his hot skin, and Luke lets out a breathless laugh that’s so full of relief that it verges on a hysterical sob even to his own ears.

“Are you?” Din asks, and Luke shakes his head quickly. Din’s arm tightens possessively around his waist, like that was all the permission he needed, and his bare hand slides up further into Luke’s hair; Luke isn’t sure he could stand on his own, he’s trembling so bad.

“Good.” 

Luke swallows, out of breath, and says: “Does that mean you want to - ”

“Yes.” Luke melts against Din right there, finally leaning the rest of his weight onto him and moving to tuck his face against Din’s neck. The edge of his helmet digs against Luke’s cheek, but it isn’t uncomfortable.

He manages to find his voice and breathes, “I’d like that.”

Din runs his fingers through Luke’s hair soothingly, humming through his modulator. Luke is starting to feel the effects of being on the humid roof for as long as they have and imagines that Din must be feeling it too, but he doesn’t make any move to pull away. He could stay there as long as Din wanted, for as long as Din wanted.

Luke lets out a content sigh, feeling Din’s own happiness threading with his in the Force. He pulls back long enough to lean up onto his toes and press a kiss to Din’s helmet, right beneath his visor where Luke expects his cheek to be. He hears Din’s sharp inhale when he leans back, settling back on his heels, and smiles up at him. Luke wonders if anyone else has ever done that to Din before.

He hopes he’s the first.

Just when Luke begins to feel almost overheated in the charged air between them, the overhead sprinklers turn on and blast them both with what has to be the coldest water on Coruscant. 

With the way Luke’s day started, he supposes this is on brand.

Chapter Text

Luke is laughing too hard to stand.

He’s soaked in a matter of seconds - he and Din had been standing directly under one of the sprinklers - but he doesn’t care. He cannot stop laughing. It takes Din a moment to react, and the only thing he does is pull Luke back to his chest and hold his cape over both of their heads to ward off the water. It’s sweet of him, Luke thinks, but a little too late.

He tucks his forehead against the small space between Din’s shoulder and helmet, seeking the warmth of his skin through his cowl and collar, and grins. Din tilts his chin to make space for him. “Well, this tracks. I’m so sorry, Din -” he can’t stop giggling enough to talk, stars, what a mess, “- this has been exactly how my day has gone.”

Din hums, and Luke feels the vibration of his voice on his skin and that is enough to stifle his giggles for a moment. He tightens his arms around Din’s waist. “I don’t mind.”

Luke’s grin widens, his face flushing. He pulls back to look up at Din; water taps loudly on his cape but doesn’t rain onto Luke anymore. “You don’t mind getting rained on?”

Din tilts to look at Luke and raps his knuckles against his helmet, cape still tight in his fist. “Rust proof.”

Luke laughs again, startled and delighted, his face falling against Din’s pauldron; his heart flutters when he hears Din’s soft laughter join him. He hopes to hear more of it.

He shakes his head and starts walking Din back towards the lift. “Come on, let’s get out of this. I have some towels in the break room.” Din moves back with little effort, trusting Luke to guide him. Once they’re out of the immediate spray of water, Luke grabs Din’s cape and tries to wring out some of the water.

Satisfied with the small puddle that’s gathered between their boots, Luke drops Din’s cape and rolls his eyes when the fabric just clings to Din’s armor with a wet slap. “Do you want to leave that out to dry?”

Din shakes his head. “It’s fine, I don’t feel it.”

Luke nods; that makes sense. His cape isn’t stuck to his skin like Luke’s clothing is - it was tight to begin with, but now he absolutely isn’t looking forward to getting out of it. He uselessly tries to dry his hands off on the thighs of his pants but decides just to use the excess water to push his hair back from his face. He quickly runs both hands through his hair, trying to get it to stay flat; once it starts to dry, it’s going to be an absolute mess. 

He smiles at Din, holding a hand out. “Back to the first floor, then.”

Din bypasses his outstretched hand and cups Luke’s face in both of his palms, hands still warm and bare and damp, and rests their foreheads together again. Luke’s eyes flutter shut, and he wraps both of his hands around Din’s vambraces.

The water continues behind Luke, pattering onto glass and petals, and drips down the dip in his chin. The cacophony of Galactic City isn’t drowned out by the sound, just muted, but Luke can only hear the soft breaths of the man before him, can only feel his hands on his face and his own heart thudding against his ribs. The Force is calm, content, and Luke feels weightless.

“I like this,” Luke whispers. His warm breath fogs on Din’s helmet, cold from the water. “Being close to you like this.”

Din’s hands slide around to the back of Luke’s head and neck, keeping him close. “So do I.”

Luke smiles, biting his lower lip, and squeezes where his hands had slid down Din’s vambraces almost to his elbows. “We’ll have to do this more often, then.” 

“That can be arranged,” Din agrees, and Luke feels - so happy. He pulls back and swiftly presses his lips to the forehead of Din’s helmet when the man stumbles forward into him with the motion, off balance. His hands move to Luke’s shoulders and slide down his back, and if Luke doesn’t lead them downstairs now they may just stay up on the roof all day.

“Okay, I need a towel,” he says, and Din chuckles, the sound breathless through his modulator. He presses Luke tight to him and starts moving backwards towards the lift again. Luke grins and reaches around him for the panel and opens the door, not looking away from Din’s visor. “Watch your step, Din.”

“It would be a shame if I fell,” Din rumbles, and Luke laughs. “I might take you with me.”

“What a shame that would be,” Luke agrees. Din presses their foreheads together again before pulling away entirely. Luke immediately misses his embrace but turns to the lift controls, choosing the first floor. The thing is - Luke can reach out to touch Din whenever he wants to now. So he does, taking Din’s hand in his when the lift starts, and feels his heart race at the slight squeeze Din gives in return.

They’re on the first floor a few seconds later and stepping out of the lift. Luke doesn’t see R2 or Ahsoka, and pushes a wave to Ahsoka that they’re back downstairs and he’ll be over to relieve her soon. She sends back the equivalent of no rush and Luke is thankful. 

Luke is suddenly hit with a shiver when the cold air of the shop finally meets his still dripping shirt as they get closer to the break room. Hopefully his undershirt was somewhat spared. He ushers Din into the room and closes the door behind them with a wave of his hand. Din glances back for a moment, then looks towards Luke. “The Force?”

Luke grins sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s second nature for me at this point.”

“That’s fine,” Din says. “Just still getting used to it.”

Luke nods. “I understand. It was overwhelming for me at first, but now I can’t imagine my life without it.” He drops Din’s hand after another brief squeeze and crosses over to the small counter along the back wall of the room, stooping to search for the towels he knows he has there. Luke finds two and tosses one to Din, turning around to lean against the counter while he works the towel over his hair.

Din doesn’t do much more than swipe the extra moisture from his armor, the water having trailed off the metal on the roof, and bunches his cape up to twist out what little water Luke couldn’t get out earlier. Luke watches him, the tan of Din’s skin and the clear strength in his grip standing out against white cloth, and swallows.

Hoping Din won’t mind his need to not be clammy anymore, Luke rests the towel around his neck while he works on the remaining clasps of his shirt along the edge of his chest. He frees them quickly and untucks his shirt from his belt, peeling the tight fabric down his shoulders and arms with more than a little effort, almost taking his glove off with it. His shirt feels like a second skin but he’s soon free, confirming with a pat down his chest that his undershirt is still somewhat dry - in the loosest definition of the word. Once he’s back in his robes, he’ll survive. Luke moves to rest his shirt over the back of a chair to dry, smiling at Din when he sees the other man’s attention has turned back to him.

“Do you need another towel for your cape?” Luke offers, leaning back against the counter and rubbing the towel over his bare arms. His undershirt is more of a sleeveless tank, similar to what he wears when training, and leaves him in near shivers between the cool air and his wet pants; he rubs the towel against his bicep in an attempt to warm himself faster.

Din is quiet and still, and Luke slows his movements, pausing to push his towel-dried hair back from his face after it falls forward again. “Are you alright -”

“Luke,” Din says, and his voice is strangely sharp. Luke blinks, slightly startled.

“Yes?”

“Does that door lock?”

Luke feels a flush start to creep up his neck. “It does.”

“Lock it.”

Luke swallows and glances at the panel in the wall by the door. He uses the Force to turn the light from green to red, and a small beep echoes in the silence around them.

The air is heavy and thick with intent, not dissimilar to the charged air between them on the roof. Luke feels his breathing shorten, his pulse quickening.

Then, Din is crossing the little space between them, crowding Luke closer to the counter. He takes the towel from Luke’s slackened grip and tosses it over his shoulder to join his own on the table. Luke’s mouth drops open in a gasp when Din presses completely against him, the edge of the counter digging into the small of Luke’s back. Din’s hand is on his chin again, warm thumb pressing against his bottom lip, and Luke fights not to swipe his tongue out to taste.

“Can you close your eyes and keep them closed for me, Luke?” Din asks, voice low, and Luke’s eyes are closed before Din can finish his sentence. He’s rewarded with a pleased hum and a slow stroke along his bottom lip; this time, Luke does swipe his tongue along Din’s skin and hears a harsh inhale from him.

“Tease,” he admonishes, and Luke grins in response. Din’s hands leave him for a moment, his weight shifting back, and then Luke hears soft clicks and holds his breath. A dull cling rings out, and Luke knows it’s the sound of Din’s helmet settling against the metal of the counter beside him.

He keeps his eyes closed, just as Din asked, and feels both of Din’s hands on his face again.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, voice soft and still low without the modulator. It sends a thrill through Luke and all can do is nod before he’s being pulled into a soft kiss. Luke gasps, his hands flying up to scramble at any of Din’s armor he can reach, and presses as close to him as he can. Din’s lips are soft, searching, and Luke answers in kind, sighing when he feels Din smile against him.

The Force settles again, as it did on the roof, and Luke feels content and elated; it still sings in his heart with each soft, seeking touch from Din. With each press of their lips he feels that same weightless joy and knows that’s the Force weaving it’s approval through him.

Luke makes a delightful discovery - Din has facial hair that catches against Luke’s face pleasantly; Luke reaches up to trace the fingers of his left hand along Din’s chin and jaw, his thumb rubbing at the edge of a trimmed mustache once he finds it. Din leans into the touch and adjusts their kiss to match, and Luke feels a tremor go through the other man when his blunt nails catch along his scruff. Din slides a hand down his neck to his shoulder, fingers teasing under the collar to trace along Luke’s clavicle.

“Do you have any idea -” Din asks, pressing the words to the soft skin of Luke’s chin and jaw, inhaling sharply when Luke whines low in his throat. His voice is already so rough and deep and causes heat to pool in Luke’s abdomen that he’s helpless to ignore. He drops his hands to Luke’s hips and holds him close. “- what you look like right now?”

Luke shivers and squeezes his eyes shut tighter, angling his chin to give Din more room as he continues to trail his lips along Luke’s jaw and up to his ear. “A mess, I assume.”

Din chuckles - the sound shudders against Luke’s pulse, his breath hot. “Not even close.”

Luke lets out a shaky laugh, his heart hammering in his chest. “If you say so.” He nudges his chin against the side of Din’s jaw, trying to convey that he desperately needs Din to kiss him again after a comment like that.

“I do,” Din murmurs. He presses an open mouthed kiss to the skin just behind Luke’s ear and sucks, hard, sending another shock up Luke’s spine, before turning to capture Luke’s lips indulgently. Luke sighs, happy, and drapes his arms over Din’s shoulders. His cape is still cold and damp and the contrast shoots a different shiver through Luke; he’s so warm there, between Din’s arms and his chest and his mouth, that he had forgotten the reason they were in the break room at all.

Din feels his shiver immediately, as close as they are, and hums. Luke feels the vibration of his voice against his arms, his chest, his lips. “Are you cold?”

Suddenly it all catches up to him - he’s there, pressed to Din, kissing Din, hearing Din’s voice without his helmet - and it’s been all Luke could think about for weeks. He’s not sure how he hasn’t simply fallen over or trembled out of his skin yet. Still, his knees are weak and he can’t find his voice, so he gives the barest of nods and keeps his eyes shut.

Din’s hands move to his arms, palms stroking along his skin from elbow to shoulder and back; Luke sighs and sags further into Din, who takes his weight without complaint. He presses his lips to Luke’s forehead, smiling, and Luke shudders out a breathy exhale.

After a few quiet seconds where he simply enjoys Din’s warming touch, Luke remembers he can do the same, and tentatively snakes the fingers of his left hand into Din’s hair. It’s short, full, and simultaneously soft and stiff from being under his helmet. Din tilts his head back into the touch, exhaling heavily, and Luke wonders how often Din gets to have this. Someone else’s hands in his hair or on his face, or if this is an exception - if Luke is an exception.

The scruff on his chin presses into Luke’s hairline and Luke pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, wondering if he should voice his thoughts. “Din?”

“Hmm?” He rumbles, still rubbing along Luke’s arms, still leaning into his touch. 

“How often do you do this?” Luke asks, voice quiet. Din’s palms slow but don’t stop, and he presses his lips against Luke’s drying hair.

“I don’t.”

Luke lets out a trembling breath and feels his face flush. “So that was your first...”

“Yes,” he answers, lips drifting down between Luke’s eyebrows. He kisses away the wrinkle there; Luke hadn’t realized his brow furrowed in concern over what Din’s answer may be. “There was no need to, before.”

Luke swallows and bites his lip again, enjoying the light scrape of Din’s stubble along his nose as his lips drift to his cheekbone. “Thank you.” For trusting me with this, he wants to add, but he believes Din understands.

Din huffs a low chuckle against Luke’s cheek, his breath warm. “You’re welcome,” he quips.

Luke scrunches his face up playfully and tilts his chin up with a grin. He runs his hand through Din’s hair again, rubbing his nails against his scalp. Luke doesn’t miss the quiet groan Din tries to swallow, or the tightening grip on his biceps. “Can I ask what color your eyes are?”

“The Force hasn’t told you?” Din asks, dryly, and Luke bites his bottom lip again to stop his grin from spreading.

“That’s not how the Force works,” he says with a laugh, before brightly adding: “You’re delightfully wicked.”

“And you’re abusing that lip of yours,” Din counters, voice deep, before dipping back to capture Luke’s mouth again.

Despite Luke knowing that their kiss earlier had been a first for Din (and utterly charmed for it), he is definitely a quick learner, and the languid pace from before is replaced with something undeniably urgent, if messy. He runs his tongue along Luke’s bottom lip, surprising a gasp from him, and Din takes that as an invitation. He pulls Luke’s bottom lip between his own and slides his hands around to Luke’s back to pull him closer. Luke goes willingly, his hand tightening in Din’s hair and earning a choked moan from him. 

It’s then that Luke realizes Din has him bent so far back along the counter that the back of his head is brushing the cabinets built into the wall. He isn’t uncomfortable, but he isn’t sure if Din has noticed.

“Din,” he gasps when they separate for a quick breath. Din’s mouth is on his again, this time his tongue gliding velvet-smooth behind Luke’s lips and coaxing one of the most embarrassing noises from Luke he has ever let out in his life when Din’s tongue finally meets his.

He is so glad that the door is locked and Ahsoka is on the other side of the floor.

The thought of Ahsoka potentially overhearing him is enough to prompt Luke to pull away from Din again. “Din,” he pants, his breath truly lost. “The cabinet -”

Din presses a burning kiss to the corner of Luke’s mouth and then pulls away entirely; Luke almost snaps his eyes open in protest - he wasn’t saying they should stop - but then yelps when he feels strong arms loop around his thighs and lift. He scrambles to find and grab onto Din’s shoulders to keep his balance as he’s carefully set on the counter. 

Then Din is back, hot palms on Luke’s knees that urge them apart, before he feels Din’s armor against his chest again once he fills the space Luke made for him. Din wraps an arm around Luke’s waist to keep him close and slides his other palm up Luke’s spine to tangle in his hair. 

Luke can’t catch his breath - between the direction their kiss headed and now this, Din lifting him onto the counter like he weighed nothing - Luke feels like this may just be his normal heart rate forever. It’s getting harder and harder for Luke to try to ignore the heat curling in his abdomen as Din’s lips sear against his neck and under his chin, and Luke shivers at the change in angle. He moans when Din licks at the cleft in his chin and desperately leans down to seek his mouth again. Luke finds the corner of Din’s smirk and nips at his lips in retaliation.

Doing all of this without his sight to guide him has made Luke more aware of Din - his stuttered gasps, his harsh breathing, his pulse jumping against Luke’s cybernetic hand where it still lingers on his neck - and Luke savors every second of it. He knows they can’t keep going like this, or he may make more of an embarrassment out of himself than usual, and he wouldn’t be able to face Ahsoka or R2 ever again. She has likely already figured out they’re up to something back here and has just been kind enough to give them some extra time. 

Still, he savors every gasp and groan and hitch of breath they share as their lips slide together before he has to start putting some space between them, hoping Din will forgive him. He hums when Din’s hand tightens and pulls lightly at his hair, ignoring how it makes his hands shake further and tries to pull Din closer. Had you asked him before if he thought beskar armor could be comfortably pressed against him, he would have laughed; now, he can’t think of anything else he would rather have, except perhaps Din sans armor.

As if sensing Luke needs them to slow down, Din tightens his arm around his waist once more and pulls back to kiss Luke chastely, once, twice, three times - Luke starts to giggle and tugs at Din’s hair. Din catches his hand with his own, pulling it around to press his lips to Luke’s knuckles softly.

“I got carried away,” Din mumbles, his voice absolutely wrecked, and Luke can feel some of his embarrassment leak out into the Force. He shakes his head and moves to cup Din’s cheek in his gloved hand; he hopes he isn’t too far off the mark.

“I wasn’t complaining,” Luke says, his own voice as broken as Din’s, and clears his throat. “I’m still not complaining. At all.”

Din laughs quietly, and Luke revels in the warmth that shoots through him, different from the desperate heat still lingering. “This shouldn’t have happened at your business. I should have waited.”

Luke shakes his head. “It’s alright, Din. Ahsoka and Artoo are here, I’m not missing anything.”

“Exactly - I should have waited until we were alone.”

The thought of being alone with Din, and where this could have progressed to if they were alone, makes Luke shiver again. He swallows and hopes he doesn’t come across as too forward. “Well, there’s always another time.”

“There is.” Luke can feel Din’s eyes on him, likely reflecting the same intent he feels in the Force, and flushes.

They’re quiet for a moment, Luke trying desperately to calm his heart after it started racing again, when Din continues. “Luke, I meant every word I said up there. I - I’m not the best at,” he pauses. “Expressing myself, but I would like to keep seeing you. If you’ll have me.”

Luke lets out a sigh that he knows is entirely telling and wraps his arms around Din’s shoulders, pulling him forward. He settles the other man’s face against his neck and runs his fingers through his hair, his pulse quickening when he feels Din’s mustache tickling the dip in his clavicle. “Like I said on the roof, I’d like that. Very much,” he adds.

Din’s lips press a smile to his skin. “I wanted to be sure.” His hands slide to frame Luke’s ribs over his tank, tracing the bone lightly. 

“I understand,” Luke whispers. He knows how he felt, days ago, when he didn’t think Din would ever return his feelings. Wanting to be sure of what they are doing is important - Luke knows that it would hurt him nearly to the point of breaking if he knew he could be so close to having what he wanted with Din and then have it taken away.

Din hums against his skin and presses a soft kiss there before he pulls away. “I won’t always be able to do this.”

Luke fights to not open his eyes in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“My helmet.” 

Luke doesn’t even have to think, remembering how he felt on the roof and in front of the blood orchids. “That won’t be an issue. This is wonderful, but so is anything with you.”

Din doesn’t say anything, just clutches Luke’s hand in his again and presses a hard kiss to his knuckles, and Luke wonders if he’s embarrassed him.

“Keep your eyes closed a little longer,” he says, and Luke nods. He feels Din shift to lean away from him and then the soft clicks of Din’s helmet locking back into place reaches Luke. Din takes his hand again. “Now.”

Luke opens his eyes for the first time since Din crowded him against the counter. The lights are more vivid than he remembers, so he blinks a few times, then smiles brightly at Din. He still stands in the spread of his knees but with a few inches of space between them, and Luke enjoys the slight height he has over the other man that he doesn’t normally have unless he’s behind the counter.

“There you are,” he says, and Din’s quiet laugh ripples through his modulator.

“Here I am,” he confirms, and Luke’s smile grows. He traces the lines of Din’s helmet with his gloved fingers and feels Din lean into the touch. There is a slight smudge from where Luke kissed the metal earlier, but he doesn’t wipe it away.

“I’m glad,” Luke continues. He hums to himself, enjoying being allowed to touch Din’s helmet like this, and kicks his heels gently against the counter he’s still sitting on.

“Do you still want to know,” Din begins after Luke has mapped every dip in the beskar before him. “The color of my eyes?”

Luke nods and can’t help but be painfully honest. “I want to know everything about you.”

Din seems thrown for a moment, but recovers quickly. “Brown.”

Luke smiles, closing his eyes to try to imagine what exact shades of brown they may be, how the light may hit them and highlight different shades, how they look when Din focuses on him, how his eyelashes may frame them - 

“I want that, Luke,” Din says, tone gentle but determined. Luke blinks out of his thoughts. “I want to know everything about you, too.”

Luke blinks rapidly, feeling tears immediately prick his eyes, and whines low in his throat when Din’s warm fingers graze the budding tears away. He opens his mouth a few times to speak before finally finding his words. “No one has ever wanted that from me.”

“I hope to be the only one,” Din answers, easy as anything, and Luke smiles around a sob. Din guides his forehead to rest against his helmet again, and Luke’s tears never fall, all caught by Din’s careful thumbs. 

They stay that way for a few moments more before Luke swallows and clears his throat. “I should get back out there.”

Din nods and pulls away, stepping back to help Luke down from the counter. “I need to go back for my gloves.”

Luke blinks, then barks a laugh - that must be what that noise was he heard and couldn’t place. “Oh no, where are they?”

“Somewhere on the roof.”

“Are they waterproof?”

“They were,” Din drawls. “Guess I’ll find out how much.”

Luke snickers and unlocks the door with the Force, moving to throw his black robes on before stepping out into the shop. “I’ll meet you at the front, then.”

When Din is moving towards the lift, Luke runs a hand through his hair again and starts for the front of the shop. The Force still simmers in joy around him, equal to Luke’s own, but he can still feel his nerves building. He hopes his appearance isn’t too rough.

Ahsoka takes one look at him and he immediately knows he’s failed.

“How’d it go?” She asks innocently, a smirk pulling the corner of her lips. Luke flushes and clears his throat.

“It went well,” he says evasively. “We talked things out.”

“Talked?”

“Yes.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t look like that’s all.”

“Ahsoka!” Luke hisses, looking over his shoulder to see if Din is back yet. When he only sees Tarisian roses staring back at him, he turns back to her. “We went up to the roof to talk and the sprinklers came on. I had to come change and we just...continued our conversation here.”

Ahsoka quirks the markings above her eyes in disbelief at him, taking a slow catalogue of his appearance, and Luke absolutely knows what she’s seeing: damp, clinging pants; not wearing the same shirt he started the day in, collar stretched out; his hair a drying mess and ruffled from both of their fingers - Din’s tugging and Luke’s fruitless attempts to straighten. He also wonders if his lips look as swollen as they feel. Luke feels the deepening flush staining his cheeks flare and squeezes his eyes shut, knowing he’s contributing little to his own defense.

“Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it,” he pleads when the silence stretches too long for comfort, and Ahsoka laughs at him.

“I was only going to say that I’m happy for you, Little Skyguy,” she says, and he blinks his eyes open at her. She’s smiling softly and Luke feels himself calm down enough to smile back. “I’m also glad it was me here and not Anakin.”

Luke buries his face in his hands and groans - Luke knows how lucky he is that he’s in this state in front of his aunt and not his father. The Force is absolutely on his side, here. “Don’t remind me.”

Ahsoka snickers and shrugs. “Well, you’ll have to have that conversation eventually.”

Luke knows, but hopefully it isn’t going to be in the near future.

“Where’s Artoo?” He diverts, looking around for the droid. Ahsoka grimaces. “What did he do?”

“Weeeeellllllll,” she starts, drawing the word out. “It’s not that he did anything, just what he didn’t do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We didn’t realize you guys were up on the roof when the sprinklers started,” she says, leaning against the counter. “Once we found out you two weren’t in the loft anymore, and Artoo put two-and-two together, he rushed out to try to get the water to turn off. But it was too late by that point, so Artoo has been sulking.”

Luke smiles - even though his droid had been more of a menace than a help for the whole day, that was sweet of him to try to prevent Luke’s time with Din from being rained on. 

“He’s in the storage room,” Ahsoka continues. That brings a fresh flush to Luke’s face and he coughs. The storage room entrance is through the break room, which means R2 was just on the other side of the wall while he and Din were - Talking.

“I’ll have to make it up to him,” Luke says, suddenly flooded with so much secondhand embarrassment he isn’t sure how he’s going to face R2 later. That explains why the droid hasn’t come out to greet him yet, at least.

Ahsoka frowns at him. “Why?”

“Uhm.” Should he say anything? He feels like he has to; she’ll get it out of him one way or another, or worse - from R2 directly. “The storage room entrance is in the break room.”

Luke watches as Ahsoka’s eyes slowly widen in realization. “So he heard you guys... Talking , in there.” Luke presses his lips together and nods. “Well, maybe you won’t have to worry about him eavesdropping on you anymore after this.”

Well, there’s a silver lining.

The Force calls Luke’s attention towards Din, armor peeking through petals as he walks up to them. He stops behind Luke and places a hand on the small of his back, and Luke turns to smile at him. “Did you find your gloves?”

Luke sees Ahsoka’s knowing smirk from the corner of his eye and ignores it.

Din nods, holding up his other hand and wiggling his fingers. “A little damp, but fine.”

“Can I replace them?”

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to,” Luke says. Din rubs his hand against Luke’s back, sliding up between his shoulder blades. Luke remembers how warm his hands are without his gloves and tucks his hands into the arms of his robes to hide how they’re suddenly shaking. Din just hums and tilts his helmet.

“Alright,” he says, and Luke beams at him.

His helmet turns towards Ahsoka. “I’ll. Head out, then.” Din’s hand slides further up to the back of Luke’s neck and pulls him forward, carefully pressing his helmet against Luke’s forehead again, and Luke’s eyes flutter shut at the pressure. “When can I see you again?”

“Call me tonight,” Luke breathes. “We can talk more then.” Din nods against him and then steps back, his hand lingering on Luke’s neck. His thumb strokes the skin behind Luke’s ear where he kissed Luke earlier, applying the barest of pressure; Luke isn’t able to suppress the shiver than runs through him.

“I’ll catch you later, Mando,” Ahsoka says, reminding them both of her presence. Din drops his hand from Luke and turns to her. “Don’t be a stranger, it was good to see you.”

“The same to you,” he answers, glancing once more at Luke. “Until later, cyar’ika.”

Luke smiles and watches him go until Din is out of his sight, utterly smitten, his heart hammering and his face still so flushed, and feels Ahsoka sidle up beside him and nudge his shoulder with hers.

“The Talk went well?”

“So well,” Luke breathes, distracted.

Ahsoka snickers, and when Luke looks at her she’s smiling. “So what was that?”

I don’t have to be alone anymore, he thinks. I don’t have to keep faking. Instead, he says: “I suppose I do have a boyfriend now, Ahsoka.”

She chuckles and claps a hand on his shoulder, leaning her weight on him. From the other side of the shop, he can hear R2 tentatively beeping about it finally being safe for him to come out, and feels his face flame again.

“That isn’t all you have, Little Skyguy,” Ahsoka teases. Luke furrows his brows at her and hums. She pokes her index finger into the skin behind his ear, where Din’s thumb had lingered, and winks at him.

“You also have a hickey.”

R2 resolutely does not look at him when he rolls back out into the shop.

Chapter Text

“Master Skywalker.”

Luke turns towards his uncle, unconsciously tugging the hood of his robes tighter against the back of his neck. The older man is on the other side of the hall, stepping out from the direction of the Archives and smiling over at his nephew. Luke relaxes and smiles back while he waits for Obi-Wan to reach him.

“Good morning, Master Kenobi,” Luke greets when Obi-Wan comes to a stop next to him.

Obi-Wan inclines his head in a slight nod. “It is a good morning, indeed. Where is Artoo?”

“With Ahsoka,” Luke answers. “I wanted to give him some time off.”

Obi-Wan hums and strokes his beard. “Any particular reason?”

“No,” Luke says too quickly. He tries not to think about poor R2 being stuck in the storage room the entire time he and Din were Talking in the break room the day before. It had been almost the end of the day before R2 addressed Luke again - not because of the situation he was trapped in, but because of the sprinklers.

R2 had sadly booped at him after they got back to the temple, asking if Luke could find it in himself to forgive the oversight, and he would like another chance to help, if he could.

Luke - who then felt even more guilty about the whole break room Talk (if at all possible) and the way he had been annoyed with R2 for most of the day - stuttered that the sprinklers were in no way R2’s fault and he shouldn’t beat himself up over it. Of course Luke would want his help, in fact he would be honored. 

Even with the air cleared, R2’s little dome camera definitely had trouble still meeting Luke’s eyes, and Luke had to wonder how much of the avoidance was the droid’s embarrassment or because of how much of his loud mouth R2 now had stored in his memory banks from the Talk. 

When he offered for R2 to spend time with Ahsoka that morning, R2 was practically tearing rubber out of his rooms before Luke could finish his sentence.

“I’m sure there are things around the temple he could help Master Tano with,” Obi-wan continues, easily gliding over Luke’s hurried response. He motions for Luke to walk with him and starts them towards the dining hall.

“Mmhmm,” Luke says, distracted. He falls into step with his uncle and folds his hands into the sleeves of his robes. 

It takes until they’re about to step into the dining room for Luke to realize he’s caught - Obi-Wan drops a hand to his shoulder and firmly steers him further down the hall, away from the other Jedi and younglings trickling into the dining room. He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs through his nose, resigned, as Obi-Wan guides him into what Luke realizes is a small storage room once he opens his eyes. Obi-Wan waves his hand to close and lock the door behind them and the familiar action immediately causes Luke to flush.

“Luke.”

“Ben.”

His uncle quirks an unimpressed eyebrow at him; Luke blinks and wills the flush on his face to die.

“You’re not doing a good job at hiding that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A beat. “Nephew.”

“Uncle.”

Obi-Wan lets out a world weary sigh and rubs his temples. The action reminds Luke of when he and Leia were caught stealing sweets before dinner as younglings. They were always able to get around Anakin, but not Uncle Ben. He isn’t looking forward to what usually follows that sigh.

“Do I really need to spell out that I can see a mark on your neck, Master Skywalker?” Obi-Wan says bluntly; Luke slaps a hand over his neck and takes a half step back from him, bumping directly into a shelving unit. Cleaning bottles rattle and clink together.

“I’ve got it under control!” Luke defends, his flush back in full force.

“Hardly.”

“If I pull my hood up like this, it works,” Luke says, emphasizing the action and pulling his hood tighter around his neck as he had done when he first saw Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan sighs another one of those sighs. “I saw it from across the hall when I found you this morning. Why do you think I walked on that side of you?”

“Because you walked up on that side!”

The thing is, Luke knows how vivid the mark is. It was a bright pink when Ahsoka pointed it out in the shop after Din left but it progressively darkened throughout the day, and when Din called Luke later that night, it was clear as kyber even over the holo. Din apologized before Luke could say hello, but Luke had dismissed it. He liked it, he confessed, despite knowing R2 was in the other room, but truly not worried - he had gotten his fill of listening in for one day, surely. He also told Din he would enjoy it happening again, to which the other man had grown very quiet and still. 

Luke just smiled and waited out the time Din needed to collect himself.

“Insufferable,” Obi-Wan murmurs. He searches Luke’s face, and after a moment, his eyes soften. “You spoke to him, then.”

Luke swallows. “I did.”

“It went well?”

“What do you think?”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “I would prefer to never think of my nephew in whatever capacity that mark came to be, thank you.”

Luke’s face flames again - alright, his uncle has a point. He wouldn’t want to see anything like this on his parents, Obi-Wan or Ahsoka, or Leia, for that matter. He would absolutely throttle Han if he left something similar on Leia for Luke to see, but chooses not to look too closely at why he doesn’t mind it from Din. “Point taken.”

Obi-Wan watches him again, eyes skimming over his face and settling on the purpled mark behind Luke’s ear. “You could heal it.”

Luke doesn’t even pause. “I don’t want to.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow at him. “That is a sign of possession, Master Skywalker. It is unbecoming of a Jedi Master, new tenants or not.”

“Unbecoming, sure, but not prohibited.”

“It represents an unhealthy attachment,” Obi-Wan counters.

“That isn’t what this is,” Luke says, hands falling from where they had been clutching his hood. He fights to not cross them over his chest, instead steepling his fingers at his belt. “Even with as much as we both want this, and especially with the Force’s blessing, I feel no concern with this becoming negative. In any way.” Luke pauses. “I feel nothing but honest affection for him and from him.”

Obi-Wan strokes his beard again. “The Council may have something to say about this, you know.”

Luke grins and huffs a laugh. “Honestly, I can’t wait to hear it.”

Obi-Wan chuckles. “Despite you turning the chair down, you are an honorary member, remember.”

“Sure. I also remember that I have more than one Council member in my family,” Luke teases with a grin.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes again and waves his hand to unlock the door, obviously done with their conversation. “Ahsoka and I will simply observe, as we always do.”

Luke shrugs, his grin spreading. “And I will stand my ground, as I always do.”

Obi-Wan smiles softly at Luke, affection shining in his eyes. “I know you will.”

Luke catches a gleam of beskar outside of Naberrie Blooms and quickens to a jog. He may be a little out of breath when he comes to a stop before Din, delighted smile in place, but Din doesn’t comment on it.

“Good morning!” Luke chirps. 

“Morning,” Din answers smoothly, voice low through his modulator.

Luke searches in a pouch on his belt for the key cylinder he uses when R2 isn’t with him, eyes still locked on Din. “This is a wonderful surprise. I wasn’t expecting you until much later.”

Din shifts his weight, and Luke would swear he seems almost nervous. “I - can come back later.”

“No!” Luke blurts, voice too loud, holding both of his hands up placatingly. He swallows and clears his throat. “I don’t mean it’s a bad thing, Din, I’m just - happy to see you.”

Luke feels Din’s eyes on him, likely searching his face, so Luke keeps his expression open and true. He really is happy he’s here; they had discussed Din coming by closer to when the shop closes, but Luke absolutely isn’t complaining.

After a moment, Din nods, and Luke relaxes. He resumes his search for the key cylinder and swiftly unlocks the shop, stepping in before Din and waving him to follow. 

“Where is your droid?” Din asks, falling in step behind Luke as he weaves through the flower displays to get to the break room. Luke swallows down his embarrassment.

“He’s with Ahsoka,” he answers, opening the door with a wave of his hand. Din doesn’t follow him in, waiting outside while Luke removes his robes and folds it over the back of one of the chairs. He is looking at the partially blooming onuumu buds when Luke steps back out into the shop.

“Don’t you need its help?” Din asks, helmet turning to Luke again. Luke shrugs.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, then pauses, tapping his gloved index finger against the cleft of his chin. “Besides, he’s earned a day away from me, I think.”

Din steps closer to him and gently takes Luke’s hand, replacing Luke’s finger on his chin with his thumb. Luke closes his eyes and leans into the soft touch, his heart stuttering at the quiet display of intimacy. “Who could want that?”

Luke lets out a shuddering breath, embarrassment flooding him again and almost edging out his elation at Din’s touch and comment. “Well, he may have been in the storage room yesterday. While we were, uh, Talking.”

Confusion from Din touches Luke in the Force. “...alright?”

Luke opens his eyes and carefully sets his other hand on Din’s vambrace. “The storage room door is the other one in the break room.”

Luke can feel Din tense under his palm, his thumb pressing more firmly against Luke’s chin. “You’re saying -”

“- he shared a wall with us, yes,” Luke rushes, his face heating. He finds the edge of Din’s glove with his thumb and presses, feeling Din’s pulse jump against him. “Don’t worry, we’re both equally embarrassed, so I figured the least I could do was give us some time apart.”

After a moment, Din huffs a laugh. “Sensitive thing.”

Luke shrugs. “He’s been with me since I was a child, and before me he was with my father. He’s more family than droid, honestly, and well - Artoo feels worse about the sprinklers than being stuck in that room, so we have different motivations to spend the day in exile.”

Din relaxes again, stroking his thumb higher to graze the bottom of Luke’s lip. “I’ll take your undivided attention while I have it, then.”

Luke opens his mouth to reply, the Force and his pulse thrumming, when he hears the bell over the shop door twinkle. He closes his eyes and drops his head back with a low groan. Din chuckles and tilts Luke’s head forward with his thumb still on Luke’s chin.

“I’ll be here,” he says, leaning his forehead to rest against Luke. Luke sighs and nods. 

“I suppose I’ll be back, eventually.”

He leaves Din to the break room, pointing out a small conservator under the counter that contains drinks and snacks. He is careful to shut the door behind him and goes to the front of the shop, plastering on a smile for a male Twi’lek who is looking for something pink to give to his partner. 

While Luke finishes wrapping up wadla flowers for him, the bell above the door tinkles again. Luke bites his tongue, wishes the Twi’lek a good day, and turns to a Bothan couple looking around the shop in wonder.

Unfortunately he has a steady stream of guests after the Twi’lek and Bothan couple leave. He wraps several bouquets, takes orders for larger arrangements for an engagement party and a celebration of life and another wedding, and partially regrets not having R2 there to help keep everyone entertained while he works through taking orders.

Still, after an hour or so, Luke is finally alone - he sags against the counter, his arms dangling over the other side while he presses his forehead to the cool metal. It makes him think of Din, still sitting in the back and waiting on Luke, and he leans more of his weight on the counter, now nearly prostrate across the top. He has a feeling he would get within a foot of the safety of the break room and someone else would walk into the shop.

Din is right there , right in the back of Luke’s shop, and Luke has to be responsible and stay out on the floor - which, not fair.

Luke groans against the metal and rolls his face back and forth, kicking one of his legs back while he grips the side of the counter. The frustration is ridiculous - he is ridiculous - so he just pulls himself further up the counter and lies there, waiting, arms hanging over one side while the toes of his boots graze along the floor on the other.

When the bell above the door is silent for several minutes, Luke sighs in relief and adjusts to fold his arms under his chin, closing his eyes and crossing his boots at the ankle. 

He yelps and almost slides sideways off the counter when something cold and wet presses against his flesh hand; a firm grip on his bicep stops him, but the spools of ribbon and cup of pens and markers aren’t so lucky. Luke winces as several roll over the edge and hit the floor, but looks up to see Din standing over him, grip still tight, and holding a bottle that Luke recognizes from his conservator. 

“Hi,” Luke says dumbly. Amusement radiates from Din, loud and clear, and Luke starts to grin at him.

“Comfortable?” Din asks, patting Luke’s shoulder now that Luke isn’t in any danger of falling off.

“I am now,” he answers, delighting in the chuckle from Din. Luke slides his boots back to the floor and hooks his ankle around a leg of the stool behind the counter to pull it closer. Din nudges the cold bottle across the counter once Luke is sitting like an adult before stooping to collect the casualties of Luke’s surprise from the floor.

“Thank you,” Luke says, waving a hand to use the Force to help clean up what Din hasn’t gotten to yet while he opens the bottle. He takes a sip of cool water and sighs, content, then casually leans back across the counter on his elbows. Din is carefully straightening spools and looks up when Luke settles closer.

“You were busy, thought you could use it,” he says. “Is it like that often?”

“Mornings can be, yes,” Luke confirms, resting his chin on one palm and ruffling his hair with the other. “I’m not open very late into the afternoon, so everyone tends to get here as soon as possible, I suppose.”

“Afternoons are better, then,” Din concludes. “For me to come by.”

Luke smiles and bites the inside of his cheek with a wink. “That’s usually when I get my best work done, too.”

Din stills and exhales so harshly his modulator crackles. “Menace.”

Luke laughs and offers a shrug. “What? That’s when I fill orders.” 

Din shakes his head and plants a palm on Luke’s face, pushing him back gently. “Bantha shit.”

Luke ducks from under Din’s hand and tilts to look up at him, Din’s fingers sliding into his hair instead. “You’re charming, you know?”

Din scoffs and shoves Luke’s face away again. “Drink your water, Jedi.”

Luke snickers but does as he’s asked, taking a slow sip from the bottle. Din leans against the other side of the counter, facing the direction of the door, vambrace and hand resting along the metal edge. Luke watches him, the slight rise in his shoulders from his breathing, the light and colorful flowers of the shop reflecting in his armor, and part of Luke still can’t believe he’s there. The Force has been singing for joy since they stepped into the shop together, and Luke is happy, but it’s still so surreal that just a short week ago Luke had nearly given up and wanted to rip his own heart out over this man.

“Can I ask you something?” Luke begins, capping the bottle and setting it aside. Din tilts his helmet towards Luke and nods. “Are all these flowers you’ve been getting actually a gift for someone?”

Din turns his helmet completely towards Luke. “Yes.”

Luke swallows. Din said he wasn’t seeing anyone, but - “Should I ask who?”

Din stares at Luke, and Luke stares back when Din is silent. Luke is starting to feel like he’s missed something huge, here, and can practically hear Din’s raised eyebrow when he says, “Really?”

“I, uh, yes?” Must be a massive miss, if Din’s body language is anything to go by.

“My son,” Din says flatly, amusement clear in his tone, and Luke squeezes his eyes shut and covers his mouth.

“That is,” Luke gasps. “ So sweet. Oh, Force, I need a minute. ” 

Really he should have figured it out when Ahsoka asked about Din’s son the day before but he had been far too distracted with the image his mind provided of Din with a little Mandalorian child, and now it’s happening again, except this time Din is kneeling in front of the little child and presenting them with one of Luke’s bouquets - 

Luke clamps both hands over his mouth to try to muffle the embarrassing whine he can’t fight, eyes still shut, and face absolutely on fire. As if Din could be any more attractive to him, now he just has to see him with his son. More amusement from Din colors the Force and Luke squirms in his seat.

Once he feels like he can look at Din without throwing himself over the counter, Luke clears his throat and opens his eyes. “Okay, sorry. I’m fine.”

Din casually nudges the water closer to Luke again, the implication to cool off quite transparent; Luke groans into his hands and feels his face flame again. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“The opposite,” Din quips. “There’s just better places to pass out.”

It takes every ounce of Luke to ignore that insanely, thinly veiled innuendo. He snatches at the bottle and takes his time to drain it, narrowing his eyes at Din - his amusement is clear, telling Luke Din knows exactly what he’s doing.

After finishing the bottle, Luke asks, “Can I meet him?”

Din - softens , is the only way Luke can think to describe how Din relaxes and leans closer towards him. “Soon.”

Luke beams at him and darts forward to press a kiss to Din’s beskar cheek. “I’m looking forward to it.”

It doesn’t take long for more guests to filter in after that, but Din stands near the counter instead of going back to the break room. Luke absolutely takes advantage of him - he hands Din arrangement after arrangement, the man holding them steady with a calm seriousness that betrays the flair of Luke tying off ribbons or trimming leaves and stems. It’s delightful, and Luke enjoys every second of it. Din observes quietly, occasionally murmuring the names of flowers he recognizes to Luke, who rewards him with gentle caresses on the inside of his wrists.

“Your Mandalorian friend is very helpful!” An older human woman comments as Luke hands over a beautiful bouquet of starblossoms, nova lilies, and ryoo, his favorite so far of the day.

“He is good with his hands,” Luke quips with a wink; she titters indulgently at him and Luke feels Din’s exasperation through the Force. Once the bell tinkles the woman’s departure, Din drops a hand to the back of Luke’s neck and squeezes playfully. 

“Still a menace,” he rumbles, stepping up closer behind Luke. Luke grins and leans back until he can feel beskar against his shoulder blades.

“Just returning the favor for that comment earlier,” Luke counters, humming when Din’s fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. The bell for the door tinkles again, and Din squeezes once more before his hand falls away.

Soon enough they’re alone again, and Luke glances at his chronometer. “Hmm, it’s already after midday.”

Din hums thoughtfully. “I didn’t realize.”

Luke smiles at him and turns to lean his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Time flies, right?”

Din chuckles quietly and nods. “It does.”

Luke continues to smile at him, eyes traveling over the slopes and angles of Din’s helmet. He feels immensely lucky to have Din there, spending most of the morning with him. 

“I need to leave,” Din says softly, his tone tinged with regret. Luke’s smile softens. “But I will be back.”

“Later?” Luke prompts; Din nods.

“I need to see my son,” Din continues. “I can be back when you close.”

“Do you need flowers?”

Luke senses Din’s hesitation and reaches out to press his palm to Din’s chest plate. “You can ask.”

“...I didn’t bring anything in exchange,” Din answers, hand covering Luke’s on his chest, and Luke laughs. 

“You know you never had to do that, right?” Luke says. Din tugs at his wrist and Luke steps forward with ease. “I would give you this whole shop if you asked.”

“Is it yours to give?”

“For you, it is.”

Din’s chuckle rumbles through Luke as he’s pulled against Din’s chest, both hands settling comfortably against beskar and humming with content when Din wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Dramatic.”

Luke ducks his head and snorts a laugh against Din’s cowl but keeps his mouth shut.

“I’ll bring something when I come back,” Din offers. The sloped cheek of his helmet presses against Luke’s temple.

“You really don’t have to - ”

“I want to,” Din interjects, softly, and Luke nearly melts against the other man. He steps closer, his boots nudging between Din’s, and lets out a sigh.

“If you insist.”

“I insist.”

Luke snickers. “Alright, then - I need my hands to pick out flowers.” Din just wraps his other arm around Luke’s waist and leans back, carefully, to rest against the flimsi cubbies. Luke shifts his weight to his toes and follows easily, sighing when Din raises his chin to allow Luke to press his nose against the high collar under his cowl. Luke feels heat steal up his neck and ears and slowly inhales.

Din smells metallic and warm and faintly spicy, tangy, like whatever soap he uses is mixing with the sheen of sweat that accumulates under his armor. Luke wonders if it’s really his soap or his aftershave, remembering the scruff he caught beneath his nails the day before. He lets out a soft sigh - hopefully, he has all the time in the galaxy to find out.

Din holds him for a few more minutes before relaxing his grip, and Luke pulls away with reluctance. He steps back and tugs at the hem of his tunic, straightening it to give his hands something to do before he falls back against Din.

“Starflowers again, or something else?” Luke offers, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Whatever you want.”

Luke smiles, and turns on his heels to venture into the aisles. Din stays at the counter.

Luke comes back with almost a twin to what he had created for the human woman before - starblossoms and nova lilies, but replacing the ryoo for starflowers. It is a beautiful yellow, white, and blue bouquet, and Luke hopes Din’s son will like it.

He hands the flowers to Din to hold while he trims and wraps, picking a silver flimsi that shines like Din’s beskar, and cuts a strip of blue ribbon. “Does he wear armor, too?”

“He is too young,” Din answers, sliding his hands to hold the flimsi in place while Luke ties off the ribbon.

Luke isn’t disappointed, now imagining Din’s son running around playing in his father’s helmet when Din isn’t wearing it. He smiles, flushing, and whispers a soft, “Cute.”

Din chuckles and Luke’s flush deepens; he didn’t really mean to say that aloud, but the Force doesn’t let him pluck words from thin air. It was a hard lesson to learn as a youngling.

Luke fluffs a nova lily’s petals and clears his throat instead, moving along. “All set.”

Din turns the flowers around slowly, taking in the arrangement carefully like he does each time. After a moment, he nods. “Beautiful.”

Luke pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and feels the flush creeping up his face again. “Thank you. I hope he likes them.”

“I know he will,” Din says, visor angling to look at Luke again.

“Would you tell him I said hi?” Luke asks, nervous. He clenches his fingers together and rushes to add: “If it isn’t too weird, I mean - he hasn’t even met me, and - nevermind, I guess that would be weird -”

“It isn’t,” Din assures. “I’ll pass it along.”

Luke beams at him. “Thank you, Din.”

Din stills before giving a jerky nod. “I’ll - I’ll see you. Soon.”

Luke nods back. “I’ll be waiting.”

Din, holding the bouquet out to his side carefully, steps closer to Luke and tilts his helmet down with intent. Luke meets his forehead with his own before Din even gets a hand on Luke’s shoulder.

“You make it hard to leave, cyar’ika,” Din whispers between them, voice almost a purr, and Luke feels a shiver run down his spine. It’s too easy to imagine Din saying that to him without his helmet, without much of anything between them - Luke swallows.

“Better go now, then,” Luke says, voice hoarse. He swallows again. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

Din exhales, the sound fuzzing against his modulator, and rubs his thumb along the side of Luke’s neck. “In a few hours.”

Luke hums and is torn between leaning into Din’s hand and keeping his forehead snug to Din’s helmet. He settles for turning to press his lips just under Din’s visor. “Take as long as you need.”

Din presses his thumb under the hinge of Luke’s jaw, against the racing pulse of his heart, before stepping back. “Just a few hours.”

Luke isn’t sure if he’s assuring himself or Luke, but it makes Luke’s eyes flutter shut and he sways to lean further into Din; Din places a large palm over the center of his chest and gently presses him to lean back against the counter. Luke opens his eyes and huffs.

“Don’t complain about how hard it is for you to leave when you’re touching me like that,” Luke teasingly laments. “You’re not playing fair.”

Luke can feel Din’s smirk in the Force. “I play to win, Luke.”

Luke scoffs playfully and turns on his heel, slapping his hands down on the counter to keep his balance. His face feels like one of Tatooine’s suns, and he won’t give Din the satisfaction of seeing how flustered he is.

It’s a losing battle - ‘flustered’ is Luke’s default setting around Din, it seems.

Din chuckles at the display and ruffles Luke’s hair before stepping around the counter and down into the shop. “I’ll be back.” 

Luke narrows his eyes at Din, fighting his growing smile, and sticks his tongue out at him instead; Din gives him a lazy salute and leaves, the bell tinkling brightly behind him.

Luke smiles to the empty room, heart still pounding, and wonders if this is how his father feels about his mother.

Chapter Text

15:15

15:16

15:17

Luke huffs and rests his chin in his hands. Watching the chronometer doesn’t help anyone, ever, and as a man nearly thirty standard years of age, he should know this by now.

There’s got to be something more for him to do. Another unforeseen problem with R2 not coming to the shop with him is a lack of conversation. Luke can only make small talk with his guests for so long when he’s asking about the occasion for the flowers and taking their credits. Foot traffic slowed considerably not long after Din left, leaving Luke plenty of time to pull together a few orders and set them into cold storage beneath the loft. He sighs when he shuts the door behind him, wondering how today would have been different had R2 chosen the cold storage for his wallowing than the one in the break room.

Still, Luke has nothing more to occupy his time with the closer and closer the time for closing comes. Orders have been filled, the floors cleared of dead leaves and fallen petals, flimsi and ribbons restocked, lunch ordered and eaten - Luke huffs again, puffing his bangs up from his forehead.

He had also long given up on any sort of respect for his counter and hauled himself up to sit with his legs crossed, elbows on knees, staring out into the sea of flowers. Luke inhales the sweet scent that always permeates the shop and wonders if it would be worth it to start moving displays around. It would kill time, surely, but he may also not finish it today. Luke glances down at his chronometer again, wondering if it is actually worth entertaining.

15:20 - absolutely not.

He sighs and drops his legs over the side of the counter, kicking the heels of his boots against the metal, and taps his gloved fingers over his knee.

Meditation could help him pass the time, but knowing Luke, he would miss the bell announcing someone’s arrival and make a fool of himself. Again.

Luke glances down at his boots - still gleaming from the polishing that morning - and wonders if maybe he should shine them again? He doesn’t know what Din may have planned for when he returns, if anything at all, and now Luke is spiraling into worry over his appearance.

He thinks of menacing mystery and shining beskar and quickly decides it doesn’t matter how he’s dressed; he certainly isn’t the most striking of the two of them, and would likely continue to look rather normal next to Din regardless of what he wore - which, challenge accepted, he definitely has unique clothing back at the temple, courtesy of sharing both of his parents’ sense of flair. Looking down at his tunic, a thread of uncertainty makes Luke shift - does he look like he belongs next to Din? To anyone who didn’t already know him or happen to catch the hilt at his side, he is forgettable. Just another human amongst the many on the planet and in the galaxy. 

Jedi aren’t meant to stand out, are meant to simply blend into the galaxy and the Force and help preserve the balance - the galaxy’s diplomats. Simplicity is key. Mandalorians cut a devastating silhouette, their armor and weapons and sheer strength on full display at all times. Luke’s lithe form and robes belies his own strength, but Din - Luke remembers the effortless way Din had lifted him onto the break room counter and swallows, kicking his heels restlessly again.

One look at the pair of them and anyone would assume Luke hired Din for protection.

He slides off the counter and rolls his shoulders, arching his back in a long stretch. Luke usually revels in people underestimating him, but he doesn’t want to present himself unworthy of Din’s attention or affection. He supposes he will have to deviate more from the suggested Jedi wardrobe and knows that he is both well equipped and delighted to do.

In the meantime, Luke at least has his boots that he takes more than a little pride in, and he has definitely noticed Din looking.

After venturing to the break room and returning to the front with what was left of the last bit of chocolate Din brought him, Luke hops back up onto the counter and checks his chronometer again before immediately groaning.

15:30

Could he close early? Please? He’s his own boss and R2 isn’t there to tell on him today.

Luke breaks off a piece of chocolate bark and shoves it into his mouth with more aggression than probably needed, cursing his responsibilities for the day yet again.

Luke manages to kill another few minutes with chocolate, collecting the remaining red rock salt and chocolate shavings in the bottom of the box on the pad of his thumb and licking it clean. He tosses the box in the trash compactor in the break room and pushes his sleeves up to wash his hands, glove set aside, glancing down at the slight discoloration of the synthetic skin on his forearm. He isn’t sure if Din noticed the off feel of the skin beginning below his elbow the day before, but he’s certainly been kind enough to not comment on Luke’s single glove so far.

Luke dries his hands and pulls the glove back on, stepping back into the shop. He forces himself to not watch time trickle by and instead makes a slow circuit around the first floor, adjusting placement, stroking petals, checking water levels, and adding more nutrient solution when the flowers ask through the Force.

When Luke tucks away his supplies and starts to head up to the terrarium loft, his mind intent on checking the Alderaanian flame-roses, he almost misses a familiar simmer through the Force. Then the bell above the door tinkles, and he’s rounding the Queen’s Heart display on instinct with a growing smile on his face.

Din steps down into the shop and meets Luke in the center, taking Luke’s hand when he reaches out to him. 

“Welcome back,” Luke says, unable to control the vibrancy of his smile and hoping he doesn’t look too eager.

Din rubs his thumb over the back of Luke’s hand. “I see you managed to entertain yourself without me.”

Luke thinks of his impatience and chronometer-watching and promptly ignores it. “I have the patience of a Jedi.”

Din doesn’t say anything, but Luke can read the quiet amusement with little effort. He huffs a laugh and shoves Din’s shoulder lightly with his other hand. “What? I do!”

“Mmhm,” Din flippantly agrees, indulgent, and prompting Luke to laugh again; he pulls Luke forward to rest their foreheads together. Luke sighs, his smile softening - he knows he will never tire of this. Din pulls back and covers Luke’s hand with both of his. “What can I do?”

Luke checks his chronometer - 15:50 - and sighs with relief. Finally he can start closing the shop. “I just need to check on the roses in the loft and that’s it. Can you lock the door?”

Din nods and squeezes Luke’s hand before letting him go. Luke smiles, hands over his key cylinder, and turns back to the ladder behind the Queen’s Heart. Once he is in the second floor terrarium, he looks over the railing to see Din returning to the counter from the door, helmet turned towards Luke. He ducks his head against a blush, hoping he didn’t look too impatient while he scrambled up the ladder, and heads to the back where the roses are still maturing in the heat box. 

Luke checks the temperature of the water and adds more nutrient solution, wipes some of his fingerprints from the glass, and then checks on the overflow flowers he keeps in the soil pods before settling his hands on his hips. R2 checked the flowers on the roof in his avoidance of Luke yesterday, and the automatic sprinklers have already gone off, so Luke truly is nearly done with closing.

He turns back to the ladder and uses the railing to slide down to the first floor, boots dropping lightly on the tile. Din is still at the counter when Luke walks around the Queen’s Heart; he rolls over the key cylinder - clinking metal on metal - when Luke steps behind the counter. He catches it before it rolls onto the floor, pockets it, and pulls out a cloth he keeps tucked away, thanking Din before propping his hip against the counter. “Did your son like his flowers?”

“He did,” Din answers. Luke nods, pleased. “And he was happy to hear from you.”

Luke smiles softly, ducking his chin and focusing too closely on wiping his hands. “I’m glad.”

Din watches him while Luke finishes up fumbling his hands and tucks the cloth away again, a comfortable silence settling over them. Luke shuts down the datapad he uses to collect payment and seals it and any loose credit chips into the floor safe, locking it with the Force, and replaces the mat that covers it in its usual place. 

“Luke, are you needed back at the temple?” Din softly asks when Luke stands back up. Luke blinks at him.

“Not really,” Luke answers. He smooths a hand down the front of his tunic, wondering if he knows where this is going but trying not to get ahead of himself. “No one has called me back for anything urgent.”

Din shifts his weight, and Luke bites the inside of his cheek in anticipation. “I - have you been to the Skydome?”

Luke thinks for a moment. “The Skydome Botanical Gardens?” When Din gives a jerky nod, Luke shakes his head slowly, his pulse beginning to race. “No, I never could find the time, between here and the temple.”

He shifts again on the other side of the counter, his helmet angled away slightly, like he can’t quite look at Luke. “Would you like to go - with me, tonight?” Din asks, his words rushed, almost blurted, and Luke bites his lip against a smile. He is irrevocably gone on this shy, charming Mandalorian.

“Are you asking me on a date, Din Djarin?” Luke asks coyly, both to be a little bit of a shit and also to silence that small part of him that doesn’t think he’s worthy of Din. Din huffs, his helmet turning towards Luke with purpose.

“We already established this,” he deadpans, startling a laugh out of Luke. Luke can feel how flustered and nervous he is through the Force, and it reminds him that Din is just as affected as he is with what they’re doing. “Call it whatever you want, I just want to be there. With you.”

Luke leans across the counter and places both hands on Din’s helmet, pressing a light kiss to Din’s forehead. “And I don’t want to be there with anyone but you.” He feels Din lean into him, his hands framing Luke’s around his helmet. He pulls back to smile at Din, thumb rubbing just under the edge of his visor.

“I’m calling it a date, then,” Luke chirps, his face flushing. “Since that’s what we’re doing.”

Din’s hands slide down to his wrists and gently squeeze, setting Luke’s pulse off to another rapid pace. He licks his lips and thinks about what Din told him in the break room, wanting to learn everything about him, and lets out a shaky exhale.

Din, starting to pick up on Luke’s unspoken responses, softly asks: “Are you alright, Luke?”

Luke’s smile grows. “More than alright.” He presses his forehead against Din’s and can’t contain his giddy giggle. “I can’t remember ever being this happy before.”

Din hums, the sound low and content. “We can go now, if you want.”

“Should I change first?”

“No, I...” Din trails off. Luke starts to pull back but Din tightens his hold to keep him in place. “I like the way you look.”

Luke squeezes his eyes shut against the lump of emotion in his throat and ignores the way his face immediately heats again at the compliment. He knows Din saw him dressed down after the sprinklers, and didn’t seem concerned - quite the opposite, Luke swallows - but he’s back to wearing one of his regular Jedi tunics today. He can’t help but voice some of his inner concern from earlier.

“You don’t mind the uniform?” 

“Do you mind my armor?” Din softly counters. 

“Not at all,” Luke says, surprised Din would even ask. “It’s a part of you, of who you are.”

“And your Jedi uniform is part of you,” Din points out. “I don’t care what you wear when I’m with you.”

Luke’s eyebrows slowly climb up his forehead, and Din seems to realize what, exactly, he said. He carefully straightens up from leaning into Luke’s space, hands still loose around Luke’s wrists, and clears his throat. “Uh.” His voice is hoarse.

Luke presses his lips together to fight the smile threatening to take over and magnanimously lets Din take his time uninterrupted. After a moment, Din clears his throat again. “So. I do care. A bit.”

Luke Skywalker wouldn’t be Luke Skywalker if he didn’t instigate every now and then. “Just a bit?”

“Silence, Jedi.” Din’s tone is curt, clearly embarrassed.

“Well, I want to know what I’m working with, here -”

“Luke -”

“I think the younglings recently designed outfits for a traveling circus -”

“Luke.”

“Boots: on or -”

“Cyar’ika.” Din’s hands cradle Luke’s face gently, thumbs tracing the corners of Luke’s smiling lips. “We haven’t left yet and you’re already killing me.”

Luke’s heart thumps against his rib cage. “Are you saying I’m dangerous for you, Mandalorian?”

“You’re definitely something,” Din teases; he quickly pinches Luke’s cheek before stepping away from the counter entirely, ignoring Luke’s surprised squeak and effectively dodging his flailing slap. “Are you ready?”

Luke rubs his cheek against his shoulder, grinning too wide to fake offense. “I just need my robes from the back, then we can go.”

Din nods and turns to the break room to retrieve them. Luke watches him go with unfiltered affection, his heart in his throat, and the Force weaves with joy between them.

The Skydome is too far from the shop to walk; after Luke finishes locking the door once they’re outside, he’s surprised to see that Din had already rented an air taxi that was patiently waiting for them. He smiles at Din and nudges his shoulder against a hard pauldron as they walk over.

“You were pretty confident I would agree to this.”

Din tilts his helmet towards Luke and holds his hand out, gesturing to the speeder. “Something told me you would.” Luke huffs a breathy laugh and takes Din’s hand to keep his balance while he steps in. Din settles in the seat next to him and nods at the pilot.

Luke doesn’t bother trying to keep his hood up in the wind on the ride to the Skydome, glancing at all the other taxis and speeders whizzing by. He enjoys the warmth of Din next to him and inches closer as they near their destination. They’re almost there when Din finally seems to catch on and slightly turns toward Luke, casually laying his arm over the seat behind Luke’s shoulders; Luke offers him a private smile and rests the back of his neck against Din’s bicep.

They stay that way until they arrive.

Luke offers to pay for the taxi as they’re stepping out, but Din shakes his head and holds Luke’s wrist firmly to stop him from going back to the pilot. To Luke’s surprise, Din makes no move to pay either - the human male simply turns over his shoulder and grins at them.

“Catch ya later, Mando! Make sure t’keep yer hands to yerself ‘round the man-eaters!” 

Din nods and the pilot gives him a lazy salute against the brim of his cap, turning to signal and pull back out into traffic. Luke blinks at the side of Din’s helmet after running a hand through his hair, hoping he doesn’t look too windswept. “Do you have a pilot on retainer?”

Din chuckles softly, squeezing Luke’s wrist before letting go. “Something like that.” Din glances towards him, pausing for a moment. “Tarl is the younger brother of a friend. When she found out I’d be here for a while, she arranged it.”

Luke hums. “That’s kind.”

“And helpful,” Din admits. “It was...thoughtful, of Peli. But things aren’t always face value with her.”

The clear exasperation in Din’s tone causes Luke to snicker, wondering how often this Peli may have pulled a fast one over on Din. “Oh?”

Din places a barely-there hand on the small of Luke’s back, starting them towards the small line at the Skydome’s entrance. A shiver runs up Luke’s spine. “She’s volunteered me on more than one occasion as a taxi service,” he answers flatly. “Once I met Tarl, the reasons why started to make more sense.”

Luke laughs and folds his hands into the sleeves of his robes as they walk. “So she’s used to getting what she wants, then?”

“There are a lot of assumptions and no asking for forgiveness later,” Din replies. They stop at the end of the line, and Luke tilts his head back to take in the sheer size of the Skydome, even with several nearby skyscrapers battling for height. It reflects brightly in the afternoon light, and Luke can see the dark green of tall trees through the transparisteel. His excitement grows the closer they get to the front of the queue.

“Good afternoon, welcome to the Skydome Botanical Gardens,” the droid at the booth greets when Din and Luke step up. “Two?”

Din nods, credits already down on the counter before Luke can react. The droid sweeps them into a til and the light above the door to their left flickers green. “Enjoy your visit.”

“Thank you,” Luke answers, flustered. He suddenly realizes that in his excitement, he forgot one key thing - he’s never actually been on a date before, ever, and if such a simple thing like Din paying their entrance fee is enough to throw him, this entire evening is going to be quite the experience. 

Other visitors mill around the entrance, picking up pamphlets and maps, and Din weaves them through the small crowd to stand before a lit board displaying the map. “What do you want to see first?” He asks, voice low, and Luke swallows. His heart is already hammering from something so simple; he’s absolutely going to make a fool of himself.

Still, Luke looks over the map. The carnivorous plants seem to be a key attraction, settled in a large exhibit towards the back; to the left is a display for medicinal and scientific flowers that Luke feels his uncle would thoroughly enjoy. A true stand-out is a pathway back to the front from the carnivorous plants, leading through a meadow of different types of roses. Luke wants to save that for last, but then he sees there’s a nursery of gorsa trees and candlewick flowers that surrounds the carnivorous area. He expects they will look beautiful once the stars are out, and could be a chance for a quiet moment alone.

“Will we be here long?” He asks before suggesting their direction. 

“As long as you want to be,” Din answers. Luke’s heart hammers against his ribs. 

“There’s a display of flowers that only blooms at night,” Luke begins. “The WeatherNet said the evening would be clear.”

Din nods. “We have a few hours, then. Which way?”

Luke bites his bottom lip and flushes. Din agreed so easily. “Let’s go left, for now.”

They step away from the board and towards the medicinal and scientific section, Luke clenching his hands together in the sleeves of his robes to curb their trembling and give himself an excuse to not reach out to Din. Instead he walks close, his shoulder brushing Din’s pauldron occasionally, and hopes the flush on his face dies down soon.

The area with the flowers for study is little more than a large greenhouse laboratory with an open path down the center; there are scientists working behind glass with several flowers, some dressed in full biohazard suits, and Luke can identify the kibo flower from Yavin IV, a rare flower with seeds that could restore failing eyesight, and a batch of light purple star-mist.

Luke steps closer to the glass and watches a human begin crushing a handful of star-mist; Luke grimaces, feeling the flower’s waning pain touch him in the Force. Din stands next to him.

“Do you know what they’re doing?” he asks. Luke nods.

“Towards the end of the Clone Wars, a biochemist discovered that crushed star-mist, once boiled with alcohol and dried, could stimulate nerve regrowth. It was in high demand after the war ended, as you can imagine, and still something that is supplied to Republic hospitals today,” Luke says. The human continues to grind the petals down into a fine purple mash, and Luke sighs. “The outcome is wonderful, and the flower is happy to provide its service, but the pain it goes through for such a strong sacrifice...”

Din’s helmet turns away from the glass to look directly at Luke. “You can feel it?”

Luke nods. “The flower’s pain was brief, and it’s over now, but yes. I can feel it.”

“...is that a Jedi or a florist thing?”

Luke barks a laugh, stifling the sound with his gloved hand. His heart swells with fondness when he smiles at Din. “Primarily a Jedi thing, but definitely kind of a florist thing, too.” 

Din hums, the sound low through his modulator. Luke watches the human dump the mashed star-mist into a clear bowl already almost full of the stuff; they grab a few vials and droppers and begin mixing. He pulls his attention away to a gathering of blue puffballs sealed in a transparisteel box, their tall stalks and pillow-like bulbs belying the danger in their pollen. 

After wandering the other flowers and placards with mild curiosity, Luke mentally noting the ones he will share with Obi-Wan later, they step out of the greenhouse lab. Din clears his throat slightly. “How?”

Luke pauses, recalling the threads of their previous conversation. “The Force.”

Din guides them to the side of the walkway to let others pass, his hand on the small of Luke’s back again. “How does it work, I mean.”

Luke smiles softly, warmed again by Din’s hand. “What do you know of the Force?”

Din tilts his helmet in thought; Luke doesn’t think he will ever not find the quirk charming. “I don’t understand it.”

Luke nods and unfolds his hands from his robes. “No one ever truly will, in my opinion.” He leans his elbows over the fencing and laces his fingers together, looking at a bed of commelina. The bulbs are small, likely newly transplanted, the dirt around them dark and fresh. “The Force is everything, it lives and flows through and around all living things. No one can ever understand everything, no matter how hard they may try.” Din stands next to Luke, listening. “Were someone to say they understood it entirely, they would be trying to sell you something.”

Din chuckles, and Luke smiles over at him. The sun lowered in the sky while they were in the greenhouse; orange light now reflects off of Din’s beskar, and Luke feels his breath catch. Din is undeniably handsome, no matter the place, but standing in the fading sunlight beside Luke - Luke swallows the swell of emotion in this throat and clenches his fingers tighter together to hide the trembling; he just can’t seem to keep it at bay around Din. He turns to look back at the flowers.

“I can feel the Force, through a strong connection,” Luke continues softly, still overwhelmed by Din. “That is the easiest way I know to explain it. I feel it all, it speaks to me. Sometimes in words, but usually it’s in emotions. Because of my connection and my training, I can use the Force, and the Force uses me. It’s symbiotic.” Luke pauses. “For example, today I knew which of my flowers needed water and which needed more nutrient solution because they told me through the Force. The star-mists here shared with me their pain, and these commelina -” Luke holds his cybernetic hand out, index and middle finger outstretched, “- they want to be beautiful.”

Luke’s eyes close, and gently, he urges the Force to reach out to the young flowers and provide them the nurturing they want. He hears Din’s breath hitch next to him, and when he opens his eyes, he sees the fresh patch of commelina unfurling their hot pink petals towards the setting sun. Luke smiles and pushes his appreciation to the Force, and the flowers sing in reply.

He laces his fingers together again and looks at Din, who is still staring at the newly-bloomed flowers in quiet awe. “They are happy, now.”

Din looks over at him; Luke sees his shoulders rise in quick breaths. “What about people?”

Luke bites his bottom lip. “It feels more invasive, and something that requires training to control so it isn’t always like that - but yes, it’s the same idea. For me.”

Din steps closer to Luke; Luke straightens from his lean and keeps his expression neutral. He isn’t sure how Din will take that news. Some claim Jedi to be invasive mind readers, taking information without permission from people and without them even knowing what happened. There are some Jedi who do, who are trained in those arts - Luke tends to have a natural gift for almost everything he is trained in because of his strong connection to the Force, but he keeps a tight rein on that particular skill. He would never want to hurt someone like that.

“And me?” Din asks, voice low, and Luke lets out a shaky breath.

“I can only feel when you’re feeling something exceptionally strong,” Luke confesses. “I would never press without permission, but sometimes you feel...” Luke trails off, licking his lips. This is going to sound terrible. “Loud.”

Din, surprisingly, relaxes slightly. “Loud?”

“You were nervous to ask me here tonight,” Luke says, glad that Din seems to be taking this well. “You were happy with me on the rooftop of the shop.” Din wraps a hand around Luke’s forearm. “You were worried for me, before.”

Din rubs his gloved thumb in circles over the thin skin of Luke’s wrist, pressing when Luke’s pulse jumps. “I was,” he agrees. “And I wasn’t trying to hide those.”

Luke smiles softly, feeling a flush creep up his neck. “You shared them with the Force, and the Force shared them with me.” Luke licks his lips again, searching for the words to make what he is about to say next exceptionally clear. “You don’t have to worry about me doing anything without your permission, Din. I would never betray your trust like that.”

Din places Luke’s hand on the side of his helmet and leans against his palm. “I know.”

Luke’s heart stutters and he swallows, overwhelmed again. “You’re amazing,” he blurts and winces, immediately feeling his face flame.

Din chuckles softly at him, squeezing his hand with affection before letting go. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Luke says with determination, keeping his hand on Din’s helmet and deciding to own his fumble. He lifts his chin in a playful challenge. “Do you have a problem with it?”

Din leans down to rest his forehead gently against Luke’s and sighs through his modulator. “Never. Although it sounds like trouble finds you easily,” he teases.

Luke blinks, thinking about the last time Obi-Wan had to drag him away from a cantina when someone was making loud and lewd observations about Leia, unaware that her brother was within earshot. It had been a few weeks, at least. “That depends on what you mean by ‘easily.’”

Din huffs a laugh and leans back, fingers brushing some of Luke’s bangs from his eyes. “Good to know I’m right, then.”

Luke rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree, patting the side of Din’s helmet twice. “Being right doesn’t always mean everything, Mando.”

Din laughs again when Luke grabs his arm and leads them back onto the path, steps determined. Din easily falls in line beside him and covers Luke’s hand with his own. They walk in silence for a few minutes, Luke unsure if he should drop his hand lower to hold Din’s or move away entirely, when Din speaks.

“Luke, I have something for you.” Luke looks over; Din’s hand moves away from his and is on his belt, pulling a small clear plastic baggie from his side and offering it to Luke as they walk. Luke carefully takes it and feels his brows furrow. 

“What is it?” Luke can see various shapes in the bag - waxing and waning moons and stars, all slightly opaque, with what looks similar to the rock salt floating in them.

“Gummy candy,” Din supplies. Luke is immediately excited. “The shop was out of the chocolate you like; I got this instead. My son likes them. I thought you may, too.”

Luke smiles so wide his face hurts. “You didn’t have to, Din.” He unseals the bag and pulls out a neon green piece shaped like a star and pops it into his mouth. The flavor of juicemelon floods his mouth as he chews, followed quickly by crunching and fizzling from the rock candy in the center. “Fuck me, this is delightful,” Luke moans, fishing out a vivid purple moon that he hopes is Jogan fruit flavored.

Din definitely stumbles beside him but is quick to catch himself; Luke looks behind them to make sure there wasn’t a rogue root or break in the stone that could have caused it, then flushes.

He awkwardly returns his hand to Din’s arm and pats consolingly. “I mean, thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” is Din’s strangled reply, clear through the modulator, and Luke hides his grin with the purple moon gummy.

It is Jogan fruit and the blue one is unsurprisingly bluefruit, but Luke is floored when he tries the red one and finds it to be desert plum. He offers one to Din, who declines with a gentle shake of his head. “This is desert plum, from Tatooine. Can you believe it? Have you had one before?”

Din shakes his head again. “I haven’t.”

“They’re sweeter than Jogan fruit, honestly, and so hard to find. They grow only where there’s a lot of water in the soil - you’ve seen a galoomp?” When Din nods, Luke continues. “Those annoying things love desert plums and dig all over the planet for them. Moisture farmers follow them around and know where the water is because of it.” 

“That’s helpful,” Din comments. Luke shrugs.

“Galoomps have their uses, although it’s a short list.” He pops the red gummy into his mouth and chews, thoughtful. “I trained on Tatooine as a Padawan for several years. I have an uncle and aunt there; they let Master Kenobi, my sister, and I stay with them for a few years.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Din drawls, and Luke barks a laugh. He covers his mouth with a grin.

“It wasn’t exactly a vacation, that’s for sure,” Luke continues. He reseals the bag of candy, having tried one of each color, and tucks it away into a pouch on his belt. “When we weren’t training, I helped on the farm. It wasn’t fun work.”

Luke’s hands, now free of candy, begin to tremble again. He takes a deep breath and slides his hand down the inside of Din’s arm and vambrace, fingers teasing the edge of Din’s glove. He captures Luke’s hand with his and squeezes, his grip tight. Luke’s heart hammers and he looks down at the sight of their hands clasped together, a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

“Your sister is a Jedi?” Din asks. Luke glances over at him and shakes his head.

“She trained so she could control her powers, but left the Order after passing her Trials and becoming a Knight,” Luke says. “She instead followed in our mother’s path - you may have heard of her, she’s the Senator of Naboo - Leia Amidala.” At Din’s questioning hum, Luke continues: “She took our mother’s name. I have our father’s.”

After a moment, Luke continues, voice low. “I would like you to meet her, someday.”

Din looks over at him. “...I would like that, too.”

Luke bites his bottom lip but smiles at Din, suddenly so giddy, and presses his shoulder into Din’s pauldron; Din presses back.

They pass a cart selling refreshments and a sparkling peach drink catches Luke’s eye. He tugs on Din’s hand to bring him to a stop, jerking his chin towards the cart when he turns to look at him. “Want one?”

“No,” Din answers. “But don’t let me stop you.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Luke winks, squeezing Din’s hand, before stepping into the short queue for the cart.

Luke returns a few minutes later, a clear plastic cup with bright violet, fizzing liquid in his gloved hand. He walks to where Din stands beneath a tree, waiting for him, and uncaps the lid. There’s a slice of purple peach settled on top of the ice that he plucks out and offers to Din.

Din looks down, seemingly studying the fruit in Luke’s fingers, before gently shaking his head. “Tempting,” he murmurs, hand wrapping lightly around Luke’s wrist and directing the fruit back towards him. “You take it.”

Luke blinks at him, but nods, eating half of the slice and dropping the rest back into the cup before resealing it. Din guides them back towards the carnivorous exhibit again with a gentle hand on Luke’s back. Luke comfortably falls in step beside him, eyes taking in the serene beauty of the passing flowerbeds. 

Unfortunately, Din seems to tense with each step they take; after several minutes of silence, Luke is taking a sip when Din exhales heavily, the sound distorted and crackling through his modulator. Luke startles and coughs, laughing, and glances at Din. 

“Are you alright, Din?”

“No, I’m.” He stops abruptly, hand wrapping around Luke’s elbow and pulling him off to the edge of the path. “I’m not. Good at this.”

Luke furrows his brows at Din and looks around; they’re alone on the path, but Luke still pushes a strong suggestion to the Force for anyone who may happen to come by to ignore them. “Good at what, Din?” He presses gently, not following Din’s train of thought.

“I need to say -” Din cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh and tilts his visor to the side, his shoulders rising in a formidable breath that prompts Luke to quirk an eyebrow at him, then looks back at Luke. “I don’t decline because I don’t want to. It is my Creed. Do you understand?”

Luke thinks for a moment, eyes searching Din’s visor and helmet. Din’s quiet refusal of the gummy candy, the peach slice - he had asked Luke to keep his eyes closed in the break room, and said he wouldn’t always be able to - 

It clicks.

“Your helmet, you can’t take it off,” Luke states. Din nods, the motion simultaneously stiff and saddened.

“If that is -” Luke stops him with a soft hand on his bicep.

“It isn’t,” Luke says, tone final. He begins to see their conversation in the break room in a new light, the weight of Din’s trust liberating in its gravitas. “I understand fully, now. I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

Din’s hand immediately clutches at Luke’s on his arm, almost desperate, and Luke can feel gratitude and relief flood the Force. “I don’t like to refuse you.”

“Then I won’t give you an opportunity to have to,” Luke answers softly. Din squeezes his hand again with clear appreciation, and Luke smiles at him. He may never see Din’s face, but he is learning to read him in his gestures and silent affection. That beskar helmet is becoming surprisingly expressive to Luke.

Luke is already aware enough to know he won’t want to trade this for anything - trade Din for anything - and understands that whatever comes from their relationship will require a significant amount of meditation. The Council is more lenient now, but as his uncle warned him that morning, they will have questions and concerns about Luke’s dividing commitments.

Luke expects it and is ready for them. He is a Skywalker, and so undeniably like his father - he’s absolutely ready.

He tilts his chin up and rises onto the toes of his boots to press his lips gently to Din’s forehead. “Thank you, Din.” There is so much packed into those simple words, Luke knows he doesn’t need to explain further. “Now, take me to those plants that can kill us, please.”

Din chuckles, the sound warming, and guides Luke back to the stone path; this time, Luke doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand into Din’s the moment they’re walking.

The sun is lower in the sky but still not quite dark enough for the candlewick flowers and gorsa trees to bloom; Luke glances around them with poorly restrained excitement, almost more interested in the night blooming flowers than the rose meadow or deadly plant exhibit they’re just outside of. The trees aren’t much taller than Din, but their trunks are stout and easily a few feet across; Luke can just make out the vines of the candlewick flowers climbing the trunks and draping from branches as they pass, tightly bunched orange and gold bulbs dotting the dark brown bark.

Before entering the carnivorous exhibit, Luke finishes his drink with a few obnoxious slurps through the straw and tosses the cup into a recycling container - then immediately groans. Din hums beside him.

“Forgot the peach,” he mumbles dejectedly; Din huffs a laugh at him through his modulator. 

“Perhaps another time,” he says, and Luke shrugs. 

“I suppose,” Luke answers with a sigh. Din glances at him for a moment before guiding them into the exhibit.

The inside of the exhibit is incredible - there are several transparisteel displays of large plants, some sliding long vines around their displays and others swaying or twisting in the air. Luke steps up to the glass of a meat flower, a large domed plant with a deceptive bright pink flower on display, likely to lure in prey. It’s surrounded by what looks like a small swamp that is confirmed when Luke reads the display card nearby.

“Native to Dagobah. This one could eat a fully grown human,” he comments, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes. “Luckily it stops when it’s full. Do you think it would be content with just a leg or an arm?”

Din stands beside him and tilts his helmet. “This one looks like it would want both.”

Luke laughs despite the hunger he feels touching him in the Force from the plant; it turns its pink flower towards the glass in an attempt to entice. “I think you’re right.”

Luke flits between display after display, reading placards about thirstgrass, a sharp-bladed grass that sustains itself from the blood of small cuts it causes to creatures that walk through it, and siren plants, native to Kashyyyk, that are incredibly dangerous. Luke stares up at the tall, loftily swaying plant, and wonders if Chewbacca ever had to deal with one in the wild. 

“It’s beautiful,” Luke murmurs, staring up at the mercurial white petals that tower several feet over him.

“Intentionally,” Din agrees. “Card says it starts digestion immediately after injecting a numbing acid into its victims.”

Luke hums. “How?”

Din pauses to read. “Hollow teeth.”

Luke taps his chin. “I can take it.”

“What?”

“Hypothetical fight,” Luke begins, hands up placatingly. “I can win.”

“Before or after the kill strike?”

“Before, of course,” Luke confirms, watching the deceptively lazy petals. “I’m faster.”

Din turns fully towards him; Luke imagines if he could see his face, he would be wearing an extremely dubious expression. “It’s twice your height.” His tone confirms it. “With snake-like reflexes.”

Luke grins mischievously at Din. “This thing has nothing on Jedi younglings, I assure you.”

Din stares at Luke for a beat, two, before snorting a laugh so loud and unattractive Luke definitely feels his knees weaken and his heart flutters with affection; he wraps a hand around the rail in front of him and subtly leans into it.

“Unbelievable,” Din says after he recovers, shaking his head and clapping a hand onto Luke’s shoulder to steer him further into the exhibit. Luke snickers but relents to Din easily.

It takes all of five seconds before Luke wanders over to a darkened part of the exhibit, walled off with tinted transparisteel similar to Din’s visor and sealed off with a door. Luke hums, intrigued, as he reads. “This is a limited exhibit and extremely dangerous. No unattended children allowed.”

“Good thing you’re with me, then,” Din says, breezing by Luke to activate the motion door; Luke stares after him, mouth slightly agape and a flush dusting his cheeks. Din’s teasing shouldn’t fluster him so much, they’ve been playfully teasing since they arrived and most of the day, but Luke still feels breathless. He follows after Din and the door slides shut behind him, plunging the room into relative darkness.

Once Luke’s eyes adjust, he sees a soft glow along the floor marking the path; vivid green light reflects off of clear transparisteel and Din’s armor that briefly reminds Luke of his lightsaber. Din places a hand on the small of Luke’s back as they walk, and although Luke isn’t worried about being separated, something in the darkened room isn’t quite right.

“There’s something sinister here,” Luke whispers, and Din’s hand on him tenses. He doesn’t have to see him to know Din is reaching towards one of his blasters. He lightly touches the back of his knuckles against Din’s chest plate to sooth him. “Not a sentient, just these plants. They’re...intense.”

Din relaxes minutely, his hand sliding protectively from Luke’s back around to the side of his hip and pulling him against his flank. “Ominous carnivores in the dark,” he deadpans. “Sounds fantastic.”

Luke can’t help but snicker, pleased with their new closeness. “Makes for an interesting story.”

A slither echoes in the room, and Luke pauses. He starts to walk towards the sound only to be pulled tightly back to Din’s side. When he turns to him, the low light shows Din facing forward. “It’s right there. Go with me.”

Luke swallows; the darkened room is cooler than the temperature of the rest of the exhibit, and Din is incredibly warm against him. Luke nods and curls closer into Din’s side, walking with him until Din takes Luke’s gloved hand and places it on a railing barely illuminated by the green floor light.

Luke looks forward again, Din standing exceptionally close behind him, and blinks as his eyes adjust. He stares into the darkness and begins to see movement; long, thick vines with massive thorns slide along the stone on the other side of the transparisteel, repeating the same slither from before. Luke leans forward, trying to get a better look, when a sharp movement catches his attention just out of the corner of his eye. He blinks and catches a large green leaf opening wide, rows of sharp teeth on display, right before it slams into the transparisteel level with Luke’s face.

Luke flinches back with a startled laugh, incredibly delighted, and adrenaline floods his veins. When the plant strikes again a second later, Luke is better prepared, but the sound is so jarring he takes a half step back - directly into Din’s chest. Din wraps his arm around Luke’s waist and pulls him flat to his chest plate. The plant strikes a third time, and Din’s arm flexes and tightens around him; Luke swallows, leaning most of his weight back against Din in turn. 

It’s such a quiet display of strength and protection that Luke’s breath hitches and his pulse spikes with something other than adrenaline. He’s suddenly grateful for the distraction the savage plant intent on taking his head off provides.

“Are you instigating a fight?” Din says, his voice so close to Luke’s ear that he’s helpless against the shiver that runs down his spine; Din’s tightening arm tells Luke he didn’t miss it, either.

“No,” Luke denies; the plant strikes at him for a fourth time, transparisteel rattling against its metal frame.

“Looks like it disagrees,” Din whispers, turning his helmet into Luke’s jaw and neck. The cool beskar is refreshing against Luke’s rapidly heating skin, and he tilts his chin to allow more room for Din.

The plant thuds against the barrier again, but all Luke can hear is his own racing pulse as Din nuzzles his helmet against Luke’s neck. When his other arm comes around Luke’s waist, Luke drops his trembling hands from the railing to rest over Din’s vambraces across his abdomen. Din tightens his arms further, and Luke lets out a shaky exhale. 

Frustration simmers in the Force from the vicious plant still attempting to devour Luke through the transparisteel, not understanding why it can’t seem to get at him no matter how hard it tries. Luke carefully urges it to move away with the Force to prevent any more damage to it, leaning his temple against the side of Din’s helmet.

“Did you do something?” Din asks when the plant finally stops, its frustration forgotten. Slithering thorns echo around the room as it moves further away from the display and deeper into darkness. Luke hums and closes his eyes, the sound almost deafening in the abrupt silence.

“Just suggested it move away,” he says, almost slurs - Din still has his strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him snug to his chest, and Luke feels nearly drunk. He could just stay there forever. “It may get hurt if it keeps that up.”

“Any idea why it reacted to you like that?” There’s an edge of concern to his voice that makes Luke smile.

“Probably doesn’t care for Jedi, some plants are sensitive like that,” he answers. “Or I look like an easy target.”

Din chuckles, the sound climbing up Luke’s chest and vibrating along his neck where Din is pressed to him.  “Definitely tempting.”

Luke shivers and Din hums at him, stepping back when the entrance for the exhibit opens behind them and putting a few steps of space between them. Luke reluctantly leans against the railing again and narrows his eyes at Din, willing his racing pulse to calm. “That was terrible.”

Din’s helmet is insufferable. “Whatever you say, Jedi.”

Luke rolls his eyes and fights a smile before heading to the exit of the display, hearing the plant slither over to the new visitors in the room, likely attracted to their noise. A child lets out a startled yell when the plant slams into the display. Right as they’re about to step back out into the exhibit, Luke catches a placard for the plant and groans.

“Reeksa - I should have known,” Luke mumbles. “Those things are incredibly unpleasant. I wonder how they managed to get one from Iego.”

Din triggers the motion door of the exit and waves for Luke to go first. “Carefully, I assume.”

Luke laughs. “No doubt.” He looks up at the sky once they’re back in the main exhibit and can see stars twinkling in a light purple sky. “Din, let’s go back to the gorsa trees. They should be blooming soon.”

Din nods and Luke leads them back the way they came, exiting from the opposite entrance. There are quite a few benches scattered just outside of the exhibit, but Luke takes a quick look around before hauling himself over the waist-high fencing and wandering further into the trees. He pauses and waits for Din to catch up to him before continuing.

Satisfied with a small clearing that would be just big enough for them to sit in and completely obscured from the path, Luke settles down with his legs crossed. Din pauses beside him, and Lukes smiles up at him before patting the grass next to him. 

“I should have known you’re a delinquent,” Din says as he sits on the soft grass, startling a laugh from Luke. 

“Well, you did just accuse me of picking a fight with a man-eating plant,” Luke answers as he glances over at Din. “Are you really surprised?”

Din meets his eyes with a tilt of his helmet. “Not even a little.”

Luke hides his wide grin behind his gloved hand on the way up to running through his hair. He can still feel the ghost of Din’s arms around him and wants to feel him again; Luke shifts closer, eyes looking down at where Din’s palm is flat on the grass. Surely he could convince Din to spread his arms out a bit.  

“You said these will only bloom at night?” Din asks after a moment, folding his hands in his lap. Luke frowns down at his chronometer, biting back his disappointment. 

“Yes, really any minute now.” He looks back at Din - he could just ask, right? They’re dating, Luke can just ask for this type of thing now. “Could you, uh - would you mind -”

Din makes a questioning sound at him, and Luke swallows. It was much easier in the dark of the reeksa room.

“Can I lean against you?” Luke finishes lamely, face on fire, and breathes heavily out his nose in frustration at himself. Din watches him for a moment before he nods.

“You never have to ask,” he says easily, kicking his legs out in front of him and bracing himself back on his elbows. Luke swallows and nods. 

“It’s nice,” he begins, shuffling around until he can comfortably rest his head against Din’s pauldron, stretching his legs out alongside Din. “To be able to ask.”

He feels Din nod, his chest rising on a soft exhale. “Yes, it is.”

Luke settles carefully before relaxing, blinking his eyes up to the top of the Skydome. The stars are out and bright, winking through the dome, and Luke lets out a content sigh. “This was a great idea, Din. I’ve had a good time here, with you.”

The edge of Din’s helmet presses against Luke’s temple. “So have I.”

Luke smiles softly, his heart hammering, and catches a light whiff of floral perfume. He sits up slightly to see the heavy bulbs on the gorsa trees begin to bloom, and nudges Din to look while he settles back down. “They’re starting.”

Luke watches the bulbs expand and unfurl to release pale orange petals, wide and luminous, shimmering against the dark leaves of the tree. It’s a beautifully synchronized effort as other trees do the same, and soon there is a low orange glow all around them. The candlewick flowers, having climbed and weaved around the trunk of the gorsa trees as they grew, glitter in matching orange and gold light, flickering like the flame of a candle. 

Luke gasps with delight when a small stalk near the heel of his boot turns slowly towards the sky and begins to glow bright indigo. “This is a lovely surprise,” he says, placing a hand on Din’s chest to press himself up to watch more little stalks do the same.

“What are they?” Din asks, voice low.

“Aura blossoms,” Luke answers. “The board didn’t say anything about these. They’re from the forest moon of Endor, and incredibly difficult to transplant.”

Din’s hand covers Luke’s on his chest as he hums. “They’re bright.” He looks around. “These all are. Are they glowing?”

Luke turns back to him and settles back against his shoulder with a nod. He keeps his hand on Din’s chest plate. “They are. All of these are luminescent.” Luke looks down at Din’s armor, glittering with indigo, orange, and gold light, reflecting the stars. “Perfect for a clear night like tonight.”

“Orange and gold, and what else?” He asks quietly.

“Indigo,” Luke offers. He looks up at Din. “Does your visor distort color?”

“They’re there, but dulled, grey,” Din answers. “But not the glow.”

Luke smiles. “These are some of the brightest luminescence in the galaxy. I’ve flown over a field of gorsa trees and could still see the orange from the planet’s stratosphere.” A little flickering of bright green light catches Luke’s eye. “They also attract fireflies.”

Soon enough, the entire little clearing is full of winking green fireflies, and Luke can’t contain his smile. He hasn’t experienced anything like this since he left Naboo years ago and moved to Coruscant permanently. He feels a sharp wave of affection for Din for giving this to him, and tilts his chin up to press a kiss just above the edge of his helmet.

“I cannot thank you enough for this, Din,” he murmurs, leaning completely back on the grass to smile up at him. “This is wonderful.”

Din tilts his helmet down towards Luke and presses their foreheads together, gloved fingertips tracing along the line of Luke’s jaw. “I’m glad.”

Fireflies wink in the night around them, some reflecting off of Din’s visor, and Luke smiles, watching the little insects flicker and float, almost ethereal in the luminescent flowers. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, content. 

The flowers brighten as the sky continues to darken above them, and Luke still can’t believe he’s there with Din, and doesn’t want it to end. They sit in companionable silence, Din laying down beside Luke and gently lacing their fingers together, watching the fireflies twinkle in campfire light. A soft, prerecorded voice echoes over the Skydome intercoms, announcing that the gardens will be closing shortly; Luke checks his chronometer - 19:20 - and sits up with a sigh, pulling away from Din to run a hand through his hair. “I suppose it’s time to go, then.”

Din huffs a laugh at him and stands before offering his hand down to help Luke up. “We can come back, if you’d like.”

Luke takes Din’s hand and stands, smiling softly. “I would like that.”

“We will, then.”

Luke leads Din back through the trees to where they came from, carefully checking for any guards before jumping over the fence again; Din follows with a shake of his head. Luke laughs at him when he’s standing next to him, brushing a hand over his chest plate to remove stray bits of grass. Din returns the favor, brushing stray grass from Luke’s hair that he missed earlier.

“What?” Luke asks, looping his arm through Din’s and starting them towards the entrance, taking the path that cuts through the rose meadow. 

“Just interesting to see a Jedi sneak around,” Din comments. “You seem like you’re comfortable bending rules.”

Luke offers a self-deprecating grin and shrugs. “I may have been a unique Padawan to train.”

Din laughs softly. “I’m sure.” His hand drops to Luke’s arm where it’s threaded through his, palm warm through his glove. Luke sighs and presses closer to him, the Force amplifying his content.

They walk in comfortable silence as they get closer to the entrance, the path deserted; Luke can’t see all the different shades of roses lining the path in the low light, but he remembers reading that the malreaux rose was there, somewhere, and makes a note to try to order some from his mother. He thinks Din will enjoy how deep red, almost black, they are, and Luke can build a wonderful arrangement around them for his son.

Din breaks the silence to call for Tarl to meet them right before they step back out into Galactic City, only for the man to say he’s already there. His speeder is easy to spot - it’s the only one still outside of the gardens.

Din steadies Luke’s step onto the speeder like he did earlier, and Luke’s heart still flutters at the gesture. 

“I see ya di’n’t git ate, Mando!” Tarl chuckles, tipping his hat at Luke as he settles. 

“Better luck next time,” Din comments dryly, helmet glancing at Luke as he climbs in beside him and sparking a laugh from Tarl. Luke rolls his eyes with a grin.

“Where to, then?”

“The Jedi Temple.”

“Aye!”

Din lays his arm along the back of the seat the moment he sits down, and Luke smiles.

The ride is quiet but no less full of traffic, despite the time. It doesn’t take long to arrive at the entrance of the temple, close to where Luke and R2 walk into Galactic City each day, and Din steps out to help Luke down from the speeder again. He keeps Luke’s hand in his and rubs his thumb along the soft skin on the back of Luke’s hand, lingering.

“I assume there’s no reeksa between here and the entrance I should be concerned about,” Din teases, and Luke laughs.

“No, I think I can manage,” Luke answers, his grin widening. He bites his bottom lip and lowers his voice. “Thank you again, Din. I had a wonderful time. And, honestly - I don’t want it to end.”

Din nods, the action jerky. “I - understand the feeling.” He squeezes Luke’s hand and covers it with his other palm, sending warmth tingling up Luke’s arm. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“Anytime,” Luke breathes. “You can see me anytime.”

Din nods again, this time the motion smoother, and carefully brushes Luke’s bangs back from his eyes before dropping his hand to the side of Luke’s neck. He brushes over the mark Luke knows is still there behind his ear; Luke wonders how much it’s faded over the day, but there’s still a delightful sting when Din presses lightly. He strokes the mark again as his hand moves to the back of Luke’s neck, tugging him gently forward, and Luke goes with no resistance.

Luke presses his forehead to Din’s and sighs, heart hammering but content, cool beskar warming against his skin. Din presses firmly and holds his neck tighter, like he doesn’t want Luke to go, before he says, “Sleep well, Luke.”

“You too, Din,” Luke whispers. “Good night.”

Din nods and takes a step back, hand still on Luke’s neck, tracing along his jaw and ending with his thumb in the cleft of Luke’s chin. “Tomorrow.”

Luke can only swallow and nod. Din takes another step back, then another, then he turns to climb into the speeder. Tarl waves at Luke as he pulls away, and Luke waves back absently, his eyes locked on Din. He watches until Tarl disappears into traffic and wraps his robes tighter around himself, suddenly chilled without Din’s warmth, before walking along the path to the temple entrance.

R2 is still alert and waiting for him when he gets to his rooms, and Luke smiles softly at him. “Hi Artoo, how was your day?”

R2 proceeds to complain about all the work Ahsoka put him through and how he desperately wants to go back to the shop, but it was nice to spend more time with the younglings.

Luke chuckles, folding his robes over the back of a chair. A few blades of grass fall to the floor. “Don’t worry, you’re with me tomorrow, pal. I missed you.”

R2 chirps sweetly and says he missed Luke, too - but how was his day? Did he see the Mandalorian?

Luke’s face flushes as he looks down at his hands resting over his robes and the grass by his boots; he thinks of strong arms, shy stammering, wry quips, fireflies shining over beskar - his hands tremble as his heart races and tears begin to prickle in his eyes. “I did. My day was - indescribable.”

R2 quiets, then tentatively beeps with concern.

Luke rapidly blinks away his tears and smiles brightly. “No, Artoo - I’m, I’ve actually never been better.”

R2 wheels over and bumps against Luke’s thigh, prompting Luke to drop a hand to pat his dome, and chirps that he’s glad to see him so happy.

“Thank you, Artoo. Me, too.”

Chapter Text

“Artoo - can you lock the door early and clean up the floor, please? I need to finish this last arrangement; I’ll be in cold storage,” Luke says, scooping up several bundles of jade and Tarisian roses and nova lilies into his arms and crossing the floor. He hardly waits for R2’s beeps of affirmation before he’s ducking into cold storage, grateful that he’s kept his robes on throughout the day to ward off the chill.

He’s back there for several minutes, humming to himself as he trims and tucks the stems into a fine glass vase, when the sliding door opens. “Artoo, can you bring me the purple ribbon from under the counter; I’m out back here,” he says, distracted. “Please and thank you.”

R2 beeps that he is awfully needy today as the door closes behind him; Luke tilts his head from side to side, alternating the cloudy jade petals with pink Tarisian, plucking a few white nova lilies to add and break up the color. When the door slides open again, Luke holds his right hand out by his waist, palm up.

Once the spool is in his hand, he nods, eyes still on the flowers. “Thank you, Artoo, could you grab a few more lilies for me? Last thing, I promise.” R2 leaves without a beep - which is certainly out of character, R2 never fails to miss an opportunity to give Luke shit - the door sliding shut behind him.

Luke unravels several feet of ribbon and cuts it, tying it off loosely around the neck of the vase. He’ll finish fashioning a bow once he has the lilies and can complete the arrangement.

The door slides open again and Luke repeats the action - right hand out, waist high, palm up - waiting for the soft weight of the flowers. Something in the Force presses on him, like a friend tapping on his shoulder, but he’s too distracted to give it any attention. “Hey, so - I know I said ‘last thing’ on the last thing, but this really is the last thing. Can you let me know if -”

“If this is how it always feels -” Luke startles, a smile already breaking out on his face as he spins on his toes. “- I understand why the droid sent me in.”

Din is there, beskar polished and gleaming in the bright white light of cold storage, and Luke’s breath is stolen even as his smile widens. “Whatever he’s been telling you, it isn’t true.”

Din holds up the bunch of nova lilies he has in his hand, tilting his helmet towards the flowers in thought. “Hmm, you don’t need these?”

Luke huffs a laugh and reaches his hand out for the flowers. “I suppose not everything, then. I do need those.”

Din stands there, posture relaxed - beautiful, bright white lilies contrasting against the silver of beskar in one hand, and the other resting on his hip - and Luke is more than a little weak in the knees. Din has to know how effortlessly handsome he is.

Din passes over the flowers, intentionally brushing their gloves together, and steps over to lean against the work table beside Luke. Luke bites his bottom lip and quickly trims the stems and tucks a few more down into the vase. If he keeps his hands busy, he can fight the need to reach out.

“You don’t speak binary,” Luke says. “How did you know what I needed?”

“Well,” Din begins; Luke watches him tilt his helmet up from his periphery. “You asked.”

Luke stills, then looks at Din. “That was you?”

Din huffs a laugh. “Am I that forgettable?”

“Who are you, again?” Luke asks with faux incredulity. Din shrugs and taps against the edge of the table; Luke snickers. “You dropped off the ribbon?”

Din nods. Luke hums, tapping his chin. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

Luke purses his lips, thinking. “Well - the conversation we had, about the Force? My ability to - feel things, through it.” He pauses, feeling a slight flush start at the collar of his tunic. “I can feel you. When you’re near.”

Din’s tapping ceases. Luke hazards a glance at him to see that he’s got Din’s entire attention. It’s as intoxicating as ever. “What is that like?” He asks softly.

Luke puffs out a breath and clenches his hands together to stave off a beginning tremor. “It’s - wonderful, honestly. I feel joy, content, weightless - but then I may just vibrate out of my skin because it’s both on fire and shivering, and my blood simmers - but it’s with warmth and acceptance; like a ship could crash right here, and that would be fine, because you’re here.” He swallows and smiles slowly, tremulously, before continuing: “You make me feel like I’m home.”

Din lays his palm flat on the table and his shoulders raise in a sharp inhale as he straightens to his full height. When the silence stretches, Luke blinks and winces. “Too much?”

“Not enough,” Din breathes. Then he’s on Luke, urgently grabbing his hands and placing them on his helmet, running gloved fingers through Luke’s hair to push it away from his forehead before pressing them together. The press of their foreheads is firm, almost desperate; Luke’s eyes slide close, enjoying Din’s hand still in his hair and sliding around to the back of his head. He hums when Din’s hand drops to the nape of his neck and squeezes, his heart clenching in time with the motion.

“It’s hardly been a month,” Din murmurs. His voice is rough in a way that Luke hasn’t heard yet, and it makes his lips part on a shaky exhale. “Yet I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

Luke swallows, his breath stolen - he leans further into Din. “I know the feeling.”

“The Force?”

“It could be; it draws me towards you like nothing - no one - ever before,” Luke answers quietly. He had been worried Din may be put off by the intensity of his feelings for him, but it seems quite the opposite. 

“Is that what you want?” Din asks, and Luke immediately understands what Din is asking - is this you, or the Force?

“More than anything, Din,” he whispers. “I - adore this feeling, I - I don’t want to lose you.”

That’s not even the whole truth - Luke more than adores the feeling. He craves how Din makes him feel, almost to the point where he needs it, now, and doesn’t want to be away from Din for a moment. Oh Force, the Council is going to enjoy grilling him on his priorities over all this, and Luke knows he needs guidance. It may be time to speak to his father, after all.

“Cyar’ika,” Din gasps, tone reverent and choked. Luke tilts his chin to press his lips to the slope of beskar by his palm; Din desperately clenches the fingers still covering Luke’s hand on his helmet. 

They stay there for a moment, amongst the cold and flowers and half-finished arrangement, Luke’s fogged breath floating between them. He notices that Din’s breathing is synced to his, and it makes warmth course through him. Luke hums and slides his hands over Din’s shoulders to prop his elbows there, linking his fingers and cupping the back of Din’s helmet in the palms of his hands. “So I think I was so distracted thinking about when you would come by, I missed it when you actually did.”

Din chuckles and wraps a hand around Luke’s bicep, the other still on his neck and thumb rubbing lazy circles into his skin. “Good thing your droid didn’t lock me out.”

“Yes, good thing.” Luke presses another kiss to beskar and pats the back of Din’s helmet. “Help me finish this?”

Din nods and untangles himself from Luke’s arms. “What do you need?”

Luke casts a critical eye over the vase and rotates it, running a hand through his hair. “Just the ribbon, I think, then I can see if I want more of something in there.” He smiles at Din. “Come stand behind me.”

He does, and Luke holds his hands and tugs him forward until he can feel beskar all along his back. “Ever tied a ribbon bow before, Mando?” Luke asks casually.

Din huffs a laugh behind him. “I’ve tied things,” he answers vaguely. Luke grins as he wraps his palms around the back of Din’s hands and guides his fingers to pluck the ends of the ribbon.

Luke has held hands with Din, has had his palms wrapped around his wrists and his arms, his shoulders, his waist, his neck - and he knows that Din’s palms are warm and wider than his, his fingers thicker and calloused. He knows this because he’s felt them, but Luke cannot help the shiver down his spine and the slight tremor of his fingers as he guides Din’s inexperienced hands through the simple motions of tying a bow. It takes twice as long as it normally would had he done it on his own, but Luke enjoys the closeness and doesn’t begrudge the loss of time.

There is no such thing as lost time with Din there. 

Luke thinks of when he taught the younglings how to make flower crowns with the sweet little gremlin Grogu in his lap, and wonders how flowers would look tucked into Din’s armor.

“There we go,” Luke says once they’re done. The tails of the bow are a little uneven, but he’ll fix that with the vibroblade later. He tilts his head, resting his temple against the side of Din’s helmet. Din’s hands fall to his waist. “I think this is beautiful.” He turns in Din’s loose grip and offers a thumbs up. “Great job!”

Din chuckles. “Whatever you say.”

Luke grins at him. “Astute of you to listen to a Master Jedi’s council.”

Luke can feel Din roll his eyes. “I will when I meet one.”

Luke squawks at him and slaps an open palm against his pauldron in retaliation, sparking another laugh from Din. “I’ll have you know, I’m the youngest Jedi Master in several generations - I’ve turned down a seat on the Council twice now.”

“I thought Jedi aren’t meant to be prideful,” Din continues, catching Luke’s flailing hand and pressing his knuckles to his helmet. It reminds Luke of when he felt Din’s lips there, before, and feels a flush creep up his neck.

When Din’s words sink in, Luke scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Prideful - you’ve obviously not been around the temple enough.” He thinks of Obi-Wan’s pride in him and Leia and Anakin, and Ahsoka’s pride in her headdress, her friends, and overcoming her past. His in R2, his family, his flowers, and - “We each have our own vices, some more visible than others. I mean, have you seen my boots?” He adds with a grin.

“Is that rhetorical?” Din deadpans, and Luke laughs.

“Absolutely not.”

“Can’t miss them, cyar’ika,” Din rumbles. “They’re - attractive.”

Luke hums, his smile softening, and pulls his hand from Din’s to tilt his helmet down with a thumb on the edge. His heart pounds as he presses their foreheads together again, and Luke knows his heart will never tire of the thrill of being able to be close to Din. “Good answer.”

Din’s soft chuckles filter through the modulator and into the air around them, warming Luke. His grin grows in response just as the sliding door to cold storage opens and R2 wheels in, fussing about what on all of Coruscant could be taking them so long?

R2 must still be fresh off his embarrassment for the sprinklers because he immediately rolls backwards and right back out of the room once his lens settles on Luke and Din - or, mostly Din’s back and a sliver of Luke. He whistles his apologies and tears out of the room as abruptly as he entered.

Luke snickers and rolls his eyes, a twinge of embarrassment curling in him. Poor R2 has had to endure him in a compromised position twice now in almost as many days, and Luke feels bad for his little droid. He pats the side of Din’s helmet and leans back. “I suppose it isn’t fair of me to leave him alone like that.”

Din nods and steps back, letting Luke free of the table. He smiles his thanks and quickly tosses the stem and leaf trimmings into a compost chute and straightens the tools on the table. The vase will be fine where it is until the morning. Luke jerks his chin towards the door and then leads Din from the room, waving the lights off as he goes.

R2 is wheeling in tight circles on the main floor of the shop in front of the counter, and immediately freezes when Luke and Din walk into the room. There’s a strange, awkward beat that Luke is still trying to understand when R2 starts apologizing profusely.

Luke laughs, holding his hands out placatingly. “It’s okay, Artoo - you have nothing to apologize for.”

R2 whistles that he really should have known they would be doing something in there when the Mandalorian didn’t immediately come back after dropping off the flowers; he starts cursing himself for walking in on their private moment while they were kissing -  

Luke furrows his brows, a flush building, and crosses the room to drop his hand to R2’s swiveling dome. “What - Artoo, no, we weren’t, ah - that wasn’t what that was.”

R2 immediately shifts gears and tells Luke he knows Luke isn’t an idiot, however much he may want people to think he is, surely he knows what being kissed looks like?

Luke just - blinks at him. “I don’t understand.”

Just as R2 whirs himself up to, presumably, really lay into Luke, Din says, “What is it saying?”

“He’s just apologizing,” Luke says slowly, unsure how to explain that R2 may be experiencing the droid equivalent of a mental breakdown. 

“That’s a lot of dramatics for an apology,” Din murmurs, and Luke just shrugs.

“He’s family.”

R2 rolls forward and slams into Luke’s knees in retaliation, making him yelp - family, indeed.

Din’s hand is on Luke’s shoulder half a second later, pulling Luke back as he stands in front of him, his other hand falling to his blaster. Luke startles and R2 shrieks, rolling back. Luke quickly places his hand over Din’s on his blaster and squeezes before he can pull it from the holster. Din tenses.

“He’s family,” he stresses again, worried by Din’s reaction. He knows R2 has made Din uncomfortable in the past, but the reason why he isn’t sure. He had assumed it was because R2 greeted him in the shop when he was expecting Luke to; something about this makes Luke think otherwise.

When Din keeps his blaster down and doesn’t fight Luke, Luke pushes comfort out into the Force, wondering if Din will pick up on it. His posture eases, and Luke counts it as a win.

He carefully steps around Din and kneels in front of R2, who is clearly quaking. “Artoo, pal - it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize, and I’m sorry.” He places a gentle hand on R2’s dome, rubbing his thumb over a scuff that’s been there since he was a child. It comforts R2, the shaking subsiding. “You’re safe. I’m not upset, Din isn’t upset - I promise.”

He feels discomfort roll off Din in waves into the Force, and he wonders if Din will voice his disagreement. When he doesn’t, Luke shelves it for now and smiles softly at R2. “Why don’t we go to the Droid Spa? You’re overdue for an oil bath and polish.”

R2 beeps his cheers eagerly and rocks in place, transgression forgotten, making Luke laugh. He turns to look over his shoulder at Din. “Would you like to come?”

Din shifts his weight, clearly still uncomfortable. “You want me to?”

Luke’s smile dims in confusion. “Yes - why wouldn’t I?”

“I planned to shoot it,” Din says bluntly. Luke stands, using his hand on R2’s dome for support and to try to comfort the droid’s sad trilling.

“A misunderstanding,” Luke answers calmly. “I trust you not to shoot my family.”

Din tilts his helmet away, then nods tightly. “Of course.”

Luke smiles carefully at him - he will have to ask later and ensure that R2 doesn’t have to worry about his safety again - but lets it go for now. He turns back to R2. “Let’s turn off the lights and head down, then.” When R2 beeps and rolls off to the break room, Luke looks back at Din - who still isn’t looking at him.

“The Droid Spa is in the lower markets,” he offers, moving to stand in front of him. He folds his hands into the sleeves of his robes as the lights shut down around them, the floor illuminated by the light filtering through the sliding glass doors. “It won’t take us but a half hour to get there, at most.”

Din hesitates, then nods as R2 comes back out from the break room. R2 checks that Luke has his lightsaber - he almost left it once, years ago (the day he left Din his private comlink notwithstanding), and now gets a daily reminder - before they head out. 

R2 rolls ahead of them, obviously excited, leading them towards one of the platforms used to navigate the different levels of the city. Luke walks beside Din, humming, and wants to reach out to him. He’s still tense and his visor won’t meet Luke’s eyes, but Luke doesn’t want to push him. He occupies his mind with glancing over the stalls as they walk.

Once they arrive at the Spa, Luke starts to hand over credits to R2 so he doesn’t have to go in with him and leave Din, but Din places a hand on Luke’s before he can finish opening the pouch on his belt. He holds his hand out awkwardly, credits in his palm, towards R2.

“An apology,” he says gruffly, and Luke’s heart warms. 

R2 reaches out his little grapple claw and takes the credits, beeping his thanks at Din. He passes along a message for Luke to deliver, then spins around and disappears into the Spa. Luke chuckles and shakes his head fondly.

“He’s always so excited to go there,” Luke muses. He looks at Din and smiles. “He wanted me to tell you thank you, and no hard feelings. He’s defended me over less in the past.”

Din relaxes, obviously relieved, and Luke’s smile widens. “Come on, there’s an outdoor café around here we can sit at while we wait.”

Din nods and follows behind Luke as he leads him across the path to a corner café, just out of sight of the Droid Spa’s entrance. Din claims a small table off to the side for them while Luke stands in line for a vending machine. He orders a hot tea, not expecting much, and watches the machine work through the transparisteel. Once he’s back at the table with Din, he takes a sniff of the tea and is pleasantly surprised - it’s floral and indulgent.

“Well, this may not be as awful as I expect,” he murmurs, blowing off some steam, before taking a small sip. He immediately grimaces. “Never mind.”

Din chuckles softly at him while he heads back to the side of the vending machine to grab something to make the tea drinkable. He adds cremé and sugar once he’s sitting again, using the Force to stir the liquid after realizing he didn’t grab anything to mix with. He takes another sip - that’s about as good as it’s going to get, he supposes.

Din watches him for a few more minutes before he speaks. “I apologize, Luke.”

Luke raises his shoulders in a gentle shrug, offering a kind smile. “I’ve already forgiven you, Din. You also apologized to Artoo, which is more important - we’re fine.” He looks down at his disposable cup. “It was - sweet, that you were quick to defend me, even from my own droid.”

Din clears his throat. “I always will.”

Luke’s smile gentles, his heart pounding. “I hope so.”

Silence falls over them again, still slightly awkward, but Luke is content. He wants to ask what brought it all on, why Din reacted that way, but isn’t sure if this is the place to do it.

Din makes the decision for him.

“I should - tell you,” he begins. “Why.” Luke looks at him and provides him his full attention, not pressing when Din obviously needs to take time to gather his thoughts. His visor is facing out at the crowd, towards the Droid Spa.

“During the Clone Wars, droids took something - important - from me,” Din says, words weighted and halting. Luke leans closer; Din is barely speaking above a mutter, but even in the noise of the lower markets, his voice is clear and Luke hangs on every word. “I’ve hated them, I don’t trust them. But for you,” Din turns his visor towards Luke. “I will try.”

Luke softens, his smile sad. There is more to the story, but he will let Din tell him when he is ready. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“You are worth it,” Din assures. Luke places his hand, palm up, on the table between them. “Your droid is - helpful, and part of your clan.” He carefully places his hand over Luke’s and squeezes. “If it has your trust, it will earn mine.”

Luke’s smile widens and he ducks his head, turning his hand to thread his fingers through Din’s. “Thank you, Din,” he says, softly, and Din squeezes his fingers again in response.

An hour passes in companionable silence as Luke finishes his tea while they people-watch, trading incidental observations about the beings they see, hands still clasped together on top of the table. After they have been alone a little over an hour, R2 buzzes over Luke’s comlink that he’s all done. Luke grins at Din and stands, reluctantly letting his hand go. “Wait until you see this - he’s endearing after a trip to the spa.”

Din stands with him and throws Luke’s disposable cup into a trash compactor. “Refreshed, I imagine.”

“And eager to make sure you notice.”

Din chuckles as they head back to meet R2, his hand on the small of Luke’s back. The touch warms him again, and reminds him of last evening at the Skydome.

R2 is standing off to the side and starts rocking in place when he sees Luke and Din coming over. He meets them halfway, his white and blue paint freshly touched up and gleaming. Luke takes time to polish R2 periodically, not wanting his vain little droid to feel embarrassed, but it really has been a while since Luke treated him to the spa. 

“You look great, Artoo!” Luke exclaims, smiling brightly as R2 spins in a tight circle, showing off all the buffed out scuffs and fresh polishing. He chirps that he feels like a million credits, and they even fixed that kinked wire Luke had been trying to locate for a while!

“I’m glad,” Luke chuckles. “You deserve it, Artoo, you work so hard, and you’re practically glowing! Wait until the next time we see Threepio, you can show off.”

R2 trills that he will absolutely be rubbing this in C-3PO’s face - blue looks better than gold and exposed wiring any day, and he’s always been the better looking out of the two of them, no contest. Luke slaps a hand over his mouth to smother his loud bark of laughter.

Din shifts beside him, drawing Luke’s attention. He’s looking at R2, polished and shiny and preening, and clears his throat. “They did a - good job. You look good.”

R2 beeps that they were working with a masterpiece to begin with, of course they would do a good job. Luke bites his bottom lip and giggles behind his gloved hand, somewhat disappointed that Din is missing this because he doesn’t understand binary. Din tilts his helmet at him. “What is... he, saying?”

Luke bites back his giggles and smiles, his stomach flipping at Din’s change in pronoun for R2. “He’s saying thank you, in his way - he’s preening and calling himself a masterpiece.”

R2 whistles that it’s true, he always has to look his best - he’s a member of the vainest family in the entire galaxy, after all. Luke rolls his eyes and flicks the front of R2’s dome, prompting trilling laughter from the droid. “I’m not repeating that.”

“Hmm?” Din asks, curious beside him. Luke’s face flames when R2 laughs again, daring him to tell Din how much time he spends each morning making sure that Din doesn’t see him in exactly the same tunic or uniform consecutively. Luke shushes him and pokes at the scuff below his lens.

“They never can get this out,” he deflects, nail catching on the blemish in the metal.

R2 beeps that he always tells them to leave it alone, he’s proud of it. Luke nods and pats him with affection.

“What caused it?” Din asks.

“He caught a blaster bolt in the war,” Luke says. “Protecting my father.”

R2 swivels his dome and professes he would do it again, too. Luke smiles indulgently at him. “I know you would, Artoo.”

Din is quiet beside him, then turns his visor back to R2. “You are brave.”

It’s R2's turn to be quiet - he’s a smart little thing, and likely taking in the full weight behind Din’s comment. He carefully rolls forward and bumps against Din’s beskar cuisse; Din tenses, looking at Luke in what can only be described as panic. 

Luke just smiles back at him, touched by R2’s display. After a moment, Din calms, understanding what R2 is trying to say to him, and drops a glove to the top of R2’s dome.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs through his modulator. “Artoo.”

R2 beeps pleasantly up at him, and Din’s shoulders relax.

Luke’s smile grows as his heart hammers, wanting to take a holopic to preserve the beginnings of the tentative bond between Din and R2.

Instead, he watches Din awkwardly pat R2’s dome as the droid chirps up at him, telling him about how he commanded his own squad of reprogrammed battle droids to break out captured Republic soldiers and Jedi from The Citadel on Lola Sayu. Din doesn’t understand any of it, but manages to nod in the right places.

Luke takes a deep breath and realizes - he is in love. 

Chapter Text

Luke - panics? A little? - at the realization, but hopefully doesn’t let it show on his face. Din walks them back to the Jedi Temple with his hand on the small of Luke’s back for most of the way. Before they turn the final corner that will bring them into view of the temple, Din drops his hand to Luke’s elbow and gently tugs him into a nearby alley. When Luke blinks at him, a question on his lips, Din presses their foreheads together lightly; Luke’s heart hammers as he thinks of how drawn he is to this man, how much he loves him, and he desperately hopes Din feels the same. He leans into the pressure.

“I’ll need to leave from here,” he murmurs, stroking the back of his fingers over Luke’s cheek. Luke swallows and nods against him.

“That’s fine,” Luke whispers back. He hears R2 beep around the corner - he must have continued on without them, not realizing Din kept Luke back - trilling both their names, confused, obviously looking for them. It likely won’t take him long to figure out where they went. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Din sighs through his modulator; the sound is sweet and full of promise. “Whenever you want.”

R2 skids around the corner of the alley before squealing and immediately wheeling backwards, nothing but a blue and white blur over Din’s shoulder. Luke snickers. “At this rate, I don’t know that I can afford to take him to the Droid Spa every time he catches us like this.”

Din chuckles, gloved fingers still warm on Luke’s skin. “I’ll cover you, Jedi.”

Luke huffs a laugh and presses his trembling hands to Din’s chest plate, fingers fidgeting with the leather strap across his chest. His smile is soft and unbelievably revealing, he knows, but hopefully Din is too close to tell. “That’s thoughtful of you, Din - half of it is your fault, anyway.”

He drops his hand from Luke’s cheek to cover Luke’s gloved hand on his chest and squeezes. “I’ll assume half, then.”

Luke grins and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.” He bites his lip before quietly asking: “Can I call you later?”

“Yes,” Din says, and Luke’s grin widens. He pulls back to look into the dark tint of Din’s t-visor and taps his gloved finger over where he parses Din’s nose to be.

“I’ll call you later, then.”

“I’m counting on it.” Din squeezes his hand again and steps back, walking them towards the mouth of the alley. R2 is just to the right of the entrance, dome swiveling quickly from side to side. It takes Luke a moment to realize the astromech has been keeping watch - his heart warms and he rolls his eyes fondly.

“Artoo,” he says, drawing the droid’s attention. He desperately beeps at Luke that they really ought to tell him the plan before they start it, next time, so he knows when to keep a lookout. Luke rolls his eyes again and gestures to Din. “Din is leaving. We wanted to -” Talk? ‘Have a moment?’ is too telling, but before Luke can finish his sentence, R2 does it for him.

R2 teasingly beeps exactly that at him, quite condescendingly, and Luke narrows his eyes in return. “Forget it.”

Din chuckles softly beside him. “I’ll talk to you later, Luke.” Luke looks back at him and smiles. R2 trills a farewell that Din acknowledges with a nod of his own. “You too, Artoo.”

With one last graze along the small of Luke’s back, Din turns and steps into the opposite flow of foot traffic. Luke watches him until he can’t see him anymore - all that shining beskar is surprisingly good at disappearing into a crowd. He tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robes and smiles down at R2. “Let’s get back to the temple, Artoo.”

R2 agrees and they quickly clear the corner to the temple walkway entrance together and then down the path, just as they had that morning to get to the shop, in companionable silence. As they get closer, Luke can see Ahsoka leaning against a pillar by the entrance. He starts to smile at her, opening his mouth to say hello, when she immediately presses a finger to her lips and shakes her head. Luke furrows his brows at her, but shushes R2 in turn when he tries to greet her as well. 

When they’re just a few feet away from her, she walks towards them and wraps a hand around Luke’s bicep, dragging him behind the pillar she had been leaning against. Bewildered, Luke stumbles behind her, R2 hot on his heels.

Ahsoka doesn’t stop until they’ve been walking for a few minutes, pulling Luke in a small alcove in the outer temple wall and shooing R2 into the far corner in front of them. She glances the direction they came from and once more over her shoulder before putting both of her hands on Luke’s shoulders. “Luke, where have you been all day?”

“The shop,” Luke answers slowly, not following along with Ahsoka’s urgency. “Then I took Artoo to the Droid Spa with -” he pauses, unsure if he can share Din’s name with Ahsoka. She seems to only know him as Mando.

“With Mando?” She finishes. He nods, and she sags in relief. 

“Good, I’m glad I wasn’t lying when I was covering for you.”

Luke frowns and furrows his brows at her. “Covering for me? Is something wrong?”

Ahsoka shakes her head flippantly. “Other than you not telling me about your date from last night? No.”

Luke scoffs and feels his face flame. “Pfassk, Ahsoka! You’re making me feel like something’s wrong, the way you’re dragging me around. What does covering for me have to do with anything?”

“Well, the Council also sent me to look for you,” Ahsoka continues and Luke immediately sobers. 

“Maybe lead with that next time.”

“Oh, it’s nothing bad. They have an assignment for you.”

Luke groans and runs both of his hands over his face and into his hair. “Shouldn’t you be saying ‘we’?” He points out; Ahsoka shrugs. “And I’m not going off-world, Ahsoka, I have a wedding coming up I need to prepare for -”

She flaps her hand at him, dismissing his protest. “I know that; it’s not off-world.” Ahsoka’s smile grows. “Don’t you have other reasons to not want to go off-world right now too, nephew?”

Luke groans again and buries his face in his hands. “You’re going to kill me before they do, I swear.”

Ahsoka laughs. “They wouldn’t dare; who’s going to take Grand Master Yoda’s chair when the time comes?”

“Not me,” Luke denies with a disbelieving laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve already said no twice, I won’t hesitate to say it again.”

“Relax, Little Skyguy,” she teases, flicking his nose. He scrunches his face up at her. “It’s a pretty simple assignment, all things considered. Should be done long before that Rodian wedding you were telling me about. Do you need help with that, by the way?”

Luke smiles at her. “That would be great. Mom called this morning to tell me the transport was on its way and should arrive in a few cycles.”

R2 beeps behind them, grumbling about how no one can see his fresh polishing from such a dark corner, and Ahsoka gasps. “You’re right Artoo, that wasn’t fair of me. Here, let’s go inside so you can show off.” The droid trills in excitement and almost bowls Luke over to get out of the alcove. Ahsoka snickers and places a hand on Luke’s shoulder to steady him.

“We’ll go to the Council first,” she says as they walk along the length of the temple behind R2, back towards the entrance. “Then we’re taking dinner to your room and you’re telling me everything.”

Luke rolls his eyes and wills his rising flush to die down. “There’s really nothing to tell.”

“You’re not a good liar, Little Skyguy,” Ahsoka counters fondly, smiling softly at him. “Your heart gives you away.”

Luke swallows and ducks his head, traitorous heart hammering. “I’m not projecting.”

Ahsoka nudges Luke’s shoulder with her own. “I know you’re not. I watched you grow up, Luke, you can’t lie to me.” Luke nudges her shoulder in return and smiles.

R2 beeps back at Ahsoka and asks where Obi-Wan is - he wants to make sure Kenobi sees him so word will be easier to pass to C-3PO. Luke sniggers into his hand. “He’s with the Council, Artoo - I’m sure they’ll let you in the room with us,” she answers him with a wry grin.

“It’ll be impossible to keep him out,” Luke adds, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robes. They enter the temple, R2 leading the way, and Luke waves back at everyone who acknowledges him. They take the lift to the top floor where the Council Room is, and once the door closes, Ahsoka fusses with the hood of Luke’s robe.

“This is fading quickly,” she murmurs. “But it’s still there, you need to cover it.”

Luke sighs but allows her to rearrange his hood. “Would it really be so bad if they saw it?”

Ahsoka’s eyes are sharp when they cut to his. “Yes. Do you want them getting in the way now, when this is so new? They may ask you to do something you don’t want to do.”

Luke clenches his hands on his forearms and presses his lips together. “Attachments aren’t prohibited,” he says, echoing what he had told Obi-Wan the previous morning.

“I know they aren’t, Little Skyguy,” Ahsoka says softly, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “But I don’t want your happiness to be risked before it even gets a chance.”

Luke leans into her hand and sighs. “Thank you, Auntie.”

Ahsoka’s smile is blinding. “You haven’t called me that since you were still a youngling trying to convince me to let you play with my lightsabers.”

“I like to maximize impact,” he says seriously, and Ahsoka laughs.

R2 announces that they’re there right before the door opens to the hall leading to the Council Room. Ahsoka pats his cheek once more and follows R2 out, Luke hesitating only a moment before stepping after her.

When they enter the room, Luke is mildly surprised to see it’s mostly empty - only Obi-Wan, Mace Windu, and Depa Billaba are there. Ahsoka inclines her head in a bow to them before waving the door shut with the Force behind Luke. R2 wheels over to where Obi-Wan stands at a window looking over the city skyline, beeping his greeting and spinning around when Obi-Wan smiles at him.

Obi-Wan chuckles. “You’re looking smart, Artoo - did your master finally treat you to a trip to the spa?”

Ahsoka sniggers from her chair, sitting on her knees, while Luke ignores him with a huff and rolls his eyes. He faces Mace and Depa and bows. “You called for me, Masters?”

Mace inclines his head in return. “We did, Master Skywalker; thank you for coming on such short notice.” Luke smiles calmly at them. “Master Billaba has to return to her home world for a few cycles, and needs someone to help oversee the younglings while she is away.” 

Luke fights a sigh - no doubt this was his uncle’s doing. He’s still pointedly chattering with R2 and hasn’t looked at Luke once. “You wish for me to take this role.”

“Temporarily and secondarily,” Depa amends. “Master Tano will lead a majority of the time while you tend to your priorities outside of the temple.”

Luke nods, raising his eyebrows at Ahsoka. She rests her chin on her fist and winks at him. “When do you need me?”

“The cycle after the next,” Depa says. Luke nods again.

“Understood. I’ll be available,” Luke agrees. Depa smiles at him, obviously grateful.

“Thank you, Master Skywalker. You and Master Tano will only need to do this for a few cycles, at most.”

“It’s no problem,” Luke answers honestly. He thinks of the Rodian wedding - the flowers will likely arrive the first cycle he and Ahsoka tag-team the younglings - giving him about a week to pull everything together after Depa returns. With Ahsoka’s help, he’ll have it all done in no time. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Mace offers him a rare smile. “The younglings will enjoy spending time with you as well, Luke.”

Ahsoka stands. “Thank you Masters - was that all? Luke and I need to brush up on our youngling wrangling tactics.”

Depa laughs and nods. “It is; you’re dismissed. Thank you both again.”

Luke grins and bows, Ahsoka mirroring the action beside him, then whistles for R2. “Artoo, do a twirl for the Council before we go.”

R2 chirps and whirls away from Obi-Wan mid-conversation, making Luke’s grin grow at his uncle’s exasperated eye roll, and comes to a stop right before Luke’s boots. He rotates slowly, the orange light of the setting sun gleaming off of him, and Depa claps her hands when he finishes.

“You look so handsome, Artoo,” she offers, and R2 has the audacity to trill bashfully. Mace shakes his head, standing to join Obi-Wan at the window.

“That droid hasn’t changed at all over the years,” he notes, and Obi-Wan chuckles.

“If anything, he’s more and more like his masters everyday,” his uncle drawls, and Luke huffs a sigh at him.

“Alright, Artoo, let’s go; we don’t have to stick around for such targeted conversation,” he says pointedly, smiling at his preening little droid when he beeps in agreement. He waves the doors open with the Force and nods again at Depa. “Thank you for your trust, Master - we’ll have everything in order for you when you return.”

“I know you will,” she says, a twinkle in her eye, and Luke suddenly feels like Depa knows more than she’s letting on. “May the Force be with you, Luke.”

“And with you, Depa,” Luke says. He jerks his chin towards the door at R2, then starts down the hallway. He hears Ahsoka wish them all good evening before she jogs up beside him. Once they’re in the elevator again, he relaxes. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” she points out, hands on her hips. “Your hood stayed in place too, even with all the bowing, so I don’t think they saw anything.”

Luke lets out a deep breath. “That’s a relief.” He looks at Ahsoka from the corner of his eye. “Did Uncle Ben have something to do with this?”

Ahsoka nods. “Oh absolutely. Depa was announcing her plans for travel this morning and when Master Windu asked who she thought would be able to handle the younglings in her absence, your uncle was volunteering you before Mace was done asking.”

Luke rolls his eyes and sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Great.”

“I didn’t think it was very fair of him - you have the shop, that wedding coming up, and your new boyfriend, so I offered to help as well,” Ahsoka continues. Luke’s face flames at the mention of Din; R2 trills his laugh at him when he catches him, but Luke can’t really deny anything anymore. 

“Thank you, Ahsoka,” he murmurs, and she smiles softly at him. 

“I’m happy to, Luke,” she says. The door opens to the main floor, and she wraps a strong hand around his wrist to pull him out. “All I ask in return is that you and I get something to eat, take it to your rooms, and you tell me all about how your Skydome date went.”

Luke blinks and trips over his boots when Ahsoka gives a sharp tug. “How did you even know that’s where we went?”

“Who do you think told him about it?” Ahsoka grins over her shoulder at him, and Luke’s confusion and embarrassment doubles.

Ahsoka listens with a wide smile, eyes soft when Luke tells her about the gorsa tree nursery. She at least promises not to tease him too much about the reeksa before sharing a story from when she was a Padawan and Anakin and Obi-Wan fought with one. With all the anger Luke remembers from the smaller one, he does not envy them.

R2 quiets well into the evening after they finished eating, shutting himself down in his closet after wishing them both a good night. Once he is out of earshot, Ahsoka looks at Luke and smiles. “My assumption is you guys made this official over the last few days?”

Luke runs a hand through his hair and nods, a smile playing at his lips. “I think he’s starting to warm up to Artoo, too - you know he doesn’t understand binary?”

Ahsoka hums. “You don’t have to fully understand binary to know when Artoo is carrying on about something.”

Luke laughs and folds his arms over the table. “That’s true - but he’s picking up on it. Today, after the Droid Spa, Artoo had him as a captive audience and wouldn’t let him go, beeping and whistling at him the entire walk back. D - ah, Mando, just - nodded along at him, humming in the surprisingly right places.” Luke rests his chin on his fist. “It was amazing.”

Ahsoka smiles at him. “He’s intuitive like that.”

Luke nods, smiling down at his empty plate and discarded utensils. “He is.”

Ahsoka takes a sip of her tea and sets the mug down carefully. “Have you told him about your hand?”

Luke presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“But you plan to?”

“I do.”

“Good,” Ahsoka says. “It wasn’t your fault, anyway.”

Luke flexes his gloved hand on the table, the phantom ache long since gone. “It was an accident,” he agrees. “If my father can forgive himself, then I can forgive myself for getting in his way.”

Ahsoka sighs, covering black leather with her hand. “Don’t look at it that way, Luke. You were trying to help.”

Luke offers a wry smile. “Guess you could say I was just offering a hand.” Ahsoka pulls her hand back as if burned and sntaches up her cup to take a slow sip of her tea, holding unimpressed eye contact until Luke laughs nervously. “What? That one was good.”

“No matter how many times you try that joke on me, I will never laugh at it,” she deadpans, turning Luke’s laugh more genuine. He leans back from the table and sighs, dropping his hands to his lap.

“One day, Ahsoka, I’ll catch you off guard,” he starts, wagging a gloved finger at her with a wink. She immediately shakes her head. 

“Not gonna happen.”

“Sure it will - then you’ll laugh.”

She shakes her head again and finishes her cup of tea. “Keep telling yourself that, Little Skyguy.”

“I will,” he answers with a grin, reclining back and crossing his arms over his chest and his boots at the ankles. She sniggers at him and sighs good-naturedly. 

“Well, my curiosity has been filled for now,” she says, stacking their plates together and gathering their utensils in a neat pile. “I’ll get out of here. I think you have a call to make, don’t you?”

Luke groans - R2 wasn’t anywhere near them when Luke said he would call Din earlier. “How do you even know? Kriffing hell, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka laughs and ruffles his hair when she stands up. “You’ve been checking your chronometer since we got here. Unsubtly, I might add.”

Luke rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

She smiles and picks up the stack of plates and utensils she gathered and grins at him. “No apologies needed, Little Skyguy. I’ll see you tomorrow - tell Mando I said hi.”

“Sure,” he answers, smiling at her and following her to the door. “Have a good night, Ahsoka.”

“You too, Luke.”

Once she’s gone, Luke locks the door and rests his forehead against the metal. It’s different from when he presses his skin to Din’s beskar, and his heart thuds painfully. He saw him just a few hours ago, but he misses him terribly, an ache settling in his ribs; he certainly isn’t too proud to admit that he yearns for a different type of metal pressed to his skin.

Luke shuts down the lights around him as he goes, pausing to check on R2 one more time before stepping into the small terrarium he keeps the Alderaanian flame-lilies in. The bulbs are still young, coming in slower than their rose counterparts; Luke adds more nutrient solution and adjusts the temperature on the heat box until he’s satisfied it will hold overnight. He leaves and shuts the door for his sleeping quarters behind him, hesitating for only a moment before locking it, then steps into the en-suite ‘fresher and brushes his teeth and hair before washing his face.

The mark Din left him is fading; he looks at it in the mirror, brushing some of his hair back and tilting his chin to the side. It’s only a few shades darker, now, and will likely be completely gone in another cycle or so. Luke runs his index finger over it and hums, wondering how Din may react if he were to ask him to darken it again. A shiver runs through Luke at the thought and he clears his throat, hurrying back into his sleeping quarters to change.

After changing into sleepwear, he settles down at his desk and taps his nails on the wood, wondering if it may be too late to call Din. A quick glance confirms that it’s still somewhat evening - just before 21:00 - and Luke remembers the last time they spoke over comlink, how it wasn’t much later than it currently is, so Luke selects Din’s contact and calls him before he can talk himself out of it.

“Luke,” he says once the call connects, voice soothing the ache in Luke’s chest. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Din,” Luke breathes, sliding further down in his seat to be more level with Din’s holo. Aside from the blue glow and transparency, Luke could almost pretend Din is there with him. “You?”

“Better, now,” Din answers. “How are you?”

“I’m better, too,” he parrots. “Ahsoka wanted me to tell you hello.”

Din hums and tilts his helmet. “Tell her the same.” Luke smiles at him, fiddling with his fingers. After a beat, he looks down.

“I need to tell you,” Luke starts, tilting his head to the side, eyes fixed on where he’s running his thumbnail along a seam on his glove. “I’ve been asked to help at the temple over the next few cycles, with the younglings.”

“What have they stolen now?” Din drawls, and Luke grins.

“Nothing, actually - although, who knows what the future holds.”

“The Jedi?” Din asks, borderline genuine, but Luke has begun to pick up on his subtle shifts in tone so his grin spreads; he bites his bottom lip to contain it, still staring down at his hands.

“That’s a trade secret, Mandalorian,” Luke teases, looking up at Din’s holo beneath his lashes. “If I start giving out everything, what’s left to teach the younglings?”

Din’s soft chuckles travel over the holo and into Luke’s chest, warming him. He wishes Din were there, or that Luke was with him - wherever that is. “Of course, save it for the younglings.”

“Of course.”

Luke looks back at his hands again; he’s incredibly nervous to tell Din that he has suddenly found himself with a finite amount of free time in the evenings, when before he had so much. He had been looking forward to spending more time together and getting to know Din better, and now he will have to wait again. Although it is only for a few cycles...

He’s beginning to rethink his stance about not inheriting his father’s impatience.

“Anyway, over the next few cycles, I’ll have to leave from the shop to come right back,” he continues after a few more beats of silence. He sighs and decides he needs to actually look at Din when he’s talking, shifting to rest his elbow on the arm of his chair and his chin on his fist. Now not having his other hand to fiddle with, Luke taps his gloved fingers on his thigh. “I...regrettably won’t have as much time in the evening as before.”

Din tilts his helmet. “When?”

“Starting the cycle after next,” Luke answers. When Din doesn’t reply, Luke shifts in his seat again and his nerves get the better of him. He blurts: “Are you upset?”

“No,” Din answers immediately. “I’m - so not tomorrow?”

Luke sighs in relief and shakes his head. “Not tomorrow.”

Din hums. “Could I - take you somewhere, then?”

“I would like that,” Luke answers, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth to fight an insanely dopey smile.

Luke can see Din’s shoulders rise and drop on a quick breath. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Din,” Luke says softly. “I’ll go anywhere with you.” Realizing he’s skirting dangerously close to an admission, Luke clears his throat and continues. “Should I leave Artoo behind?” Din shakes his helmet.

“No, he’s fine to come. Can’t say he won’t be bored, though.”

Luke chuckles softly. “Artoo has always been good at entertaining himself.”

“Did he see that other droid?”

“Not yet, but he did preen for the Council,” Luke answers, showing his teeth in a wide grin. “And every other Jedi that looked his direction in the temple.”

“Is he like that often?”

“Vain and full of himself? Absolutely,” Luke assures; Din chuckles again.

“Proud thing,” he comments, and Luke snorts.

“You don’t even know half of it. You’re better off not understanding binary; he’ll beep your ears off.” Luke rests his chin on his fist again, finally more relaxed after knowing Din won’t mind his new assignment over the next few cycles. “He was regaling you with war stories the entire way back to the temple earlier.”

“Well, he’s a decorated war hero,” Din says with such deadpan delivery Luke has to slap his gloved hand over his mouth to cover his loud bark of laughter.

“Do not let him hear you say that,” he warns through his laughter, letting his head drop against the back of the chair. “I’m lucky he can fit in the temple with the size of his ego. I’m honestly not sure how there’s even enough space in his programming for it.”

“Wonder where he could get that from,” Din says, and Luke snaps his head up to look back at Din, a coy smile pulling at his lips. 

“Are you sure you want to play this game with me, Din Djarin?” Luke asks, straightening his posture and resting both of his elbows on the armrests; his heart pounds against his ribs, and he really can’t think of any other reason for why he’s feeling so breathless from Din’s teasing other than it meaning he has the entirety of the other man’s attention. He feels the same when they’re in the shop and Din listens intently or gently razzes him, but it feels more significant now with the weight of Luke’s earlier realization.

“What game?” Din feigns, causing Luke’s smile to widen. “Just an observation.”

“Mmhm,” Luke counters, leaning back in his chair again. “I’ll remember this tomorrow.”

“I’m counting on it,” Din says, and Luke inhales sharply. He nearly blurts it all out right then and there - he bites the inside of his cheek instead.

“Where are you?” Luke asks, suddenly needing a shift in topic. He can feel his hands begin to tremble from nerves - Din never fails to bring it out in him - and removes his elbows from their prop to drop his hands to his lap and hide them.

Din doesn’t seem to mind the abrupt shift in topic, not missing a beat. “My ship.”

“Do you stay there, or do you have a room somewhere?” Luke asks, then immediately wants to take it back - he didn’t realize how forward that would sound until he’s already said it. He thinks back to his earlier thought, asking Din to darken the mark on his neck, swallowing thickly and shifting in his seat.

Again, Din either doesn’t mind the question or didn’t notice the duel meaning. “I stay onboard.” He pauses for a breath then adds: “There’s plenty of space.”

Well - maybe he did notice. Luke swallows again. “What type of ship?”

“Gunship,” Din answers. “Old military patrol ship, left over from the war. Got it for a good deal.”

Luke thinks of all the time he’s seen Han and Chewie spending on repairs for the Falcon; Din’s ship sounds like it may be in a similar vein, likely needing a lot of upkeep. Luke can absolutely read between the lines on what a ‘good deal’ is for a ship of that age. “Can I see it, sometime?”

Din pauses, and Luke can see his shoulders rise on a breath again, the edges of the holo smoothing out with the motion. “Yes, I - yes.”

Luke smiles and ducks his chin, thumbs tapping against each other. “I can’t wait.” Luke catches Din releasing a shuddering breath so quietly he almost misses it, and feels an answering flush tingling up his neck. He can’t really bring himself to be concerned with how that may have sounded, but he wonders if he may have embarrassed Din as a result. He remembers how urgently Din had kissed him in the break room and knows that Din is attracted to him, but conversation is a whole other battle.

“I’ve monopolized enough of your time,” Luke says, looking back up at Din. “I should let you get some rest.”

“You can monopolize my time any...time,” Din finishes lamely, and Luke can’t help but chuckle.

“So charming,” he breathes, absolutely genuine, and Din clears his throat. “I mean that too, should you ever doubt it.” Din’s helmet tilts again, almost like he’s trying to look at a point over Luke’s shoulder. He doesn’t offer a comment, providing instead a noncommittal hum, but Luke’s smile grows. “Good night, Din. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Din tilts his visor back. “Yes; sleep well, Luke.”

Luke’s finger hovers over the disconnect button, eyes lingering to trace the familiar slopes and lines of Din’s helmet and shoulders, before he forces himself to end the call lest he continue to stare at Din all night. He lets out a sigh once the blue light of the holo fades away and slumps back into his seat. 

“I love you,” he says, just to try, and his hands start their trembling again.

Chapter Text

When Din comes by right before close, R2 lets him in with a delighted beep. Luke is already weaving through the flowers to get back to the front and smiles brightly at Din when he sees him.

“Hi there, handsome,” he greets when Din turns his visor towards him. Luke enjoys the surprisingly bashful duck of Din’s helmet and comes to a stop in front of him, placing his gloved hand lightly on Din’s chest plate.

“I didn’t realize the Jedi employed empty flattery,” Din mutters dryly, covering Luke’s hand with his own and tilting his head back up. “You don’t know that.”

Luke’s smile softens as he hums, wanting to trace the edge of Din’s helmet but reluctant to move his hand from Din’s chest and holding a bottle of nutrient solution in his other hand. “Sure I do, Din. I have eyes.”

Din huffs what could be a laugh, but the harsh sound through his modulator is tense; Luke’s smile slowly fades. “How has your day been?”

Luke blinks - Din’s non sequitur throws him for a moment. “Busy, but that’s not surprising. I’ve been spending time in cold storage pulling together arrangements that I won’t really have the time for in a few days.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Din offers, and Luke smiles at him again, touched by Din’s willingness to help him.

“I just need to finish checking up on the flowers, then I’m done for the day,” Luke answers. Din’s hand over his squeezes his fingers lightly before he begins to step back; Luke reaches out to stop him with a hand on his shoulder. “There is one thing.”

Din tilts his helmet curiously and waits.

Luke swallows, nervous - he really shouldn’t be at this point, but Din has been initiating more of their contact than Luke, and after Din’s clear embarrassment the night before and just a few minutes ago, Luke wants to show him he means what he says. He moves his hand from Din’s shoulder to the side of his helmet, palm fitting into the sharp dip in beskar, and gently urges Din to tilt his head down.

Din goes easily and almost sags forward, helmet dipping towards Luke, and Luke presses up on the balls of his feet to meet him. He applies more pressure than he previously has, eyes fluttering shut; when he catches Din’s breath hitch, he bites his bottom lip. Din relaxes further into him and settles his hands heavily on Luke’s hips, gloved thumbs tracing along the length of his belt just above the hilt of his lightsaber. After spending most of the afternoon in the cold, Din’s hands are nealy blazing through his gloves and Luke’s tunic; a shiver of warmth rolls through him with each slow swipe of Din’s thumb.

Luke hums. “This is nice; I think I could stay right here.”

Din’s breathy chuckle is a far cry from the harsh sound earlier. “What was it you needed me to do?”

“Oh,” Luke begins, a grin pulling at his lips. He opens his eyes to wink at Din; the expression is likely lost with how close they are, but he does it anyway. “Just this.”

Din chuckles again, the sound deeper than before, and Luke’s stomach flips. “I see.”

“Do you have a concern?”

“Perhaps.”

“Take it up with management, then.”

“Wouldn’t that be you?”

Luke shrugs. “It’s Artoo on Bendudays.”

“Convenient,” Din murmurs, sliding a palm up to frame Luke’s ribs.

Luke lets out a trembling breath, his eyes sliding shut again. He wonders if Din can feel his hands trembling through the beskar - or his heart slamming against his ribcage, for that matter. “I can go get him.”

“I think we can sort it out ourselves.”

A clear ping sings out in a way that Luke hasn’t heard before, and Din’s helmet turns sharply to his right, pulling away from Luke. His hand on Luke’s ribs flexes. “...is that you?”

Luke opens his eyes to follow where Din’s attention is, only to immediately clear his throat. When he placed his hand on Din’s shoulder he just, sort of, let go of the bottle of nutrient solution. It definitely drifted from Luke’s Force perch to bump - again - into Din’s pauldron. Luke regretfully removes his hand from Din’s helmet to reach out for it before it assaults Din again.

“Ah, yes, that’s me,” Luke answers once the bottle is firmly in his hand. “I wasn’t holding onto the right thing at the right time.”

Din turns to look back at him, palms still warm and settled on Luke. “Yeah?”

Luke smiles awkwardly and shakes the bottle in his hand. “Let me just - finish this up. Just a few minutes, alright?”

Din nods, his hands falling away from Luke. Luke immediately misses Din’s warmth but smiles and weaves back to where he left off, reaching out to check on the last few batches of flowers in the Force. After adding more solution to a group of haughty musk-roses, Luke twists the cap back on the bottle and walks around to get behind the counter; he passes R2 sweeping up a collection of fallen petals and pats his dome on the way.

Din is standing in front of the Queen’s Heart display as Luke puts the bottle away beneath the counter and begins shutting down his datapad.

“What are these called?” He asks. Luke tucks away the datapad and boxes up the extra credits.

“Queen’s Heart,” Luke answers. “They’re native to Naboo, and my mother’s favourite.”

“Do you keep these here for her?”

Luke takes a moment to seal the safe with the Force before answering. “That, and they remind me of home.”

When Luke covers the safe with the floor mat and stands, Din is on the other side of the counter, facing him. “Your home world.”

Luke nods, touched that Din remembers. “I was born on Naboo, my sister and I; these flowers hang from nearly every balcony in Theed.” He looks over Din’s shoulder at the vivid red blossoms, small and lovely, cascading down the trellis in large bushels. “They’re persistent and so beautiful. My mom taught me how to make my first flower crown out of these flowers.”

“Like what you had in your hair outside the temple.” Luke looks back at Din and nods again. He feels like he shouldn’t be surprised by Din remembering such an inconsequential detail, especially about him of all people, but he is.

“Yes; I’ll show you how sometime,” he offers, quirking a smile. “I’m a fairly apt teacher. I’ve been passing it down to Jedi younglings for years.”

Din tilts his helmet fondly at Luke. “I look forward to it.”

Luke’s smile grows as he steps around the counter and down into the floor of the shop. “Artoo? Are you about done, pal?”

R2 beeps from a few aisles over that he’s been done for almost half an hour, where the hell has Luke been? Luke rolls his eyes. “You were literally just sweeping, sorry for checking before interrupting you.”

R2 trills his laugh at him and announces that he’ll get the lights while Luke continues to take his sweet time staring at Din. Luke shakes his head and nods Din towards the door of the shop. “He’ll meet us outside,” he says dryly.

Din trails behind him until they’re outside and standing just to the side of the door, where they wait in companionable silence for R2. Luke glances over his shoulder at the milling crowd behind them and notices that the driver from the other night, Tarl, is leaning against the side of his speeder behind them. He folds his hands into the sleeves of his robes and turns back to look at Din. “Are you sure you don’t want me to send Atroo back?”

Din shakes his head. “No need.”

Luke waits to see if Din will add anything more; when he doesn’t, Luke hums at him. “I take it that means you’re not going to tell me what you have planned?”

Din turns his visor away from the glass door towards Luke instead, and Luke can feel tendrils of coy playfulness radiating off the other man into the Force. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Luke huffs a laugh and clenches his hands together under the safety of his sleeves, his stomach flipping with excitement. “Always so mysterious, Din.”

Din raises his shoulders in a soft shrug, prompting another laugh from Luke.

Once R2 has rolled out and locked the shop, Din guides them towards Tarl, who straightens up from his lean to grin at Luke. “Good t’see ya again, Jedi!”

“Please, call me Luke, and it’s nice to see you as well, Tarl,” Luke answers, smiling serenely at him. When R2 beeps with annoyance at his side, Luke gestures to him. “And this is Artoo.”

“Nice t’meetcha both, more official-like,” Tarl answers, shooting a significant look at Din. “I’m sure I won’t be seein’ the last o’ ya anytime soon.”

Din places a hand on the small of Luke’s back to guide him towards taking a seat in the back of the speeder. “Tarl,” he says, tone clearly exasperated. Tarl holds up both hands placatingly and shrugs.

“Jus’ makin’ an observation, is all.”

Din offers a dubious noise; Luke bites the inside of his lip to fight a smile.

Tarl climbs over the edge of the speeder to get into the pilot seat as Din helps Luke in, and Luke gets R2 settled with a boost from the Force so he doesn’t have to use his thrusters. Once Din and Tarl are both seated, Tarl turns on the speeder.

“Still goin’ t’Uscru, Mando?”

“Yes,” Din answers, and Luke furrows his brows at him. Tarl nods and turns his attention to piloting, smoothly merging into the air traffic around them when R2 beeps that it’s clear. 

“The Uscru district?” He asks, raising his voice to be heard over the air rushing around them. Din nods. “What’s there, outside of clubs and cantinas?”

“You’ll see,” Din replies cryptically, and Luke openly pouts at him.

“Fine, continue to keep your secrets,” he mutters under his breath, smiling when he feels Din’s chest vibrate with soft laughter beside him.

“We’ll be there soon enough, cyar’ika ,” Din murmurs, moving to lay his arm along the back of the seat and Luke’s shoulders. “Do you want to spoil it?”

Luke feels his face start to flush. “...no.”

Din presses his forehead against Luke’s temple briefly - the motion leaking so much affection into the Force that Luke’s heart skips a beat - before he straightens to look forward. “A little longer, then.”

Soon is correct - Tarl is an expert at navigating the traffic of Galactic City, and with R2 chirping suggestions and acting as copilot, they quickly arrive outside of a rather nondescript building. It almost stands out with its lack of detail - the buildings on either side are bright and announced with large neon signs, entrances wide and spilling out music with heavy bass.

Din climbs out and helps Luke as well, his hand still lingering on the small of Luke’s back as he lifts R2 out with the Force. Tarl turns around in his seat and grins at them.

“I’ll call you,” Din says before Tarl can open his mouth. His grin grows in response when he nods.

“Enjoy!” He taunts, tossing a lazy wave over his shoulder before he pulls away, back into traffic. Luke watches him go for a moment before turning back to Din. He’s already looking at Luke, helmet tilted expectantly, and Luke feels a little lost.

“If you’re waiting for me to figure it out, it may take a minute,” Luke says sheepishly, and R2 beeps a snicker at him.

Din tilts his helmet towards the plain building in front of them, amusement evident in his tone. “I’ll show you.”

The moment they step over the threshold of the building, the music and cacophony from outside is immediately tapered. Luke’s eyebrows rise as he looks around what appears to be a small lobby, bare of anything except a rickety-looking table and suspect chairs. A humanoid male sits at a desk walled off behind thick transparisteel, staring down at a datapad. He didn’t acknowledge them when they stepped in, and now only looks up when Din raps his knuckles on the transparisteel.

He snaps his face up, eyes wide with surprise, before he relaxes. “Evening, Mando; back sooner than I expected. You looking for the usual?”

Din shakes his head and adjusts his stance, revealing Luke standing just behind him. “Space for two, and a droid.”

The man quirks a dark eyebrow at him, lips pulled in a frown. “Since when did you start associating with some chipbrain?”

R2 wheels forward and beeps haughtily that he’ll show him a chipbrain - Luke rolls his eyes and lets out a soft sigh, dropping a palm to R2’s dome to calm him. He doubts Din would bring them somewhere that would intentionally pose a danger to any of them, but the man’s comment does put him on edge.

The man barks a laugh and points at Din with his stylus, obviously unbothered by R2’s threats. “It’s got quite the mouth on it.”

“So I’ve been told,” Din drawls. Luke ducks his chin to hide his smirk while R2 beeps indignantly.

The man shrugs and looks down at the datapad in his hand. “Lane ten is open, follow along the hall on B5 and take the door at the end. Equipment and the like is there for order if you need it. Tell that droid to keep to itself.”

Din nods. “Put it on my tab.”

The man nods back and taps the stylus on the datapad a few times before pressing a button on the desk; a door that Luke didn’t notice before opens in the wall to the right of the transparisteel, showing a standard lift. Din gestures for Luke and R2 to go first, then follows in after them. Luke raises an eyebrow at him once the door for the lift is closed and Din has them heading to the correct floor. “He’s certainly charming.”

Din cocks his helmet coyly at Luke. “You say the same about me.”

Luke sputters and flushes, caught off guard. He ignores R2’s laughter behind him when he continues. “Well, I mean - you are. I’m being facetious about that guy. He seems like an ass.”

Din chuckles softly, the sound echoing in the quiet of the lift. The door pings as they pass floors, drawing his attention. “He doesn’t like droids.”

“Well, he’s hardly even met Artoo yet, you have to give him at least five minutes before he makes up your mind for you,” Luke quips, laughing when R2 rolls into the back of his legs. Din places a hand on his shoulder to steady him when he’s forced to take a few steps forward to escape R2’s continued assault. 

R2 grumbles that perhaps if he hadn’t been surrounded by Skywalkers for the majority of his existence, maybe he would be more likable. Luke mock-gasps and flicks the blaster scuff under R2’s lens. “Savage little thing; remember I’m your friend, Artoo, but not for long with that attitude.”

R2 laughs about Luke calling him savage and starts to remind Luke of the last time he needed his help with a prank on Ahsoka that was particularly heinous when the door for the lift pings again and slides open. Luke shushes him and grins at Din. “Oh, we’re here!”

Din had been watching the two of them quietly, likely trying to piece together their conversation from just Luke’s side. “Yes. Would you like to go, or should I leave you two alone?”

R2 pushes between them, causing Luke to take a hurried step back to avoid the toes of his boots being scuffed and rolled over. The last occurrence took several extra rounds of polishing, and he really doesn’t think he has the time for a repeat. He shrugs at Din. “After him, I suppose.”

Din wraps a hand around Luke’s wrist and tugs him out of the lift into a hallway lined with doors. It’s oddly quiet aside from their steps and R2 ahead of them; Luke glances at the doors as they pass, viewports dark on most of them. One is lit from within, and when Luke peeks in as they pass, he sees a Dressellian with their hood down, firing a blaster at a target at the very end of a long, narrow hallway.

Suddenly the nondescript building, quiet, and secrecy makes sense. 

Luke smirks over at Din and bumps their shoulders together. “A firing range, Din?”

Din’s fingers flex on Luke’s wrist and he carefully clears his throat. “I - know it isn’t the Skydome.”

Luke shakes his head, realizing he had been misunderstood. “No, I’m excited; this will be fun. I haven’t practiced with a blaster since Tatooine.” He covers Din’s hand still around his wrist with careful fingers. “Is that why you didn’t want to say anything? You were worried I wouldn’t want to come here?”

Din clears his throat again in lieu of an answer, which is all the confirmation Luke needs. He smiles softly and bumps their shoulders together again, the deafening love he feels for Din swelling in his chest. “You’re sweet and charming, Din; not facetiously.”

When Din clears his throat a third time, the sound is almost strangled.

They catch up to R2, who has stopped in front of what Luke assumes is their rented lane - the last door at the end of the long hallway. Din opens the door to reveal a narrow room similar to what Luke caught through the Dressellian’s viewport. Where the Dressellian’s room looked to be a scarce three feet across, this room is easily double but still a tight fit, with just enough room for Din and Luke to stand shoulder to shoulder and R2 to rest next to a table along the wall behind them.

Luke spins in place slightly, giving a low whistle. “Not a lot of room for movement.”

“More than enough, but less than what you’re used to, I’m sure,” Din answers, bringing a smile to Luke’s lips. 

“One does tend to need more space for a lightsaber, although that’s never stopped me before,” he answers, watching Din remove his blaster from his holster and set it on the table, pulling his satchel around to remove another one. Luke takes the two steps needed to stand next to Din. “Is one of these for me?”

Din nods. “An extra I have.” He passes the second one to Luke and shows where the charge is set to safety. “You go first, Jedi.”

Luke takes the blaster and grins at Din. “Alright.”

Din stays at the back of the room, leaning his hip against the table, and turns to Luke. Luke crosses the short distance to the raised half-wall separating their little space from the rest of the long hallway. He flips the blaster to stun and nods. “What am I shooting at?”

A loud buzz echoes, causing Luke to wince, and he turns to catch Din’s hand moving away from a panel next to his shoulder. Luke looks back down the hall to see a target there now, a simple ring of circles that progressively get smaller around the center. Din has dropped the target about halfway down the hall, fifteen feet from Luke - likely taking it easy on him.

Luke raises his eyebrows, aims, and fires. His blaster bolt burns in the center of the rings. When he grins over his shoulder at Din, he’s nodding. “Good shot.”

“Part of helping on my uncle’s farm was taking out womp rats,” Luke offers, his grin growing. “Uncle Ben didn’t approve, but my father and I enjoyed it.”

Din presses the button again, sending off the buzzer - Luke turns to see the closer target flip back into the ceiling and one at the very end flip down. Din settles back, arms crossing over his chest. “Try this.”

Luke nods, taking aim with the blaster again. He inhales a short breath then fires; the bolt sinks into the target again, too far away for Luke to make out clearly. He sets the blaster down on the half-wall and turns back to Din. “Well?”

Din stares out for a moment, then looks back at Luke. “Just to the right.”

Luke groans. “No way I missed it.” Din just nods; Luke huffs. “Prove it.”

Din moves to the panel again, this time pressing a different button, and a screen blinks to life in the wall. It shows a readout of the target Luke shot, and sure enough - a green indicator shows where Luke’s shot landed, just to the right of the center. Luke scoffs. “It’s rigged.”

Din laughs, the sound startled and delightful through his modulator, and warmth seeps through Luke in its wake. “I doubt that.”

Luke crosses his arms over his chest and huffs a laugh. “You go, then.”

Din nods and grabs his blaster where he left it on the table, flips to stun, and then takes aim down the hallway. His arm is hardly level for a second before he’s pulling the trigger, and Luke immediately looks at the monitor. A green light flashes over the center, dead on. Luke’s mouth falls open, a different kind of heat spreading through his veins now. He flicks his eyes to Din, already facing him and holding his blaster up near his shoulder with his finger lying harmlessly along the trigger.

“Friendly competition?” Luke offers, voice only a little breathy; his tongue darts out to wet suddenly dry lips. 

Din hums. “What do I get when I win?”

Luke scoffs, hoping the rising flush on his face isn’t too obvious. “Don’t get cocky.”

Din chuckles. “Fine - what do you wager?”

Luke taps his chin, thinking. “Ask me anything you want, and I’ll answer.”

Din tilts his helmet. “I accept.”

Luke smirks. “Of course you do; what do you offer in exchange?”

“Whatever you want,” Din says easily, and Luke feels the breath surge out of him. His mind reels with possibilities, immediately derailing his train of thought, and Luke can’t help but wonder if Din said that to throw him off intentionally.

“You absolutely did that intentionally,” Luke breathes, calling him out, and Din shrugs without comment. Luke takes a moment to shift his drifting focus before glancing over his shoulder at R2. “I accept. Artoo, keep score, will you?”

R2 beeps affirmatively and says his credits are on Din. Luke rolls his eyes and makes a rude hand gesture towards the astromech that sets him off into peals of chirping laughter. Din chuckles quietly beside him, and Luke huffs. “You’re both ganging up on me; I’ll remember this. Now be quiet and arm the targets.”

Initially they take turns with the targets, shooting at various points other than just the center of the rings, and after several rounds their scores are nearly tied. When Din drops three targets down, Luke gestures with the barrel of his loaned blaster. “Blue ring on the first one just to the left of the center, upper red ring on the second, then bullseye on the last; five seconds from holster to finish.” When Din nods and holsters his blaster, Luke grins. “Artoo, start counting.”

R2 beeps and Luke mimes a holster on his hip, holding his breath for R2’s signal. Once the droid beeps again, Luke flips up the blaster and aims, letting off all three of his shots right before R2 beeps to stop. He looks at the monitor and lets out a breath, grinning. “Got two of three.”

Din hums. “Not bad. Artoo, start.”

R2 beeps; Din leans his shoulders back and pulls his blaster up in a flash, letting off three rapid-fire shots and dropping his blaster back to his holster before R2 calls time. Luke bites the inside of his cheek, his heart hammering wildly, and slowly looks away from Din to the monitor. “...all three are spot on. How is that possible?”

“I know,” Din quips, and R2 laughs behind them when Luke sags. Din places a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Don’t get discouraged.”

“I’m not, you’re just,” Luke pauses to swallow, licking his lips again. How does he say that Din’s competency with a blaster is extremely attractive without embarrassing either of them any more than usual? “Good. At this.”

Din’s hand slides to the back of his neck, gloved fingers dipping beneath the collar of his tunic to graze the skin of his nape. Shivers run down Luke’s spine, and he leans back against Din’s touch. “I can help?”

“Yes please,” Luke breathes, eyes fluttering shut as Din moves to stand behind him, wrapping his other hand around Luke’s on the blaster. 

“Up, like you were,” he gently urges, voice directly in Luke’s ear. He moves the hand holding the blaster up and shifts his posture while Din’s other hand drifts along his shoulders again. “Relax.” He presses until Luke does, which is quite the feat - Luke is so tense he’s hardly taking a breath, trying to focus his mind on one of the targets and not the all of Din pressing against his back.

Din picks up on it immediately. “You need to breathe, Luke.”

“I can’t,” he whispers. “You’re distracting me.”

Din huffs a laugh, his helmet pressing against the side of Luke’s head gently; Luke’s eyes close again as he lets out a shaky breath. “With me, then.”

Luke can feel Din’s chest rising on each breath behind him and tries to sync his own. After a few more breaths, his breathing matches, and he fights to keep his racing heart under control - he’s sure Din can feel it. Din nearly ruins all of Luke’s hard won focus when he trails his fingers down the length of Luke’s left arm to his wrist, gently directing Luke’s other hand to join theirs already on the blaster. “You should use both, for now.”

Luke swallows thickly, his breathing speeding up against his will. It’s like he’s standing in front of the reeksa all over again. “Din.”

“Yes?” He asks, voice a low rumble in Luke’s ear that spikes his pulse.

Luke blinks and carefully bites his bottom lip. He’s so stupidly attracted to Din he’s starting to get lightheaded in a kriffing firing range. “You’re still distracting me.”

Din nuzzles against the side of his neck and Luke feels his knees grow weak; Din’s hand around his on the blaster squeezes. “Fire.”

Luke does and somehow still manages to hit the bullseye at the back of the range. The Force was absolutely with him on that joke of a shot.

When Din steps back, arms leaving Luke, Luke has to brace both of his palms on the half-wall in front of him for balance and takes a deep breath. “You’re ridiculously unfair.”

“You still hit it.”

A shiver runs up Luke’s spine. “Are you going to help me every time? I may actually stand a chance if you do,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. He can feel Din’s eyes boring into him through his visor, the air and Force tense and simmering around them.

“Either way, I win,” Din answers, and Luke inhales sharply. He turns to properly face Din and reaches out to him.

R2 chooses right then to remind them where they are and that they’re not alone; plus, he really doesn’t want to have to possibly erase security footage so they may want to table that conversation for now. Luke splutters and coughs into his hand, trying to cover it with a laugh. Din rests his hands on his hips and clears his throat; he doesn’t have to be able to understand binary to know that R2 is definitely getting the better of them.

They reluctantly turn back to the competition, standing side-by-side, trading off shots of increasing skill at the targets. Luke remembers the feeling of Din against him and tries to emulate the posture Din corrected for him, but ultimately he was far too distracted to properly catalog it. Still, he holds his own, and Din only wins by a few points.

“You did well, Luke,” he says when Luke flips the safety back on his borrowed blaster and hands it over. “You’re a good shot.”

Luke huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “An out-of-practice shot.”

Din shrugs, holstering his own blaster. “We can fix that.”

Luke cuts his eyes sharply to Din. “Your ‘helping’ is more distracting than useful, Din.”

Din’s helmet tilts at him, and Luke can hear the smirk in his voice. “Aren’t Jedi trained to focus regardless of their environment?”

“Unreal,” Luke murmurs under his breath, fighting a grin and swatting the back of his hand against Din’s chest plate. “Had I known I was just brought along for comedic relief I would have stayed at the shop.”

Din chuckles and grabs Luke’s flailing hand to bring it to his helmet, pressing Luke’s knuckles right where his lips would be. “You’re incredible.”

Luke’s heart flutters, a soft smile tugging on his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Whatever you say.” Din squeezes his fingers again before letting his hand go. “Are you ready? We’ve got one more stop.”

Luke nods and follows after Din, R2 rolling beside him and beeping at Luke to not feel too bad about losing to Din, he is a Mandalorian, after all. Luke just shrugs down at R2 with a grin. “That’s alright, Artoo - next time I’ll give him a lightsaber and level the field a bit.”

Din’s soft chuckles echo in the quiet hallway, mingling with their steps.

The ride back to the first floor is uneventful, R2 bragging about Din’s ridiculous bullseye count - it really is impressive, Luke is suitably affected and then some - while Luke lazily keeps up his side of the conversation, his eyes focused on the man next to him. Din seems at ease, hands relaxed at his sides; Luke reaches out and laces their fingers together. Din squeezes warmly and tilts his helmet towards Luke, nudging against his temple.

The lobby is exactly how it was when they were in it earlier, table and chairs still an awkward and suspicious touch, except the man behind the transparisteel barrier isn’t there. Din pulls Luke from the lift and across the room, R2 wheeling behind them, then back out into the wall of sound and neon light that is Uscru. Din squeezes his hand once more before releasing him.

“It’s a short way from here,” he says, helmet tilting to the left. “We can walk there.”

Luke nods and falls into step beside him, shoulders bumping occasionally. The last time Luke found himself in the Uscru district, he had to weave and dodge around the crowd. Walking with Din, the crowd seems to almost part for him. Luke determines the reason is likely because of his armor - it’s imposing and threatening, and he doubts anyone wants to potentially cross a Mandalorian.

R2 seems to be having an experience similar to when Luke was there last, nearly getting bowled over when people try to cut between the scarce space between him and Luke or Din; Luke glances over his shoulder and sniggers, almost losing sight of R2 a few times. Recalling all the teasing he’s had to endure from R2 at the firing range, Luke calls: “Artoo! Having trouble keeping up, pal?”

R2 beeps an expletive so loud he manages to freeze a good portion of the immediate crowd trying to overtake him and weaves between them. Luke drops a hand to Din’s wrist, stopping him so the astromech can catch up. R2 doesn’t stop once he’s there, instead situating himself between Luke and Din for the rest of their walk with a deeply annoyed beep.

Luke just grins behind his gloved hand and drops his other palm to R2’s dome.

The crowds thin as they walk and is almost cleared when Din stops abruptly outside of a brightly lit shop. Luke staggers a moment, still moving forward with R2, before coming to a stop by his side to peer up at the sign over the shop.

“Jixuan Treats,” he reads, then smiles brightly at Din. “Is this where you got those gummy candies?”

Din nods. “I thought you might like to see what else they have.”

Luke smiles brightly. “You are absolutely correct.”

Din steps forward and triggers the automatic door, Luke right behind him. The shop is small but lined with rows and rows of clear containers filled with color against one wall, and glass counters overflowing with pastries and sweets on the other side and wrapping around the centre. Luke feels his eyes widen; the younglings would love this place.

“Artoo,” he says, turning on his heel. “Stay outside, would you? It’s tight in here.”

R2 grumbles but does as he’s asked, rolling backwards through the door. Luke grins at Din and grabs his hand again. “Show me around.”

Din nods and pulls him along, pointing out the assorted fruit gummies first, surrounded by similar gummy candy in fun shapes and bright colours. Luke grins, reading the signs for each flavour, before Din pulls him to one of the glass counters. Luke blinks and feels a flush creeping up his neck. “This is where you get that chocolate from.”

Luke’s favourite thing Din brings to trade for flowers, other than the blue milk custard, is the dark chocolate bark with red rock salt, and now there is an entire tray staring back at him under the glass. He blinks at the chocolate, taking in the shimmering crimson salt, and looks over the other options, finding some with bits of fruit added. 

“Yes,” Din confirms. “I found all this on my way from the range. My son enjoys the gummy candy and taffy, but I like these.”

Luke looks over at him. “The chocolate?” Din nods. “Which one?”

Din gestures with his free hand at the bark with cobalt blue marbling. “It’s made with Roonan lemon and spices.” He pauses before continuing. “I - don’t care for overly sweet things.”

Luke grins at him, bumping their shoulders together. “What are you hanging around me for, then?”

Din huffs a laugh at him and squeezes Luke’s hand. “I’m allowed exceptions.”

A loud crash echoes in the small shop, causing Din to tense beside him. He drops Luke’s hand and draws his blaster, tugging Luke to get behind him. “Sorry, sorry!” A voice calls out from the back room, likely the origin of the sound. “Nothing to see here, promise!”

Din relaxes and holsters his blaster. “Leysa.”

A Twi’lek pops her head out around the corner, skin a beautiful shade of purple. “Mando!” She drops her hands to the bright pink apron she’s wearing to wipe them off and pushes her sleeves back. “Hi, how are you?”

“Do you need help?” She waves her hands at him and shakes her head.

“No, no - we’ve got it under control. Just doing a little inventory.” Leysa steps further into the floor of the shop, her dark eyes landing on Luke still behind Din. “Mando, I didn’t know you brought someone. Who’s this?”

Din glances at Luke, silent for a moment; Luke smiles encouragingly. He turns back to Leysa and hesitantly steps aside so she has a clearer view of Luke. “This is Luke.”

Leysa’s smile turns from polite to knowing. “So this is Luke.”

“Yes,” Din shifts his weight awkwardly when he answers, and Luke raises his eyebrows at him. 

Leysa walks along behind the counter until she’s standing in front of them, her eyes fixed on Luke; he oddly feels like he’s being assessed. After a moment, her smile widens and she offers her hand to him. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Luke. You’re exactly as breathtaking as Mando said.”

Luke grins and feels a flush creep up his neck when he shakes her hand, Din coughing sharply beside him. “Her words, not mine.”

Leysa quirks a brow at him. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Leysa,” Luke says, trying to spare Din from further embarrassment. “I’ve been enjoying your chocolate.”

“I’m glad to hear,” she says, grinning at Din again. “Mando here is my favourite regular. We go way back.”

Luke laughs when Din abruptly turns his back on them, wandering over towards the other side of the shop - hardly five feet away, but he’s still valiantly trying to escape the conversation. “I think you’re embarrassing him.”

Leysa shrugs. “He’s had worse, he’ll survive.” She smiles at him. “What can I get for you?”

Luke orders a box of the cobalt chocolate Din favors and another of his favourite, a large bag of fruit gummies for Din’s son, and a small box of assorted fruit pastries. He’s confident Ahsoka and Obi-Wan will enjoy the rare treat. 

While Leysa is bagging up his purchases, Din still carefully keeps his distance on the other side of the shop. He’s a stark standout, intimidating armour in a sea of pastel and candy; the juxtaposition reminds Luke of when Din wanders around his flowers. Luke grins at him before turning back to Leysa. “Have you been in business long?”

Leysa nods. “Several years. My sister and I started with just a stall, then we added a cart, then this place. It’s been a journey.”

Luke smiles. “A family business, then.”

She wraps Luke’s pastries with a flourish. “Yes, it’s just the two of us here.”

Luke thinks for a moment, taping his fingers against his thigh, a plan formulating in his mind. “Should I want to place a large order, could I have your contact information?”

“Absolutely,” Leysa says. She rattles off the shop’s comlink to Luke while he saves it, then passes over his bag. “No charge.”

Luke falters, immediately uncomfortable. This must be how Din felt when Luke denied his credits the day they met. “You have to let me pay, I’ve ordered so much.”

Leysa just shakes her head, leaning over the counter to grab Luke’s gloved hand and looping the strap over his wrist. “Mando doesn’t pay, ever.”

Luke blinks at the hard conviction in her voice, previously so carefree, and takes in the serious expression on her face. He will have to ask Din about it later, instead nodding slowly and pulling the bag more securely in his grasp. “Thank you.”

Like a flipped switch, Leysa’s easy smile is back. “It is my pleasure.” She looks over Luke’s shoulder to Din, waving at him. “Mando, I like him. Bring him around more.” Luke flushes but grins, turning to look at Din awkwardly crossing and uncrossing his arms behind him, still across the shop. Leysa winks at him and lowers her voice for Luke, leaning forward when Luke turns back to her. “Don’t let him try to fool you; he’s enamored with you.”

Luke’s growing flush immediately darkens and he ducks his chin to hide his smile, hands trembling slightly around the handle of the bag.

“Leysa, stop harassing him,” Din calls, and Leysa laughs. 

“Have a good night!” She says instead, waving at them both. Luke waves back and returns to Din’s side. Din observes the bag in Luke’s hand and looks back up at him.

“All set?”

Luke nods. “Yes, thank you.”

“Tarl is outside,” he answers, placing a hand on the small of Luke’s back as they walk from the shop. R2 is already in Tarl’s speeder, rocking from side to side when he spots them. Tarl waves and meets them halfway.

“Didja git me anythin’, Mando?” He asks, tone and grin light.

“No,” Din grunts; he sounds like he’s still flustered from Leysa’s teasing. “If you want something, go talk to Leysa yourself.”

Luke doesn’t miss Tarl’s slight stumble, holding a hand out to steady him if needed. “Aw, low blow, Mando.”

Din scoffs and helps Luke into the speeder again, ignoring him. Tarl sighs, climbs into the pilot seat, and starts the speeder; R2 chirps a greeting at Luke and Din, glad to see them again. “The temple, then?”

“No, the flower shop,” Din answers. Luke turns to him in surprise. Tarl just nods, and he and R2 begin navigating to pull away into traffic again once Din is settled. Din rests his hand on Luke’s knee during the ride, and Luke spends a majority of it biting his bottom lip and trying not to focus too much on the warm weight of his palm.

Soon they’re outside of Naberrie Blooms, the sun orange and low in the sky, previously hidden while they were in Uscru. Din offers Luke a steady hand while he steps down from the speeder; R2 rocks in place until Luke rolls his eyes and uses the Force to lift him out. 

“You good from here?” Tarl asks, turning around in his seat. When Din nods, he grins and turns forward. “Night, fellas! You too, copilot!”

R2 beeps back at him as Tarl pulls away, leaving them alone in the light foot traffic outside of Luke’s shop. After a moment, Din turns to Luke.

“I - apologize for Leysa,” he starts, tone embarrassed. “She can be - intense.”

Luke laughs. “People tend to say that about me, too.” Din shifts his weight, helmet dipping down, and Luke nudges the edge of Din’s helmet up with his knuckles. “You have nothing to apologize for. She seems great.” Luke trails his thumb along the line of Din’s helmet like he wanted to earlier and steps closer. “You talk about me with her?”

Din huffs, tilting his visor away from Luke. “She’s exaggerating.”

“Is she?”

Din turns his attention back to Luke. “You’re - I’ve told you how I see you,” he says, voice gruff and clearly embarrassed. “I just - told her about you, once.”

Luke feels a flush climb up his neck as his smile spreads. “Just once?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you tell her about how you see me?”

Din huffs again and touches Luke’s wrist, his thumb pressing against his pulse. “You’re seeking compliments, Jedi.”

Luke laughs, feeling weightless. “Maybe I just like to hear that you’re talking about me.”

“Should I not?” Din asks, carefully, and Luke shakes his head.

“As long as it’s all good things,” Luke teases gently, thumb moving up to the dip in Din’s beskar cheek. Din’s chuckle is soft through his modulator. 

“Always,” he answers, and Luke can’t help but lean forward to press his lips next to where his thumb is. Din inhales sharply, and Luke steps back. 

“Let’s start for the temple,” Luke says. “Artoo is getting impatient.”

Said traitorous droid beeps that he has had much longer to develop his patience than Luke and absolutely doesn’t mind reminding him about it. Luke grins and grabs Din’s hand. “Ignore him, his motherboard is frying.”

Din huffs a laugh. “Is that what that is?”

“Sure; he’s going to start glitching on repeat soon, it’ll be a hilarious disaster,” Luke says, laughing over R2’s pissy beeping. 

They fall into step easily, Din squeezing Luke’s hand before he lets go so he can grab the bag from Luke’s other hand. Luke puts up a brief fuss before relenting; if Din wants to carry it for him, he won’t fight him on it.

“Half of that is for you anyway,” Luke says once Din has the bag. “For you and your son.” He pauses before continuing. “Leysa didn’t charge me for any of that, either; she said you’re never charged when you go there.”

Din hums, glancing down into the bag before settling it in the satchel against his side. “I helped her and her sister get out of a bad situation.” Luke turns to him, curious.

“What happened?” 

Din hesitates for a moment, helmet tilting. Luke walks beside him quietly, patiently. “They were slaves. I bought them and freed them.”

Luke’s mouth falls open. “Are you serious?” When Din just nods, Luke runs a hand through his hair and mutters a curse under his breath. “That’s terrible; I’m glad you were able to help them.”

“They were just kids,” Din continues, softly. “I couldn’t leave them. That was almost a decade ago.”

R2 leisurely rolls ahead of them as they continue, beeping a joyful tune. Luke loops his arm with Din’s and presses into his side, suddenly wanting to be closer to him. “No, you couldn’t. Now they’re here, running a sweets shop in the heart of Galactic City, and it sounds like they were happy to see you when you wandered back into their lives.”

“Of all the sweets shops in the galaxy,” Din agrees, tone kind, bringing a smile to Luke’s lips. As if he didn’t think he could love Din more, he’s happy to stand corrected. 

“I’m going to make sure they get a contract with the Jedi Temple.”

Din huffs a laugh. “If they find out it’s because you, Leysa may not let them pay.”

“Then it won’t be me,” Luke confirms. “I’ll send Ahsoka or my uncle - that man certainly has a favor or two I need to call in.”

Din nudges their shoulders together. “Does he?”

“Yes, it’s because of his suggestion that Ahsoka and I are working with the younglings over the next few cycles,” Luke grouses, still smiling. “I really don’t mind - I think it’s going to be fun - but he did offer my time without asking, so it’s the least I can do to return the favor.”

They fall into companionable silence after, weaving between the thin crowd of people on their way to the temple. The crowd is a far cry from the Uscru district, which Luke appreciates - he can see R2 ahead of them without issue, and can comfortably walk arm-in-arm next to Din.

“Did you have a good time, Luke?” Din asks quietly a few minutes later. Luke smiles at him and nods.

“I did - but for the sake of my reputation, don’t tell Ahsoka I lost at the firing range,” Luke says with a wry grin. “She’ll never let me live it down.”

Din hums. “Does that mean I get my question?”

“Whenever you want,” Luke agrees easily. “I’ll answer whatever you want.”

Din pauses, slowing them down. Luke whistles at R2 to get him to stop, the droid spinning around abruptly and beeping in alarm. Din tilts his visor towards him, and Luke holds his breath in anticipation. “...I think I’ll save it for later.”

Luke barks a laugh, pulse racing. “Oh, you’re going to hold this over me, aren’t you?”

“Time will tell, cyar’ika.”

Luke, still grinning, leans into Din’s side when they start walking again. “What does that mean, anyway?”

Din presses his temple against Luke’s hair and hums. “Ask me again sometime.”

Chapter Text

Luke somehow manages to oversleep in the morning; he can’t believe he’s slept through the alarm on his chronometer and R2’s increasingly shrill beeps, but he managed it. He absolutely knows why - after Din had walked him to the temple the night before, he couldn’t stop thinking about Din’s arms around him at the firing range - and it led to him twisting his blankets snug around himself while asleep, directly translating to a dream where the sheets were replaced with Din. 

Luke couldn’t even really be mad at himself. It was a damn fine dream.

R2 beeps that they’re gonna be so late at this point they may as well just not show up and take a sick day. Luke shushes him while he rushes through brushing his hair and teeth and washing his face.

“Artoo, we have to go in, there’s no way around it. Then we have to come back so I can help with the younglings,” Luke murmurs, throwing on the first thing he got a hand on in his closet - a black tunic with a deep v-neck. He curses when he realizes he forgot an undershirt and catches just a hint of his scars peeking under the black linen, but he really hasn’t got the time. It stops just a few inches beneath his clavicle, so hopefully he doesn’t run into another Master that may comment on it.

Ugh, he is going to be so tired today, he can feel it.

He’s trying to pull his leggings and boots on at the same time when his chronometer rings for a transmission. Luke groans but answers when he checks the ID, turning on only the voice.

“Morning, Ahsoka!” He calls with mock cheer, stomping his heel down into his right boot. No time for his usual polishing routine - but hopefully no one notices. “What can I do for you this lovely morning?”

“Where are you?” She asks, tone curious. “I’ve been waiting down here forever.”

Luke rolls his eyes and hops in place while he finishes pulling up his leggings. He really doubts that. “Be there momentarily!”

Ahsoka is quiet for a beat, and really, had Luke not been otherwise occupied, he would have been suspicious. “...are you even in the temple right now?”

Luke’s hands fumble on his belt. “Where would I be, Ahsoka?” He asks, keeping his tone intentionally innocent. Snippets of his dream flood back into his mind, reminding him very clearly where he would certainly rather be.

“Somewhere else with a certain someone,” she answers, voice low and teasing, and Luke’s face immediately flames. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Luke sighs; words really can’t describe how absolutely disappointed he is, which is likely more than enough for both of them and probably the entire galaxy. He cinches his belt and cuffs his sleeves, attaching his lightsaber hilt to its clip. “But it’s nothing exciting; I overslept.”

Ahsoka hums at him. “Overslept, huh?”

Luke rolls his eyes again. “Yes.”

“You haven’t overslept since your Trials.”

“I know, Ahsoka,” Luke murmurs. He takes quick stock of himself - leggings, tunic, belt, lightsaber - and quickly nods. R2’s frantic beeping has increased but Luke tuned him out when he answered Ahsoka’s call. “It’s hard to believe, but it does happen. I’ll be down in a few minutes; I’m practically out the door.”

“I guess Mando wore you out, huh?”

The toe of Luke’s boot clips the edge of his couch and he scarcely has time to catch himself on R2 before hitting the floor. He absolutely doesn’t have the brainpower to lament the new scuff on his boot - he’s immediately picturing a very different end to their competition at the firing range: Din’s arms tight around Luke’s waist, wide palms under his tunic and hot across the bare skin of his back, and Luke’s arms and legs locked around him - 

“Ahsoka!” He snaps, voice too high and strangled and entirely telling - his face is so flushed he just falls to his ass in defeat. There is no way he can risk running into someone in the halls right now; his heart is pounding and he can’t seem to catch his breath. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she says gleefully, clearly not meaning an ounce of it. “I just didn’t see you at dinner last night, so I might have assumed you weren’t in the temple.”

Luke sighs and leans his forehead against the arm of his couch, willing his racing pulse to calm. For someone so supportive of his new relationship, Luke swears she’s trying to kill him. “No, he walked me back and Artoo and I came right up here. I needed to check on the lilies, so I had dinner sent up.”

“Or you were just trying to avoid me,” she teases. Luke raises his eyebrows and grins.

“That, too,” he snarks, and Ahsoka laughs. Luke runs a hand through his hair and grimaces - he’s nearly left without his glove; he blames Ahsoka - but R2 is there, holding it out with his little grapple claw. Luke smiles gratefully at him and takes it, pulling it on. “Thanks, Artoo.”

R2 beeps that someone has to keep an eye on him, otherwise he might wander around Galactic City half-naked. Luke sticks his tongue out at him; Ahsoka, clearly having heard the droid, snickers.

“Well, hurry down, Luke - they’re going to stop serving here soon.”

Luke rolls his eyes and smirks. “Yes, Master Tano; whatever you say, Master Tano.” He hangs up on Ahsoka’s laughter and pulls himself to his feet. His eyes settle on the box of pastries he got for them all yesterday; he throws on his robes and scoops the box up, then leaves with R2 on his heels.

“Artoo, not a word of yesterday to Ahsoka, do you hear me?” He says, cutting his eyes to the little droid at his side. “No matter how much she asks, not a single beep from you.”

R2 beeps a long tone, the binary equivalent of a sigh, and agrees. Luke smiles at him and pats his dome.

Ahsoka is leaning against the wall just outside of the dining room when they arrive. She straightens when she sees them, a large grin on her face.

“Look at that, Little Skyguy, you made it after all,” she teases, lightly punching Luke’s shoulder. Her eyes take in his appearance slowly, then fall to the box in Luke’s hand. “You sure are showing a lot of skin today; whatcha got there?”

Luke rolls his eyes at her, ignoring the first part of her comment and the flush stealing up his neck. “Pastries, for you and Uncle Ben,” he answers. “I got these yesterday.”

Ahsoka takes the box from him and looks through the clear plastic lid, humming with delight. “These look amazing. Where are they from?”

“Jixuan Treats in Uscru,” he says. Ahsoka looks thoughtfully up at him. 

“I didn’t know there was more to Uscru than clubs and criminals.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Luke agrees. “But there’s a sweets shop there, it’s run by Twi’lek sisters, and they make it all themselves.” Ahsoka hands the box back with an interested hum and jerks her chin towards the entrance. Luke and R2 fall into step beside her.

“Artoo, take this and grab us a table, would you?” He says; R2 agrees and carefully takes the box from Luke before rolling away. Luke watches him go for a moment before turning back to Ahsoka. “I’d like to see if the Council would agree to a contract with them.”

“Most of the food is prepared on-site, Luke, you know that.”

“Yes, but this would support a local business and the younglings would love it,” Luke counters. “Truly, it’s no different than the Council ordering flowers from me when there’s an important event.”

Ahsoka laughs. “It is different - you’re already a Jedi. No review or vetting required.”

“And Leysa and her sister overcame a lot to be here; I’d like to partner with them,” he says. They step up to the serving line at the back of the dining hall and Luke passes Ahsoka a tray. “Whether the Council agrees to it or not, I’ll be giving them business from my shop.”

Ahsoka takes the tray and sighs, a smile pulling on her lips. “You know, if you were on the Council you could just make the call yourself.” She holds her hands up placatingly at the look Luke shoots her. “Alright, let me taste it, then I’ll decide.”

Luke beams at her. “That’s all I ask.”

Once they’re seated - Luke with tea and fruit and nutrient bars, Ahsoka with warm oatmeal and tea - Ahsoka pulls the box towards her. She glances at Luke’s tray as he starts peeling his juicemelon carefully. “Why do you always get the same thing?”

“I don’t,” he answers simply. “Juicemelon is one of my favorites and it’s in season right now; you know I hate these bars.”

“I take it you can’t stick around?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll eat this then take the woodchips with me. I’m really too late as it is, but I want to see what you think.”

Ahsoka nods, flipping the lid up. “Well, these certainly smell great.”

Luke smiles. “The orange one is namana.”

The white marks on Ahsoka’s forehead raise. “You don’t say - should we save that one for Kenobi?”

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s his favorite.”

“That’s sneaky of you, Master Skywalker.”

“Just playing to my strengths.”

Ahsoka hums and keeps her eyes down on the box, looking between the four pastries and tapping her chin. Ultimately she selects the pastry with dark pink jelly, lifting it out and resealing the lid. She sets it on her tray and takes a sip of her tea. “Which is this?”

“Muja,” Luke answers, cutting his juicemelon into bite sized squares. “It’s subtly sweet; you’ll like it.”

“Do you know all of this because you bought these, or is this another hobby?” Ashoka asks, grinning over the rim of her mug at him.

Luke laughs and shakes his head at her. “Well, I just like to know what I’m buying before I buy it.”

“Naturally,” she answers, setting her mug down. “Where did you find these, anyway? You don’t make a habit of being in Uscru.”

Luke hesitates for a moment, popping a piece of juicemelon into his mouth as a distraction. Ahsoka waits patiently while he chews. “You know those things... Mando - trades me for flowers? The chocolate?” When Ahsoka nods, he continues: “This is the shop they’re from.”

Ahsoka’s eyes light up and a broad grin spreads over her face. “Did he take you on a date to the candy shop he gets your chocolate from?”

The way Ahsoka says it brings a light flush to Luke’s face; his fingers fidget on the fork in his hand. “Yes?”

She claps her hands together loudly, startling Luke, and turns to R2. “Isn’t that adorable, Artoo? What’s it like, you were there, weren’t you?”

R2 grumbles that he was kicked out the second they walked in, but the place looked nice enough. Ahsoka laughs at him and pats his dome. “Poor thing, I’m sorry you were kicked out.”

Luke rolls his eyes and pops another cube in his mouth, face still hot. “Are you going to try it or what?”

Ahsoka grins at him again. “Patience, Master Skywalker.”

“What’s that I’m hearing? Is a Skywalker being impatient?”

Luke takes in a deep breath and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh great, here we go.”

Ahsoka laughs at him and looks up at Obi-Wan, now standing next to R2, with his hands folded in his sleeves and a twinkle in his eyes. Luke sighs heavily; if he thought he was late before, he’s definitely not opening the shop on time now.

“Good morning, young ones,” Obi-Wan says as he takes the empty seat to Luke’s right. Luke nods at him and Ahsoka chirps a greeting in return. Obi-Wan’s eyes settle on Luke, and he knows what his uncle is about to say before he says it. “Where is your tunic undershirt, Master Skywalker?” 

“Luke overslept and forgot how to dress himself,” Ahsoka teases, grinning when Luke lightly kicks her under the table.

Obi-Wan hums and strokes his beard. “Interesting. You haven’t overslept since the morning of your Trials.”

Luke groans and slumps in his seat. “Why is everyone choosing to remind me of that today? It wasn’t like this was on purpose!”

Obi-Wan nods magnanimously. “Of course.” His eyes turn towards the box next to Ahsoka, smoothly shifting topics. “What have we got here?”

“Luke brought us treats back from his date last night,” Ahsoka says, and Luke presses his lips together when Obi-Wan turns to him, eyebrows raising.

“Is that so?” His uncle asks, tone suspiciously light. “That was thoughtful of you, Luke.”

Luke drops his eyes back to his juicemelon, feeling more than a little caught. “I wanted to share it with the two of you.”

“Did you have a good time?”

Luke cuts his eyes over to his uncle, curious about Obi-Wan’s expression. He’s calm and appears genuinely interested in what Luke will say. Luke relaxes; after the last conversation he had had about Din with Obi-Wan, he had become more than apprehensive. He couldn’t help but wonder if his uncle had volunteered him with the younglings to limit his time with Din, but now he thinks better of it.

Luke offers him a small smile and uncrosses his arms. “I did.”

Obi-Wan returns it. “I’m glad, nephew.” 

Ahsoka smiles at them, taking a sip of her tea, and nudges the box over to Obi-Wan. “Have you eaten, Master?”

Obi-Wan nods but looks down into the clear flimsi of the box. “I have, but I may need to make an exception for these. They look delightful. Where did you get them?”

“Jixuan Treats in Uscru,” Luke and Ahsoka say together, and Luke grins over at her. Obi-Wan raises a brow at them both.

“You seem eager,” he observes, and Luke shrugs. 

“I’ve just had other things from there before, so I know you’re going to love it,” Luke deflects. Obi-Wan glances at Ahsoka and lifts the lid off the box. 

“Ah, the chocolate, that’s right,” his uncle murmurs, and Luke’s jaw drops; he shoots a suspicious look at Ahsoka and R2.

“Alright, which one of you was it this time?” Ahsoka clears her throat and takes another sip of her tea, and R2 just trills his laugh at him. Luke rolls his eyes and turns back towards Obi-Wan with a resigned sigh. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

Ahsoka pats the back of his hand still on the table and smiles at him. “We’re just invested, Luke - no harm meant, I promise.”

R2 cuts in to add that Luke and Din are disgustingly adorable when they’re staring at each other, it almost gums up his gears with how sweet it is, so he has to talk to someone about it. Luke presses his lips into a thin line and nudges R2 sharply with the toe of his boot under the table, trying to shush him.

“Din?” R2 seems to realize his slip-up at the sound of Ahsoka’s curious voice, and trills an apology. Luke sighs and looks back over at her, feeling Obi-Wan’s attention on him as well. “He always just told me to call him ‘Mando’.”

“When he told me his name,” Luke starts, eyes down on his tray again. “It seemed - significant. Like he wasn’t used to providing it.” He runs his nails along the edge of his plate. “It doesn’t feel like something I should share for him.”

Obi-Wan makes an inquisitive sound next to him. “That is unusual for a Mandalorian; they are typically proud of their culture and clans, and want to ensure you know who you’re dealing with.”

Luke shrugs his shoulders. “It wasn’t like he’s not proud of it, it seemed more like - he was offering an afterthought.”

“Or maybe he’s just shy and flustered and forgot to give you his name sooner,” Ahsoka drawls, and Obi-Wan chuckles. Luke bites his lip against a smile and feels his face flush.

“Maybe,” he answers, quietly, and R2 beeps gently at him to get his attention. When he looks over, R2 is still apologetically chagrined but reminds him of the time. Luke curses and looks down at his chronometer, taking a hasty gulp of his tea. “I can’t stay, I’m so sorry - I need to go.”

“What about the pastries?” Ahsoka asks, gesturing to her still untouched treat. Luke shoves a few more juicemelon cubes into his mouth and starts to stand.

“Can’ s’ay,” he says, speech muffled while he chews. He flaps his hand at the two of them while he chases the juicemelon with the rest of his tea. “E’joy.”

Obi-Wan chuckles again and looks back down at the three pastries left, choosing the one with namana jam on the top - exactly what Luke had been hoping for. “Thank you for this, Luke. It was very thoughtful, and won’t go to waste.”

Luke nods quickly and swallows his juicemelon. “Ahsoka, can you fill him in for me, please?”

She offers a lazy salute and takes another sip of her tea, setting the mug down. “Yes, Little Skyguy. I’ll see you later; better be ready to tackle these younglings with me!”

Luke grins and nods again, dropping a hand to Obi-Wan’s shoulder and giving him a brief squeeze. “I’m looking forward to it. C’mon, Artoo, let’s go.”

He offers one more wave and takes his tray with him, shoving the nutrient bars into a pouch on his belt and handing off the rest of the tray to a passing cleaner droid. R2 trails along behind him, beeping for Luke to slow down for a moment. Luke sighs but does, looking down at the astromech when he rolls up to his side. “Artoo, first I’m not going fast enough and now I need to slow down - getting mixed signals here, pal.”

R2 beeps a huff at him and rolls past him, urging Luke to continue walking next to him. He trills another apology about unintentionally giving out Din’s name, and Luke drops his gloved hand to R2’s dome and pats him. “It’s alright, Artoo - you didn’t know. I’ve been using his name around you, anyway, so hopefully he isn’t too upset with us.”

The walk through the temple and into Galactic City is quick, but the rest of the trip to the shop is frenzied; he and R2 dodge a number of strolling humanoids that seem to not be in nearly the same hurry as they are, weaving between pedestrians and slow-moving carts and those with their noses in their datapads, and Luke has to bite back a groan when an older Toydarian stops him to ask that he help him unload a few transport boxes. R2 beeps anxiously next to him, but Luke just nods and agrees; he’s seen the Toydarian almost every cycle for years on his walk to the shop, has never refused helping him in the past, and really doesn’t want to start now.

It doesn’t take very long but it does make Luke over an hour late to open his shop. When they finally walk up to the door, there luckily isn’t anyone waiting for him. R2 lets them in and Luke immediately goes to the break room, peeling off his robes and dropping them on the back of a chair. He could have used the Force to unpack those boxes sooner, but he knows that some Toydarians are distrustful of Force-users after the death of their beloved king during the Clone Wars - even one he’s interacted with countless times.

Luke wets a towel at the sink and wipes off the sweat from his face, neck, and chest. He’s suddenly grateful he had forgotten his undershirt that morning, plucking the end of the collar of his tunic between his fingers and waving it to urge some cooler air against his skin. The WeatherNet confirmed that the day would be a hot one, but Luke really doesn’t understand why a planet that controls their own weather would intentionally begin a heatwave.

After downing half of a bottle of water from the small conservator he keeps under the counter, Luke hears R2 beeping for him to come out. Luke checks his reflection, running a quick hand through his hair, dons his robes again, and steps back out into the shop. He waves the door shut with the Force behind him and goes to greet his guest.

As the day progresses, Luke begins to feel like the Force may be trying to fuck with him. 

The guest R2 called him out to help - a Trandoshan - proceeds to argue with Luke about the arrangement he prepared for her, stating it isn’t anything like what she ordered. Luke calmly shows the order with her signature on his datapad, to which she hisses and nearly slaps the thing out of his hands. Luke tightens his grip and holds his ground, not at all intimidated by her hissing display. Finally she stomps her foot, throws her credits on the counter, and snatches up the vase before storming out. 

R2 rolls out from where he had been hiding behind the counter and rocks for a moment, beeping a snide comment that has Luke humming.

“She was more pleasant when she was here a few cycles ago, I agree.”

The next few pickups are much smoother, his guests satisfied and gushing over Luke’s work. He smiles at them all, thanks them, and sends them on their way. He calls out to R2 that he’s going into cold storage for a few minutes to tidy up, to which the droid beeps back that he’ll come get him should someone else come in.

Luke is hardly in the other room for five minutes when he hears R2 scream - alarmed, Luke drops the tools in his hands with a clatter and sprints back out into the shop. He can feel a second pulse of alarm in the Force and starts towards it. 

R2 meets him halfway, shrieking about a stowaway-turned-wannabe-murderer and tearing down the aisle at top speed. Luke smoothly steps out of his way and continues towards the back of the shop to find a blue and purple Kowakian monkey-lizard tucked deep between the shelves around the orchids, wielding a vibroblade in its clawed hands. Luke, somehow unable to find it in himself to be surprised by the sight, sighs and crouches down to be level with the little thing, holding out his gloved hand.

“Come on, now, you don’t belong here. I’ll help get you home,” he says, crooking his fingers. The Kowakian’s beady little eyes blink at him; it starts to hold the vibroblade out slowly, and Luke smiles reassuringly. 

“Ah!” Luke hisses and snatches his hand back; the Kowakian titters shrilly at him. He looks at his hand, the cut shallow and on the pad of his index finger, and smears away a drop of blood. Luke sighs and looks back at the chattering Kowakian, its tone turning more and more hysterical. It’s clearly terrified. “You can’t stay there, little one. I guess I’ll have to get you out another way.”

Luke holds his hand out again, this time calling the Force to him and reaching out to the Kowakian. It gasps and drops the vibroblade when the Force closes lightly around it, squirming, and Luke sighs. Just as he starts to urge the little thing forward so he can get a hand on it, something slams into his back and causes him to stumble forward and lose his concentration. 

The Kowakian monkey-lizard squeaks and scampers away, somehow managing to not knock over a single potted plant in its desperate scramble. R2 beeps in alarm that the Kowakian is getting away, why isn’t Luke doing anything!? Luke sighs and rubs the small of his back where R2 smacked into him, the Kowakian already out of sight. “I was doing something , Artoo - help me find it again, come on.”

Luke stands up and reaches out with the Force, but he needn’t have to - the Kowakian lets out a deafening cry and launches itself onto Luke’s shoulders, claws wrapping up large fistfuls of his hair for purchase and pulling. He curses in surprised pain and swats uselessly over his shoulder, the Kowakian dodging him, while R2 spins in a panicked circle and adds his shrieks to the cacophony of noise assaulting Luke’s ears.

Luke just wants to go back to sleep.

Luke reaches back with his gloved hand and finally manages to get a grasp in the fur around its neck, tugging gently to try to dislodge it; the Kowakian just pulls harder on his hair in retaliation and squeaks louder.

“Alright, I’m done with this,” Luke murmurs, freezing the Kowakian with the Force before reaching back with his other hand and gently grabbing the Kowakian around its chest. The thing squeaks again but is secure; Luke lets go of the purple fur and instead manages to work its fingers out of his hair, sighing with relief. He carefully lifts it over his head and brings it level with his eyes, and all noise in the shop ends abruptly.

No longer shrouded in the shadows around the orchids, Luke can see the poor thing is dirty and scrawny, and likely a stray. Luke checks over for injuries, surprised at how docile the Kowakian has turned, and finds that it is female.

“Are you alright, little one?” Luke asks softly, and the Kowakian flinches. “Can you speak?”

She haltingly shakes her head. Luke hums and looks at R2, who has been too silent once Luke got his hands on the Kowakian. “Artoo, watch the shop, please.”

R2 beeps in alarm, wanting to know what Luke is going to do. Luke starts towards the break room and pauses to look over his shoulder. “Giving her a bath and food, Artoo. Can you handle the front?”

R2 snaps back that the little demon tried to kill them both, and has Luke really lost his mind? Luke rolls his eyes and opens the break room door. “I’m not going to let her starve, Artoo; watch the front, please.”

R2 rolls behind him, hot on his heels, saying he’s going to get Master Kenobi to come down and talk some sense into him if he doesn’t stop.

“The front, Artoo!”

Luke shuts the door behind him on R2’s protesting wails, clicking his tongue. “Ignore him, he’s just sore that you surprised him. He’ll come around.”

The Kowakian is calm while Luke bathes her with warm water and hand soap; he’s careful around her eyes and snout and runs gentle fingers through the tangles in her purple fur until they’re gone. She snuggles down into the towel Luke dries her off with and sits comfortably on the counter, eyes tracking his every movement. Luke smiles slightly, tucking the towel more securely around her, before peeking into the conservator for a bottle of water. He unscrews the cap and hands it over, and the Kowakian immediately starts chugging; Luke drops a palm to the bottle and tuts.

“Slow,” he says gently, and the Kowakian blinks gold eyes back at him but listens to him on her next sip. Luke smiles and turns away for a moment, rifling around for a small bacta patch for his finger. Once the patch is secure, the Kowakian finishes the bottle of water and Luke hands her one of the nutrient bars left over from his meal with Ahsoka and Obi-Wan; it’ll have to do until he orders lunch in another hour or so. She starts to attack the bar with the same intensity as the water, but slows when Luke raises his eyebrows at her.

Once the nutrient bar is gone and another bottle of water is in front of her, Luke sits down in a chair and faces the counter while he slips his glove back on. “You can understand me, can’t you?”

After a moment, the Kowakian nods. 

“But you do not speak.”

She shakes her head. Luke taps the cleft in his chin with his thumb and tentatively reaches out to her in the Force.

Can you hear me? He asks directly to her mind, tentatively, and the Kowakian lets out a shriek and covers her face with the towel. Luke stands and soothes her with a hand on her back, stroking his fingers through the damp purple fur sticking out from the towel. “I’m sorry, little one. I won’t do that again.”

She slowly looks up at him, gold eyes bright and trusting, and Luke smiles softly. “Do you have a name?” She slowly shakes her head. “Do you have a home?” She hesitates, and something tells Luke that she may have at one point, but she shakes her head again. 

Luke knows Obi-Wan and R2 are going to be extremely disappointed with him, but he’s already made up his mind. “How would you like to stay with me, then?”

The Kowakian’s eyes brighten further, clearly with disbelief. Luke finds his smile growing. “I’m not sure how you got in here, little one, but clearly the Force brought you here for a reason, and I believe I can help you. If you’re alright with it, you can stay with me.”

There’s a brief pause where the Kowakian doesn’t move, doesn’t even seem to breathe; then she throws the towel back from her shoulders and launches herself at Luke, wrapping thin arms around his neck in a tight hug. Luke laughs, delighted, and tucks his arm under her to pull her to his chest, patting her back with his gloved hand. “We’ll just need to cut back on the vibroblade slinging, and you’ll fit right in.”

She chitters into his neck, and Luke feels remorse in the Force. He rubs his thumb around her small shoulders and hums. “That’s alright, little one, I forgive you; I’m the one who startled you, after all.”

She still clings around Luke’s neck when he walks back out to the shop, much to R2’s alarm and dismay. He accuses her of trying to choke Luke, wiping out his little taser, but Luke just waves him off. “Easy, Artoo - she’s harmless. She’s, ah, also going to be staying with us from now on.”

R2 immediately shakes his dome with clear dismisal and says he’s absolutely not about that life, no thank you. Luke shushes him with a grin, the Kowakian’s gold eyes trailing R2 as he spins in tight circles. “It’s okay, she’s sorry for all that. It was just a misunderstanding, Artoo, nothing to be worried about.” He looks at the Kowakian and smiles. “Why don’t you stay with Artoo for a bit and clear the air? I just need to clean up the mess I left in cold storage.”

She looks distrustful but climbs down from Luke to stand in front of R2, looking up at the droid that’s easily several feet taller than her. She’s certainly small for a Kowakian monkey-lizard; Luke wonders if she may have been a runt, or if it’s just a side-effect from being a stray and living on scraps. R2 lets out an unsure beep, but Luke gestures between them. “Make friends, Artoo.”

R2 lets out a long, groaning beep in protest but relents. Luke pats his dome and strokes the edge of the Kowakian’s ear before heading back to cold storage. The mess of tools he dropped are still where he left them, but they take little time to put away. He rotates orders to put the ones with the soonest pickup date at the front, mentally noting he should have a few more guests come by before he closes, and waves some stray leaves and petals into the compost chute with the Force. 

Satisfied, he leaves cold storage and walks out to see the Kowakian sitting cross-legged on the top of R2’s dome, the droid pleasantly beeping away at her while she chitters back at him. Luke smiles and leans his hip against the counter - it seems all is already forgiven. He watches them for a moment before turning away to the back of the shop to collect the vibroblade from where his new stowaway dropped it, and puts it away in the break room.

Thankfully, the next hour passes with minimal fuss - orders are picked up and placed, and Luke sighs when he sees how much work he now has ahead of him around the same time as the Rodian wedding; perhaps he can teach the Kowakian how to help trim stems and wrap flimsi. He eventually orders lunch for himself and the Kowakian, mulling over suggestions for names as they eat.

“Sherbet?” Luke offers, looking at the bits of sherbet fruit in his salad. The Kowakian grimaces at him.

“Honey?” She shakes her head vehemently, causing Luke and R2 to laugh. Luke takes a bite and chews while he thinks, watching the Kowakian slowly work through her sliced fruit and jerky. Luke only had to remind her to slow down once.

He looks over her purple fur, a beautiful contrast to her light blue skin and black face and snout, and thinks of a blue and violet lily he hasn’t seen in a long time. “Kelari.”

The Kowakian looks up at him, her gold eyes alert. Luke raises his eyebrows at her. “Do you like that one - Kelari? It’s the name of a type of lily. I’ll show it to you sometime.”

She seems to turn the name over in her mind before eventually nodding. Luke beams at her and offers his left hand. “Kelari it is, then. Nice to meet you - I’m Luke.”

Kelari titters at him, her wide mouth pulling into a smile of her own, and gently shakes Luke’s hand in return. R2 beeps and rocks beside him, and Luke grins at him. “Yes, and this is Artoo. We’re both glad you found your way in here, Kelari.”

Despite the fun the new addition of Kelari is, the next few visitors is similar to the first ornery guest - he’s not had so much trouble in such a long time that he’s starting to wonder if someone is pulling a prank on him. Kelari hisses at the back of one particularly aggressive Rodian, and R2 promptly escorts them out, flicking his little taser out when the Rodian doesn’t move fast enough. Luke just shakes his head when the bell chimes to announce their departure, and leans against the counter. Kelari pets soothing fingers over his hair from her perch on his shoulder, and R2 huffs a haughty beep.

“I don’t know what has gotten into Galactic City today, but I would appreciate it if they wouldn’t take it out on my flowers,” Luke grouses, and Kelari and R2 chirp their agreement. “Must be something in the water.”

Finally, after what feels like ages, the Force sings with a presence that Luke is more than happy to feel. The bell happily jingles Din’s arrival, beskar shining brightly in the light like a beacon, and Luke nearly sags in relief.

“Din, I’m so glad to see you,” Luke greets, stepping around the counter to meet him. Din turns towards him and pauses. 

“There’s something on you, Luke,” he answers, and Luke pauses, brow furrowing. He glances down at himself, unsure what Din is referring to, then looks back at him. 

“I’m - not following?”

Din levels an unimpressed look at him. “There’s a pest on you.”

Kelari huffs and tightens the arm she has around Luke’s neck, her tail flicking in annoyance. Luke laughs. “No, this is Kelari. I’m actually glad you’re here to meet her.”

“We’ve met,” Din deadpans. Luke gapes at him, confused.

“How is that even possible?”

“This is the Kowakian monkey-lizard I had to barter with for your comlink flower,” Din replies, and Luke tosses his head back with a loud bark of laughter. He turns to look at Kelari, who does look suitably chastised and sheepish, and tries to catch her eyes.

“Kelari, did you hold my lorchad hostage from Din?” Kelari trills and shrugs, suddenly more interested in her little claws than meeting Luke’s eyes, and Luke laughs again. R2 beeps his laughter from the other side of the shop where he’s on the scout for fallen petals. “I suppose this city isn’t so big, after all.”

“What’s the story, then?” Din asks, stepping closer to Luke and taking his hand. Luke feels his heart flutter and meets Din’s forehead with his own when he leans towards him. Kelari shuffles on his shoulder, but doesn’t interrupt. Luke brings his other hand up and traces the edge of Din’s helmet with his thumbnail.

“Oh, just the usual breaking and entering, vibroblade fight, and frantic chase scene,” Luke answers, grinning when Din chuckles softly at him. “Nothing unusual, just getting in my warmup for the younglings.”

“And now you have a pet,” Din concludes, pulling back to look at Luke.

“Now I have a pet,” Luke agrees, chuckling when Kelari nuzzles her snout into his cheek. “She’s very sweet. I think she may have had a home before, but it seems like she’s been on her own for a while now.”

Din brings his hand up and strokes the back of his gloved fingers over Luke’s cheek, the action soft and affectionate; it sends a warmth through Luke that makes his eyes flutter shut. “Do you make it a habit to adopt strays?”

“Only the ones I can’t stand to be without,” he answers, opening his eyes and looking at Din meaningfully. Din hums and guides Luke’s forehead back to meet his, and Luke presses firmly against him with his heart in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut.

Kelari chitters and jumps from Luke’s shoulder, and Luke takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around Din’s shoulders, holding him closer. “I’m so glad to see you,” he repeats with a sigh. “Kelari aside, today has been lacking.”

Din hums and drops his hands to Luke’s hips, fingers flexing for a moment before he snakes his arms around Luke beneath his robes and tugs on him gently. Luke sighs again and steps forward, deeper into the cradle of Din’s embrace, and shifts to rest his chin over Din’s shoulder. “Tell me.”

Luke huffs a laugh. “I’ve been behind all day - I, ah, overslept, which is unusual for me - and it seems like anything that could go wrong today has. But you’re here now.” He closes his eyes and tightens his arms around Din’s shoulders, feeling Din echo the action. “I always feel better with you.”

“I’m glad,” Din murmurs, and Luke feels the vibration of his voice in his chest. It’s comforting but sparks his pulse and shortens his breathing. It isn’t lost on Luke that he’s practically standing in his dream, Din’s strong arms tight and comforting around him, and Luke wants to melt against him and never let go.

Luke pushes a suggestion into the Force for no one to enter the shop for a bit, desperate for more time with Din - he can’t be held responsible for how he may react if they’re interrupted.

They stay there for long minutes, and Luke is so happy he feels like a supernova; Din eventually starts to sway them in place as his palms slide up Luke’s back, leaving fire in their wake, and Luke shivers. His hands start their telltale trembling when the movement shifts his arms and reminds him he isn’t wearing an undershirt - the skin of his chest and clavicle press into warmed beskar, the sensation entirely new, and steals his breath. Luke lets out a shuddering sigh and clutches fistfuls of Din’s cape, suddenly unable to catch his breath again on an inhale, and Din’s hands still on his back. 

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly, his voice deep and directly in Luke’s ear, and Luke shivers again. “You’re shaking.”

“This is what happens,” Luke confesses, breathless words pressed to Din’s cowl. “I can’t - your voice, your hands, your everything - this is what you do to me.” He manages to take a breath that’s more of a gasp and nudges his nose against Din’s neck beneath the edge of his helmet. One of Din’s hands slides up his back and into his hair through the collar of his robes, pulling Luke impossibly closer. “I can’t seem to think about anything but you and when you’re not there I - ache, Din. I overslept this morning because I had a dream you were holding me just like this and -”

Din’s arm around his waist tightens and the edge of his helmet presses into his hair. “You dream about me?” His voice is deeper and telling, starting a simmer in Luke’s blood.

Hesitantly, Luke nods, his heart hammering. Din lets out a hard exhale that crackles his modulator. “Dank farrik, cyar’ika, I -” He cuts himself off, his tone choked like he wants to say more, but instead he slides his fingers through Luke’s hair again and tugs; Luke swears he feels a thundering heartbeat that isn’t his own in his chest.

“Can we stay like this for a little longer?” Luke asks quietly.

“Anything you want,” Din answers hoarsely, and Luke bites his lip against a whine.

Unfortunately, R2 chooses right that very second to hesitantly beep from the aisle of flowers he’s in that they have a transport en route that will arrive in less than half an hour, and Luke sighs in clear frustration. He sags in Din’s arms, and Din pats the back of his head consolingly. “Thanks, Artoo.”

R2 beeps back regretfully that he’s truly sorry, he didn’t want to interrupt them but it’s important. Luke sighs again. “Not your fault, Artoo, you’re not the one dropping off the delivery - it’s just been a long cycle.”

Din slides his hands around to Luke’s shoulders and gently pushes him back; Luke locks his arms for only a moment, prompting a chuckle from Din, before he lets Din guide him away. It’s certainly worth it - Din rests his forehead against Luke’s again with clear affection. Luke keeps his eyes closed and presses back. “I love when you do this,” he breathes.

A fissure of - something - touches Luke in the Force, but it’s gone before he can identify what it is. Din frees his hands from beneath the fabric of Luke’s robes to frame his face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. He clears his throat before asking: “You’re with the younglings later?”

Luke wraps his hands around Din’s vambraces and hums. “I’m thinking I may skip; Ahsoka can handle it.”

Din chuckles softly. “You shouldn’t.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” Luke agrees. “But I do have a new pet to acclimate, and a boyfriend to hang off of.”

“Boyfriend?” Din teases, tone light and satisfied; Luke feels his face flush and clears his throat.

“You are,” he defends, cracking an eye open to peer at Din’s T-visor. “Although, I think I like the term ‘partner’ better. What do you think?”

Din hums, his thumbs still continuing their stroking. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Luke.”

Luke opens his other eye and grins, stomach flipping with joy. “Partners, then.”

Din drops a thumb to the corner of Luke’s smiling lips and presses. “Yes,” he answers simply, and Luke wants to kiss him. Instead, he kisses the tip of his gloved thumb and his beskar cheek. Din lets out a soft exhale and Luke kisses him again. “Keep that up and I’ll never let you answer that delivery.”

Luke grins and sniggers and does it again, just to see what Din will do, yelping with delight when Din’s hands drop back to his waist and pull him flush to his chest. “Careful, Jedi; you’re tempting me,” Din growls, and another shiver runs down Luke’s spine; he swallows.

“I’m not hearing a downside.”

R2 beeps urgently that they’ve got less than fifteen minutes, now, and Luke really should hurry up. Luke drops his head back and groans. “Okay, Artoo, I hear you.” He tilts his head back and kisses Din’s helmet one more time - because he can - and pats his pauldrons. “I have a delivery in fifteen minutes and Artoo is adamant that I see to it.”

“I understand,” Din answers. “Would you...make an arrangement for my son?”

Luke lights up. “I would love to.”

He untangles from Din to jog over to the Queen’s Heart, carefully snipping a few vines, and then to the honeyblossoms to gather a bushel. Din helps him wrap it, the red Queen’s Heart striking next to yellow honeyblossoms and spilling over the top of bright orange flimsi; Luke smiles at the bouquet, softly stroking the little red flowers as Din holds it in the crook of his arm. “Here’s something as vivid as fire.”

Luke doesn’t say it’s inspired by how Din makes him feel, but with the way Din presses his forehead to Luke’s again, he feels he understands. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Din murmurs, the back of his knuckles trailing over Luke’s cheek; Luke grabs his hand and presses it to his face, turning to drop a kiss to his palm.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he answers, and Din firmly presses his forehead against Luke again. They stand there for a moment, and R2 rolls up with Kelari on his dome; he rocks in place desperately, frantically beeping about the transport that will be here any second and Luke really should let Din be on his way so they can take care of it. Luke sighs and rolls his eyes. “I’m being scolded again.”

“Until later, cyar’ika,” Din answers, amusement and fondness clear in his tone, and Luke grins. He watches Din as he walks towards the door, the bell tinkling over him as he steps out - from where Luke is standing, he sees Din hesitate for a moment and offer a nod, stepping to the side and out of the way of a large crate on a hover lift. Luke blinks, impressed with the timing, and looks at R2, who is still nervously rocking in place; Kelari huffs at him in irritation, done with the fidgeting, and jumps up to Luke’s shoulder.

“You weren’t kidding, Artoo - that delivery is exceptionally punctual,” Luke murmurs, steadying Kelari on his shoulder, and then abruptly staggers when a familiar signature slams into him in the Force; Kelari squawks and wraps both of her arms around Luke’s neck to keep her balance.

The delivery person’s face is turned away from Luke, following the direction Din took, and Luke gasps, his eyes widening in alarm. He whips to look at R2 again, his mouth gaping and jaw working uselessly - R2 frantically whistles that he tried to warn him, he did, but the one time he really needed Luke to listen he didn’t want to!

Luke, horrified, tentatively turns back towards the front just as Anakin Skywalker steps through the open door; Luke’s face is immediately on fire - he can tell by his father’s raised eyebrows that he saw everything.

R2 wheels up to meet Luke’s outstretched palm, an answer to his silent request for help so he doesn’t keel over, just as Anakin’s blue eyes meet his. 

Luke abruptly feels like he’s living a railspeeder crash in slow motion.

“Hey there, Sunshine - got something to tell me?”

Chapter Text

Luke thanks the Force that Din made it out unscathed. 

“Hey Dad!” Luke squeaks, voice high and reedy, his fingers clenching on R2’s dome. “It’s so great to see you.”

Anakin steps down into the shop and smiles knowingly, smoothing a hand down his black sweater. “Artoo didn’t tell you I was coming?”

Luke cuts his eyes to R2 right as he beeps, rushing to say that he didn’t know it was Anakin until half an hour ago. He rocks nervously and turns his lens pleadingly to Luke, and Luke believes him. In hindsight and so many beeps, he had been trying to warn Luke to get Din out of there before Anakin showed up, so there’s no way R2 was doing anything other than trying to help. In fact, Luke’s heart warms at the thought. He pats his dome and gives R2 a soft smile. “No, but it’s a wonderful surprise.” R2 visibly relaxes and Luke looks back at Anakin. “I haven’t seen you since Mom came to visit the Senate a few months ago.”

Anakin comes to a stop in front of Luke and smiles at him, his eyes bright and crinkling in the corners. Luke’s father is still fairly young, considering all he has seen and done in his life, and he looks even younger when he smiles. “That’s true, it has been a while.” His eyes cut to Kelari, still clinging to Luke’s neck and watching Anakin with wide eyes, then back to Luke. “Looks like that Mandalorian isn’t the only thing that’s new.”

Luke clutches desperately to the unintended distraction, clearing his throat and hanging on for dear life. “Dad, meet Kelari - Kelari, this is my father, Anakin Skywalker.” He carefully unwraps her arms from around his neck and gestures to Anakin. “Why don’t you two introduce yourselves, and Artoo and I will take care of the transport?” 

Kelari, thankfully picking up on the completely unfiltered distress in his voice, blinks twice and chitters at Luke before jumping over to Anakin’s shoulder, surprising a laugh from him. Luke looks at R2 and quickly jerks his chin towards the front. R2 beeps and follows after him, also clearly eager to beat a hasty retreat.

Once outside, Luke runs one hand after another through his hair and paces in a tight circle, out of view from the door and shop windows. “Artoo, I appreciate what you were trying to do - really, I do - just, next time, specifically tell me that Dad is ten seconds from walking through the door, alright?”

R2 trills sadly and bumps against Luke’s thigh, halting his pacing, and apologizes. Luke sighs and pats the top of his dome. “It’s alright, I’m not mad at you, I promise. I’m glad Din got out of there when he did.” Luke fiddles nervously at the hilt of his lightsaber with his other hand. “I know I was considering seeking guidance from him about all this, but I didn’t mean today.” 

Luke sighs again and waves R2 over to the hover lift. “Come on, let’s get this around the back before Dad decides to interrogate me in the street.”

R2 beeps and rolls over to connect with the hover lift, navigating it down the small alley beside the shop. Luke opens the outside bay door to the storage room and uses the Force to lift the crate into the room; R2 disconnects from the lift and ducks back in, Luke a few feet behind him and pausing to lock the door from the inside.

Anakin is scratching under Kelari’s chin when they step back out into the shop, the Kowakian’s head lolling back into the crook of his arm where he has her cradled to his chest. Luke can’t help but smile; she definitely nailed the job of being a good distraction.

“Tell me about this little one, Luke,” Anakin says as he looks up, pausing his scratching. Kelari flicks her tail until he starts again.

“Artoo found her hiding in the orchids; she got in here somehow, probably behind a guest. Kelari was a stray, so I couldn’t just send her back out there,” Luke answers, stepping closer to his father so he can run a gloved finger between Kelari’s eyes and down her snout; she trills at him. “So she’s going to stay with us now.”

Anakin chuckles, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. “Does Obi-Wan know yet?”

“Nope!” Luke answers with his own grin, popping his lips. “She’s going to be a delightful surprise for him; these two already get along, which is a definite perk.”

“And what does the Mandalorian think?” Anakin innocently asks. 

Luke freezes, then slowly strokes his finger over Kelari’s snout again. He isn’t sure how he wants to answer that question just yet, so he stays silent. Obi-Wan has always told Luke that he has stronger diplomatic skills than Anakin until his snarky mouth gets the better of him, so he just smiles at his father’s expectant expression and folds his hands into the sleeves of his robes. “Do you have time to help me unload that transport?”

Anakin raises both of his eyebrows at Luke, seeing right through him. “I brought that all the way from Naboo so I could see my kids, so I have nothing but time, Sunshine.” 

Luke laughs nervously; unless he wants to avoid Anakin for the foreseeable future, he’ll have to answer him eventually. For now, he opts for intentionally stalling. “Do you want to stay at the temple?”

Anakin blows a raspberry and rolls his eyes. “Force, no - I’d rather risk seeing Han and stay with Leia.” He looks down at Kelari and tugs on the fur around her neck. “I have to stop, darling, your master is putting me to work.”

Kelari opens her eyes and narrows them at Luke, sparking a startled laugh from him, before sighing with a stretch and jumping down from Anakin’s arms. She trots off towards R2, tail high and flicking behind her.

“That’s got to be the calmest Kowakian monkey-lizard I’ve ever been around,” Anakin points out, a note of awe in his voice. “Usually the smaller they are, the nastier.”

“I fear she’s led a hard life,” Luke confesses, watching Kelari climb onto R2’s dome. “I’m glad she found us. It already feels like she’s always been here.”

“Like a certain Mandalorian?” Anakin deadpans, leveling Luke with another expectant expression. Luke sighs heavily, his shoulders drooping - his father never was good at letting things lie. He doesn’t like to be reminded where he inherited his stubbornness from.

“Dad, not right now, please? Can we at least unload the transport? I have to get back to the temple and help with the younglings soon,” Luke begs, keeping his eyes wide and pleading when he looks at his father. Luke only pulls that expression when he really needs something important, and it never fails. This time is no exception. 

Anakin sighs. “Alright, but don’t think we’re done talking about this,” he says. Luke purses his lips and nods, rolling his eyes when he turns his back on Anakin to head back the way he came. His father flicks the back of his head, surprising a yelp from him. “I saw that, Sunshine!”

Luke snickers and leads his father back through the break room and into the store room, locking the doors to remain open as they move the flowers in. Luke opens the lid and hums as he looks in. “Are these all onuumu, or did you bring me something else?”

“Exclusively onuumu for the Rodian wedding; it’s a Skywalker Special Delivery,” Anakin answers with a cheeky grin; Luke snorts a laugh. “Another transport is coming in a few more cycles.” 

“We can just put these away in the loft for now, then.”

Together they guide the various aquatic crates through the shop and into the loft with the Force; the clear crates filled with water and pink and purple blossoms cast ribbons of light and reflective color around the shop. Kelari’s jaw drops open at the display, walking under crates and staring up with wide eyes. Luke grins at her, urging one to float closer to her so she can graze the bottom with clawed fingers. 

It’s effortless work, and over far too soon for Luke’s liking. As he’s resealing the transport crate, Anakin leans his hip against the frame of the open doorway with his arms crossed, effectively blocking Luke’s exit. His eyes flick to the bay door leading to the alley - he’s reasonably sure he could get the door open and be on his way before Anakin pushes himself off the frame - but then he remembers Kelari and R2 waiting for him and bites the inside of his cheek. It wouldn’t be very Jedi of him to ditch them. 

Anakin raises his eyebrows at him.

Luke relents with a sigh. “Let me at least give Artoo the go-ahead to close.”

Anakin grins. “That’s my boy.”

Luke tries not to drag his boots as he walks back out into the shop, informing R2 that they’ll be closing early while he scoops Kelari up in his arms. She purrs at him and nuzzles under his jaw; he holds her close, stroking his fingers through the purple fur around her neck before running his hand through his own hair. “You’re about to see me get annihilated, Kelari; it was nice knowing you.”

She offers him a questioning hum and pushes back to blink her gold eyes at him. Luke puffs out a sigh.

“If you’ve got any advice on telling your dad about your first relationship, I’d love to hear it.”

Kelari just blinks at him again before unhelpfully tucking back under his chin; Luke shrugs, honestly not sure what he was expecting, and walks toward the break room.

Anakin is already sitting comfortably at the small break room table, posture and expression relaxed. Luke heads directly for the conservator and pulls out a bottle of tango fruit juice to offer to Anakin. “Would you like one?”

Anakin nods and Luke hands it to Kelari to take to him; he pulls out another for her and a bottle of water for himself. R2 wheels into the room as Luke sits down across from Anakin, opening Kelari’s bottle and passing it to her. Anakin uncaps his own bottle and takes a draw, and Luke fiddles with the cap still in his hand.

“Can you believe how warm it is today, Father?”

“Feels like Tatooine,” Anakin agrees with a sigh, setting his bottle down.

“Must be nice on Naboo right now.” When Anakin just hums at him, Luke scrambles to buy more time. “How’s Mom?”

“She’s doing great; she’s started a new project, a charity,” Anakin answers. Kelari sips from her bottle, chirping at R2 when he rolls up to the side of the table she’s sitting on. “She’s going to draft something for your sister to pitch it to the Senate soon.” He pauses. “She also says hello, of course.”

“Good, tell her the same,” Luke says, glancing just over his father’s shoulder, thinking. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

“I’ve been wondering how you’re thinking this is working on me,” Anakin teases, a grin lighting up his face. “It’s cute, Luke, really - but you’re not going to distract me.” Luke clears his throat and uncaps his water bottle. Anakin’s grin softens. “I’m not upset, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Some of the tension does leave Luke’s shoulders, tension he didn’t realize he was holding. “I - suppose I was worried about that, a little.”

Anakin chuckles and leans over the table towards Luke, dropping a hand on Luke’s forearm and squeezing. “You know you can never upset me.”

Luke snorts and rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his water. “Pretty sure you were upset when I dumped that entire bucket of Dagobah swamp slug slime over your head.”

“Hard to be upset with youngling Force mischief,” Anakin assures, grinning. “I think Artoo was more upset because he was stuck cleaning it up.”

R2 beeps that Luke is lucky he’d forgotten about that, but he won’t again anytime soon; Kelari giggles at them. Anakin continues to grin at him. “Besides, we absolutely got Obi-Wan pretty good a few cycles later with what was left. He never saw it coming.”

Luke barks a laugh and tosses his head back. “Oh, he was definitely upset.”

“It was great,” Anakin agrees. He squeezes Luke’s forearm again and pulls his hand back, folding his hands together. “Tell me about him, Luke.”

Luke ducks his chin, looking down at the Aurebesh printed on the side of the water bottle’s label. “...I don’t know where to start.”

“How about the beginning?”

“That’s just it, Dad, there doesn’t feel like there is one,” Luke confesses. He looks up at his father, his familiar eyes kind and patient. Luke studies the scar over his eyebrow for a moment, still so vivid, then catches his gaze again. “I feel like I’ve known him - forever.”

Anakin’s eyes soften. “You feel a strong connection with him.” Luke doesn’t hesitate - he nods. “Is it just the Force?”

“Not even close,” Luke says. “Although it helped show me the way. I didn’t think he was even remotely interested in me, but the Force was always there to remind me.”

Anakin rolls his eyes. “As if he wouldn’t be; you inherited my jawline, you’re wonderful.”

Luke huffs a laugh, accepting Anakin’s dry teasing for what it is. “Well, I thought he was here to buy flowers for his partner -”

“Partner?” Anakin asks sharply, tone dark. Luke snaps his jaw shut and raises his eyebrows at his father. His blue eyes blaze, and the room feels a little colder than it was when Luke sat down. “Is this guy stringing you along, Luke?”

“No!” Luke answers, holding both of his hands up. “No, not at all, Dad, I promise.”

“You’re sure?” Anakin grits out.

“Yes, I thought he had a partner, but he was, ah,” Luke clears his throat, suddenly embarrassed. “He was buying flowers for...his son.”

Anakin blinks at him; the room warms again. “He has a son?” Luke nods. “Have you met him yet?”

Luke shakes his head and bites his bottom lip. “Not yet, but he said soon.”

Anakin sits back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you want to? Kids are a big deal, as you know.”

Luke looks down at his hands, now fiddling with both his and Kelari’s bottle caps. “I understand, but I do want to meet his son. I want to know everything about him, Dad,” Luke adds softly. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

Anakin leans forward again, resting his arms on the table. He looks over Luke’s face, eyes searching, and Luke flicks his eyes up to catch his father’s. After a moment, Anakin must find what he’s looking for because a bright grin spreads over his face. “I want to meet him.”

Luke shakes his head sharply. “No, Dad -”

“What? I’m not going to do anything -”

“That’s absolutely not true! I remember you said the same thing before you met Han -”

“Well, Han and I don’t see eye-to-eye, so the conversation naturally got a little heated -”

“Naturally? Threepio had to go in for repairs and Mom cut your trip short!”

“Threepio is nosy and she had meetings to get back to Naboo for, those events were unrelated.”

Luke drops his head back and groans. “Dad, please. I - really like him. Please.”

Anakin huffs and taps his fingers on the table. Kelari chitters and Luke looks back at his father; Anakin is flicking his eyes between Kelari and Luke, then R2, Kelari and Luke, then R2 again, then back to Luke. Luke keeps his eyes wide and pleading, and it only takes Anakin one more cycle through the three of them before he’s sighing and rolling his eyes. “Alright, fine - not today, but I still want to meet him before I go back to Naboo.” 

Luke sighs with relief - he’ll take it - and nods. “That’s fair; I’ll talk to him about it.”

Anakin rests his chin on his fist and twists his lips thoughtfully. “What’s his name?”

Luke opens his mouth, then hesitates. Anakin rolls his eyes again and offers an exaggerated sigh. “Are you kidding? You’ve got to at least give me his name, Sunshine, the suspense is literally going to kill me.”

Luke laughs, loud and bright, and Anakin cracks a smile at him. Luke thinks for a moment, and figures he hopes Din will allow him this concession. “His name is Din.”

“Hmmm...” Anakin clicks his tongue, eyes narrowed in suspicion, and runs his cybernetic hand over his chin in a habit he absolutely picked up from Obi-Wan. “Another three-character name.”

Luke shakes his head and looks at Kelari. “Do you see this? He’s never happy.” She shakes her head back at him, humming in agreement while she takes another sip of her juice.

“All I can say is he better not be Han 2.0,” Anakin grouses, narrowing his eyes further at Luke. After an awkward beat, he adds: “He isn’t a smuggler, is he?”

Luke opens his mouth to deny when he realizes - he doesn’t know what Din does for work. Somehow, it just hasn’t come up. Luke resolves to ask him when he sees him again. But for now, Anakin doesn’t need to know that.

“Of course not, Father,” Luke answers smoothly. 

Anakin raises both of his eyebrows at Luke. “That wasn’t very convincing, Luke.”

Luke smiles sweetly at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Annnnnd now I’m worried.”

Luke checks his chronometer and gasps with faux surprise. “Well, would you look at that - I need to get back to the temple! It’s almost time for me to meet Ahsoka with the younglings.”

Anakin snorts at him. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. I’ll save the rest for later.” Anakin quickly chugs the remainder of his bottle, Kelari mirroring him; Luke rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to correct her. Anakin takes both of their empty bottles to the recycling chute and pats R2’s dome when he comes to stand by Luke. “C’mon, Luke - I’ll walk you out.”

Luke grins up at his father and grabs his bottle, tapping his shoulder when Kelari looks pleadingly at him. She climbs up his arm and rests on his shoulder, taking his bottle of water on the way and immediately uncapping the lid. R2 turns off the lights and they leave the break room, pausing long enough for Luke to power down his datapad and quickly close up the credits in the safe. 

When Luke rises from dropping the mat over the floor safe, his father has a cap over his hair that’s pulled too low over his eyes and a crimson pyro flower tucked in the band around the cap. Luke grins and laughs at him. “What’s all this?”

“What’s what?” Anakin parrots, an answering grin pulling at the corner of his lips; he flicks the visor of the hat up. “I’ve been traveling for the last two cycles!”

“You look like a teenage delivery chump.”

“And you look like you forgot how to get dressed this morning - Force, that’s a lot of skin; did you forget you don’t work at a cantina? Someone let you walk out of the temple looking like that?” Anakin counters, tone sharp with sarcasm, and Luke immediately flushes.

“I overslept!”

“You haven’t done that since -”

“- the morning of my Trials, I remember,” Luke groans. R2 chirps his laugh at him as he wheels over from the break room, letting Anakin know that both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka have been kind enough to remind Luke of that today and it gets funnier every time. Anakin laughs with him.

Luke fusses with his tunic collar, looking down at the bit of exposed skin on his chest. “It’s not that bad.”

“No, I’ve seen worse,” Anakin agrees easily. “Just not on my son.”

Luke rolls his eyes and tosses his hands up. “This is a losing battle; I give up. I planned to run up to my rooms before I went to the younglings, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t want to scar them,” Anakin agrees sagely; R2 laughs again, and Luke intentionally checks his shoulder into his father as he walks by him.

“At least I don’t look like I got dressed in the dark and decided to just ‘wing it’ for a few days,” Luke snarks, grinning when Anakin puts a hand over his heart and winces, stumbling back a step.

“Ow, Sunshine - you wound me. My own son, taking shots at me.”

“You’ll survive, Dad.”

“I added this pyro flower to my hat; that’s stylish!”

“Uh, no.”

Anakin sighs. “I suppose you’re right.” Luke glances at his chronometer again, and Anakin rests his hands on his hips. “Luke.”

Luke looks over at him, caught by his father’s softened tone. Anakin is smiling gently at him, his eyes warm. He takes a step forward and rests his flesh hand on Luke’s shoulder; Kelari chitters and shifts her weight. Luke swallows and waits.

“I know I saw something earlier that you weren’t quite ready for me to see,” Anakin starts, his hand squeezing Luke’s shoulder. “But this is the first time you’ve let someone in like this. He’s important to you; I want you to know you can share that with me.”

Luke swallows back a lump of emotion and nods. “I know, Dad. I’ve - been wanting to talk to you about Din for weeks now, but I didn’t really know how to.” Luke licks his lips. “I’m going to need your guidance.”

Anakin moves his hand to the side of Luke’s face, cupping his cheek. “I’m here when you’re ready.” He pauses, eyes looking over Luke’s face again. “I’m proud of you, Luke.”

Luke swallows sharply again, feeling tears prick his eyes, and steps forward to wrap his arms around his father. Anakin hugs him back, tight, cupping the back of Luke’s head to his shoulder. Kelari wraps her thin arms around both of their necks and purrs, sparking a wet laugh from Luke.

“I love you, Sunshine,” Anakin murmurs against Luke’s hair, and Luke tightens his arms.

“I love you, Dad.”

When Luke pulls back, he wipes quickly at his eyes. “I mean it; I’m going to seriously need your help.”

Anakin pats his shoulder and grins, offering a thumbs up with his other hand. “Say no more - I’ll tell you all the lines that worked on your mother.”

Luke barks a laugh and shakes his head. “Something tells me you and mom remember those stories differently.”

Anakin splutters, causing R2 to laugh, while Kelari sniggers into her palm and Luke’s ear. “We were just having a great father-son moment. I can’t believe you’d betray me like this.”

Luke grins at Anakin and starts towards the sliding doors. “I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anakin grouses, following after him. “I’ll let you go, Luke, I’ve kept you long enough. Do you think they’d allow me in the temple for dinner later?”

“I’m sure Ahsoka and I can incite a youngling riot while Uncle Ben smuggles you in,” Luke quips.

“That’s right, you did mention Snips earlier,” Anakin says, his grin spreading. “I’ll definitely be there for dinner. Hell, I may even be early.”

“I’ll be sure to warn her,” Luke drawls and Anakin laughs again. R2 rolls out ahead of them and chirps that they better hurry before he changes his mind and locks them in; Anakin flicks his dome on the way out in retaliation.

“So I’ll see you at dinner, then?” Luke asks while R2 locks the shop from the outside.

Anakin nods. “I’ll return the hover lift, get settled with your sister, then be over.” He reaches out to scratch under Kelari’s chin. R2 slips around their knees to collect the hover lift from the alley. “Do you want to come with me, darling? I’ll get you more tango fruit juice.”

Kelari leans into his touch but keeps her arms tight around Luke’s neck. Luke sniggers when Anakin pouts. “You’ll see her soon.”

“But I need something to distract Han with,” Anakin whines.

“If he’s there, you know the second you walk in he’ll disappear.”

A sly grin pulls at the corner of Anakin’s lips. “I do like those odds.”

“I’ll see you soon, then,” Luke says with a smile. R2 guides the hover lift over and disconnects, telling Anakin he’s going to start charging him credits if he has to haul his junk around while he’s visiting. Luke laughs, then inclines his head in a nod at his father. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, Sunshine!” Anakin chirps. R2 echoes the sentiment with a beep and Kelari titters as well, waving at Anakin as he climbs onto the hover lift, standing tall in place of the previous transport box. With a flick of his wrist the Force pushes the lift forward, and Anakin crosses his arms over his chest to brace against the movement. Luke watches his father’s back until he disappears into the crowd - calling down to a few pedestrians to watch where they’re going, he’s General Kenobi and on Official Jedi Business - and sighs with a grin, rubbing the side of his neck. It always irritates his uncle when he hears from people that Anakin poses at him; Obi-Wan’s annoyance doesn’t do anything to deter Anakin.

Luke desperately hopes his father likes Din, otherwise he’s going to have to deal with Anakin’s unique brand of protection terrorizing Din like he does Han. He briefly wonders if he should call Leia to warn her that their father is en route, but shrugs and decides he’s got younglings to head over to wrangle - she can handle herself.

“Alright you two,” Luke announces, dropping a hand to R2’s dome and looking at Kelari. “Let’s head to the temple.”

When he arrives, Ahsoka is visibly relieved - and annoyed.

“I honestly thought I was going to have to come get you,” Ahsoka says, voice low, a pained smile plastered on her face as she meets Luke at the door. Luke raises his eyebrows at her.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to show?”

“You’re late, Luke.”

“I went back to my rooms to change,” he says, smoothing a hand down his tunic, now complete with an undershirt. Ahsoka tracks the movement then rolls her eyes. “What? I didn’t hear the end of it earlier, now I’m wearing an undershirt and it’s inconvenient?”

“It’s inconvenient because you’re late, Luke,” Ahsoka hisses. Luke purses his lips at her, eyebrows still raised, until she lets out a breath. “I’m sorry, this is just more demanding than I remember it being.”

Luke smiles at her. “That’s alright, I’m here now.”

Ahsoka sighs and offers a small smile back. “Where’s Artoo?”

“He’s upstairs; I left him with Kelari,” Luke answers, stepping further into the room and around Ahsoka. The younglings are sitting in groups of four, hunkered down on cushions and leaning over small round tables, a datapad in the center of each. Ahsoka grabs his arm before he can get too far.

“Left him with whom?” She asks cautiously. 

“Kelari,” he answers, intentionally unhelpful, just to watch Ahsoka’s expression flatten. 

“You’re going to make me ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Luke, please.”

Luke bites his bottom lip against a shit eating grin. “She’s my new ward.”

Ahsoka blinks at him. “That explains nothing.”

“A Kowakian monkey-lizard.”

Ahsoka’s mouth falls open. “Are you kidding? You have a pet now?”

“Freshly adopted after a brief stabbing incident,” Luke answers. Ahsoka sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose with one hand.

“You’re clearly intentionally withholding key information and I do not have time for it right now,” she says, squeezing his arm before dropping her hand. “Sit with the younglings, I’m going to get something to drink and internally scream. Do you want anything?”

“Bluefruit juice, please,” Luke quips, and Ahsoka offers a wary nod before slipping from the room. Luke watches her go before turning back to see twenty pairs of eyes fixed on him. He startles for a moment, then clears his throat. “Good day, younglings.”

A chorus of “Good day, Master!” answers him and brings a smile to Luke’s face. He tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robes and walks through the tables, looking down at what the younglings have playing on their datapads. It looks like some type of pattern game, lighting up various squares in a sequence and pausing for the youngling to tap them out. One of them misses a square and the datapad buzzes; they groan and pass it to the youngling next to them. Luke smiles and drops his hand to the top of their head, ruffling their hair. “Next time.”

He continues to filter between the tables like that, watching the younglings play, before he drifts over to the table that has little Grogu. The green child looks up at him from where he sits on three stacked cushions to put him in reach of the table. Luke suppresses a smile at how cute he is as dark brown liquid eyes blink up at him. “Hello there, little saboteur.”

Grogu coos and waves a little hand at Luke, giggling. Luke vividly remembers the last time they were together - he was carrying a sleeping Grogu and his hoarded Jogan fruit back to the child’s dorm room - and settles down on the floor a little bit behind him. “Have you been terrifying anyone since we last met?”

Grogu giggles again and shakes his head, overlarge ears twitching, but Luke feels his mischievous attitude in the air and the Force. He grins at Grogu, who has now turned entirely away from the table to face Luke. “Still getting into trouble then.”

Grogu quirks his ears up, and Luke suddenly regrets leaving Kelari in his rooms - he feels like the two of them would get on like fire. 

As another youngling taps Grogu to get his attention on the datapad for his turn, Ahsoka returns. She smiles at Luke when her eyes fall on him, walking over to hand him his juice. “I see you’ve found Grogu.”

Luke nods, smiling his thanks, and turns to watch Grogu carefully press the little squares on the screen. “Of course; we go way back.”

“Mhmm,” Ahsoka answers, rolling her eyes. “I should hope so.”

Luke furrows his brow at her tone. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s -”

A sudden loud crash prompts Ahsoka to spin around and Luke to scramble to his feet; they both look at where one of the younglings has snatched down a container from a high shelf. Palm-sized wooden shapes litter the tiled floor, and the youngling sits with tears in their eyes. 

“What happened, child?” Ahsoka asks softly, passing her bottle to Luke and crossing the room to gather them up.

“I - I wanted to practice,” she sniffles, and Luke’s heart melts a little. “But I can’t get the box.” Ahsoka holds them to her chest and looks over at Luke, smoothing a hand over her short hair. When the youngling couldn’t get the container with the Force, she must have climbed up the rack to get at it another way. 

Luke waves a hand to straighten the container, and all the scattered shapes float back into place after. “Play for a little longer, youngling, and then we’ll practice,” he says softly, and big green eyes turn to him and nod. Ahsoka sets the girl back down on her cushion and another youngling passes the datapad over; Luke smiles, looking down when he feels a tug on his robes.

Grogu is there, and once he has Luke’s attention, his arms stretch up to him in a clear request: up. Luke’s smile widens and he passes Ahsoka her bottle back once she stands, scooping Grogu up into the crook of his arm. “Do you want to stay with me, young one?”

Grogu chirps with a smile and settles into Luke’s embrace, blinking bright eyes up at him. Luke gently boops his nose and hears a sharp inhale from Ahsoka. He turns to her and frowns. “Are you okay?”

She has her free hand over her mouth, her eyes suspiciously wet, and nods quickly. “I’m fine,” Ahsoka answers after clearing her throat. “You’re just - you two are cute.”

Luke laughs and rolls his eyes. “It’s all Grogu, he makes me look good. I’m just standing here.”

Grogu seems content to stay with Luke as he continues to walk around the tables, pausing his slow circuits when a youngling tugs on his robes or calls for him. He realizes he’s still carrying around the bluefruit juice and eventually hands it over to the child in his arms, grinning when he lets out a delighted coo, and gently wipes the corner of his mouth when a little bit of juice dribbles out.

After another half hour of the pattern game, Ahsoka moves to the front of the room and brings the container of wooden shapes with her. “Alright younglings, datapads away; come sit in the front.”

There’s a moment of wild scrambling while all the younglings gather their cushions and sit in a half circle in front of her. She smiles at them. “As a Jedi, you will need to learn to control yourself and the Force. I know Master Billaba has done this with you in the past, so pair up with your partner again. Whomever is usually with Grogu will be with me.”

Ahsoka winks at Luke as excited chatter floats around the room; the boy from Grogu’s table who had passed him the datapad shuffles in front of Ahsoka while the rest of them settle. She kneels in front of him and smiles. “What is your name, little one?”

“...Jareth,” he murmurs, eyes wide and focused on Ahsoka.

“Hi Jareth,” she answers. “How about we show the others what we’re doing?”

He hesitantly nods; Ahsoka settles with her legs crossed and waits for Jareth to mirror her. She waves her hand and a blue ball floats over, hovering between them. “Younglings, we’re going to simply pass your shape between each other. Watch as I push forward,” she says, using the Force to direct the ball slowly towards Jareth. The youngling visibly swallows and squeezes his eyes shut, tentatively holding both of his hands up. After a moment, the ball slowly and shakily floats back to Ahsoka, and she beams at him.

“Good job, Jareth,” she says, and the youngling’s eyes pop open and his little shoulders shimmy with joy. Ahsoka wraps her hand around the ball and turns back to the rest of the group. “Master Skywalker will pass these out for you, and we’ll do this exercise until afternoon snacks arrive before your visitation time.”

An excited murmur travels through the group and Luke laughs when Grogu nearly vibrates in his arms at the mention of food. Ahsoka nods at him and he waves his hand, several wooden shapes floating out of the container and to the various youngling pairs. He chooses a yellow star for Grogu and carries him back behind the tables to his tall stack of cushions.

Once he’s settled, Luke sits a few feet in front of him. “Ready, Grogu?”

Large green ears perk up immediately, and Luke grins. 

Although Luke doesn’t know much about Yoda’s species, he does know that their size betrays their age. Grogu looks like he shouldn’t even begin his training yet, but he passes the star between himself and Luke like it’s nothing, eyes wide and fixed on the floating shape; he giggles when Luke takes the star through a loop and swirl before settling just in front of his nose and tries to mimic it when he sends it back.

When Grogu successfully guides the star around Luke’s head and hovers it right over his heart, Luke wonders why he hasn’t tried harder to spend more time with the younglings. He enjoys what little time he does have with them, the shop taking up most of his cycles, but he resolves that he should put more of an effort into being with them. Or, perhaps just more time with Grogu - Luke’s already carved space out in his heart for the little gremlin.

“Excellent job, Grogu,” Luke praises with a wide smile, and Grogu beams and giggles; Luke’s heart warms at the sight.

The door to the room slides open and immediately breaks Grogu’s concentration. His big eyes snap to the entrance as a nanny droid rolls in, pushing a cart laden with snacks and juice.

The rest of the younglings all break concentration a second later, in sync like a starving hive mind, and begin scrambling towards the cart. Luke laughs when Grogu huffs and tries to climb down from his tower of cushions to join in the scramble; he stands and scoops Grogu up, the youngling wiggling in his arms, and carries him over.

Ahsoka stands to the side as Luke selects what Grogu points at - another bottle of bluefruit juice and two bright blue cookies - then comes to stand next to her. The rest of the younglings settle back on their cushions as the nanny droid wheels back out. Ahsoka hands him an opened bottle of bluefruit juice with a smile. Luke grins gratefully and takes it, shuffling Grogu to free his other hand. He takes a sip and hums, eyes on the chattering children. “This isn’t so bad after all.”

Ahsoka shakes her head. “No, it really isn’t. It was a little turbulent earlier, but once you got here, they settled.” She smirks over at him. “I think they like you better than me.”

Luke shrugs coyly. “Can you blame them?”

Ahsoka barks a laugh and lightly punches Luke’s shoulder. “Easy there, Little Skyguy; maybe they just assume you’re one of them.”

Luke winces and takes another sip. “Ouch.”

Ahsoka’s smirk grows and she shrugs. “Just making an observation.”

“Uh-huh,” Luke grumbles; Grogu coos and shoves his second cookie into his mouth whole. Luke, alarmed, watches him to make sure he doesn’t choke, then settles when Grogu lets out a little burp. “I should tell you now before I forget - Dad is coming for dinner.”

Ahsoka starts next to him, shifting her weight; her full attention is on him. “Anakin? What is he doing here?”

“That transport for the wedding,” Luke begins, wiping a crumb from the corner of Grogu’s mouth as he holds up his juice bottle with both little hands for a long drink. “He’s the one who brought it.”

“Interesting,” Ahsoka says, thumb on her chin. “I mean it’s Anakin, he historically just does whatever he wants, but I wonder what prompted him.”

“He said he’s here to see Leia and I,” Luke says. He keeps his eyes on Grogu when he adds, quietly: “He saw us.”

Ahsoka lays a comforting hand on Luke’s bicep. “How did it go?”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh. “Surprisingly well, actually. I - thought it wasn’t going to be.” Grogu turns his big eyes on Luke while he keeps drinking his juice, blinking slowly at him. “He knew I - I mean, I told him I.” Luke looks at Ahsoka and lets out a frustrated sound. “I told him before I moved here permanently that I’m attracted to men, and he was fine with it.” 

Ahsoka smiles softly at him. “We all are, Luke.”

Luke flicks a smile at her and shifts in place. “Yeah, I. I know that.” Grogu lowers his bottle, empty, and Luke trades it for his still half full one. “This is just the first time I’ve wanted to introduce anyone to him, and - I wasn’t ready. To talk about it, I mean.”

Luke keeps his eyes on Grogu, now chugging away at Luke’s bottle, and can feel Ahsoka’s eyes searching his face. “You were worried.”

After a moment, Luke nods. “I still am. This is important to me - Din is important to me - and you know how Dad’s been after the accident. I want them to get along, because I want Din in my life.” Luke pauses and licks his lips; he wants to tell someone. “Ahsoka, I realized that I -”

A bright blue wooden cresent moon goes whizzing by Luke’s nose, cutting him off with a yelp. He looks up in time to stop a second shape - this one a red cube - from smacking him in the forehead with the Force. Luke holds Grogu closer to his chest on reflex, dislodging the bottle and spilling blue juice down the front of his tunic. Grogu coos sadly but clutches to the fabric, bottle dropped and forgotten, and Ahsoka gasps; Luke’s jaw falls open when he follows her gaze.

Wooden shapes are all over the place, floating at various heights amongst cushions and datapads and a few tables. They flutter and shake, clearly unstable, and Luke blinks over at Ahsoka. “Were we really that distracted?”

Ahsoka’s hand flies out to deflect another shape from attempting to pelt Luke’s face. “This is too heavy a conversation, they can obviously smell distraction; raincheck, Little Skyguy.”

Luke laughs and nods. “Sure thing.”

The younglings, previously so docile and obedient, seem to have awoken their terrorist tendencies after a little sugar. Luke carefully sets Grogu down and promises him another juice bottle and cookie if he stays still, before joining Ahsoka as she attempts to wrangle the children. A few of them have managed to climb up the racks of training toys in the back of the room, while a few others continue to throw wooden blocks around the room and float the tables up and down with the Force - Luke is pretty sure he can see the upset girl from earlier sitting on one of them and clapping. Luke has to dodge more flying junk than he cares to admit, the corner of one star getting a lucky shot on his cheek.

Ahsoka manages to get the younglings down from the top of the racks as more begin to climb up; Luke throws a hand out to stop them, then his other towards the menaces hurling shapes at him, just as a floating cushion smacks him in the face. He laughs, honestly not able to believe this is his life right now, before steeling himself.

They’re clever, but he and Leia were much worse at their age, and he was Padawan to the Master that always dealt with their shenanigans - he’s learned a thing or thousand. 

A floating bottle of juice upends over Luke’s head, still icy, and he sighs. “Alright, younglings - that’s enough,” he cheerily announces. He curls his fingers and everything that’s floating flutters to the ground - that little girl was sitting on a floating table, what the kriff - and the other younglings he was holding back from climbing up the racks grumble as he keeps them in place. “Find a cushion and sit; you have five seconds.”

Luke relaxes his hold and the younglings scramble to find a cushion. Once they’re quiet, Ahsoka comes to stand beside him. She sighs and passes him a few napkins to mop up what he can of the pink juice running down his face and neck. They must have the shittiest napkins in the entire galaxy; he swears he’s just rubbing the juice around. After a few more fruitless seconds, Luke gives up and runs a sticky hand through his hair to push it back. “That was all very clever of you, younglings, but now you’re stuck there until your parents arrive.”

A collective groan and protests erupt in the room; Luke holds up his gloved hand and they abruptly die. “Your final lesson for today - there are always consequences for your actions. Think before you act.” He pauses and slowly grins at them. “Although the speed you gained hurling those shapes at my face with the Force is admirable.” The younglings giggle, and Ahsoka snorts. 

A tug on Luke’s robes pulls his attention, and Grogu is back - arms up, mouth spread in a wide grin and showing his little teeth. Luke raises his eyebrows but relents, bending to pick him up. “You were supposed to stay still, Grogu. Do you not want your reward?” 

Grogu sends through the Force that Luke didn’t say for how long, and Luke just laughs at his cheek. “I suppose that’s true.”

He passes Grogu over to Ahsoka, the child only protesting until Luke tells him he’s going to get his cookie, before winking at Ahsoka. “Give me just a few minutes, I need to wash my face.”

Ahsoka offers a lazy salute and settles Grogu on her hip, turning a critical eye to supervise the grounded younglings. Luke slips out of the room and to the nearest ‘fresher, splashing water onto his face and running wet fingers through his hair. Now he is glad he left R2 and Kelari in the rooms, otherwise that whole scene would definitely have been much worse.

Luke doesn’t doubt that the two of them would have ganged up on him and Ahsoka, likely launching into a full-on war. Luke shakes the thought from his head and dries his hands, then heads over to the dining room to see if he can get juice and cookies for Grogu: the only one who wasn’t involved in today’s rebellion - miraculously - so he’s earned it.

When Luke comes back to the room, Ahsoka is still keeping a steady vigil with little Grogu, now settled closer to her shoulder. They both turn to look at him when the door opens, and Grogu immediately begins wiggling and reaching his arms out for him. Luke smiles and takes him when Ahsoka squeaks and passes him over, wholly unprepared for the level of wiggle Grogu employed.

“Yes, yes, young one, I have your treats,” Luke laughs, offering Grogu the cookie he wrapped in a napkin and poking a hole into the juice box he also pilfered. Grogu shoves the entire thing into his mouth again, prompting Luke to snort in amusement, and makes grabby hands at the juice box. He looks around the room once Grogu is slurping on the straw, frowning when he notices there are several less younglings than when he left earlier. “Uh, Ahsoka?”

“A few of their parents already came to collect them,” she assures him, folding her arms over her chest, and Luke lets out a sigh of relief. “The rest should be here shortly.”

“Oh good,” he says. “For a second there, I thought they managed to follow me out.”

“A few of them tried; Grogu and I stopped them,” Ahsoka continues darkly, and Luke barks a laugh.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Luke and Ahsoka sit with the children for a little longer, parents coming in to collect them every few minutes. They smile and nod at them as they go, waving back at the younglings when they wave on their way out - it seems that Luke and Ahsoka are forgiven for grounding all of them in the face of their excitement to see their parents. Grogu stays settled in Luke’s arms, waving at the younglings along with them, juice box long finished and thrown away.

It isn’t too long before it’s just the three of them. When Grogu turns his face against the still sticky skin of Luke’s neck and coos, Luke throws Ahsoka a worried look. “Ahsoka?”

“Yes, Little Skyguy,” she chirps, stepping away to start getting the room back in order.

Luke hesitates, unsure of how to ask his question. “Do you know if, uh...”

Ahsoka pauses from where she’s gathering the cushions into a pile in the back. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just,” Luke sighs, shifting Grogu to his other arm. The child warbles then settles, leaning his head back against Luke’s shoulder. His little hands reach up to pull something from beneath his robes; he promptly sticks it into his mouth. “Grogu has...someone coming, right?”

Ahsoka freezes, her eyes widening; slowly her lips part and she covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Luke.”

Luke swallows, his heart and stomach dropping. “He doesn’t, does he?”

Ahsoka’s eyes roam his face. After a few long seconds, she snorts in disbelief. “You really don’t know.”

Luke tilts his head at her; Grogu coos, his small teeth clacking on whatever is in his mouth. “I don’t know what?”

Ahsoka’s other hand comes to join her first, but Luke knows Ahsoka - it’s not in alarm, she’s trying to not laugh at him. When she still doesn’t say anything, Luke waves his hand at her. “Hey - I don’t know what? Are you going to elaborate, or?”

Ahsoka vehemently shakes her head and lowers her hands; her grin is feral. “Absolutely not.”

Luke pulls a face at her. “You’re seriously going to react like that and not say anything?”

“Yup,” she answers, turning back to collecting cushions. She waves her hand and the scattered wooden shapes float back into their container at the front. “You’ll find out soon enough, anyway.”

Luke huffs and rolls his eyes in frustration, attention drawing back to Grogu. He moves his head, trying to get a better look at what the child has in his mouth. “What have you got there, little one?”

Grogu smiles brightly and thrusts the charm up for Luke; it doesn’t go very far, still attached to the leather twine keeping it around his neck. Luke squints, unable to clearly make out the shape - it looks vaguely familiar, and Grogu’s spit on it makes it shine; Luke could almost swear that it’s made out of - 

All of his breath leaves him like he’s been punched in the gut, the Force nearly screaming at him; it’s timed with the door to the room sliding open, and Luke snaps his eyes up to see red Queen’s Heart and yellow honeyblossoms wrapped in orange flimsi held against shining beskar, his gaze trailing to settle on Din’s visor. Luke’s jaw drops and Din’s helmet tilts in amusement. 

Luke tears his eyes away to look back down at Grogu, who has lit up and babbles away in his arms, wriggling with both hands stretched out towards Din. Luke looks at the charm Grogu had shown him before, now laying rightside up and forgotten over his robes, then flicks his eyes over the matching signet on Din’s right pauldron. After a breath, Luke’s face flames.

Oh, oh no. He’s such an idiot. Kriffing hells. Ahsoka knew the entire time - and now she’s laughing, Luke can absolutely hear her laughing at him.

“Luke.” Din’s smooth voice snaps Luke’s eyes back to his visor, and Luke can feel cautious amusement rolling off him into the Force. “This is my son, Grogu.”

“Oh fuck,” Luke chokes out, then promptly stumbles back on his ass.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka’s laugh cuts off into a snort and Din takes a few hurried steps forward to Luke, who is still sitting where his obliviousness shocked him on his ass. Grogu giggles from where he is clutched to Luke’s chest, and claps his little hands together. Luke lets out a harsh exhale and falls onto his back; he’s glad this is fun for one of them.

“Luke?” Din asks from where he’s now kneeling at Luke’s side, free hand hovering like he isn’t sure if he should touch him. Luke refuses to look at him on principle, instead staring up at the ceiling.

“Luke’s not home right now,” he murmurs, face still on fire; Ahsoka lets out another peal of laughter, and Din chuckles softly. Ordinarily Luke loves the sound of Din’s laugh, but right now he’s too embarrassed to properly listen. “I’ll take a message for him.”

“Tell him it’s going to be alright,” Din says, finally resting his hand on one of Luke’s arms around Grogu. “And that I said it’s good to see him.”

“Noted,” Luke croaks, eyes fluttering shut at Din’s soft touch. Grogu squirms around until Luke relaxes his grip. “You should take your son; he’s knocked me flat on my back.”

Din chuckles again and moves his hand from Luke’s arm to Grogu’s back. “Hey, kid.” 

Luke opens his eyes. Oh, it looks like one of the younglings managed to get a wooden star lodged into the ceiling. He raises his eyebrows and tugs it free with the Force, sending it back to the container with the rest of them. Grogu’s weight is lifted from Luke’s chest, and he swallows - he can’t avoid looking at Din forever, so he carefully takes a peek and feels his breath leave him again.

Din has Grogu settled on the top of his cuisse where his leg is still propped, running gloved fingers affectionately along his overlarge green ears; Grogu’s arms are stretched wide around his father’s waist, his little face smiling into Din’s beskar. Din’s other hand, the one still holding Luke’s bouquet, presses gently to Grogu’s back to return the embrace.

It’s - literally the sweetest thing Luke has ever seen in his entire existence, and it immediately obliterates all the daydreams he had about how Din may be with his son. It also further reminds Luke of how kriffing stupid he is; Luke lets out a low, embarrassing whine and curls away from Din and onto his side, pulling his hood over his head as he rolls. He feels immediate alarm from Din in the Force, but before he can say anything, Ahsoka’s boots step into his line of sight.

“Up, Little Skyguy,” she says firmly, but Luke can hear the smile in her voice.

“Not home,” Luke repeats, and Ahsoka sniggers.

“Ya know,” she begins, and the way she’s saying it Luke knows she’s tapping at her chin. Everyone seems to get that from Obi-Wan. “I’m pretty sure one of the younglings was sick there earlier.”

Luke scrambles to his feet.

Ahsoka grins at him when he looks at her, scandalized. “I lied.”

Luke frowns and narrows his eyes at her. “That’s unbecoming of a Jedi, Master Tano.”

“So is wallowing around on the floor, Master Skywalker,” she replies sweetly, grin still playing on her lips. Luke opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it with a clack of his teeth. 

He doesn’t really have anything to say to that.

A careful hand brushes over Luke’s shoulder; he turns to see Din standing behind him with Grogu now settled on his shoulder, a mirror to how Kelari likes to sit on Luke. His helmet tilts towards him, and Luke can still feel wry amusement mixed with concern through the Force. Luke feels his face flame again and clears his throat.

“I apologize for my behavior,” he says, and Din’s helmet tilts in confusion. He hears Ahsoka sigh behind him.

“Alright,” she says, clapping her hands. Luke looks back at her. “Seems like you two need to chat. Luke, I’ll finish cleaning up this room and see you for dinner. Sound good?”

Luke hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

She smiles and pats his cheek with affection. “See ya, Luke. I’ll be on the lookout for Skyguy and call you if he’s too early.”

Luke huffs a nervous laugh. “Yes, please.”

Ahsoka winks at him before looking at Din. “Go easy on him.”

Din chuckles. “No promises.”

Luke clears his throat and looks back up at the ceiling. “After you, then.” Din reaches back out and takes Luke’s hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. He tugs slightly, and Luke follows after him as he starts to head out the room, dropping his hand once they’re in the hallway.

Obviously Din is familiar enough over what Luke assumes to be numerous visits that he easily navigates the halls without direction; Luke walks slightly behind him, quiet. They’re heading towards the dormitory, likely Grogu’s little room, while the youngling in question babbles excitedly at Din. Luke can feel in the Force that he’s telling his father all about the fun he had today, spending time with the other children and being able to stay with Luke. Luke presses his lips together to suppress his growing smile, still flabbergasted at how he completely missed their connection.

Din hums in all the right places, commenting back to Grogu occasionally to spur him on, and Luke feels his heart pound. It reminds him of how Din is with R2; even though he can’t understand the astromech’s binary, he makes a genuine effort. Now Luke understands why - he has practice with working out communicating with his wordless son, something borne from time spent together.

Luke is pulled from his thoughts when Din comes to a stop outside of Grogu’s room. He glances at Luke. “Come in with us.”

Luke swallows and nods.

Din opens the door and Luke follows him in, the door sliding shut behind him; the room is the same size as only Luke’s sleeping quarters as the younglings don’t need as much extra space as the Masters, but the room is cozy. All of the furniture in Grogu’s room is sized just for him, with a little desk covered in flimsi and scattered coloring pencils and a chair against one wall, his bed and end table against the other - Luke is warmed at the sight of the last bouquet he made for Din in a vase on the end table - and various little drawings displayed on the walls around the room. Luke steps up to get a closer look at some while Din sets Grogu down behind him, scanning over the flimsi.

He sees drawings of Grogu with who must be Master Billaba, some with the other younglings, and various scenes from his day-to-day studies; the stars of the wall are all the pictures with Grogu standing with Din, his attempts at coloring his father’s armor obviously made with care and spotted with little red hearts, bringing a smile to his face. Luke’s breath hitches as his eyes catch on another drawing.

It’s one of him, from when he and Grogu spent time in the meditation gardens together, with carefully-drawn blue flower crowns colored on their heads. Grogu drew them holding hands with wide smiles on their stick figure faces, and Luke brings a shaking hand up to his mouth, suddenly floored as tears prick his eyes. He’s just tracing his gloved fingers along the lines when he feels Din standing behind him. 

“I thought you knew then,” Din says, voice low through his modulator, and Luke swallows. He runs his index finger over the blue starflowers Grogu must have painstakingly tried to emulate before he turns around, dropping his hands to his sides. Din is holding Grogu again, the starflowers Luke noticed earlier now in Grogu’s little hand, and the new Queen’s Heart and honeyblossoms settled in the vase along with the surviving nova lilies and starblossoms. “The flowers you had in your hair were your own.”

Luke blinks quickly, surprised - the flowers Grogu had brought to him all those weeks ago weren’t ones he had picked from the garden, but from an arrangement Din had brought to him from Luke? That explains why he felt his own Force signature radiating off of them so strongly. Grogu must have followed the flowers right to Luke that day. 

Luke laughs without humor and looks down at his unpolished boots, shaking his head as he runs his gloved hand through his juice crusted hair. Of all days to look like complete shit. “I’m an idiot.”

“No,” Din says with finality, nudging Luke’s chin up with his knuckles. “I should have said something sooner. I - I thought you knew.” He shifts, and Grogu coos. “I wasn’t intentionally trying to...when you kept asking to meet him, I thought you were joking.” Din shifts uncomfortably again, angling his helmet down towards Grogu, who looks up at him and tilts his head in a direct mimic of his father. “You’d already met. More than once.”

Luke huffs another laugh and folds his arms across his chest. He doesn’t feel like he deserves Din’s calm understanding or forgiveness. “I still should have noticed.”

“I should have told you,” Din softly corrects. “Instead of relying on assumptions - of you, and others.”

Din’s comment causes Luke to tilt his chin in thought at him. “Others - you mean Ahsoka?”

Din nods. “She’s the reason Grogu is here. I ran into her by chance on a job on Corvus.” Din looks at Luke again. “She noticed what I already knew about him - he needed something I couldn’t provide for him on my own.”

A tinge of sadness drifts from Din into the Force, and Luke furrows his brows. Grogu coos softly, picking up on it as well, and squirms to reach up to the edge of his father’s helmet. He tugs until Din looks back down at him, then tries to stand on his vambrace. He pats Din’s beskar cheek in comfort, tiny claws tapping to mingle with his soft babbling, and Luke smiles. Grogu turns his wide eyes to Luke and points back at Din with the hand holding the starflowers.

“He wants you to not be sad,” Luke murmurs, and Din’s visor looks up to Luke. “He wouldn’t be here without you, and he’s happy you’re still with him.”

Din’s arm around Grogu tightens, and he glances back down at him. “I’m happy, too, kid.”

Luke’s smile widens when Grogu lets out a delighted squeal; he slowly uncrosses his arms and drops them to his sides. “You know, I think Ahsoka thought I already knew, too. I spent almost the entire lesson this afternoon carrying this little gremlin around.”

Din chuckles. “I’m not surprised; he’s fond of you, Luke.”

Din isn’t standing terribly close, but Luke still wants to pull away. He swallows and ducks his chin instead, still more than a little embarrassed over the whole thing. “I can’t imagine why; I’ve seen him a grand total of three times.”

Grogu holds himself up with a hand on Din’s pauldron and looks back at Luke, his ears drooping. He gestures with the flowers until Din carefully holds him out to Luke, who warily takes him with a sigh. “I can’t really say no to that face,” he mumbles, smiling slightly when Grogu grins in triumph.

“I think - that’s my fault,” Din says sheepishly, empty hands now coming to rest on his belt. “When I bring him your flowers, I talk about you.” As if unsure of how to stand, Din crosses his arms over his chest then immediately uncrosses them; he drops his hands back to his belt and tilts his helmet at Luke with a low huff. Luke bites back a smile at the display as Din continues: “I think the day I saw you outside of the temple, he was tired of waiting on me to introduce him.”

Luke barks a laugh, looking down at Grogu’s slyly narrowed eyes and knowing smirk. “Did you use my Force signature on those starflowers to come find me?” When Grogu shuffles and offers what is clearly a coy shrug, Luke laughs again, loud and delighted. “Clever thing.”

Din reaches out and runs his fingers over Grogu’s ear; Grogu hums, his eyes sliding shut. After a few minutes of content silence - Luke looking at Grogu and Din looking at the two of them - Din softly confesses, “I like seeing you two. Together.”

Luke hums and keeps his eyes on Grogu, his heart stuttering in his chest at Din’s soft words, then smiles at Din. He feels a flush creeping up his neck, but he’s suddenly so happy. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.”

Din shakes his head. “Enough of that. I could have said it any time. This is partially on me.”

“I would say it’s more of a eighty-twenty split,” Luke quips, grin spreading when Din sighs with exasperation so heavy it crackles his modulator. “Let’s agree to disagree.”

Din huffs a laugh and tilts his helmet. “Whatever you say, cyar’ika.”

Luke’s grin and expression transforms itself into something undeniably lovestruck, prompting him to bite his lower lip to rein it in. “It sounds like we have some time to catch up on, then.” Grogu opens his eyes and makes an agreeing sound at Luke, waving the starflowers at him. It takes a moment for Luke to parse what he wants through the Force. “Would you like to show your dad how to make a flower crown?”

When Grogu excitedly cheers, he whips his little face back towards Din and waves the flowers at him with urgency. Din hesitates for a moment, then clears his throat. “I - won’t be any good at it.”

“You don’t have to be good at something to have fun,” Luke answers kindly. He jerks his chin over to Grogu’s bed. “Let’s sit, and I’ll show you.”

Din visibly deflates but does as he’s asked, settling with his back against Grogu’s bed frame and his legs stretched out in front of him; Luke sits next to him, legs crossed, and arranges Grogu on his lap. He carefully takes the starflowers and fans them out, plucking a few with longer stems to start. “Now that I’m thinking about it, I really should have noticed that the flowers Grogu brought me last time weren’t freshly picked.”

“Hmm?” Din asks, watching Luke.

“Well, these are trimmed; I trim them all before I wrap them. I assumed Grogu had found a bed of starflowers I raised in the meditation gardens and brought a fistful to me,” Luke continues, happy with the initial flowers he’s pulled. Sounds like he’s become an oblivious florist as well. “I take care of the flowers there, too, in my off time.”

Din shuffles closer to him; Luke can feel his pauldron grazing his shoulder. “Can they afford you?”

Luke laughs with surprised delight; he doesn’t think he’s ever going to tire of Din’s dry humor. “They pay me in time to train the younglings. Which is really the worst currency, no one accepts it.”

Din chuckles softly, and Grogu looks over at him briefly before adding his own giggles. Luke’s heart thuds at the sound, and he smiles down at Grogu. “Ready, little one?”

Grogu coos and claps his hands together, settling with his back to Luke’s chest as they did before in the gardens. Luke hands him a few of the flowers to start, and is pleased when Grogu seems to remember the first few steps. When he gets stuck, he whines and looks up at Luke; Luke smiles and gently wraps his hands around Grogu’s much smaller ones, guiding him through the next few loops.

Din’s attention is on their hands, Grogu humming happily, when Luke swallows. He can feel Din’s warmth and it’s distracting. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Din answers softly. 

“You said job earlier, when you met Ahsoka,” Luke says. He feels Din stiffen beside him. “What do you do, Din?”

Din is quiet for a few minutes, his shoulders tense and leaking hesitation into the Force. Grogu doesn’t seem concerned, slowly working more flowers into his little crown. “It - may change your opinion of me,” Din finally begins, voice apprehensive.

“It won’t,” Luke immediately assures. He looks away from Grogu’s little hands to catch Din’s visor already facing him. “I...Din, I think you could tell me you were Sith and it wouldn’t change anything.”

After Luke says it, he knows with startling clarity that he means it. Oh, Force...

Din’s helmet tilts in that way that always makes Luke’s breath short. “I - don’t know what that is.”

Luke huffs a laugh, a flush creeping up his neck and face; one of Grogu’s little claws taps on his fingers, drawing his attention back to their task. “Users of the Dark side of the Force.” When Din still stares at him, Luke offers a wistful grin. “Just know that’s a significant admission from me, so don’t worry about what you’re about to say.”

Din clears his throat. “I’ll take your word for it.” Luke sees him shuffle out of the corner of his eye before he finally speaks. “I’m a bounty hunter.”

Luke snorts and slaps a hand over his mouth; Grogu protests and wiggles in his lap. Din just keeps staring at him, and Luke looks over with bright eyes. “That’s all?”

“Luke, I’ve killed. A lot,” Din murmurs, helmet tilting down to where Grogu is starting to stand up to pull Luke’s hand back down. Din puts a gloved hand on Grogu’s back to steady him while he vies for Luke’s attention. “Rarely for a good reason; sometimes in cold blood.”

“But you’ve also bought and released slaves because you couldn’t stand to see them in that situation,” Luke answers matter-of-factly, allowing Grogu to pull his hand back while he keeps his eyes on Din. “You get flowers and candy for your son before you visit him, you distrust droids but you’re making an effort to with Artoo, and you’re -” Luke pauses to clear the lump from his throat. “You’re so kind to me, when you don’t have to be.”

Now with Luke’s hand in tow, Grogu settles back in place; Luke glances down to take up the half-finished crown again before looking back at Din, who has been silent. “You’re careful, thoughtful - you don’t push.” Luke licks his lips and swallows. “When I feel you in the Force, you’re - everything, Din. The things you’ve done, your jobs; no one is perfect. We’ll work through whatever happens, but they won’t change how I feel about you.”

Luke takes a sharp breath, suddenly realizing he hadn’t in a while - it’s so telling; he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep himself from blurting to Din that he loves him - only to have it stolen again when Din’s hands frame his face and pull him forward, resting their foreheads together urgently. Luke’s hands still again, prompting a heavy sigh from Grogu, but the child doesn’t squirm for his attention this time. Luke smiles softly, closing his eyes to savor his favorite sensation in the whole galaxy, before Din pulls back.

“Thank you, cyar’ika,” Din says; his voice is hoarse, but Luke just holds his smile and leans forward to bump their foreheads together one more time.

“You don’t have to thank me, Din,” he says softly, tilting his chin up to press his lips to Din’s helmet. “I’m just telling you who I see; so really, thank you for being you.” He presses one more kiss before settling back where he was before. “I’m so glad you came into my shop.”

Din strokes his thumbs under Luke’s eyes before his fingertips trail from Luke’s face to his neck and away, one arm settling on Grogu’s bed to curl around Luke’s back and his other hand dropping to Grogu’s ear again. “...I am, too.”

Luke beams at him, then looks back down at Grogu; his dark brown eyes are turned towards him, wide and happy, and Luke’s smile grows. “Yes, Grogu - we’ll finish your flower crown now.” Grogu coos and turns his attention back to the flowers, and Din’s helmet rests against Luke’s temple.

Once they’ve finished Grogu’s little crown and settled it on his head, both Luke and Grogu turn expectant eyes on Din. Din, who has been watching quietly and sending wispy tendrils of happiness and content into the Force, stares blankly back at them. He clears his throat. “...you were serious?”

Luke grins. “Yes, it’s your turn.”

Din shifts. “I - won’t be good at it,” he reminds Luke, and Luke and Grogu shrug simultaneously. Din’s visor flicks between the two of them again; after a beat, he heaves a sigh. “Fine. What do I need to do?”

Grogu claps his hands and scrambles to crawl from Luke’s lap into Din’s, pressing his back against his father’s beskar. Din looks helplessly at Luke, who is already choosing Din’s flowers from the pile next to him and offering no help. “There’s just enough left for yours, too, Din.”

Din shuffles and huffs. “Delightful.” 

Luke grins and swats the back of his hand against Din’s pauldron. “You’ll survive.”

“You overestimate me, Jedi.”

“Oh please, you’re gonna look great; fierce, awe-inspiring, threatening.”

“Those words don’t mean what you’re implying.”

Grogu coos and pats Din’s gloves where they’ve settled around him, and Luke laughs. “Grogu agrees with me.”

Din lets out another sigh. “I don’t like you two working together against me.”

“Too bad, handsome,” Luke quips with a wink, and Din abruptly coughs.

Luke hands Grogu the flowers he picked; Grogu carefully lays them out on his father’s cuisse and looks up at him, eyes still so wide, and Luke grins when Din nods at him. “Show me, kid.”

Grogu babbles happily as Luke reaches out to settle Din’s hands like he had his over Grogu’s earlier. “He’ll do all the work, just help him hold the flowers while he weaves.” Din nods, and Grogu carefully begins. Luke pulls his legs up and slumps down to settle his head on Din’s pauldron, hands linked around his shins. He sighs, content to just be close and here with Din, and closes his eyes. Luke’s body is reacting as it usually does around Din - heart hammering, pulse racing, and his hands have started their usual trembling now that he isn’t fiddling with flowers - but he’s never been happier. 

When Grogu is halfway through his father’s crown, little clawed fingers working slow and steady and careful, Luke opens his eyes, a question on his tongue. “Will you tell me how you met?”

Din turns to him, the edge of his helmet grazing the top of Luke’s messy hair. “Only if you tell me why you smell like kavasa fruit.”

Luke laughs and shifts up so he can cross his legs. “Deal; you go first.”

Din nods, looking back at Grogu when the child whines at him. Luke patiently waits while Din gathers his thoughts, head still comfortably resting against his pauldron. “It was a job. All information about the mark was classified, I just had the fob.” Din pauses while Grogu grunts, pulling out a stem he broke. “The mark was Grogu.”

Luke inhales sharply, looking down at the youngling. Grogu finishes tugging the stem out, relaxed, and replaces it while Din continues. “I found out I wasn’t the only one with his fob; I took care of the ones I knew about. We didn’t stop moving until I was sure no one had followed us.” Luke feels Din tense, pausing to let out a slow breath. It only takes a second for Luke to feel the anger Din still holds through the Force, and drops his gloved hand to the space below his cuisse and squeezes; Din tilts his helmet against his temple again.

“When it was time to turn him over, I already decided I wouldn’t,” he continues softly. “A - friend of mine in the Guild helped me erase the bounty. I made sure the one who took it out on him wouldn’t be around to do it again.” Luke swallows, understanding the implication, and squeezes above Din’s knee again. “It took time; Grogu was a foundling, and I - was a foundling, too.”

“What’s that?” Luke asks softly when Din doesn’t elaborate.

“Foundlings are those who have no one and are taken in by Mandalorians,” Din answers him. Luke inhales again, pulling back to look at the side of Din’s helmet. Din keeps his visor down on Grogu, who has nearly finished his father’s crown. “I have my covert, but when I was taken in, I was never adopted into a clan. I don’t know what happened to Grogu’s family, but I didn’t want that for him.” He looks over at Luke, the timbre of his voice low. “I adopted him. We became our own clan.”

Luke feels a lump of emotion forming in his throat; he swallows and smiles softly, eyes lingering on all the features of Din’s helmet. “That’s a sweet story, Din.”

Din clears his throat and focuses back on Grogu, flustered. “It - I suppose it is.”

Luke settles back against Din’s pauldron with a quiet laugh, heart fluttering. “Yes, it is. You’re amazing.”

“I was just in the right place at the right time.”

Luke quirks an eyebrow at him. “Would you have done it differently if given the chance?”

“No,” Din answers immediately. Luke smiles again. 

“That’s what makes you amazing.”

Grogu chooses then to shriek in delight, and Luke leans over to see he’s completed Din’s crown. He grins when Grogu holds his little arms up in a cheer before looking at Din. “Looks like your crown is ready, Din.”

Din sighs with resignation. “So it seems.”

Grogu stands up on his father’s lap, steadying himself with a hand on Din’s chest plate and Luke’s hand on his back. He closes his eyes and holds up his other little hand, using the Force to carefully lift and place the starflower crown over Din’s helmet. Grogu opens his eyes and claps his hands together, wiggling and babbling with absolute delight. Luke grins at Din, who turns to look at him.

“Don’t say anything, Jedi,” he says, tone careful, and Luke’s grin grows.

“I was just going to say you’re even more handsome, but I’ll keep it to myself,” Luke teases. Din clears his throat abruptly; Luke bites his lip against a laugh and instead looks down at Grogu. “Great job, Grogu - that looks wonderful.” 

Grogu turns his big eyes on Luke and smiles brightly, his little teeth showing, and Luke reaches out to boop his nose; Grogu giggles and scrunches his face up. Luke laughs in response and does it again, delighted by Grogu’s happy giggles.

When he looks back at Din, his visor is already turned towards him and Luke feels something acute and saccharine caress him in the Force; Luke unconsciously holds his breath. Din’s shoulders rise on a sharp inhale. “Luke, I -”

Luke’s comlink in his chronometer trills, and Luke sighs with annoyance. “Sorry, just a moment,” he says; Din nods stiffly, and Luke feels frustration roll into the Force. His stomach drops when he looks down to see Ahsoka’s name, putting the call on audio only. “Yes, Ahsoka?”

“Little Skyguy,” she answers, her voice apologetic. Luke swallows, already not liking where this is going. “Regular-sized Skyguy is here and already causing trouble.”

Luke groans, catching the time on the face of his chronometer. “He did say he may be early, but why this early?”

“He said something about needing to finish an interrogation,” Ahsoka answers. “I assume that’s your conversation from earlier?”

Din’s attention snaps to Luke’s face when Ahsoka says ‘interrogation’; Luke bites his bottom lip and runs his other hand through his hair, suddenly overwhelmed and more than a little affected by the fierce protection radiating from Din. “Yup, that would be correct.”

“Well, better get over here, then, before he comes looking for you.”

Luke curses. Din tilts his helmet at him. “Auntie - I need you to distract him. I’m still covered in kavasa juice.”

Ahsoka sighs. “I might be able to buy you a half hour, but you know how he is. He’ll just storm your ‘fresher again.”

Luke barks a laugh. “Don’t remind me.” When Din immediately tenses, Luke drops a comforting hand to his bicep and squeezes. “Give me that half hour and then send him up; Artoo and Kelari can run interference.”

“Roger roger!” Ahsoka quips, and Luke snorts. “See you soon, Little Skyguy.”

“May the Force be with you,” Luke answers seriously, then disconnects the call. He looks at Din, still tense under his hand, and Grogu, who is blinking up at both of them. Luke sighs. “So, I know how that sounded; let me preface any questions by saying my father stopped by for a surprise visit right as you left earlier.”

Din minutely relaxes, and Grogu lets out a heavy sigh. Luke grins at the two of them. “He’s extremely protective and sometimes he forgets about boundaries. It’s progress, and not - ideal, but it could be worse.”

Din shifts. “You need to go.” Grogu’s ears droop to match his father’s saddened tone and he offers a disappointed coo when Luke nods.

“Yes, or he really will try to come find me,” Luke answers apologetically. He runs the fingers of his left hand over the little hairs on Grogu’s head, enjoying the softness, and smiles at him when Grogu looks up at him. “But, I’ll see you both soon, right? I have Grogu in his lessons tomorrow.”

Din nods. “I’ll come by the shop.”

Luke smiles at him. “I’d like that.” He leans over to kiss Din’s helmet before standing up. “Before I go - the kavasa juice is from a youngling rebellion earlier; an entire bottle was Force-dumped over my head.”

Din pulls Grogu to his chest and stands up as well, chuckling lightly. “Of course it was.”

Luke grins and shrugs, hands on his hips. “These younglings are a handful.”

Din nods, his helmet tilting as he shifts Grogu further into the crook of his arm. The flower crown slid as he stood, so Luke steps closer to adjust it. He looks over Din’s visor, feeling a sudden jolt course through the Force - he’s managed to catch Din’s eyes beneath the dark pane of his visor, he feels it, and his smile grows in response. “Thank you for sharing your story with me.”

“I wanted to,” Din says softly, bringing his free hand up to cup Luke’s cheek. He rubs his thumb along Luke’s cheekbone, and Luke leans into the touch. “I want to share everything with you.”

Luke’s heart skips a beat and he brings his hand up to cover Din’s, turning to press a kiss to his palm and squeezing his eyes shut. He’s so happy and in love it’s a wonder he can contain it. “Din, I - I want you to meet my father. Not right now, but - soon, while he’s still visiting.”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika,” Din murmurs, stepping closer to tilt his forehead down to meet Luke’s. “Tell me when.”

Luke leans into him and nods. “I will.” He stays pressed to Din a little longer, heart pounding and hands trembling, when his comlink trills again. Luke heaves a heavy sigh and steps back; it’s Ahsoka again. He lets it ring through while he leans back in to press his lips to Din’s helmet, then to the top of Grogu’s head on impulse; he smiles at them apologetically. “I’ll see you both soon.”

Din nods while Grogu waves at him, and Luke takes one more look at the father and son in matching flower crowns, heart swelling and smile spreading on his face, before his comlink starts trilling again. Luke rolls his eyes, prompting a soft chuckle from Din, before he turns on his heels and opens the door. 

“Ahsoka, I’m on my way,” he says when he answers his comlink, waving one last time at Grogu and Din as he steps into the hallway before the door closes.

“He’s probably going to cut you off, then,” Ahsoka answers. “He’s on his way towards the dorms now.” 

Luke almost freezes; he starts walking faster to put more distance between himself and Din and Grogu. “Why? You said half an hour, it’s been like five minutes!”

“Well, someone has been projecting,” she says pointedly, and Luke shuts his eyes with a sigh. His face flames - seems like he hadn’t been able to contain his emotions, after all. “The whole temple knows where you are and that you’re extremely happy.”

Luke clears his throat and groans, running a hand over his face and through his crunchy hair. “Nothing else?”

“No, I think you pulled it in in time,” she answers. “But, I suggest you get up to your rooms. Obi-Wan is going to try to get to Anakin before he gets to you.”

Luke nods, clearing his throat when a Master walks by and gives him a thumbs up. “Well, this is already embarrassing.”

“Yup!” Ahsoka answers cheerfully. “We’ll see you soon, Little Skyguy!”

Luke sighs when she disconnects the call, smiling tightly at a Knight who beams and wiggles her eyebrows at him as she walks by. Luke’s shoulders sag; maybe he can use this to his advantage the next time the Council tries to offer him a seat and remind them about that one time he was so happy the love of his life agreed to meet his father that he just - projected it for the whole temple’s viewing pleasure.

That would involve telling them about Din, which Luke still isn’t too keen to do, but now - the decision may be out of his hands, if what Ahsoka said is true.

Maybe the Force is with him and Grand Master Yoda was out of the temple when it happened. 

Maybe. Hopefully.

Luke jabs his finger against the panel for the lift and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at the door while he waits for it to open. After a moment, he lets out a defeated sigh and shifts his posture. First his father, and now the looming possibility of the Council - it’s been a busy day for announcing his new relationship to the galaxy.

A commotion behind him draws his attention as the door for the lift beeps, and Luke looks over his shoulder to see Anakin Skywalker storming across the room with Obi-Wan Kenobi hot on his heels, their voices bouncing against the walls; it’s been quite some time since the two of them were galavanting through the temple together. A few Jedi scramble to get out of their way while others look on in awe, but it doesn’t seem that they’ve noticed Luke just yet. 

“I said I just wanted to meet him; he’s here, I’m here, it’s great timing.”

“Anakin, you need to let Luke decide -”

“He said I could! We talked earlier.”

“You’re referring to the talk you’ve called an interrogation?”

“Yeah, we talked, like I said.”

Luke sighs and pointedly clears his throat, intentionally raising his voice. Anakin stops abruptly and whips his face towards Luke; Obi-Wan bumps into his back with a quiet oof. A bright, dangerous smile, all teeth, breaks out on Anakin’s face. “Hey, there’s my son, surprisingly standing by himself! Where is he?”

“Hey, here I am,” Luke answers dryly, ignoring his father’s question. Obi-Wan rubs his chest and narrows his eyes at Anakin. “You’re early, Master Skywalker.”

Anakin visibly falters, and Obi-Wan presses his lips together to fight a smile. “I wanted to -”

“Cause a scene?” Luke cuts off cooly, and Anakin clears his throat. Obi-Wan folds his hands into the sleeves of his robes and raises his eyebrows at Luke. Luke knows that expression - he lets out a quiet breath through his nose and purses his lips, crossing the few feet left between him and his father. His father certainly looks fresher than when he saw him a few hours ago, but the wild look in his eyes is more than a little off-putting. “I told you I would talk to him,” he says quietly.

Anakin crosses his arms over his chest. “Now I want to talk to him.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says at the same time Luke says, “Dad.”  

Obi-Wan cuts Luke off with a quick glance; Luke rolls his eyes but relents, looking away with a shake of his head. “Anakin,” he continues, pulling Anakin’s attention. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have this discussion in a high-traffic area.”

Anakin lets out a sigh and drops his arms from his chest. “Fine.” Obi-Wan nods.

“We’ll go to my rooms,” Luke murmurs, turning on his heel and stepping back to the still open lift doors. He steps in with Anakin and Obi-Wan right behind him, turning to offer a weak smile to the few Jedi that still linger to watch them. It isn’t every day that Anakin Skywalker is back at the temple. Once the door is shut and his floor selected, Luke drops his face to his hands.

“Luke.”

“No.”

“Sunshine,” Anakin tries again, softer, and Luke heaves a massive sigh. “I just -”

“Dad,” Luke says softly, and he can hear Anakin shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clack. “If you really must know, I didn’t know he would be here today, but I spoke with him about - about meeting you, and he said he wanted to, and I just -” Luke rubs his face and turns to Anakin. His father’s eyes are wide and apologetic, the implication of his actions likely finally catching up to him. “I’m just so happy, Dad. Please don’t - scare him away, please.”

Anakin’s face softens, lips parting on a wistful smile, and he steps forward to wrap his arms around Luke. Luke clutches the back of his sweater tightly and buries his face against his father’s neck. “I’m sorry, Luke. I felt how happy you were, and I...wanted to be a part of it.”

Luke squeezes his arms tighter around his father, so glad to still be able to have this with him. For a long time, he didn’t. “You are, Dad; I’ll introduce you soon.” Anakin nods against his hair, fingers playing with the stiff ends over the nape of his neck. Luke feels Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing warmly, before he pulls away.

After a moment, Anakin sniffs, pressing his nose against Luke’s hair. Luke holds his breath and fights a grin when he sniffs again, pushing Luke back with his hands on his shoulders to look at him, confusion writ clear in his raised eyebrows.

“Why do you smell like that? What the hell was going on with that Mandalorian?”

Luke barks a laugh and shakes his head. “The younglings, Dad; a bottle of kavasa juice was dumped over my head.”

Anakin tosses his head back with a delighted laugh. “Was Snips there? Did she see it?”

Luke sighs, rolling his eyes. “Yes.”

Anakin squeezes his shoulders and grins. “I can’t wait to hear about it.”

Obi-Wan chuckles as well. “Things are going well then, Luke?”

Luke looks at his uncle out of the corner of his eye, eyebrows raised. “You mean for the task you volunteered me for without asking?”

Anakin looks over at Obi-Wan, faux surprise coloring his features. “No, that doesn’t sound like the Obi-Wan I know; he would never do such a thing.”

Obi-Wan lets out a sigh through his nose and folds his hands in the sleeves of his robes. He looks between Anakin and Luke and then back; the door for the lift dings and opens. “I don’t know why I ever agreed to deal with you both.”

“Oh come on, Master Kenobi,” Anakin starts, and Luke fights a grin. “You and I both know you lost a bet with someone.”

“Yes, my late master,” Obi-Wan grumbles. Anakin laughs and shakes his head, putting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and steering him from the lift. 

“You shouldn’t say that about Master Qui-Gon; you know he’s always listening.”

“I’m counting on it,” Obi-Wan snarks; Luke grins. He’s always heard from Ahsoka that Obi-Wan and Anakin were a spectacle during the Clone Wars and after, still working closely together, and seeing them interact in person is never dull.

Luke steps out after them, following along the hall behind his father and uncle, until they come to Ahsoka, leaning against the wall next to Luke’s door. She sags with relief when she sees them, high-fiving Anakin when he offers and smiling brightly at Luke.

“Sorry for running off, Snips,” Anakin apologizes; she snorts.

“Sure you are, Skyguy,” she answers, moving aside to let Luke unlock his door. “How’d you like the changes to the gardens you tore out of?”

“Oh they’re great,” Anakin says. “Sunshine does a fantastic job keeping them up.”

Luke sighs. “It’s not just me, Dad; I’m not here all the time.”

“Doesn’t matter; I can tell,” Anakin says simply, and Luke smiles briefly. He opens the door and steps aside, gesturing with his gloved hand.

“After you,” he says, and Ahsoka winks at him as she steps in, followed closely by Anakin and Obi-Wan. It only takes a few seconds before the train stops, and Luke pivots around Obi-Wan to prevent his nose from colliding with the back of his uncle’s head.

“Kelari, my darling!” Anakin croons, moving around where Ahsoka has stopped to cross the floor to Luke’s couch, his arms outstretched. Kelari sits on the back of the couch facing the door and immediately perks up when Anakin and Luke step in. She chitters back at Anakin and reaches out for him as well; his father lets out a delighted laugh and scoops her to his chest.

“Luke Skywalker.” Luke winces, turning slightly to his uncle. Obi-Wan stands next to Ahsoka, his eyes fixed on where Anakin is scratching Kelari’s chin and tummy. “What have you done.”

R2 rolls into the room to announce that Luke has adopted another attachment against his recommendation, then moves to close the door; he isn’t quiet when he continues to grumble about Luke now needing to be more careful with leaving doors open - that’s what got them into this mess in the first place.

Luke spins on his heels and wags a finger at R2. “Artoo, you like Kelari! Lighten up, will ya?”

R2 spins his dome and grouses that he does like her, but that doesn’t make this any better of an idea. Ahsoka covers her mouth to hide a grin, and Obi-Wan slowly turns to look at R2 then Luke.

“Artoo is right, Luke,” he starts sternly; Luke knows where this is going. “At this rate, we’re going to have to schedule a meeting with the Council to ensure we aren’t missing anything.”

Luke scoffs, dropping a hand to the top of R2’s dome. “What does it matter, Uncle? Attachments are allowed; besides, Kelari was a stray - no home, no family, surviving all on her own. The Force brought her into the shop, so are you saying the Council would rather I turn her away?”

Obi-Wan sighs and strokes his beard, looking back to Anakin. Ahsoka has wandered over to stand next to Anakin and wiggles her fingers at Kelari, who shrinks back into Anakin’s chest and stares at her with wide eyes. “No, Luke; no one would rather want that.”

Luke smirks. “Then it’s settled - she’s staying.”

Obi-Wan frowns. “Pets aren’t allowed at the temple.”

“Says who?” Ahsoka asks; Kelari has tentatively reached out and wrapped her fingers around Ahsoka’s index finger. Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows at her, but Anakin has also redirected his attention to Obi-Wan. “I don’t remember that rule.”

“Discouraged, then,” Obi-Wan begrudgingly amends; Anakin rolls his eyes at him. 

“Listen, my Master,” he starts, and Obi-Wan visibly heaves a sigh. “Luke is a Jedi Master; if he wants a kriffing pet, he’s getting a kriffing pet.” Anakin looks down and smiles at Kelari. “Besides, she’s not hurting anyone.”

“She is pretty cute,” Ahsoka adds.

Luke grins at them both before turning back to Obi-Wan; he huffs that long-suffering sigh of his and rolls his eyes. “Fine; the Kowakian stays.” He quirks his eyebrows at Luke, expression stern. “When the Council finds out -”

“Who cares what the Council thinks?” Anakin groans. “Luke is almost thirty; he’s not a youngling anymore. What he does on his own time is his own business.” Luke smiles softly at his father; Anakin winks at him. “Besides, if they have a problem, send them to me.”

“Anakin, we are the Council,” Obi-Wan says patiently, as if he were speaking to a particularly difficult youngling. Luke was a youngling when Obi-Wan had to manage him, Leia, and Anakin at the same time - it’s a wonder his hair hasn’t all fallen out. “We will handle it; you know that Grand Master Yoda is looking at Luke to take his chair -”

Luke opens his mouth to refute but Anakin cuts him off.

“No,” Anakin snaps, eyes blazing. R2 lets out a surprised beep; Kelari and Ahsoka both still and stare up at him, but Anakin’s eyes are locked on Obi-Wan. “My son will not be manipulated; Luke has said no twice. If that old frog wants to pressure him again, he can do it in front of me.”

“Master,” Ahsoka says softly, putting a hand on Anakin’s bicep. Anakin relaxes slightly, but doesn’t look at her. “No one is pressuring Luke; I won’t let that happen.”

“Yoda sees great promise in Luke. We all do,” Obi-Wan continues; Anakin tenses again. “But Ahsoka is right - no one is pressuring him.”

“Yet,” Luke adds, and four pairs of eyes spin on him. He shifts his weight. “No one is pressuring me yet; what happens when it stops being my choice?”

“No, Luke, we won’t let that happen,” Ahsoka says with conviction.

“Simple,” Anakin answers, leaning his weight on the back of the couch and crossing his legs at the ankle. He shifts Kelari higher in his arms. “When it stops becoming your choice, leave.”

Luke blinks; Obi-Wan sharply turns his gaze back on Anakin. “Anakin.”

“What? That one’s easy,” Anakin continues with a nonchalant shrug. “Tell Yoda to kriff off or Luke leaves the Order.”

R2 rocks restlessly beside Luke, cautiously wondering if it’s really that easy? Luke is thinking the same thing. His father retired, but that is certainly different than leaving altogether. Would he truly entertain the idea of leaving the Order?

“No Artoo, it isn’t that easy,” Obi-Wan says, voice tight. “Nor do I think an ultimatum is the right course of action, either; we will help Luke, Anakin. You have my word.”

Anakin nods and relaxes completely, a tired smile making its way back to his face. “I know, brother.”

Ahsoka lets out a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks. “Well, that was heavy. You’re in rare form, Skyguy.”

Anakin shrugs. “I haven’t seen you guys in awhile.”

Luke snorts. “Well he has a lot to catch up on, you know.”

“Clearly,” Ahsoka says flatly, sparking a laugh from Anakin. She flicks her eyes back to Luke. “And this isn’t even half of it, right?”

Luke clears his throat and tugs at his tunic collar. “Can I get a shower first, please?”

Obi-Wan chuckles and puts his hand between Luke’s shoulder blades, pushing him towards his sleeping quarters. “Go; we’ll keep Anakin out of trouble.”

“And who’s going to keep you out of trouble?” Anakin quips.

“Kelari,” Ahsoka says with a grin, prompting a chitter from Kelari. Luke shakes his head with a fond smile, shutting the door for his quarters behind him.

Luke is showered and changed into lounge wear quickly, the kavasa juice and tension now down the drain, and pads back out into the main sitting area of his rooms to see covered dishes and trays on his little table. He rubs a towel over his hair, dropping it over his shoulder, as he carefully walks over. “Are we not going downstairs?”

“Artoo and I went to get it,” Obi-Wan answers from his seat on Luke’s couch, mug of tea in hand. “Ahsoka made a valid point - between Anakin and Kelari, we likely wouldn’t be eating alone for long.”

Luke nods. “Good thinking.”

“I know!” Ahsoka chirps; she’s sitting on the floor, floating one of the wooden balls from the younglings’ training session around for Kelari. “Also had one of those nanny droids bring up some toys for Kelari; just a few things for now, but we absolutely have to go get her more.”

She Force-pushes the ball over to Anakin, sitting next to Obi-Wan, who carefully pushes it back; Kelari jumps up to catch it. “Imagine how cute she’ll look in little Jedi robes,” Anakin says, and Luke snorts a laugh.

“Sure, I’ll get right on that,” he says; Kelari looks at him with wide eyes, and he subtly shakes his head at her. She relaxes and tosses the ball back to Anakin.

“Shall we eat, then?” Obi-Wan asks; R2 beeps that he’s still full from his lunch and not really hungry but thanks anyway, triggering a laugh from the rest of the group. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes with a grin. “Still cheeky, I see.”

Luke’s small table can only hold so much; between the fruit, bread, stew, salad, and tea set, there isn’t enough room for all of them to also have a place setting, so they each load up their plates and move back to the sitting room. Anakin carefully hands a small bowl of stew to Kelari, telling her to let it cool, before grabbing his own and sitting back down next to Obi-Wan. Luke takes his salad and sits with his back to the couch, his shoulder occasionally brushing his father’s knee.

Kelari carefully watches Ahsoka lift a spoonful of stew to her mouth and blow on it before eating it, mimicking her when she takes her own bite. Luke watches with a smile.

Ahsoka notices Kelari’s careful scrutiny and grins. “Little Skyguy, what’s Kelari’s story?”

R2 chirps that she broke into the shop, threatened to kill him, stabbed Luke, then terrorized them both until Luke agreed to house the heathen. Ahsoka snorts and covers her mouth, and Obi-Wan coughs roughly. Luke sighs, feeling Anakin’s silent sniggers jolt his knee against Luke’s shoulder. 

“That’s an oversimplification of events,” Luke says, grinning over at R2. Kelari huffs and keeps her snout in her stew. “She didn’t threaten me, I offered. Although she did stab me.”

Remorseful embarrassment rolls off Kelari into the Force, and Ahsoka coos at her. “It’s okay, Kelari; Luke’s fine.”

Luke holds up his bandage-free index finger and waves it at Kelari, a faint pink line on the pad of his finger. “I am, see? All healed up; nothing a little bacta patch couldn’t handle.”

She looks from Ahsoka to Luke, then sets her bowl down and crawls over to him; she sits across from him, her tail curled in close, and takes his hand in hers. Kelari studies the fading line for a moment, then nuzzles her snout into Luke’s hand in apology. Ahsoka awwws and Anakin clicks his tongue. “Do you see how cute this is, Obi-Wan? No way you could say no to keeping her around.”

Obi-Wan grunts. “I’ve already been convinced, Anakin; believe me when I say you don’t need to keep trying.”

Luke snorts and shakes his head; Kelari slinks away for her bowl, then comes back and settles into Luke’s lap to keep eating, prompting another round of ooo’ing from Anakin and Ahsoka. R2 grumbles that they really should work on how easily distracted they all get. Ahsoka grins at him. “Artoo, we still love you, I promise.”

R2 defensively trills that he knows that! After a pause, he beeps his thanks. Luke grins down into his salad.

The rest of the meal is peppered with menial conversation. Anakin listens as Ahsoka details her trips off-world, Obi-Wan drawls on about Council and Senate business that Anakin comments on, and R2 interjects with his own adventures and recent spa trip; Luke and Kelari finish eating quietly, listening. When they’re both done, Luke stacks their bowls together and sets them on an end table, resettling Kelari in his lap so he can stretch his legs out in front of him.

He misses having his family together; even without Leia and his mother there, it reminds him of growing up on Naboo, when Ahsoka and Obi-Wan would visit with off-world trinkets and stories. Luke leans his shoulder firmly against his father’s knee, and Anakin drops his hand to the crown of Luke’s head, running his flesh fingers through his damp hair to work out the tangles. Luke closes his eyes, content, listening to the cadence of his father’s voice and laughter.

The only thing that would make this better is having Din there. Luke’s heart stutters at the thought; despite Anakin’s behavior earlier and the rest of the questions he knows is coming, he’s still excited to introduce Din to Anakin.

Anakin must feel the shift in Luke because he clears his throat. “Sunshine.”

Luke cracks his eyes open to see that Kelari has settled into a soft doze, her head lolling against his bicep. “Yes, Dad?”

“You comfortable?”

Luke can’t help his sigh. “Something tells me I’m about to not be.”

Anakin ruffles his hair. “Not at all; I’ve just got a few questions.”

Luke groans and straightens up, careful not to jostle Kelari. “Sure you do.”

Anakin chuckles and drops his hand to the back of Luke’s neck, squeezing lightly. “Just a few, Sunshine, then I’ll save the rest for when I meet him.”

Luke swallows - that doesn’t really help him feel any better. Now he regrets feeling excited to introduce his father and Din. Funny how hindsight works. “I’m suddenly deaf.”

“No problem, we can talk through the Force.”

“I forgot Basic.”

“We’ll use Gunganese, then.”

“Dad.”

“Sunshine.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan admonishes, tone dry but fond. “I see you still have an answer for everything.”

“What’s new about that, Master?” Ahsoka adds, standing smoothly and moving around the sitting room to collect their discarded dishes. Luke smiles gratefully at her when she scoops up their bowls, and she winks at him. “Just ask already.”

“Fine,” Anakin snaps without heat. “How long have you known him?”

Luke pauses. “A few weeks, now. Maybe a month and a half.”

“Is he good to you?” Anakin asks carefully, and Luke turns to look over his shoulder at his father. Anakin’s eyes are serious, his mouth pulled into a thin line, but expression otherwise blank.

“Yes,” Luke says simply, a truly massive understatement, but the corner of Anakin’s lips pull in a brief smile.

“They’re cute together, Skyguy,” Ahsoka says, tapping Luke’s shoulder and offering him a cup of tea. Luke takes it with a smile. She settles across from Luke on the floor and cradles her own cup in both hands. “Din took Luke on a date to the Skydome.”

“The Skydome?” Anakin asks, impressed. “First date?” When Luke nods, Anakin hums. “Sounds like he’s trying to get into your pants.”

Luke chokes on his tea and sputters, startling Kelari awake with a yelp, and starts coughing into his elbow; his face is on fire. Ahsoka snorts an undignified laugh while R2 adds his own beeping laughter to the mix. “Dad!”

“What? You’re a handsome guy, I’m just saying,” Anakin defends, and Obi-Wan sighs.

“Perhaps he just took Luke there because he thought he would like to go?” Obi-Wan drawls, and Ahsoka nods, her laughter now under control as she grins into her cup.

“He was here visiting his son and asked me what I thought Luke may like to do,” she says, smiling wider when Kelari sleepily crawls over to sit in her lap. Luke knew that Ahsoka had suggested the Skydome to Din, but hearing that Din had intentionally asked her about him - Luke clears his throat one last time and tries for another sip of tea, biting his bottom lip on a smile.

“That’s why you were in the dorms,” Anakin says with a snap of his fingers. “I thought you might have snuck off into a storage closet.”

Luke sputters into his cup again, this time dribbling tea down his chin, and just gives up on it. He puts the cup aside and wipes his mouth with the towel still over his shoulder. “Dad - you’re killing me. I wouldn’t -”

R2 decides to throw in his two credits and adds not to believe Luke for a second, he has confirmation from an extremely reliable source that Luke isn’t a stranger to making out in an empty room.

Luke’s jaw drops open - he never thought he would live to see the day that R2, his own best friend and astromech and family, would betray him like this. Ahsoka immediately starts laughing so hard that her face turns scarlet, Kelari grunting as she’s squished to Ahsoka’s chest; Anakin slowly turns to look at Luke, his hand tightening on his neck again. Obi-Wan is suspiciously silent, but Luke doesn’t doubt that they’re all thinking about the same result from that particular situation.

“What’s Artoo talking about, Sunshine?” Anakin asks lightly, but Luke isn’t fooled. He remembers when Anakin had caught Leia and Han together early in their relationship, and that had been dangerous - Anakin still teases Leia about it and will forever hold it over Han’s head. 

His father’s eyes bore into the side of Luke’s face, waiting.

Luke will wait him out; he’s just as determined and stubborn as his father.

Anakin continues to stare, silent.

Luke swallows; he can’t take it anymore. “We kissed - a little - in the shop break room! That’s all!”

R2 chortles and adds that that absolutely isn’t true. Luke could just throw something at him. He hazards a look at his father and sees one of his eyebrows raised. “The shop?”

Luke squirms and brushes Anakin’s hand away from the back of his neck; his father lets him go easily, but Luke knows it’s just for show. “We, uh, got caught in the sprinklers on the roof and needed to dry off; he was fine because of his armor, but I was soaked so I, uh, took off my shirt -”

Obi-Wan lets out a choked laugh that he quickly smothers, and Luke watches both of Anakin’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead while his jaw drops. He whips his head around to glare at Obi-Wan. “Don’t laugh, old man, this is all your kriffing fault and you know it.”

Ahsoka cackles, burying her face in Kelari’s fur, and Obi-Wan loses the fight to hide his chuckles. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Anakin scoffs and rolls his eyes, looking back at Luke. He’s too quiet while his eyes roam Luke’s flushed face and wide eyes. “That’s where this came from, I take it?” He leans forward and pokes Luke in a patch of skin right below his ear, and the entire room falls abruptly silent.

Luke - has no idea how Anakin even noticed, the mark is so faded it’s like it isn’t even there; who else could have seen it? The younglings? Master Billaba? Oh, Force, did Master Windu notice? Great, now he’s starting to panic -

“How the hell did you even see that, Anakin?” Ahsoka blurts, and Anakin shrugs.

“It’s obvious,” is all he offers, and Luke groans and drops his face to his palms, drawing his knees up. He pulls the towel from his shoulder over his head and neck, still groaning. This is his life now.

“I’m going to become one with the Force, you all can see yourselves out,” Luke murmurs, and Anakin laughs loud and bright.

“I so can’t wait to meet this guy,” he says, tone dark and too eager, and Luke lifts his head quickly, the towel sliding off.

“Dad,” he pleads, suddenly desperate. He can’t set Din up for an ambush like this. “Don’t hold it against him, I was practically asking for it -”

“Not helping!” Obi-Wan interjects.

“- and we’ve only kissed...once...” Luke trails off, Obi-Wan’s words catching up to him while he notices Ahsoka frantically clearing her throat and shaking her head. “Uh.”

“That’s not making finding a hickey on you any better, Sunshine!” Anakin says with a feral grin, his voice high. “And that’s also complete bantha shit, I literally just saw you kissing him.”

“It was his hand, I just kissed his hand!” Luke counters, and Anakin barks a disbelieving laugh.

“Luke, my first-born, my sweet son, the sunshine of my life,” Anakin says gently, leaning over towards him; Luke scrambles to back up but isn’t fast enough. His father firmly takes Luke’s face in both of his hands and locks eyes with him. “We’ve all spent a lot of time with the Mandalorians. How do you think they kiss with those helmets in the way all the time?”

Luke just - blinks at him, looking into his father’s patient eyes. “Huh?”

Anakin gives him an indulgent smile but doesn’t say anything else.

Luke thinks back to the first time Din pressed his helmet against Luke’s forehead in front of the blood orchids, how significant and intimate it felt, and each time since - Din’s deep voice when he would speak to Luke as they pressed close, his hands wrapping around Luke’s neck or arms or chest to pull him closer, sometimes with unveiled urgency that never failed to spike Luke’s pulse and steal his breath.

R2’s comment about interrupting them kissing in cold storage, that Luke hadn’t understood, is starting to make more sense.

Force, Luke had just told Din earlier how much he loves when he’s close and presses his forehead against him, how much he loves when it Din apparently kisses him, and Luke -

“Today is a day of firsts for our young Luke, it seems,” Obi-Wan comments lightly from behind Anakin, and Luke’s entire face drains of blood before it all rushes back and makes him dizzy.

R2 and Ahsoka’s howling laughter isn’t helping, either.

Chapter Text

For someone who didn’t want to be anywhere near the temple, Anakin surprisingly decides to sleep on Luke’s couch for the night. He cheerily sends Ahsoka and Obi-Wan on their way shortly after Luke continues his crisis on the floor in front of the couch, tasking them with taking their dishes down. He covers what’s left of the fruit and bread, steps into the ‘fresher with Kelari, and then comes back out to haul Luke up off the floor.

“Alright, Sunshine, time to sleep it off,” he says, and Luke just hums at him.

He guides Luke to his bed, turns down the sheet and duvet and tucks Luke in like he did when he was a youngling. It takes Luke too long to realize Anakin hasn’t lost that indulgent smile the entire time, and now he looks up at where his father is sitting on the edge of his bed, his cybernetic fingers carding through Luke’s messy hair.

“Kelari’s staying in here with you. I showed her how to use the ‘fresher,” he says, fingers soothing on Luke’s scalp. “I’m stealing some clothes and extra blankets, and I’ll be right outside the door, killing my back on your awful couch if you need me.”

“You can sleep here, Dad,” Luke murmurs, already drowsy from his father fondly playing with his hair. “I’ll take the couch.”

“I think you’ve had enough change today, Sunshine,” Anakin answers softly. His eyes are so blue they seem to glow in the dark of Luke’s room; Luke wonders if his eyes do the same. “I love you, Luke.”

“Love you too, Dad,” Luke slurs, eyes finally sliding shut. He feels Anakin drop a kiss to his hair and stand; his weight is replaced with the lighter presence of Kelari, who carefully curls up against Luke’s shoulder. He hears the door for his quarters close, and then that’s it.

Luke wakes up in the morning to his usual alarm and Kelari snoring softly, miraculously sleeping right through the shrill beeping. He groans and sits up with a sigh, silencing the stupid thing, and runs his hands over his face. 

Memories from the day before come crashing back in, and Luke groans as he falls back to his pillow. Kelari wakes with a startled snort before letting out a truly massive yawn for such a little thing.

Luke closes his eyes again; yesterday was insane.

First his father’s surprise visit, finding out about Grogu being Din’s son - Luke feels like an idiot all over again, embarrassment flooding him at how he kept repeatedly asking to meet Din’s son when he already had several kriffing times - and having to have his father explain to him he’s been kissing Din multiple times a day without even realizing it which completely changes the context of when he told Din how much he loves it - 

Luke groans and rolls onto his stomach, smothering his face into his pillow. Adding insult to his embarrassed misery, Anakin somehow noticed what’s left of the mark Din left on his neck five cycles ago - it’s no wonder his father had been such a good general and Jedi, nothing escapes his attention. 

He supposes it could have been worse; Anakin could have walked in on him with his hand down Din’s pants like he had with Leia and Han a few years ago. The thought immediately swoops Luke’s stomach and brings a flush to his face - he clears his throat and tries to fight the image of Din his mind unhelpfully supplies him with, covering his head with his other pillow and groaning again.

In the grand scheme of things, it could have been worse than just seeing the galaxy’s most faded hickey ever .

Kelari chitters and taps Luke’s shoulder, tugging on the pillow over his head. He presses his lips together and holds on, not wanting to start his day quite yet, when the door to his sleeping quarters slides open.

Luke scrambles to push himself up, turning wide eyes to see his father standing in the doorway with his hair sticking up in all directions. The sleeping clothes he borrowed from Luke to sleep in are comically small; Anakin is taller than Luke, so both the tank and pants are too short and expose inches of Anakin’s stomach and hairy ankles.

Luke tries to fight a smile and fails, laughing quietly at how absurd his life is right now.

“Morning, Sunshine!” Anakin chirps, voice rough from sleep; he grins when he notices Luke laughing. “Why in the hells do you have an alarm set this early?”

“Meditation,” Luke answers; Anakin groans.

“I do not miss that,” he grumbles, dropping a hand to scratch his exposed stomach; Luke snorts another laugh. “Since you’ve woken me up, I get the ‘fresher first.”

“Sure,” Luke relents, and waves his father off. Anakin shuts the door behind him as Luke looks down at Kelari as she crawls into his lap. Her bright eyes are wide, but rested.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, and she nods. Luke jerks his head towards the sitting room. “Let’s get you something from last night.”

Luke skips his morning meditation, opting to dice what is left of the juicemelon for Kelari and fold up the blankets Anakin left strewn across the couch. He’s finished putting the blankets away and is just sitting down to polish his boots when R2’s little closet door opens. 

He beeps his greeting to Luke and asks where Anakin is; Luke keeps his eyes on his boots and nods towards his room. “Primping in the ‘fresher.”

R2 laughs and rolls over to bump against Luke’s thigh, lens spinning towards him as he asks how Luke is doing. Luke smiles at him, glad that R2 is asking after him.

“I’m fine, Artoo, thank you,” he sighs, buffing out a particularly harsh scuff. “Just - still taking in all that was yesterday.”

R2 trills that Luke did admirably well, in his opinion - although, he still isn’t sure how Luke didn’t know Din had been smooching on him for days now. Luke’s face immediately flushes and he clears his throat, eyes stubbornly down on his boots.

“Oh Artoo, cut him a break,” Anakin announces. Luke looks up to see him sweeping into the room, dressed again in the clothes he arrived in the day before and cap pulled over his hair; Luke frowns, knowing his father must be uncomfortable, but doesn’t offer him any more too small alternatives.

Anakin takes the chair across from Luke with a sigh, patting R2’s dome affectionately on the way. Kelari waves at him, her mouth full of fruit, and he smiles at her. He turns his eyes to Luke. “‘Fresher’s free.”

“Yeah, I’ll get in there in a minute,” Luke answers. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not too bad,” Anakin says, resting his chin on his fist. “I already cracked my back in about a million different ways.”

“You want me to walk on it?” Luke offers, trading his right boot for the left.

“I’ll live,” Anakin replies, and Luke nods. He’s quiet for a moment, eyes on Luke. “How about you, Luke?”

“I slept fine,” Luke says shortly, taking the easy answer. He knows that isn’t what his father is asking, but he isn’t sure what he wants to say. Anakin doesn’t press and continues to watch Luke polish his boot. Kelari finishes her fruit and crawls over from where she had been sitting on the table to Anakin. He smiles at her and scratches under her chin.

“Want me to give Kelari a bath?” Anakin says, and Luke pauses.

“That would be - great, actually.” Luke looks up to meet his father’s kind expression. “All I had to wash her with yesterday was the hand soap at the shop.”

“I’ll be back in a moment, then,” Anakin says, scooping Kelari to his chest; she gives a startled squeak before she settles. “Time for a trip to the spa, darling!”

Luke grins at them as Anakin disappears back into Luke’s sleeping quarters to the ‘fresher, glancing down at his chronometer. He has plenty of time before he has to be at the shop; he goes back to his polishing. “Artoo, would you call down for some breakfast for us?”

R2 agrees and heads over to a panel by the entrance to Luke’s rooms, beeping into the speaker for a meal for two and a small pet. Luke sighs as he finishes his other boot, setting them aside, as he wanders back into his sleeping quarters. It doesn’t take long for the food to be delivered by a protocol droid; Luke finishes making his bed the same time Anakin steps back out with a sparkling Kelari. R2 announces from the other room that everything is ready, and Anakin claps Luke’s shoulder on his way back out.

Luke slips into the ‘fresher to wash his face and brush his teeth, rolling his eyes fondly at the other two toothbrushes resting near his sink. He runs a brush through his hair and decides to just take a quick shower after they eat before he heads out for the day.

Anakin has already cut the kavasa fruit and juicemelon into squares when Luke sits down; he and Kelari are tucking into their eggs and bantha sausage as Luke uncovers the oatmeal R2 ordered for him and adds a few fruit chunks. The smell of caf wafts up and calms Luke, and he smiles his thanks at R2.

“What do you have to do today, Dad?” Luke asks after half of his caf is gone and his attention is back on his breakfast.

Anakin hums, popping a piece of kavasa fruit into his mouth. “Your sister is likely wondering where I am by now, so I’ll head back over there.” He holds the end of his fork between his teeth while he adds sugar to his caf and stirs, eyes on Luke, before taking the fork back in hand. “Do you need help in the shop today?”

Luke remembers Din saying he was going to come by, and shakes his head - Luke needs to talk to him, preferably without Anakin within a few miles’ radius. “I should be fine today, but can you come tomorrow? I have a lot of orders to catch up on unrelated to the Rodian wedding I could use your help with. Ahsoka has offered to help, too, once we’re done with the younglings.”

Anakin nods and takes a sip of his caf. “I’ll be there. Having those younglings to watch cuts into your free time, I’m sure.”

Luke scoffs and rolls his eyes with a smile. “No kidding; I feel like Uncle Ben did it on purpose.”

“He probably did,” Anakin agrees, patting Kelari’s back when she coughs a little. “Slow down, darling. Obi-Wan always does have impeccable timing.”

“Yeah,” Luke notes. He taps his nails on the edge of his bowl in thought. “Although, had I not been there yesterday, who knows how long it would have been before I finally realized who Din’s son is.”

“Excellent point; you should tell me about that,” Anakin says, taking another bite of eggs. 

Luke’s eyes flutter close, his face heating from embarrassment. “It’s - really terrible, Dad.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You’re going to be so disappointed in me.”

“Try me, Sunshine,” Anakin quips, and Luke cracks an eye open to see Anakin smiling softly at him. Luke sighs and folds his arms over the table.

“I told you he was buying flowers for his son,” Luke starts carefully; Anakin nods. “So he’s been doing this every three days - which is so sweet, Dad - and there was a day I had to close the shop early to help with the younglings -” 

“Ah, this must have been the day you were late meeting the transport,” Anakin says, and Luke freezes.

“You heard about that?” Luke asks sheepishly. Anakin pops another kavasa fruit cube into his mouth and raises his eyebrows as he chews.

“It’s Jar Jar’s cousin that runs that little operation, Sunshine.”

Luke ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck; he had forgotten about that. “Sorry, Dad. I had a good reason.”

“He said you gave him more credits than usual to buy his silence.”

“Dad! That’s not true!”

Anakin starts laughing so hard he coughs; Kelari reaches over to pat his back the way he had done for her a few minutes before. “I’m kidding, Luke, I don’t care if you’re late for that. It’s not like he’s got anything else to do.” Anakin smiles his thanks at Kelari, then nods at Luke. “Go on.”

Luke gives him a wary look but continues: “Anyway, I was leading a meditation session in the gardens and here comes this cute little green youngling, making his way over to me with starflowers in his hand -”

“Green?” Anakin interrupts again, eyebrows raised. Luke nods.

“Yeah, he’s Master Yoda’s species.”

Anakin is quiet for a moment. “And he’s your boyfriend’s son?”

Luke’s face warms in response to Anakin calling Din his boyfriend, and nods again. “Yeah.”

Anakin blinks, then takes a slow sip of his caf. “I now have so many questions.”

“As opposed to the astronomical amount you had before?” Luke snarks, and Anakin grins.

“Guilty. Keep going, Sunshine,” Anakin says with a wave of his hand.

“Right - so Grogu comes up to me and introduces himself, and he’s got my starflowers in his hand. Dad, I didn’t realize it at the time, but he brought me my starflowers, the ones I gave Din to bring to him,” Luke says, a smile breaking out on his face. Anakin smiles back at him. “We made flower crowns from them; then a few days later, Uncle Ben called me back to the temple to help with a Jogan fruit coup involving the younglings, and there was little Grogu orchestrating the entire thing - I’ve met Din’s son twice now at this point, and I still had no idea.”

Anakin snorts. “Sunshine.”

“I know, I know, I’m an idiot,” Luke admonishes himself, swirling his spoon into his oatmeal with an embarrassed shake of his head. “All this time too, I’d been asking Din when I could meet his son.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Anakin states, taking a sip of his caf. “And you said that he told you ‘soon’?”

“Yes, and I didn’t realize he was teasing me, either,” Luke continues, looking up into his father’s smiling eyes. “He thought I knew - hell, Ahsoka thought I knew. Yesterday I spent the entire lesson carrying Grogu around in my arms. Then the parents are coming in for their visitation, and everyone’s picked up except Grogu. I’m getting worried, so I turn to Ahsoka and ask -”

“Oh no,” Anakin says, shoulders shaking as he’s trying to suppress his laughter.

“Oh yes - I ask if Grogu has anyone coming for him, and she outright refused to tell me.”

“Snips,” Anakin says fondly, and Luke grins.

“Imagine my surprise when Din walks in with yet another arrangement I’ve made for him for Grogu, and I’ve got his son in my arms,” Luke finishes. He leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head at himself. 

“How’d that go?”

“I tripped over nothing and fell on my ass, Dad.”

Anakin barks a laugh, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Snips?”

“Howled with laughter and made no attempt to help me in any way.”

R2 pipes up from where he had been listening on the other side of the room that this is what happens when he isn’t with Luke - he misses all the good stuff.

Luke rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t think you’re off the hook about last night, Artoo.” Luke raises his eyebrows when R2 snarks back that what he said certainly wasn’t news to most of the room. “Are you kidding? Do I have to tell you specifically what was wrong with that?”

R2 beeps a huff and spins his lens to Anakin and asks his opinion.

Anakin sniggers and looks down at where he’s gathering the last bit of his sausage and eggs together. “I don’t think you want my opinion on this one, Artoo - remember that time you ratted me out to Master Koon about staying in Padmé’s quarters during an escort mission?”

R2 shrilly beeps that they were already married, what did it matter? Luke’s eyebrows raise as Anakin chokes lightly on his last bite. Kelari pats his back with more fervor than before, and Luke fights a smirk.

“That’s exactly why it mattered, Artoo,” Anakin says hoarsely after he clears his throat. “Only you, Threepio, Obi-Wan, and Snips knew!”

R2 pauses, then begrudgingly beeps that he supposes that makes sense, in hindsight. Anakin shakes his head and takes a sip of his caf. “Anyway, just let it go next time, Artoo.”

“Please?” Luke tacks on, and R2 beeps a groan at them both. “I trust you Artoo; please?”

R2 spins his lens towards Luke and trills an apology; Luke has already forgiven him - he knows R2 wasn’t being malicious - but plays it up, huffing a large sigh just to watch R2 rock nervously in place. “I suppose I can forgive you this time.”

Anakin raises his mug in a facsimile of a toast before taking another sip when R2 chirps a little cheer. 

“Now that that’s settled,” Anakin continues, gathering his utensils together in one hand while he stacks Kelari’s empty plate on top of his. “What does your sister think of all this?”

Luke freezes, spoonful of oatmeal halfway to his mouth. He swallows, then finishes bringing his spoon to his mouth to buy more time. When that doesn’t help deter Anakin’s expectant gaze, he takes a breath. “She doesn’t know.”

Anakin holds his caf mug in both hands and raises his eyebrows at Luke, looking over the rim at him. “When was the last time you two spoke?”

Luke actually needs to think for a moment. “It’s been over a month - maybe two?”

Anakin sighs through his nose and drains the rest of his mug before setting it aside and lacing his fingers together on the table. Kelari takes the opportunity to situate herself on the table in the space between Anakin’s chest and his arms, leaning back against Anakin with a sleepy sigh. He keeps his eyes on Luke when he asks, “Why?”

Luke can tell his father is disappointed. “It’s not intentional, Dad. I know how busy she is with the Senate, so I try not to bother her.”

“You know she’s never too busy for you,” Anakin says, reminding Luke of when Ahsoka told him the same thing. He keeps his eyes on Luke, expression suddenly shrewd. “Have you been talking to anyone about Din, then?”

“Ahsoka and Uncle Ben,” Luke answers, and Anakin drops his head back with a groan. 

“Snips I get - but Obi-Wan? Really?”  

“I needed his guidance!” Luke defends. This last part of the conversation is eerily parallel to the one he had with Ahsoka; Luke understands where she gets it from, but Force, he always seems to defend Uncle Ben for some reason. “I didn’t understand what was happening with the Force around Din!”

Anakin tilts his head at Luke. “You said the Force was reminding you, before - what do you mean by that?”

Luke shifts in discomfort, hazarding a glance down at his chronometer. He still has time to take a shower before leaving, if he explains quickly. “The Force screams contradictions at me, Dad; sometimes it makes me feel anxious and wanting, sometimes it sings and I’m relaxed and content. I can feel him before he’s in the room, hyper aware of him when he is, and I miss him so fiercely I ache when he isn’t.” Luke pauses and licks his lips, his eyes on his cooled breakfast. “It’s - an amazing feeling, honestly, but the best part is -”

“You feel like you’re home,” Anakin finishes softly; Luke snaps his eyes up and blinks at his father.

“How did you know?”

Anakin faintly smiles, a faraway look in his eyes. “That’s how I feel around your mother.”

Luke takes a shuddering breath and feels tears prick his eyes. “Really?”

Anakin nods, reaching across Luke’s small table to put his cybernetic hand on Luke’s forearm, squeezing. “I understand.”

Luke blinks, and a tear slides down his cheek. “You - I should’ve - Dad.”

“It’s something special, Luke,” Anakin continues, thumb rubbing against Luke’s skin. “It’s the beginning of a Force-bond.”

Luke furrows his brows, suddenly confused. “I don’t feel this way with my bond with you or Uncle Ben or anyone else.”

Anakin’s soft smile grows. “That’s what makes this special, Luke. This was chosen by the Force.”

Luke’s stomach plummets as tears gather again, his heart pounding painfully. That’s exactly what he had been worrying about. “Does that - are these feelings not my own, then? Are Din’s feelings -”

“No, Sunshine, no,” Anakin says soothingly. He lets go of Luke to steady Kelari before standing, dragging his chair around the side of the table to sit closer to Luke; Kelari watches them both with worried eyes. He gently takes one of Luke’s hands in his and wipes the tears from Luke’s eyes with a careful thumb. “The complete opposite, actually.”

“How?” Luke asks thickly; he feels choked, suddenly, and now that the tears have started he can’t stop them, but Anakin doesn’t seem to mind. He continues to rub them away, moisture gathering on the leather of his glove. “I thought I wasn’t alone anymore, Dad, please don’t tell me -”

“You’re not, Luke,” Anakin says softly. “These bonds are there to guide. From what little research I was able to find on these, they’re extremely rare - you have to have an incredibly strong connection to the Force. You and I fit the bill, Sunshine.”

Luke searches his father’s eyes. “But - how?”

“The Force simply guided you two together, but what came next was up to you,” Anakin continues. “I was so young when I met your mother, but I knew I wanted to be with her forever. That was before I even knew what the Force was or how to feel it. Those feelings are still my own just like yours, and her feelings are her own like Din’s are. Do you understand?”

Luke takes another shuddering breath - Din isn’t Force-sensitive, there’s no way he’s been feeling even an iota of what the Force has been broadcasting to Luke, and that confirmation has always been comforting. When Din said he couldn’t stop thinking about Luke, it wasn’t what the Force was showing him; it was Luke he couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Luke knows without a doubt that he loves Din for who he is and how he makes him feel, not the Force pulling them together. The choking sensation in Luke’s throat lessens as realization dawns on him. “The Force - amplifies it.”

Anakin nods. “They’re your feelings, Luke.”

“At first the Force was guiding me, and now it’s been showing me how I feel...” Luke continues in a whisper. He blinks and meets his father’s eyes. “Dad, I’m in love with him.”

Anakin’s expression is the fondest Luke has ever seen, but there is a touch of sadness there that Luke doesn’t understand. “I know you are, Luke, and I’m so happy for you,” he says, caressing Luke’s cheekbone with his thumb. “We can talk more about the bond later; have you told him?”

“Not yet,” Luke answers, closing his eyes and leaning into Anakin’s hand again; of all the Jedi that Luke could have shared this experience with, he’s glad it’s his father.

“Well, if I know you as well as I know I do, you’re panicking about it,” Anakin deadpans, and Luke huffs.

“Remind me to never confide in you again,” he grouses; Anakin chuckles and pinches Luke’s cheek, startling his eyes open with a yelp.

“I wonder where you get that snarky mouth of yours from,” his father adds, grinning. “It certainly wasn’t your saint of a mother, so it must have been all that time you spent as Kenobi’s Padawan.”

Luke rolls his eyes and playfully snaps his teeth at his father’s thumb, prompting Anakin to pull his hand back with a delighted laugh. “You’re not innocent here, Dad.”

Anakin settles back in his seat with a smug shrug. “Never said I was.”

Luke smiles at his father’s feigned nonchalance and wipes away his lingering tears. “Thank you, Dad.”

Anakin clears his throat and looks - pained, almost uncomfortable. “There’s a lot I’m not the best at and things I’ve outright failed you on, but this is something I can help with.” He looks back at Luke. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Luke understands - they lost a lot of time after the accident, but it eventually brought them closer. Luke wouldn’t trade it for anything. “I always do, Dad.”

Anakin clears his throat again and abruptly stands up; Luke knows he’s embarrassed him and presses his lips together to fight his smile. Kelari, who has been silently watching the entire conversation with concern, perks up when Anakin looks over at her. “Kelari, help me clean up while Luke gets in the ‘fresher. Artoo has been dying to interrupt and remind us of the time.”

R2 haughtily chirps that Anakin can take his sass back to Naboo with him for all he cares, but they do need to start heading to the shop if they don’t want a repeat of yesterday. Luke laughs and stands up as well, rolling his neck. “I won’t be long, Artoo.”

Anakin shoos him off and starts handing empty things to Kelari to stack on the tray while Luke goes back into his sleeping quarters. He takes a quick shower, dries his hair, and pulls on black leggings and a matching long-sleeved tunic with a high collar, self-conscious about the mark he knows is nonexistent now but still a little embarrassed about the teasing from his father the night before. After pulling his glove back on, he fastens his belt and lightsaber as he walks back out into the sitting room to find Anakin admiring his boots.

“Are these new?” Anakin asks, handing them over when Luke holds a hand out for them. He sits back at the cleared table with a nod.

“Yeah, I wore the other ones out,” Luke answers. 

“You’re taking good care of them,” Anakin says, leaning against the back of the couch. Kelari scrambles along the couch to climb up Anakin’s arm, prompting a grin from him. 

“Thanks,” Luke says, tugging the left boot on and moving to the right. “They’re my best feature.”

Anakin laughs. “I’m sure Din would disagree with you.”

“You sure? You haven’t met him yet.”

“So glad you brought that up,” Anakin says cheerfully, clapping his hands together, and Luke sighs. “Don’t forget about your sister, Luke. You know Firecracker will come after you if you wait too much longer.”

“I know,” Luke agrees, pulling his right boot on and standing, bouncing on the balls of his feet for his feet to settle. “I’ll tell her, Dad.”

“You’ll bring him by to meet us both.”

Luke narrows his eyes. “At the same time?”

Anakin shrugs. “Can’t think of a reason why not.”

“I can think of several hundred - how much time do you have?”

R2 beeps to interject not enough, and Luke smirks, dropping his hands to his hips when Anakin rolls his eyes. “What side is Artoo on these days?”

“The one that wins,” Luke quips, stepping back into his sleeping quarters for a fresh set of robes. He has to get yesterday’s laundered - it still smells like kavasa juice - and closes the door behind him. “He’s not meeting you both at the same time.”

Anakin sighs and trails behind Luke as he leads them to the entrance to the hallway, stacked breakfast tray in hand. “It won’t be that bad, Sunshine.”

“I know you’ve met Leia, but have you met yourself?” Luke asks, locking the door behind R2 as he wheels into the hall. “Stubborn tenacity is a Skywalker trait, Dad, I’m sorry to remind you.”

R2 beeps to remind Luke that he isn’t an exception to that, to which Luke quickly shushes him; Kelari trills her laughter from Anakin’s shoulder as they walk towards the lift at the end of the hall.

Once they’re on their way down to the ground floor, Luke looks over at Anakin. “I won’t put Din in a position where he’s uncomfortable.”

Anakin sighs and rolls his eyes with a smile. “Whatever you want, Sunshine.”

Luke narrows his eyes at Anakin. “What’s with that tone?”

“What tone?” Anakin asks with an innocent laugh. 

“Your tone has me worried.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Anakin parts from Luke outside of the shop, hailing a speeder to take him to Leia’s apartment and promising to see him soon.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“From a certain point of view, it could be,” Anakin says with a feral grin, waving at them. “Tell Din I said hello!”

Luke waves back with a bright smile. “Sure won’t!”

Anakin laughs as he climbs into the speeder, then he’s pulling into traffic and gone. Luke watches until R2 calls that he’s got the shop open and turns to get to work. He has a lot of orders to pull together and not a lot of time to do it, on top of needing to be back at the temple with the younglings after midday. 

Luke decides to show Kelari how to trim stems and tie off bows; it’s a slow process, but she gets the hang of it after several laborious attempts. R2 helps keep an eye on the front while Luke works with Kelari in cold storage to fill orders, calling for him only when someone is there to pick up an order or needs a new arrangement. Luke talks about each flower with Kelari as he picks and hands them over for her to trim; she particularly seems to enjoy when Luke talks about the ones Anakin and Padmé like the best, and takes a liking to the delicate golden fire blossoms as a result.

Having an extra set of hands around is helpful, and the guests are delighted when Kelari passes over their bouquets with cute trills and giggles. By the time Luke orders them lunch, she’s become a guest favourite.

Luke is moving through to the front of the shop after throwing away the leftover containers from their lunch when he feels that welcome simmer in the Force. Luke quickens his steps to match his pounding heart, his attention focusing on the sliding glass doors just as Din walks in.

“Hi, Din,” he breathes, smiling brightly as Din steps down into the shop. R2 and Kelari greet him from the counter, and Din nods back at them. He comes to a stop in Luke’s space and tilts his helmet down to meet Luke’s forehead gently.

Luke hesitates and rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, but leans against the pressure.

When Din pulls back, Luke can tell he noticed. “Luke, what’s wrong?”

Luke feels a flush start creeping up his face when R2 beeps his laugh at him, snarking about how cute it is that Luke is flustered over Din kissing him now that he knows about it. Din directs his attention to R2, pausing, and Luke sighs. “Can I talk to you?”

Din turns quickly back to Luke. After a moment and a thread of uncertainty in the Force, Din nods.

Luke just nods back at him like an idiot, still thrown, and calls to R2 and Kelari to watch the front. R2 beeps that he has no problem staying as far from the break room as possible, happy to take Anakin’s advice for once. Luke groans and wraps a hand around Din’s vambrace to tug him behind him; Din follows without resistance, but Luke can feel his trepidation. Once they’re in the break room, Luke shuts the door and hesitates for a moment before locking it.

Din uncomfortably shifts in the center of the room, facing Luke. “Luke, are you-?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Luke blurts, pressing his back to the sliding door and keeping his eyes on the tiled floor.

Luke sees Din’s boots take a hesitant step forward. “About Grogu? I’m -”

“No,” Luke says, shaking his head sharply. He licks his lips and his face heats again. “About - the, uh.” Luke takes a fortifying breath and gestures with his gloved hand in the air between him and Din, suddenly desperate that Din not make him say it. “The - the -”

Force, embarrassment is going to be the death of him at this rate.

Din takes another step forward, and Luke flicks his eyes up to him. His helmet is tilted in that way that always makes Luke’s heart clench, and he stops just in front of Luke. “The?”

Luke closes his eyes and takes a fortifying breath. “The - kissing, Din.”

Din pauses, and Luke can feel fond amusement and a little bit of relief rolling off him into the Force. “What did you think I was doing, cyar’ika?”

Luke splutters and blinks his eyes open. “Uh, being affectionate?”

Din chuckles softly. “You’re not wrong.”

“Kriff,” Luke says, huffing a laugh and running his gloved hand through his hair. “Yesterday fried my brain, Din. My father saw and -”

Sharp fear pierces through the Force to Luke, and his jaw snaps shut with a click. Luke furrows his brows at Din and reaches out to rest his hand on Din’s pauldron. “Din, what’s wrong?”

“...your father?” Din asks carefully, toneless. 

Luke nods slowly. “He was the one with the transport yesterday; you passed him on your way out.”

Din tenses under Luke’s hand and goes very, very still. “That - explains something.”

Now it’s Luke’s turn to tense - did Anakin somehow manage to get to Din yesterday while he was dropping off the hover lift? “Din?”

“His expression was - dark,” Din says flatly.

Luke lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and rubs Din’s shoulder. “Oh, that’s fine.”

“...I don’t understand.”

“He’s protective,” Luke answers, trailing his palm to rest over Din’s chest plate. “It was a shock for him.” He fiddles with the strap across Din’s chest, pausing. “As ridiculously embarrassing as it was, I’m - glad he saw? He explained it to me.”

Din lets out a harsh exhale, clearly feeling embarrassed. Luke certainly doesn’t mind the company in his embarrassment after all that was yesterday. “I can’t think of a worse way that could have gone, cyar’ika.”

Luke laughs and shakes his head, thinking about Leia’s misfortune again. “I can.”

After a brief pause, Din relaxes and chuckles with Luke; he carefully places his palm on Luke’s waist and squeezes, causing Luke to hum. “That’s what Artoo was referring to?”

Luke flicks his eyes up to Din’s visor, surprised. “You understood him?”

Din shifts. “A little,” he answers vaguely.

“But you don’t know binary,” Luke adds, his heart hammering. “Are you learning?”

“I thought it would be helpful,” Din says, his tone soft and fond.

“Din,” Luke murmurs, trailing his fingers over the slopes of Din’s helmet in wonder. “That’s - amazing.”

“It’s useful,” Din deflects. “I should have learned it sooner.”

Luke smiles at him. “It is useful, but it’s also amazing.”

Din huffs, pressing his helmet into Luke’s hand, but he doesn’t deny it again; Luke’s smile grows. 

“It’s called a keldabe kiss,” Din murmurs, apropos of their earlier subject, then carefully adds: “I should have asked your permission, Luke.”

Luke hums and furrows his brows at him. “My permission?”

Din nods. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Stop what, kissing me?” Luke asks, tone strangled.

Din hesitates but nods. Luke immediately shakes his head. “Don’t you dare, Din Djarin. I don’t care who sees -”

“You said you - love it,” Din interrupts, something urgent and desperate in his voice. “Do you mean that?”

“I mean it,” Luke promises with matched urgency, determined, bringing his other hand up to frame Din’s helmet. “If you stop, Din, I might just lose my mind.”

Din’s hand on Luke’s waist flexes and slips around to the small of his back, pulling Luke closer; he trails gloved fingertips along Luke’s jaw to slide into his hair with reverence, the touch featherlight but enough to spike Luke’s pulse and leave a shiver in its wake. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Luke breathes, eyes fluttering shut when Din presses his helmet to Luke with care, the action undeniably fond and settling the ever-present ache in Luke’s chest when Din is too far. “Never stop, Din.”

Chapter Text

After the whiplash of everything that happened the day Luke officially met Din’s son, the next few days are surprisingly ordinary.

Luke opens the shop with Kelari and R2, Anakin usually showing up not long after he opens to help. He isn’t as gifted as Luke or Padmé are with arrangements, but he helps run the front with R2 while Luke and Kelari work in cold storage. Kelari takes direction well, eager to help Luke when he asks, and between the four of them, they manage to get caught up on the extra orders so Luke can solely focus on the arrangements for the Rodian wedding once Master Billaba returns.

Luke enjoys spending time with his father, grateful to R2 for watching the shop so he, Anakin, and Kelari can take their lunches uninterrupted in the break room; the downside to having Anakin there all day is Luke had to ask Din to not come by the shop for a bit. Din understood it wasn’t the right way to meet Anakin and agreed, and they’ve been able to talk at night over holos, but Luke misses him fiercely. Despite the Force always alerting him before Din comes in, Luke still finds his attention tuned to the bell over the sliding door when he catches it from cold storage. He knows it isn’t Din, but he can’t help himself. That ache that settles in his chest when Din isn’t near has grown, and Luke fears that when he’s finally able to see him in person again, he may just latch on and not let go.

At least he has been able to enjoy time with Grogu at the temple. Whenever Luke enters the room after spending the beginning of the day at the shop, Grogu’s eyes find his immediately and the youngling gives a little wiggle and coo, obviously excited to see him. It warms Luke’s heart, and he bends to the child’s every whim - there isn’t a moment during the lessons where he isn’t carrying Grogu or working with him directly during their paired exercises.

At the end of the last day of Luke’s time with the younglings, Master Billaba having returned that morning, Luke is sitting next to Grogu at the little table with the other younglings, bent over flimsi sheets with color pencils spread on the table. Luke is trying his hand at drawing the gorsa trees and candlewick flowers he saw at the Skydome with Din, still missing him desperately, when Grogu squirms on his little cushion tower and reaches over to tap Luke’s hand. Luke hums and turns to give Grogu his attention, eyes widening at what Grogu is pointing to.

Grogu had been secretive of what he was drawing when Luke initially asked, and now he can see why - Grogu drew a picture of the three of them wearing flower crowns in his little dorm room. Din has the crown already on his helmet, and Grogu drew one on Luke too, despite not having actually made one together that day. Grogu is sitting on Luke’s lap, his own smaller flower crown on his head, and Din’s arm is around Luke. It’s surprisingly detailed for the childlike wonder that chunky shapes and stick figure smiles can be, and Luke loves it.

“This is so amazing, little one,” he says, smiling at Grogu. Grogu coos and beams back, his little teeth showing, and pushes the flimsi closer to Luke. Luke blinks, looking down then back at Grogu. “You want me to take it?”

Grogu nods and stands up on his cushions, pointing first down at the picture and then up at Luke. When Luke just stares back, speechless, Grogu pulls himself up onto the table with a huff and stands in front of Luke to be eye-level, mindful of both of their drawings and the rolling color pencils. He pats Luke’s chest twice then reaches under the collar of his little robes, pulling out the necklace he had been chewing moments before Luke had been knocked on his ass a few cycles ago. Grogu brandishes it towards Luke and waves it, then points at Luke again.

Luke blinks, feeling his breathing quicken. Is Grogu -

When Luke doesn’t react quick enough, Grogu huffs and closes his eyes, reaching out to Luke’s mind in the Force. Luke’s hands begin to tremble when a word is pushed to the forefront of his mind.

Clan.

Luke takes a shuddering breath and smiles tremulously at Grogu, who is still waving the mudhorn signet at him with purpose. “Do you mean that, Grogu?”

Grogu coos and takes a few more little steps forward to nuzzle against Luke’s chest - a clear yes. Luke swallows thickly and cradles Grogu to his chest, looking down at his drawing of the three of them, and presses a quick kiss to the top of Grogu’s head. “Thank you, little one.”

Luke shakily gifts Grogu his subpar picture in exchange, much to Grogu’s delight, wondering if he’s dreaming.

When Luke shows the drawing to Ahsoka after the younglings are sent to the dining hall for dinner, Ahsoka’s eyes become glassy with unshed tears as she takes it carefully by the corner. “This is so precious, Luke. He likes you; he wants you in his little family.”

“I -” Luke begins, suddenly getting choked up again. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Ahsoka flicks her eyes to Luke and smiles sadly. “You’re just being yourself, Luke. They see that.”

Luke presses his lips together and nods, taking a deep breath. After another, he smiles at Ahsoka. “Yeah.”

Ahsoka winks at him, passing the drawing Grogu made for him back over. “Han is going to be upset that you’re a dad before him, you know.”

Luke laughs, loud and bright, and shakes his head at Ahsoka. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka shrugs and lightly cuffs Luke’s shoulder. “Whatever you say, Little Skyguy.”

Luke grins and sticks his tongue out at her. 

That night, he stops by one of the storage rooms to find something to hang the drawing with, and manages to unearth an old black frame that’s just a little cracked on one of the corners. Luke carefully sets the picture inside and reseals it, spinning it over in his hands. The picture lines up well, just a little crooked because the frame itself is perhaps an inch too wide on both sides -  it’s perfect.

Luke sets it on the table next to his bed. 

“Sunshine.”

Luke looks up, pushing his hair away from his forehead, to his father standing in the doorway to cold storage. “Yeah, Dad?”

“You think you got it from here?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Luke furrows his brows, taking the vibroblade Kelari was attempting to hand him when Anakin came in.

“Are you leaving?”