Chapter Text
Luke felt himself being violently pulled away from the warmth of the rising twin suns, the warning breeze of a coming sandstorm falling flat. The jolt was sudden, like an unexpected drop from hyperspace, and Luke sat up in bed with a start. His breathing was jagged as he took in his surroundings before he realized that he was safe.
Even though it was dark and cold, Luke was safe on Yavin.
Blearily Luke turned to look at the chronometer beside his bed and grimaced as the numbers flashed 0259 before flicking to 0300, and a gentle but insistent beeping filled the room. Disappointment bubbled within him as he came to the realization that it was time to face the day. A child-like stubbornness wanted him to turn off the alarm and settle back into the sheets, but there was Grogu to consider and… Grogu’s father.
Real responsibilities and obligations were waiting for him in the world outside his bedroom. Unfortunately, the only way to get back to the sanctity of his bed was to go through the day. Despite Luke’s best attempts, Uncle Owen had raised a farmer after all. Bound by obligation to rise before the suns.
Luke didn’t try to stifle his groan at the day to come, tossing his head back into his pillow for a few moments and squeezing his eyes shut before pushing off the mattress and setting about the room, pulling on his pseudo-Jedi robes in the darkness and clipping his lightsaber to his belt with practiced ease. Luke quickly slipped into his refresher, brushed his teeth, and almost stepped out for the day when he remembered Grogu’s father. Luke paused in front of the mirror, taking in his pallid face. The bleary Yavin weather did him no favors.
He was a little worse for the wear, Luke didn’t spend nearly as much time obsessing over his complexion or appearance as he used to when Leia had first introduced him to “self-care” and “a decent skincare routine” that left him feeling radiant. It was a lot easier to let that fall to the wayside when you refused to interact with all but a handful of people via holocalls and infrequently scheduled cargo drops. Still, Luke felt a certain compelling desire to fix his appearance, even though they had only one more occupant in the temple. Deft hands organized his hair into a neat and tidy shape. Cold water splashed on his face to, hopefully, magically bring life back into his face.
After he toweled off the water, Luke flashed himself a quick smile before feeling the burn of embarrassment that he was even putting in this much effort for the father of his student.
Leia was right, he really needed to socialize more.
With an anxious sense of urgency, which he hadn’t felt since he had taken up residence on Yavin, Luke threw his cloak over his shoulders before crossing the threshold of his personal quarters and into the shared hallways. It was only a few paces until he was outside Grogu’s room. The world outside himself was silent, which was how Luke preferred it.
Inside Grogu’s room was just as silent. Though it was a mess of secondhand toys, which Han had dropped off weeks before, haphazardly strewn about the room. The child himself was still and at rest with only the softest of snuffling breaking the silence. Luke almost felt bad to tear Grogu from this restful sleep, but it was a necessary task, so Luke firmed up his resolve.
“Grogu,” Luke called softly. The snuffling stopped, but Grogu’s eyes didn’t open, and Luke couldn’t help but grin at his only student's antics. This little charade had been a recent addition to their morning routine.
“Grogu,” Luke called more insistently, gently prodding the child's tiny nose with the tip of his gloved finger. As if on cue, Grogu’s wide eyes opened and blinked insistently up at him. “Good morning, are you ready for today’s lessons?”
When Grogu responded in turn with nonsense babbles, Luke broke out into a grin and picked the baby up before setting about their shared morning routine. Quickly moving about the room with a familiarity he hadn’t expected to gain so fast, it was only a few short moments until they both stepped through the threshold of Grogu’s room. Ready to brave the morning together.
In the darkness of the hallway, Luke walked more confidently than he had in Grogu’s room since he didn’t have to fear death by stuffed bantha. His footsteps were so sure that Luke couldn’t help the strange strangled noise he made when he felt his body collide with something in the dark of the hallway.
“Kriff!” Luke protectively cradled Grogu as he stumbled back from the force of walking directly into something stationary.
“Sorry,” a voice said immediately, and Luke felt gloved hands grab his arms to steady Luke though his unseen rescuer was not needed.
“It’s fine,” Luke chirped automatically, the hand not closely curled around Grogu reaching out to his would-be rescuer. When Luke realized the only possible person his rescuer could be, he quickly dropped his hand from where it rested on the Mandalorian’s forearm as if it had been burned by the beskar. “Ah, good morning.”
There was only silence and Luke pulled away awkwardly, leaning to set Grogu down before righting himself and pulling at the hems of his tunic. As if the Mandalorian could see his disheveled state in the darkness. Luke was relieved that he didn’t have to be self-conscious of the flush that burned on his cheeks as his sleep-addled brain came to realize his series of blunders.
“When you agreed to do work around the temple, I never really expected you to get up this early,” Luke tried again, the silence stretched out in response and Luke panicked as the thought of offending the Mandalorian passed his mind. “Not that I don’t appreciate it. I just would never expect any sane person to get up before the hour of six.”
Now he had just called the father of his only student insane. If Luke had felt flushed earlier, now it felt as if his face was warm enough to single-handedly fuel the temple generators. Luke wanted to reach out with the force and gauge how much he had just screwed up, but he needed to set an example for Grogu. Especially after Luke had spent the better half of the last week trying to get Grogu to understand why it was wrong. There would be no boundary crossing with the force, so he would just have to go off of what Luke knew about the Mandalorian.
Not that the Mandalorian had been particularly forthcoming the night before when they had struck up the bargain. Only the barest of information had been exchanged, the Mandalorian’s need and Luke’s ability to provide for that need had been their only topic of conversation before Luke had shown his unexpected guest to a room in the temple. No further questions had been asked since the bounty hunter didn’t seem the type to readily provide answers.
“Sorry, can we try this again?” Luke took the silence as a yes. “Good morning, Grogu and I are just going to do our morning meditation. We’ll be back in an hour or two.”
“Understood.” The filtered voice was close, too close and Luke quickly took another hasty step back in the darkness. “Is there anything you’d like me to start on?”
“Oh! Uh, no. You can just settle in, have some breakfast, and hang out in the kitchen. There’s really no rush, besides it’s three in the morning.” The words rushed out and Luke scooped Grogu up and sidestepped the Mandalorian in the narrow hallways. “I wouldn’t expect you to keep the same schedule as me.”
Again came no response. Luke set his shoulders as he walked towards the midnight blue light that came from the mouth of the temple. Luke, with Grogu in his arms, set about effortlessly navigating the surrounding forest to their usual morning meditation location. As the two of them settled down, the sun and the moon began to trade posts, and the soft glow of morning began creeping over the treetops.
In the smallest of clearings, Luke set Grogu down before taking a seat himself. Neatly folding himself and pushing his shoulders back, his breathing schooled into an even pace. Luke found his thoughts drifting back to the temple, the thoughts stubbornly persisting even as he gently walked himself back to focusing on the task at hand. His thoughts turned to the Mandalorian within the temple and the way the force seemed to pool about him, tempting Luke with its call because it held the answers that Luke sought out.
He tried to dismiss the conversation and the strange eagerness of the farm boy who had spent most of his teenage life earnestly trying to escape Tatooine that kept bubbling to the surface of his mind. But his concentration repeatedly broke when another point of contention about his earlier conversation came up.
Luke let out a big sigh before opening his eyes, as he realized his control had slipped away once more. He pushed himself up off his knees before reaching out to pick up Grogu, whose wide eyes had just opened in confusion.
“You’ll have to forgive me Grogu,” Luke grimaced. “Something keeps distracting me, we’ll have to try again after breakfast.”
Grogu’s ears perked up at one of his favorite words – tied only with lunch and dinner – and the child readily babbled back some nonsense. Luke grinned before setting off back towards the temple, knowing that these days would have to be few and far between so that Grogu wouldn’t associate abandoning their training with the reward of food.
Some days were just more difficult than others. Luke felt as if he were eternally connected to the force, but his ability to steadily channel it ebbed and flowed. Forcing it would only strain and tire both he and his padawan before the day had even truly started.
“Don’t worry, I’m hungry too,” Luke laughed as his padawan insistently tugged on the fold of his collar, begging for Luke to make the journey a quick one. “This is a short way back.”
The pair only had to tolerate a few minutes of anticipatory silence before the pyramid shape of the temple came into view, the whole structure casting a massive shadow that stretched out like a lazy tooka cat as the sun rose.
The spicy smell of food hit Luke as soon as the two of them walked into the temple. Luke found himself eagerly tracking down the scent and was honestly surprised when it led him to the kitchens, the ones he had mostly ignored in favor of whatever rations Han brought on his supply runs and only recently begun using with the arrival of Grogu. When he realized that he would, in fact, not only need to begin cooking but master it in order to house the pickiest eaters of all sentient life forms: children.
Luke half-expected to see Leia in the kitchen waiting for him, fuming with arms crossed at forgetting their birthday (it wouldn’t be the first year Luke had done that) and still bearing the gift of chef-made meals from the core worlds. Instead, the sight of the Mandalorian surrounded by a massacre of wires and pulled apart appliances greeted him upon entering the room. Luke couldn’t help the way the confusion changed his face, his eyebrows raised and mouth agape when the Mandalorian looked up from the kaf maker in his hand to see Luke and Grogu in the doorway.
“Nothing in this kitchen works,” the Mandalorian stated in lieu of a greeting. Luke tried not to wonder how much cooking the bounty hunter got up to in his spare time to be judging the state of his kitchen.
“And yet you still managed to make it smell so good in here,” Luke said warmly as he set Grogu on the floor and couldn’t help but feel the bittersweet cut of watching the kid toddle excitedly over to his father.
“There are two things in this kitchen that work,” the Mandalorian amended his statement diplomatically as he set down the device and bent to scoop up Grogu, “Your stove and your fridge. Barely.”
The Mandalorian sat in front of one of the plates and easily began spooning food into the child’s mouth. Luke tried not to be offended as the toddler excitedly ate this mystery food, thinking back to the few nights where it had been just the two of them and the grief the child had put Luke through as he had tried to feed Grogu mushrooms. It was only when the Mandalorian gestured for Luke to sit down with his spoon that Luke realized he had been staring at the pair as if he were an intruder in his own home. Never one to reject an invitation, Luke sat down at the plate opposite and shamelessly spared no time before digging into his own food. It took every fiber of his being to not sigh in audible enjoyment at the meal the Mandalorian had prepared with the barebone contents of the fridge.
“This is really good,” Luke managed through his second mouthful of the meal, vaguely wondering if the Mandalorian was staring back at him in horror from behind the helmet. “Thank you for breakfast. I had expected you to fall back asleep after we left this morning.”
The Mandalorian held his stare for a few seconds longer than Luke was comfortable with before the visor turned back to Grogu and the careful spoonfuls he was being fed. Luke felt the burn of embarrassment once again and made his next bite a bit more dignified, making sure that he wasn’t speaking with a mouthful.
“If you’re working, I’m working.”
“Oh.” Luke frowned a bit, a challenge best not done over breakfast. “Thank you for the food, where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Foundlings need to eat,” The Mandalorian stated simply.
Luke waited expectantly for more, staring earnestly at the man before him. It took him longer than he cared to admit to realize that the Mandalorian wasn’t planning on sharing anymore beyond that. Luke gave a quick nod, mentally filing the information away so he could ask questions later on. If later ever came around.
“If it’s not an imposition,” Luke started, knowing full well that it would be, “would you feel comfortable teaching me while you’re here? I spent so much time in the Rebellion that I never had the chance and it seems important to make food that kids will actually like. ”
The Mandalorian didn’t even pause the slow coercion of feeding Grogu, nodding slowly in response. Luke wondered if the Mandalorian regretted allowing Grogu to come with him in the first place.
“Well, great!” Luke managed cheerily through a mouthful. “I know the temple is a handful, work-wise, I’m really so lucky that you ended up here. I was just about to appeal to the New Republic for assistance… and if that didn’t work, guilt my brother-in-law into putting some of his free hours here.”
The Mandalorian only gave Luke a quick glance, the reflection of the visor showing Luke the foolish happy-go-lucky expression he was wearing before turning back to face Grogu. Luke would feel embarrassed if that had been the first transgression, instead of one in a growing list that the Mandalorian must be keeping against him.
Behind him, Artoo rolled into the kitchen, practically screaming at Luke in binary about missed comms from his sister. The Mandalorian startled and pulled a blaster out, pointing it squarely at R2. The droid beeped obscenities at the Mandalorian for ‘pulling a blaster at him in his own home’.
“Force, Artoo! You startled us, I’ll go right now.” Luke tried to give his best winning smile to the bounty hunter, the same one that Wedge had joked could convince warlords to call a ceasefire, before shoveling the last of his food in his mouth and standing up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, then I’ll take Grogu off your hands so we can do some more training.”
***
“Do you need any help?” Luke asked timidly, unabashedly on his tiptoes to peer over the ledge of the counter. “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good mechanic.”
The vague sound of metal tools hitting metal panels is the only response, and Luke takes it as an invitation to hang about expectantly. His eyes drifted along the figure of the man stretched out on the floor. Luke wondered if years of bounty hunting made a body grow strong and sturdy from the hazards of the job.
“No, you’re paying me,” the bounty hunter finally answered, sitting up to reach a box of drillbits on the edge of the counter. Trying to be casual about it, Luke silently floated the box into his reaching hand, knowing full well that it was not an ‘appropriate use of the force’. Luke was grateful the ghost of Master Yoda didn’t often hang about him and even more so that he didn’t have Anakin around to cheer on his antics.
“Thank you,” he said gruffly before laying back down with the needed tool in hand.
“I’m here to help,” Luke said, his voice low. His eyes were back on the Mandalorian, watching with too much attention as the hunter stretched to reach a part in the back and the thin shirt that was tucked into pants he had traded in his flight suit for threatened to expose a strip of skin along his waist. “You’re really just helping me avoid the stack of texts I’m in the middle of transcribing.”
In the corner of his vision, Luke saw a spark of blue materializing and, without waiting to see which spector has decided to visit him, he used the force to move the panel closer to the man. The shirt goes slack again and Luke feels his disappointment flare, but he can’t risk the humiliation of a lecture about romantic attachments.
“Thank you,” the Mandalorian mumbled again. Luke focused back in on the man as the blue spark turned out to just be R2 whizzing by with Grogu in tow. This time, Luke trained his gaze firmly on the Mandalorian’s hands, where there is no chance of his mind drifting to less-than-chaste things. “You’re a Jedi, aren’t you supposed to be excited about… transcribing old texts?”
“Sure,” Luke conceded. “It’s just hard for the farm boy in me to choose sitting in my stuffy room over socializing and working with my hands.”
“Your room is stuffy?”
Luke felt his face turn pink. “I haven’t been able to get the windows open. I think the alliance used it as a storage room for their rations.”
“Rations,” the Mandalorian repeated, voice dry and unbelieving even with the filtered vocoder.
Luke shrugged, “In the rebellion, it was as good as gold. Every pilot wanted a few extra stocked away.”
“No, I just can’t believe you’d pick a room that was once used to hold rations. You weren’t worried about leftover vermin?”
“Well, now I am.” Luke burned red and pushed away from the counter to hide his face even though the Mandalorian was still focused on the panel. There was a soft sigh and clicking sounds before the Mandalorian stood up on the other side of the counter.
“Let’s go,” he sighed again, his words teeming with weariness. The Mandalorian turned and walked down the hall, not waiting to see if Luke would even follow. Luke, of course, followed immediately, only a little confused when they ended up outside Luke’s own bedroom door.
The Mandalorian’s gloved hand reached out and stopped just before the door. Luke watched dumbstruck at the simple gesture before realizing that it was a request for permission. He nodded so energetically that his neck twinged in a way that only an adult’s would.
The Mandalorian pushed the door open, and the stale scent of Luke’s own dwellings seemed to seep out, teeming with the sweat, tears, and indifference that Luke seemed to deal with in spades.
“Sorry,” Luke found himself immediately apologizing and squeezing past the Mandalorian before the other man could even take a step toward the door. Frantically, Luke picked up all the discarded clothes that were just shy of the soiled bin, tossed the cover into a semblance of tidiness over the bed, and shut the door to the ‘fresher with a slight panic. It was beyond helping over there. “Didn’t know I’d have guests over today.”
“Guests,” The Mandalorian echoed before setting his equipment down in front of one of Luke’s windows, the taut line of his shoulders illuminated by the setting sun. Luke found himself reluctant to turn away but took a seat at the edge of his bed where it was impossible to get a good view of the man at work.
“Guests,” Luke affirmed before sneaking a quick sidelong glance at the Mandalorian, who was pointedly staring at the points where the window had been fused to the ledge. Luke bites back a grin. “Unexpected and welcome. When I was a kid, I used to dream of guests coming by so I could have an excuse to get out of my chores, but when they finally did, my Uncle made me do them anyway.”
It’s only when Luke finishes his last rambling sentence that the grating noise of electric tools disrupted the peace and quiet of the room. Luke closed his eyes and wondered what it would have been like to see the bounty hunter walking up the Lars homestead illuminated by the twin suns. His heart skipped a beat as the image formed in his head, the gleaming beskar catching his attention from one of the generators and praying to the forces unknown that his uncle will accept the help of the Mandalorian. Maybe he would’ve even been awestruck enough to willingly put off his misguided dreams of going to the Imperial Academy for another season or two, captivated by the adventures the Mandalorian could tell him about to forgo his own.
When the high-pitched noise ceased, the window was pushed open. “Discipline is good.”
Luke’s mind reeled as he tried to track the last bits of the conversation that led the Mandalorian to that conclusion. “Oh, without a doubt. Just something I used to dream up to pass the time.”
The Mandalorian set about working on the second window as the breeze of the first window blew in, the stuffiness of the room quickly remedied by the earthy scent of pines. With a deep inhale, Luke shut his eyes and tossed himself back on the bed, fully appreciating the way the fresh air seemed to settle his mind. He barely flinched when the piercing noise filled the room once more because the window would soon be free of its prison.
“Done,” the Mandalorian called from the edge of the room, and Luke curled on his side to get a good look at where he stood by the door. Luke was so grateful, he could kiss him if it was appropriate. Instead, Luke sat up and started towards the door to let him out, but the Mandalorian waved him away. “I’ll make sure none of the other windows are stuck.”
Luke opened his mouth to rush out a slew of gratitude but paused when he realized the name he’d silently assigned to Grogu’s father was nothing more than an identifier. “What can I call you?”
From where he stood, the Mandalorian tilted his helmet to the side and considered him. Luke held his gaze, determined to not wither under the gaze that would send the larger part of the galaxy running.
“Din.” The name was stated so matter-of-factly.
“Din,” Luke repeated, the name falling gently from his own lips. He imagined saying the word with reverence, with meaning. Instead, he leveled the playing field. “Call me Luke.”
Din gave him a curt nod before gathering his belongings and making his way back to the hallway.
“Din!” Luke called as Din retreated, who paused at the threshold but didn’t look back. Luke felt his heart stutter as what to say escaped him. With a deep breath, he managed to string together a few words. “Thank you.”
The words released Din, and Luke’s doorway was empty once more, the door shutting firmly behind him. Feeling flustered, Luke tossed himself back onto his bed, and the ease of sleep quickly set in. As the cool breeze of Yavin rolled in, Luke’s hazy thoughts turned only to Din, working tirelessly beside Luke under the twin suns.
***
It had taken some time, but Luke found himself adjusting to a comfortable pace of life alongside Din. Maybe there had been a few more incidents of miscommunication that ended in a blaster being drawn at a certain astromech, but compared to Han’s own trigger-happy tendencies, the lack of bolts that actually flew from the chamber was a success.
Luke was sitting at his desk when Grogu pulled at the leg of his pants. Without lifting his eyes from the page, Luke picked Grogu up and set him in his lap. It was only when Luke finished the last of the page that he cast his eyes to the doorway, where Din was leaning against the doorframe watching the two of them.
“Dinner’s ready,” Din called before disappearing back into the hallway without another word to either him or the child. Luke would bristle at the insincerity if he didn’t know that merely making him dinner was an extreme kindness. An act of good faith and shared existence between the two men.
“You should have told me I was being summoned,” Luke chastised Grogu jokingly as he stood to follow the path Din had taken. “I wouldn’t have left your father waiting.”
The intoxicating scent of food only grew as Luke got closer to the kitchen, and Luke wondered how Din had managed to make something that smelled so incredible with nothing more than what could be found on Yavin. Luke’s attempts at cooking with what the planet had provided him had left the kitchen unusable for a week because of the acrid smell of something charred beyond edibility.
Luke’s stomach growled when he stepped into the kitchen as if he hadn’t just enjoyed a meal courtesy of Din a few hours earlier. Luke set down Grogu across from him before sitting at his recently appointed seat in the kitchen, the one directly across from where the Mandalorian sat. A few nights ago, Luke had unthinkingly sat in the same line of seats at Grogu and Din. At first, Luke was confused as to why the Mandalorian was staring at him while he ate, but he had quickly realized his mistake under the hard observation of the blank visor. Luke hadn’t strayed from their careful routine since then.
Not that he wanted to. It had been so easy, almost natural the way that he found himself working and living in tandem with the Mandalorian. He even liked the comfortable silence that filled the room when the conversation lapsed into nothing, but today was no such day. The air seemed practically charged with energy, and after taking a seat at the table, Luke waited expectantly for the source of said energy to act upon it.
A plate of some vibrant-colored curry that Luke had never seen before was set in front of him.
If he could, Luke would’ve floated off into the stars like they did in the holo cartoons Ben used to watch when he was a toddler. He settled for eagerly grabbing his spoon, waiting with as much patience that Jedi could spare for his dinner companion to take a seat, even though Luke knew that Din wouldn’t eat in front of him.
“Thank you for dinner,” Luke managed as Din settled in and picked up a spoon for Grogu.
Din only nodded and set about enticing the tiny being into trying a bit. It only took one bite at every meal before Grogu was excitedly reaching out towards Din with his mouth open expectantly, waiting for the next spoonful to be delivered to him.
Following Din’s lead, Luke bowed his own head to begin working through his own plate. Luke had gathered some restraint over each meal, careful not to scare off his newfound cook with audible groans of appreciation.
“How was Grogu today?” Din asked, the low timbre of his voice causing goosebumps to erupt along Luke’s forearms. Luke cleared his throat and glanced up at Din, only to catch the reflection of his own eyes wide open and staring too intently at the man in front of him. Feeling self-conscious, Luke averted his gaze, skittishly looking around the room for something to fixate on. He was acutely aware of the nervous clammy way his hands felt as he berated himself for reacting like a schoolboy over such a mundane question.
“He did really well with the practical parts of our training.” Luke settled for staring intently at Grogu. “I was actually really surprised that we both got through our meditations today.”
Between mouthfuls, Luke did his best to capture the day he had shared with his padawan until only remnants of the yellow sauce was left.
Cleaning up after the meal was silent and quick, Luke taking his spot beside Din to wipe the dishes dry before setting them in the newly fixed cupboards. Within minutes, they powered down the appliances and switched off the breaker to the room.
Luke found it more than challenging not to drift away from reality and think nothing more of the silent way the Mandalorian accompanied him down the hall to the living quarters. His yearning dreams of being able to know Din, which seemed to came unbidden every night, were encouraged by the force singing every time their bodies accidentally brushed together. The only thing keeping Luke at bay was the peculiar and, somehow, knowing stare that Grogu set on him. It was unsettling, to say the least.
When he reached his door, a part of him childishly wanted to prolong the night. To postpone the goodbye even though he would see them both in the morning. Din stopped a few paces away, helmet tilted wearily to the side, and Luke felt guilty for depriving the man of any more sleep.
“Well,” Luke started, eyes darting between the father and son. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Din repeated, the words slow as if moving through tree sap.
Luke moved to open his door, slowly to delay the inevitable parting even as Din’s footsteps filled the hall once more. Luke took a deep breath before taking the first step into his own room. Somewhere down the hall, the footsteps stopped.
“Luke,” Din called. Luke’s heart flipped at the sound of his own name coming from Din’s low voice. “I think Grogu wants you to come and put him to sleep.”
Luke didn’t dare steal a glance at the tiny green child, fearing that it would break the strange magic of the moment. Though he knew that he would’ve felt the request in the force like an incessant chirp until the desire had been fulfilled. Instead, Luke chose to believe Din’s words.
“I’ll be right over,” Luke grinned before making his way down the hall and following Din into the child’s room.