Archive of Our Own ^beta

Din was aboard the Razor Crest polishing up his armour when he thought of it. He gave a glance to the child sleeping soundly in his hammock above before slipping out of the room to retrieve the other set of armour. He hesitated to bring it back to his space, it felt like he was bulldozing over the old owner as it was by handling it. To do what he wanted to do without permission from the owner and without checking to ensure they were dead...he just wasn’t sure.

To some mando’ade, their armour was sacred. It was their second skin, a connection to the manda. For others, a tool. Something that was no more than what it gave to them. In some clans armour would be passed down through hundreds or thousands of generations and was said to contain the living memory of every battle the beskar had seen. Other clans saw armour as a cin vhetin, a clean slate, with each new bearer. For foundlings, their armour was a connection to their new culture, to their new people, it was protection from a world that wasn’t always kind. 

Din didn’t know what type of mandalorian this armour belonged to. He pulled the buy’ce up to his own helmet and tapped them together. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry our people weren’t there to help, I’m sorry I don’t know how to properly honour you.”

When his soul was calm, he started to work. He pulled out his more delicate cleaning supplies and worked to clear off what seemed like years of grime and rust. He scrubbed and brushed until all that remained on the armour was paint. Din would never remove another mandalorians paint without explicit approval from the clan, so he left it as it was. 

Next he repaired the vambraces, and the chest piece. He connected all the broken wires and reattached loose circuit boards. The tech was a bit older than he was used to, but there nothing fundamentally changed, so he was confident in his ability to restore every piece. 

He left the helmet hardware for last. Din reached up to adjust the light so it was shining in a more focused beam, and he noticed something interesting about the setup. 

When he was cleaning he took note of the various scrapes and gouges in the beskar, resealing them where necessary. But something made him leave the bullet dent alone. And now that he was peering into the head of the armour he was glad he did. It appeared from the way the systems were arranged that the previous owner adapted the tech to work around the indent. Where the helmet cooling system was supposed to go there was too large a disturbance from the dent, so it was moved to the back, squished between the water lines and the power. The setup was far too deliberate to be anything but a choice by the wearer. 

Din shook his head sadly. What had this armour seen? Why did the mandalorian decide to keep a scar so impactful they needed to reconfigure their setup?

He was almost done with the repairs when the child came toddling out of the cubby. Din immediately reached down for him and hugged him close. When the ad chirped and tried to grab a tool he tutted and moved it out of reach. 

“That’s not a toy,” he tapped the kid’s stomach and hummed. “If you’re wondering what I’m doing, I’m fixing up the armour. There’s only a bit more to go. Would you like to watch?”

The child squealed and waved his arms around. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

All Din had left to do was reboot and update the heads up display. HUD’s could be tricky, so he wanted to connect the older helmet to the ship just to be sure. He would have greater control and more options than if he'd connect it to his own armour setup. From the ship he might even be able to get a lead on what clan the kit belonged to, and hopefully where their covert was located. That would kill two porgs with one shot. 

Din plugged his general connection cord into the port of the helmet and waited as the ship backed up the old information. The ship let out a beep when it was done downloading the data, and Din authorized the update download and install. There was a folder of audio files on the helmet, and he figured he’d get a head start on looking for information while he set up latemeal for him and the kid. He set the ship to play the files in order of when they were recorded over the ship speakers. 

Right as the first one began, he stood up and carried the kid to their kitchen area. 

“ It’s been a long day, and I just- ” the voice sighed. “ I don’t know why I’m doing this. ” 

The recording cut off. Din cut the meat. 

“ I’ve just left Mustafar again, and. Yeah, it’s not looking great. Sooner or later, my esteemed employer is going to decide this is more hassle than it’s worth .” 

The voice was deep, a little rough. It sounded a bit younger than Din was, but then the records show the first file was recorded several years ago. 

“ I’m-shit. It doesn’t look good, they’ve got a lock on my ship- ” Din could hear engines screaming in the background of this recording, and the person on the other end was a bit out of breath. “ This can’t be how I go down, I won’t let it .”

Din set the kid in his seat and gave him a pile of food. He decided to switch the recordings to play in his helmet. The kid had definitely heard worse, but if he didn’t have to…

The next recording played right in his ears. It made Din feel oddly close to the person. It was like they were just two mandalorians, having a conversation through their helmets. 

“ I guess if this is going to actually work, I need to put in some real effort here. The healers said I need somewhere to voice my thoughts, the ones that aren’t just ‘oh shit I’m going to die.’ These ones are different though, ” they sounded quieter, less frazzled than the other times. They had a lovely voice. “ The healers aren’t going to listen to these ones. They’re just for me. So. Guess I should talk about something. Maybe my father, or my vode-my dar’vode that is. I lost the right to call them vode when I-you know what? Not now. ” 

It cut out with a fizzle and Din frowned. 

“ I don’t think I have problems, I’ve dealt with my shit. What’s in the past is done, and I don’t need to dwell on things I can’t change. Figured I would talk about my ship instead ,” they went on to say everything about their ship aside from it’s name or model number. Any single piece of information Din might have been able to use to track the missing mandalorian was suspiciously absent. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was intentional. 

Din listened to recording after recording, learning so much about this mandalorian, but so little. 

“ I started a new hobby ,” one of the recordings began, accompanied by some gentle clicking. “ It’s called knitting, supposed to keep your hands busy. So far, I have a really long rectangle that was meant to be a scarf. You can learn anything from the holonet these days. Except, apparently, how to keep your projects from curling .”

The recording fizzed out again. Din wished he could see the scarf. He shook his head and piled more food on the kid’s empty plate. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be thinking about, he was supposed to be looking for information about a covert. 

From the sound of it, this mandalorian had a falling out with their aliit. That could mean when they died they didn’t know where their home covert was. So really, he should just stop listening. By the time he came to that conclusion, the next recording was already playing. 

“ Apparently I was not supposed to make a whole scarf using just the beginner stitch, and that’s why it was curling! I need to do like a backwards? Stitch or something? We’ll see. I’m attached to this scarf though, I’ll probably just finish it. Probably, ” they paused for a while, the same gently clicking a soothing sound in the background. The voice was quiet and the needles clicked for so long that Din managed to get the ad to finish his supper and get him to bed before they started talking again. 

“ I think the healer was right, I think I’m lonely. They say cl-people like me weren’t made to be alone. But I’m not like the others like me, am I? I’ve always been the exception. ”

They sounded close to tears, and all Din wanted to do was reach out to them and hold them. No one should be able to feel this sad while they’re alone. 

“ Kriff, I’m-I’m done. ”

A few seconds of silence until the next recording started. 

“ I’m done the scarf! ” They sounded as if nothing had happened in the last entry. (Din was starting to think of this like a diary.)(And it was so wrong to read other people's diaries.)(But it was also fascinating.) “ I’ve finished it, and it’s horrendous and curling and I love it. The only thing my hands have ever been good at is destroying things. It’s...nice. To make something for a change. ”

The recording after that was a long ramble about hyperspace lanes making no sense. They were upset that they couldn’t just take the shortest path. They ranted about what they would have done differently if they could redo the map that time. It was cute. In what felt like a series, the next dozen or so were about all the things the mandalorian would change about the galaxy. Some were lighthearted, like when they suggested making ship repairs free, and others were serious, like the one where they talked about how they wished adoption could be normalized in every culture. Din was gone. 

At this point, Din was in bed himself, had been there for hours, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop listening. The mandalorian entranced him. It was like they caught him in a tractor beam and was pulling him towards their ship. But he knew how this ended. He knew. 

“ Had to go back to Tatooine today. Hell-hole was still there. Couldn’t face it. I- ” there was a really shaking inhale. “ It felt like I was stuck again. For a moment, I thought I was-I was feeling- ” they were sobbing now, and Din ached for this mystery mandalorian. His heart ached. “ I can’t, I just...I can’t. ”

The file ended. Din waited. He forgot to count them, he had no idea how many there were to listen to. He let out his breath when another began. 

“ So not only did the contractor call me back to Tatooine, they tell me the bounty I caught for them escaped! So now I need to go out into the desert and recapture the bounty. Unbelievable, apparently no one knows how to do their karking job anymore, ” they sighed and Din tensed up. They had to go into the desert? That’s where he found the armour!

“ I’m heading out there tonight.”

Please don’t go.

“ If I travel while the bounty is resting, I should be able to catch them before they get too far. ”
You won’t get them, Din wanted to tell them. You will die.

“ I’ve faced worse. ”

You haven’t, not worse than death.

“ I’ll survive this too. ”

You won’t.

There was a snort. “ The Great Boba Fett: he died on Tatooine twice. You have to admit that would be a wicked epitaph. ”

Wait.

“ I should probably wrap this up now, be best to get a full cycle of rest before night falls. I want to be fresh for the hunt. ”

The mandalorian was named Boba? 

“ I have to say, this is starting to grow on me. Feels like I’m talking to a friend. ”

Din could be Boba’s friend, he could. 

“ Anyways, I guess I’ll make another recording when I get back. ”

His bucket echoed with the sound of Boba signing off. Din let himself relax into the blankets and tried to calm down. This wasn’t a man he knew, this was a bounty hunter who met his end for a noble cause. Din could mourn, but he had to-

“ No! St-p, -mour!” His speakers exploded with sound. There was shouting and blaster fire, but most importantly, there was Boba’s voice. “ G- b-ck! Mine! No! ” The last word wasn’t yelled so much as wailed out. Din sat up and focused on the noise. 

“ Don’t leave me here!” His plea was barely audible as whoever attacked him left him behind. Din couldn’t make out any of the languages he was familiar with, which meant it wasn’t the Jawa’s or the Sand People, probably not the residents of any of the towns. So who were they? And how did the armour get from them to Cobb, to Din? 

Din glanced up at the sleeping child hanging above him. “Sorry bud, I think we have to go back to Tatooine.”

He waited a long time for the next file, but it didn’t come. He slipped out to check on the status of the update and found it completed. After checking to make sure he didn’t miss any of the recordings and fiddling around with some encrypted files, he input a new flight path and turned the ship around. Once they were on their way back where they came from Din checked the HUD for any other data he might have missed the last time.  

If there was even the slightest chance the mandalorian was still alive, he owed it to Boba to try. 

Din picked up the last place the signal pinged in to the network, and it was on the far side of the desert. No wonder Boba was panicked. No soul in their right mind would ever want to be left in a place like that without protection. 

Before Din knew it they were landing in the wastelands. Luckily there was a large cave system nearby, so he didn’t want to give up hope. Boba could be out there. He still had a chance. 

Din gently picked up the sleeping ad and tucked him in his carry bag. He managed to get the kids goggles and toque on without waking him up (what kind of monster takes their kid out without proper protection from the sand? The little guy had sensitive eyes and ears, they needed to be covered in a desert). 

Din decided to grab a survival kit before he set out. He hung it on his belt beside Boba’s helmet. If Boba was alive, he would need help. He might be dehydrated, or starving, or have severe heat stroke. As he prowled around the cave entrances his mind ran over the protocol for treating heat stroke. He only hoped it would be enough. 

He hadn’t even set foot in a cave before he felt eyes watching him. Din grabbed the child and held the carry bag close to his chest and prayed his beskar would be enough for them both. They’d been lucky so far, but if whoever was watching him was hostile…

“Well well, what do we have here?” The voice that called out to him was hauntingly familiar. It was the same voice he’d been listening to for the past several hours. 

“Boba?” Din’s voice was shaking as he called out and turned around to find the source of the voice. “Boba Fett?”

“Who’s asking?” The figure Din saw was far from the dehydrated, heat-stricken mess he was expecting. This man was broad and muscular, and cut a dashing figure on top of a sand dune, backlit by the light of the rising twin suns. Din found himself lost for words. The mandalorian was real, and he was beautiful. 

“Why are you here?” The suspicion in his voice was so jarring it knocked Din back into his head. “The mandalorians come to make sure I’m really dead?”

“What? No! I came to save you,” Din let the carry bag fall back to his hip, and checked to make sure the child was still asleep. “I found your armour, I was hoping I could find you.”

“Find me?” He scoffed. “No one ‘finds’ Boba Fett. They either hunt me down or stumble across me. So which is it?”

“I-what? I’ve brought your armour, I’ve come to return it to you and offer assistance if needed.”

Din was pretty sure he was losing the conversation. But Boba was just so beautiful. His curls framed his dark face enticingly, and his eyes were drawing him in, so deep he felt like he was looking into Boba’s soul. Underneath his outward appearance of violence and danger, he looked almost scared. 

“Boba, I’m not here to hurt you,” Din’s brain was catching up after the shock, and he realized the man’s weapon was still raised. “Here, see?”

He slowly reached behind him to unhook Boba’s helmet. Din met his eyes and held it up. 

“Set it on the ground and back up, slowly! Keep your hands where I can see them,” Boba started stalking forward and Din complied with his instructions. 

When the other mandalorian was close, Din ducked his head to check on the kid. Thankfully he was still sleeping. When he looked back up, Boba was crouching, his head to the top of his helmet. There were tears rolling down his face. 

Then Boba made a wounded noise and Din moved to him, instructions be damned. This man was hurting and Din could help. It was a testament to how distracted the man was that Din got all the way to his side without alerting him. It took a hand on Boba’s shoulder to get the man to notice him. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Boba let Din pull him up, accepted the water pack Din slipped into his hands. 

“If you’re going to kill me mando, better make it quick,” Boba was kneeling beside his restored armour. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” Din whispered as he watched from the entrance. 

He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, trying in vain to think of what he could say to get Boba to trust him. Din felt like he knew the man so well after listening to so many of his recordings, but Din was a stranger to him. The other mandalorian had no reason to trust him, no reason why he shouldn’t just murder Din and take the Razor Crest and, he shuddered just thinking about it, the child. 

Din didn’t doubt that he could either. Boba emanated a brutal and effective energy, even hunched over his jetpak and talking about his death. 

“You’re a mandalorian,” Boba looked up at him. “And I’m an outcast. My father was the last true mand’alor, and I am nothing but his shadow.”

“Your father was mand’alor?”

Boba gave him an incredulous look, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline and his eyes wide with shock. 

“You don’t know me? But you knew my name?” His voice was almost reverent. 

“All I know of you is what I learned from your helmet,” Din nodded to the buy’ce. “And you didn’t keep much on it. Many of the files were corrupted and unable to be salvaged, or encrypted enough that I haven't had the chance to crack them. I was hoping I could find you so you could lead me to others of our kind.”

“Haven’t you been listening mando? I’m not like you,” his face flickered and Din would swear he saw more of that haunting sadness in his eyes. 

“You are a mandalorian, you said your father was a haat mand’alor,” Din uncrossed his arms and moved to stand in front of Boba. The other man had to tilt his head up to keep watching Din. Din saw him swallow before he answered. 

“I am no mandalorian,” Boba closed his eyes and leaned against his pile of armour. “If you aren’t going to kill me, let me sleep. It was a long kriffing year in that desert.”

Din just nodded and left for the cockpit. When he sat down in his chair, he sighed. It would be right back to where they were before, but this time with an extra passenger. Din locked in the flight path and set the auto navigator on. He thought about his comfy nook with the child, but ultimately decided to sleep in his chair. His gut was telling him to trust Boba, but his brain was telling him to remain cautious. 

Din jerked awake to a squeal from below deck. He was on his feet in a second, racing towards the loud sounds of the child. He had his hand on his blaster before his feet touched the floor.

“Look! Here’s buir!” Boba was holding the child. 

Boba was holding the child, who was squealing in delight that Boba was letting him grab his long curls (which Din absently noted were loose from the braid most had been in when they first came aboard). 

“You’re awake,” Din wasn’t sure who he was talking to. His ad usually came to see him when he woke up, but instead he’d gone to Boba?

“Slept like a tooka, thanks for asking,” Boba waggled his fingers at the child. “Where are you taking me?”

“I’m not taking you anywhere,” Din paused. “Unless there’s someplace you need to be?”

Now that he thought about it, abducting a man in clear emotional distress was not his wisest move, especially abducting him without a plan.

“It’s been years since I’ve had anywhere to be,” Boba frowned at the child and gently pulled his hair out of their mouth. “What’s up with baby Yoda?”

“What’s a Yoda?” Din sat beside Boba and took his kid from him. Din pulled a snack from one of the pockets on his belt and started unwrapping it for the child. When he was holding it securely he pulled another out and offered it to Boba. 

“Yoda is-or was, I have no idea if he’s still around-one of the Jedi,” Boba spat the last word like it was a curse (or worse than a curse, Boba seemed to have no problem cursing up a storm). “The little one looks just like him. But a hell of a lot younger. People said Yoda was like two thousand years old.”

Din’s stomach dropped. Two thousand? Din would maybe live for another seventy, if he was lucky and didn’t get taken out before his natural death. His kid would have so many decades of his life without him. He held the kid a little tighter. 

“Course, the holonet was always unreliable. Yoda didn’t look a day over seven hundred,” Boba shook his head. “I didn’t notice the similarity until I saw the little one this morning, the goggles and hat hid the ears.”

“Do you know where his people are?” Din looked at Boba, who was munching away on the snack and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. He wondered if Boba was always this relaxed when he was kidnapped. 

Not that Din was kidnapping him, he was rescuing him. Without a plan. 

“All I know is the Jedi are gone. Well, most of them,” Boba frowned and looked into Din’s visor. “I saw a recording of the Death Star explosion, and it looked like they were in the Yavin system. If you really need to find those Jedi bastards, that’s where I would start.”

“You hate the Jedi?” Din needed to know. He couldn’t give his child to bad people. He might have been quested to return the kid, but he wouldn’t deliver the kid to anyone like those first Imperials. 

“They killed my father and sent me to prison. I was a child, and they locked me up for life,” he sounded bitter. 

Din leaned in to press their shoulders together, and Boba looked at him with his eyebrows raised. 

“I don’t hate them, I hate what they did. They didn’t deserve to have their whole culture wiped out.”

“No one does.”

The death of a people and a hopeful attempt at rebuilding their society. It was something the mandalorians and the Jedi seemed to have in common.

Living with Boba was awkward for many reasons. First because the man didn’t really talk to him. He was just...around. All the time. Following Din to the cockpit, watching Din calculate their next jump (and correcting him the one time with a smirk on his face). Watching Din prepare latemeal for them, looking as he snuck into his room so he could eat, looking as he came out with an empty plate. 

Second, because Boba didn’t ask him once about his plans, not since the first day. He didn’t ask Din if he was going to let Boba go when they got wherever they were going, hells, he didn’t even ask where they were going. 

Third, because Boba was good with the kid. Fantastic, even. But he never mentioned it. There was no ‘can I hold your kid’ or ‘can I feed your child.’ Boba just picked the kid up, he just fed the child. Din wasn’t bothered by that, really. But he did find it strange. 

It was all so...awkwardly domestic. 

Before they reached the Yavin system, they needed to stop to refuel. Without hesitating, Boba offered to stay on the ship with the kid. Without pausing, Din accepted. 

When he was deep in the markets he had a panicked moment of self doubt, and fear that Boba had figured out there was a bounty on him and would try to cash in on it. 

And then Din remembered the Boba he knew from the audio files, the Boba who was aching to have someone in his corner, to have a person. So Din decided that now that he could be that person, he would be that person, at least until Boba could find someone else to do that. 

As he browsed the stalls, a certain memory from the recordings came back to him, so he grabbed a few things from a small stall to bring home. Boba might like a gift. 

“You bought yarn?” Boba looked up from the bag incredulously. 

“You mentioned knitting, in your recordings. It sounded important to you,” Din tried not to let any of his insecurity show in his posture. Even the slightest twitch could give away so much. “I hope this is adequate for your needs.”

“Oh,” the man seemed lost for words. 

He didn’t bring it up for the rest of the evening, but when Din emerged the next morning, Boba was sitting in the copilot's chair (which had unofficially become his spot) knitting away. The gentle clacking of the needles was calming for Din. Boba had always sounded more relaxed when his words were spoken to the backdrop of the clicking. 

Not another word was said about Din’s gift, but slowly Din watched a blanket take shape. He realized belatedly that he should have gotten all the same yarn instead of a dozen colours, but he didn’t know anything about the hobby. The blanket looked good though. 

Din was about to tuck into his cubby room to sleep when Boba called to him. The other man was sitting on his sleep pallet, leaning against the wall. He had the blanket in his hands, but no needles. Instead he was weaving a piece of yarn in and out of the blanket, which Din could now see was attached to the corner.

“Is there something you need?” Boba shook his head and stood up, shaking out the little patchwork blanket. The different colours and textures were endearing, and it looked like it was made with expertise. 

“It’s done,” Boba stated and tossed the blanket at him. 

“It’s nice,” Din couldn’t feel the softness past his gloves, but he could imagine. After a few seconds of holding it (and admiring that Boba made this from a mess of yarn and two sticks) he held it out. 

Boba looked at him like he was offended. 

“You bought the yarn, the blanket is for you,” Boba sat back down on his pile of blankets and rubbed a hand over his helmet. Boba didn’t wear his helmet much, he left it sitting at the edge of his little blanket-bed. Din liked looking at his face, so he didn’t mind. 

“Thank you,” Din pulled the blanket to his chest and felt very much like he was left standing on the wrong foot. “Uh. Good night.”

Boba just hummed at him and produced his needles and another ball of yarn from somewhere. He was clicking away as Din turned around and moved to his cubby. 

His chest felt light. 

They hadn’t made it to Yavin before everything went south. 

“Why don’t you take your helmet off?” 

Din was sitting in the pilots seat, but he was turned to lazily watch Boba knit another scarf. The man had already made one for the child (and a matching toque because he was so small) and one for himself. At this rate, Boba was going to run out of yarn before they touched down. 

Things had calmed somewhat between them as they fell into an easy rhythm. They coexisted well once they were used to one another. And then Boba asked the question. 

“This is the way,” Din frowned under his helmet. 

“Right, but,” Boba paused his knitting and frowned back at him. “What’s keeping it on? Who would know if you just took it off?”

“I would know,” Din couldn’t help the tension filling his body, the way he was leaning into Boba’s space. All things considered, the two seats weren’t so far apart. 

“Yeah,” Boba set his project on the floor by his chair. “But is this what you want?”

“Is this what I want? Of course it is,” Din was full on scowling by this point. This was his culture. Boba had no right to question it. 

“It’s just, argh, I don’t know,” Boba leaned in too, and if Din’s helmet were off, there wouldn’t be much space between them. “Are you happy? I mean, come on, mando, it must get stuffy-”

“My name is Din!” He shouted at Boba, who was looking a bit flushed despite his dark complexion. “It does not ‘get stuffy.’ This is my life, my culture, and you don’t get an opinion about that.”

Boba was looking at him with his sad eyes again, and Din just deflated. It was wrong of him to yell, even if he meant every word. He wasn’t sure how to apologize, so he just leaned forward. 

He kept leaning, and only stopped when the top of his helmet was gently pressed against Boba’s forehead. Din closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the emotions swimming in Boba’s eyes. 

“I wasn’t judging you,” he whispered after a minute. “Where I came from, most of the mandalorians I knew loved taking their helmets off. They spent more time out of the helmet than in it.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Boba pulled back slightly, and Din opened his eyes to see the earnest look on Boba’s face. “You’re right, it’s your culture. It’s not my place to question it.”

“Thank you,” Din murmured. 

It only took a second, but when his brain caught up to the fact that he jus t kissed Boba Fett he lurched to his feet. He was stumbling down the ramp in no time, after mumbling something about checking on the kid. 

He didn’t see Boba until latemeal, which was painfully horrible. Din sat with the other two as they ate, replenishing the kid’s plate until he wasn’t hungry anymore. There was nothing but silence and the sounds of chewing. 

Din ate his own meal in record time, irrationally worried that Boba would try and catch him without his helmet on. After the apology he understood Boba would respect him, but there was that small voice at the back of his head that was whispering to him to be safe.

That evening, he slept with his helmet on for the first time since buying Boba the knitting supplies. 

The next morning there was a scarf folded neatly on his chair. Din tugged his gloves off to feel the softness. He turned when he heard Boba climbing up the ladder to the pit. 

Boba slumped down in his seat, having passed by Din without a word. Din reached out and squeezed Boba’s arm, trying to send a quiet thank you for the peace offering. 

He probably imagined the way Boba’s eyes lingered on his hands. Still, he decided to keep his gloves tucked on his belt for the rest of the morning. 

Din glanced at Boba, who was sitting idly and picking at a hole in his pants. Technically they were Din’s pants, but the robes Boba was wearing when he found him just weren’t a great look with all the holes. After a few washes they started falling apart, and Din wasn't quite skilled enough with a needle to repair something falling apart at all the seams.

“I can fix those for you,” Din was looking ahead when he spoke, so he missed whatever happened to make Boba’s voice sound strained. 

“Thanks.”

“Of course,” maintaining things was kind of Din’s specialty. Flying the Razor Crest taught him a lot about getting out what you put in. Some people might look at Din’s ship and see a hunk of junk, but when Din looked? He saw a reliable ship, sturdy and dependable. Even if it did feel like the galaxy was conspiring against them to break his ship. 

They sat in silence for a while until Din found himself bored out of his mind. 

“No knitting today?” The lack of steady clacking was making Din mad. That was the soundtrack for his cockpit time. 

“Ran out of yarn,” was the answer, accompanied by a loose shrug. 

“Oh,” Din felt silly. Sure, the bag seemed like a lot of yarn when he brought it home, but with the amount Boba was going through it was nothing. 

“Blankets take more than you’d think,” Boba’s voice was almost apologetic. Din glanced over at him and found Boba looking back. He cleared his throat. 

“Well, maybe they’ll have some on Yavin IV.”

Thankfully, Yavin IV did have yarn. But even more importantly, Yavin IV had the Jedi. Or, the new Jedi. Din strolled down the forest path that would take them to the Temple with Boba in tow. The kid was cuddled against Boba’s chest, eyes wide and taking every detail in. 

Din marched up to the doors and found a being waiting for them.

“My name is Luke, I knew you were coming,” Luke was very handsome. They had sun-bleached hair that swooped across a smooth forehead, and startling blue eyes that looked right through Din’s helmet. They weren't wearing the heavy robes Boba told him to expect, they were in a simple spacers outfit. It was similar to the clothes Boba borrowed from Din. 

It wasn’t a competition or anything, but Din privately thought Boba was better looking than the Jedi. Luke was handsome, but Boba was stunning. 

“Please, if you’ll follow me?” Din looked to Boba, not for approval, but to check and make sure he was comfortable going into the Jedi’s home with all the history. Boba nodded and shifted the kid higher on his chest, sitting on one arm. His free arm fell to hand beside his holster.

The Jedi led their group deep into the halls of the temple, which had looked massive from the outside. Which made sense given the size of the halls. 

There was a loud thump coming from a room they were passing, and Din found himself being shoved behind Boba. The Jedi looked back at them curiously. 

“My students are practicing lifting large objects in there. From the sounds of it, they are failing spectacularly,” Luke chuckled. “They have to learn somehow!”

When they continued on Boba kept a hand on his forearm and a scowl on his face. 

“He isn’t as soft as he seems,” Boba leaned in close to his visor to whisper. “I knew him, back on Tatooine.”

Din nodded, and noted how the Jedi studiously kept his gaze forward. 

Luke led them to a warm, cozy room and offered drinks. Din refused because of the helmet, Boba refused likely because he didn’t trust the Jedi. 

“Well, first things first, good to see you again Fett,” the man crossed a leg over his knee and leaned back into his chair. Din didn’t even need to look to feel Boba tense up even more. 

Din reached out and set a hand on his knee. Boba flicked his gaze to Din and softened slightly. 

“Figured you’d need the armour to recognize me,” Boba sniffed and bounded the child in his lap. 

“I don’t need the armour to remember you , your Force signature is...unforgettable,” Luke smirked at Boba. “And a face like yours? It’s not every day a handsome stranger passes by.”

This time it was Din who bristled. Was he flirting with Boba? He pulled his hand back to his own lap, ignoring the concerned look from Boba. 

“Let’s get back to why we’re here,” Boba growled at him. 

“Right,” Luke’s face went serious and he sat forward. “I assume you’ve brought the child for training?”

“I was tasked by my armourer to deliver him to his kind, I was told he is one of the Jedi.”

“He can do that thing, where you make stuff float with your magic,” Boba piped up. 

“It’s not magic,” Luke corrected, but he was smiling. “We would be happy to train your child.”

They sat in silence for a moment as sadness welled up in Din’s chest. He felt like breathing was too hard. It would be so hard to leave him. 

Din leaned over and took the kid from Boba. He came happily, but the other man wasn’t exactly thrilled. 

“I guess this is goodbye, ad,” Din spoke softly to the child. “These are your people.”

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding?” The Jedi interrupted Din’s goodbye. “You don’t need to leave him, unless you want to. You’re more than welcome to stay and remain his parents.”

“But the Jedi-” Luke cut Boba off. 

“We’re doing things differently now. Families, they sing in the Force,” Luke smiled at them. “We are trying to preserve the family unit, wherever we can. There are full wings of rooms available for you to stay in the temple if you wish.”

“We don’t have to leave him?” Din was crying, and he wished he wasn’t. It wouldn’t be easy to find a place to take his helmet off so he could wipe his face. 

“We can stay?” Boba sounded so happy, and so surprised. Din watched him grin before remembering where he was and shutting it off again. 

Boba hadn’t even asked if he could stay. It was just assumed that they would stay together. How could they not? Just like before, when Din took him off Tatooine, they didn’t discuss it. It was just how things were going. Before, maybe Din would have been more worried that they weren’t talking about the details. 

“You can stay,” Luke confirmed. “I had rooms prepared when the Force told me you were coming. I can take you to them?”

This time when they set out Boba grabbed Din’s hand instead of his arm. Unlike with the yarn, Din could feel Boba through his thick gloves. His hands were so warm. 

Their rooms were perfect, exactly what they needed. There was a small kitchen, a common room, two bedrooms, and a tiny office. Din decided the kid got the biggest room and Boba could take the other bedroom. Din would sleep in the office, the small walls were familiar. It was comforting to be surrounded on all sides. 

It took them a while to settle in, but Luke assured them they were safe from the Imperial remnants hunting them. 

So, they stayed. Boba procured more yarn and was working on a second blanket, this time with all matching yarn. He was making some sort of pattern with different coloured waves, and Din loved it. 

One day while the kid was in classes, Boba was sitting on the couch. Instead of flopping down on what he thought of as ‘his’ chair, Din carefully sat beside Boba. When the knitting didn’t slow down, Din braved leaning into him. Boba still didn’t pause, so Din let himself press their sides together more firmly and tip his helmet to the back of the couch. 

After a moment, he heard Boba let out a gentle sigh. Din took his afternoon nap right there beside Boba as he knitted. 

The next few afternoon naps passed much the same. And then when Din came out Boba was reading a holonovel on a small datapad. He put it away when he saw Din approach. The mandalorian was lingering hesitantly. This was something new. 

Boba stood up and walked the rest of the way to Din. 

“Thought I’d nap today,” he had a strange glint in his eye. 

“Oh,” Din had nothing better to say to that. He let Boba lead him to Din’s room. 

Boba looked back at him when he grabbed the door handle, and Din nodded. 

When they were inside, Din decided to take off his extra armour since his rack was right there. It was a tight fit on the bed, but they made it work. Instead of facing away from each other like Din was planning, they lay front to front. Boba’s head was tucked into Din’s neck, and he tangled all of his limbs with Din’s. He was radiating heat like there was no tomorrow, and Din had never been so comfortable. 

Din felt they needed to talk, but at the same time he was so tired and Boba was so warm, so he let himself drift off. He woke up later with Boba holding him tight while his hair tickled Din's neck. 

From then on, any time Boba wanted a nap too they would go into Din’s room. Aside from that, naptime stayed mostly the same. Din let himself get a close to Boba while he slept, but the knitting kept him a bit farther than he wanted sometimes. 

The next change came when they were saying goodnight one evening. The kid was already asleep, tuckered out from playing with the other Jedi kids all day. Boba and Din were having a quiet conversation in the hall and neither really wanted it to end. 

Eventually Din just opened his door and gestured for Boba to come inside. 

“Don’t you sleep with,” Boba waved a hand in front of his face. “Don’t you take it off at night?”

“I’m willing to make an exception,” Din said around a yawn. He fumbled with getting the right hooks for his armour. 

It took a second, but soon Boba was taking off his clothes. Din panicked, he forgot people don’t usually sleep in their clothes. Luckily, Boba left his undershorts on. 

They fell into bed already tangled together, and Din was out like a light in seconds. 

Boba’s room fell out of use after that. Din decided they ought to have a talk about what was going on here. For a moment he seriously wondered if he had Stockholm Syndromed Boba. 

They had their big talk after sleeping in the same bed for several weeks. And Din, as good with words as he was, began the conversation by asking:

“Are you even happy here?” It wasn’t the best conversation starter. Predictably Boba bristled and snapped at him.

“What kind of question is that? Am I happy here,” he scoffed and clicked his needles together almost aggressively. 

“So you are?” Din just wanted to clarify.

“Stupid questions don’t get answers.”

“I just mean-” Din looked at the floor. “Do you regret this? You can leave, if you want to. I understand there might be places you need to be. You can take the Razor Crest, I won’t be leaving until the kid is old enough, and-” Boba cut him off, which was good because he was running out of breath.

“Do you want me to leave?” Boba was looking at him with his beautiful eyes, holding his needles still in his lap, completely focused on Din.

“I want you to stay, but if you need to go-” Boba cut him off again. 

“Then I’m staying. Okay, Din?”

“Okay.”

“Before you even met me, you were looking out for me,” Boba was curled against Din’s chest, playing with his hair. Even after so long together, Din still had to fight to keep from shivering when Boba’s hands were on him. They were so warm, Boba ran hot, as Din learned early on. 

“Yes, cyare,” he murmured and ran a hand over Boba’s curls. 

“You’re always looking out for me,” his voice was shaking. 

“Hey, Bob’ika, what’s wrong?” Din sat up and brought Boba up with him.

Boba’s hands were now gripping at Din’s shoulders, and he was shaking in Din’s arms. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe here,” Din rubbed his hands soothingly up and down his back, waiting until Boba calmed enough to whisper a thank you.

“Want to tell me what that’s about?” Din wouldn’t force an answer, but he wanted Boba to know he could tell Din anything. 

“It’s just-after my father died, there hasn’t been anyone,” he rushed that bit, never wanting to show weakness. “I haven’t had someone, a person, to count on. It’s just been me, for so long.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Din promised. 

“I know that, but still,” Boba fell into silence for a while, and Din didn’t try to rush him. When he spoke again, it was hushed, whispered to him like a confession. 

“I haven’t had anyone I’ve been scared to lose in a long, long time.”

“Oh, Boba,” Din hugged him a little tighter and tipped his helmet down to hold their foreheads together. 

“I can’t lose you, Din,” Boba wasn’t shaking anymore. “I won’t survive it.”

“You won’t lose me, but you would survive it. You’d have to, to look after our ad,” Din cupped Boba’s face and looked him in the eye. “If you’re strong enough to survive a sarlacc and everything that came before, you’re strong enough to keep living while I march on. One of us has to prepare the way.”

“I know, but I don’t want to live without you.”

“Me neither.”

“Hey Din?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving my armour.”

“You’re welcome?”

“Why was that a question?”

“I guess, just, why now?”

“I never thanked you, before,” Boba smirked up at him. “Seemed rude that you’d never get a proper thanks as payment for your noble deed.”

“Oh, I get a payment, do I?” Din was smirking too. 

Boba pressed a hand flat against Din’s chest, right above where his heart was pounding in anticipation. 

“Of course,” Din closed his eyes when Boba pressed a kiss under his chin. He sighed happily when Boba pulled up the blanket and cuddled closer. Din smiled under his helmet when he felt the different yarns from the first blanket Boba made him. 

Not too long after, Din presented Boba with a mudhorn signet. “I want us to be a clan of three.”

Boba may have teared up and pulled him into an aggressive embrace. They had the mudhorn fused onto his kar’ta beskar. 

As soon as the blacksmith had the mudhorn properly attached, they were sprinting back to their rooms. It was the fastest they had ever put the kid to sleep, and before Din could think of how to tell Boba he could take the helmet off now, Boba had his hands on either side of Din’s helmet. 

“Are you ready?” Boba was breathless. 

Din swallowed. “Yeah.”

Instead of just pulling the helmet off and being done with it, Boba teased him. First he slipped his hands down to Din’s throat, up under his chin. Then he pressed their bodies close together, and Din figured this was it, but then Boba slid a finger up the side of Din’s left cheek, under his helmet. Boba laughed at him, he could probably feel how hard Din’s heart was beating, and maybe even how hot his face was. 

Din waited patiently as Boba explored his face with a finger, rubbing along his chin and feeling the stubble there before going further in to poke his nose. Boba wasn’t laughing anymore. 

Din swallowed again, and Boba dipped down to kiss his throat when it moved. Why hadn’t they thought of this sooner?

Din bit off a groan when Boba snuck the rest of his hand inside Din’s helmet. It was a tight fit, but Din wasn’t wearing his insulating head covering, so there was just enough room for Boba to cup his cheek with his warm, warm hand. 

“Boba,” Din whispered and closed his eyes. “Boba.”

“Din,” Boba rubbed his thumb across his cheekbone, making Din’s breath catch in his throat. It was too much, but not enough. No one had touched his face in decades, it was so foreign a feeling, but he wanted more . 

Din grabbed hold of Boba’s flightsuit and tugged.

“Okay, okay,” Boba took his hand out and Din instantly missed it’s warmth. 

But then Boba was lifting his helmet off, actually lifting it off , and Din was...he was…

He was panicking. He grabbed Boba’s wrists when the bottom of the helmet was at his nose. He couldn’t see anything like this, but he needed to pause. He needed to take a breath. 

“Do you want to stop?” Boba’s voice was quiet, but he couldn’t hear any judgement or sadness in his voice. Just pure supportive understanding. "We don't have to do this now. It's okay to wait."

“No, I just, I need a second,” Din closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

“Kriff, Din, I’m working really hard not to kiss you right now,” Boba was close to laughing again. “So much self control, you have no idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Din smiled and ran his thumbs across Boba’s wrists. That always made him shiver. And sure enough, Din could feel Boba’s body tremble.

“Has it been a second?” His voice sounded mildly strained. 

“It’s been a second,” Din nodded. He panicked for a second when his helmet shifted farther up, but relaxed when he felt Boba’s breath on his lips.

“So can I kiss you now?” Boba’s lips were so close to his they were brushing against them as he spoke. 

“You,” Din licked his lips. “You can kiss me now.”

Boba almost didn’t let him finish. The angle was a bit awkward with the half-on helmet, which Boba thankfully didn’t try to pull any higher, but it was like coming up for a breath of fresh air. Boba’s lips were warm and soft against his own, and Din never knew this was what kissing would feel like. It was slow and gentle one moment, then hungry and sharp the next. Kissing Boba was like nothing he’d ever felt before. They spent a long while sinking into the rhythm and exploring each other's mouths.  

Eventually Boba pulled back and peppered kisses all across his jaw while Din tried to catch his breath. His hold on Boba’s wrists kept him grounded in the rush of all the intimacy. Din leaned his head back as Boba kissed his way across Din’s cheeks, what parts of them he could reach, and Din almost lost all of his progress getting his breath back when Boba stole another kiss.

“Cyare,” Din pressed their chests together. He still couldn’t see anything. 

“Hmm?” Boba didn’t even lift his head from kissing Din’s jaw. 

“Take my helmet off,” he wasn’t nervous anymore. Not if this was what it was going to be like. If this was what Boba would be like.

“You sure?” His partner finally pulled back. 

“I’m sure,” Din moved his hands up to cover Boba’s, and they lifted his helmet together. 

Din blinked against the unfiltered light, and Boba’s face was right there.

“Hey there,” the corners of Boba’s eyes crinkled up.

“You’re very close,” Din braced a hand on Boba’s chest and used his other to clip his helmet on his belt. 

“I am,” Boba agreed, smiling wide enough Din worried his face might crack. “You’re very handsome.”

“Oh, shut up,” Din blushed and looked away.

“You blush?” Boba’s eyes went wide with delight, and his smile grew impossibly larger. Din tried to cover his cheeks, but Boba stopped his hands. The man kissed the backs of his hands before letting them go. 

“You get one joke about helmet hair,” Din threatened him with a poke in the chest. Boba just kept smiling and staring at his face. 

“I love your hair,” Boba’s eyes lit up like he had an idea, and soon his hands were running through Din’s ruffled hair. Din let his eyes fall closed as Boba tugged and guided his head closer. 

He thought Boba was bringing him in for another breath-stealing kiss, but Boba gave him a mirshmure’cya instead. Keldabe kisses were just as intimate, and Din let himself drift into a happy state of fuzziness. 

“It feels so much better without your helmet in the way,” Boba’s breath was hitting his face again, and Din was so glad when he pulled them in for another kiss. Boba was pulling them closer and closer until Din thought there was no space left between them. 

Din tried to pull back, but Boba grunted in protest against Din’s mouth and if that wasn’t enough to make Din forget what he wanted to say…

It took Din another few minutes to actually pull away from Boba, once again out of breath but no longer caring.

“Boba,” Din had to bring up a hand to cover Boba’s mouth so he could have a second. The man pressed a heated kiss to his palm before nuzzling it so Din was cupping his face. 

“Din,” he whispered back. 

“I want you with me for the rest of my life,” Din met his gaze, and without the visor Boba’s eyes looked like a slightly lighter shade of brown, and they shone a bit too. 

“Okay,” Boba grinned at him boyishly. 

“Alright then,” Din smiled back. 

“Partners in crime.”

Din laughed and Boba tugged him into a tight hug. 

“Ni kartayli gar darasuum.”

“I love you too.”