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Boba takes Kryze and her sidekick back to the little moon they left their ship on. When they reach the shipyard, Din once again tries to give up the Darksaber. Fennec had relayed the whole story to Boba, and he'd laughed himself into near hysterics at the thought that Kryze's only reward for the mission had been watching her most desperate hope fall into the hands of someone she so openly disdained. Once he'd explained the situation to Fennec, she'd laughed so hard her cybernetics had whirred and she'd had to sit down.
Kryze refuses to take the saber. Din's still holding it out, but as Kryze just stares at him, he stiffens and turns away.
“Come find me if you change your mind,” Din says. He tucks the thousand year old symbol of rightful rule into the pouch on his waist where he keeps ration bars and leaves Kryze in the dust. It may be the best thing Boba has ever seen.
Kryze has her helmet on but her glare is so acidic it would likely melt were it made of anything but beskar. Boba follows Din slowly, backwards up the ramp because he doesn't trust Kryze not to try something. She stares after them for a long moment, and his hatred of her and worry for Din roil in his stomach. Though she finally turns and vanishes with her lackey into the city, he still feels her glare until they reach hyperspace.
With Kryze gone, the atmosphere on the ship lightens considerably. Dune seems reluctant to leave Din alone, but her and Fennec have fallen into friendly camaraderie in between smashing Stormtroopers' heads open. They seem content to impress each other with embellished stories of their narrow escapes while Din quietly keeps them company. He alternates between cleaning his blasters and absently twirling the little silver ball he'd taken from the Razor Crest between his fingers.
When they're only a few hours out from Nevarro, Dune pulls Din aside in the cargo bay. Noting the determined frown on her face and the semi-private corner she's stashed them away in, Boba retreats to the ship's tiny galley to brew himself and Fennec some truly awful cups of instant caf.
“Giving them their space?” She asks idly, swirling her mug. The first time he made caf for her, she'd asked very seriously why he'd bothered saving her life if only to poison her at the first opportunity. Nowadays she'll drink maybe half a mug to humor him.
“I don't think Dune wants to leave without having some kind of heart to heart.”
Fennec shakes her head at the sugar he holds out. She stares into her mug for a long moment before setting it aside untouched. “He's coming with us then?”
Boba takes the sugar back slowly. “I intend to uphold our deal.”
“You don't consider it complete?”
“The child is not returned.”
Fennec picks up her caf but doesn't drink. “You want him to stick around?”
It's not a question. Boba doesn't look away, but the locked-on intensity of her gaze makes him want to. “Yes.”
Fennec's mouth curls up in one corner. He sips his caf to try and break some tension. “You like having him around?”
“I'm honouring our deal.”
“You two seem to get along well.”
“Is that some kind of problem?”
She's smirking now. “I'm glad you get along.”
“Shand.”
“Okay.” She stands and dumps her full mug down the tiny sink. “Full disclosure. I don't consider myself a sentimental person-”
“Really?”
She points her empty mug at him like a vibroblade. In her hands, it's probably just as deadly. “But seeing him give up that baby? I don't know what the hell's going on with the Jedi and training or whatever, but that was a mistake. He was really messed up. So. If the plan for Tatooine now includes another baby rescue, count me in.”
“And Din?”
Fennec's genuine smile is a rare commodity. She treats him to one now. “Like I said. I'm glad you get along.”
Boba's getting better at hearing what goes unsaid in his conversations with Fennec. He stretches a leg out to knock at her ankle fondly. “Thanks.”
She kicks back at him without any heat, then straightens from her slouch against the sink and brushes past him. “I'll head to the cockpit, check our flight path,” and then, “hey Mando.”
Boba twists around to see Din replace Fennec in the galley's little doorway. He ignores the eyebrow she raises before disappearing and watches Din settle across the tiny table from him. “We're not far out from Nevarro,” he says. “Did Dune need anything before we get there?”
“She wants me to visit Karga with her. I think she wants me to have another friendly face around, but,” he shrugs one shoulder. “The first thing he'll do is ask to hold Grogu. I don't know if I can explain it all over again.”
“Fair enough.” Din seems better, but unhappiness still clings to every word when his son is brought up. Boba sets a hand next to Din's on the table, fingers just touching. “You can bring him to visit Karga later.”
“Yes.” Din interlaces their fingertips. Fennec's approval hums through the back of his head and he feels suddenly, stupidly nervous. He squeezes Din's hand before standing to heat more water, hoping his face isn't showing his feelings as much as he thinks it is. He spoons caf powder into the last clean mug and splashes in water, then sets it between Din's hands.
“Here. It's not great, but it's-” he chokes abruptly and shoots out a hand, clutching at Din's wrist. Din pauses, helmet lifted just enough to show his neck and chin. “Hey, hey, don't. I'll go.” He knows very little about Din's Mandalorians, but Boba's pretty damn sure that he's not supposed to see Din's face.
“I took it off on the light cruiser.” Din's voice is soft. “To say goodbye to Grogu.”
“But you don't have to-”
“It's alright.” Din lifts off his helmet, Boba's grip lax with surprise around his wrist. He settles the helmet next to Boba's on the side of the little table and reaches for his caf.
Din's handsome. His hair is messy and sticking up a little on one side, but it looks soft. He's smiling just a little, nervously, and it reaches all the way to his dark, kind eyes. He looks tired. Boba's still clutching his wrist, and he moves so that he's holding Din's hand instead.
“You didn't have to,” he says.
“I know.” There's a quiet moment where all Boba can do is let Din's trust settle over him. He watches Din's face turn almost comically disgusted as he drinks his caf and can't help but snort softly. It makes sense that Din would have an expressive face after all that time in his bucket, but still funny to watch his features scrunch up.
It also means the smile that Din sends his way is blindingly sincere. His head tilts to the side, just like Boba's does when he smiles in his helmet, and it makes a wave of affection crest behind Boba's sternum. Din rests the side of his foot against Boba's under the table.
He'd realized, when he'd held Din after they left the light cruiser, that he would do quite a lot to make this man happy. He'd liked Din since they met, been impressed by him, this kind, quiet man with steady hands and determination in every movement. He likes Din's hand in his and the soft fall of his hair, and the future he can maybe see if Din sees it too. But-
Technically they're operating under a business deal, although it stopped being one for Boba the moment he realized Din's devotion to his son. Loathe as he is to break the silence that has fallen softly between them, and despite his apprehension at the thought of uprooting this growing thing they have, he speaks.
“Listen.” Din hums and squeezes his hand. “I know I said that our deal isn't done. And I do intend to see it through. But I'll help you regardless of any debt. I want to. And,” he stumbles, because he wants to say this right and Din's eyes are intent on his, “I don't want there to be a sense of... obligations. Not to remove your helmet or,” he hesitates, but reaches to cup Din's jawline, touches the soft swell of his bottom lip with his thumb. “Anything else.”
Din lets go of Boba's hand to touch his jaw, mirroring their positions. He wonders if Din can sense how perilous this moment is, or if it just feels that way to Boba because of how badly he wants to get this right.
“You said you're in my debt,” Din says. “But I would only ask for your help. I don't want any obligations between us either.”
Boba laughs just a little. It's unexpected, but not surprising. Din's honourable. “Don't worry about that.”
“Then don't worry about me.” Din's fingers slide from his jaw to the side of his neck, then retreat. “I'm right where I want to be.”
Boba can't stop himself from touching Din's lip again. He starts to draw back, but stops when Din sets a hand on the table and leans forward. Din kisses him, soft and brief against his lips and again as a deep, lingering kov'nyn. When he pulls away Boba brushes his jaw with the backs of his gloved fingers. Din cradles his mug in his hands and smiles all the way to the corners of his eyes. He slides his foot between Boba's under the table and the faint pressure sings like a jump to hyperspace.
“I really can't believe you drink this caf,” Din says.
Boba's laugh sneaks up on him. He lets it fill the space between them, Din smiling back like he's just been given a gift. “You'd better get used to it if you're going to stick around.”
“Maybe I'll replace it on Tatooine.”
“Are you joking? Fennec loves this caf.”
“I'll believe that when I see it.” Despite the taste, Din drains his mug. He gets up to set it in the sink and takes his helmet. As he slides it on, Boba reaches around his waist and gives a brief squeeze. Din's solid and steady. He's going to stick around.
“Tell me about Grogu,” Boba says.
He could swear that Din's smile is shining right through his beskar.