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“Are you going to finish that?” Din looks pointedly at the bowl the kid is currently ignoring in favour of smearing something that was once fruit across the counter.
The stare loses its power under the helmet, and the kid grins up at him, drawing a clawed finger through the mess.
“Muh!”
The kid leans forward to grab the bowl as Din pulls it away.
“You’re just playing with it,” he says, holding the bowl out of reach. He picks out one of the green berries and slips it up under the lip of his helmet.
It’s sweet and juicy, bursting in his mouth.
One of the benefits of travelling with the kid is all the fresh fruit they eat now. The kid loves it—eating it and playing with it—and turns his nose up at the dry ration Din usually eats. Though nutritionally sound, the rations tend to lack any sort of flavour.
Finishing off the fruit—no point letting it go to waste—Din dumps the empty container beside the sink.
“Eh.” The kid sucks pulp off his fingers, shoving them all into his mouth at once before examining them with a critical eye. “Eh!”
“You’re a mess kid,” Din sighs, surveying the damage. Grogu’s face, hands and sleeves are dripping with the remains of dinner. “Stay there, I’ll get you a change of clothes.”
He turns to leave the galley, but Grogu whines and reaches for him.
“I’ll be back in just a moment,” Din reassures the kid, giving him and his sticky fingers a wide berth.
“Ba.” The kid's lip starts to wobble dangerously. Ever since Din rescued him from Moff Gideon, Grogu has struggled with being separated from him. The sleeping compartment is only a few steps away, but it’s out of sight around the corner and thus too far away.
Din knows he needs to get the kid used to being away from him, especially once he gets to this so-called Jedi Academy, but for now he gives in and reaches over to pick him up.
He holds the kid at arms-length and carries him over to the sink. With the kid sitting beside the shallow basin, Din starts the water running, stripping off his gloves to check the temperature. While the sink fills, he removes the rest of his armour, his cowl and flak vest, and undoes the fasteners to his flight suit.
Din had quickly learned that bath time is a shared experience and if he didn’t want something to get wet, he needed to take it off.
He ties the sleeves of his coveralls around his waist to keep them out of the way, then checks on the progress of the water. It’s a few inches deep so he shuts off the water, quickly strips the kid out of his stained robe and deposits him in the sink.
Grogu squeals his hands splashing in the warm water. He lifts his arms, watching the water trickle through his clawed fingers and looks up at Din in surprise.
There’s a big blue streak across his mouth, and another on one of his ears that Din has no idea how the kid managed. He grabs a cloth-- he's learned to keep squares of rags or old worn-out clothing around for this very reason. A damp cloth goes a long way for cleaning up some of the mess.
“Nuh.” The kid protests through the clean-up, twisting his head away from the rag, and scooting back against the edges of the basin.
“Just-" Din holds him still to get the streak on his ear. “One second.”
“Eh.”
“Alright, done.” He drops the rag in the water and lets the kid play while he retrieves his cloak from where he’d left it on the floor. It’s close and it’s clean—ish. Clean enough to dry the kid off with.
Din scoops Grogu out of the water and wraps him up. They’ve been docked on Bournda-3 for two days to refuel, restock and chase a bounty. It’s a temperate planet and the ship is much warmer than it would be flying through the void of space, still— Din dries the kid quickly and carries him around to their sleeping compartment to find a clean tunic.
Once Grogu is dressed, Din replaces his damp shirt and refastens his coveralls. By the time he has reattached his armour and tucked Grogu into his carry bag, most of the morning has gone. Fortunately, the tracking fob Din holds indicates that his bounty isn’t too far away.
After months or running and hiding it feels good to have things return to normal—albeit a new kind of normal with set meal and bed times and baths—but Din would not give this up for all the beskar in the galaxy.
“Okay buddy.” He looks down through his visor at the large dark eyes that peak back up at him from the depths of his cloak. “Let’s go.”