Chapter Text
This mission was a success. A nice change, really. For once, everything went as planned. They got to the bridge, took out the guards and technicians, and let the feral Mandalorian lady take care of Moff Gideon.
In the middle of their little fight, he had pulled out some glowing sword, but she managed to par most of his attacks. Apparently, mandalorian armor can withstand the heat of the blade. What couldn't be said about several chairs and panel controls that got in the way.
In no time, Bo-Katan had the Imp pinned to the ground. With his own saber held to his throat. He didn't look happy about it. He even tried to shoot himself in the head later, when their attention wasn't pointed at him. Migs would've let him, really, dude was a dick. Who in the world kidnaps a child and holds it in a prison cell? But Dune knocked him out. Something about needing him for interrogation, or some shit else. Then all was left to do for him was wait for Din.
They didn't have to wait long, though. Several moments later, Mando came striding in with the child in his arms. Both of them seemed unharmed. Migs sighed in relief. He wanted to go up to them, but he stopped himself. Would that seem weird? They still barely knew each other, even though they were married now. They should probably change that as soon as they got the chance for a moment without running, shooting, and being shot at. When was the last time he went on a vacation?
He forced his mind to come back to the present moment, now was not the time.
The rest was in the middle of discussing something. He glanced at Mando. He was standing a little to the side, clutching the kid but still participating in the conversation. Migs came a little closer to the group. He wanted to hear better what was happening. Bo-Katan was saying something about her taking the cruiser.
"That's fine with me, as long as I get to take Gideon to Nevarro for interrogation." The marshal replied firmly.
The Mandalorian nodded, "He's of no use to me anymore. I have what I needed." Then she turned to Mando, "You should reconsider my offer. Come with us, help us reunite our people."
Din turned his head to her, then down to the child, made a very brief glance in Migs' direction. He seemed to come to a verdict as he looked back at her and said, "I think we should stay low for some time... It would do good for the kid to get a break from dangerous situations." Bo-Katan nodded. But if someone asked him, Migs would say she wasn't happy about his decision.
"Perhaps you'll change your mind someday. You will be welcome at my side, even considering your ties to that cu- to the Tribe." She corrected herself. Was she about to say cult? Mando was in a cult? That would somehow explain why he didn't take his helmet off, and the others did. Not the time, he reminded himself. He would have to add that to the list of "Questions he had to ask his now-husband, about said husband", along with how he happened to be a father to an alien green bean who was now sleeping in his arms?
"If you want a place to stay low, you could come back with me to Nevarro. I can get you a nice, secluded place. And I'm sure Greef would love to be close enough for him to make sure you're taking proper care of the kid." Dune smiled. Actually smiled. Migs doesn't remember seeing her smiling without a trace of some kind of mischief or promise of pain in her eyes.
"That," he hesitated and looked to Migs. Was he asking him for an opinion? He really shouldn't have any right to decide anything about Din's life after he practically took away his freedom. That may seem a little exaggerated, but how else was he supposed to call it? Because of his cowardliness, Din had to marry him. Not someone he loved. Not even a good person. And from what he gathered, Mandalorians married for life. With the whole "no person can see my face and live" and all. So Migs just shrugged to let him know he was free to do anything he wanted. "That doesn't seem like such a bad idea." He said slowly.
"Great. We'll take one of the shuttles." It wasn't a question. She stated it, without caring about Bo-Katan's opinion. Now that. That he could respect. That lady seemed to look down at all of them, even her own kind. It reminded him too much of the imperial hierarchy. The higher-ups looking down on their subordinates, treating them like trash. That made him sick.
She proceeded to grab the still unconscious form of Moff Gideon and throw him over her shoulder. Just how much brute strength did that woman have? Though, Migs would be lying if he said it wasn't making something in his stomach flutter.
She made her way to the doors with Mando on her hills. Migs made a move to follow them, but the Mandalorian suddenly stopped and turned around.
"Wait, what about you?" His helmet was directed at Fennec Shan. Who was still standing on the side, so quiet that Migs had completely forgotten she was there. How sweet of Din to remember and care for all of his colleagues. Something Migs definitely wanted to get used to.
"I'll wait here until Boba returns. It shouldn't take long."
"You sure you don't want a ride?" Dune asked hopefully, and Shand smiled. Migs would bet all of his credits there something was happening between the two of them.
"I'm sure, but I'll maybe be able to visit you on your planet soon. See how well you're doing your work, Marshal." She smirked.
"Alright, let's go."
They took the shuttle, some supplies for the flight packed on board along with very disgruntled Moff Gideon secured to one of the passenger bucket seats, still in handcuffs and now gagged. Migs is pretty grateful for the last part. The guy doesn't know when to shut up. And that's saying something coming from him.
Dune was sitting in the pilot's chair, entering coordinates for the space jump. Din took the co-pilot's place, the child still securely in his lap. If Migs had to guess, it was for his comfort just as much as it was for the child's. He needed to reassure himself that the kid was safe and with him. Another question for the list: What was the child's name? He couldn't keep calling him child and kid! He mused as he got himself comfortable in a seat behind his husband.
Migs felt the pressure press him further into the seat as the ship jumped into hyperspace.
"Okay, we're set. I'll go back there to keep an eye on the prisoner. Don't want him making our lives harder." She said while standing up. "Give you two some space too."
"Whatever that's supposed to mean." He couldn't help but mutter, but she just waved him off and left, the door sliding shut behind her.
Migs could've sworn he heard Din try to stifle a yawn under the helmet. Rather poorly, in his humble opinion.
"You should get some sleep." Din turned his chair around to face him and cocked his head slightly to the side. Migs noticed the slight twitch of his hands around the kid still sleeping in his lap. "I'm serious. You haven't had time to rest since Morak, and maybe even before. I don't know that. The kid's safe. You really should tell me his name sometime soon, by the way. The coordinates are set. You don't have to do anything, and even if something happened, which it won't, you have me, and the hot-scary lady back there, to take care of that. You probably look like shit under the helmet, too. Go to sleep." He crossed his arms to make the point seem stronger.
Din could only nod, a little dumbfounded at being told what to do, if Migs had to guess. He mumbled something suspiciously sounding like "his name is Grogu" (That name weirdly suited the little guy if Migs was honest), then cradled the child closer to his chest and leaned back in his seat. It wasn't long before Migs could hear silent snores. Pleased with his work, he too leaned back in his chair. Not sleeping, just resting. It would be a long flight.
Just then, he heard fussing from the seat in the front. The kid must've woken up. Great , he just got Din to sleep. He couldn't let the kid wake him now.
---
Din awakened slowly, head spinning. He must've been more tired than he thought. He groggily took in his surroundings. The first thing that caught his attention was the lack of the familiar weight in his lap. That managed to shake him awake almost immediately. He jumped out of his seat and turned around. Ready to storm out and find whoever dared to take his child, again. All of the worst scenarios swirling around his head. They were tracked and attacked by another Imp. Moff Gideon somehow freed himself and took the child back. Mayfeld, tempted by the price on the kid's head, got him to let down his guard and took off with the child to collect the reward. Din would never forgive himself if he misjudged Migs' intentions, therefore putting the kid in more danger.
His horrific train of thoughts stopped the moment he took in the scene happening in one of the back chairs in the cockpit. Migs was sitting, holding Grogu under armpits, bouncing him lightly on his knees. Or rather, he was doing that before Din had jumped out of his seat, startling them both. Now Migs was looking at him with a concerned expression.
"You okay?" Din nodded slowly, trying to calm down his heart, beating furiously in his chest. He relaxed his stance.
Grogu cooed unhappily at being forgotten and waved his tiny hands up and down to try to get Mayfeld to bounce his knees again. He chuckled and complied.
"Quite the attention seeker, aren't you?" Migs cooed fondly.
In all honesty, it was a strange sight. Din would've never guessed that Migs was good with kids. Not after their first encounter. It was peculiar how the kid seemed to forget that Migs dropped him onto the floor. In Din's experience, Grogu is not very forgiving. He tried to choke Cara to death with his powers that one time Din grunted in strain during their arm-wrestling match.
It was somehow heart-warming too. Din felt bad for accusing Migs of stealing the child. He wouldn't do that. He was part of their clan now.
He sat back down. This time turned to Migs and Grogu.
"Feeling better?" Migs asked, not looking up from the child who was happily waving his hands around.
"A little. How long was I asleep?"
"Not even an hour. Dune came by once to check on us or something. Threatened to smash my face in if I hurt the green bean."
"Sounds about right." Din smiled under the helmet. He knew Cara had their backs, she had proven that on several occasions. But still, it was a nice reminder they weren't on their own.
"Right, I was about to ask. What happened to your ship? I don't think you'd choose imperial shuttle over the Crest just because."
That soured his mood a little. He knew the questions would come as well as the fact that Migs deserved to know the answers. He just hoped he would have a bit more time to prepare himself. Well, no time like the present.
"Destroyed by Moff Gideon's cruiser."
"Oh.- I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"No, no. It's okay, you can ask questions- more questions, if you want."
"Oh, oh. Okay, um- well, I'm not gonna lie, there is a growing list of questions I want to ask. I'm not going to dump it all on you at once, obviously. And you don't have to answer if you don't want to- I mean, of course, you don't have to. Just so you don't feel obliged or anything. I mean- I'm rambling now, aren't I?" Yes, but it was quite entertaining to see Migs Mayfeld struggle with his words a little. Especially when it apparently comes from his concern for Din's comfort. "I should- I'll just go straight for the questions." Din nodded.
"So, how you got the kid? I've seen your face, and unless you're hiding a pair of big, pointy ears, 'am pretty sure he's not yours."
"He was a bounty-" "A kid?! Sorry, continue?" Migs put one of his fists to his mouth, like he was physically stopping himself from interrupting. "They told me he was over fifty years old. Apparently, his species age differently. Took him there, but I couldn't just leave him to the Imps, so I took him back. The Armorer told me to find his kind or raise him as my foundling."
"The Armorer?"
"The leader of our Tribe."
"Okay, that leads me to another question. Are you in a cult? Am I in a cult now as well?"
"I- don't know." He said slowly. "I was taught that our way, the Way, is the right and only way to be a Mandalorian, but I've met others. They don't follow the Way, not the same one at least. I've learned there are other fractions. More than I thought." His voice was solemn. Was Migs gonna leave him now? Under the excuse that Din can be a Mandalorian with people seeing his face. He didn't know why, but that thought made him uneasy, nervous almost.
"So like, Bo-Katan, her friend, and the Grandpa Mando?" Din nodded, smiling at the nickname despite himself. "So you might be in a cult after all." Migs sniggered.
"Even if, not anymore. Most of the Tribe died when Moff Gideon took over Nevvaro in his search for Grogu." The child perked up at the mention of his name. Migs was too preoccupied with the conversation to play with him, so he just sat there leaning his back on Migs' stomach and playing with one of his sleeves. "I'm not sure who survived."
"Look at that, how nicely we're jumping from one topic to the next I want to ask about. What does the dick want from the kid anyway? Were they enemies in preschool or something? Wait! Now that I think about it, if Grogu is over fifty, he's basically older than both of us. That's some fucked up shit right there." Migs tried to lighten the mood. Din appreciated it. Really, but with this question, here came another complicated issue.
"Grogu is-well, not yet, but will- can be a Jedi." At that moment all of Migs' attention was on the child in his arms. He looked at him with something akin to awe and horror. "That's the reason why he wanted him. At least, I think. He never specified." He made a brief pause. "And there's another reason why I decided to stay low. Before he was taken, Grogu reached out to a Jedi, who's supposed to train him. If we stop moving for some time, it'll be easier for him to find us."
"Find us and? What then?" Migs demanded weakly, already suspecting the answer he would get.
"And take the child with him. For training." Din looked down.
Migs must've sensed his unease because he didn't say anything for a moment. Even though he looked like he wanted to protest. And didn't Din understand him perfectly well? They had just gotten Grogu back. He wasn't ready to give the little wopm rat to someone else yet. He wasn't sure he would ever be. He didn't want to think about that.
"For now, he's staying with us. I don't know when, or if, the Jedi will show up. So let's not worry about that now?" He said pleadingly. Migs looked conflicted for a moment but let it go eventually.
"So... The kid has powers?"
"Yes." Din nodded and started fumbling with his belt. He took out the round shift knob, the only thing he had left of his ship.
"Grogu." He caught the kid's attention and held out the metal ball in his open palm, "Take it." Grogu hesitated, looking at Migs and then Din. He made a questioning sound, and Din didn't have to look at his husband to know he was skeptical about the whole thing.
"C'mon, just like we practiced." Grogu, reassured by his father's words, reached his little, clawed hand towards the ball. He narrowed his eyes in concentration and made a soft grunting noise.
The ball slowly lifted from Din's hand, then quickly flew right into Grogu's. He caught the metal into both his arms and clutched it tightly, making a happy gurgle. He inspected it thoughtfully, as if checking if it changed somehow since he'd last seen it.
The next thing that happened knocked a little breath out of Din's chest. Grogu turned around and raised the ball to show it off to Migs proudly. Just like a kid showing their parent a new skill they learned. It was such a domestic sight. Domestic and normal. Din didn't know when was the last time he felt like this. To not have to worry about anything, for now. He could just enjoy a peaceful moment with his ad'ika and- and riduur now too. That's a new concept, but not an unwelcome one, though.
Migs recovered from the shook and fairly quickly, "Well done, buddy! Can't say I've ever seen something quite like that." He smiled. "You're something special, aren't you?" There was so much fondness in his voice. Suddenly, his head shot up, as if only now remembering Din was watching them. A slight blush colored his cheeks.
Yes, Din was sure now. He definitely made the right decision marrying that man.