Chapter Text
It’s late at night when Luke finds Din outside the temple.
It’s not uncommon for Din to spend his time outside with Grogu. Usually, once Grogu’s Force lessons for the day are done, Grogu toddles over to his father—he watches every single one of them quietly, without interrupting, and Luke thinks that maybe he appreciates Din’s presence a bit too much—and they either go for a walk, spend some time by the lake in the woods, or Grogu shows Din what he learned for the day.
Luke enjoys watching the father-son duo have fun, Din’s laugh quiet and short through the modulators but no less beautiful, Grogu projecting so many positive feelings through the Force that Luke feels like he’s floating. He rarely interrupts except during dinner time, and afterwards, lets them go back to their rooms, not only to give Grogu some time alone with his father, but also to give Din the privacy so he can remove his helmet without worrying about Luke.
What is less common is Luke finding them outside, Grogu asleep in Din’s arms, late at night. And every single time, Luke knows the reason why.
A heaviness settles on him as he makes his way to Din. Under the stars, Din’s armor shines bright, legs extended in front of him, helmet tilted down. Grogu’s big ears stick out from Din’s arms, the kid’s aura faint in the Force as he sleeps, and Luke can’t help a small smile. Silently, he stops next to Din and sits down, cross-legged, eyes carefully searching Din’s helmet. A part of him wishes he could just see Din’s face to read it.
Another part doesn’t need it to know Din feels sorrow. His shoulders are curled in, chin ducked, and Luke notices the slight tremble in his hands. Luke curls his own hands over his lap so he doesn’t impulsively reach out to hold Din’s and gently adjusts the scarf around his neck.
“You’re leaving,” he says simply, eyes turned to the sky as well. Din doesn’t say anything. “Another bounty?” Luke glances at him when a wave of sadness hits him in the Force. Din tilts his head away.
“No.”
Luke arches a brow, curious. He doesn’t remember the last time Din left the moon without an explicit bounty to hunt. Even then, Luke repeated several times that Din didn’t need to bring credits—with his reputation in the New Republic and his sister’s position, Luke has all he needs here. Besides, three mouths aren’t a lot to feed, even with Grogu’s insane appetite.
“Is there something wrong?” Luke asks this time, shoulders tenser. It’s impossible to really read Din, especially when he’s looking away and closed off, but he does sense some fear. Luke frowns. “Is it something I can help with? If you need a hand—”
“No, Luke.” Luke stops when he hears his name, and a shiver runs down his spine. Din tilts his helmet to look at the sky. “I already overstayed my welcome. I’ll be off world for a few cycles.”
Luke stares at him for a few seconds, eyes blank, brows raised. He rubs his neck when he feels a shooting pain but instead of trying to figure out what it is, he focuses back on Din. A soft laugh escapes his lips.
“Din, you’re always welcome here.” He hesitates for a moment, but then scoots closer to the Mandalorian, so close that an inch more and their shoulders will be brushing each other. Luke stops, heart stuttering in his chest, and forces himself to focus back on Din. “You don’t have to leave if that’s the only reason. You know Grogu loves having you here.” Luke stops, nibbling on his lower lip. “We love having you here,” he whispers then, voice quieter.
Din’s visor snaps to him. Luke feels a wave of confusion in the Force, and his neck aches again. “But I’m not Force sensitive,” Din says, and even through the modulator Luke can feel the shakiness in his voice. “I don’t… I can’t do what you two can. I can’t even understand…” His eyes fall onto Grogu, the pain in Luke’s neck a constant now. He rubs it, frowning, and desperately tries to push it back to focus on Din. “You understand Grogu. You can teach him. That’s all he needs.” Din stops, arms tighter around Grogu now as if he’s trying to hold onto the kid despite his words. All Luke can do is stare at him for a few seconds.
Then, gently, he drops a hand on Din’s. “That’s not true.” His voice is firm, and when Din seems like he’s going to object, he quickly continues. “Din, remember when I first asked you to join us?” He tilts his head, trying to find Din’s eyes through the visor, and offers him a soft smile. “I told you it would help Grogu’s teaching. Which is true. But that wasn’t the only reason.”
“Luke…” Din murmurs, hand shaky under Luke’s. Luke wraps his fingers around Din’s palm.
“I called you because every single day, I felt this wave of sadness in the Force from Grogu. He kept staring at the sky, waiting for you to come, asking me about you every day. Even when I could understand him, he wanted you.” Luke’s eyes fall onto Grogu, running a gentle finger on the kid’s ear. Grogu stirs, but he doesn’t wake up. “It’s the same thing whenever you go off world. He misses you terribly. And I…” With a deep breath, Luke lifts his eyes, finding Din’s visor again. “It’s easy to feel like you’re not enough when you don’t feel his thoughts. But I do and I’m telling you. Grogu loves you. You’re his hero. His clan.” Luke runs a finger around Grogu’s little neck, tugging at the necklace. The mudhorn signet shines under the stars. “And that’s more than enough for Grogu.”
For a few moments, Luke doesn’t hear Din breathe at all. He lifts his eyes, only to find Din’s visor tilted, looking at Grogu’s little face. Luke feels a shooting pain on his neck again, but then it quickly soothes and warmth spreads through him. He can almost tell that Din is smiling under his helmet.
“Thank you,” he whispers, voice choked with tears even through the modulator. Luke offers him a smile.
“Does that mean you’re staying?”
Din lifts his visor. “Yeah.” And if Luke has to be honest, it isn’t only for Grogu that he’s happy.
In fact, he’s so excited that Din is staying that only in the morning, when he discards his clothes and steps into the fresher, that he notices a change in his appearance.
The sight in front of him is familiar. Red, jagged handwriting covering his chest and arms, most of the words written over each other so much so that they’re unintelligible, resembling scar tissue. His soulmate’s biggest fears and worries and frustrations and hate about himself, documented over Luke’s body. Over time, the words built up, so much so that there’s very little skin left for Luke to see, going all the way up to his neck and down to his ankles.
For the longest time, Luke was just glad that he didn’t have any on his face. A scarf was enough to cover the writings on his neck.
At least, it used to be enough. Now, staring at the mirror, all Luke sees on his neck is a golden sheen, the bright red writing nowhere to be seen. I’M NOT ENOUGH FOR MY FAMILY. Luke remembers tracing those words so often that they were branded in his mind.
He steps forward, closer to the mirror, to see what replaced it. With the golden writing it’s harder to discern—as is the point. When your soulmate starts to love themselves, the words turn golden, almost translucent, so it’s barely noticeable. Their best thoughts aren’t advertised like their fears but are only meant for the eyes of the soulmate.
Luke traces his finger over the golden writing. My family loves me, it writes, right over his clavicle, reaching the underside of his ear. Blinking Luke stares at the words, a soft smile on his lips.
“Well,” he murmurs, keeping his hand on the writing. “I’m happy for you, soulmate.”
He doesn’t think more about it as he steps into the fresher.