Work Text:
The air still bites with the first days of Yavin spring, but by the time Luke’s made his way up to the landing pad, it’s almost hard to tell. It isn’t a particularly long climb, but it is steep in places, and he makes it briskly enough. Perhaps a little too briskly, if the faint ache in his hip has anything to say about it.
It does, unfortunately, especially with the last lingering ache of winter still in his bones.
This used to be easier, he thinks as he crests the top of the small rise and threads his way towards the edge of the tree line. It feels impossible to pin down when that had begun to change, though he supposes that’s the way of things.
But he’s been making his way up here for more than twenty years, now, and he’s not about to stop anytime soon.
When Luke emerges from beneath the trees, the Mudhorn is in the middle of the wide clearing of gravel and stone, right where it always lands. Its engines are still warm enough that Luke can feel them in the Force and on the air, however faintly.
“There you are,” Din says as he comes down the ramp, as if Luke hasn’t been half-watching the sky for him all damned day. His boots are loud above the returning chatter of afternoon birdsong, his armour bright beneath the blue of the sky.
He looks much the same as he did in the moment Luke first saw him so long ago.
Beskar sure ages well, Luke thinks wryly. The joke never gets less funny, no matter what Din says.
“You’re the one who’s two days late,” Luke grumps, striding his way towards the ship. If his robes kick a little more vigorously about his legs than they really need to as he moves, well, Din knows he’s not actually mad.
“You can blame it on the Senate,” Din tells him, exasperation evident in his voice even through his vocoder. Luke doesn’t blame him; the Senate loves to tie itself in knots, and everyone even peripherally involved right along with it.
“I’m telling Leia you said that,” Luke says as he finally comes to a stop before him. Probably his threat is spoiled just a little by the smile tugging at his mouth.
In the safety of the clearing, Din reaches up to pull his helmet off and tuck it beneath one arm, silver curls mussed about his ears and the lines of his face as familiar as Luke’s own. There’s a bigger, more public landing pad down by the lake; this one is just theirs, with no chance of prying eyes from the occasional visitor.
Din smiles a little, lines deepening around his eyes. Luke thinks he looks tired, and he feels tired, too, a faint murk of exhaustion layered beneath sinew and bone.
But then, politics will do that to you. Din’s been making noise about retiring, but nobody seems to be willing to take the darksaber off his hands.
“She said to tell you to get over your dramatics,” Din says evenly.
Luke snorts. He’s sure she did; that sounds like Leia.
In fact, she’d said the same thing right to his holographic face when they’d spoken that morning.
“And what do you say?” Luke asks pointedly, and in response, Din curls one gauntleted hand around his shoulder and leans in a little to press their foreheads together, and—
And Luke feels like he can finally, properly breathe out again. These separations of weeks and sometimes even months really never do get easier, for all that they’re plenty used to them by now.
“Good answer,” Luke says, pressing in just a little tighter against his husband, and Din is pressing in, too.
After a long moment, Luke pulls back, brushes his mouth against Din’s, and then gives him a moment to resettle his helmet in place over his features before they set off for the trees and the Temple down below.
“The kids will be glad to see you,” Luke says as they make their way beneath still-bare branches. Soon, they’ll be a riot of greens and new life. “Rey and Finn apparently have news to share with us at dinner. Do you know, they flat out refused to tell me what it is before you got here?”
“Did they finally get engaged?” Din asks, and Luke can hear the faint amusement in his voice.
“Act surprised,” Luke replies, and reaches out to thread gloved fingers through Din’s own.
Din meets him halfway, and they pick their way down the rise hand-in-hand.