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The doctor is insane, but stronger than Din had expected. Or at least her droids are.
The woman was sneaky and she programmed her droids to be too. While Din was bashing in the head of one with his spear, another had come up behind him and wrenched his arms back into a crushing grip. Din knew enough about injuries by now to know that his wrists were going to hurt like hell after this. Still, he struggled in the grip, throwing his head back into a headbutt on instinct. The droid, however, seemed unaffected— and what was worse was another had come up and put its cold hand against Din’s exposed neck, squeezing. Din gasped, struggling, and then there was another at his side and another at his back and he knew that he had lost.
Kriff.
The doctor let out a laugh of amusement as the droids dragged Din over to her table, slamming him down onto it. The table was cold and vaguely medical looking, and the straps were tough and tied too tightly around him. Din didn’t recognize this doctor, only knew her by her files that had informed him that she was, or had been, working with the Moff, that she was planning experiments for more children like Grogu, that she in particular had been very upset that Din had rescued the innocent green baby they were planning to torture just to look at his blood.
When Boba had gotten wind that she was camping out on a nearby planet, setting up a new lab, he had wasted little time informing Din, who had gotten the same pit in his stomach he got whenever he remembered Grogu tied down to the tiny table, when he pictured his big scared eyes calling out to Din to save him.
They had left the next morning.
Maybe they should have waited longer. Hashed out a plan, made sure everything was in order. But Din had been frantic and Boba had seemed eager to crush a few skulls as well, and they were both confident in their abilities. Plus, Fennec had offered to come along, not wanting to be stuck with playing court while they were gone, so they closed down the palace for the day and left, brimming with energy and sure that everything would be over in just a couple of hours.
After all, it was just one scientist. The reports said nothing about anyone else camping out with her, not even some guards. Din supposed they should have figured she would have some assistants. He just wasn’t expecting them to be a swarm of freakishly strong droids.
When Din was strapped down so tightly he could barely wiggle his fingers the doctor stepped next to him, peering down. She had a cool smile on her face. “Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Djarin,” she said, and Din hated that she knew his name without him giving it to her, hated that the Moff had given it out to so many so casually. “I don’t suppose you’ve decided to tell us where our little subject has been hidden?”
Din glared at her from behind his helmet and remained silent. She didn’t look surprised.
“That’s what I thought. Well, no point in wasting time with pleasantries. While your friends are busy dealing with my droids, this is a perfect time to test something out on you. Like father like son, hm?” She squinted down at his arm, taking in the armor and the thick flight suit, before shrugging and taking out a blade. Din tensed, heart in his throat, but all she did was cut away a square of his suit in a precise manner, leaving a patch of his arm exposed.
“You see,” she continued, waving at her droids as some kind of signal to start preparing something, “I have been developing a certain drug that is going to secure me a spot as the top scientist in the Empire.” She turned away from Din to slide some gloves on before taking a tray of a jar of liquid and a needle from a droid.
“The Empire’s dead,” Din said flatly, trying not to let his nerves seep into his voice. What was she going to inject him with? Would it make it feel like his blood was on fire? Would it paralyze him? Blind him? Make his skin more sensitive to pain? He wasn’t sure but he desperately wished for Boba and Fennec to hurry up already. How many droids could this doctor possibly have?
She let out a humorless laugh at Din’s statement, turning around to face him. The needle was big, and the liquid that was about to go into him was clear and sinister looking. Din swallowed hard. “The Empire could not be killed so easily. It is just waiting to rise again. And when it does, I will be leading all the top doctors and scientists in the galaxy.”
Din said nothing. She was clearly insane, or delusional, or both. She was alone in a cave of a lab with nothing but droids for company, hiding on a backwater planet while her boss was rotting away in prison, courtesy of Cara Dune. But he didn’t want to irritate her more. Already, her eyes were gleaming in a way that told him that her mind wasn’t all the way there. She held the needle up at him triumphantly.
“Doubt me all you want, Mr. Djarin. But you will not doubt me much after this.” And with that she plunged the needle into his arm.
Din tensed, forcing himself not to panic. He could handle pain, he reminded himself. He had had worse than whatever this drug was about to do to himself. He had broken bones, concussions, illnesses that knocked him off his feet for weeks. He was beroya, expected to tough out whatever the galaxy decided to throw his way. Behind his helmet he screwed his eyes shut, waiting.
But... no pain came. In fact, he felt nothing, aside from a soreness in his arm. He blinked his eyes open, confused.
The doctor looked pleased with herself as she stood over Din, handing the needle off to a droid. “You may be wondering, Mr. Djarin, what exactly I have just given to you. So I’ll tell you. It’s a truth serum.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Din burst out. There was no such thing. There couldn’t be such a thing.
“Many have said so,” the doctor said absently. “Many have told me not to try. But I have had plenty of time, recently, and no one around to tell me no. You almost did me a favor, sending Moff Gideon away. He only wanted things done his way.”
Din frowned and said nothing. He wondered where Boba and Fennec were, if they were okay, if they were looking for him or maybe even hoping he would be coming to back them up too. He wondered how he could get out of the ties he was in without injuring himself more, although he knew it would be nearly impossible. He couldn’t even move his wrist enough to activate his whistling birds.
“He didn’t do everything wrong,” the doctor reassured him. “In fact, I found his plans to experiment with the blood count of force sensitive beings to be quite groundbreaking.” Din scowled, his chest tightening in anger. “And the little green one you decided to rescue was the perfect subject. So,” she leaned over Din, a small smile on her feet. “I’ll ask you this once. Where is he?”
Kriff off, Din thought. I’ll never tell you, I’m never going to tell you, and once I get out of here I’m going to kill you, he tried to say, or at least something along those lines. But when he opened his mouth he felt like he couldn’t quite control what his was doing, and instead of threatening her he found himself saying, “He’s training to be a Jedi on Ahch-To.” Then he slammed his mouth shut, horrified at himself.
The doctor’s smile widened. “Fascinating,” she said, and Din felt sick. There’s no way he would have said that on his own. That hadn’t even been what he was trying to say. But it felt like something had overridden his brain and shoved the words out of his mouth and— and he had just told her where Grogu was, where his son was, and he had just put the Jedi’s whole temple in danger and—
“No need to panic, Mr. Djarin,” the doctor said, rapping her knuckles on Din’s chest plate as Din struggled to get his breathing under control. “Now, why don’t you tell me what Jedi your son is training under?” She asked, and Din felt himself opening his mouth to reply when the doctor’s eyes suddenly widened and the next moment she slumped towards onto him with a hole in her forehead.
Din breathed out a sigh of relief as Fennec stepped out of the shadows, jogging over to him. She let out a low whistle. “Droids got you good, didn’t they?” She shoved the doctor to the floor and began working on the straps, and Boba appeared shortly after, looking a little singed but unharmed. Din laid there, biting his lip because even at Fennec’s rhetorical question he had felt the overwhelming urge to respond and he was afraid of what he would say in front of them.
It wasn’t that he kept secrets from them. Well, not really.
It was more that there were things he didn’t want them to know. Mainly regarding Boba. And how Din felt about him.
It had happened slowly and unexpectedly. Din had followed the two of them back to Tatooine because they had invited him and he liked them both. Fennec had a great sense of humor and admirable skills in battle. Boba was straight forward yet gentle, strong yet honorable. A leader, and Din needed to be lead after being banged around by the dark troopers and loosing his son.
He had fallen into a comfortable rhythm with the two of them. He did bounties for Boba and went on jobs with Fennec. He stood behind Boba’s throne whenever Boba wanted to intimidate someone. They patched each other up after a fight and told stories to each other and, eventually, Din took off his helmet and talked about his doubts and feelings about his creed.
He had drinks with the two of them or, as of recently, just Boba, and played cards with them, although he always lost because he couldn’t control his face. Peli would stop by when she could and clear Boba and Fennec out. Once she had even won herself a new speeder, which she promptly informed Din that he was not allowed to borrow under any circumstances ever.
He sparred with them. Mostly with Boba, since Fennec was more of a long distance fighter. They spent many hours grappling with each other, trying to pin the other down.
Boba was strong. Din respected that. He... liked that. He was attracted to that.
Just like he was attracted to Boba’s sense of humor. His dry laughs and crooked smiles. And Boba’s gentle mannerisms. They way his hands steadily wrapped one of Din’s cuts because he knew Din didn’t like medical droids, the way he spread bacta almost caringly over a bruise he accidentally gave Din during a spar. He also liked Boba’s steadiness. His principles. His morals. His outlook on life. The way he sat in his throne, the way he sighed at the end of a long day, the way he rolled his eyes when Din or Fennec made a bad joke, the way he looked in his robes after he took his armor off for the night.
Din liked almost everything about Boba. He might even love Boba. Which, of course, was a secret he was going to take to his grave.
Which is why he kept his mouth shut as the two of them worked at the straps, finally freeing him from the table. As Fennec went to deal with the rest of the droids, Boba helped him up, his hands warm and steady. “You all right?”
Yes, Din thought. “No,” he said. Boba gave a inquisitive grunt. Dank farrik. “Um,” Din said. “She.... put something in me. A drug. She said it was a truth serum.”
“There’s no such thing,” Boba scoffed. Din wished he could see under his helmet to know what kind of expression he was making.
“I thought so too,” he admitted. “But...” he looked down at his wrists. They were swollen and already bruising. “She asked me where Grogu was. And I told her.”
Boba let out a swear and Din shrank under his gaze. “Alright,” Boba muttered. “Alright. Well, she’s dead now. And all of her droids are about to be nothing but scrap metal. We’ll burn this place down when we leave, leave nothing behind. She didn’t have time to tell anyone else about the location, did she?” Din shook his head and Boba nodded. “Okay. Then we should be safe. Grogu will be okay.”
Din nodded, feeling a wave of relief go over him. Boba always knew how to make him feel better, it seemed.
“Best get going,” Boba said. “You injured at all?”
No, Din thought. “Yes,” he said.
Boba’s head tilted in a way that showed his shock, because Din never said yes to be injured even when he was practically bleeding out. Had actually denied being injured before practically bleeding out. Boba had not been happy. Din swallowed uncomfortably. “Where?” Boba asked, looking him over.
“My wrists,” Din said before he could stop himself. “My neck is sore too. Probably bruised. Really, my whole body is sore,” he added, and he closed his eyes, cursing himself and the kriffing truth serum. Boba let out a thoughtful hum.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
Boba nodded and helped Din up by his elbow. Around the lab, droids laid in piles, short circuiting. Din focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on following Boba’s steady figure in front of him. He heard Fennec’s light steps from behind him and soon she was joining them, gun slung casually over her shoulder. “Everything all set?”
“It will be,” Din said, unable to stop himself from replying.
“Yeah, once we burn this place to the ground,” Boba muttered, pushing the door open to the outside. “They gave him a truth serum.”
“Very funny,” Fennec said, not sounding amused at all.
“It’s true. At least I think it is.” Boba punched the code in to open his ship and marched inside. Fennec shot Din a curious look and followed. “Better safe than sorry, though. I don’t want anything like that to spread around this galaxy,” Boba announced before aiming his guns at the lab and firing at it.
Din and Fennec watched as Boba reduced the lab to rubble and then some. When he was done they stood there in silence for a minute. Then Fennec turned to Din.
“Do you cheat when we play sabacc?”
“Only once,” Din said, and he scowled at her. “That’s not fair.”
“So you admit it!” She crowed. “I knew that one win was suspicious.
“Peli told me to do it,” Din said petulantly, and Fennec smirked before frowning.
“Oh,” she said.
“Yeah,” Boba grunted.
“So.... it worked. You have to tell us the truth?”
“Yes.”
Din fidgeted as they both seemed to size him up. Boba broke the silence first. “Fennec, set course for home. Din, come with me. We’re taking care of those wrists.”
“Yes sir,” Fennec said dryly, but Din knew she was surprised since Boba was very, very touchy about people flying his ship. Still, she said nothing more as she climbed up to the pilots seat. Boba took Din’s elbow again, even though he really didn’t need to, since Din knew where to go. But it was nice and Din liked when Boba touched him so he said nothing as he was guided towards Boba’s bunk and then pushed down onto the bed. Boba often let Din lick his wounds here after missions since he knew that Din didn’t like feeling exposed without his armor on. Even if it was only Fennec in the ship with them, Din still preferred his privacy.
Din remained silent as Boba removed his own helmet before busying himself with getting bacta and bandages and temporary splints. “Wrists up,” he ordered when he came back over and Din obeyed. Boba placed the medical supplies down next to Din and began to remove his vembraces. Din took steady breaths, trying not to focus on the pain spreading up and down his arm now that they had stopped moving and sat down. It could be worse, he knew that, but it still hurt. The droid had been anything but gentle when he grabbed Din and the straps had only worsened it. His throat was sore, worse than he originally thought. He could still feel the steel pressure of the droid’s fingers pressing down. Another bruise, no doubt, but nothing serious.
Boba let out a hiss as he peeled Din’s gloves back with difficulty, scowling as Din’s bruised and swollen wrists came into view.
“Fennec shouldn’t have killed her so fast,” he muttered, and Din actually blushed at that.
It’s fine, he meant to say, but when he opened his mouth to reassure Boba what came out was: “They really hurt.”
Boba stared at him. Din stared back. “I didn’t mean to say that,” he admitted after a moment, and now he was blushing for an a entirely different reason. Well. At least he could tell the truth about not wanting to tell the truth. He hoped the drug wore off soon. Now, preferably.
Boba gave him a small smile and put his attention back on his wrists. “It’s weird to hear you say things like that,” he admitted as he began to carefully smear bacta onto them. “Maybe I should have kept some of that truth serum so you’ll keep actually telling home when you’re injured in the future.” Din knew he was joking but he still frowned at that behind his helmet. If Boba did that Din would be spending half his awake time in the infirmary.
Boba inspected Din’s wrists carefully, frowning in concentration before nodding to himself. “Not broken. Left is worse than the right, so we’ll put a brace on it for now. Right should only need a bandage.”
Din could do it himself. He had patched himself up in far worse conditions before. Still, he didn’t protest as Boba carefully placed his left hand in a brace, securing it firmly before he wrapped Din’s right wrist in a tight bandage. Already they were feeling better— Din wasn’t used to having so much bacta on hand, but Boba never seemed short on it. Din carefully flexed his fingers. “Thank you.”
“You said your neck was bruised too, right?”
It’s nothing, Din wanted to say. “Yes,” he muttered instead, scowling. Boba looked too pleased with himself to not know what Din probably wanted to say. Still, he seemed to take some pity on him and he placed some more bacta next to Din.
“I understand if you want to be alone,” he said, and he offered Din a crooked smile. “As long as you’re gentle you should be able to take your bucket off and take care of that neck.” He turned towards the door, placing a hand on the handle. “I’m going to go up with Fennec and make sure she didn’t mess with my seat settings too much.” An excuse, for Din to have some privacy. They both knew Fennec had already adjusted the seat to her liking. “Alright?”
“No,” Din said, even as he was reaching for the bacta himself. Boba froze in the middle of opening the door. Din blinked. “I-I meant no. No, I mean— I wanted to say— ugh. Dank farrik.”
Boba chuckled, and Din flushed, fumbling with the bacta. In two seconds Boba was standing over him again, easing it from Din’s hands. “Oh no you don’t.” Din let out a huff of annoyance. “Alright. Care to explain? Do you not think you can do it yourself?”
“No, it’s not that it’s—“ Din tried to get himself to stop talking. It didn’t work. “I-I want you to take care of me,” he blurted out.
Manda, strike him down.
Din very pointedly did not look at Boba, who was very pointedly looking right at Din.
“You want me to take care of you,” Boba repeated slowly.
“Yes,” Din mumbled. He fidgeted with his bandage, glaring at the floor. He heard Boba sigh.
“Din,” he said.
“Hm.”
“Do you mean that?”
Din wanted to throttle him. And the doctor. But the doctor was probably nothing more than a smear of red in the rubble of her of right now after the amount of shots Boba had fired at her lab. But Boba was alive. And here. Why was Boba torturing him?
He clenched his teeth together. “Yes,” he gritted out.
Boba sighed again, this time less exasperated sounding and more affectionate. “Din. Look at me?” Din scowled and resisted the urge to immediately follow what Boba said. That wasn’t from the truth serum— he just seemed to naturally want to follow his orders. Even when they weren’t exactly orders. After a few beats he turned his head up to look at Boba.
He was smiling.
“Will you—“ he made a gesture towards Din’s helmet. “It will make this easier.”
Din balked, even as his hands went to his helmet. “You don’t actually have to take care of me, you know. I— just because I want it doesn’t mean you’re obligated to.” His wrists twinged as he tugged his helmet off, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting. Even though Boba typically kept his bunk’s lights dim, Din’s eyes weren’t used to the world outside of his t-visor. He placed his helmet down next to him.
Boba let out a hum as he sat next to Din, close enough that their knees touched. This wasn’t the first time that they’ve sat this close, but Din still found himself blushing. He turned his head away.
Boba tutted as he reached for the bacta and bandages. “You’ll have to look this way if I’m going to take care of tour neck.” Din did so with reluctance and Boba frowned. “Cape off too,” he said, and Din grumbled but obliged, tugging at the fastening before getting it undone. It joined his helmet on the other side of him.
Boba was silent as he gently tilted Din’s neck up, letting out a low whistle. “Quite a bruise you got there. Getting naughty with the droids?” Din let out a choked laugh, surprised.
“No,” Din breathed out. “I would never.” He trained his eyes on the ceiling as he felt Boba’s fingers swiping over his neck, smearing the bacta on it. His heart pounded in his ears.
“Not into droids that way, hm?”
Din knew Boba was trying to lighten the mood, but he wished he could do it without asking questions. “No. Did you think I was?”
Boba’s thumb had been massaging one part of Din’s neck almost absentmindedly. He stopped now as he seemed to think about how to answer. Din wished he would keep going, even though he knew that the bacta had long been absorbed into his skin.
“You can be hard to read sometimes,” Boba settled on finally, and Din must of made a face because he let out a breathy laugh. “Even with your bucket off.” That was a first. The only thing Din had heard since he started taking his helmet off was how easy he was to read. Schooling his facial expressions wasn’t something he had had to worry about in the past.
Boba’s thumb resumed its rubbing. Din let out a shudder of contentment without meaning to, his eyes closing. He could feel Boba staring.
“Din.”
“Hm.”
“Tell me. Why did you want me to take care of you?”
Din tensed, his throat tightening. Boba removed his hand, pretending to sort out which bandage he was going to use. What Din wanted to say was: You’re being a real asshole for asking me these questions when you know I have to respond. Or maybe: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never said that. Please go up and sit with Fennec and leave me here to wallow in my embarrassment. Or perhaps just a good old fashioned: Kriff off. Just to get his point about Boba being an asshole across.
“It’s because...” Din closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He could feel words trying to burst out of him, very embarrassing words that would probably earn him a pitying look from Boba followed by an eviction notice from his cozy little room in the palace. He tried to have some semblance of control over what was about to pour out of his mouth. “It’s because I like you,” he choked out.
His face burned.
And—oh? Looks like he wasn’t done. “Maybe I love you? I’m not sure yet. But I definitely want to be around you. And I like it when you take care of me. It-it feels nice. I like being taken care of.”
The last part came out a little muffled because Din was burying his face in his hands and hoping his embarrassment would just kill him right know. Grogu would be fine without him, right? He had Luke. Boba could just go up to Fennec and tell her Din’s injuries were worse than they thought and now they had a body to toss out the airlock. Then they could go back to Tatooine and never speak of Din again. Yes, that seemed like the ideal outcome right now.
This was by far the worst thing to have ever happened to him. And yes, he was including getting his head pounded in by the dark troopers.
Boba’s hands brushed against his. “Din,” he said, and he sounded like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Din let Boba tug his hands away although he kept his eyes trained on the floor. He heard Boba open his mouth then close it then open it again. “Let me... get these bandages on.”
They were both silent as Boba carefully wrapped Din’s neck up, his hands lingering. When he was done Din went back to staring at the floor.
When he was done Din expected him to tell Din it was nice knowing him but maybe he should pack his things up when they got back to Tatooine and never come back. Din wouldn’t blame him. It must be incredibly uncomfortable knowing your... body guard? co-worker? personal bounty hunter? Din wasn’t sure what his official title was. But either way, knowing someone who you worked with closely on a daily basis possibly loved would be uncomfortable for anyone.
He didn’t leave though. He stayed on the bed, looking at Din. Din also stayed on the bed and admired the paneling on the floor of the ship which was a very nice shade of gray.
“Did you mean—“ Boba started and Din held up a hand, stopping him.
“Please don’t ask me if I meant what I just said. We both know the answer.”
Boba took the hand that Din had held up and kissed it.
Din nearly fainted.
“W-what are you—?”
“If you stopped staring at my ship and started staring at me, Din’inka, I think you would see that I’m not as horrified by your confession as you seem to think I would be,” Boba murmured against his palm. Din’s face felt like it was on fire.
“But,” Din croaked out. “You— You’re not—?” Of course the kriffing serum was no help when he was trying to ask someone else a question. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Boba’s lips on his hand.
“Din. In case you haven’t noticed, which it seems like you haven’t, I very much like you back,” Boba said, finally pulling Din’s hand away from his mouth and instead threading their fingers together. “I mean, I’ve been giving you lots of gifts.”
“I thought you gave all your workers new blasters,” Din said faintly.
“And the codes to my room.”
“Fennec has those too.”
“I’ve cooked dinner for you. Which we ate alone. With candlelight. And a rooftop view of Tatooine.”
“I....”
“Am an idiot,” Boba finished flatly.
Yup, Din thought, that about summed it up.
“Now,” Boba said with a shit eating grin while squeezing his hand, “If you don’t mind I’m going to have some fun while this serum still lasts.”
“Please don’t,” Din said, but he could tell Boba wasn’t being too serious, and he couldn’t help the smile that played on his own lips.
“Question number one,” Boba said, ignoring him. “Can I kiss you right now?”
“Oh,” Din breathed out as Boba leaned towards him, pressing their foreheads together. “Yes.”
Boba grinned against his lips, closing his eyes. “Enjoy the kiss while it lasts, Din’inka. Because after this I’m going to have you list all of your kinks for me.”
“Boba, that’s not funny. Boba, no, I’m seri—“
Boba’s lips felt very nice against his. Din closed his eyes and melted into this kiss and resolved to punch Boba after this to keep him from asking anymore questions. Or maybe he could just keep kissing him.
Boba squeezed his thigh, hard, and Din let out a groan into the kiss.
Yes, he thought, that seemed like a better way to keep Boba’s big, fat mouth busy. He supposed he could put up with kissing Boba until the serum wore off.
Maybe the serum wasn’t the worst thing to have happened to him. As long as Boba didn’t ask any more questions. And as long as he stayed far, far away from Fennec.
Yeah, Din thought as Boba tugged him down onto the bed, knocking Din’s helmet off with a clang, this could be much, much worse.