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“This is awful.”
“It’s wonderful.”
“They look ridiculous.”
“Well, I think they look adorable.”
Looking at Boba in the mirror behind him, Din scowls. That’s adorable, too. The ears that he had just been poking at twitch. “Well,” he says dryly, “I’m glad someone’s enjoying this.”
Boba holds up his hands in a placating position, trying to tone down his amusement. “Listen. Why not just enjoy it? Skywalker said it would only last till the end of the day. Then poof. You’re human again.”
Din’s tail-- and Boba has to bite back another grin-- swishes angrily. He pushes past Boba and out of the bathroom, his expression sour. Boba trails after him, snickering. Din waking up to cat ears and a tail was the highlight of his months. Yes, Din had a bit of a mental breakdown, and Fennec was sent to usher the kid to Skywalker for an explanation while Boba was tasked with calming him down, but once Fennec called to explain that apparently Grogu had spotted a loth cat the week before and decided that his father would look pretty good with some of the cat’s features and Skywalker insisted it was not permanent, Din had calmed down a bit.
It was a treat, really, for Boba. He had long been pining after the man, and this was the perfect excuse to pour praise onto him without Din getting suspicious. Plus, this was the most Boba had seen the other man without his helmet on, and he was thoroughly enjoying the range of expressions his face was capable of making. Yes, Din would take his helmet off now for meals or the occasional drink, but he mostly hid behind it during the day. Then again, he usually spent his day out in the throne room. Today, he’s opted to hide in Boba’s quarters instead. Boba tries not to feel giddy at that.
“He should have cursed you instead, since you’re so calm about it.” Din flops down onto the bed and nuzzles into Boba’s pillow without seeming to notice he’s doing so. But Boba has noticed that, too. Din’s been much more…cuddly since this morning. Boba gingerly sits next to him. He wants very badly to run his fingers through Din’s hair and scratch at those ears, but he refrains. Him and Din are friends. Close friends. But not that close. Not yet.
“Not ever,” Fennec had snarked one night over drinks, and Boba spent the rest of the night ignoring her.
“S’not a curse,” Boba says, and he settles for placing a hand on Din’s shoulder. Din turns his head towards Boba and reluctantly cracks one eye open. “Just your kid trying something new. Means he’s growing more powerful.”
Din didn’t look like he could decide if that was a good or a bad thing. Boba decides to change the subject. “Besides, this is as good an excuse as any for you to rest-- don’t think I didn’t notice how you’ve been favoring your right leg ever since that run-in with those Rodians.”
“Hn.”
Boba smirks at Din’s lack of reply. He doesn’t push it, though. Din is notoriously prickly about admitting to being injured, and Boba doesn’t want to further sour his mood. Instead he squeezes his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.” They had been too distracted this morning to eat a proper meal, and now Boba could do for something nice and hot in his stomach. He’s sure Din could, too. Boba may not know much about magical force transformations, but he has no doubt it’s taken a lot out of the other.
Din lets out a grumble but reluctantly peels himself off of Boba’s pillow. His tail twitches. “I can’t go downstairs like this.”
“I’ll clear everyone out.” Din frowns, uncertain, and Boba has to physically restrain himself from petting his head. It seems like the younger man never learned how to properly brush his hair, and the combination of his sleep ruffled curls and his fluffy ears is making Boba go insane. He clears his throat and turns away. “It’s not just for you. I’m hungry too. Have I ever made you spiced caf before?”
It’s meant as a distraction and it works. Din perks up-- literally. Out of the corner of Boba’s eye, he can see Din’s ears standing up straight and his tail swishing in interest. “You know how to make spiced caf?”
Boba has never made spiced caf before in his life. But he has vague memories of his father making it, and he’s asked the palace chef to pick him up the ingredients, so now is as good a time as ever to try it out. He lets out a non-committal hum that he hopes sounds mysterious and sexy and not like he’s trying to get out of saying that he’s grossly overexaggerating his ability to make it. He begins to pull out some clothes. “We should probably get changed.”
They’re both still in their sleeping clothes-- another thing that makes Boba unreasonably happy. The issue is that Din has been forced to wear his pants slung low on his hips so his tail can move around. This gives Boba a peek at Din’s belly and he does not want anyone else to see that ever. He picks up a pair of pants from his dresser and rips a hole in the back. “Here.” He tosses them in Din’s general direction, then a shirt a moment later. They could just as easily go to Din’s room to get him clothes. Boba ignores this fact.
“You ripped your pants?”
“They’re for your tail,” Boba says, rolling his eyes. He’s rich enough now to replace them, anyways. Not that he wouldn’t have done that if he was dirt poor, either. He picks out his own pants and a loose shirt. There’s no need to dress up today. He hears Din let out something between a huff and a sigh. He doesn’t say anything else.
They both change in silence, Boba facing away to give Din some privacy. Eventually Din daintily clears his throat to let Boba know he’s finished. Boba turns around and has to take approximately five deep breaths before he trusts himself enough to speak. “You look…good.” That’s his way of saying he’s trying very, very hard not to jump Din’s bones. He’s never worn Boba’s clothes before. He’s swimming in them, self consciously tugging on the sleeves which are just short enough to show his pale wrists. At Boba’s compliment, he gives him a wry smile.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” For a moment they stay like that, Boba staring at Din, Din staring back at Boba. Then Boba sees Din’s ears start to flatten and he realizes he’s making Din nervous. He quickly turns towards the door. “Let’s eat.”
True to his word, Boba had sent out the message to clear the halls and the kitchen. He tasks Din with egg duty, but after a full two minutes of Din staring between the eggs and the pan, he tells him to sit down instead as he prepares their food. “Sorry,” Din says sheepishly as he sits, his tail curling self-consciously around his leg. “I’m mostly used to rations.”
Boba says nothing, but he adds an extra egg to Din’s plate. How a man can go that long living on nothing but bland rations is beyond him. When Boba eventually places the caf down in front of him too, Din takes a sip and his ears immediately flatten back against his head. “Oh,” he says, once he’s managed to swallow it. “It’s… good.” Boba would be more dismayed if it weren’t for the fact that he’s a little bit in love with the fact that Din can’t lie for his life, and yet he still made an attempt to make Boba feel better.
“Yeah?” Boba takes a cautious sip of his and spits it out as soon as it hits his tongue. “Kriff, that’s disgusting.” And again, Boba can’t bring himself to be too upset about it because Din laughs and ducks his head adorably, placing his own caf down.
“How about we try making it together, next time?” He asks, and Boba grins.
“Yeah,” he manages to get out as casually as he can. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
The rest of the breakfast is much better, and afterwards Boba pulls out some datapads and sits back to get some work done. He may not be out in the courtroom today, but that doesn’t mean his duties have ended. He has dozens of trade offers, threats, tips, bribes, and proposals to look through. But he’s only managed to read through one of these before he hears a clatter, startling him.
“Din?”
Din looks sheepishly at him from where he’s standing. When did he get up from the table? “Sorry.”
“Everything alright?”
“Yes. I… Yes. Go back to work.”
Boba frowns and lowers his eyes, but watches Din out of the corner of them. He sees Din waiting for him to be distracted before he starts pacing. Ah. He must have accidentally hit a plate with his tail, Boba thinks in amusement as he watches Din’s tail swish behind him. It’s a beautiful tail, really. Long haired and fluffy and oh so soft looking. It looks irritated, though. As does the rest of him, Boba realizes, watching as Din lets out a frustrated huff and continues to pace. His tail hits another plate, knocking it off the table with a crash. This time it’s Din who jumps, the hair on his ears and tail standing on end. Boba covers his laugh with a cough.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Boba asks, lowering his datapad slowly and watching as Din quickly picks up the plate.
“I’m fine,” Din insists, his face scrunching up into a scowl before he takes a moment to calm himself. “I’m just… restless. I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”
Boba turns off his datapad and sets it down. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he says outloud. In his mind he thinks: Oh sweet Manda , Din has the zoomies. Boba isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.
“Please, go back to work,” Din says, clearly embarrassed.
Boba hums and pretends to pick up the pad again. Din stands ramrod straight for a moment, his ears twitching. Then he begins to prowl again. This time, before his tail can send Boba’s mug crashing, Boba jumps up in time, grabbing it from the table. “Din.”
“What--? Oh.” His cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink when he sees the rescued mug in Boba’s hands. “I’m just-- I’ll just go back to the bedroom.”
“Nonsense.” Boba places the mug down. “I think I know what you need.”
Din’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. His tail continues to sway in large arches behind his back. He looks like he wants to crawl out of his own skin. “What I need?”
Boba nods, beginning to smile. “I’m not in the mood for work right now, anyways.” He purposefully places out of mind the annoyance Fennec will feel later today when she comes back to find that Boba has hardly gotten anything done. He’ll deal with that when he has to. “What do you say we go and have a little spar?”
Din looks like Boba just handed him a perfectly wrapped gift on Life Day. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Will you… can you make sure no one will be there?” Din asks, hesitant.
Boba places a hand on Din’s shoulder again. He’s probably managed to touch the other more today than he has in the entire time he’s known him. And Din doesn’t seem to mind it, either. “I’ll make sure it’s empty,” he promises. “Let’s clean up the kitchen first, yeah?”
With the promise of a spar in mind, Din cleans up fast, although he shies away from the water to wash the dishes, grumbling something about how he would rather wipe down the table. Boba snorts at that but doesn’t push. When they’re done Boba holds gestures towards the door. “Shall we?”
Din smiles at him and Boba’s heart tries to beat his chest open. “Ready.”
----
The sparring ring is empty, but Din still stalks around the perimeter first before relaxing. Or relaxing as much as he can. He still seems skittish as he walks back to face Boba. “Rules?”
Boba pretends to think as his eyes roam the room. But he already knows what he wants. “No weapons. Hand to hand. First to yield wins.”
Din nods, accepting the terms. Boba has to hide a grin as they head to the center of the ring. On the one hand, he chose no weapons because he wasn’t sure what would happen to Din if he nicked one of his new appendages. On the other hand, he chose no weapons because he desperately wanted an excuse to touch Din’s ears. If he can touch one of them and they’re as soft as they look, Boba will die a happy man.
Din crouches in his usual ready position, although his twitching ears and raised tail take away some of his usual seriousness. Boba crouches as well, grinning. Din wrinkles his nose back at him. “Ready?”
Din nods, and then they’re off.
Boba is careful to avoid Din’s still recovering leg, but aside from that, he’s ruthless.
Din is too.
Despite his soft appearance, his big sad eyes, his shy smiles, his rumpled hair-- Din was a fighter. A good one. Boba would be a fool to forget that.
Din’s taller, but swifter. Boba may be smaller, but he has weight and strength that Din lacks. They’re normally a good match for one another, and this spar starts out the same-- Boba swinging, looking to get Din in a grapple, Din dancing out of the way and trying to throw Boba off balance. Din’s ears are pressed flat against his head, and Boba nearly falls for one of Din’s leg sweeps when he thinks, again, about how badly he wants to feel that tail brush up against him, to run a hand against those expressive ears. But he catches himself, and then it’s Din who’s caught off balance when Boba does go for it, snatching Din’s tail and tugging, hard , when Din’s failed move causes him to leave his back to Boba for a moment.
If he was human again, it would have been fine. Boba wouldn’t have had enough time to have tried to grab him, to tackle him or kick him down. But he’s not human, and his tail was within reach of Boba even as Din was already turning back, teeth bared, ready to continue the fight.
It was too easy. Boba almost feels bad. But the tail is as soft as he imagined, and then some-- the fight isn’t over yet, and Boba catches himself before he floats away.
Din lets out a hiss, his eyes wide, his teeth bared. Boba doesn’t remember them being as pointy before-- another gift from his son, perhaps. But Din is thrown off, and he stumbles, and Boba catches him around the middle with his arms and then his knee. Din doubles over, and Boba flips him cleanly until Din lands flat on his back on the ground, his eyes still wide in disbelief. Boba is kneeling over him before he could so much as twitch, caging him with his body, pressing a hand against his neck.
“Yield.” They’re both panting, even though the fight didn’t go on as long as it normally would have. Din lets out another hiss this time, and thrashes, but Boba is heavier than him and they both know that Boba already won. Din settles down eventually, although Boba can’t deny that he didn’t enjoy the feeling of the other writhing beneath him.
Not the time, he tells himself firmly, before his thoughts could get carried away.
“That wasn’t fair,” Din says finally, his voice hoarse.
Boba removes his hand from his throat, and moves it to his shoulder instead, keeping him pinned. “Last time I checked, you had no problem fighting dirty.”
Beneath him, Din pouts, and Boba has to bite his lip to not coo at him. “It’s how I was taught,” he says, defensive.
“Then don’t blame me if I’ve picked up on some of your tricks.”
Din wiggles again, trying to move his feet up enough to kick Boba in the back. Boba shifts easily, catching Din’s knees between his own. Between them, Din’s tail twitches. “You haven’t yielded yet,” he says in an entirely too smug voice. Din narrows his eyes at him.
“You don’t deserve a yield.”
Boba laughs, the force of it jostling them both. He loved how much of a spitfire Din could be when he got in the ring. When he didn’t get what he wanted. Din was a good fighter, and no doubt he could have won the match if he was up against someone who fought fair. Boba usually did. But he liked seeing Din riled up. Especially when he was riled up underneath him.
“If you refuse to yield, then I suppose you’re looking for punishment.” Boba’s not sure where those words come from. He wishes, almost instantly, that he could take them back. Yes, he had flirted with Din before. But he knew Din thought it was just part of Boba’s personality, that Boba flirts with everyone. And yes, maybe Boba had let his hand rest on the knee of someone who he needed to sign a contract, and yes, maybe he knew how to flatter people into letting their guards down, but that was nothing. Empty. Whenever he flirted with Din, he put his whole heart into it. But he was careful enough to keep it light. To keep Din from backing away.
He was pretty sure Din liked him. At least he knew Din liked him more than others. But that lack of knowing for certainty, the risk of pushing Din away… it frightened Boba.
And so he’s ready to push off of Din, to brush away what he said with a laugh, to offer him a change of clothes and perhaps a snack, when he looks down at Din and sees the flush that has spread across his face.
Boba shifts, the forced smile that had been forming on his lips fading, his mouth suddenly dry. He swallows, and he sees Din’s eyes flit to his neck. Boba takes his hand away from Din’s shoulder, slowly moving it to his hair. It's matted in sweat now, and still tangled, but-- it’s soft. So soft. When Boba tangles his fingers in it, Din’s lips part, and Boba feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room.
Boba again, slowly, so slowly, moves, his fingers brushing against one of Din’s ears. He waits for Din to flinch, to push him away, to hiss, but Din is pliant, his eyes going half lidded as Boba carefully runs a finger along the ear.
Din shudders.
Boba is finding it hard to breathe. He curls his fingers around, and scratches.
Din arches a bit underneath him, and a strange sound comes from him. Soothing, comforting, content.
Din is purring.
Boba lets out a breath, a smile tugging at his lips. He scratches harder, and Din leans into it, pressing his head against Boba’s hand. The purr grows louder, causing Din’s whole chest to vibrate.
Adorable, Boba thinks. Adorable and utterly captivating. Which is why he didn’t notice Fennec walking into the room until it was too late.
“You two look like you’re having fun.”
Din’s eyes snap open and his face turns red. The purr stops dead in his throat.
“Fennec.” He can’t seem to make eye contact with her. He pushes against Boba’s chest, and Boba quickly gets up, brushing himself off. Din does the same, staring at the floor.
Boba rolls his eyes at Fennec’s raised brow. “We were just sparring. To get the zoomies out.” He feels Din’s glare more than sees it. His smirk falls as Fennec’s brow raises higher, and he clears his throat. “Where’s the kid?”
“Left him with the Jedi. He says that Grogu needs to undergo some mind exercises or something to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” She turns to Din. “You should be able to pick him up in a couple of days. Skywalker will contact you.”
“Thanks,” Din says, and Boba can’t help but notice how his ears and tail have seemed to wilt at the prospect of his son being gone for the time being.
“Have you two eaten yet? I’m starving.” Fennec turns and heads for the kitchen without waiting for their response. Boba glances over at Din, who’s still blushing and staring at the floor.
“Alright?” He asks. Should we talk about this? He means to ask.
Din nods. His ears are still drooped, but he follows Fennec without waiting for Boba to follow. Boba sighs.
What would have happened if Fennec hadn’t walked in? He and DIn had been so close. Yes, the two of them had sparred together-- many times. And they had gotten close, yes. They had each pinned the other down before, just as mercilessly as Boba had just pinned Din. But it had always been quick. They had never held that position for more than a few moments. Had never touched the way they did just now.
And Din had liked it. Boba was sure of it. Din was strong and capable, and if he hadn’t liked it Boba would have been knocked back on his ass before he could try anything more. But then Fennec had come and--
Boba sighs again as he goes to follow the two of them. He can only hope that this interaction didn’t scare Din away. That it didn’t ruin what Boba had tried to build between the two of them.
What he was almost sure Din was helping to build too.
Almost.
----
It’s later in the day than Boba had realized, although he supposed that he and Din had gotten a late start to the day as they tried to process the shock of his sudden transformation. Boba’s stomach grumbles as he sits down at the small round table they have taken to using for more intimate dinners between the three of them. Fennec has already served herself and is spearing her dinner with her fork. Din, too, has served himself-- all meat, Bobo notes-- but is poking listlessly at it.
“Your trip went well then?” Boba asks as he sits and serves himself. The food, as always, looks amazing. With this new position, he hadn’t expected the wealth of options that would flow into his kitchen. Every night, it seemed, there was something new. Fennec reveled in it, but Boba wouldn’t mind it if the chefs saved the decadence for more formal affairs. Still, he couldn’t deny that the food always tasted divine.
Fennec hums as she inspects the vegetable on the end of her knife, taking in whatever sauce it had been coated in before deciding it was safe enough to eat. “Skywalker seemed a little baffled, but I guess he managed to find a book that had an account of something similar. Your kid,” she says, pointing at Din with her fork, “doesn’t seem the least bit sorry.”
Din looks up, and Boba is relieved to see a wry smile tugging at his lips. “That sounds about right.”
But then Din’s eyes dart to meet his, and he looks down again, his ears lowering. Boba feels a weight in his chest as he shifts, trying to think of a way to establish normalcy again, to take that hesitancy away from Din. For as much as Boba yearns for him-- as much as his heart cries out for Boba to make a kriffing move, to bridge the gap between what they have and what he wants-- he can’t ruin that. What they have. Their friendship. He values Din as a friend, perhaps more than Din realizes. He values his loyalness, his honesty, his honor. He doesn’t want to ruin that. Even if that means never telling Din his true feelings. Even if he has to spend the rest of his days pining.
“I don’t know why he would be sorry,” Boba says, forcing a lightness to his tone as he reaches for a bottle to fill his goblet. “I, for one, like this new look on him.”
Fennec rolls her eyes at him as she tears apart something that looked to once be some sort of bird on her plate. Din shifts in his seat, continuing to poke at his meal. His ears have lowered more, defensive.
Boba clears his throat, grasping for more to say. “I mean,” he drawls, I had considered getting a pet before, but this--”
Din throws his fork down. “I get it, okay? This is amusing to you. It’s fun. It’s amazing. The only time you ever bother to look at me and it’s--” He cuts himself off abruptly.
Boba blinks in surprise, staring. Din’s ears are pinned against his head now, and he stands up abruptly, his fork clattering. His tail, Boba can see, is bristling. “Excuse me,” he chokes out before storming away.
“Din!”
Boba watches Din leave, his mouth open in shock. Fennec promptly throws a roll at his head. “Ow!” Boba snaps.
“You deserve that.”
“Why?”
“He thinks you’re making fun of him, you idiot.”
Boba frowns, picking up the role and placing it back on the table. “I just--”
“Give him a minute. Then go apologize.”
“But--”
“Go. Apologize.”
Boba frowns down at his food, his appetite gone. He hadn’t been trying to make fun of Din. He had just-- he had just wanted things to go back. For Din to be able to look him in the eye, for them to forget about what happened earlier, if he wished. Earlier today, Din would have acted annoyed but amused at Boba’s comments. Fennec may have even laughed, if she had gotten enough drink in her. Perhaps they would have ended the night with a game of sabacc, and then they would have gone to bed and woken up without his ears and tail and things would go back to the way they were, with Boba trying to keep his feelings at bay and with Din slowly but surely opening up. If not as a lover, than as a friend.
Boba could take that. He could.
But what was it that Din had just said?
The only time you ever bother to look at me and it’s--
Boba closes his eyes. That insufferable idiot.
He waits a minute.
And then he goes to apologize.
----
Boba takes a deep breath and knocks on Din’s door. He hears movement but no answer. Boba sighs, shuffles his feet, and considers walking away and doing this in the morning. Then he pictures Fennec slowly murdering him while repeatedly telling him how much of an idiot he is and he decides to knock again. This time he gets a response.
“What.”
“Can I come in?”
More silence. Boba knows that Din is warring with two sides: the one side that pushes Din to be insufferably polite, and the side that is pissed off at Boba and wants to ignore him for the next several weeks. After a few moments, the polite side wins.
Din cracks open his door then retreats back to his bed so fast Boba barely has time to recognize that Din even moved. Boba sighs, but takes the invitation, stepping inside and shutting the door softly behind him.
Din is already sitting, his blanket pulled up around him, blocking Boba’s sight of his ears. Boba feels his heart crack at that-- that Din felt the need to cover them up, That he didn’t trust Boba to see them. Boba steps towards the bed but stops short of it. “May I sit?”
Din’s room isn’t big. Despite both Boba and Fennec insisting he take a bigger room, it really fits little more than the bed, Grogu’s hammock, and a mostly empty dresser. Din frowns, considering, but eventually nods. Boba sits on the edge of the bed, looking at the other. Din looked back, his big brown eyes looking miserable. Boba cleared his throat.
“I… apologize. If I made you feel uncomfortable or mocked today. It wasn’t my intention.” Din continues frowning at him, and Boba can see the shape of one of his ears twitching, his tail curling uncomfortably. Not a great apology , Boba chided himself. Not even a good one. Try again.
It’s easier to turn away for this part, so he does, bracing his arms on his knees as he faces the edge of the bed, Din’s pale unmarked walls. “I just--” He cuts himself off, trying to find the words. “I like you, Din. I have for a while,” he blurts out, and it’s such a dizzying relief to have those words out in the open. But the fear of rejection, of ruining what they have, still clamps down on Boba, making it feel as though he has to choke the words out. “And I meant every word I said today. I do think you’re adorable, but I think you’re much more than that. You’re smart and brave and handsome, and despite what you may think I have been looking at you for a while, a long while, I just didn’t want to--”
To ruin this. Us. The family Boba managed to carve out here. To push Din away. To make him uncomfortable. To make him feel as though he either had to reciprocate or leave. To…
Boba feels Din’s hand on his shoulder, and he realizes suddenly that he’s crying.
“Ah-- I’m sorry.” He rubs his hands over his face, trying to get them to stop. Realizing, now, that maybe he’s probably revealed too much of himself. He goes to stand up, but Din’s hand is still on his shoulder.
“Boba.” Din’s voice is achingly gentle. Boba tenses, preparing himself. If Din was going to reject him, of course he would do it kindly.
Din’s hand moves, sliding down his arm, tugging. A silent request for Boba to turn around. Boba hesitates before obliging, although it’s hard to raise his eyes to Din’s face. He isn’t sure what he’ll find there, and it scares him. Pity, perhaps. Disgust, maybe. Sadness, almost certainly. Because they both know that Boba has forever and irrevocably changed everything between them.
But when Boba does manage to bring his eyes up, Din is looking at him with… adoration. With a softness in his eyes that Boba doesn’t remember seeing before. And he’s smiling .
“Boba,” Din repeats. A sigh, and Boba’s eyes dart down to those lips against his will.
“I can go,” he finds himself saying. “I don’t… I don’t want to…”
Din is coming steadily closer. Boba doesn’t stop talking until the other’s lips are on his own.
Oh.
It takes him a moment to register what’s happening. But once he does, he surges forward, his hands going up to tangle in Din’s hair. It feels natural, like his body already knows where to go, where to touch. Din allows Boba to shift them, to twist around until he’s laying Din back on the bed slowly, tenderly.
The kiss is exactly how Boba imagined it would be. Better. Din’s lips are soft, hesitant. Boba wonders if this is Din’s first kiss. The thought of that makes his heart do something strange in his chest.
Boba could kiss Din forever. Unfortunately, lack of air was becoming a problem, and so he regretfully pulls back, panting, flushed, his mind still trying to process what just happened.
Beneath him, Din looks no better-- his lips are parted, already swollen, and his eyes are glazed over. Boba can feel his tail curling against his legs. “I like you too,” Din says. Simply, matter of factly. Happily. Boba smiles down at him, his heart thudding. Still processing. Still not sure that this is real.
He wonders if now is the time to say that he doesn’t just like Din, but he decides against it. There were already enough truths out for one night. Instead he hooks his fingers under Din’s chin, raising him up for another kiss. Din goes willingly, a purr building once more in his throat.
Yes, it probably shouldn’t have taken a force transformation for this to happen. Boba knows this. But still, as he lifts a hand to scratch at those kriffing ears and feels Din press against him harder, he can’t help but be grateful for Grogu and his mysterious, mischievous ways.
He’ll think of a present to get the little tyke tomorrow. But for tonight, he’ll be busy convincing Din that he really, truly likes him, for more than his adorable ears and tail
Likes him, and then some.