Work Text:
‘Gentle’ wasn’t a word anyone would have thought to describe someone like Vader. Or Boba, for that matter. But the Galaxy was a cruel place, and they’d both gotten their fair share of pain over the years. Boba couldn’t remember a time anyone had been gentle with him, yet he still craved the occasional kind word or soft touch.
Embarrassing as it was to admit, he might have cried a little under his helmet when Vader, after a particularly rough mission, wrapped an arm around Boba’s shoulders and pressed the foreheads of their helmets together. He’d needed the contact, desperately.