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After a particularly exhausting hunt, Din Djarin had reached the point where he was no longer tired.
Tired implied there was still some amount of energy left to lose.
Din was beyond that.
He was running on instinct.
The kind of exhaustion that settled deep into his bones. The kind that made every step feel heavier than the last. The kind where all he wanted was to walk through his front door, take off his armor, and collapse into bed.
Nothing else.
No reports.
No repairs.
No planning.
Just sleep.
Thankfully, the hunt had gone well.
Messy, but well.
The bounty was delivered.
The credits were earned.
And now all he wanted was his house.
His kid.
His bed.
He stepped inside, expecting quiet.
Instead, he found Peli Motto sitting in the living room.
Watching.
Din stopped.
Then slowly looked around.
Because there was no sign of Grogu.
At first, his instincts kicked in.
The immediate, automatic panic of a father.
Where is he?
Is he hurt?
Is something wrong?
Then he saw him.
And froze.
Grogu was asleep.
On the windowsill.
Din stared.
For several seconds, he simply processed the sight.
His four-year-old son was somehow curled up on the narrow ledge, wedged into a position that looked physically impossible.
One arm tucked beneath him.
One ear drooping.
Little feet curled awkwardly beneath him.
Din had no idea how he had managed to fall asleep like that without sliding directly onto the floor.
He slowly turned his helmet toward Peli.
The question was obvious.
What happened?
Peli immediately understood.
She sighed.
“He wanted to stay awake until you got home.”
Din looked back at Grogu.
“He said he could see your ship coming sooner if he sat there.”
Something in Din’s chest tightened.
“But…”
Peli smiled softly.
“I guess he couldn’t quite hold out.”
Din stood there for a moment.
The exhaustion was still there.
The aches.
The bruises.
The weight of everything.
But then there was Grogu.
His little boy.
Who had apparently decided that waiting by the window was the best way to welcome his father home.
Din’s heart did that familiar painful thing.
That impossible mixture of love and sadness and gratitude.
The kind that made him feel like his chest was too small to hold everything inside it.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Peli waved him off.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sentimental on me.”
Din almost smiled.
Almost.
Peli gathered her things.
“He’s been asking when you’d be home for hours.”
Din looked down at Grogu.
“I know.”
“And Djarin?”
He looked back.
“Try not to be late again, at least sometimes.”
She nodded to Grogu.
”He won’t always be young enough to still wait up for you.”
Din said nothing.
Because he knew she was right.
Peli left.
The house went quiet again.
Finally.
Carefully, Din moved toward the window.
He had carried Grogu through worse places.
Through danger.
Through battles.
Through situations where one wrong movement meant losing everything.
But somehow, lifting his sleeping child from a windowsill felt like something requiring even more care.
He slid one arm beneath him and lifted.
Grogu immediately melted against him.
Like he belonged there.
Because he did.
Din pulled him close to his chest and carried him down the hallway.
Halfway there, Grogu stirred.
Sleepy eyes opened.
“Daddy.”
The happiness in that one word nearly undid him.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Din adjusted his hold.
“Sorry it’s so late.”
Grogu blinked slowly.
“I tried to wait.”
“I know.”
“I tried really hard.”
Din’s heart pulled painfully.
“But you were gone for ages.”
“I know, buddy.”
He hated that.
Hated every time Grogu waited.
Every time he wondered when his father was coming home.
“I’m sorry.”
Din carried him into his room.
“I’ll try to make it quicker next time.”
Grogu nodded faintly.
Then his eyes closed again.
Din lowered him carefully onto the mattress.
Within seconds, he was asleep.
Again.
Din smiled softly.
He pulled the blankets up around him.
Pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“Night, baby.”
He started to stand.
Then—
“Daddy.”
Din froze.
He turned.
Grogu was barely awake.
“You have to sing to me.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“Oh yeah?”
Grogu nodded.
“Uh huh.”
Din shook his head.
“Is that the price for me being late again?”
Another sleepy nod.
“Uh huh.”
Din sighed dramatically.
Then sat back down.
“Okay.”
He shifted, stretching out beside him.
“But if I’m singing, I at least get to lay down.”
A pause.
“Daddy’s worn out.”
Grogu looked up at him.
“Was it a big bad guy this time?”
Din smiled.
“Huge.”
“Did he have big muscles?”
“The biggest.”
Grogu considered this.
“But you still won, right?”
Din looked at him.
This tiny child.
This little person who believed in him more than anyone else in the galaxy.
“Yeah.”
He smiled.
“I did.”
Grogu relaxed immediately.
“Of course.”
A sleepy yawn.
“You always win.”
Din chuckled.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
Grogu’s eyes were already closing.
“You’re invincible.”
Din went quiet.
Because Grogu didn’t say it like a joke.
There was no teasing.
No exaggeration.
No understanding of the countless times Din had almost not come home.
To Grogu…
Daddy was invincible.
Daddy always came back.
Daddy always saved him.
Din wished, more than anything, that he could keep that belief safe forever.
He knew better.
He knew the galaxy.
He knew what could happen.
He knew he was just a man.
A man with scars.
A man who got hurt.
A man who got tired.
A man who, someday, would not be able to win every fight.
But tonight?
Tonight, his son looked at him like he was the safest thing in existence.
And Din couldn’t bring himself to take that away.
“I don’t know about invincible, kid.”
His voice softened.
“But I am tired.”
Grogu smiled sleepily.
“Sing.”
Din smiled.
“Yeah, yeah.”
He settled beside him.
And quietly, gently, he sang the song that played every time he watched his innocent child sleep.
“Your little hand’s wrapped around my finger. It’s so quiet in the world tonight,”
He started gently.
“Your little eyelids flutter cause you’re dreaming, so I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light.”
Grogu exhales, snuggling deeper into the covers.
“To you, everything is funny,”
Grogu’s little laugh was like medicine to him. It could heal any wound, any bad day, any worry.
“You’ve got nothing to regret,”
His child didn’t know guilt. He didn’t know shame. He didn’t know regret.
He only knew love.
“I’d give all I have honey….”
His heart squeezed, voice cracking.
“If you could stay like that.”
Grogu shifted onto his side.
Din’s hand moved to his back, rubbing gently.
“Oh, darling, don’t you ever grow up. Don’t you ever grow up. Just stay this little.”
“It could stay this simple,”
Din shifted his hand, resting over Grogu’s heart.
“I won’t let nobody hurt you, won’t let no one break your heart,”
He knew he couldn’t guarantee it. But he would try with everything he had.
“No one will desert you,”
“Just try to never grow up.”
Grogu drifted off beside him.
His breathing slowed.
His little hand rested against Din’s arm.
Din kept singing softly until he was sure his son was completely asleep.
Then he stopped.
And just watched him.
Because someday, Grogu would grow.
Someday, he would not need bedtime songs.
Someday, he would not wait by the window for his father to come home.
Someday, he would have his own adventures.
His own dreams.
His own life.
And Din would be proud.
He would be so proud.
But tonight…
Tonight he was four.
Tonight he still believed his father could do anything.
Tonight he still needed Din to sing him to sleep.
So Din stayed.
Just a little longer.
Holding onto the moment.
Holding onto his baby.
Before time carried him somewhere else.