Din had turned off his com the fifth time Bo-Katan tried calling him.
It was not the most well thought out decision he ever made, but Din had already committed to it. He had been committed to this, rather frankly, stupid idea when he decided to sneak off the planet. But Din needed time away from the...everything that was happening on Mandalore, or else he would throw the darksaber into a crowd of challengers and run and hope Bo-Katan and the Armorer didn’t kill him before he could reach Yavin and live out the rest of his life in a self imposed exile with Grogu and Luke.
It was still tempting, truth be told.
Din flicked on the auto controls as the ship was tugged into Tatooine’s atmosphere, then tilted his head back and groaned.
This was exhausting. Soul crushing.
Din almost wished they would go back to challenging him for the darksaber instead of for the right to marry him. At least then he actually knew what he was getting into. And Bo-Katan was no help either. She just smiled at him at every challenge and parroted back this is the Way, Mand’alor in that snippy mocking tone of hers.
Paz thought the whole thing was hilarious.
Din wanted to slam his head into the control panel just thinking about it. Instead he sat back up and guided the ship into a decently smooth landing next to the old Hutt palace. There were some bumps and bruises—Din still wasn’t used to flying anything that wasn’t the Crest.
He needed spotchka.
“Welcome back to our little corner of the galaxy, Mand’alor,” Boba was already waiting for him outside, arms crossed and hip cocked, looking Din over as he descended the ramp of the ship. “You look like shit.”
Boba snorted out a laugh. “Come in and tell me all about it then, since I apparently offer free therapy hours.” Din tilted his head, and Boba tacked on, “Your Jedi is here too. Bitching about the senate trying to marry him off.”
He only sounded a little annoyed, which was a vast improvement over the last time Boba had spent time with Luke. The two of them had struck up an odd sort of friendship that was mostly founded on getting drunk with each other, although Din wasn’t sure if friendship was the right word to use in that context. More like begrudging drinking buddies. The two of them had more or less been forced to get along because of their mutual relationship with Din and some background history Luke and Cobb had that Din didn’t really want to go anywhere near with a ten foot pole.
“That makes two of us then,” Din grumbled.
Boba barked out a surprised laugh, and Din huffed and marched past him and into the palace. He needed spotchka. Bad.
“Is the princess trying to find you a picture perfect Mandalorian spouse?” Boba caught up to him. Laughter dripped from his every word. “Make you into a king with the perfect family?”
“No.” Din pushed open the door to one of the dining areas. Luke was there already, sitting at the table with Cobb and nursing a glass of half empty spotchka, cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol and laughter from whatever it was Cobb had just said to him. Din’s heart did something funny as he looked at Luke. “I don’t think so.”
Maybe that was why Bo-Katan wasn’t doing anything.
That sounded like something she would do.
Luke grinned and knocked back the rest of his drink. Din cleared his throat. “Where’s Fennec?”
“She got bored,” Boba answered. He waltzed past Din and into the room. “We got word of some slavers trying to start up on Tatooine again, so I let her go check it out.”
Let her go kill some people, was what Boba meant.
Din shook his head and followed after Boba. He nodded at Cobb in greeting, sat next to Luke and accepted the glass of bright blue liquid Cobb slid over to him.
“Din!” Luke greeted him with a smile and thinly veiled surprise, like he had just noticed him. He scooted closer to Din, pressing their shoulders together and tilting his head up to look at him. Din could swear he could feel the warmth of him though the beskar. “Hi, Din.”
Din squinted at him. Luke was definitely drunk.
“Leia wanted to take him for a few days.” Luke answered, then, again, “Hi, Din.”
“Hi, Luke.” Din took his helmet off, offered Luke a smile in return, wondered just how much Luke had drank when Luke’s face went an odd shade of red, then knocked back his own drink like it was water.
“Rough day?” Cobb asked.
Din just shoved his glass back at Cobb for a refill.
“Very rough day,” Cobb filled up the glass and slid it back, then took Luke’s and filled that one up too. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Din sighed. “I keep getting—keep getting kriffing marriage proposals.”
Din knocked that drink back too.
It was getting out of hand, really. Din couldn’t go anywhere in Sundari without someone stopping him and demanding the ritual combat of the traditional marriage proposal. He couldn’t even hide out in his house anymore because Bo-Katan kept dragging him out for meetings and ceremonies. Din was tired. Exhausted. And Bo-Katan was probably getting a kick out of this entire thing.
“Oh, are they trying to marry you off too?” Luke asked. He looked sad. He looked drunk. Din wanted to be that drunk. “That sucks.”
“It does.” Din agreed.
The alcohol was already starting to get to his head, but Din had never been very good at holding his alcohol in the first place. He wasn’t like Cobb and Luke, who had grown up on Tatooine with nothing to do but drink. Those two could make their way through two bottles of spotchka together and be fine--they had done that. Multiple times. Boba was always calling Din to complain about it.
“Well, you are a very eligible bachelor,” Cobb said. He smiled as Din glared, then looked at Luke before refiling Din’s glass. “You both are.”
“Thanks,” Luke frowned and wrinkled his nose. “I think.”
Din snatched the glass from Cobb and drank half of it in one go.
“That doesn’t mean I want to get married,” Din finally said. He did, actually, but Din didn't think that Luke necessarily wanted to marry him
“I don’t know,” Cobb hummed and glanced at Boba. The other mandalorian had been sitting at the table silently, but when Cobb made eye contact he frowned and stiffened. “Being married is pretty great.”
Din narrowed his eyes, trying to process that.
“They got married,” Luke filled in. He pressed himself completely against Din’s side, humming as he dropped his head on Din’s shoulder. “All--all three of ‘em.”
“Congratulations.” Din said, then downed the rest of the spotchka.
“I’d like to get married,” Luke said. He sighed wistfully, relaxing enough to drop most of his weight on Din. Din had to brace his leg against the table to keep from falling over. “Just not to--to thoes stupid senators.” Luke’s head jerked back up, nearly smashing against Din’s chin. “They keep sending me things.”
Din did not dare ask what those things are.
“I don’t know if I can picture you married,” Din said instead, ingoring the way his heart was acting like a bird trying to get out of his chest. And he couldn’t, not really. He couldn’t imagine Luke ever being tied down to someone, being paraded around in front of politicians like some sort of doll. No, Luke had to have his freedom, had to go and be reckless and run around the galaxy and have someone waiting back home for him. Like Din, who was always waiting for Luke to come back to Mandalore with Grogu anyway--
Luke frowned, turning back to look at Din. “Are you saying I wont be a good husband?”
Din floundered, felt his cheeks go red. He had not expected that sort of response. Had not expected to have a revelation about his feelings for Luke Skywalker either. “I’m not saying that—“
“I’d make a great husband!” Luke continued. His speech was starting to slur, although maybe it spoke more to Din’s own quick drunkenness that he still understood it. He had forgotten just how awful he was at being able to hold his alcohol. Din was like a child who drank for the first time. “You’d marry me, right Cobb?”
“I would have, if you asked back in Mos Pelgo.” Cobb easily answered. He was grinning. “No offence, Bo.”
Boba just grunted.
Luke looked back at Din. “See? Great husband material.”
“You would make a great husband,” Din said. He frowned, set his glass down and took Luke’s hands in his and said just a bit too seriously. “I’d marry you.”
Luke stared hard at him.
“Do it then.”
Din was drunk. Din was definitely drunk because when Luke threw out the jab and stared him down like it was a personal challenge Din didn’t even think to hesitate before he let the marriage vow spill from his lips.
“Oh my fucking--” Boba tiled his head back and groaned, but Cobb shushed him before he could get much further. “Did you put something in the spochka?”
“Nope.” Cobb answered.
“You gotta say it back,” Din said, ignoring the both of them.
Luke fumbled through the Mando’a, butchered the pronunciation worse than a child just learning to speak, but when he finished he looked so proud of himself that Din couldn’t find the heart to make fun of Luke for it. He smiled instead. “There. We’re married.”
“Good,” Luke said, then he grabbed a fistful of Din’s cape and yanked him into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and alcohol.
Din woke to the sun shining directly in his eyes. It hurt--kriff, did it hurt--and Din rolled over to try and get away from it.
He collided with Luke.
Din shot up, regardless of his pounding headache, and stared down at Luke with wide eyes.
It took Din a moment to remember--to remember getting drunk, exchanging the marriage vow, kissing Luke like they were horny teeangers again, stumbling back to one of the spare bedrooms after Boba kicked them out of the dining room, stripping from cloth and armor and tumbling into bed and--
Luke wrinkled his nose and cracked open his eyes.
They stared at each other for a moment, and Din found himself looking at Luke’s neck, at the bruises and bite marks he left behind.
Then Luke shot up.
“Ow--fuck--” Luke slapped a hand to his head and hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine--” Luke waved him off. “Just--headache.”
Din nodded slowly. His own head was killing him. He had planned to get drunk when he came to Tatooine, but he hadn’t planned to get that drunk. Drunk enough to marry Luke Skywalker, apparently. Din’s stomach twisted and churned, and not just from the nauseousness of his hangover.
“Guess I didn’t dream that, huh?” Luke asked.
Din swallowed. His mouth was dry. “No. Guess not.”
They fell into another silence. Din looked around the room while they collected themselves. His armor was scattered in a pile by the door, his flight suit not much further away. Luke’s clothing had gone just about everywhere--some of it was left with Din’s armor, and other pieces were kicked off by the bed.
“Are you mad about it?”
Din blinked and looked back at Luke.
“What, the marriage or the sex?”
Luke winced. “I don’t know. Both?”
Din stayed quiet for awhile. He looked Luke over, looked at the lines of his body and the bright splashes of blue and purple and red Din had left behind on pale skin and admired the look of it. He had always admired the way Luke looked--admired everything about him, really. “No. I’m not mad.”
Luke looked up at him, surprised.
“You didn’t make me marry you, Luke.”
Luke looked away again. “Kinda feels like I did.”
“You didn’t.” Din repeated, and left it at that.
“Oh.” Luke blinked, then smiled. “I feel like there was an easier way we could have done this.”
“You never do things the easy way,” Din answered.
Luke laughed, bright and happy. He leaned forward, held Din’s face between his hands as he kissed him.
“You got married.” Bo-Katan said.
Din hummed. “Yeah.”
“To Luke Skywalker.”
Din nodded, flipped through a datapad. “Is that a problem?”
Bo-Katan was silent for a long time. Then she tilted her head back and sighed.