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Luke thinks Din is extremely lucky when he lands close to the cave, following the tracker of Din’s ship.
It’s late at night, the stars shining bright in the sky, the three moons of the planet illuminating the surface and allowing Luke to see around him. Luke still takes out his lightsaber and lets its light guide him, the tracker in his other hand, feeling out with the Force for threats or anything else.
It doesn’t take him long to feel Din’s Force signature.
Din feels fainter than Luke is used to in the Force. He remembers when they first met on the cruiser and his eyes fell on Din—even with the armor, his presence rivaled Grogu’s in brightness. It’s impressive, considering Din is about as Force sensitive as a rock and still insists on calling the Force “the magic-hand thing”, though Luke suspects that’s because Grogu finds it incredibly funny when Din says it. Usually, if he focuses just enough, Luke can feel Din throughout the temple, even miles away, the faint light ebbing through the Force as if the Force welcomes it and enjoys its presence.
Now, Luke stares at the cave in front of him and a shiver runs down his spine. Din is just a few steps inside, leaning against the wall, and Luke can barely feel him. His exhaustion forgotten, Luke steps inside and quickly moves to Din’s figure, outlined in the dim light of the moons and now the brighter light of his lightsaber, and his heart jumps in his chest. It’s been about five hours since Din sent that distress signal to Luke, and it seems like his condition only got worse in the meantime.
Luke clasps the lightsaber back to his belt and kneels in front of Din, eyes searching Din’s form. Even in the dark, he sees the blood staining Din’s undergarments, dried over his armor, a hand clutching the side of his chest. His glove is torn, revealing blood-caked knuckles, and his pants are tattered to reveal scratches and cuts all over his legs. Luke lifts his eyes to Din’s helmet and the blood that stains the cape right under it. He feels his throat knot.
He didn’t doubt that Din’s condition must be bad when he got the distress signal. Knowing Din, watching him return to the temple every now and then with all kinds of injuries that he just shrugs off, Luke didn’t doubt that something drastic must’ve happened for Din to call for help. And yet…
“Din?” Luke murmurs, shuffling closer to the man. His hands hover over Din’s chest but he doesn’t want to touch anything, just in case he aggravates Din’s injuries. Instead, he focuses on Din’s helmet. “Can you hear me? Are you awake?” If he’s not, Luke thinks he might just rip off the helmet to check if he’s alive. Even if Din hates him for it.
Luke nibbles on his lower lip, fingers hovering under Din’s helmet. “Din,” he calls again, louder this time, letting his knees gently brush Din’s legs. He drops his fingers right under Din’s neck. “Din, please, answer me. Please tell me you’re awake.” Luke’s voice cracks at the last word and he stays there, counting seconds, for Din to say something. One. His fingers trail up Din’s neck to his pulse point, feeling the fabric wet with blood under his hands. Two. A shiver runs down his spine. Shakily, he lifts his thumb and grabs the edge of the helmet, eyes on Din’s visor. Three. He starts pushing it up, bracing himself on Din’s shoulder—
He jumps when he hears a soft grunt. His eyes snap up to Din’s visor and he feels Din’s muscles shift underneath him, as if Din’s trying to get comfortable. Relief washes over Luke so much that he thinks he might just collapse, tears prickling his eyes. He doesn’t remove his hand from Din’s neck.
“Din?” he whispers, fingers curling around Din’s shirt. Din is trembling under his fingers, presumably cold from the amount of blood he lost and the night air, but he relaxes when his eyes find Luke. His fingertips brush Luke’s knee.
“Luke,” he breathes out, hoarse and quiet and shaky. Luke tries to smile through his tears.
“Yeah, it’s me.” He doesn’t even hesitate when he takes off his coat and wraps it around Din, using the Force to block some of the cold out from the cave. “It’s okay. I got you.”
“Here?” Din’s fingers move up Luke’s knee and Luke thinks he tries to squeeze, but he’s not sure. “You’re…here?”
Luke bites the inside of his cheeks. “Of course. I came as soon as I could.” Din shivers again, and Luke quickly tucks the edges of his jacket around Din’s shoulders. “My ship is right outside. I have medical supplies. I’m gonna get you there, okay?” Luke feels a flicker of confusion from Din. His fingers, with tattered gloves, wrap around Luke’s knee, his body trembling all over.
“Leave…me?” Din tries to move, his body straining against the pain, but his head falls to the wall of the cave. “Luke, don’t—”
“I’m not going to leave you,” Luke rushes out, grasping Din’s shoulders. Din doesn’t fight his grip when Luke presses him back down. Instead, his visor tilts, as if he’s trying to focus on Luke, and then his head starts to drop. Inadvertently, Luke digs his nails into Din’s skin and earns a grunt. “Din, no, stay with me.” One hand cups Din’s helmet, keeping it outright, putting pressure on Din’s shoulder with the other hand. A low whine leaves Din’s lips, his body tense.
“Luke…” he gasps, trying to reach for Luke’s hand.
“I’m sorry. I just… I need you to stay awake, okay?”
“Hurts. Please…” Din tries to grab Luke’s wrist and fails, body slumped, and tears prickle Luke’s eyes. He loosens his grip slightly but still holds onto Din’s shoulder.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just… You have to stay with me. Okay?” Din moves his helmet, semi focused on Luke’s face. He doesn’t answer. “Din? Do you hear me?” Panic colors Luke’s voice when Din doesn’t answer. He curls his fingers again, shuffling closer, moving his hand down to the edge of Din’s helmet. His other hand clutches at Din’s chest, digging under the armor to feel his heartbeat. It’s too erratic and weak for Luke’s liking. “Answer me, Din. Say something. Anything. Please.” Luke’s voice cracks at the last word and he holds his breath, waiting for less than five seconds before he moves his hand to lift the helmet.
That’s when he hears it. “Luke.” It’s weak, and especially through the modulator, Luke can barely hear it, but it’s there. “Luke.” Din repeats it, over and over again, as if he heard Luke and he’s trying to make sure that Luke knows he’s awake.
This time, tears do spill from Luke’s eyes. “Yeah,” he whispers, clutching Din’s shirt between his fingers. “It’s me. Stay with me, Din.”
Din’s helmet tilts again. This time, even through the visor, Luke gets the feeling that Din is staring right at him. “Luke,” he says again instead of answering, as if that’s the only word he can hold on. Luke smiles through his tears.
“I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”
The voice through the helmet is even quieter and distorted. “Luke.” Luke gulps and nods.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” And he reaches out with the Force, wrapping it around Din, searching his body for wounds and broken bones and injuries, keeping everything in the same place just so he doesn’t make anything worse. He feels Din relax under the grip of the Force, and when Luke drops his hand to be able to float him, he blindly reaches. Luke lets him wrap his hand around Luke’s. “I’m here.”
Din answers with one word. “Luke.”
It’s an effort to get Din into the ship.
Luke easily lifts Din from the ground, and if that was the only thing he needed to do, it wouldn’t be a problem. But Luke has to make sure that he’s not hurting Din too much while keeping him uncomfortable enough that he doesn’t slip into sleep, keep holding Din’s hand because the pressure grounds him and Din holding back means that he’s still conscious, and talk to Din so he can hear his voice and know that Luke is still there. The one time Luke stopped speaking for more than thirty seconds to get his ship’s door, Din got so anxious that he started fighting the Force, and Luke doesn’t want a repeat of that again.
It’s heartbreaking to see Din, who’s usually so strong, calm, and collected, like this—broken, hurting, and desperate to make sure he’s not alone. Luke is barely able to fight his sobs, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, speaking to Din quietly to make sure his voice isn’t shaky. He keeps talking until he manages to place Din onto a cot—he got a medical ship from Leia, just in case—and flies the ship to the atmosphere, punching in coordinates for the nearest planet with a medical facility.
Only then he realizes what he has to do now that he has Din in the ship.
First priority, except keeping Din awake, is getting him out of the armor so Luke can check his wounds. That’s not a problem, considering he’s seen Din out of the armor multiple times, once Din relaxed enough around the temple to at least take it off. If there are any active bleeds, he has to put pressure and stop them until Din can get a transfusion for all the blood he lost. He can possibly get Din to keep talking to him to ensure he’s awake without seeing his face, and that would’ve been fine, but…
Luke’s eyes flicker to Din’s helmet, the blood staining his cape and neck even clearer now that he’s under bright light. The trail goes up to his helmet and disappears underneath, no doubt caused by a cut on his head, and Luke knows he has to take care of it if he wants to keep Din safe.
Worst of all, though, if Din hit his head, there’s a chance for a brain injury or a bleed, and Luke remembers from his janky first aid lessons with the rebellion that he has to check Din’s pupils to make sure that’s not the case.
Luke has to take Din’s helmet off, and he suddenly feels sick.
Blinking his tears, Luke looks away from Din’s helmet and instead focuses on his chest, unclasping his armor with shaky fingers. “Din?” he whispers, voice cracked. “Can you hear me?”
Din answers with a faint grunt that sort of sounds like a “yes”. Luke doesn’t look up at him, but he smiles shakily. “That’s good. Can you hold onto my side?” he asks, hand lingering over Din’s wrist. Din doesn’t answer, but he does move his hand to Luke’s hip, digging his nails. There’s barely any pressure, and Luke tries not to think how strong Din’s grip usually is. He offers Din a smile. “Yeah, like that. Perfect.” He moves his hands down to Din’s clothes and grabs scissors, cutting through it. If Din has any objections, he doesn’t bring it up. “Just keep holding on, okay? And I’ll take care of you.”
Luke discards the clothes to the side, as well as the gloves, shoes, and the cape. A part of him expected to find deep cuts and gushing wounds, but instead, all he sees is multiple cuts that look shallow enough that they won’t need stitches, some bruises especially along the lines of the armor, and blood caked over Din’s skin. It seems the amount of blood that stained Din’s clothes weren’t from one big cut but several small ones, some of them still glistening with fresh blood.
It’s quick work to clean all of them and put on bacta spray, Din’s grip a grounding pressure on his hip. He feels Din’s visor tilt, as if Din is watching him work, and a flush rises to his cheeks.
Another situation, Luke thinks this might be hot. Another situation, and he might enjoy this. But then Luke finishes patching up all the wounds and he comes up to Din’s helmet, and the dream around him shatters.
Luke’s heart starts hammering against his ribs. He blinks his eyes multiple times and curls his fingers into fists, nails biting into his palms. He stares at the visor for a few seconds.
He blurts the words out. “I need to check your head for injuries.” They’re rushed and quiet, his hands still a few inches away from the helmet, and he keeps his hands on Din’s chest. He expects Din to freeze or argue, but Din just lets out a shaky breath. He grunts again, not really giving a proper answer. Luke tries to gulp down the sour taste in his mouth.
“And your eyes,” he whispers, fingers shakily grasping the edge of the helmet. “I’ll have to check your pupils. I’ll have to… look.”
“Luke.” Din’s voice is so faint that Luke barely hears it, but there’s no animosity in his voice. He doesn’t say anything and Luke wonders briefly whether his words are even getting through to him, whether he realizes what Luke has to do.
Biting the inside of his cheeks, Luke pushes away those thoughts. Thinking about how Din might feel about Luke seeing his face, Luke taking advantage of his vulnerability to take the helmet off, won’t help. Din needs medical attention, and Luke has to make sure that he stays alive until they get to the medical center. Luke doesn’t have a choice.
Even if Din hates him at the end, at least he’d be alive.
Without a second thought, Luke grabs Din’s helmet and pushes it up with shaky fingers. The first thing he notices is Din’s mustache and light stubble, messy and caked with blood, lower lip split and swollen. Then, his eyes travel up, to his cheeks littered with light bruises, his forehead caked with blood and cut on the left side, and finally his eyes. Big brown eyes, hazy but still focused, meet Luke’s blue ones. Luke almost cries when Din manages to hold his gaze. He whispers something that sounds like a “hi”, his hand curling around Luke’s side. Tears spill from Luke’s eyes. Impulsively, he reaches up to lightly cup Din’s cheek.
“I’ll take care of you,” he promises, voice hoarse and tear-strained. Din just blinks as Luke presses a gentle hand on his. “Keep your hold, okay?” Din doesn’t say anything, but he does tighten his grip, as if trying to say he understood.
Luke has to keep his hand over Din’s for a few more seconds to pull himself together before he reaches for the small light from the counter. He places shaky fingers to Din’s chin, angling his face towards himself, and turns on the light. “I’ll shine it in your eyes now,” he warns, searching Din’s gaze for a few seconds. Beautiful, he thinks, biting his tongue. Din’s eyes are beautiful, striking, soft, everything Luke imagined they’d be like, everything he dreamed about. He gulps shamefully and blinks, lifting the light.
He didn’t remove the helmet to stare at Din’s face. It’s against Din’s creed. He’s supposed to check his eyes, clean the wounds, and that’s it. That’s all this is.
With the light, both of Din’s pupils constrict, and relief shoots through Luke’s veins. Only his hold around Din’s shoulders keeps him from collapsing. He turns his eyes to Din’s chest, fingers curling over the skin. “Your pupils are responsive,” he whispers. “I don’t think you have a serious brain injury.” Din’s hand tightens on Luke’s side, and Luke sees his lips move from the corner of his eyes, but no sound comes from Din. “I’m gonna clean your wounds now. If that’s… If that’s okay.”
Din squeezes his hand again. Luke thinks he hears something that sounds like “okay”, but he’s not sure. He grabs a towel and bacta spray and after a shaky breath, turns back to Din.
Maybe it’s his imagination, maybe Din is concussed despite the eye test and doesn’t really know what’s going on around him, maybe he isn’t even aware that his helmet is off, but Luke doesn’t see any sort of hate or animosity in his eyes. Instead, Din looks… calm. Trust shines through his gaze, the lines of his face smooth and relaxed, lips curled into something that might’ve been a smile if his lower lip wasn’t cut. Gently, Luke turns Din’s head and cleans the wound with shaky hands, making sure to keep his voice as light as possible.
“Luke,” Din whispers, fingers tight around Luke’s side again. Luke doesn’t look at his eyes, firmly focusing on the wound. Despite the amount of blood that cakes his cheeks and forehead, the cut isn’t that deep or bad—Luke just hopes that it won’t need stitches. “Luke.”
“It’s okay, Din,” Luke whispers shakily, moving the cloth to his forehead. “Almost there, and then…” He bites his lip, glancing at the helmet. He doesn’t think putting it back on now would be ideal. “Then I can cover your face,” he offers, trying to blink away his tears. “I don’t want to… The helmet is metal and I don’t—I don’t exactly know your injuries so I don’t want to risk moving your head—”
“Luke,” Din interrupts, moving his fingers on Luke’s hip. Luke realizes too late that he’s trying to tug him close. His hand shakes as he tries to lift it, digging his nails into Luke’s shirt. This time, Luke can’t help it. His eyes flicker to Din’s and find them watching him carefully. Din’s lips twitch again. “Pretty.”
Luke’s heart stutters in his chest. He’s sure he must’ve heard Din wrong, but Din digs his nails into Luke’s shirt again, and only then Luke realizes he’s trying to reach Luke’s face. Shakily, Luke takes Din’s hand in his and moves it up, leaning down in the meantime, and presses his palm to his cheek. “Here?” he asks, searching Din’s face. Din’s face relaxes and he mumbles something, but it’s too low for Luke to hear. Then, his thumb brushes Luke’s cheek, wiping away a tear, and Luke is sure he stops breathing.
“Pretty blue,” Din whispers again, voice so low that Luke strains to hear. A knot lodges in his throat. It’s impossible, and yet…
“You’re injured,” Luke chokes out, still keeping his hand around Din’s. He thinks he might fall apart now if Din moves it away. “This isn’t… You’re not…” He can’t even string the words together, but Din seems to understand because amusement flickers in his eyes. He smiles again.
“Always,” he murmurs, curling his fingers around Luke’s cheek. You’re always pretty. Tears rush down Luke’s cheeks, faster than Din can capture them.
“Din.” His voice is low, his body trembling all over. He searches Din’s face, searches for a hint of a lie or something that indicates he’s just loopy because of pain, but his eyes look so open and genuine that…Luke wants to believe him. “Thank you.” The words are barely intelligible through his tear-strained voice.
Din just offers him a shaky smile before he drops his hand again, this time on Luke’s, and squeezes as much as he can. Luke doesn’t move it away from him, even when he has to clean Din’s face up with his left hand, tears continuously streaming down his face.
He doesn’t cover Din’s face when he’s done. He stays there, watching Din’s face, watching him breathe and blink and smile, holding Din’s hand. He wonders whether Din minds it. Whether Din will see it as treason once he’s back to himself.
Despite everything, Luke doesn’t feel hopeful.
It takes Din a total of four days to completely come back to himself.
Once Luke lands the ship in the medical center, he covers Din’s face with a cloth and pushes him out, demanding that he only be taken care of by medical droids. The ER secretary tries to fight but Luke puts his foot down, and with the help of the Force, he is able to get Din into a completely private room, with only droid access.
He has no idea whether that breaks Din’s creed or not, but it is better than humans seeing his face. Including… Luke .
A part of Luke thinks that he could reasonably go to Din’s room. The medical droids informed him on day two that he could visit, even if Din was still asleep. His body was recovering, and they were sure he’d wake up—no, Luke definitely didn’t break down into sobs upon hearing that—so they allowed visitors. Luke already saw Din’s face anyway—it wasn’t as if he could break Din’s creed twice.
But even the thought of seeing Din’s face again, as necessary as the first time was, makes Luke sick to his stomach. Even if Din didn’t seem like he cared, he was injured and probably concussed. There was a good chance he didn’t even realize that his helmet was off. And if Din woke up right now, with Luke in the room, and hated Luke for what happened…
Luke doesn’t know what he’d do.
He only realized it when he got Din’s distress call, but Din’s been such an integral part of his life in the Jedi Temple. He invited the Mandalorian there for Grogu—the little womp rat absolutely refused to learn anything without his father, and barraged Luke with images of Din whenever Luke tried to get him to use the Force. Luke, who’s never been that good at following the “no attachments” rule himself, thought inviting Din would be the best thing he could do for the kid.
Turned out, it’s been the best thing for him, too. Having Din at the Temple, helping around, hanging out with both Grogu and Luke, talking and laughing and speaking and even eating together—once Luke offered to blindfold himself so Din could eat easily, but Din said he didn’t mind lifting his helmet—has been such a change from the empty rooms and lonely halls. It was easy to be friends with Din—the man was nice and kind, he cared deeply about his son, and despite the… strong exterior, he was really a soft-spoken dad who would go to incredible lengths for Grogu. Soon enough, Luke found himself seeking Din’s presence and guidance whenever he felt lonely, even if it wasn’t about Grogu, and the late afternoon hangouts turned to late night talks, dinners turned into walks around the woods, breakfast turned into early sparring sessions. Luke got to learn so much about Din and shared so much of himself with him that even beyond Leia and Han, he felt like Din knew him better than anyone in the world.
Really, it’s not a surprise that Luke easily fell in love with Din. And now, even the idea of losing it because he’s been so scared for Din’s life that he couldn’t wait the one hour to the medical center to get him checked up…
Luke tries to push those thoughts away as he stares at his knees tucked close to his chest. It’s day four, and Din is still sleeping—he checked in with the medical droids in the morning. He’s still stable and the droids ensure him that he’d wake up soon, and yet anxiety curls in Luke’s stomach as he stares at the doors. “If you would like, you can visit him,” one of the droids offers, yet again. Luke bites down on his lip harshly, enough to draw blood, before he shakes his head. Instead, he curls into his spot in the waiting room—the other visitors give him a wide berth, not because he’s Luke Skywalker but because he’s been crying for four days straight and everyone in the hospital knows to leave those visitors alone—arms around his legs, head tucked between his knees.
He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the familiar presence in the room. The couch shifts under someone’s weight, someone smaller and lighter than him, and Luke feels a gentle hand on his knee. That’s when tendrils of the Force wrap around him, warm and soothing and grounding.
Luke looks up to meet Leia’s soft, brown eyes. “Hey,” she whispers quietly, one hand coming up to brush Luke’s hair out of his eyes and wipe away the stray tears. Luke shivers under her touch and finds himself leaning into it. “Artoo told me which medical center you were in,” she explains before Luke gets the chance to ask. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Luke stares at Leia for a few seconds, her face blurring steadily through his tears. He collapses into Leia’s arms then, sobs racking through his body, head buried into the crook of Leia’s neck. She lets him cry until he’s exhausted, until his throat is so sore that he can barely make a sound, until his tears dry out. She stays there, wrapping Luke with the Force, projecting calm and warmth into it, until Luke feels like he can sit by himself without breaking down again.
He doesn’t look at Leia once he pulls back. He stares at his crossed legs, biting down on his wobbly lips, fiddling with his fingers. “He’s gonna be okay,” he whispers, just because that’s the only thing Luke seems to be able to hold onto without breaking, the one flicker of hope Luke has left. His eyes flicker shut and he digs his nails into his palms, enough that it hurts.
Leia reaches for his hands and unclasps his fingers. “I feel like there’s more to it than that,” she offers. It’s not much of a demand but a question, letting Luke know that he could share if he wanted to. Luke opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
That’s when he feels something warm pressed to his hands. He opens his eyes to find a plastic cup filled with something that resembles soup, steaming, a spoon placed inside. “I thought you could use some food,” Leia whispers. “Looks like you haven’t been eating a lot for a while.”
Luke stares at the soup in his hands blankly. He wonders whether he can drink it now, considering how shaky his hands are, but Leia’s staring at him and he knows he must look a sight—collapsed cheeks, red and puffy eyes, clothes hanging off of his shoulders because the most he’s eaten the last couple of days is a few snack bars he got from the vending machine—so he forces himself to take a sip. Half the spoon spills on his shirt, but he doesn’t care.
He wonders whether the soup tastes bitter or he just feels sick to his stomach.
Tears prickle his eyes again, blurring his vision. He doesn’t even try to blink them away. He stares at the soup, fingers clasping it so tightly that he’s worried he might crush the cup, and the words just leave his lips. “I saw his face,” he blurts out.
Leia stills. “You mean…Din?” she whispers. It’s more of a statement than a question but Luke still nods. He gulps several times before he can find his words again.
“The accident… It was worse than I imagined and… He couldn’t… He was disoriented and confused and there was blood on his neck and I was… I thought he had a serious head injury. I was scared and I just… I had to check.” Luke bites the inside of his cheeks, Din’s brown eyes swimming in front of him. He quickly tries to push it away. He shouldn’t even be thinking about Din’s face now, as pretty as it is, no matter how much he wants to— it’s against Din’s creed and Luke doesn’t want to break it, not again, not even in his mind.
“I broke his creed,” Luke whispers, voice so shaky that he wonders whether Leia even understands him. “I took off his helmet and broke his creed and I… Leia, I don’t want him to hate me.” He bites his lip harshly enough to draw blood. “I don’t want him to leave. I can’t… I don’t want to go back to how it was before him.” Luke remembers the loneliness, the hallowed halls, the excruciating silence and empty rooms and temple too big for one person. If Din leaves now, if he takes Grogu with him…
Leia gently cups his cheek and wipes away the few tears that escaped his eyes. “Luke, he’s not going to hate you,” she says, so firmly that Luke wants to believe her. “It was a medical emergency. You did what you had to do. And the person at the front desk was grumbling about how you only allowed medical droids in his room. You respected his creed enough to make sure he wasn’t seen by anyone but you. I’m sure he’ll see that.” Leia squeezes his cheek before she drops her hand on his shoulder.
A part of Luke knows she’s right. He didn’t have a choice, even though it turned out that Din didn’t have a serious head injury. He couldn’t have done that without looking, without checking his pupils, and if that was the case, not taking his helmet off might’ve been Din’s death sentence. Still, in hindsight he didn’t need to, and that knowledge is enough to make Luke feel guilty.
“What did he tell you?” Leia says, taking him out of his thoughts. Luke’s eyes flicker to him. “When you took off his helmet. He was… Was he awake through it?” She searches Luke’s face and her eyes soften. “He was awake.” It’s not a question. Luke ducks his chin again, staring at his soup. “Luke, did he…” For once, Leia’s voice is strained. “Was he angry?”
“No.” The word is so quiet that Leia has to lean in to hear. Luke shuts his eyes, thinking about Din’s eyes again, as much as he hates himself for it. Eyes that were soft and understanding when Luke took his helmet off, eyes that firmly stayed on his face as Din desperately tried to cup his cheek, the small smile flickering on his lips… Luke presses his lips together and gulps. “He cupped my face,” he whispers, imagining Din’s palm over his cheek for the millionth time in the last few days. “And he… He said I was pretty.” Pretty blue, Din said, presumably talking about Luke’s eyes. And Luke still doesn’t know what to make of it.
“Luke.” A soft laugh escapes Leia’s lips. She shakes her head, tightening his hold around Luke’s shoulder. “He said that, and you think he’s angry at you?”
“He was injured—” Luke tries to argue, but then his eyes meet Leia’s. His voice trails off and his shoulders slump. “Leia, he was confused and disoriented. I don’t think… Maybe he didn’t even realize I was taking off his helmet. If he did, he would’ve said something about it instead of…”
“Maybe he couldn’t,” Leia offers easily with a shrug. “Both of us have seen quite a bit of accidents during rebellion. If he’s as confused and disoriented as you say, it’s also possible that he couldn’t find the words to tell you that it was okay. Instead…” Leia lifts her hand and cups Luke’s cheek. “He cupped your cheek, Luke.” Luke stares at her for a few more seconds until she laughs. “He cupped your cheek like you would’ve done for him, trying to tell you that it was okay. He mirrored you because he couldn’t find the words.”
Luke’s heart stutters in his chest, and despite his common sense, hope blossoms in his chest. He’s not quick enough to crush it. “Leia,” he chokes out desperately, shaking his head until Leia’s hand drops. “I don’t… I can’t believe that.”
“Luke—”
“I can’t,” Luke cuts in quickly, fresh tears filling his eyes. “Please. If it’s not true…” Luke’s voice trails off again as he desperately wipes his tears with his sleeve. He opens his mouth, but doesn’t get a chance to explain himself because that’s when a medical droid walks into the room.
“Mr. Skywalker?” Luke lifts his head, heart stuttering in his chest. Even before the droid speaks, Luke knows what it’s going to say.
“The Mandalorian woke up. He’s asking to see you.”
Luke is shaking all over by the time he stops in front of Din’s room.
A part of him wants to think that it’s good Din asked for him. It must be, right? If Din hated him, why would he want to see him? He could’ve just as easily told the medical droids to tell Luke to get out of there, not see him again, not even talk to him. Instead, he specifically asked to see Luke, meaning he wants to see Luke…right?
Unless it’s only to say that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with Luke again. If that’s the case, Luke doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together for Din’s sake.
Taking a deep breath, Luke tries to release his anxiety into the Force—unsuccessfully—and wraps his fingers around the door handle. He’s not even breathing as he steps through. His gaze drops on the bed...and immediately, his eyes snap close, a hand slamming on them.
He doesn’t exactly know what he expected to find, but at least one thing he expected was that Din would be helmeted. Luke left the armor in Din’s room for a reason—so Din could wear it the moment he was awake, so he doesn’t have to break his creed. He imagined, when Din asked for him, that he’d be wearing the helmet.
Instead, his eyes meet Din’s wide brown ones, soft and warm and expectant. Then, Luke closes his eyes, heart hammering in his chest. “Din!” he yelps, jumping when the door closes loudly behind him. He doesn’t even care about the sound. “You’re not wearing your helmet!”
He expects Din to be angry. Tell him that he wasn’t prepared. He’s ready for Din to yell at him, tell him to get the fuck out, that Luke doesn’t belong. Instead, a soft chuckle leaves Din’s lips, breathy and warm without the helmet’s modulator.
“Luke, it’s okay,” Din whispers hoarsely. His voice is quiet, as if he can’t talk louder, and Luke thinks that maybe that’s true—maybe his throat is injured and dry, maybe a whisper is the loudest he can speak at the moment. Still, Din’s voice is so beautiful that it knocks Luke’s breath right out of his lungs and Luke stands there, fingers shaky over his eyes, biting the inside of his cheeks. “You don’t have to close your eyes. If I wanted to, I would’ve worn my helmet before calling for you.”
Luke doesn’t drop his hand, but his heart does skip a beat. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, lingering by the door, eyes still firmly closed. “But…” he starts, struggling to find the right words. “But your creed… You can’t show your face to anyone…” Luke vaguely waves his hand in the direction of the bed, nibbling on his lower lip. “I didn’t want to break…” His voice trails off again and he winces when he realizes just how hypocritical he must sound. As if he wasn’t the one that took off Din’s helmet just a few days ago. As if he didn’t break Din’s creed already.
“You saw my face already, Luke,” Din murmurs. Luke searches for any kind of anger in his voice, any kind of animosity and betrayal, yet all he hears is a soft, forgiving tone. A shiver runs down his spine and hope takes root in his chest, clawing its way into his heart, and Luke can’t fight it anymore. He latches onto it and drops his hand, but still keeps his eyes firmly closed. “It’s okay. I mean it. You can… You can use the Force…mind-reading thing, or whatever you call it if you want to see if I’m being honest. Just… If you feel guilty about it, don’t. You did what you had to.” Din stops briefly and Luke imagines him nibbling on his lower lip, picking his words. “You saved me,” he continues, even quieter than before, gratitude shining through his voice. Luke shivers again and reaches out with the Force, lingering on the surface of Din’s mind to give him as much privacy as possible, searching his feelings.
He expects to see hints of a lie. Expects anger and frustration, no matter his words. Instead, all Luke finds is blinding care and understanding. He can’t help it. He blinks his eyes open, still holding onto that light in Din through the Force, and meets Din’s gaze. Under the bright white of the hospital, Din’s eyes shine a lighter shade of brown that reminds Luke of melted chocolate. Crinkles appear around them when Luke looks at him, lips curling into a smile—an actual smile now that his lip isn’t split—and gently he pats on the spot next to the bed. A spot he made for someone to sit, Luke realizes quickly. For… Luke to sit.
Luke’s knees are shaky as he makes his way to the bed. He flickers his eyes away from Din’s face and stares at his hand, a safer place, tears prickling his eyes. He stops by Din. The words leave his lips without his intention. “You don’t hate me?”
He bites his lower lip, guilt immediately curling in his stomach. He shuts his eyes just so he doesn’t have to see Din’s reaction—just so Din doesn’t realize that maybe he should hate Luke for what he did. He expects Din to agree, to maybe say something along the lines that he did, but instead Din laughs again. The sound hits Luke right in the chest, reverberating through him, just as he feels something warm press on his cheek. Din’s hand, he realizes, calloused fingers brushing the ends of his hair, his thumb wiping away a tear on his cheekbone. Din presses his palm to the curve of Luke’s chin and Luke finds himself resting his head against it.
“I couldn’t hate you even if I tried,” Din mumbles, moving his hand so he can brush Luke’s eyelids. Luke opens his eyes to look at Din, warm brown meeting deep blue, and tears spill from his eyes. Din easily catches one and chuckles again. “Your eyes turn impossibly blue when you cry, you know?” Din offers him a small smile and curls his fingers around the nape of Luke’s neck. Inadvertently Luke reaches up to hold it, pressing it back into place, afraid that Din might pull back if he doesn’t. Din’s smile widens. “Pretty blue,” he whispers, and the familiar words send a shiver down Luke’s spine.
“You remember?” He searches Din’s face, and the recognition that flickers in Din’s eyes is confirmation enough.
“A part of me thought it was a dream,” Din admits quietly. “That I would’ve never gathered the courage to tell you that if I was awake. But I just… I wanted to tell you that it was okay to remove my helmet. The words just didn’t come to me, and I guess… I just thought the next best thing was to tell you how pretty you looked without the visor. How pretty your eyes were.” Din’s eyes flicker away, and Luke aches to reach forward, tilt his head so Din would look at him again. So this wouldn’t be the last time he saw Din’s face.
Maybe that’s why Luke easily blurts out the next words. Maybe he’s exhausted and sleep-deprived and his brain can’t think properly, and maybe he should’ve eaten more before coming here. Maybe he’s tired of hiding them and in his current state, staring into Din’s eyes, they just come out. And most weirdly of all…he doesn’t regret them.
“Din, I love you.”
Din’s hand stills around Luke’s neck, brows climbing to his forehead. Luke bites down on his lips but doesn’t take his words back. Doesn’t even look away from Din’s eyes, even as his heart starts hammering against his ribs, even when his hand feels clammy and his mouth feels dry. He pushes forward. “In the… In the romantic sense. I love you.” He blinks away his tears, trying to focus on Din’s reaction, his grip tight around Din’s hand. “And I get it if you don’t feel the same,” he rushes out with a shaky voice, speaking so fast that he wonders whether Din even understands him, “and you don’t have to say anything or do anything and I don’t expect you to, it’s okay if you say no, but I just… I wanted you to know—”
Luke’s words are cut with a small yelp when Din tugs him down. He stumbles forward, his empty hand instinctively reaching out to steady himself on Din’s chest. He barely has time to react at all before Din’s lips crash onto his. And Luke… Luke forgets everything.
The kiss is clumsy at first, unsure, close-lipped. It’s clear that Din is inexperienced, his fingers shaky, his lips still, but Luke doesn’t care. He easily melts into the kiss, fingers finding their way to Din’s face to hold him close. Din’s stubble, now messier than ever, bites into his skin but he loves it, he loves Din’s shaky breath when Luke parts his lips, he loves Din’s fingers exploring his hair. The position is awkward and Luke is sure his back will start to hurt if he stays like that for much longer, but he still stays, unwilling to pull away from Din. He wonders if he can bottle this moment up and keep it with him forever.
A soft whine escapes Luke’s lips when Din finally pulls back. Din laughs, still holding Luke close, and presses his forehead against Luke’s. His breath is shaky, but Luke easily feels Din’s relief through the Force, warm and bright and everything Luke could ask for. “I really hoped you’d say that,” Din whispers, fingers carding through Luke’s hair. “I hoped you felt the same way.
Luke can’t help it. His face splits into a huge grin and he kisses Din again, moving his fingers through Din’s hair, savoring the feeling of the soft strands under his touch. He only pulls back when he’s breathless but stays close to Din, even if the position is awkward. He doesn’t ever want to move away.
“Luke?” Din murmurs after a few seconds, tucking a stray strand behind Luke’s ear. “Join me?” Luke blinks his eyes open and looks down at Din, noticing the space he made in bed for Luke. He opens his mouth to object—Din is injured and the bed is already too small for one person—but Din is looking at him so hopefully that he finds himself nodding. He slips into the bed, his body completely flushed with Din’s, and easily tucks himself under Din’s chin. His whole body melts into the embrace when Din’s arm snakes around him and his lips press into his hair.
Luke is close enough to falling asleep when Din speaks up again. “You know,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing Luke’s back, cheek pressed against Luke’s hair, “if you were really worried about breaking my creed, we could get married. Clan is allowed to see my face.”
Luke’s eyes snap open. He looks up at Din, eyes wide. “Is that a proposal?” he asks, his voice entirely too thin for his liking. The corners of Din’s eyes crinkles as he laughs.
“I’m joking,” he murmurs, kissing Luke’s forehead again. “I don’t mind you seeing my face.” His lips move to Luke’s nose. “As long as I get to kiss you.” Then they find Luke’s lips, and Luke forgets whatever Din said.
Three months later, when Din proposes again, Luke doesn’t even hesitate before he says yes.