I don't know how to feel regarding this work. I'm not that deep in the SW fandom, since I've only watched the series and the last three movies of the original six. But, with the help of my memories of watching the movies together with my dad when I was little, my shipping goggles, Ao3 and a glass of wine, this baby was born.
Luke is a disaster gay who lost all dignity when he met a hot dad, Din is clueless and Grogu just wants his dads together and happy. And Leia wants a break from her brother's drama.
The call comes when Luke least expects it, and he nearly chokes on his spoon, if it weren't for Leia. It's a weak connection, tentative at best, with lots of images instead of words. The child is small, but talented, offering up images of eras long gone, of an all-consuming darkness that makes his chest ache and the warmth and safety of a father, of blinding hope and biting worry.
He's barely up from his seat when the connection cuts out, and he's left with a bitter aftertaste of horror and an urgency that settles deep in his bones. The child is worried, about himself and the safety of his father, and is uncertain if his father will be enough to solve the problem this time.
"Artoo, get ready. We're going on a mission!" He sprints to his room, nearly tripping in his own feet as Leia follows him, worried.
"What's going on?"
"A child reached out to me!" He tells her, ecstatic even in the dire situation. His clothes are flying out of the closet, and he curses when he can't find his boots. "And I'm going to save him and his father!"
"Do you even know where they are?" She hands him the boots when he slumps on the ground, defeated and clutching his cloak. He nods in thanks, rushes to pull them on, then runs out the door, his lightsaber flying after him when he remembers he left it on the nightstand.
"A cruiser, I think. But I'll let the force lead me to them!"
"Won't you need a bigger ship?" She yells after him, but Luke shakes his head, waving at Threepio when he reaches the front door. He's pretty sure the father had a ship.
The child's – Grogu – father is a Mandalorian. A very heavily armed Mandalorian, clad in beskar from head to toe with a deep voice and Luke feels his knees grow weak. Grogu toddles forward, offering him images of the man defeating stormtroopers and various creatures all across the universe. Was that a kriffing krayt dragon? The man was insane. And apparently the new ruler of Mandalore. Leia was going to kill him.
Then the man takes off his helmet and Luke short-circuits. His mind goes blank, fancy speech forgotten. He has to stomp down on his urge to flirt. He had more self control than this. He wasn't Han. He wasn't Han, but the man was so handsome and brave and mysterious and powerful and – kriff.
Artoo pokes him in the leg when the elevator doors close, and he nearly drops the kid. The droids starts berating him, but Luke feels like he's underwater.
"What do you mean I didn't introduce myself?" Grogu blinks up at him, shaking his head softly, and Luke feels like the ground has been pulled out from under his feet. He was so screwed.
"Let me get this straight," Han tells him, hands clasped together under his chin, Chewie nodding along to the conversation while also trying to keep his hair out of Grogu's mouth. "You went to save a random child because he called you through the Force, found out his father happens to be the new king of Mandalore, got so star-struck you forgot how to speak, then walked away with the kid?"
"That's it."
"Did turning around never occur to you, kid? You weren't off the ship when you remembered it!"
"Well, I-" He could feel his ears turn pink, amusement thick in the air around him. Even Grogu looked like he was laughing at him.
"You didn't want to ruin your dramatic exit? Just remember to notify me in advance before you decide to tell Leia. I want to be out of the way while also having a nice view of everything. And don't worry, Chewie, I'll be recording it!"
It takes the Mandalorian two months to find them, without any of his family ever meeting the man. Although he's not certain on that part. Han did know a lot of people. And to make matters even worse? Luke didn't even sense him approaching, so he had no time to change. He was certain meeting royalty in sweaty workout clothes was an offense somewhere. But did the man even care about that?
Grogu is the first to notice the Mandalorian, toddling over to a nondescript part of the clearing, arms raised and babbling excitedly. There are images of his father flooding his mind, the heady, and almost flowery, feelings of joy and love radiating from him in waves. For a moment, Luke is crushed, then the Mandalorian walks into the clearing, riffle missing from his back.
"Hey there, kiddo." His voice is soft and warmth engulfs everything, making Luke's heart stutter. Even with the helmet, he can feel how his expression softens, pulling Grogu close to his chest. Was it too soon to ask for his hand in marriage? Would that cause an intergalactic incident?
Leia takes one look at him and starts laughing. Luke ducks his head, trying to hide his blush. The air is thick again with amusement, Grogu also joining Leia in her laughter.
"How much until I can call you 'your highness?" She asks, and he throws a pillow at her head, growling in irritation.
"Never."
"Oh, honey. You couldn't talk to him?" Leia pats him on the shoulders while Grogu climbs into her lap, squealing in affirmation. "It's been months!"
"Don't even start." He groans, and Grogu pats his arm in encouragement. "I wish I had a helmet when your dad comes around."
"Mando?" He asks, rushing forward when said man nearly falls out of his ship. Mando groans into his shoulder and Luke winces when his hand comes away sticky, the metallic scent of blood nearly overcoming the cloudy press of worry.
"I'm fine…" He tries to step away from him, but sways, nearly falling over. Luke curses, sending Leia a mental message to keep Grogu busy for a while.
"No, you're not. Now, come on. My sister is keeping your son busy. And you're heavy."
Taking care of a Mandalorian turns out to be a hassle. First, taking off his armour is nigh impossible without dislodging his helmet. Then, maneuvering him around so Luke can treat his wounds and the man is also comfortable is like playing chess against Leia. And finally, muscles and uncovered skin. A wast spread of tanned skin, littered with various scars and so warm to the touch is now offered up to Luke, and he's certain there's drool covering his shirt.
Mando moves his hand, muscles flexing under his touch and he can't stop the noise that escapes his lips. He looks back at him, and Luke feels his ears and cheeks turn red. He stares pointedly at his hands, trying to ignore that those are currently on the source of all his problems.
"Are you okay?"
"I should be asking you that," he responds, and Mando huffs at him, turning back around with a groan and…Luke has a job. Yes, a very important job. A job he should get back to. Any minute now.
"I'm telling you, Leia, I'm doomed. Doomed!" He tells his sister, voice muffled by his sheets. His sister laughs at him, ever so helpful, then goes back to reading her reports.
"Just tell him you like him. At least he'll know things for sure."
"Like that's so easy. I'll take any Death Star or Emperor over this."
"Don't be so dramatic," he could feel her wince. They were Skywalkers, after all. Being dramatic was like a family trait for them.
"Little too late for that."
"At least look on the bright side of things. He's still in the same area as you and still lets you teach his son. And with that armour of his, you two are a match made by the Force!"
"Go kriff yourself."
"Din Djarin. My name is Din Djarin," the Mandalorian, Din, tells him when Luke finished changing his bandages, his wrist caught in the man's grasp. Luke freezes, then slowly lifts his head to look the man in his visor.
"Nice to meet you, Din." Din chuckles softly at that, finger softly moving across his skin. It's warm, pleasant and Luke dares to glance into his feelings. It's warm, leaving him breathless, lust pooling across his insides like the heavy rainfalls of Yaniv, his vision blurring around the edges. He moves his other hand to cup the side of Din's helmet, leaning forward until their foreheads met.
"Nice to meet you too, Luke," his voice was low, a little stilted when he accidentally pulled at his wounds. There was a hand on his waist, touch heavy and grounding. Maybe this would end up okay? Was this his happy ending? He hoped so.