Din woke to the warm light of the desert suns filtering through the room's large windows, his face tucked into Boba's chest, one of Boba's arms around his shoulders. He lifted his head slightly, squinting into the bright light.

Boba stirred, one of his arms thrown over his eyes, and grunted sleepily. "Din?"

Din flopped back onto Boba's chest, closing his eyes against the bright morning light and tucking his nose against Boba's collarbone. Boba's heartbeat thudded steadily against his cheek, slow and reassuring.

Boba wrapped both arms around Din's waist, cuddling him close. Din sighed contentedly at the touch, curling his fingers around Boba's hip. Boba pressed a soft kiss to Din's hair, his arms strong and secure around Din's waist. Din wriggled closer, tucking his toes against Boba's calves.

"Morning." Boba murmured, his voice raspy with sleep. Din shifted a little, lifting his head to look up at Boba.

"Morning." Din smiled, blinking sleep out of his eyes.

Boba smiled back, the corners of his eyes crinkling fondly. He leaned down and kissed Din gently, his stubble rasping against Din's cheek. Din kissed him back eagerly, sighing happily against Boba's lips, and curled his fingers tighter around Boba's hip. Boba let go of Din's waist to wind a hand in Din's hair, scratching his scalp gently. Din hummed against Boba's lips, leaning further into the kiss. Boba's lips were warm, his fingers strong and gentle in Din's hair.

Pleasure sang in Din's veins, fizzled in his belly, up his spine. His chest felt tight with wild happiness, his skin tingling with warmth in all the places Boba's body touched his, the gentle desert breeze tickling the back of his neck.

It was so - good, unlike anything Din had ever felt before. With Vik it had been hurried sex in dark corners of the covert, Vik's wandering, impatient hands on his body the moment they were alone. Before that, as a teenager, there had been friendly exploration with the other apprentices, eager yet clumsy touching. Saira guiding a blushing Din's hands to her chest, telling him shyly where to touch and how, Bez straddling him after sparring practice, chest heaving as he ground their hips together. Oskar and Bez, getting each other off in the dark corners of the forge as Din watched, half aroused and half terrified at the prospect of the armorer's return. Paz and Wira, unable to keep their hands off each other, to the point that the armorer, exasperated with their habit of tearing each other's armor off in full view of the entire covert, threatened to throw them in one of Nevarro's nearby lava fields.

The exploration in Din's youth had been just that - behavior typical of young apprentices exploring their bodies. It had been innocent, in a way - teenage attraction, burgeoning sexuality that could be safely explored within the tribe, among their fellow peers. It had been friendly sex, but not much more than that. None of them developed anything beyond that, not even Paz and Wira, whose wildly passionate sexual chemistry slowly fizzled out into a close but entirely platonic friendship.

Din's short-lived relationship with Vik had been a little different - it had happened only a few years ago, after all, when Din was no longer a naive apprentice but an accomplished bounty hunter. Their secretive meetings had been primarily about the physical, about Vik's wants and desires, and when that was no longer enough for Din it had fallen apart.

Din had never woken up in someone's arms before, had never felt this easy companionship with anyone else.

The thought that Boba liked him back, that Boba wanted him, wanted to be by Din's side, even if that meant just lazy kissing, or simple companionship, made Din's heart beat faster in his chest. He felt as if he floated on air, as if he could soar high into the sky with no jet pack, fueled only by the happiness bright in his chest.

Emotion made tears prick in his eyes, made his fingers tremble, his throat feel tight. He made a thin sound in the back of his throat, dizzy and unbalanced by that feeling of weightlessness. Boba hummed reassuringly against his lips, nipping softly at Din's lower lip. Din sighed, pleasure tingling in his spine, and reached up to wrap his arms around Boba's neck as best he could to pull him even closer to Din, eager to feel the warmth of Boba's skin. Boba let himself be pulled further into the kiss, tightening his grip minutely on Din's hair.

They continued kissing for a few minutes, lazy and slow, until Boba finally pulled away, letting Din tuck his face against his chest. Din threw an arm back around Boba's waist and placed the other on Boba's belly, enjoying the feel of the thickly padded muscle flexing under Din's fingertips.

"Sleep all right?" Boba asked, a little breathless.

"Hm." Din agreed, pressing his cheek into Boba's chest, reveling at the feeling of Boba's wiry chest hair tickling his cheek. Boba's heartbeat thumped a little faster against his ear, proof that Boba was just as affected by this as he was. He had to contort his body a little to make the position comfortable, squirming until his feet nearly hung off the end of the bed, his knees pressed to Boba's calves. He tucked his nose against Boba's collarbone, Boba's chest heaving underneath his ear as they both caught their breath.

He felt Boba smile in his hair as he kissed the top of Din's head. "Good."

They lay there for a few minutes, content to cuddle for a few more minutes as Tatooine's suns rose higher in the sky, the air growing warmer. Gradually, the gentle morning light gave way to hot daylight, the light warmth of the blankets suddenly oppressive, Boba's warm body beneath his own now clammy and hot. Sweat trickled down Din's neck, his limbs tingling with unpleasant heat as the day began in earnest.

Din peeled his face off of Boba's chest reluctantly, sighing. He felt uncomfortably warm now, the heat of the suns a reminder that he couldn't laze around in bed all day.

He rolled over and sat at the edge of Boba's bed, mourning the loss of skin contact despite how sweaty he felt.

Boba swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his arms above his head with a faint groan. "Hungry?" He asked.

Din shrugged.

"I'll go to the kitchens." Boba said, standing. He disappeared into the fresher, returning a moment later with a clean black robe.

Din watched, blushing, as Boba took off his sleep clothes and folded them neatly on the bed, his muscles rippling in the morning light. Boba put on the robe, and slung his gaderffi across his back. He saw Din watching and grinned playfully, teeth flashing.

"See something you like?"

Din blushed fiercely, his ears bright red. Boba leaned in and kissed him, hot and fierce, stealing Din's breath away. Din reached up and twisted his hands in Boba's robes, swaying closer to the warmth of Boba's body.

Boba broke the kiss a moment later, grinning at Din's grunt of dismay.

"Patience, Din'ika." He teased, reaching for his boots and pulling them on.

Din watched him shyly, his cheeks warm. Boba smiled at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Be right back." He promised, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Din's cheek. "Want something in particular?"

Din shook his head. "Anything's fine."

"All right." Boba kissed his cheek again and turned towards the lift. Din watched him go, the doors closing behind him with a soft chime as the lift carried Boba down to the palace kitchens.

Din stood with a groan, stretching with his arms above his head, and walked into the fresher. It was a small space, with a sink against one wall and a water shower on the other. Din eyed it curiously, impressed. Few people could afford water showers on a desert planet like Tatooine, and sonic showers were far more common. Jabba's old palace was one of the few places Din had ever seen a water shower on this planet of moisture farmers who toiled all day just to fill a shallow tank with water. Even traveling system to system as a solitary hunter, Din had rarely seen one. Between jobs, he had crammed into the Razor Crest's tiny sonic shower, often banging his head against the wall as he tried to clean his hair. In the covert they frequently bathed in nearby rivers and streams, or if there were no bodies of water available, a few mechanically inclined members of the tribe would set up a private sonic shower and they would all line up in front of the stall, chatting amongst themselves as they waited. Water showers were a luxury that Din rarely got to enjoy, and the sight of one sent a thrill through his veins.

Unbidden, his brain supplied him an image of Boba in that shower, water droplets dripping down the strong lines of his body, accentuating his broad chest and solid thighs, his brown skin shimmering in the soft morning light. Blushing, Din tore his gaze away from the shower and padded out of the room, ignoring the sudden heat burning in his stomach. He dressed quickly, putting on his flight suit and armor, snapping each piece into place as the morning suns rose higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the palace. The promise of heat prickled in the air as Mos Espa began to stir to life in the distance, the various sounds of the early morning echoing across the vast sands. Din tucked his helmet under his elbow and stood in front of the window for a long moment, watching as the day began in earnest.

A soft chime alerted him to Boba's arrival, the lift opening behind him.

"Hungry?" Boba asked.

Din turned, smiling. "A little." He admitted, watching as Boba set a tray loaded with various dishes on the worktable. His stomach growled in agreement.

Boba smiled back and sat down on one side of the table, swinging his legs over the bench. "Good. I didn't know what you'd like, so I got a few options."

"That's fine." Din assured him, sitting down on the other side to face Boba and setting his helmet on the table beside him. He took off his handguards and gloves, setting them on the table beside him. "Thank you."

Boba inclined his head, and set a cup in front of Din. "Tea?" He offered, picking up a small clay teapot.

"I - yes, thank you." Din blushed as Boba poured him a cup of tea, the smell smoky and herbal, like one of the various morning teas brewed by Tusken grandmothers over a desert fire.

"It's no trouble." Boba assured him, sounding pleased. He set a plate in front of Din and loaded it with a variety of foods. There were curds of bantha cheese and thick, crusty bread, lentil stew, a little cup of bantha yoghurt topped with sticky dried fruits and crunchy seeds, and even a sweet, flaky pastry.

He handed Din a spoon and nodded towards the plate before beginning to fill his own plate. "Eat up."

Din blushed again, but took the spoon and scooped up some stew. He made this for me. He thought, oddly touched by the thought of Boba in the kitchens, meticulously choosing foods that he thought Din would like.

He did all of this for me. The weightless feeling of flying grew in his chest, giddy happiness spreading to his toes, the tips of his fingers.

Shyly avoiding Boba's gaze, Din took a bite. The stew was spicy and filling, a pleasant heat that made Din hum happily as he dug his spoon in again.

Boba chuckled, scooping some stew on his plate. "Good?"

"Hm." Din agreed, taking a bite of the yoghurt, a burst of sweetness that complimented the heat of the stew surprisingly well.

"I didn't realize your kitchen was so well equipped."

He said, taking another bite of the stew.

Boba smiled. "I hired a Tusken cook, once Fennec and I got settled here. A good boss should feed his people properly, don't you think? Besides, I've always liked Tusken food."

Din nodded, taking a bite of the pastry, the soft flakes melting on his tongue. "I stayed with a Tusken tribe for a while, a few years back." He explained, taking a long sip of tea. "I was injured on a hunt. A few warriors found me bleeding out in the desert, took me back to their camp."

"Is that how you learned Tusken sign?" Boba asked, taking a bite of stew.

Din nodded. "And some spoken Tusken. They patched me up, taught me the language. Some of their songs."

If he closed his eyes, he could still hear those haunting melodies, low Tusken voices echoing across the desert. A crackling fire, gray smoke spiraling up into the night sky, the cool desert wind an eerie whistle.

"Which tribe?" Boba asked curiously. He took a sip of tea, his eyes watching Din over the rim of his cup.

"The Dancing Krayt." Din replied, wrapping his hands around his own cup, steam curling in the air. "They found me near their hunting grounds in the northern deserts."

Din had woken up in a Tusken camp, remembering almost nothing after collapsing in the middle of the desert, his bounty having escaped after managing a lucky shot. Later, as he lay there in the tent, weak and unable to move, he remembered pieces, confused images. Blurry faces hovering over him, sturdy hands lifting him and carrying him to a large bantha waiting nearby. Sweating under his beskar, half delirious with pain, the desert sands swaying below him as they traveled. Din had spent weeks recovering from his injury, during which he had spent many evenings at their fire, a cup of medicinal tea in his hands as he listened to the stories and songs of the Dancing Krayt, mesmerized.

"The Black Bantha took me in, after the sarlacc." Boba said softly, looking down at his plate.

Sorrow flooded his expression, pain etched onto each line of his face. Din fought the urge to shove his bench back and rush to Boba's side, to gather Boba up in his arms, to kiss him senseless.

"They adopted me as one of their own." Boba continued, his tone heavy. "And they died because of it."

"I'm sorry." Din said softly. He let go of his cup and reached across the table, taking one of Boba's hands, twining their fingers together.

Boba looked up at him, smiling sadly. "Shand tells me I'll get used to it, move on, with time."

"I don't know." Din said truthfully. "I - maybe she's right. Maybe some people do. But - I -" He swallowed, his throat aching as sudden grief hit him squarely in the chest.

He was suddenly hyper aware of the warm breeze on his neck, of the bright sunlight on his face, of Boba's eyes watching him, carefully tracking his expression. He wished suddenly that he was wearing his helmet, his fingers twitching in Boba's grip as he fought the urge to jam it over his head.

It's fine. Din told himself, taking a shallow breath. It's fine.

Boba squeezed his fingers, his grip reassuringly warm and solid. "No." He said quietly. "I haven't either."

Din inhaled sharply, pushing away the overwhelming thoughts of the Creed, of the loss of his tribe, his people.

I'm an apostate. He thought, sudden grief aching in his chest. I'll always be an apostate, now. I can - I should take the helmet off for good.

He wished fleetingly for the peace of the early morning, the ease he had found sleeping in Boba's arms, waking up in Boba's bed, not thinking of the covert or the armorer or the Creed. Now it was all he could think about, Boba's gaze as sharp as a knife, whittling Din down to the bone.

Din looked away, swallowing. The feeling of Boba's eyes was suddenly unbearable, his skin itching underneath the weight of it.

"Din?" Boba asked, watching him carefully.

"I'm fine." Din said, clearing his throat. He tried to suppress the panic that threatened to take hold, focusing on the pressure of Boba's hand in his, on the warm morning on his face.

"You don't look fine." Boba said bluntly. "Do you - would it help, to put your helmet back on?"

Din turned to look at him, startled. Boba's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

"What -" Din cut himself off, blinking in confusion.

Boba offered him a crooked smile, squeezing his hand gently. "Does it make you uncomfortable, taking the helmet off?"

"I - a little." Din admitted, his stomach clenching with shame. I should be better. He thought. I'm an apostate. I should be able to take off my helmet around my - around Boba.

Boba squeezed his hand again. "Then put it on, if you want. If that's what you need."

"But - don't you want me to take it off?" Din asked, thoroughly confused now. Boba had said - last night he'd said that he'd wanted to kiss Din, that he'd been thinking about it for some time, surely that meant he expected Din to show his face for good?

"I want you to feel comfortable and safe." Boba said gently. "If putting your helmet on helps, I won't judge."

"I - I want to take it off." Din said slowly. "I don't - I'm not Mandalorian anymore, I shouldn't - I don't need to follow the Creed, not - not all the time. But maybe - maybe sometimes?" He looked at Boba a little helplessly, feeling unbalanced, desperate.

Boba nodded, stroking Din's knuckle soothingly with a calloused thumb. "Wear it, don't wear it - it's your choice, Din. No one can make that decision for you."

No one can decide for me. The thought was enormous, overwhelming. The idea that he could choose what part of the Creed to follow, and how - a year ago Din would've considered it to be nothing less than blasphemy. But now - now I've been cast out of the tribe. Now the armorer had refused him the chance of redemption, of forgiveness. I have to make my own path now.

"I think - I want to take it off, sometimes, just not -" Not all the time.

Boba nodded, as if hearing his unspoken thought. "Okay."

He let go of Din's hand and picked up the helmet where it sat on the table, wordlessly offering it to Din.

Din took the helmet and looked down at its expressionless visor. Wrestling with himself, his tangled emotions twisting in his chest, he turned it around in his hands, the beskar cool against his skin. Pushing down the feeling that he should throw his armor into the sands, that he should take it off for good and disappear, Din jammed the helmet on his head, exhaling in relief despite himself.

Boba smiled at him, his expression a little lighter, the tension in his face easing. "Better?"

"Yeah." Din said honestly, taking a few measured breaths. It did feel better to have put the helmet back on, to have a barrier between him and the outside world, keeping the panic at bay.

You have no right to that armor, not anymore. A voice in his head that sounded very much like the armorer reproached him.

It's mine. He thought fiercely, blinking as his vision adjusted to the helmet's light settings. I earned it. So maybe - maybe it's all right to wear it sometimes, when I want to. When I choose to wear it.

Boba left it at that, turning back to his plate. Din followed his lead, tipping back the lip of his helmet to eat, tugging it back down as he chewed. They ate in companionable silence, the only sound the soft clinking of silverware.

After they'd both cleared their plates, Boba stood from the table with a faint groan. Din watched as he crossed the room to the armor rack and began armoring up for the day.

"So, any - any jobs that need doing today?" Din asked, feeling oddly sheepish.

Boba shrugged, buckling his chest plate into place over his robes. "Things have been quiet since we took care of Bane. Fennec and I have been busy consolidating power in Mos Espa, cleaning up the city, holding court."

"Anything I can do?" Din asked.

Boba gave him an affectionate, if exasperated, smile. "Ready for work so soon?"

"I like to stay busy." Din said firmly. "And - " He hesitated, unsure.

What if he doesn't want to work together anymore? Boba knew he was an apostate, now. He knew that Din had broken his word, that he was no longer a Mandalorian. What if he no longer wanted a dishonored warrior, an outcast, in his court?

Din swallowed past his nerves, doubts swirling in his head. "I - I'd like to join the outfit. If - if you'll have me."

Boba rolled his eyes and set down the thigh plate he was holding and crossed the room in several long strides, half-armored. He took one of Din's hands in both of his, and pressed a soft kiss to his palm, sending a shiver down Din's spine.

"Din'ika." Boba said softly, his expression so gentle it almost hurt to look at. "I meant what I said. You have a place here, at my side."

Din swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Okay."

"Okay." Boba repeated, his eyes warm and fond, kissing Din's palm again. "I'm holding court in an hour. Care to join me? I could use a bodyguard."

Din smiled behind his helmet, his heart dancing in his chest. "I'd be happy to."