Archive of Our Own

“They’re lovely,” Luke said, and if the pleasure in his voice seemed genuine, his brow furrowed slightly in consternation. Din shrugged uncomfortably, because what was he supposed to do—bring a gift for the kids and nothing for their teacher?

He felt a moment’s gladness for the fact that he’d already re-donned his helmet; at least Luke wouldn’t be able to read the embarrassment on his face.

“They reminded me of that cloak you wear,” Din said slowly, by way of explanation, and Luke looked at him curiously. The dark lining of the gloves Din had given him looked soft against the pale flesh of his hand in the midafternoon light. It was a hand long lined with the calluses of training, and Din would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered what it would feel like to trace those capable fingers with his own. “I thought they might be fitting for the winters.” The greenery and warmth as they stood just outside the door of Luke’s small home made snow and sleet seem very far away, but all things came in time.

Luke gently folded the gloves and tucked them into his belt with a smile, and Din felt a spark of relief at the acceptance of this gift. He hadn’t meant to give offense, and he didn’t quite think he had, but there was something in Luke’s puzzlement that made him a little uncertain.

“They’re a very welcome gift,” Luke said easily, all trace of surprise gone, and Din relaxed a little further. “They’ll come in very useful. Thank you, Din.”

“It was no problem,” Din said automatically, and it hadn’t been, really. He’d come across the gloves by happenstance in the market on Batuu, his satchel already heavy with treats and baked goods for Luke’s odd collection of apprentices. He still wasn’t quite sure why it had suddenly seemed so important, except that it had struck him to wonder: amidst everything Luke gave to his charges, amidst everything he’d done for Grogu, who was looking after Luke? “I’ll…I’ll see you around.”

Luke smiled again, because they both knew it would be just a month or two at most before Din felt the drive to return. It certainly wasn’t that he didn’t trust Luke with Grogu, but it was nice to see the kid’s progress for himself. “You know you’re welcome any time.”

They were words Luke said every time Din was here, and the thing that always struck him the most was—

—Luke always seemed to mean it.

Din found himself back on Yavin a few weeks later, and he hadn’t really intended to bring another gift for Luke, but the small woven blanket had been threaded through with shades of green that reminded him of the forests around Luke’s school. It had seemed a shame not to at least show it to him, so Din had haggled the price down to something he could afford and rolled the blanket into his pack alongside the treats he’d purchased for the kids.

When Luke spread the blanket out on his kitchen table, his fingers carefully traced patterns along its surface. It was a good colour for him, green—it just looked right, somehow. The sight of him here, his fingers burying themselves in verdant threads, made something pull tight within Din’s chest.

Luke looked up, and there it was again—that faint strand of confusion in his eyes and in the handsome set of his face—but Din determinedly set it aside to focus in on the warm glow of delight in his smile.

It was, he thought, a great deal brighter than the sun.

It became a habit, after that; every planet he visited, Din had his eye out not only for small gifts for the kids, but always for Luke as well. A new simple belt for his robes, a small collection of sweets, a tiny carved figurine of a bird in flight that made Din think of the whisper birds nesting in the trees outside Luke’s windows—there seemed to be no end of small or useful things he could bring to draw out that smile again.

And if Luke always looked like there might be a question hidden somewhere behind that smile, well, one thing Din had learned over the months of their acquaintance was that Luke was a curious man.

It was almost a year after that first gift, as they sat comfortably into the night, when Luke finally broached the subject. The small drawstring pouch Din had given him that evening still sat in his lap, and Luke absentmindedly twisted the strings between his fingers.

“So,” Luke said cautiously, as if unsure quite how to phrase what he wanted to ask. Finally, he seemed to decide to just jump right in. “On some planets, these gifts would be seen as courting gifts.”

And that—well that wasn’t what Din had been expecting Luke to say at all. He could feel the flush that rose to his face, a bright furnace of heat flaring out along his cheekbones. For the first time in months around this man, Din almost found himself wishing for the anonymity of his helmet.

“Ah,” he said, and then fell silent, suddenly very aware of how small the table between them really was. It was just wide enough that they couldn’t touch, but far too small to prove any defense against the sudden pounding of his own heart.

“That’s not what they are, is it?” Luke asked, and his face was carefully neutral, but Din—

Din remembered the pleasure and enjoyment on Luke’s face at each gift, and the way he so carefully held them, and the way his smiles ignited something in Din’s own veins.

So instead of a simple, awkward “no,” he took a deep breath and asked a question of his own instead.

“Do you want them to be?”

Luke shrugged, and his teeth worried at his lower lip, but he surveyed Din calmly in the soft light that held the night at bay. Finally, he spoke, and Din hadn’t even realized until that moment that he’d been holding his breath. “I would still have accepted them if they were, yes.”

“Then from now on—” Din stopped for a moment to clear his throat, but he made sure his eyes never wavered from Luke’s face. They didn’t want to, anyway; he didn’t think he wanted to miss a moment of Luke’s response. “From now on, they could be.”

And Luke's smile—

—it was brighter than any Din had ever seen.