Chapter Text
The first time it happened was on Tatooine, while he was in the middle of negotiating for a new ship.
Bo-Katan had insisted that he take a Mandalorian ship, as was “fitting” for him, her reluctance over the fact that he had accidentally earned the right to the throne pouring out of every word. He told her he would if she just took the damn Darksaber already, only to be met with staunch silence. It was what led him to leaving the (former) Imperial Cruiser with Fett and Shand, going back to the hated dust pile and Peli Motto, the mechanic that had helped him with the Razor Crest twice now. He took his well deserved tongue lashing over the fate of his ship, though it quickly dissolved into a mournful silence when she asked where the little womp rat was.
Though he questioned if he still had any right to his armor, now that he broke the creed twice now, Din Djarin was grateful for his helmet. He did not need others seeing him still coming to near tears over a loss that felt the same as death.
She put him in touch with a few ship sellers, people that dealt with Pre- and Early Empire craft. He was not confident he would find another gunship like the Razor Crest, seeing as most ships from the Clone Wars era and earlier were few and far between these days, but he wanted to hope.
The message that unexpectedly came in over his wrist com while the current seller was trying to hype up one of the pieces of junk he had for sale was in text, from a code he did not recognize.
he funny
Din frowned at the message, confused. It did not make sense, and the shady salesman was trying to get his attention, so he quickly dismissed it.
The second time was in the middle of nowhere, when the piece of junk Corellian hauler he had settled on unexpectedly dropped out of hyperspace. He was busily grumbling under his breath, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with the hyperdrive and hoping he could get it functioning, to the point he almost missed the chime from his com. It was text again, from the same number, and the message on it was just as strange as the last.
makes crunchy tea good
Din let out a sight, detaching his com and setting it aside, not wanting to deal with a wrong number at the moment.
The third time was when he finally got the clunker to Nevarro, and Greef Karga was mourning the loss of the Razor Crest and the kid he spoiled like a grandson when the com went off. Din let out a tired sigh, waving it off when his old boss asked if he would take it. He waited until he finished negotiating repairs, before reading the strange text message.
he nice you like
Din rolled his eyes skyward under his helmet, finally sending a message back.
Think you have the wrong number, pal.
He was about to head to the local cantina, hoping to pick up something to eat in peace, and not expecting another message. The com went off just as he was about to enter, and Din cursed loudly, snapping his wrist com up, only to freeze solid. The message this time was much more coherent, and…
I’m sorry. Grogu must have gotten a hold of my com.
Din stared at the message, not sure what to say or even do. He probably should have just left it at that, right? The little guy was with his kind, and as much as he wanted to see him again already, it was… probably too soon. He probably should… leave them alone.
Is this the Jedi?
He had the message typed out and sent before he could second guess himself for the umpteenth time, knowing that he was just fooling himself if he seriously thought he was just going to leave things be now that he had a link back to the kid. The reply was not immediate, giving him time to sit down and order food in the space it took for the response to come.
Yes.
I’m sorry I was short with you before.
You can call me Luke.
Just Luke, hunh? Mr. Jedi-no-last-name? Din was not sure if the guy was being deliberately vague and mysterious, or if he just did not realize he was doing it. Maybe with the Jedi stuff he just did not trust him enough to be more elaborate. Even Ahsoka’s response to him had been to attack first and ask questions never, and he had not seen her take out an entire platoon of murder droids single handedly.
If he’s stealing your com, he must be doing okay.
Part of him kind of hoped the kid was giving the Jedi a hard time, if only because it was fair he drove his new caretaker crazy too. His food arrived by the time the answer came in, and he could not help but beam under his helmet.
He’s a handful. My droid has had to go chasing after him more than once.
“That’s my little womp rat,” he murmured to himself, about to tip his helmet up enough to sip at the broth he ordered, when another message came in.
He misses you, Din.
Oh that just was not fair. He fought with himself for the better part of a minute, wanting to say so many things, but hesitating, fearful of sounding desperate and clingy. He had been tasked with ensuring the child was safe with his kind, and he did that; so why did it feel like he still failed?
When can I see him again?
He regretted sending that as soon as he pushed the button, knowing that the response was going to be “never”. A huff escaped from his mouth, turning his focus back on his food, when the expected denial came in.
Well, not quite a denial.
We are on Lothal at the moment investigating the ruins. You are welcome to stop in if you’re in the area.
Lothal… that was not anywhere close to Nevarro. He realized he would make it closer the moment he started guzzling down his broth, barely remembering to shove his helmet all the way down when he stood.
I’ll be there.
~.oOOo.~
A loud bang came from somewhere behind him, but Din ignored it. He could get someone on planet to deal with whatever that was; right now, he had coordinates to find, and he angled the ship toward the planet, trying not to be worried by the noticeable temperature increase as he breached the atmosphere. He was flying over rolling grassy hills in the next moment, realizing he was out in the middle of nowhere, on a planet that was basically nowhere. He half expected to nearly miss a little cottage or something of the kind in the middle of the grassy sprawl, so when he ended up rolling up on an X-wing parked next to a massive pile of rubble, it was a bit of a shock.
Carefully, he set his clunker down on the ground next to the starfighter, a faint hissing noise coming from somewhere that he resolutely ignored, powering down the ship before heading out. It was cooler outside than he would have thought, and he found himself pausing, allowing his gaze to drift over the X-wing. It was not as nice as the newer ships, even the ones that patrolled the Outer Rim; it looked old as hell, and had clearly seen military use, as he could see a kill counter next to a giant circle. His eyes drifted over to the rubble next, noting the clear signs of excavation, with wooden supports holding up a tunnel to the inside. It looked like the kind of work that a team would take weeks to accomplish, but…
Well, if Grogu could call a ball to his hand with what training he had, what would a fully trained Jedi be able to do?
He let out a breath, bracing himself, before heading into the temple ruins. The air was a bit stale, like the place had only just recently been opened up to the outside. It was even cooler inside, and he swore he felt… something. Not foreboding or anything bad, just that he was setting foot on something sacred that he had no business intruding on. He almost turned around and went back, part of him thinking it would be better to wait up top than disturb the sanctity of this place…
But he really wanted to see Grogu again.
Din finally made it to the bottom, scanning the dimly lit ruins. The first thing he noticed were blinking lights, and it took him a moment to recognize the blue and white barrel body of the astromech that had been with the Jedi. The head of the droid swiveled toward him, and Din felt the familiar churn of fear in his gut. It was still there, as he imagined it always would be, though IG-11’s aid and later sacrifice made it easier to deal with. He squashed the feeling down, approaching the droid, though he stopped short when he let out a faint boop, his head swiveling back around.
Din followed the droid’s gaze, spotting the Jedi and Grogu sitting some distance away, eyes closed and sitting so very still, almost like they were sleeping. After seeing what the kid had done on Tython, he did not think they were actually sleeping, but… these Jedi things were weird, and he was pretty sure he was never going to understand it outside of sometimes they could make things float and could create barriers and could mow down third generation Dark Troopers without breaking a sweat.
“Jedi thing, got it,” he murmured, settling himself on the ground as quietly as his armor would allow, and waited.
He was not sure how much time had passed before Grogu finally moved, letting out a sad noise as he reached up with tiny hands to rub at his face. Instinct kicked in almost immediately, and Din very nearly leapt to his feet, ready to scoop the kid up and rock him until the tears stopped. The Jedi was moving before he could, however, reaching his arms out for the kid. Din watched as Grogu tottered over to him, allowing himself to be picked up and hugged tight, his big ears sticking up around the Jedi’s shoulder as a tiny hand clung to his arm.
“I’m sorry, Grogu,” the Jedi murmured softly, rocking him back and forth gently. “I know it hurts.”
A sad noise escaped from the kid that made Din’s heart ache. In the next moment, he saw the kid’s ears suddenly perk up, his tiny head peering over the Jedi’s shoulder and staring right at him. He was scrambling up the Jedi in the next moment, leading to him letting out a completely undignified squeak as Grogu launched himself off his shoulder. Din might have raised an eyebrow at that, maybe even comment on the noise, but the kid was literally flying toward him, and he had to get his hands up to catch him before he splattered against his armor.
“O-okay, that’s new,” he managed to get out as Grogu let out a happy coo, his hand reaching for his helmet. Din found himself hesitating, before a hand reached up to remove it, earning himself another happy noise as his bare face was revealed. Grogu flailed for him, nuzzling up against his scruff once Din cuddled him close enough, a tiny hand holding onto his chin.
A shadow fell over him, and Din glanced up to see the Jedi had come over, a serene smile on his face as he watched the two of them. The smile did not seem to reach his eyes though, a sadness there that he could not quite put his finger on.
“It’s just about time for dinner,” he began. “Are you hungry, Din?”
Grogu pulled away at the mention of dinner, letting out a happy noise as he tugged at Din’s face, like he was insisting he had to eat. Din flinched, figuring he did not have much of a choice, and he nodded as he carefully got to his feet, the kid clinging the entire way back up to the open air.
It was not long before Din found himself seated under a sturdy overhang of the ruin, concealing a cozy shelter the Jedi had set up that he entirely missed when he first arrived. Grogu was settled on his lap, slurping away at some homemade broth as the Jedi offered Din something more substantial: meat that was probably local game and some kind of vegetable. He ate in awkward silence, part of him itching to put his helmet back on, but he did not want to disappoint the kid. The Jedi, at least, seemed to respect his awkwardness, blissfully declining to engage him in conversation, at least until they were finished eating.
“Your ship…” he began, offering Grogu a small cup of tea once the bowls and plates had been gathered. He drank it down, his ears wiggling happily, and Din raised an eyebrow, remembering the “tea good” message, before turning his attention to the Jedi. A strange look was on his face now, a mix of amusement and nostalgia that made him lean back slightly.
“...it’s a piece of junk.”
Din stared at the blunt observation, his mouth working, trying to get a response out.
“It… gets me where I need to go,” he finally answered. As if to spite him, a loud clang came from where he parked the ship, and they all turned in time to see the ship lean precariously to the side as one of the landing struts gave out.
“Sometimes?” the Jedi asked, his blue eyes practically sparkling in his amusement. Din just wanted to find a hole and crawl into, the laugh the Jedi let out a moment later not helping matters. “Don’t worry, I can call someone in from town. They can have it at least back into a functioning state overnight.”
Din opened his mouth to protest, when he caught a cooing noise coming from Grogu. He looked down to see the little guy curled up on his lap, clutching at his empty cup like it was a pillow. He let out a sigh, carefully removing the cup and handing it off, before bringing his cloak around and gently wrapping Grogu up in it so he would not be sleeping directly on his hard armor. The kid let out another happy noise, already out like a light, and Din could not help but let out a sigh.
“Guess I don’t have a choice,” he replied, trying not to read too much into the Jedi’s smile.
~.oOOo.~
Din got the sense that it was not long after he had settled in and fallen asleep with the kid on his chest, that a loud clang had them both waking up. Grogu fussed against him, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as Din glanced around, noting the Jedi was not in the shelter. He shifted as he heard the other man’s voice from outside, tucking the kid securely against his shoulder before shuffling over to peer outside.
The first thing he spotted was the Jedi, mostly because at the moment he hardly looked like the regal, mysterious wizard he had interacted with so far. He had shed his cloak and vest, and the upper half of the jumpsuit he wore underneath had been undone, the arms of it tied around his waist. His bare chest was covered in a sheen of sweat, glistening slightly in the low moonlight as he bent over a different landing strut from the one that had broken earlier.
“—no idea how he even made it here, Artoo,” the Jedi was saying, and he caught a rude sounding blat coming from the droid in response, getting a chuckle out of the young man. “No, the Falcon is still worse. At least we don’t have to guess around weird modifications.”
Din frowned to himself, sleep fogged brain trying to recall if he had ever heard of a ship named Falcon before. He shrugged it off, instead watching as the Jedi hovered the landing strut back into place, before climbing up the ship, working on securing it into place. It was a moment before he popped back up, looking satisfied with his work as he started walking along the top of the ship.
“I’m going to check the other two, make sure they—”
The Jedi’s words disappeared into a squeak as he suddenly fell through the top of the ship, tumbling down the loading ramp a moment later. His droid let out a panicked trill, rocking back and forth on his legs as the Jedi laid where he finally stopped, spread eagled on the ground and staring up at the sky.
“Okay,” he began, sounding breathless, “I know we promised to have it functional by tomorrow, but… think we can convince him to stay another night?”
The droid let out a rude noise as Din just frowned at the exchange, not sure what to make of any of it. He finally glanced down at Grogu, who was staring up at him, sleepy eyed.
“Are all Jedi this weird?” he asked, but the kid just yawned, snuggling closer to his shoulder.
~.oOOo.~
“There were some complications last night.”
Din gave the Jedi a deadpan look, part of him tempted to call him out on what he witnessed the night before. The other man was back to the aloof and mysterious act, all traces of the wanna-be mechanic gone. Even his clothes looked perfect, when the jumpsuit should have at least been a little rumpled or have some kind of grease stain on it. Hell, the only sign that anything had happened at all was he would spot the Jedi letting out a yawn when he thought he was not looking.
“I guess I can stay a little longer,” he said instead, his attention drawn down as Grogu let out a happy noise, climbing onto his lap. A smile twitched onto his face before he could stop himself, reaching down to pat the kid on the head. A quick glance up showed the Jedi had a gentle smile on his face as he watched the two of them, before he reached into his vest, pulling out a datapad.
“If you don’t mind, could you make a stop into town while we’re training?” he asked, offering the pad to him. “I’ve been meaning to for awhile, but I haven’t had the chance.”
Din paused, looking down the list on the pad, noting that there was a credit line attached, along with an extensive list of parts for his ship.
This guy was such a bad liar it was almost painful.
“Can I ask you something personal?” he began as the Jedi started cleaning up from breakfast, pausing to silently encourage him to continue. “How old are you?”
He looked mildly surprised by the question, and for a moment, Din did not think he was going to answer him. The Jedi finally smiled, chuckling softly.
“Twenty-eight.”
Din sat there in numb shock for a long moment after the Jedi had called Grogu to his side, the kid giving his hand a tiny squeeze, before tottering his way out of the shelter. He finally ran a hand over his face to shake himself out of it, ending with thumping a fist to his forehead.
“He’s a damn baby,” he muttered to himself. Maybe that was a little unfair; Din himself was roughly five years older — the chaos of the Clone Wars and his founding making it hard for him to remember exactly how old he was — but still, the Jedi was not even thirty.
He finally let out a frustrated breath, grabbing his helmet and jamming it back on before heading out, wondering if it was too late to try and convince Ahsoka to change her mind.
~.oOOo.~
The nearby town was a fairly large, walled off place, the tell tale remnants of dismantled Imperial machinery lingering near the entrance. Two guards stood in place of the heavy equipment, and one raised his hand to stop him as he approached.
“Mando,” he greeted him gruffly, looking like he had seen way too much in the last decade or so. His partner was younger and more fresh faced by comparison, but seemed to be just as alert for trouble. “What brings you out here?”
“My ship’s busted,” Din replied easily, already feeling more comfortable with himself now that his helmet was back on. “I’ve got a friend out by the temple ruins helping me fix it.”
The man let out a snort at that, and a quick glance over his shoulder revealed his partner giving him a disbelieving look.
“You don’t mean that crazy wizard kid that showed up a couple weeks ago, do you?”
Oh good; Din was not the only one that thought of him like a kid.
“That’s the one,” he confirmed. The man stared at him for a long moment, like he was trying to determine if he was pulling his leg or not. He leaned back finally, letting out a good natured laugh.
“Well, mind yourself here, Mando,” he finally said. “Lothal’s been through enough. We don’t need no more fighting, especially in our towns.”
“I’ll be careful,” he assured the guard, starting forward into town once he stepped out of the way.
Hunting for the parts he needed was not as hard as he thought it was going to be. It had not taken much effort to find the junk traders that had the aftermarket parts he had on his list, some of them of questionable origin, but he certainly was not going to ask the questions. The most difficulty he had was in renting a skiff to help transport the parts once he realized just how many — and how large — some of them were. At this rate, Din was legitimately worried that the Jedi was rebuilding his ship from scratch, and he tried not to pay attention to the mounting price tag, so as he would not have to think about how much he was going to owe the kid.
He made one additional stop, spying a vendor that was selling the cookies Grogu seemed to like and buying them (with his own money!), before heading out. Both gate guards from before were still on duty as he left the city, the younger of the two staring with wide eyes at the skiff and the sheer amount of parts on it.
“Looks like all you’re missing is the hyperdrive,” the elder commented, a knowing look in his eyes that spoke of many nights hacking together his own vehicles in a desperate effort to make them work.
“I’ve flown in worse, but… it needs a lot of work,” Din admitted, earning himself a chuckle in return.
“Well, best of luck to you,” the man said, before glancing around him, frowning slightly. “Maybe you’ve got another friend there to help you out…?”
Oh… Din suddenly had a bad feeling about this. He turned around slowly, part of him hoping to see green and red Mandalorian armor set over black robes, or maybe even dark blue with a painted owl around the helmet visor. Of course he was not so lucky; the Mandalorian that stalked toward him was unfairly huge, his armor a deep purple accented with lines of yellow and silver. He had what looked like a gatling cannon strapped to his back like it did not weigh anything at all, and he felt more than saw the two gate guards back away as the man slung the weapon off his shoulder.
“Mand’alor!” the man bellowed, and Din was grateful for the helmet hiding the flinch at the unwanted title. “I am Njok of clan Rook! I challenge you for the right to wield the Darksaber!”
Din let out a long, suffering sigh, using the controls on his gauntlet to send the skiff a fair distance away. He had already spent way more of the Jedi’s money than he would have ever wanted to spend; he was not about to make it double because it got in the way of a needless fight.
“I don’t suppose you’ll accept me denying your challenge?” he asked, only to be met with staunch silence. Another sigh escaped from him as he primed his Whistling Birds with a flick of his wrist. “Well, it was worth a shot…”