Imagine the STAR WARS [One Shots]

Strings [Din x Reader]

"When do you figure we'll see the kid again?" you find yourself asking in hyperspace with your feet propped up on the control panel, knowing that there isn't a real answer. Even so, you want the idea out in the open. You want to verbalize it because it's been a month since you last saw Grogu, and you've been missing your kid the whole time.

To his credit, Din doesn't tell you right away that he has no idea. From his place in the pilot seat of the ship you've got on loan from Karga, he shifts and inclines his helmet towards you.

"I mean," you continue. "You promised we'd see him again."

"Yeah..." Din allows. "I don't... I don't know."

You nod and plant your feet on the ground. This was the answer you expected, but his voice tells you he's been thinking about it as much as you have. Probably more. You've had to get good at listening for the micro changes in his voice over the past couple of years.

With a sigh, you stand and put your hand on the space between his beskar helmet and pauldron. The only thing separating you from his skin is fabric. A year ago, you wouldn't have dreamed of this kind of easy physicality with him, but co-parenting a child manages to break down barriers. "Hey," you whisper to him. "If you want to take the helmet off to breathe for a second, I can leave."

Din hesitates for a moment before reaching to press his hand over yours. "I think we're beyond that at this point," he says in a voice so low that it vibrates in his shoulders and up your arm.

Of course, you haven't forgotten. You don't think you'll ever be able to forget the first time you saw his face. How could you? It was like shattered china: broken, beautiful, and priceless beyond belief. You'll never admit it, but it's a moment that lives in your thoughts every day. You certainly could never forget it, but maybe he'd like to. After all, it happened during one of the most painful moments of either of your lives, and it was meant for Grogu, regardless of who else saw it.

You take a breath. "I don't—" Before you can continue, a beep from your communicator interrupts you. Good. You aren't sure what to say. You reach for the comm and flick it on to read the contact. "It's Boba."

Din looks at you over his shoulder, and you realize that you can perfectly imagine the look on his face. You're making a conscious effort to try not to think about how abnormal that is. "You're still in contact?"

It shouldn't come as a surprise. So, you shrug and open the message.

Need a favor, Boba's message reads.

Shoot, you respond.

The reply is almost immediate. Come to Tatooine. Linking the coordinates.

You snort. What for?

For the favor, he helpfully supplies.

"What are you talking about?" Din asks after a long silence.

Instead of answering, you sigh and drop the comm in your lap. "Can we make a detour to Tatooine?"

"What for?" he asks.

After floundering for only a moment, you answer with a sigh, "A favor."

He begins to plug in the hyperspace calculations and doesn't ask for an explanation.

The suns are setting when you land on Tatooine a mile away from the coordinates Boba sent you. The silhouette of the old Hutt palace is in the distance, and the coordinates lead inside.

"I don't like this," Din says, standing to your left and gazing at the imposing silhouette.

"You don't like anything," you point out absently. You're too busy trying to get a read on the sand stability to worry about his paranoia.