Chapter Text
The thing about being a 5”6 blond boy-next-store type who also happens to have a black belt in mixed martial arts is that nobody ever expects you to win fights until you do.
The whole issue started at one of Han Solo’s infamous parties, and Luke Skywalker was only a couple of beers into the night when someone said something about Fennec Shand that offended his sensibilities.
Luke, being an idiot, butted into the conversation and told the guy to shove it, because since Han married his sister he felt a sort of dominion over weighing in on what was and was not cool behaviour in Han’s apartment.
He had also been coached endlessly by Leia about locker room talk since age thirteen, so the casual misogyny just really got under his skin.
Now, Luke didn't know Fennec Shand. He didn't know Fennec Shand to the degree that he mixed her up with another woman entirely, one who was far less capable of defending herself than Fennec Shand so obviously was.
The entire fight was a fight that unequivocally did not need to happen, and the only benefit to it was the fact that it ended a lot less bloody than it probably would have been if Shand had fought it herself.
It didn't actually last that long. Just a few moments of traded blows, over as soon as it begun.
Eventually Luke managed to slam the asshole back onto the counter, sending several drinks flying in the process. Doing so resulted in a few whoops from the gathered crowd, a laughing Chewie, and a raised eyebrow from his sister, who was nursing a beer from across the room.
It was then, while Luke was still hopped up on the adrenaline, that a man in a leather jacket materialized behind him and politely but bluntly asked Luke if he’d like to go somewhere quieter.
“Somewhere quieter” turned out to be on the back of the guy’s motorcycle and to his apartment, which was not what Luke expected but turned out just fine.
Here’s how it was supposed to go, judging by the way the guy eyed him when he took his jacket off in the hallway of Han’s apartment complex: Luke was supposed to notice his Mando tattoos, get spooked, and leave.
He was supposed to think better of being alone with this very enticing stranger with no mode of transportation back to Han’s or back home.
Luke did not do that.
Instead they had amazing sex on several surfaces and Din made him come thrice. When Luke woke up the next morning, he realized several things.
One: the guy who’d taken him home was part of a biker gang.
Two: more specifically, he was a Mandalorian. A fucking Mandalorian .
Three: the man had a baby, who was sitting in a high chair at the kitchen table when Luke stumbled out of the bedroom the next morning.
Four: that baby was kind of green and possibly the cutest thing Luke had ever seen in his entire life.
Five: this was the part of the story where Luke was supposed to depart awkwardly, tail between his legs.
Instead, a little hungover and well-fucked and deeply charmed despite himself, he dropped down into a seat at the kitchen table and tucked in for breakfast.
None of these things were smart decisions. Luke can admit that. But it took a few weeks of texting and pictures of Grogu and chance meetings and quiet mornings before Luke realized that he actually didn't care.
There were no surprises with Din, other than just how quickly Luke fell for him. It's not like Din wasn't the man he seemed to be; he owned a fucking biker bar. The scars on his body told Luke about a life of violence that only recently seemed to have abated somewhat.
But Luke liked him anyway. He liked how wry he was, how he never said anything he didn't mean. He liked how sweet he was with Grogu, how calm with his customers, how considerate of Luke.
Even if Din had enough gang tats to give a cop a heart attack and a severe resting bitch face, Luke loved him. Luke was in love with him.
Here’s another thing: when Luke Skywalker slept with and then started dating a single dad in his forties who was part of a biker gang, he didn't do it thinking he’d ever have to explain himself to his parents.
His evil, evil parents, who had tricked him into agreeing to bring his new boyfriend to dinner on Friday.
“I think I just have to kill myself,” he declared, laying face down on Leia’s bed while she sorted through papers on her desk. It was all clerk shit, all from her work with Mom. Probably really, really important stuff, but what was more important to Leia than listening to her brother’s incredibly poor romantic decisions? Nothing.
She had pretended to be busy when he showed up at her doorstep, but he knew that this shit was like candy to her.
“I think that's the only option, Leia. Don't laugh at me. I'm serious. I think I just have to die.”
“It'll be fine,” Leia soothed, without looking up from her desk.
“It will not be fine,” Luke said, voice muffled by her mattress. “We’ll eat dinner in awkward silence until Dad politely asks if he can talk to Din outside and then he’ll kill him and bury him in the backyard and Mom will let him because she lets him get away with everything and I'll be tragically widowed for the rest of my life and have to raise his baby by myself.
I can't raise a baby by myself, Leia. I don't even know how to change a diaper.”
Leia pushed back from the table and spun around in her desk chair, steepling her fingers and putting her best “I'm in Law School” face on.
“You can spin this,” she offers, which is really too kind of her. “We can come up with something. I introduced Han to Mom and Dad as a freelancer, maybe we can pull that trick. Your guy’s in a gang but he’s not like, in a gang gang, right?”
“He’s a Mandalorian,” Luke says mournfully.
“Oh my,” Leia says, and then fell silent for a bit. Eventually she snapped her fingers. “Make sure he doesn't wear his colors to dinner but if he brings his motorcycle it might be cool enough to distract Dad from everything else.”
It's at this point that Luke remembers his sister is a genius and sits up to pull out his phone so he can take notes.
Not only is Din a Mandalorian, he owns a Mandalorian bar, which makes him, in Leia’s words, a “businessman.”
Din’s age was not to be commented upon by anybody. If anybody was weird about it, both Leia and Luke would act like they were overreacting, and simply gaslight the family into submission.
Han would be coming too, just to keep the heat off of Luke for a little bit.
If there’s a truly, impossibly terrible situation, Luke has a script to rehearse about something coming up with Din’s brother at the last minute.
Eventually, Luke realizes that he is not only going to need to explain Din to his parents, but explain his parents to Din .
“How am I supposed to explain Obi-wan?” Luke said, because it was something that he’d always struggled with in school.
Apparently other kids didn't have a mommy, a daddy, and an older man who lived with them and spent most of his time meditating.
They’d called him “Uncle Ben” for years, and Luke wasn't totally convinced that his father wasn't a little bit in love with the man, but they weren't supposed to talk about that.
Luke stared at his sister as all of this went through his brain and they both decided, at the same time, that ‘Uncle Ben’ would just have to suffice.
The first person Din called was Boba Fett, which was a bad idea.
“He wants -no, Grogu, don't eat that- he wants me to meet his parents.”
“So?” Boba said, and Din could tell that the guy was blitzed out of his mind. His monotone voice was exactly the same as it always was, just slightly slower. They had known each other long enough for Din to tell the difference.
Din fished a Lego out of his son’s mouth and pursed his lips, keeping the phone stabilized with his shoulder. Grogu whined mournfully at having his snack stolen right up until Din replaced it with a rubber toy that he couldn't accidentally choke on.
Din stood up with his hand on his hip and looked out the window of his apartment.
“I just didn't expect it,” Din replied lamely.
“Wait, is this the same twink you picked up like three months ago?”
“His name is Luke.”
“Are you just incapable of one night stands? Is that what this is?”
“No. I like him. I've just never…”
“You've never met the parents before?” Boba said. Din shook his head before he realized that Boba couldn't see him.
It's not that he wasn't the kind of guy who people brought home to their parents; it's that his life wasn't the type of life where people brought him to meet their parents.
Even as a teen he’d never had much experience with romance. He’d spent most of those years trying hopelessly to prove himself to the Armourer even though he was several years too young to officially be a Mandalorian.
He had been too busy hotwiring cars with Paz and coincidentally showing up at Mando bars he shouldn't have even known about to bother getting a high school sweetheart.
“No. I haven't.”
“Isn't this the guy that's like, twelve?”
“Twenty-three.”
“That's what I said. Hold on. He’s twenty-three and dating you and he has a healthy relationship with his father?”
Din stared at the brick on his window sill like maybe if he focused on something else for long enough, he could forget he was having this conversation.
“He’s on speaking terms with his father. It may be… more complicated than he’s let on.”
“Sounds about right. Look, if it bothers you that much, just say no. Come up with some bullshit excuse if you have to. I'll cover you.” It was not the sort of sage advice Din had been expecting.
The second person Din called, for some reason, was Bo-Katan. This was also a bad idea.
“So I can't just say no?” Din said seriously, bouncing Grogu in his arms as he paced.
“If you want to break his little baby heart, sure,” Bo-Katan said, voice still rough with sleep.
As far as he was concerned she’d rolled over in bed with Koska to answer the phone and only stayed on the line because she got a kick out of Din being tortured by his own life choices.
“He’s trying to make it serious, and it sounds like you want that too, so you're gonna have to go through with this dinner.”
“He’s best friends with my baby. It's been serious.”
“Meeting the parents is the other half of that. Have you introduced him to A?” There was a pause.
“Din,” Bo said, disapproving.
“I don't want to scare him,” Din said.
“You have six guns hidden in your house, a knife in your boot at all times, and a baby. He hangs out at the Razor Crest with you so he knows what goes on there. If your twink had literally any survival instincts at all he’d be far away from you yesterday. The Armorer isn't going to scare him.”
“She might,” Din argued weakly. Bo scoffed and hung up.
The third phone call Din made was to Paz, which was perhaps the worst idea of the bunch.
“I'm in love with him,” Din said very seriously, sitting on his sunken couch. He wasn't able to distract himself with Grogu this time because the kid was down for a nap. The little traitor.
“Sounds pretty bad,” Paz said. Din just barely forced himself not to burst into tears.
“Yeah,” he warbled. “He’s… yeah.”
The thing about falling in love is that you don't believe it's real until it happens, and then it's too fucking late to do anything about it.
The thing about Luke Skywalker is that he’s too kind for his own good but not nearly as naive as he looks.
He’s beautiful and funny and he loves Grogu like he seems to love everything; wholly and without restraint. It makes him ache a little, but in a good way.
Din tries to explain this all to Paz but it doesn't work. Paz stops him halfway through, probably so he doesn't make any more of a fool of himself.
“So meet his parents,” Paz grunted. “If it doesn't go well, it doesn't go well. You know how it is. Don't let your fear rule you. This is the Way.”
“This is the Way,” Din mumbles back brokenly, and resigns himself to his fate.