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Ow.
Luke’s forehead smacked something hard. His ears were ringing and, for some odd reason, his face was wet. He also had the overwhelming urge to shake like a soaked dog.
So he did—which, again, ow. Glass shards pooled in his lap along with some little red droplets of something.
Blood, he acknowledged distantly.
The driver’s side window had shattered. He couldn’t remember if that happened before or after the spinning, but it was letting all the cold air in. He didn’t like that. It was making his skin feel all weird. Numbly, he tried to roll it back up, but the button just made some strange shuttering sound.
Next, he tried his seatbelt. Fingers stiffly poking at the release button. Or was that his thigh?
Ow.
His fingers weren’t working right. His palm was cut, too. He was gonna have to dry clean his nice jacket—the one he’d gotten during his service. His favorite.
He could feel tears welling in his eyes, but the stinging air refused to let them fall. It made Luke feel like a child. A silly, stupid child.
“Hello?” someone said.
Luke blinked, sluggishly turned toward the voice. There was a man hunched outside the open door. An alpha, he could just barely tell past the scent of metal and snow.
“I don’t have any money,” he slurred back. His tongue felt weird, too. He really wasn’t having a good day. Maybe he was sick.
“What’s your name?”
Luke vaguely realized the nice voice was wrapped in yellow stripes that kept catching some red and blue flashing lights. It was sort of pretty, reflections in the night. He had a helmet too. And a face.
A nice face.
“Thank you?” he replied, gruffly, “But I need you to tell me your name. Do you remember it?”
It hurt, but he managed to mumble out, “Luke Skywalker.”
“Hi, Luke,” the man opened Luke’s car door, “Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?”
“My head hurts,” he informed the man—a firefighter, oh no. Why was a fireman breaking into his car?
“You were in an accident.”
Right. He was in an accident. The spinning and the glass and everything.
Luke tried to rub his head but stopped when a warm hand caught his wrist.
Din was talking again, “Try not to move, okay?”
He looked down. His sleeve was soaked. His poor jacket. The glass in his lap kept shifting every time he moved the slightest bit. It was starting to annoy him. When he went to scoop it up and move it, though, the same warm hands pressed him gently back against the chair.
“I was driving. It wasn’t—I didn’t hit anyone, right?”
“No one else in your vehicle. No other cars involved.” The alpha glanced over his shoulder, then back. “Looks like your back tire hit a patch of black ice. You spun out. Lucky you missed that guardrail.”
Lucky. That was a word.
Luke felt a rush of panic clawing at his chest. The car. His car. Well—his uncle’s old Civic, inherited after he passed last spring. Luke had scraped by on the repairs, patched it together just enough to keep it running, and barely passed emissions. He really needed this car.
“My stuff,” he said suddenly, trying to sit up again. “Wait, my bag, I had a—”
“Stop.” The alpha’s hand landed again, this time on his shoulder. Firm but careful. “You might have a concussion. Stay still, alright?”
“I can’t—I have my phone in there, and my wallet, and I had groceries, and I—” Luke swallowed, and the cold went deeper. “Shit. Shit, I don’t have anything else.”
A wave of nausea rolled up his neck. Not from the blood or the pain—he’d dealt with worse—but from the weight of it. He’d been laid off two weeks ago, was already late on rent, and his phone bill was overdue. If it broke in his bag, too—
Suddenly, a heavy jacket was draped over him like a blanket.
“You’re shivering,” the man said, once again staring at something Luke couldn’t move to see. Probably the ambulance, given the sirens' indication. Close, too, because the noise cut suddenly.
Between one blink and the next, suddenly a whole lot of people were surrounding him, asking questions he could barely answer, and finally, finally moving him out of what used to be his car.
“Anyone you want us to call?”
Luke finally broke when he had to squeak out, “No. No one to call.”
And that one shattering sob sent his whole world into darkness as he passed out.
Luke never planned on seeing Din again. Once was enough—traumatic, mortifying, and largely one giant blur.
So, of course, the universe throws him face-first into the guy. Hundreds of miles away from where he lived, too.
Literally. Because the next time they meet, Luke crashes right into him. On skis. During his vacation.
The snow had been too soft. That was Luke’s first mistake.
His second was looking at his feet instead of down the hill—though, to be fair, he wasn’t expecting an obstacle at the bottom. Especially not a human one. Especially not him.
“Shit—!”
Luke didn’t even finish the word before his body slammed into something solid. Someone, actually. It wasn’t like hitting a tree or a signpost. It was unbelievably worse. The man rolled with him in a flurry of limbs and snow.
And then Luke was lying half on top of him, goggles askew, one ski popped off somewhere, with his heart in his throat.
The guy beneath him groaned. “Are you—”
Luke blinked. Frozen. Let it go and all that.
“—kidding me,” Din finished lamely, catching sight of Luke’s face too.
“Oh my god,” Luke whispered, voice cracking with horror.
For a second, neither of them moved. A breeze licked at his hair, and he realized, rather belatedly, that he should probably move. Luke thought briefly about dying. Or faking death. Either would’ve been better than this.
Din blinked at him from under his helmet, his dark eyes completely unreadable. He hadn’t changed—still big, still solid, still Alpha. Luke could feel a certain part of him reacting, just the smallest bit, which was just—great. Amazing. Fantastic.
“You,” Din said flatly.
“I swear I’m not this accident-prone normally,” Luke blurted.
Din didn’t answer. He just gave Luke a slow once-over, then sat up with a grunt, forcing Luke to awkwardly roll off him and sink into the snow like a discarded rock.
“Maybe you should live somewhere warmer,” Din said, brushing snow off his jacket. Luke almost thought he was being an asshole, but he just managed to catch the quick quirk of the other man's lips and the amusement dancing behind dark eyes.
Luke opened his mouth, closed it, then made a small, strangled sound, “You’re not funny.”
They stared at each other again. Luke’s heart was hammering too loudly. He could feel it in his throat. Din, for his part, looked irritatingly calm.
“Are you okay?” Din asked finally, quietly.
He blinked, “Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Good,” Din said.
“I mean,” Luke added, “except for the embarrassment. And the part where I probably broke one of my skis and landed on top of a guy who’s quite literally saved my life before.”
Din’s mouth twitched. “You always talk this much?”
“Only to firefighters with nice faces and warm jackets.”
Din snorted—actually snorted—and stood up. He offered Luke a gloved hand.
Luke hesitated. Then took it.
Din pulled him up with no effort at all. His grip was strong and warm even through the gloves, and Luke’s brain did that awful thing where it remembered how strong he’d felt wrapped in those arms last time—bleeding, woozy, head in Din’s lap.
He might’ve made that last part up. Forgive him, most of his blood decided his brain was no longer the most important organ.
Luke yanked his hand back to pat himself down in a motion so smooth they named it Rocky Road.
Din didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he picked up Luke’s fallen ski, inspected it, and handed it back wordlessly.
“Thanks,” Luke mumbled, cheeks burning.
Again, there was an awkward pause. Din seemed fond of the silence, or just preferred to wait out whatever idiotic thing Luke would stutter out next. God, he was the worst. His attempts at flirting felt stitched and disjointed. Was he even flirting with the alpha?
Sure, being a stellar car-crash victim was now a permanent feature on his resume, and apparently, hitting charitable first responders with his body was on there, too, now. Perfect date material—just ask anyone!
“You’re probably cold, right?”
“Huh?”
“Rolling in the snow,” Din tacked on, “I mean—fuck, I’m bad at this.”
Luke utilizes his well-earned degree to respond with, “...what?”
“Hot chocolate?”
“Are you naming Christmas activities? Oh, shit, do you have a concussion?”
“What? No.” Din shakes his head, “I’m trying to ask you out.”
Luke stared him down for a moment before, ever so eloquently, asking, “Seriously?”
That was, clearly, not the appropriate response. It was so, not the appropriate response, in fact, that Din turned on his heel and began walking away without another word.
“Wait!” Luke stumbled after him, “That’s not what I meant!”
“It’s okay,” the alpha grumbles, despite noticeably picking up his pace to get further from Luke.
“I want to go out with you! I do!”
“I said it’s okay.”
Luke panicked. He didn’t think—he rarely did, but this time he truly didn’t. Not as he launched himself forward, practically falling into the other man in some awkward sort of hug. The man stilled despite the rather weak attempt at a true hold.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I... handled this like a total idiot, huh?”
Din turned slowly to look at him. “You think?”
Luke groaned. “Okay. Yeah. Deserved.”
Din didn’t respond right away. His face was unreadable again, like he was deciding whether or not to keep walking.
“I just didn’t expect you to ask. I wasn’t—” Luke cleared his throat. “I’m not used to that. Especially after everything.”
There was a long moment of quiet before Din finally exhaled through his nose. “I’m staying at the resort not far from here,” he said, still watching Luke closely.
Luke blinked. “Okay?”
“My kid’s at some club thing until four,” he added.
“You have a kid?”
“Yeah.” His tone was even. “That a problem?”
“No, I love kids,” Luke said, voice steadier now. “Used to want to be a teacher.”
Din made a thoughtful sound, a low rumble from his chest, but his body language didn’t shift much.
“Can we maybe... start over?” Luke offered, finally loosening his grip and stepping back.
Din looked at him for a beat, then finally gave a small, slow nod. “Alright.”
Luke blinked. “Really?”
Din shrugged. “Can’t get much worse than the first impression.”
“That is deeply insulting,” Luke said, following him as they turned back toward the lodge. “But fair.”
The snow crunched under their boots as they walked in companionable silence. Luke tried not to look at Din too much. Or trip. Or think about how this was maybe technically a date now. And that he had technically body-slammed his date twice.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, so if this is a do-over, do we reintroduce ourselves? Like in movies?”
Din glanced sideways at him. “You actually want to pretend we just met?”
“Don’t you?” Luke tilted his head up at him, eyes wide. “It’s more romantic that way.”
Din gave him the flattest look imaginable. “You skied directly into me.”
“That could’ve been anyone.”
Din paused just before the lodge steps. His breath clouded the air between them. Then—completely straight-faced—he held out his hand. “Then I don’t think we’ve met. My name is Din.”
Luke stared at it. Then grinned and took it. “Hi, Din. I’m Luke.”
“Well, Luke, I think you’re very cute. And it’s cold out. Can I buy you a hot chocolate?”
“You—uh. You can absolutely do that, yeah.”
Din didn’t let go of his hand, instead using it to pull the omega closer and whisper in his ear, “This is already going better than the last person I asked out.”
“Shut up,” he stuttered out, face red-hot.
Din’s laugh rumbled low in his chest as he backed up. He didn’t let go, though. Just twisted their grip slightly, and suddenly they were actually—holding hands. Like on purpose. The alpha was using it to tug him along, finally stepping into the resort they’d been loitering in front of.
Warm air hit them the moment they stepped inside, thick with the scents of cinnamon, wood smoke, and whatever magic made hotels smell new. The floor was made of lacquered wood and thick rugs, and the ceiling arched high above them, adorned with all sorts of garlands and twinkling lights. A stone fireplace crackled, surrounded by overstuffed chairs and people between one place and the next. Soft music—Christmas, like everywhere else this time of year—played under the hum of conversation and moving parts. It was warm in every sense of the word, like walking straight into a Hallmark movie.
The café Din was pulling him towards was tucked just off to the side of the lobby, past the polished elevators.
“Sit,” Din said, nodding to a two-top table with mismatched plush chairs.
Luke sat. Din disappeared toward the counter, leaving him alone to have a brief crisis about his hair and the amount of snow still clinging to him.
He probably looked like he had been hit by a bus. Or a person. He probably should’ve asked if Din was okay, too. But the firefighter probably knew better than Luke would, right?
Instead of letting himself spiral, he turned to look out the window. Snow was starting to fall again, frost clinging to the glass, but he could still make out the other skiers and children slapping together snowmen.
Din returned a few minutes later, carrying two absurdly large mugs. He set one down in front of Luke with gentleness he assumed came with raising a small child.
“Hot chocolate,” Din said. “With extra whipped cream. They said it’s the best.”
Luke took a sip, burning his tongue just as Din rushed to warn him, “— wait, it’s hot!—”
“Ow.”
Din gave him a funny smile—or was it a grimace?— “Sorry, I tried to warn you.”
“That was my fault,” Luke nodded, “It’s literally steaming.”
Instead of trying to drink it again, he just wrapped both hands around it and soaked up the warmth through his gloved fingers. Din’s hands had helped, but a lot of snow and ice had packed into the fabric after their tumble. It felt like he was only just now starting to thaw.
“So,” Luke dragged out, scratching at the porcelain, “Your kid?”
Din’s eyebrows pinched together, confused, “How do you know I have a kid?”
“What? You told me—” Luke started before breaking off with a groan, “Right. You told someone totally random who has nothing to do with me.”
That earned him another low chuckle from the alpha.
“His name is Grogu,” Din finally explained.
“I’m sorry…?”
Another snort, “I know. It’s the one he came with, though, so it seemed cruel to change it.”
“Came with?”
Din nodded, “Adopted.”
“Ah,” Luke affirmed, “I was adopted—sort of. By my Aunt and Uncle.”
“Oh, how are they?”
“Dead.”
Luke knew it was a tad mean to be so blasé about it, but if he tried for anything longer, he’s pretty sure he’d cry in front of Din… again.
“Oh,” the alpha stuttered out, seemingly uncomfortable with the space that left, “I’m sorry for your loss,”
Luke nodded, “How old is Grogu?”
“Five.”
“Cute.”
Din seemed to debate something for a while before sighing and pulling out his phone, “I hate to be that kind of parent, but I feel like the situation calls for it.”
“What kind of…” Luke trailed off when a picture of the most adorable kid ever was suddenly shoved in his face. “Oh my god.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean, he’s actually so cute. Usually it’s just like staring at a chubby, carbon copy of the parents.”
“I thought you wanted to be a teacher?” Din laughed, clearly more than a little relieved that the awkward moment had passed.
“I did—I do. I like kids. But I want to be a teacher because I had one who really changed my life—Ben. He meant a lot to me. He actually knew my dad, too, so it always felt… special, you know. Obviously, I can’t be that to someone, but I want to help. To make a difference in someone's life.”
“I do, actually,” Din nodded, “I had someone like that too. Inspired me to do better, be better. As cheese-y as that sounds.”
“I think we’re a bit past cheese-y,” Luke laughed, “Grogu is lucky to have you.”
“I hope so,” Din said.
Luke finally took another sip of his cocoa, having cooled down enough to. The whipped cream had fully melted, sweetening the drink even further. It was good. Cozy. Comforting.
“This is a really weird first date.”
“Really? I don’t think so,” Din shrugged.
Luke tilted his head, one brow lifting. “You don’t?”
“Can say it’s how I expected my afternoon to go. But I’m sort of really glad you ran me over.” Din said.
Luke groaned and dropped his head to the table, just barely missing his mug, “Okay, no, I take it back. This is the worst date ever. I thought we started over.”
“You’re cute when you're embarrassed,” Din added, casually sipping his cocoa.
Luke made a noise as if he were dying. “Stop. You cannot say things like that.”
Din hummed. “You told me I had a nice face the first time we met.”
Luke shot him a glare over his arm huddle. “I could still ski into you again. You’re not safe.”
Din leaned back slightly, looking amused. “You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would.”
“You wouldn’t catch me this time.”
Luke’s smile cracked through the mock-annoyance before he could stop it. He was warm down to his toes now, and not just from the hot chocolate. It was strange how easy this felt. Not perfect—they were both still pretty awkward—but Din just seemed to click with him. Like monkeys in a barrel or puzzle pieces.
It seemed like, maybe, Din felt that way too, because he just looked at Luke—really looked at him. Almost like he was soaking up the scene before him.
The moment stretched between them, but they couldn’t just stay in it forever. Eventually, Din shifted in his seat, glancing down at his phone, “I should go, it’s almost four.”
“Oh,” Luke said, trying not to let his disappointment seep in, “Right. Yeah. His ‘club thing’ is almost over.”
“That’s the official name,” Din nodded, before reluctantly standing.
Luke stood too, trailing after him a second later. They walked slowly towards the lobby again—Luke, personally, was dragging his feet, and Din seemed keen on keeping pace with him.
They paused near the exit, boots scuffing lightly against the mat. Din looked like he wanted to say something else, but hadn’t quite landed on what yet.
So Luke made it easier for him. He held out a hand, palm up. “Phone?”
Din blinked. “What?”
“Your phone,” Luke repeated, wiggling his fingers a little. “So I can put my number in it. You know. Like people do to plan other dates.”
Din pulled it out and handed it over without a word.
Luke added his number, personalizing his contact with all sorts of emojis and decorations before handing it back.
Din looked at the screen. His mouth twitched. And then, in a split second, he was raising it up and snapping a photo of Luke.
“No! I look awful right now. I’ll send you a photo to use.”
“Really? I think I quite like this one, actually,” he wiggled his phone just out of Luke’s reach, mocking.
Luke rolled his eyes, but forged ahead, “So... dinner sometime?”
Din nodded, slipping the phone back into his jacket. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Luke ducked his head a little, warmth blooming under his skin again. “Cool.”
“I’ll call you?” Din asked.
Luke looked up through his lashes, doing his best attempt at flirtatious, “Okay.”
Din hesitated a second longer, then pressed in close enough to plant his lips on Luke’s forehead. It wasn’t exactly the kiss he’d been hoping for, but it was sort of better—in its own way. Sweeter, certainly.
And that was it. They parted ways. Din to get his son, and Luke to find his way back to his own hotel.
And if he just so happened to get a photo of Din and Grogu in the snow for his contact photo that caused him to giggle and kick his feet like a schoolgirl—well, that was between him and the four walls of his room.