Struggling not to let his head drop against Boba’s knee, Din blinked heavily at the blathering fool standing in front of the others dais.

The other had asked him to sit or stand on the dais in armor today, along with Paz, to make an impact as they had a war lord from another planet incoming to make deals and likely to scout out Boba’s operation.

Considering he was finally doing better, Din had jumped on the chance for some work and yet…

For some karking reason he was so tired, struggling not to slump against Boba’s knee. He had gone from standing at the throne side to settling down on the dais by the arm of the throne and the longer he sat there, the more tempting Boba’s knee looked as the conversation washed over him.

It didn’t make sense, Din shouldn’t be this tired.

He’d slept fine this night, he was taking his medication and he had a great lunch with Boba, Fennec and Paz, even if the latter hadn’t removed his helmet, still not at peace with the idea and had eaten behind a curtain. Hell, Paz had gone so far as to make uj cake for them to celebrate Din’s recovery.

The Vizsla clan recipe Paz had proudly boasted, telling all of them that the Vizsla one was better than both clan Wren and clan Rook recipes.

It had been deliciously sweet and spicy, sticky and slightly gooey on the top due to the alcohol syrup drizzle and moist and soft inside with chewy nuts and fruits.

Paz hadn’t often made it in the covert, special days only and sometimes for the younglings, so to get a whole tray of it. So even though Din could only eat some of it had been one hell of a treat and he had felt happy to do as Boba asked, his stomach a tad fuller than it should be due to him overeating cake.

Now he was just… so tired.

Why?

He couldn’t understand why and he didn’t want to embarrass Boba by jus-

A strong pull suddenly had Din’s head resting against Boba’s knee and before he could make much more than an aborted noise that his helmet didn’t pickup on, he felt a familiar and strong hand wrap around the back of his neck, bare, warm fingers pressing between his kute and cape.

Boba.

Boba had pulled Din’s head to his knee, was telling him to remain and Din slumped a bit with relief.

He of course didn’t realize how it looked as he let his eyes close, resting against Boba until he fell asleep. Din had slept worse places after all and with his helmet on, the feeling of people looking at him was familiar due to the beskar.

Now though… now they were looking because of Boba.

On the throne, his legs sprawled obscenely, Boba watched them with a grim gaze, his hand settled on the back of the neck of his shiny mando. On the left arm, Fennec sat, drinking spotchka as she leered at the court with lidded eyes. Behind the throne, leaning on the throne with his elbows was Paz, the cold black visor staring at the court unwaveringly.

It was a terrifying sight, especially with the sight of the gadaffi stick resting against the throne, Paz blaster canon on his back, Din’s beskar spear at his side and Fennec’s sniper rifle over her lap.

All of them looked armed to the teeth, dangerous and yet utterly relaxed, especially with Din sleeping against Boba’s leg.

Were they that confidant they could handle anything the rest of Tatooine or any rivals around the planet could throw at them that they could afford to be asleep or drunk?

The message it sent was terrifying.

Of course, the rest of the court didn’t need to know that three of them were worried about the fourth, Boba, Paz and Fennec all recognizing that something was up with Din.

Gingerly, Boba pressed his index finger to Din’s pulse point, inwardly frowning as he just found a steady, slow pulse and heartbeat.

Nothing seemed wrong beyond Din being so damn tired he actually fell asleep on the dais of all things, even as he quietly finger spelled to both Paz and Fennec that Din was simply asleep and not sick.

After all, his skin wasn’t clam, his breathing was steady and his heartbeat normal.

He was just exhausted.

But why…

If Boba was going to take a guess, he would imagine it had something to do with the others stomach, as many of the changes in Din’s behavior lead back to it. Though how it could be making him so tired, Boba wasn’t sure.

He couldn’t remember reading anything about sleepiness in relation to the gastric sleeve thing but maybe he hadn’t read it properly?

If it wasn’t for how important this meeting was, he would have stormed of with Din to figure it out now but seeing as beyond just sleeping, Din was fine, Boba was going to put a lid on his own nerves and coldly continue to observe the blubbering messenger in front of him with a stoic face.

Behind him, he could feel Paz shift, clearly the big mando itching to get to Din and either put him to bed properly or get him to the medbay, not that Boba blamed him. The King of Tatooine after all wanted to do the same.

Have Russal give him a scan and check his blood sugars. ‘Just get this over with and then I’ll take a break, take Din to the medbay.’ He promised himself mentally as he growled at the messenger, smirking humorlessly when the brat almost pissed himself in fear.

How the warlord thought to send this spineless brat to Boba, he’d never know, but the sooner he got his master’s demands out, the sooner Boba could reject them and send the messenger back packing.

Actually, maybe he’d send the messenger back, tarred and feathered, just for a point. ‘Or tied up like a hog and covered in graffiti?’ Boba mused to himself with humor. He knew that Yuna and Irv would be more than happy to deliver the little messenger back to his warlord if he did that.

Din let out a low noise in his sleep, nuzzling Boba’s thigh with his helmet, distracting Boba from his rather amusing thoughts.

Swiping his thumb soothingly over the nape, Boba couldn’t help but smile at the trust given to him, despite his own worry. ‘Rest well Din. Your trust isn’t misplaced.’