@orientalld makes the best art on commission and I love them so much. Look! Tiny Grogu in Din’s arm! I love how true to the scene she made this for Fresh and young
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.’
“Where the hell is Waxer!?” The video started of with what was clearly Commander Cody on a warpath, the man looking incensed as he spun around the camp while looking around for said trooper.
The local fauna looked like one of the more tropical planets, lush green around the camp in all directions they could see and blue sky above with just a few scattered clouds about.
The focus however remained on the incensed Commander as he glared at those around him. “Damn di’kut isn’t answering his comms!” He snarled out, clearly threading a very fine line with his patience at that moment.
It was rather surprising honestly, Marshal Commander Cody was always one of the most level headed commanders the public got to see but today was clearly an off day and not finding this Waxer had pushed him over the edge.
“He said can’t move sir and to tell you he won’t be available for a while.” A shiny, as the public had managed to learn that unmarked troopers were called due to how new they were to the battalions they served, not having earned their paint yet as the others, dared to answer.
Instantly the commander whirled on the man, fire in his eyes. “What?” He snarled out, the shiny backing up in fear.
Thankfully though, for the shiny’s sake, someone intervened on their behalf.
A pair of medics went by, one of them stopping and by the red hair and smily on the chestplate, everyone could tell it was CMO Helix that answered Commander Cody, with medic Potion by his side. “What Trupper here means sir, is that Waxer is currently covered by Jedi and therefore can’t move.” He stated a tad wryly, gesturing towards something in the distance with one hand.
The one filming focused on Cody’s surprised face for a moment before following the line of Helix hand point to a point outside the camp, a bald clone with his helmet beside him and his legs stretched out sitting under a tree some distance from the camp. Beside him, another trooper with a mustache was sitting with his head on the bald ones shoulder.
But the most important part was that General Kenobi was also there, his head and upper body laying out across the bald clones, Waxer’s, lap.
Waxer’s hand was slowly petting the Jedi’s hair, his head tilted to peer up at the clear sky with every line of his body indicating relaxation.
So did Kenobi’s body too.
The man was asleep, settled over one of his trooper’s lap like a giant tooka, the shiny glitter of the bell of his collar barely seen at the distance along with a peek of purple.
A loud sigh echoed and the camera returned to the commander, Cody rubbing at the scar on his temple. “Why didn’t you just say Waxer was covered in Jedi, Trupper?” He questioned in a resigned tone before shaking his head when the trooper in question stammered. “If a Jedi is sleeping on you, unless its an emergency, you don’t move. No one’s gonna blame you for it.” Cody stated wryly.
Moving with Potion, Helix let out a loud snort. “Considering how hard it is to get the General to sleep properly some days, I will shank the first one to wake him.” The CMO growled before disappearing from view.
“Tooka rules apply to Jedi,” The commander continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “If they choose you, you stay still, you let them sleep and you better hope you went to the latrines right before.” Cody grumbled before turning and muttering to himself about who the hell he was going to get to replace Waxer, wandering out of frame.
The trooper filming returned to zoom in on the General and his troopers, giving the public one last view of three content souls relaxing in the shade of a large tree.
Arm wrapped around her padawan and son, Depa hardly blinked as she watched Commander Cody, as the Vod’alor of the Republic, spoke to the Republic and the Separatist, reaffirming that the GAR was now in control of not only the Senate but the Republic as a whole and that they now answered to them.
Not only that, the Vod’alor was also showing the proof of the Senate’s corruption, of Palpatine’s manipulating both sides of the war, of rampart embezzling of credits, of deals made in the shadows…
But nothing about what the Jedi had been going through at the hands of the Senate and Depa couldn’t help but feel tears building at the corners of her eyes, filled with relief as she clung to Caleb.
She’d never have to send Caleb to the Senate.
The realization hit her heavily, sent her stomach flipping as the realization sunk in with surety that the troopers now had the power to protect them from the abuse Jedi had gone through for centuries. She would never have to sit up in their quarters, waiting on her padawan, her son, her boy, to come back. Never have to watch his back as he left for a Senator’s pleasure only to come back maimed and depressed.
Depa would never have to patch Caleb up like Mace had to do for her after suffering abuse at senators hands.
The realization had her pulling Caleb tighter to him as he stared at the holo of Vod’alor Cody, listening intently, knowing that things had changed, feeling Depa’s relief.
A warm blanket dropped around the two of them and Depa flinched, finally dragging her eyes away from Cody to look up at her own Commander Grey smiling humorlessly but comfortingly down at her.
They must have known.
Staring back up at Grey, Depa blinked slowly before smiling back in return, relief in her heart as she held her padawan to her side, feeling Caleb slowly cuddle into his side. She knew the war wasn’t done, there would still be battles but…
There was hope now, hope that Depa had never considered before, hope she knew no Jedi that remained in the order had considered.
As the report finished and then looped, Depa let her chin rest on top of Caleb’s head, wondering… what came next?
()()()
Plo had known what was going to happen on Coruscant.
His boys, his sons, couldn’t keep a secret from him, as much as they tried after all and he knew that several other Jedi must have caught on too. Obi-Wan at the very least must have known, seeing who had taken over the reigns and was now technically Chancellor, even if Commander Cody sported the title Vod’alor.
But Wolffe and the others couldn’t keep a secret from Plo.
It was why he had quietly agreed when the boys had requested they remain in the airspace above Coruscant for a few days, not making a fuss.
Ever since Wolffe and the boys learned that his arm had been broken by a Senator, by no means the worst injury he had received really, he had known that something was up. The way the boys had burned with rage…
Oh, Plo knew that the former Senator in question’s days were numbered.
He should regret that.
He should have stopped the coup of the Senate.
He didn’t.
Instead he was just so tired, so weary that when Wolffe, gruffly but with concern had suggested he go rest for a while, he had taken his commander on the offer with a smile and a gentle shoulder pat as he saw a bright red orange spot bloom on the surface of Coruscant.
Ignoring it, knowing it was fire and likely the troopers on Coruscant doing, Plo bid his boys a good watch and told them to get their own rest when it was time before quietly making his way to his quarters to remove his mask and googles.
His boys and their vode would take care of things and Plo couldn’t be prouder of them.
Couldn’t be prouder of these traumatized and yet compassionate boys he had the honor of getting to know, the honor of caring for him in return. Who, when they learned about what was happening to the Jedi, had turned around and decided enough was enough.
Would they have done so for themselves?
Plo wasn’t sure, he hoped they would, but he also knew how far the Kaminoans had gone to ensure obedience and therefore he was left in the dark if they would have.
So he was thankful, even if it was for the Jedi, that the troopers had ripped themselves free.
He couldn’t be prouder of them and resolved himself to tell them tomorrow, to make sure they knew just how much Plo thought of them…and how grateful he was.
Plo knew he wouldn’t be the only Jedi grateful, though he wondered how long it would take for many to realize just how free they now were. The thought was almost alarming as Plo changed into his sleeping clothes and crawled into his narrow ship bunk, exhausted to the bone and yet relief in his mind.
His dreams were, for the first time in many months, free of nightmares.
No visit to the Senate in his dreams, no dreams of his boys getting gunned down, no sight of trembling padawans first visit to the Senate or limping knights.
Just a deep, dreamless sleep with his covers wrapped around him and the Force lulling him to sleep in its safe embrace with quiet whispers, the signatures of his sons wrapped around him all over his flag ship, the Mercy. He would never again loose his boys the Force whispered in his sleep, as he had lost them on the Triumphant before when his sons had called themselves expendable, the sensation of the war ebbing in his dreamless sleep.
He wouldn’t remember it in the morning, but a sense of utter peace filled Plo for the first time in years as he looked forward to the future.
Pulling Din up onto the couch beside him, helping him suit Grogu in his lap with one arm wrapped around the little boy and then lacing their fingers together on the other hand, Boba settled as best he could as Din slowly rubbed his thumb on the back of Boba’s hand.
His face still felt oddly sticky and ruddy from crying, his eyes sore and he bet if he could see them in a mirror, they’d be reddish. Boba actually felt a bit awkward looking between his father, who was standing behind the couch with his eyes flickering between looking questioningly at the kids to glowering silently at the Jedi.
Kenobi meanwhile had settled down in the armchair to the left of the couch, his hands settled on his knees as he relaxed back in the arm chair. His brows were raised at the kids and for a moment, Boba wondered how they must look to the Jedi in that hoodoo Force stuff the Jedi had.
Then he disregarded it and instead looked to Din, raising his brow at the other, silently asking what he thought they should tell the other two.
Din simply shrugged, swinging his legs absently.
Honestly, Din didn’t really know much about this time period, Din came from the outer Rims, he hadn’t had the need to know about any of this and hadn’t even encountered a clone before he meet Boba, at least as far as Din knew.
There were many things that hadn’t been vital for Din to know and therefore he hadn’t learned in his and his coverts bid for survival.
So it was up to Boba to decide what to tell the others and how much.
Some things, he wouldn’t be telling Kenobi after all, some things were personal and to be kept between him and his buir and Din. Other things were vitally important for the Jedi to know, to start change.
Small boulders starts the avalanche after all as they said on Datooine.
So Boba started with the fact that Grogu was Force sensitive, as Kenobi clearly knew, seeing as he had recognized the kid and that he and Din had touched an artifact that had pulled them back in time.
Not only pulled them back in time but also put them in their child bodies.
For the most part, both his buir and Kenobi let Boba talk but occasionally they interrupted.
Asking about the relic in question, to which Boba could only offer vague description. How many years into the past they had gone, which would be about thirty one years old since Boba was now ten. About how he and Din had meet and what he was to Boba, though Boba had promised his buir to explain that later.
Then came the difficult part.
The clone wars and the Empire.
Both his buir and Kenobi listened with the mouths steadily dropping wider and wider in shock and horror as everything was described to them, in gruesome details. Boba didn’t spare them, he had worked for the Empire and he had seen things up close and personal even if he at the time had been cold to it.
Looking back at it… Boba had not been a good person. Oh, he had his own moral code at the time of course, had been surviving with the jobs Vader and the Empire gave him but… no, he had not been a good person.
It also made him realize that his father hadn’t been a good person either. The scars of his past didn’t justify what happened to the clones, they shared their blood too and Boba hoped…
Well, he hoped.
Sometimes that was all he had.
Hope.
‘Well, and Din.’ He thought with a small smile as Din squeezed his hand gently, recognizing that Boba was falling into a mood despite how different he looked without his scars and fluffy hair. Din had spent a long hour just playing with Boba’s hair, familiarizing himself with it with delighted eyes as Grogu snored on Boba’s chest.
“I… see,” Kenobi finally settled on, frowning deeply as he rubbed at his chin, clearly thinking things over. “It would explain the strange… sensation in the Force around all three of you but I have never heard of time travel through the Force, but…” A wry, almost depreciating smile crossed the redhead’s lips. “As many masters like to say, all is possible in the Force.”
Boba just grimaced at that then shrugged.
“What I’m curious about, for now, is why Din here is trying his best to hide his face. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Jango stated in a cool tone. If he wasn’t so familiar with himself, Boba might think his father was angry.
But he could tell the other was uneasy more than anything.
Glancing at Din, finding him tugging his hood down again with wide, anxious eyes. Boba squeezed his hand gently. “Din is from a… insular section of Mandalorians in the future,” Boba tried to be kind to Din and the way his covert had been but he could see Din pull his shoulders up around his ears despite how gentle Boba was being. “He was taught to wear his helmet in front of anyone not his aliit or riduur.” He looked back to the adults.
Both Kenobi and Jango frowned at that but it was the former that spoke first. “The splinter group to the Way of the Mandalorian, Watch Children?” He questioned, a tad worried clearly.
Din, Jango and Boba stared at the Jedi in surprise.
The man in question raised his brows in return. “I spent a year on Mandalore, I am quite familiar with the culture, the language and the weapons,” He stated a tad dryly. “I have my own beskar’gam in the temple, though I haven’t worn it since I was seventeen.” Kenobi shrugged.
Jango shifted and whelp, Boba would have to ignore that flash of interest in the man’s eyes. There was no way Jango was going to imagine his own dad kriffing the Jedi with how Jango was literally eye fucking the man right there in front of his own child, yikes.
Then there was the fact that a Jedi had beskar’gam, proper mandalorian armor from Mandalore and apparently was also familiar with Mandalorian culture and language, despite Jedi not being welcome on Mandalore prior to Duchess Satine…
Well, Boba had no idea what to make of that, even less that it was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Maybe that explained why his men loved him so much?
If he was familiar with mando’a, he might have communicated and fit in with them better.
But still, the very idea of all of it went over Boba’s damn head.
Still, he nodded slowly. “That would be…right. Din is… well, Din is learning to be without his helmet but…” He trailed off.
“A lifetime of habits do not disappear overnight,” Jango rumbled, crossing his arms over his chest with a thoughtful grimace before nodding seriously. “I’ll go find one of the cadet helmets for him, if you’re amendable to that verd’ika?” He offered Din, smiling gently when he got a painfully hopeful stare and nod from Din.
Clearly, despite knowing that both Boba and Din were adults where they came from, neither Kenobi or Jango could see them as anything but children.
Which might be for the best actually Boba mused as he pulled Din closer to his side and had the other rest his head on his shoulder, Grogu cooing in Din’s lap. They weren’t reacting as their older selves would, their reactions weren’t as disciplined, their emotions not under as good control and the less said about their bodies the better.
Clearly, for all intents and purposes, they were now children again, just… precocious children with knowledge they shouldn’t have.
…Karking Osik.
Aliit = Family
Riduur = Spouse
Verd’ika = little soldier (often used affectionately, especially with children)
SWpromptsandask 