Tilting his helmeted head like a curious bird, Din let out a soft noise. “You weren’t joking when you said they might recognize your face.” He stated quietly as he turned his head to his companion, gently thumbing his shoulder against Boba’s.

Hair pulled back into a stubby ponytail, Boba just hummed quietly, arms crossed over his chest as he continued observing the clones beneath them as they trained.

Pressing closer, Din slid his arm around Boba’s shoulders. “What are you thinking?” He questioned worriedly.

Since coming back to the past, Boba had become even more prone to long silences of contemplation. Before, Din always knew what that meant, it had to do with the ruling of Tatooine or the other was angry at Din for yet another reckless move that they would have to talk about so Din didn’t scare Boba again.

Now however, even looking at Boba’s face with the baby fat in his cheeks, Din wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

So he asks.

He shifts until he’s standing in front of the other in the glass hallway, cups Boba’s cheek with his own soft hand and presses their foreheads together, smiling when Boba instantly closes his eyes and hums in pleasure at the affectionate and familiar touch.

Just for a few moments, he indulges them both with the keldabe kiss, rubbing the others tanned cheek with his thumb. Just as they did in the future, just with baby fat instead of scars and no stubble to speak of.

Oh and of course no beskar.

Din misses his beskar.

“What are you thinking?” He whispered quietly, watching as Boba opened his eyes to peer into his. The visor of the cadet helmets weren’t as black as Din’s old, (or was that new?) helmet, made it easier for people to see hints of his face but at least it brought comfort.

And like this, with Boba looking at his eyes, he found he didn’t mind that it was slightly sheer compared to his beskar helmet.

Arms slowly slid around Din’s waist, holding on as Boba usually did when he was feeling upset and Din let himself be brought closer until they were chest to chest. Physical touch had always been comforting to both of them, once they learned to manage the touch starvation they both had.

Trust had come easily between the two, maybe too easily, the touch starvation had been harder.

“How close my father is to being a dar’manda. How being back here, seeing everything again, reminds me just how far he went, how much he was lost…” Boba trailed of then sighed deeply. “And how much I still love him, regardless of what he’s done.” He settled on tiredly, his young voice sounding much too weary for his young face.

Not that Din couldn’t sympathize.

Seeing all this…

Well, Boba hadn’t been shy about telling Din exactly why Kryze felt so threatened by Boba, why the other insisted that Boba was not a mandalorian.

After all, the grandson of a mand’alor was quite the contestant to the throne and for the saber, one she wouldn’t want. The foundling of a mand’alor, Jango Fett of house Mereel… yes, Boba had the claim to the throne of the glass planet.

Though it wasn’t glass, not yet, was it?

Right now, Mandalore was a thriving planet, at least inside the domes, even if it was under the pacifist rule of Duchess Kryze.

Din didn’t know quite as much about this time period of Mandalore, there had been some basic history taught, of course. But the covert had focused more on the skills of survival, of their language, their culture and of course their foundlings.

History came second hand to that, to survival, to not letting the imps get another chance at wiping them out. Boba however had tried to fill in as best he could on quiet nights when Din’s curiosity got the better of him and Boba was in the mood to explain.

Talking about his father had been a harder subject for Boba, reserved for sober days of remembrance and the little Boba had managed to pierce together of his father’s past before Kamino.

But being here, Din could see why Boba was bringing it up as he looked to the rows and rows of black haired heads, so similar to Boba and yet all so uniform.

The word ‘decommission’ had never been as chilling as when Boba had explained to him, in quiet words, exactly what that meant here on this cursed ocean planet. Foundlings, children, were the most important thing in mandalorian culture… or at least they were suppose to be and Din still couldn’t understand how damaged someone could be to… to just discard clones of themselves, children.

Not when you kept one of them, raised them well and yet let others be put down, who were just the same as the one you kept.

“…I won’t say that he hasn’t lost his way,” He started quietly, feeling Boba’s hands grip the back of his tunic. “But… what’s lost can be found again, we’ll help him. Aliit, right?” Din smiled at Boba, watching the other stare at him before amber eyes softened and Boba nuzzled in like a reticent tooka wanting cuddles.

They might have stayed like that for a while if there wasn’t for a throat suddenly being cleared. The two time travelers separated but stayed close, Boba falling into position in front of Din and Din reaching for the blade he had hidden in his new belt.

Clearly, they didn’t make an impressive view as a rather stocky clone, who reminded Din of adult Boba yet this clone seemed taller, just smirked at them with raised brows. He was familiar, not in the way all clones looked alike but Din felt like he had seen this one before.

“Alpha.” Boba greeted with narrowed, suspicious eyes, Din’s mind flashing back to the clone leading the group they had encountered after Boba taunted Priest.

“Bob’ika, Boba’s friend,” Alpha greeted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Saw you up here, came to invite you two to come spar with us if you’re interested.” He drawled, nodding his head to the left, where a singular group of troopers were sparring in another room.

Noticeably, most of them were looking up at them. Clearly waiting.

The question had Boba letting out a surprised little, huh, before he turned to Din, brows raised questionably to the other. Hesitating, Din mentally calculated the time before nodding. “The Jedi and your buir still has Grogu, he’s not to wake from a nap yet, so I don’t see why not. Training is good?” He stated.

A little snort escaped Boba at that, a fond smile that lacked those distracting scars crossing his lips as he turned back to Alpha and nodded. “Sure, but no funny business. I’ll break your bones if anything weird happens.” He drawled.

A short, barked laugh escaped Alpha and then he was of, moving down the hall with Din and Boba following along quickly.

Making sure to walk at Boba’s side, Din glanced between the two then down to the clones waiting for them. “Boba… who are they?” Din whispered quietly, leaning in to be quiet yet clearly by the way Alpha’s head jerked a bit, he still heard Din. “To you I mean, you… don’t listen to anyone else, I mean, except your buir.” He stated cautiously.

Boba raised his brow before shrugging slightly, finding Din’s hand. “They’re my batch mates. We were decanted together.” He drawled, his voice cracking slightly without an ounce of embarrassment for his hormones.

‘…Oh…’ Din turned his head back to Alpha’s back. ‘…They’re his vode. They’re the one he would have grown with if Jango hadn’t kept him.’

The difference was stark, from Alpha’s power build adult form to Boba’s much younger, smooth faced form and Din squeezed Boba’s hand.

He got a squeeze back, Boba’s eyes focused on Alpha’s back with quiet contemplation.

Aliit = Family

Buir = Dad

Bob’ika = Little Boba