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“You’re sure you don’t mind keeping him for a couple more days?” you ask Cara, bouncing the baby lightly in your arms.
“’Course not,” she says with a shrug, perpetually unbothered in a way you’ve always envied. “He’s good company and an even better wingman. You should see how women flock to me in the bazaar when I’ve got him on my shoulder.”
You roll your eyes at that, mock-perturbed, but you give Cara the baby when she reaches for him anyway, glad to know he’ll be in good hands while you and Din are… wherever he’s going to take you.
The details are all of this are still hazy to you, and you’ve been thrumming with nervous energy since the Crest touched down on Nevarro. With the Armorer on board, you and Din are free to marry… whenever. The way Din explains it, the two of you could duck into a supply closet right now and come out five minutes later as husband and wife. You’re not going to do that, of course, but you could, and the idea is kind of freaking you out. Seeing the Child has soothed you a little bit, though you’re still worried about imposing on you and Din’s little circle of friends.
“If you get sick of taking care of him, Cara, you can send me and Din a comm. We only need—”
“What you need,” Cara cuts, hiking the baby up on her hip, “is to get married, say that you love each other, and then proceed to have wild sex for the rest of the weekend. The kid is fine with me, really. Don’t worry about me, or him, or anybody else. Just focus on your husband.”
You blush at the tease in Cara’s voice, still unaccustomed to her frank, vaguely crass nature after all this time. Leaning down, you give the baby one last kiss on his green little face, whispering that you love him before you pull away. He seems unphased by any of this, far more focused on entertaining Aunt Cara. Apparently, the two of them are joined at the hip now, a fact that, by all accounts, has made Greef insanely jealous.
“Everything good?”
Din’s voice catches your attention, and not one second later do you feel his hand on your back. He comes to stand beside you, looking between you, Cara, and the baby.
“Everything’s great,” Cara tells him. “Your girl here is just worried that the both of you are putting me out by asking me to watch the kid for a couple of days. As if me and him aren’t going to have the best time, right, dude?”
As if to emphasize her point, the Child gurgles and cries out in excitement. Din reaches out to hold his little hand, gentle and affectionate, but his voice is frank through the vocoder.
“Make sure he’s asleep before you bring a girl over, Cara.”
Cara gives him a shove, mock offended. “Go get married before I change my mind, tin can.” But she’s smiling as she says it, and Din huffs out a laugh.
---
The sun is beginning to set by the time you and Din make it to your destination, every inch of the horizon blazing bright orange. The walk here wasn’t a long one, the little house you’ve come to located just outside the city, and yet you still feel like you’re a million miles away from the rest of the world. There’s a lot of space around you, open ground with any and all neighbors far off in either direction. You never knew there were houses out here, but then again, it’s not like you ever proclaimed to be an expert on Nevarro.
Before you can ask, Din’s already typing in the door’s passcode, letting you walk in before him when it clicks open. You come into a teeny entranceway, the house’s front room laid out before you. Off to your left is the kitchen, and then a hall the rest of the rooms past that. It’s by no means a palace, but you don’t care— it’s a sweet little place, perfect for you and Din’s needs. Neither one of you has a liking for fussy spaces, and this certainly isn’t that.
Off the hall past the kitchen lies two bedrooms, one with an attached bathroom and one without. A second bathroom sits at the back of the hall, and then there’s not much more to see after that. A pantry, a small storage closet in the front room— nothing about this place is extra, everything has a purpose. Even the furniture, or what little there is to be found is plain and practical. No decorations, not even much technology— just a simple little house, bare and basic.
“Who did you rent this place from?” you say to Din, peeking in the kitchen cabinets to see what you can find. A few pots and pans, a set of dishes, silverware… There’s even some food in the refrigerator, enough for you to cook a few meals this weekend.
“It’s not a rental,” Din replies, stock-still in the living room, “it’s ours.”
You stop dead in the kitchen, one hand still on the handle of an empty drawer. Slowly, every so slowly, you turn around, heart hammering in your throat.
“What?” is all you manage to say, voice so small in the— in your kitchen.
“It’s ours, cyare.” Din takes a step closer, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I bought it for a few months ago. Greef helped me get a good price. It took some time, but I finally got all the furniture and the pots and dishes for the kitchen. I didn’t— I don’t know anything about decorating, so I didn’t so that. I figured I couldn’t pick out everything anyway, you know, since it’s not just my home.”
Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to Din speak, and… and you just don’t know what to say. Suddenly, everything around you seems infinitely more precious, infinitely more splendid. The little table and chairs, the couch in the living room, the forks in the silverware drawer— all of it was picked out by Din, all of it’s for you.
“I know we never discussed getting a place like this, but we can’t live on the Crest forever. You and the baby deserve stability, and if we have other children… I want us to have a life, cyar’ika, a real life. But if you don’t like it, I can… we don’t have to come here. The Crest will still be our place, I mean.”
All you can do is laugh through your tears and throw up your hands, amazed. “Din,” you declare, “I just…”
Din won’t come to you, it seems, and so you go to him, wrapping him up in your arms. The warmth of your embrace pales in comparison to what’s in your heart, but it’s all you have for him at the moment.
“What do I say?” you ask, finally stepping back after what feels like an eternity. You swipe at your cheeks and sniffle, trying to get yourself together just the slightest bit. People cry through their vows all the time, but you don’t want to.
“What?”
You look at him. “What do I say, Din?”
He acts surprised, like he forgot why the two of you came here in the first place. “Oh! Right. You, um— Just give me a minute.”
Din turns his back on you, headed for the door. He throws two locks there, moving to the windows next. There’s two sets of shutters on all of them, and Din closes them firmly, even flitting off into the other rooms to presumably repeat the action there. You allow him this little ritual, not saying a word even as your excitement builds and builds. You could float if you wanted to, you think, so giddy and anxious and full of feelings that it’s a wonder they aren’t pouring out of your ears.
After a couple of minutes, Din returns, nerves showing in his voice as he asks you for your help. “I— I want to be me when you see my face. No armor, just… just me in my clothes, nothing else.”
You say yes, of course, and then you’re fiddling with straps and struggling with buckles. This part you’ve done at least fifty times before, well acquainted by now with the process of getting Din out of his armor. It takes more than a few minutes, but then the two of you are done, face-to-face in the kitchen. The light is dim, just two lamps throwing their warm glow onto the walls of your house, but you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.
“Din,” you say softly, repeating yourself one last time, “what do I say?”
The string of Mando’a that comes out of his mouth is long and complicated, all the words twisted together on his expert tongue. You laugh before he’s even through saying it, reaching out to grab his hands.
“A little slower, please,” you murmur, “and maybe in parts?”
Din laughs, a real, genuine laugh, and then he’s breaking down the phrases for you. You set your face now, serious as you speak these sacred words into the air of your little home. Finally, it’s Din’s turn, and you think the vows sound so much better coming out of his mouth.
“Mhi solus tome,” he says to you, the words honey on his lips, “mhi solus dar’tome. Mhi me’dinui an. Mhi ba’juri verde.”
We are one when together, we are one when parted. We will share all. We will raise warriors.
The weight of what’s just passed between you settles like a soft, warm blanket on your heart. Din is your husband, it’s finally happened, and now you feel rightly and truly at home. There’s one thing left to do, the action that will complete this ritual, but it’ll only be right if Din does it.
It feels surreal to watch him raise his hands, to stand there as he grasps the sides of his helmet and pulls upward. Slowly, ever so slowly, your husband’s face is revealed to you. First his chin, and then his nose, and then… and then….
Din is beautiful. Beautiful, and terrified. The fear in his eyes is plain, the shaky quality of his breath only serving to show you how scared he is. You should comfort him, you know, you should reach out and hug him, tell him it’s alright, but… But you’re just so mesmerized by him, transfixed on all the features you’ve felt but never seen. The curve of Din’s nose, the slant of his mouth… You knew his hair was shaggy, but this wasn’t the length you were picturing! He looks so different than you thought, and yet you weren’t expecting anything less than the man that stands before you now. Stars, he’s so handsome, so… so… perfect. Din is perfect.
Miracle of miracles, even with as terrified as he is, it’s Din who speaks first.
“I think now would be a good time to tell you that there’s no take-backs on the vows.”
The joke fills your chest with warmth. “Not even if I had my fingers crossed behind my back?”
Din shakes his head, and you laugh, fingers twitching at your sides. You want to badly to touch him, to lean up and kiss him and put your hands in his hair while you do it, but you’d sooner die than frighten him any more than he already is. No, you need to be careful right now, careful like you were the very first time you two laid down together in the dark all those days ago. Din had been scared then too, shaking under your hands as you touched parts of him that no one had felt in years— maybe ever, if you’re being honest. This is going to be no different, that much you can tell.
“Can I touch your face?”
Din nods, tracking every movement of your hands as you bring it up to his cheek. He flinches when your fingers make contact, but you soothe him through it, stroking the hair on his jaw, tracing the curve of his eyebrow. No one’s more shocked than you when Din takes your hand in his own, twisting it until your palm is flat on his cheek. You can’t help but laugh— Din has always liked that.
“You alright?” you ask, relieved when Din nods against your hand.
“As long as you’re not regretting all your decisions, then yes.”
“No regrets here,” you affirm. You look him up and down then, deciding that the time for talking is coming to an end. “Are there sheets on the bed?”
It’s in this moment you realize that Din has his hands on your waist, and the tightening of his grip makes your heart jump. “Mhm,” he hums. “Made it up for us when we dropped the baby off the first time.”
“Take me there, then.”
Din doesn’t have to be told twice, and the two of you go stumbling into the bedroom together, kissing and trying to undress all at the same time. You have to coax him out of his shirt and pants, promising that you already know about every scar and mark he has. Still, Din’s uncharacteristically timid when he lays you out on the bed, and so you make a point of praising his body, pointing out all the things you love about him as he presses kisses to the swell of your chest, the inside of your wrist, anywhere and everywhere he can get his mouth on. And it’s no chore, not by a long-shot, not when parts of him are so toned and tan and cut perfectly.
Thankfully, Din seems to derive some confidence from this, and you find him to be much more sure of himself when he parts your legs and pushes inside you. You’re on your back for a while, blissed out and content to be fucked by Din for the rest of eternity, but then Din’s pulling you into his chest, murmuring that he wants you in his lap as he maneuvers you around. You let him put you where he wants you, moaning softly when the two of you are settled again. This has always been such a good angle for you, and Din’s never been one to make you do all the work yourself, even in this position. Tonight is no exception, it would seem, the press of his cock robbing you of all coherent thought within seconds.
It feels like one long, blissful eternity passes before you have to so much as think about thinking again, every bit of you focused on the sex and the feeling of Din’s arms around your body. He’s the one who pulls you back down to reality, holding you back from his chest so he can look you in the eye.
“I’m crying,” Din tells you, announcing this as though he’s surprised. Sure enough, tears streak his cheeks, his skin wet under your fingers as you go to cradle his face.
“That’s okay,” you say, because it is. “Are you happy?”
“So happy,” Din says at once, and the strain in his voice tells you that he’s getting close. “I love you so much, cyare, fuck, I just… I just…”
“I know,” you soothe, falling back onto his chest, threading your fingers in his hair. “I know, baby. I love you too.”
Not ten minutes later, the two of you are lying beside one another, breathless and coming down. Din still has tears on his cheeks, and you know you probably look like a mess, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You should shower, you know, shower and probably change the bed, but you’re so comfortable here under the covers. Din seems similarly inclined, reaching for you from his side of the bed,
“I take it you like the house then?”
All you can do is nod, snuggling into his chest.
“This is all I’ve ever wanted, Din. I can’t wait for the baby to see it.”
“We can go get him tomorrow, if you want,” Din offers, one hand dragging up and down, up and down your back.
“Sounds good,” you murmur, and then you’re dozing off in your husband’s arms.