#dinhan

[mykingdomforasong]

Luke: Sorry I'm late. I fell asleep in a sunbeam. Din: A likely story. Han: No, I've seen him do it. It's pretty adorable.

[astrotheyge]

I think one of my favorite skymandolo relationship starters is established skysolo meets single dad Din

Luke sees Din once and later that day he’s saying to Han “baby you should have seen him he had the saddest brown eyes please can we keep him”

Han’s like “fine but he’s YOUR boyfriend” but two weeks later Luke finds them cuddling on the couch

[foxns]

new thoughts!!

we've all heard the Luke and Han are a former ~thing~ from the Rebellion Era and Din is Jealous™ and all that.

Hear me out tho. Din and Han are the exes. (Maybe a run in during Ranzar Malk crew era)

And Luke, calm, serene, the force is with me i am one with the force Skywalker is fine when he finds out. No, really. He is. Shocked but it's fine. It's not like he and Din were anything anyway. Luke is a Jedi. He isn't supposed to be attached. They're just good friends! Really good friends. Until Han says something to Din like "still growing out that mustache?"

And Luke nearly has an aneurysm.

Luke: you've seen his face??????

Han: no but I've felt it when- ah

Luke: (´･_･`)

Luke: (•`_´•)

Din: [oblivious. enjoying his time with his new foundlings the younglings]

[pozhar27]

very cute handin commission i had the pleasure of doing for a birthday gift!!! trying new coloring and rendering styles lately :p

[kazmirone]

Din/Han fic excerpt

So... I don’t expect anyone to read this, but here’s the start of a Din/Han fic I started writing a long time ago right after The Mandalorian, Ch. 12: “The Siege”. 

“At least let me buy you a drink,” Karga said.

Din glanced back at the child, who grinned woozily before spitting up some more blue gunk down the front of his robes. The kid would need a serious bath, a change of clothes, and more food to replace what his bottomless pit of a stomach had expelled in the course of their wild flight, all things Karga and Dune could likely provide.

“One drink,” Din conceded, and then he turned the ship around.

*

The new watering hole was nicer than the last, though a bit unfinished and further from the town’s center.  Like most of the other buildings in town, the cantina had been built into an ancient lava field, and inky black basalt made up the entire back wall. It glimmered in the midday light as Din and the others passed through the doors. The lights were all off, but wide bay windows let both the sunlight and a warm breeze through.  

Along one side of the new cantina, a long bar was being stocked by an older Twi man. On the other side of the room, a younger human woman pulled heavy plastic sheeting off a gaggle of tables and booths. The smell of fresh paint hung heavy in the air, noxious even through Din’s filtration systems. The kid squirmed a little in his grip, his nose twitching.

Karga, who was directing their group to one of the larger semicircular booths, seemed to have noticed the kid’s displeasure and apologized, “Sorry for the mess, Mando. We don’t officially open for our first day of business until nightfall,” then louder, “that is, if my extremely well-paid and fully insured employees get a move on.”

The Twi man behind the bar coughed lightly, looking only slightly stricken by the admonishment, and dragged the massive box of liquor closer. Cara rolled her eyes and made her way to the bar, snatching up a bottle of something from one box and a few tumblers from another, then sauntered back to their booth.

“Shove over,” she said to Din, sharply but not unkindly.

She gave him exactly no time to do so, though, and fell heavily into the seat at his side with enough surprise force he lifted off the cushion entirely and felt his knees brush the underside of the table. Jostled further as she elbowed her way into a more comfortable position, Din shot her a glare.

Cara laughed, knocking her thigh up against his. “Oh, don’t give me that look.  ‘Sides, the kid thinks it’s funny.”

Sure enough, he looked down to see the kid grinning his toothy smile. Cara wiggled her gloved fingers at the child, who cooed at the movement, and watched the woman in rapt attention as she poured the liquor into three glasses and slid the other two to Karga and Din.

“To dead Imps,” Cara said, lifting her glass. “May they rot in sith’s hell.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Karga said, raising his own glass to clink against hers.

Din, of course, would not drink, nor did he participate in their salute. Still, he wrapped his free hand around the tumbler out of some strange, sudden sense of comradery. An almost alien warmth spread through him as if he really had thrown back the amber liquid swirling in his glass.  That he would feel such amity with these two people – a former shock trooper and a backwater magistrate – but had felt such discomfort with the Mandalorians he’d encountered on Trask was alien indeed.

Cara and Karga drank in a companionable silence for some time, and Din broke the quiet only when the child started to get fussy, tugging at the leather of the gloved hand that held him close. Hungry, likely, and uncomfortable in his soiled clothing.

“Kid needs a bath,” Din remarked.

“He really does,” Cara said.

Din shot her another look, and the woman shrugged. “What? He does. I didn’t want to say anything.”

“We’ve got a big sink in the kitchens. Water, too, not sonic,” Karga said a little proudly. “That work?”

“Sure.  But I don’t want to waste your water.”  It was a commodity on an arid, ashy planet like Nevarro, worth its weight in precious metals.

“Nonsense!” Karga exclaimed and reached over to touch the child’s cheek. “Anything for this little guy.”

Cara copied the motion, smiling gently at the kid in a way she’d probably never smile at anything else. “Guess it’s bath time for you, huh? I think that’s my cue to go find absolutely anything else to do. See you around, little one,” she said, then glanced up at Din. “You, too, Mando.”

Din tilted his helmet in agreeance, watching as she pulled herself up out of the booth. The loss of the warmth from having her pressed up against him for so many moments was immediate, and it left him feeling oddly empty.  

She stopped at the doors to shoot off a bit of a lazy salute, then disappeared into the bright sunlight.  When he turned back around, Karga’s eyes were on him, an unreadable expression on his face that Din found discomfiting.  He shifted in his seat and held the kid closer. “So. Kitchen?” he asked.

Karga nodded after a few long and agonizing seconds before launching himself out of the booth with a surprising limberness. He gestured towards the back in a way that indicated Din follow. His eyebrow quirked upwards in what could only be mild amusement as Din only slightly struggled to slide out of the center of the booth one-handed but said nothing while he led them to the door at the rear of the establishment.

The kitchen was small, compact, and chipped into the basalt in much the same way as half the rest of the cantina. That pervasive odor of paint was fainter here, covered by the smell of something bubbling away on the range. Whatever it was smelled amazing, frankly, and a tight feeling in Din’s stomach reminded him that it had been more than a while since the last time he ate. The kid chirped, twisting about in his grip to get a glimpse into the big pot.

“Monkey lizard stew,” Karga said. “It’s not much, but it tastes alright and it’ll keep the drunkards happy. We’ve got polystarch bread, too. I’ll send some with you.”

“Thank you,” Din said.

“Of course,” Karga said, genial.  

He moved to the sink then, which was a large basin split into two equal halves. He plugged the drains on both sides with rubber stoppers, turned the faucet on warm, and then moved off to the side. “Figured the kid’s clothes need washing, too,” he said.

Din thanked him again and placed the kid on the counter, who immediately tried to put a thick chunk of lard soap in his mouth. Wordlessly, Din snatched back the soap and started the always difficult task of undressing the wiggling kid. Luckily, the child had an affinity for bath time and was anxious to get into the water. Din, on the other hand, was anxious to strip off his gloves and get this over with.

It became clear pretty quickly, though, that Karga had no intention of removing himself from the kitchen. Instead, he produced a small flask from an inner pocket and leaned a hip up against the counter, a move that might look casual to anyone else but not to Din. Karga had something to say and was just looking for a way to say it.

Din plopped the kid into the sink, who squealed happily, and shoved his little clothes into the soapy water on the other side. Then he waited, waited for whatever Karga was gearing up to say.

After a long moment, however, Din grew tired of waiting, and was a little irritable that he had an audience. After all, it meant he couldn’t remove his gloves to clean the kid. And the damn things took forever to dry. “Whatever you have to say,” Din said, perhaps a little too tightly in the face of Karga’s admittedly large acts of generosity, “just say it.”

“I have a job, a bounty,” Karga said.

“A job,” Din repeated. He shook his head. “I’m not looking for a job. I have a task already, and it needs to be completed.”

“It’d be worth your while, this job.”

The kid started slapping his claws on the surface of the water, creating soapy waves that wet the front of Din’s flight suit. In his periphery, he saw Karga pull a bounty puck out of the same pocket he’d produced the flask and set it on the counter. There was a small trill as the puck powered up, casting the dimly lit kitchen in a ghastly, ghostly glow.

And Din, Din took one look at the face spinning slowly in the blueish holo-light, considered it not at all, and promptly toggled the puck off with a sudsy hand. “Absolutely not.”

“Mando - ” Karga started.

“Pass.”

Karga reached for the puck and powered it back up.  Its flickering light smoothed out the etched age of his face. The kid splashed around the sink a little less violently now, distracted by the rotating hologram.  

“It’s a big job,” Karga said.

“And it’s still a pass,” Din said, moving his attention to the robes floating in the water on the other side of the sink.

“Galivanting across the galaxy can’t be cheap.”

Din felt a prickle of annoyance claw its way through him then, and he scrubbed a little harder at the kid’s tunic than was probably necessary. Zig-zagging his way through the systems was eating away at what meager savings he had at an alarming rate, and it aggravated him to no end that Karga was willing to push that button.

“Right now, I’m doing everything I can to keep the Empire off my back,” Din said, bringing the clothing out of the soapy water and thrusting the bundle under the tap to rinse and wring out. “I don’t need the New Republic piling on, too. They get wind I grabbed up one of their biggest war heroes, that’s exactly what will happen.”

“New Republic’s who posted the job,” Karga replied evenly.

That – well, that gave Din pause.  

He glanced up at Karga, who’d poured himself another drink and was sipping slowly at the contents. The older man shrugged and looked back at the face above the puck. “Yeah, that’s right. And they’re after him for something big, too. Absconded with some sensitive material a year or so back, disappeared into the Mid Rim for a while running cargo for some real bad actors. Couple months back, resurfaced in the Outer Rim looking a whole lot richer and not too subtle about it either.”

“So the New Republic thinks he sold information,” Din said.

“I think that’s the general consensus, yes.”

“You seem to know a lot. That whole ‘asking questions’ thing go out the window during the restructuring?”

Karga looked at him carefully, and not without a bit of an edge. “All I know is what the client posted in their missive to the Guild. They’re mad, they’re motivated, and they’re willing to pay.”

“How long have you been sitting on this bounty?

“Now who’s asking questions?” Karga asked coolly, quickly, but relented just as fast. “Got the posting this time yesterday. Got it certified this morning. How…serendipitous it is that you show up on my doorstep not twelve hours later?”

“Serendipitous, sure. That’s one word for it. Who were you going to give the bounty to?”

“Bossk.”

Din scoffed, remembering all the times he’d had the misfortune to cross paths with the arrogant Trandoshan. “Bossk’s an idiot.”

“Sure, he is. Biggest kriffin’ idiot in the whole galaxy. But he’s fast. And this job requires a certain level of expediency and discretion that I know you can provide. And I know you need the credits. So I’m offering it to you first.”

“How altruistic,” Din said drily. “That commission must be something else.”

“Look, my friend, you think building a trade-based economy from the ground up is easy? You think it’s cheap?” the older man asked. “Then there’s the clinics, the schools, houses of worship…”

“Clinics, schools. Now that’s a dirty trick, even for you.”

Karga laughed, eyeing him over the lip of his flask. “Sure, but did it work?”

“Depends. What’s the job worth?

“One twenty-five.”

“One twenty-five,” Din repeated slowly. “A hundred and twenty-five thousand?”

“That’s right.”

Din blinked. “I find it hard to believe the New Republic’s got that kind of cash to throw around. I had a run-in with a couple of their defense force pilots before I touched down here, and those X-wings looked about ready to fall apart.”

“For a guy this high on the chain,” Karga said, gesturing towards the puck between them, “they’d about throw around anything to sew that mouth shut.”

“Where’s the last known location?”

“Quarry’s last known location? Nelvaan.”

Karga produced a tracking fob from his pocket with a flourish, while Din consulted the map of the known galaxy he carried around in his mind, places he’d been to, places he’d heard of. Nelvaan. Outer Rim. Ice planet. Entirely ungoverned and crawling with monsters, some of them sentient, some of them not.

“If you’re worried about the kid, we can watch him while you’re on the job.”

Din shook his head, dismissing the offer immediately. “No. The destruction of that forward operating base won’t go unnoticed. The kid can’t be around when that happens. You saw that transmission.”

Karga nodded after a moment, mouth going tight.

Din eyed the tracker and considered. “I offload here?”

“You offload at Hosnian Prime.”

If Din could have pulled at his hair in frustration, he would have. As one of the rotating capitals of the New Republic, Hosnian Prime would have minimal Imperial threat, but if his brush with those NRDF pilots a few days back had taught him anything, it was that this newly established government now had his number. That wasn’t going away just because those two orange-suited skyfliers let him off with a warning.  

If the quarry was still on Nelvaan or somewhere nearby in the system, and if he took him into custody without issue, Din would have to figure out a way to get to the rendezvous point, complete the handoff, wait for identification certification, and then re-enter the hyperlanes without being spotted, tagged, or followed.

Karga continued quickly, “Some senate rep will meet you for the tradeoff. They’ll have their man, you’ll have your credits, and everyone goes their separate ways. And think of what one twenty five could buy you. You could retire, almost. Settle down. Find yourself a nice ladylorian.”

This punched a laugh out of him, though he tried hard as all hell to suppress it. He snatched the fob from the older man’s hand, clipped it to his belt, and turned back to the kid.

“Not all heroes stay heroes, Mando,” Karga said, apropos of nothing. “Han Solo made his bed. Now he has to lie in it.”

*

It was a short jump to Nelvaan, just three quarters a standard day.

Din managed to coax the kid to sleep after they ate. He used the time alone to wash quickly, change his clothing, and fall into a hard and dreamless sleep for a few hours.  

When he woke, he forced down a cup of instant caf. Then he stripped and cleaned his blaster in the cockpit as the stars streaked by in long, bright lines, clearer and sharper without his helmet obscuring his vision.  

It was an easy task, cleaning his weapons, a familiar and mechanical one shaped by years and years of practice, and he let his mind wander while his hands moved on muscle memory.

They should be journeying to Corvus to seek out this Ahsoka Tano, one of the sorcerers who might lead them to the kid’s people. Din would do all in his power to stay true to the Creed and either take this child back to his people or raise him as a foundling. Unfortunately, all his power depended on the credits to his name.

Karga was right. Those credits were dwindling, as was his list of allies. Not all of his associates were as generous as the former magistrate, and they would sooner feed him to Imperial warlords than they would feed him monkey lizard stew.

A hundred and twenty-five thousand credits would buy him at least two years in fuel and supplies and repairs. He could once again tithe for the foundlings. He could build his savings back up. It was a windfall, that kind of money, if he could figure out a way to pull it off.  

The tracking fob’s light blinked steadily, but its flicker had quickened noticeably over the past half hour. It meant the quarry – Solo – was still on Nelvaan, and he was still up for grabs.

Din wasn’t overly concerned with the grab portion. Get in, take Solo into custody, maybe freeze him in carbonite to spare himself having to hear the infamous smuggler turned hero turned possible turncoat run his mouth, something Din knew from many others over the years the man was wont to do.

No, it was the drop portion that worried him.  

The NRDF had his ship codes, that much was clear. Entering New Republic airspace, which would encompass all of Hosnian Prime and its thousands of vertical miles and levels of atmosphere, risked a ping that would bring T-65s and who knows what else down on their heads faster than he could punch the Crest back out of orbit.  

He would have to rent or boost a ship from a nearby planet if he wanted to get past Hosnian’s scanning systems, if he wanted clearance to land. He would have to hope the receiver of the quarry wouldn’t run his credentials if he wanted to get paid. It was a lot of ifs, but it also was a lot of money.

Din was going to chance it.

[mykingdomforasong]

Locked in a room + I didn’t mean to turn you on… skymandolo or any combination therein

[trope mash up list]

E rated, skymandolo, inappropriate use of old Ben's hermitage

~

Tatooine sandstorms were deadly once they picked up. There wasn't any flying possible when they raged through the Dune Sea, so Luke was just glad that they'd been sheltered in the still-abandoned hovel that used to belong to Ben.

Han and Din had been kind enough to join him on his journey through Tatooine, looking for whatever records might still be hidden out here, stowed away from the prying grasp of the Jawas. The sandstorm had picked up before any of them could do anything about it. Now they were stuck in the little one-room house together with only their rations, a few blankets, and Ben's miraculously still functioning refresher. Din had taken off his helmet and armor once they confirmed there was no going anywhere. Now there was nothing to do but watch Din scape sand out of his beskar and hope Han could make a decent meal out of their rations.

There were worse situations, of course. But his two partners were a little less than boyfriends themselves, although they were far more than strangers. Right now, they seemed to be stuck in some perpetual dick-measuring contest, constantly vying for Luke's attention, then stealing glances at the other to see their reaction. Luke found it hard to complain about, though, since most of their attention and affection went to him now. He'd been sucked and fucked so many times in the last few weeks he'd lost count. And while he wanted the two of them to work through whatever their petty bullshit was, he didn't want to stop the quantity of attention. So he was letting his boys work things out on their own.

There was still some cook wear stashed on top shelves in Ben's place that they might be able to sonic clean to heat up some dinner.

Han stretched, trying to reach a pan on the top shelf of the cabinet, but his arms were too short to grasp the pan handle. Luke wondered if Ben used to have a ladder that had been stolen in the last decade or if he just used the Force.

Luke stood behind Han, before crouching to wrap his arms around Han's thighs to lift him up. Han grabbed the pan as he protested: "Hey! Hey! Alright, put me down."

"Couldn't you just use the Force?" Han asked with his feet back on the ground.

Luke smiled. "That was more fun."

Han turned to Din. "He didn't used to be able to do that," Han told him.

"He can now," Din said back.

Han was always desperate for Din's positive attention, Luke had learned, trying to show off to and one-up the Mandalorian all at once.

Either way, Han turned around leaving the dusty pan on the counter, hoisted Luke over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Luke kicked his feet. "Hey!"

Han set him down on the long wooden table, pressing Luke flat on his back. Han looking over him, smirking the way he was, gave Luke a strong sense of deja vu. He remembered being nineteen, literally swept off his feet by Han Solo -- the same ways he'd just been -- a laid gently on the Falcon's dejarik table before being fucked within an inch of his life. He'd had sex before, but never like that. It was experienced and tender, but desperate and passionate. Sex with Han had been a revelation for Luke, and it still was.

When the memory of their first night came screaming back to him, Luke felt his cheeks go red. Han noticed and leaned down to kiss him, grabbing one leg by the underside of the thigh. Han was a tease, though, a didn't grind up against him or touch him over the clothes. Instead he just pulled away.

Luke sat up a little, leaving his forearms resting on the table. He was always quick to rise, and now was no exception. He'd hoped his semi would at least be discrete, but his affinity for tight pants betrayed him. Han and Din were staring at him, waiting to see what he might do.

"Sorry, didn't mean to turn you on," Han said, smiling.

Luke turned towards Din, who was still across the room, staring at the two of them. Han grabbed Luke gently by the chin and turned his head back towards him. Luke almost laughed at the show of jealousy, but he was cut off by Han's lips on his. Han pulled Luke into him, Luke's ass on the edge of the table, his legs finding their way around Han's waist, his half-hard cock finding the front Han's pants.

Luke opened his eyes mid-kiss and cast a glance over to Din, who answered it by standing and making his way over to the table. Luke leaned back into this kiss, a possessive grip on Han's shirt.

"Are you going to fuck him?" Din asked, now standing behind Han, who jumped at the sudden voice behind him. Han bit Luke's lip in surprise, but it only turned Luke on more. Luke started to unbutton his own pants, desperate to cum.

"Don't feel like going through all that trouble," Han said. Luke looked up and saw they were both watching him pull his cock out. "Besides, I don't think he'll wait for me to get that far."

Luke would have rolled his eyes if Han wasn't right. Han undid his own pants as Luke licked his left hand. Han pressed his own hard cock against Luke's and let Luke hold both of them in his hand, rubbing together. It was still too dry -- everything on Tatooine was -- so Han dropped his head down and captured Luke's cock in his mouth. While Han sucked him off, Din leaned down to kiss him. Din was still a little clumsy with kissing, but Luke founding charming.

Han sucked him off for just long enough that when he put their cocks back together it was a lot slicker. When he came back up, he pressed himself against Luke, squeezing Din out of the way.

"How are you going to fit into this?" Han asked.

"Han!" Luke scolded. Han mumbled a "sorry," but Din didn't seem bothered.

Din stepped around to the side, so he could watch them rub against each other. Din slowly undid his belt, then his zipper. Luke felt Han's lips on the side of his neck as his eyes stayed glued to Din.

"Pretty happy right here," he said.

Din stroked his own dick a few times before finally pulling his glove off. He extended the bare hand to Luke, who spit in it for him. Luke let his eyes linger on the slow way Din got himself off, fingers tracing over the head of his cock before sliding his hand down to the base, working himself over at a pace that would have been torture to Luke.

"Do you remember the first time we fucked?" Han asked Luke.

"Of course," Luke said, his breathing shallow.

"Din, he was incredible. Nineteen years old, already a war hero. I had him laid out out on my game table. He was hard, red-cheeks, pouty lips," Han smiled, "a lot like right now," Luke let himself get lost in the memory as Han talked. "I think he meant to whisper it all seductive, but he nearly shouted 'I want you inside me!'" Han kissed him hard, now and then, his lips pressed against Luke's like a promise. "He had an ass worth going to war for. Couldn't say no. Best choice I ever made." Han went on in detail -- how hot and tight Luke was, the things he said. The way he finished a little soon, but was up again by the time they made it to the bedroom for round two. Han was the dirty talker of the two of them, and he knew everything he said was for Luke more than it was for his and Din's little competition.

"He ever beg you to fuck him like that?" Han asked.

Din shook his head no. "I've been known to beg him more than once," Din confessed.

"You always take it, then?" Han asked. "I know that's how we've done it, but ..."

"I just like it more. And he's strong. Mandalorians ... we like people like that. I like people like that. Before you arrived on Nevarro yesterday, he bent me over the table, a lot like this one. I still have bruises on my hips."

"Fuck," Han said, picking up the pace of his thrusts against Luke. Things were starting to get dry, but Luke was so close he could hardly care. He couldn't even keep himself upright.

He laid back down on the table, and said, "Please, keep talking."

"Fucking him is a real gift," Han said. "I know he's a great top. Trust me, I know. But one day you'll have to switch. I'll watch, tell you what to do, how to make him scream."

Luke pictured it, him on his hands and knees in the big Nevarro bed, Din's fat cock in his ass for the first time, Han talking him through exactly how to make Luke feel good.

His pleasure reached its peak without much warning; he felt his balls tighten and he took a sharp inhale, before cumming mostly into his hand.

"Fuck, baby," he heard Han gasp. Luke opened his eyes to see Han jerking himself off next to Din now.

Din's orgasm seemed to sneak up on him too; in a moment he was cumming right onto the dusty floor in the same silent way he usually did. That seemed good enough for Han, who followed suit.

"You two are terrible house guests," Luke mumbled. Really, he regretted not taking off his top and letting one or both of them cum onto him.

"I'm sure old Ben will forgive us," Han said. He leaned over and kissed Luke. "What do you think of my idea?"

Luke pushed himself into a sitting position, holding his hand carefully to avoid smearing cum everywhere. "Best idea you've ever had."

[mykingdomforasong]

Fic prompt - Han/Din/Luke out at dinner - one of them thinks they’re third wheeling but they’re actually on a Date

((Decided to make them all stupid.))

*~*~*

Luke was in pain. He looked down at his dinner plate, sure that if he made any attempt to eat it, he'd throw up. He was grinding his teeth together, pulling at a loose threat on his glove, ready to run out the door at any moment.

When Din had suggested this dinner, he expected he'd be able to handle it. So what if his best friend and probably the great love of his life was dating his student's father? So what if Luke had developed overwhelming, all-consuming feelings for that father too?

He could handle the dinner.

"You okay, Junior?" Han asked.

"Totally fine," Luke said, lying through his teeth.

Han looked strange too, Luke noticed. Maybe this whole operation was a bad idea.

Din rested a hand on Luke's knee, and Luke nearly jumped out of his chair.

"Sorry," Din said. But he left his hand there. Luke glanced at Han, who'd turned away.

~

Han felt stupid. Of course that's what this was. Din wasn't interested in him. They'd connected over their boys' training, and nothing else. Luke, like always, was the golden boy, the one everyone was after.

Han counted himself among the many after him.

Shortly after he and Leia separated, Luke had turned him down, not wanting to feel like "the backup." No matter what Han did or said, he never seemed to quite get through to Luke just what he meant to him.

And now some handsome Mandalorian daddy had scooped Luke up right out from under him.

Why he'd agreed to this dinner at all, he had no idea. Any excuse to see the two of them, he guessed. What a fucking moron he was.

~

Din had never been happier. His two partners already loved each other, which made bringing them together that much easier. He wasn't really taking his helmet off for them yet - just lifting it to eat and drink - but all of the feelings were there. There was intimacy like Din had never really shared with romantic partners before.

But tonight, both men seemed a bit ... strange. He tried not to think about it. It had been a long time since they'd last been together. And, anyway, they still weren't back together yet, just both dating Din. Din was hoping to change all of that soon.

Luke stood up suddenly. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this."

"Cyar'ike," Din said, reaching out for him, "what's wrong?"

"No, Luke, you stay," Han said. "I'm making this weird. I should leave," Han offered, standing.

"Why would you leave?" Luke asked.

"He's your Mando."

"He's not my anything," Luke said.

Din's face fell behind his helmet. Oh.

"You're not?" Din asked.

"What?" Luke asked.

"You're both ... precious to me," Din said.

"We're precious?" Din couldn't tell if Han's tone was mocking or bewildered. Probably both.

Luke sat back down. "What ... why are we here?" He asked.

Din stared at the table. "We're ... on a date. Having dinner together. I thought it was time we all had dinner together, instead of leaving one person out," Din said, not sure exactly where the confusion came from.

Both men stared at him confused. They were confused? Din was confused! Images of the intimacy between them all flashed through his mind -- his helmet tilted up for shared meals; Luke leaning his body on his for comfort; he and Han exchanging parenting stories; Han getting on his --

"I thought you were both --," Din paused. "I'm sorry, I wasn't very clear."

Han sat back down. "So we're," he pointed at Din, "dating?"

"Yes."

"And you're," he pointed back and forth between him and Luke, "dating?"

"Yes."

"So we're all," he made a circle with his finger, "dating?"

"That's why I asked us to have dinner. To figure that out."

Luke's face was in his hands.

"Did you really both not know?" Din asked. "I thought I was very obvious."

Han patted him on the shoulder. "Buddy," he paused, "guess that's not a great thing to call a boyfriend. ... Sweetie pie, you've never been obvious about anything."

[mykingdomforasong]

Character in Peril + Professor AU, skymandolo?

The angst part three -- [part one][part two]

cw for weed and alcohol use

[fanfiction tope mash up]

~

Furry and embarrassment tingled behind Luke's eyes as he drove home in waining light of the March afternoon. For the sake of other drivers, he willed himself not to cry until he made it to his small apartment across town. For many reasons, he loathed his choice to move to the car-crowded Southern California instead of New York, where he could have sobbed in peace on the subway, as fellow New Yorker's politely ignored him and silently thanked him for sobbing instead of throwing himself on the third rail and stalling their own trip home.

But Leia lived out here, and for that he was grateful. Before he's pealed out of Han's drive way as quickly as he could, he'd sent her a text, a simple: come over, bring drinks drink a crying face emoji.

He worried about what she might say to him as he pulled into his parking spot, and found her car already in the guest spot. She'd told him not to date Han in the first place. She's explained the logic behind it -- he was married, and Luke countered with the fact that the marriage was and always had been open. He was Luke's professor, and Luke explained "not anymore." And he wasn't an archeology or anthropology major. And it wasn't like he was some 19 year-old. He was a proper grown-up.

"Well, I still think it's a bad idea," she said.

"I think you'll like him. He's handsome." Luke pulled up his picture, and she did her best to act like she was unimpressed. But Luke saw through it. "He's not gay. He's bi. You know, if you're ever interested ..."

She kicked him gently from her spot on the other side of the couch.

Despite her (reluctantly confessed) attraction to his boyfriend, Leia had never approved of the arrangement.

With his car now in park, there was nothing Luke could do to keep himself from crying as he remembered the looked of betrayal and confusion on Din's face. Han hadn't told him they'd be there that afternoon, leaving Luke alone in their introduction. Han hadn't told Din the whole truth of who Luke was or how they'd met. Han was keeping him something of a secret. Luke had been clear with Han from the beginning that the one thing he didn't want was to be some sort of mistress or home-wrecker. It was the one thing Han promised Luke he could never be.

What a liar.

Luke brushed hot tears from his face as he climbed the steps to his apartment, but new ones just kept replacing the ones he wiped away.

Leia had let herself in and had poured them each a tequila shot and a margarita to accompany it. Luke had expected a bottle of wine or a few loose beers, but his twin sister always seemed to know exactly what any situation called for. She'd even gone through the effort of putting on The Devil Wears Prada and pausing it right at the start to wait for him.

His chest tightened with anxiety and defensiveness as he looked at her, bracing himself for the inevitable I told you so.

But Leia wasn't like their father that way -- her compassion always outweighed her need to be proven right. She stood up quickly, wordlessly, and wrapped him in a tight hug. Her long brown hair was braided loosely down her back, the hair covering the tips of her ears. So it wasn't until her chin was resting on Luke's shoulder that he noticed she'd been kind enough to tuck a joint behind her ear.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Leia asked as he pulled away.

"In a minute," Luke said, walking over to the table, taking the shot without the theatrics of the salt and lime. He chased it with sips of the margarita. "We should order a pizza or something. I don't have a lot of food here." He pressed play on the remote and the movie started playing.

"It's already on the way."

~

There was a corner in of the bedroom that was Din's alone, over by the large window. It had his bookshelf with his favorites proudly displayed -- cracked spines, a palimpsest of annotations, mismatched and disorganized post it notes all cluttering up the pages. One shelf had his private liquor collection, mostly tequilas and gins, but there was one bottle of whiskey labeled "Writer's Tears." It felt apt. Din grabbed it, opened it, and drank straight from the mouth of the bottle. He winced as he swallowed it. No doubt Han would appreciate its flavors. Han had always been the whiskey drinker between them. Han might have even bought this bottle for him, but Din couldn't remember.

Han had finally given up his pleas to be let back into their bedroom or to try and talk things out, accepting, it seemed, that Din needed time to think things over before moving into conversation and resolution.

Din stared at their bare mattress. He'd pulled all of their sheets off in a fit of rage and now he was left with the unpleasant task of getting a fitted sheet on the king-sized bed alone.

He rested the whiskey on the night stand as he stretched the sheet over one corner, tucking it under the mattress and preying it would stay. He crawled to the other side, but took the previous corner with him when he did. He flopped face down on the mattress, feeling weighed down by his own pathetic grief. He let himself lay there for a moment, before pushing himself back up to try again, this time more carefully.

As he stretched the corner of the sheet back over the mattress, he spotted a phone between the headboard and the mattress. He reached for it, worried for a moment that it was Luke's. But it wasn't. He recognized it as Han's easily enough. Han was the only man Din knew who was reckless enough to carry around his iPhone without a case.

Din rested it next to the whiskey bottle, and then returned to the sheet.

With the bed finally made, he laid down and held Han's phone in his hand in a quiet contemplation. He knew Han's passcode, but he'd never been the kind of husband to go through his phone. But, then again, Han had never been the kind of husband to have things worth hiding.

Din typed in the passcode.

Din half expected a dozen furious messages from Luke, or pleading messages, or 'I told you so's. But there was nothing. Din hoped Luke had made it home okay. That he was alright. Din certainly wasn't. He'd given up crying after a short while, then let himself panic about all the ways Han had risked their relationship and his career. Now he was just left with the emptiness of a freshly-made bed and the fullness of a whiskey bottle he never drank.

He opened Han's photos. There were only a few with Luke, ones innocent enough to deny. No kissing, intimacy, or nudity of the two of them. Just the two of them standing on a pier, or in front of a tank of jellyfish at the aquarium.

He couldn't bring himself to snoop through their texts. but as he stared at the screen looking at their most recent message -- Luke had sent "😊❤️" and nothing else -- he wondered again about how Luke was doing. Was he alone? Just as heartbroken? Or was he waiting for Han to follow him? Would Han follow him? Han's keys were out by the front door. He could easily leave and go to Luke if he wanted.

Din stood up quickly and cracked the bedroom door. He peered into the living room, and saw Han sitting on the couch, his head towards the TV, watching Breaking Bad with the volume turned low. Din closed the door before Han could turn around and spot him.

He let out a deep breath. He remembered what Han had said to him a few hours ago: "not you, never you." There was an easy pride in that for Din, to know his husband wouldn't choose the younger, prettier man over him, even though he easily could.

Maybe it was that assuredness that compelled him to unlock Han's phone again, and give Luke a call.

~

"It's Han," Luke said simply, looking at his phone as it vibrated on the table. They had a good buzz going, the both of them, and Leia had responded to Luke's recollection of events with her characteristic righteous indignation.

"Don't answer!" Leia said.

"Maybe I should. Maybe he's calling to end things officially. I might get closure," Luke countered.

"If that piece of shit is gonna break up with you over the phone after all of this --!"

"Alright! I won't answer --!"

"Let me answer it!" Leia said, reaching for the phone.

"Fine!" Luke said.

~

Din was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, hoping the bathroom door would put an additional layer of soundproofing between him and the living room so that Han might not overhear. He'd always hated being overheard while on the phone in any circumstance, and it made him cringe whenever Han answered a call in public. And anyway, if Han could have Luke-secrets, so could he.

A very angry woman answered the phone.

"Listen you dick. I'm sure you called to try and smooth things over however you think you can, but he doesn't want to talk to you. For your own sake, you should probably leave him alone."

Din had considered calling from his own phone, but he anticipate Luke thinking it was spam and ignoring it. Calling from Han's phone had been a risky choice, he knew, but this he didn't expect.

"Uh, sorry," was all Din said.

"I bet you are!"

"I'm not Han, I'm the husband. Din. Is Luke there?"

There was silence on the other line. He imagined the woman and Luke silently trying to communicate, mouthing words or whispering to each other.

"Look, this wasn't Luke's fault and he feels bad enough as it is, so if you just called to yell at him, I suggest you hang up."

"I didn't call to yell at him," Din said. "I wanted to see if he was okay."

"... Why?"

Din shrugged, although the woman couldn't hear it. "I didn't know if he had anyone to talk to. We were both hurt today. It was my husband's fault. Just thought I'd check in."

"And where is this husband? Why didn't he call?"

"He left his phone in the bedroom. I locked him out."

"Of the house?!" He couldn't tell if she was worried or impressed.

"Of the bedroom. He's on the couch."

"Oh. Luke is desperately reaching for the phone, so I'm going to let you talk to him."

"Okay, thanks," Din said.

~

Luke took the phone and the joint from Leia. He opened his bedroom window, sat on his bed, and lit up the joint as he started his second conversation with his boyfriend's husband.

"Hello?" Luke asked. What would they even talk about? He'd had his ear close to the phone as Leia talked to him. Did he really care about how he was doing? Had Han really managed to find a guy that nice and then still screw him over?

"Luke?"

"Yeah."

They were silent again.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Luke said, "that wasn't how I wanted to meet you."

"I figured," Din said. "How are you feeling?"

"Embarassed," Luke said, "a little sad. Kind of confused about why you'd call."

"I wanted to see if you were okay. Han left his phone in the room, so he couldn't reach out to you. I thought one of us should." Well, he thought, that was nice of him. "I didn't kick him out if you were wondering. Just making him sleep on the couch tonight."

"That's good. I never wanted to come between the two of you," Luke promised.

"You haven't. None of this is your fault," Din said. Luke teared up again, and he took another hit, hoping it would cover any wavering in his voice.

"I don't understand why he'd lie to you," Luke said.

"I don't think he expected to be with you for so long." There was a bluntness to Din's tone that rattled Luke; he couldn't tell if he was being insulted. "Sorry ..." Din tried to smooth his words over. "I meant, I think he thought it would be a fling. No need to worry me about him risking his career with an undergrad --"

"I'm twenty-seven!" Luke blurted quickly. "An undergrad, yeah, but I'm not, like, nineteen."

"I know, Han told me. But still. And then I think it went on for so long, he never figured out how to tell me."

"You were going to find out eventually," Luke said.

"Maybe," Din said. The words landed heavy in Luke's chest. Maybe Din would have found out. But Luke's relationship with Han was meant to be fleeting. It occurred to Luke, and not for the first time, that Din didn't have a boyfriend or two coming to the house. There were few boyfriends in Han's stories even, mostly hook ups, friends with benefits ... you haven't come between them, Luke thought, you were never enough of a threat for that.

Luke was starting to feel threatened by the phone call. Whatever Din had proclaimed his intentions to be, it seemed obvious to Luke that the real motive behind the call was to ensure Luke understood he was temporary in Han's life where Din was not. Even if this event was not his fault, it was his one-way ticket out of love with Han.

There were tears on his cheeks again, and his weak right hand, the muscles tight with scar tissue, shook as it brought the joint to his mouth again.

"Yeah," he said. as he took a drag. "I should go," he breathed out with the smoke. His head was starting to get lighter, the chronic nerve pain in his hand starting to dull, the world starting to blur.

"Wait!" Din said as Luke reached for the end call button. "I'd still like to meet you."

Luke almost laughed. "Why?"

There was a pause and Luke imagined Din was thinking of all the ways he could kill Luke and get away with it.

"I think Han really loves you," Din said.

Luke sobbed before pulling himself together. "Well, he's never said that to me."

"Still true. And I still think this whole relationship is dangerous, but it means something to Han."

"So you want to meet me to ... what? Find a way for us to stay together? Or to find a way for Han to end things nicely?"

"I guess that's between you and Han, I'd just like to ... know you a little more. If you might stay in his life I ... don't want you to feel like a secret. Not to me, at least."

Luke thought over the offer. He didn't know what to expect from Din. But he did love Han, even if he'd never said so much to him. It might be worth the meeting. Somewhere crowded and public so Din couldn't kill him.

"There's a coffee shop a good ways away from campus that I like," Luke said. "I can send you the address if you send me your number."

"Sure," Din said. "I'll send it when we hang up."

"Are you okay?" Luke finally asked.

"No," his voice was strained, "but I will be."

Din hung up suddenly, catching Luke off-guard.

He walked back into the living room where his sister was still watching The Devil Wears Prada and sipping on a remarkably strong margarita.

"How did that go?" She asked.

"I don't know," Luke answered honestly. "He's either the nicest guy in the world, or I'm about to be killed."

~

Din stepped out of the bedroom with intention now. Han heard the door open this time and spun around to look at him.

"You're still sleeping out here tonight," Din told him. "But here's your phone. I called Luke. He's doing okay. I don't know if he'd want to hear from you."

Han's eyes were wide. "You called him?"

"I wanted to make sure he was okay," Din answered.

Han looked confused, but he still took the phone. "I'm sorry," Han offered again.

"I know," Din said, before heading back to their bedroom alone.