#also me: takes ~700 words to get to the actual meteor shower in a ~1000 word fic

[leofrith]

sensory prompt #1 with din&grogu :’))))))))

the way i told you this was gonna be all fluff and i still managed to make it kinda very sad lmao sorryyyyyyyyyy

from this prompt list!

AO3

The Razor Crest’s landing gear creaks as the ship touches down on the moon’s grassy surface.

There is no reason for them to be here, not really—the Crest is fully stocked and fueled, and even if it wasn’t, this place has no known population center to speak of. The nameless forest moon serves only as a waypoint for them to stretch their legs and breathe fresh air before flying the remaining distance to Tython.

Din knows, even as he powers down the ship’s engines, that this stop is wholly unnecessary, except perhaps to soothe the kid’s uncharacteristically foul mood by taking a few hours to rest on solid ground. But the truth is that Din will take any excuse to hold on to the kid just a bit longer, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He has known it since before Ahsoka, since before Bo-Katan—that every lead dried up is only prolonging the inevitable heartache of saying goodbye.

It isn’t too often that the kid—Grogu, he reminds himself, and God will that ever take some getting used to—is restless or cranky. Even so, the journey from Corvus so far has been spent watching the baby oscillate between whining quietly and pouting silently in the passenger seat as if he can sense every bit of his caretaker’s inner turmoil.

Din thinks of anxiously pacing back and forth for far too long, feeling the crunch of dead branches under his boots and not much else, while Ahsoka and the kid spoke to each other without uttering a single word between them.

Of course the kid can sense it, Din muses. He has never been good at quieting his mind.

He descends the Crest’s boarding ramp and places the kid on the ground, surrounded by grass that is almost tall enough to swallow his tiny body.

The forest that surrounds them is livelier than that of Corvus, green and loud with wildlife settling down for the night as the last sliver of sun dips out of sight behind the treeline. Winding through the clearing ahead of them is a shallow creek, and Din can hear the gentle current bubbling along the rocks. On the water’s edge is a large, slanted boulder, which he immediately registers as a place to rest and keep watch while the kid investigates his new surroundings.

Except—

Except instead of immediately toddling away to explore the clearing like he usually would, the kid remains at his feet, looking up at him in a way that Din can only describe as utterly despondent.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Don’t you want to look around?”

The baby whines softly and lifts his arms, a request that Din has come to recognize.

They are surrounded by all manner of creatures to chase, plants to inspect, new sounds to investigate, and Grogu wants nothing to do with any of it.

Din bends down to scoop the kid up, and he immediately settles.

He thinks about what Ahsoka said about the danger of attachment. He thinks they would both be better off if he were to freeze the kid out now. It would make the inevitable goodbye hurt so much less.

For both of them.

Instead, he holds the kid close and makes no move to loosen his grip.

Din settles on top of the boulder with the baby cradled in one arm while he removes his cuisses with the other, laying them on the stone next to him with reverence. Then he bends his knees just far enough away from his chest that Grogu can sit on his thighs with his feet resting on Din’s stomach.  

The kid stares up into his visor. He stares down at the kid.

“What’s gotten into you today, huh?” he asks.

A stupid question, really; he knows exactly what’s wrong. He’s never had to make much of an effort to hide his feelings under the cover of his helmet, but then, he’s also never been in the presence of a mind-reading sorcerer, either.

“I’m sorry for being so… loud,” he says softly, running a gloved finger along the shell of an ear.

The kid coos and raises a hand to rest it on the hollowed cheek of his helmet, and the gesture feels like a comfort he doesn’t deserve.

Din is still looking down at the kid, who is slow blinking up at him, when he sees the reflection of the sky in those huge, dark eyes. When he looks up, he sees the faint line of a meteor shoot by overhead. Then another, and another, all streaking across the sky in rapid succession before flickering out of sight just as quickly.

“Oh,” Din breathes out. “Didn’t land here expecting a show, huh kid?”

When he looks down again the baby is gazing skyward, the stars reflecting in his big, dark eyes like small galaxies. His little mouth is agape in awe and he has gone completely silent, already an oddity when he’s awake, and the first time he has been truly calm since they left Corvus.

Din is struck by the thought that this is likely the first time the kid has seen a meteor shower—he had spent nearly half of his life on Coruscant, where the city lights are too bright to see the stars, and after being taken from the temple…

If what Ahsoka said is correct, he isn’t sure how much the kid got to see outside the confines of his hover-pram.

None of that matters now, he decides; not when the kid is staring up at the sky with wonder, at the twinkling stars and nebulous gas and flickering meteorites. Din can’t help but smile.

Grogu has always been fond of shiny things.

Without averting his gaze from the stars, the kid blindly reaches up for Din’s hand, which is still running over the shell of his ear. Din obliges the silent request and pulls off his gloves, laying them over his cuisses, and lets the baby grasp a finger in his grip. He doesn’t think twice before he raises his free hand to a soft cheek, lightly stroking it.

For just one more night, Din doesn’t want to think about letting the kid go.

So he holds him close, looks to the stars, and forgets.