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the drink will flow (and blood will spill)

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Han is bored and slightly drunk, not listening to whatever the diplomat is talking his ear off about. He tugs at his high collar, uncomfortable in the fancy get-up that Leia always insists he wear. He meets Chewie’s knowing look with one of his own and throws back the end of his drink.


Leia is off with Luke, chatting to some politician or other, so Han is reasonably confident in his ability to escape the party unseen. He moves towards the door, ignoring the diplomat’s indignant splutters as he makes his way through the room. He sees Chewie duck through the curtain and increases his speed. He’s only ten paces away from freedom when he spots something that makes him pause.


Mando has been cornered by a flock of idiots who don’t know how close they are to being punched. Han knows, though, since he has been in that position with Mando many times. There’s no sign of his scary advisor, Bo-Katan (who hates Han simply for being Han), and Mando seems to be struggling on his own. He sees the other man’s shoulders climbing higher and higher, spies those gloved fingers itching towards his blaster ( how did he even get that in here? Han thinks) and Han knows he has approximately four seconds to stop a diplomatic incident from occurring.


“Mand’alor,” he says as he slides up to the group and throws an arm around the shoulders of his - what, brother-in-law? Han’s not really sure, since every time he asks Luke about it, the kid gets a dopey look on his face and is lost in a daydream for the next hour. “I need to discuss the extraction mission with you.”


The Mandalorian nods, ignoring the disappointed sighs from around him. “Of course, General Solo.” He doesn’t even make an excuse, just spins on his heel and leaves his fan club without another word. It means Han is the one who has to face the soured looks, but really, it’s what he’s used to. 


He catches up with Mando and pulls him towards the exit, casting a quick glance over his shoulder for either of the siblings. “When I say go, be ready to run.”


“Solo, what the-”


Han sees one of Leia’s secretaries making a beeline for him and curses, shoving the Mandalorian through the door. “Go now!”


Han bolts through the doorway, rushing past another one of Leia’s minions. He can hear Mando’s heavy footsteps behind him and lets out a whoop of laughter as they run through the corridors and towards the exit. 


Chewie is waiting for them with a dubiously acquired speeder when they break outside. Han jumps in beside him while Mando silently climbs into the back. They peel off with the engine roaring and Han’s laughter echoing through the air.




“Do you normally do this?” At Han’s look of confusion, Din continues. “Leave, I mean.”


They’re sitting in a cantina a few hundred levels lower than where they’re supposed to be with drinks in front of them strong enough to even raise Han’s eyebrows. Chewie had ordered for them, making sure to get a straw for Din.


Han rolls his shoulders, grinning at him. “Whenever we can, yeah. Leia usually catches us, but she gets more distracted when Luke is there. Has to keep him out of trouble.”


Din snorts in understanding, taking a long sip of his drink. “I’m not surprised, the man is a menace.”


Chewie lets out a roar of laughter as Han snickers. Din smiles under his helmet, even as his eyes scan the room for threats. He hates being anywhere this crowded, especially when most of his weapons are back in the apartment, and his armor draws eyes even as it discourages anyone from coming too close. Quite honestly, he doesn’t know why he followed Han and Chewie instead of making his way home to Grogu. Maybe it’s because he’s been bored these past few weeks on Coruscant playing politics with Bo-Katan and being a trophy-husband to Luke - not that he minds spending time with Luke, the opposite in fact, but Din would rather be in their home on Mandalore than practicing his social skills with Coruscant nobles.


“Hey King Buckethead,” Han calls, making him snap back to attention. “If you’re not too busy ignoring us, the next round is on you.”


Din sighs, sliding out of their booth and walking up to the bar. The bartender has three drinks waiting for him as soon as he steps up, a nervous look on his face as his eyes dart behind Din to their booth. Din can’t help but smirk - the man should’ve known better than to try overcharging a Wookie. He takes the tray, turning back to the table before he pauses.


If he’s being honest, he doesn’t spend much time with Han and Chewie. They, (semi-)former smugglers, were wary of him, a (semi-)former bounty hunter, when they first met and they haven’t had much chance to get past that, but maybe tonight they could change that. He thinks of how happy Luke would be if Din was on good terms with someone other than Leia. He remembers the warmth he felt the first time he saw Cara and Luke laughing over some stupid joke he didn’t (and still doesn’t) understand. 


Din leaves a pile of credits on the counter and tells the bartender to keep the drinks coming.




Luke weaves his way through the crowd, anxiously scanning for Din. He’d left him by the wall when he’d had to go rescue Leia but got caught up in the conversation, and now he can’t spot his husband anywhere. 


He searches through the Force for any sign of the Mandalorian but the only beskar-clad figure he senses is an irate and slightly panicked Bo-Katan. He moves towards her, flinching slightly when she catches sight of him and glares.


“Where is he?” she hisses through clenched teeth. Luke thinks he even hears a crack. “He wasn’t meant to leave your side, Jetii -”


“I swear I only left him for a second,” Luke protests. “I had to go help Leia with some asshole!”


Bo-Katan gives him the stink-eye. “You abandoned the king of Mandalore, your defenseless husband,” she says disbelievingly, ignoring Luke’s feeble protests, “to go help Senator Organa , who eats idiots for breakfast?”


“It was more to stop me from strangling the man,” Leia interjects, appearing at Luke’s elbow. He sighs in relief; Leia and Bo-Katan get on surprisingly well. “But that’s not important now; I know where he’s gone.” She pauses, an annoyed frown on her face. “Well, more like I know who he’s with.”


Luke knows that tone; it’s the tone reserved solely for his brother-in-law, whenever Han has done something to piss Leia off beyond the norm. It sends a tingle of unease down Luke’s spine. “Please tell me you don’t mean…”


“Oh yes,” Leia grimaces as Bo-Katan looks between them in confusion, “They’ve gone drinking.”




They don’t notice the time passing or the glasses piling up on their table; they’re too busy telling ridiculous stories about smuggling or bounty hunting, trying to out-do the others. At some point they decide to arm wrestle, which leads to Han falling off his seat in his attempt to win and dragging Mando down with him.


“S’rry, Mando,” Han manages to say through their laughter, but the other man only pulls him off the ground and into a bear hug, telling him, words slurred and sappy, “Call me Din.”


They get kicked out soon after that when Chewie decides to teach them a Wookiee lullaby. Chewie sobs in outrage as they sit on the curb outside the cantina while Din consoles him, rubbing his back and drunkenly telling him that not everyone can appreciate the beauty of the Shyriiwook language. This in turn leads to a competition between Han and Din over who knows the most curse words, with Chewie acting as the judge.


They stumble past another cantina, deciding to go in for one last drink and getting kicked out two hours later when Han gets into a fistfight. The fight starts with Han asking for a pink umbrella for Chewie’s drink and ends with his assailant getting a beskar fist in the gut and the three of them being thrown out the door. Din is yelling obscenities at a volume Han didn’t even know the Mandalorian’s voice could reach, Chewie holding him back, and Han realises that he’s having the best night ever.


Han tells them this, and then tells Din he loves him; Din replies that he’s flattered but married, and Chewie scoops the two of them up into a hug so tight that Han feels his ribs creak. 




They get back to Leia’s apartment as it’s starting to get bright. The door creaks open ominously as the three of them creep in, trying not to make noise. There’s no point, they realise, as they get a few feet in the door and see Luke and Leia waiting for them.


“Where have you been?” Leia demands furiously as Luke stares at them open-mouthed. “You’ve been missing for hours and you come stumbling home smelling like the bad end of a bantha!”


Han glares as he hoists Din upright. “Well ‘scuse me , your… your Highness,” he says snottily, “but some of us like spendin’ our time havin’ fun, not - not being all-all-all - whatsa word, Chewie?”


Chewie moans and Din giggles from where he’s slumped between them as Leia stares incredulously at them, her jaw working furiously. Luke has his hand up to cover his mouth and his shoulders are shaking.


“‘nd anyway,” Han continues, “since when do I need premi-permission to do anythin’?”


Leia closes her eyes, as if asking for patience, before she turns to Luke. “You take yours and I’ll take mine. Chewie, go to bed.”




Din seems to have found his second wind when Luke goes to gather him up off the floor. He ignores Leia’s snort as Din staggers to his feet and picks Luke up, throwing him over his shoulder and marching towards their room. He throws his sister a “ kriff off ” from where he hangs down Din’s back as she collapses into laughter. Then the door is closing and he’s being thrown on the bed. 


He sits up with a laugh, biting his lip as Din steps up close to him. “Stay there, cyar’ika ,” Din rumbles, pushing Luke’s shoulder down until he’s resting on his elbows, “and don’t move.”


Din takes a few steps back before he starts to toe off his boots, his holster and gloves quickly following. Luke’s grin drops as his mouth falls open when Din removes his left pauldron and tosses it carelessly to one side. His brain starts to short-circuit when the rest of the armor joins it with a loud clang and then Din starts to slowly pull down the zipper of the flight suit he wears underneath.


“What-” Luke chokes out, “What are you-”


Din shushes him and steps out of the flight suit, left in nothing but his helmet and underwear. He stands there with his hands on his hips, and says, “Well?”


There’s a long moment of silence where Luke tries to contain his laughter. “Well what?” he asks, so overcome with affection for the ridiculous man in front of him.


Din’s head tips to one side almost comically. “Aren’t you going to say please?”


Luke grins in delight, leaning up into Din’s space. “ Please , Mand’alor,” he purrs, only to yelp a second later when Din lunges at him with a growl. 


The helmet is lost somewhere in the mayhem of laughter and teasing kisses as they roll around the bed. Luke knows Din is at his most comfortable when it’s just the two of them, but he’s never been like this before - so playful and silly. The thought hurts a bit even as it warms him.


Their laughter quietens down as hands become slower, eyes growing tired as the sun rises higher. Din leaves butterfly kisses along Luke’s neck, whispering in Mando’a as he goes. Luke doesn’t catch all of it  - not yet - but what he does understand makes his cheeks hurt with how hard he’s smiling. He sleepily traces his fingers up and down Din’s spine, drawing constellations and connecting freckles. 


“I know you don’t like Coruscant,” he whispers, moving his hand up to play with the ends of Din’s hair, “because of the noise and the people, so why don’t we go somewhere after this? Somewhere quiet and hidden, where it’s just you and me and Grogu, and we’ll spend every day in the sun, and every night it’ll be just like this.”


Din nuzzles further into Luke’s neck, his breath tickling Luke’s skin. “As long as you and Grogu are with me, I don’t care where we are,” he says, his words thick and slurred.


Luke’s throat is suddenly tight and he can feel the sting of tears in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how freely you love me,” he murmurs. “I wish I was as good as you at saying I love you. Because I do, cyar’ika ; I love you more than the galaxy itself.”


Din’s reply is a resounding snore in Luke’s ear.




Leia can’t help but laugh, hours later, when Luke stumbles in with love bites all over his neck and chest. He throws her a glare while he grabs a cup of kaf and leans down to kiss Grogu on the head, Bo-Katan eyeing him distastefully as she tries to feed the child.


“You look tired, Luke,” Leia tells him sweetly, a wicked glint in her eye. “Did you manage to sleep at all?”


He doesn’t dignify her with a response, instead gathering a plate of food and retreating to his room. “Excuse me but I need to take care of my husband,” he tells them. “Some Corellian scoundrel kidnapped him and now I must nurse him back to health.” 


They’re still laughing at him by the time he gets back from giving Din the food. He rolls his eyes but joins in, unable to suppress his amusement at the whole thing. The conversation flows easily, even when the door opens and Paz slides in. He and Bo-Katan start needling each other in a way that has Luke and Leia roaring in laughter and Grogu burbling happily. 


“Buh?” Grogu says from where he sits in Luke’s arms, eyes drawn to where Din has entered the room. Luke looks up and chokes on air. His husband is standing in nothing but sleep pants and his helmet. Miles and miles of tan skin and lean muscles are on display, from his wide shoulders down to the line of wiry hair that leads teasingly to the waistband of his pants. 


“Only one of you should be drooling,” Bo-Katan’s voice cuts through Luke’s daze; he blinks, confused, before seeing Leia’s blushing face and Paz’s defensive posture. He sniggers gleefully, only to cut himself off when Din rounds the table and slides into the seat next of him, his hand reaching over to squeeze the back of Luke’s neck. 


“Good morning, ad’ika ,” Din murmurs to Grogu, his fingers tangling with his son’s. A joint sigh is heard through the room at the soft display that not even Bo-Katan is immune to.


“How are you this morning?” Leia asks with a grin. “Hope your head isn’t too sore.”


Din sighs, taking Grogu into his arms. “I must thank your husband for an enjoyable evening,” he says mildly. “I look forward to the next one.”


“Next one?” Leia cackles. “Keep dreaming, because the two of you are never allowed within three feet of each other without proper supervision.”


Luke can feel the amusement dripping off Din, and he’s sure Leia can too, as the Mandalorian laughs, “We’ll see about that.”




Several months later, at another mind-numbingly boring party, Han watches in trepidation as Bo-Katan approaches with a face like thunder.


“Apologies for the interruption, Senator Organa, but the Mand’alor requests the presence of General Solo,” she says through clenched teeth. “Apparently there is a matter of great urgency they need to discuss.”


Leia gives Han the stink eye. “Is there, hmm? Thank you, Kryze; we’ll head over to him now.” Han, meanwhile, is already scanning the room and spots Din over by the door.


“I’m afraid he only wishes to see General Solo,” Bo-Katan grounds out, “but he instructed me to tell you that your brother is in need of your assistance in calming down Admiral Ackbar who witnessed something unfortunate,” and Han wonders if he’s imagining her face going red. “There was an, um, incident in the western hallway and General Skywalker, to quote the Mand’alor, ‘ won’t be able to walk for a week .’” 


There’s a long pause.


Then, “I’ll murder him.”


Han can hardly contain his hoot of laughter as Leia takes off across the room, snarling about her tart of a brother and what she’ll do when she gets her hands on him. Bo-Katan trails her forlornly, as if seriously doubting the life decisions she’s made that have led her to this point, and Han takes the opportunity to sidle over to where the Mandalorian is waiting.


“You ready?” Din asks him as they head out to where Chewie waits with another borrowed speeder.


“Always,” Han grins with a wink. “First round is on me.”