Work Text:
~~
It was warm and safe and comfy. When Grogu turned his head, he felt his father’s skin against his face, and pressed close all along him right down to his toes. There was something unyielding against his back, and support from underneath him, and then Grogu knew that he was tucked inside, so safe and so warm and so good and so cozy. The steady, soothing thumping of life, alive, sounded in his ears and all down into his bones, it was so close to him.
He even had - he nuzzled around without opening his eyes until his mouth found that spot that felt like it was special for him, where his father could, and would, feed him until he was full and sleepy, even when there was no food to eat, no prey – warm, sweet milk that came as soon as he suckled. Grogu wiggled his toes, too happy to hold still.
He understood that the good sweet milk was from his father's body - that his father used his body to keep Grogu safe and fed and warm all the time, not just when Grogu was close like this. He put his body between Grogu and danger, between Grogu and other people, people who had sharp cold minds that were always always hungry, no matter what they consumed, they never got full. Grogu wondered briefly if that's why they were so endlessly hungry, if they didn't have a dad like he had, to hold them close and feed them until they were satisfied. He remembered what it was like for him before he’d had his father, but he tried not to think about it. He had his dad now. He was warm and safe and full and tucked inside and nothing could get him in here. Not needles or scalpels or blasters or lightsabers...
That rhythm against Grogu's body started going faster, and Grogu tried to stop thinking about those things - sometimes when he was frightened, he made the people around him scared too - but the heartbeat only got faster, his father's skin became damp with sweat, and then there was noise, and they were moving, quickly, and then -
There was a strange falling feeling, falling while his dad was still holding him. His nipple was pulled roughly from Grogu's mouth as they fell and hit the ground. Grogu was laying all crooked on top of him now and, and...
The rhythm was so fast, too fast, and then suddenly all at once it slowed - slowed impossibly, horribly - and then Grogu couldn't feel it or hear it at all anymore.
No. No no no no. Grogu braced his hands on his father's chest and pressed his power forward, into him. His father had told him not to do this, but how could that matter if he was dead, if -
There was movement against Grogu's back. Someone was lifting his father's armor away and that was wrong and not allowed, and Grogu tried to turn and look but...
A black-gloved hand reached into this secret safe place, and grabbed Grogu by the arm, holding too tight and pulling too hard. He thought there was a white armor plate on the glove at first, but then there wasn't, just black. That hand wrenched Grogu away from his father, so hard his shoulder popped and hurt and he grabbed desperately with his power trying to bring himself back close, but there was -
A humming sound, a sound he knew. And stinging sounds with it. The humming got louder and louder until it filled up Grogu's entire head, he couldn't hear anything else but that hum. He was jerked to and fro, and then he saw... a white helmet that shifted suddenly to a face he recognized, or thought he recognized, but the eyes were poisoned orange and yellow, and all the while the horrible loud humming was swooping through the air - there was bright blue light reflected in yellow eyes - then the humming got even louder and much rougher and the light became red, jagged and growling, and in the red light he could see a droid coming towards him with needles extended and he was being held down and
~~
A choking cry from Grogu startled Din awake, and the first thing he saw in the starlight through the windows was his child, floating, thrashing in the air a good meter above their bed – and half-panicked, he scrambled upright, snatched Grogu out of the air and his blaster from beside his pillow.
But there was nothing to aim it at, their room in the palace was peaceful and undisturbed, apart from Grogu, who struggled even harder in Din’s arms than he had in the air… and then Din realized what was happening.
He set his blaster down, and wrapped that arm too around Grogu, kneeling on the bed.
"Sshhh, it's okay kid, wake up," he murmured.
Grogu kept fighting, and he gave a gasping little moan that made Din’s stomach hurt.
"Oh cyar'ika," he whispered, "please, come on, wake up. Wake up."
Din was holding him as gently as he could without dropping him as he struggled. He tucked Grogu's head against his shoulder and bowed his own head to speak as softly as he could - he fell into a constant murmur of reassurances without trying or thinking about it. And after what must have been just a few seconds, Grogu jerked in his arms, and stopped fighting. He braced his little hands on Din's shoulder, pushed himself back, and blinked his big dark eyes open.
It was strange, but there didn't seem to be any of the haziness of an interrupted dream in them, only fear and sadness, and it made Din ache.
"Hey big guy," he said, trying to keep his voice gentle and steady.
Grogu's eyes roamed his face for a moment, his mouth trembling - and then his fragile little ribs heaved in Din's arms as he started to cry, tearless and silent. Din had already come to understand that the lack of tears was natural for him, but the silence was clearly learned and born of fear, and it wrenched at Din's core every time.
"Oh sweetheart," Din whispered as he stroked his hand over Grogu's back, cradled his head, "it was just a bad dream. You're ok, we're ok."
Grogu threw himself down into Din's arms in response, nuzzling his face into Din's chest, his little claws digging into Din's pecs on either side of his head.
"Easy, easy kiddo," Din murmured as he wrapped his arms tighter around his son, hugging him close, trying to soothe. "S'ok."
Grogu's grip stayed dug in, his head pressed close over Din's heart. When Din nudged at him, trying to lift him and give him a keldabe, he dug his claws in harder, refusing to be budged. Din bent down to him instead, snuggled against the top of his head, brushed his nose against the base of Grogu's ear. He had to swallow his own pained sounds as his child cried - it was as if the noises Grogu should have been making were being passed to Din.
They stayed like that for a moment, and the baby’s cries gradually began soften, his heaving breath slowing incrementally.
"Here," Din murmured, and took Grogu’s tiny wrist in his hand, tried to ease his hold off. He still wouldn't be moved, so Din shifted, arched his back a little and re-positioned himself, trying to encourage Grogu to nurse, but the baby didn't seem interested in his usual comfort. When Din tried again and nudged Grogu closer to his nipple, their progress towards calm was lost, and Grogu started to cry again - his body heaving in Din's arms and his breath rushing hot against Din's skin.
"Ok, you don’t have to," Din said, puzzled. “That usually makes you feel better, yeah?" It makes me feel better, he didn’t say, to give to you like that, to hold you.
Grogu whimpered and shook his head without lifting it again, rubbing his face back and forth over Din's pectoral, his ears smacking gently against him. He finally took his claws out of Din's skin and reached one hand to the center of Din's chest.
An impulse came over Din from he-wasn't-sure-where, and he murmured, "I'm right here, I'm ok. See, feel?" He put his hand over Grogu's, moved it slightly so that their hands were together right over his heart. "I'm right here with you, nobody hurt me."
Grogu lifted his face and looked up at him. He hiccuped and cried, but Din felt the tension in his little body begin to ease as he held his son’s hand and gaze. Tentatively, he tried again - gradually, gently, turning Grogu to lay down in his arms a little - without losing either point of connection. This time Grogu went, staring up at Din all the while, and when they were in a position more conducive to nursing, Din took his hand from Grogu’s, pressed it down between them and lifted his nipple into the baby's mouth as best he could.
"Here, cyar'ika, have some," he encouraged, "you'll feel better."
Grogu appeared to consider this, and then closed his mouth over Din's nipple at last, his eyes still open and fixed on Din's face. His usual steady rhythm did not come - he alternated between sucking too hard and making himself gulp and Din gasp, and losing his latch, his mouth going slack on Din's chest as remnants of his crying moved through him.
"Sweetheart," Din said helplessly.
"Din?"
Even though the door, Boba's voice was rough with sleep, and Din startled - he didn't have his helmet on - but then remembered that he didn’t have to rush for it. Boba had provided him with such security that it tipped over into luxury. Their room in the palace had a thin, opaque curtain hung between the door and the bulk of the space - Din could hear if the door opened, but whoever entered could not see him.
So you'll have a moment, Boba had said, when he’d shown Din the room, or so Fennec or I can come in if there's an emergency.
Din had drawn the curtain about two thirds of the way closed before they had gone to bed. He hadn't thought Grogu's nightmare had been that loud, but it must have been enough to wake their host.
"Come in," he said. He'd been speaking quietly to Grogu, and at full volume his own voice sounded rough too. He heard the door open, and then slide shut behind Boba as he entered.
"We're ok," Din said, still raspy. "He had a nightmare."
Boba grunted in affirmation. "I thought that might be it," he said. "The doors were shaking in their frames all down the hall."
A disturbance to the interior doors would have set off the palace's security alerts - no loud alarms, but quiet vibrations beneath their pillows that woke Boba, Fennec, and a few of the more trusted guards. Boba must have come here after he’d seen there were no intruders about.
"I'm sorry," Din said, pained to be disturbing Boba's rest, inconveniencing the household.
Grogu shuddered against his chest, sucked harder and whimpered. Din opened his mouth to reassure him he wasn't in trouble, that it wasn't his fault, but Boba was right there and might have a different opinion and -
"Not your fault." Boba's voice was a low rumble, and closer now - a scant distance away on the other side of the curtain. "Not his fault either."
Din cleared his throat before he spoke, trying to banish the sleep from his voice.
"Thank you," he said, more softly than he’d intended. With only the thin curtain between them, Boba heard him anyway, and hummed in acknowledgment. Something about the wordless sound, so close in the dark made Din suddenly and keenly aware of his state of undress, never mind that Boba couldn't see him - he had no armor and only a pair of sleep pants on. It was too hot to wear anything else to bed if you didn't need to, and Din didn't need to, not with Boba's hospitality as shelter. He was safer sleeping out of his armor here than he was anywhere but with his tribe – even the Razor Crest hadn’t allowed him that, as there was always the risk of being boarded while he slept.
He shivered as goosebumps skittered up his back despite the heat. Grogu burrowed closer in response, only one eye now turned up towards Din’s face, and Din shh'd him softly, and rubbed one hand in slow circles over his back. It seemed cruel and unfair that nightmares should find him now, when they were safer than they’d ever been together.
"I'll leave you be," Boba murmured. "Send me a comm signal if it happens again like this, and I'll let the others know to stand down."
"Thank you."
He heard the rustle of Boba's clothing as he turned away. His footsteps were a quiet whisper against the floor, and Din felt an odd twist in his belly at the thought of Boba coming to check on them in his bare feet.
He put the feeling aside, and the night began to shrink down and become just him and Grogu again. Grogu’s crying seemed truly done, his mouth now pulling steadily at Din’s nipple. A deep breath heaved in and out of his tiny body without interrupting his nursing, and it seemed to chase the last of his tension away as he went relaxed and soft in Din’s arms.
The sounds of Boba's retreat came to a stop, so Din wasn’t startled when he spoke again.
"I don't mean to overstep," he began. "He's not my ad, but - have you given any thought to his self-defense?"
Din looked up, and felt silly when he remembered he and Boba could not see one another.
"Sometimes that helps," Boba continued, sounding slightly awkward, "...with this kind of thing."
Din didn't know what to say. It wasn't over any boundaries or anything, but it was... different... than anything Boba had said about Grogu before. A strange little warmth grew in Din's core at the thought of discussing it, of making plans with Boba and Fennec to teach Grogu - not just to fight, but to take cover, to politely decline, to have good discernment and to trust his instincts.
He felt slightly overwhelmed at the idea and Grogu had other needs at the moment, so this too, he set aside. He took a page from Boba's book and only hummed in response. Boba seemed to take that as answer enough, and ducked out of the room.
The door slid shut behind him. Grogu didn’t quite flinch at the sound, but his claws and mouth twitched against Din’s chest.
"Shh, it’s ok,” Din said, lowering his voice again to the private little murmur that was just for them. “S’just Boba.”
He swayed a little, rocking his child gently in warm Tatooine night, while the starlight peered down at them through the windows.
“We’re safe here.”