Chapter Text
Din has never been to a wedding before.
Well, he’s been to a few of the tribe’s marriage celebrations, but from what he can tell, the tribe’s way of doing things is very much not the norm. He did once have to apprehend a bounty at a wedding reception - a big fancy affair on Raldo Eight - but he doesn’t think that can really be counted as going to the wedding. Ruining it, maybe, but it’s not his fault the best man jumped bail to attend.
He isn’t sure exactly what to expect when he and Grogu sweep over rippling water and verdant clifftops towards the coordinates Vari had given them, but it isn’t his first time on Naboo and he knows anything this far out of the city will either be very basic or very luxurious. When they come to a wide, calm lake that shines like molten gold in the morning sun, and he sees the collection of elegant pale stone and blue domed buildings clustered beside it, all he can do is sigh. By the time they're standing on a lush terrace with a truly stunning view of the lake and the surrounding hills, waiting for the start of the ceremony, he feels much worse.
“She’s not a snob,” Vari insists for the third time since their arrival, adjusting her grip on a very squirmy Grogu. “And even if she was, you’re my guest. You’re allowed to be here.”
She’s wearing her new armour over a deep blue flight suit, the sun shining blindingly on each golden plate. The two of them must look ridiculous standing next to each other, though to be fair, they would be difficult to look at directly at all without protective eyewear in light like this. He’d polished his armour to a reflective sheen that morning too. Her helmet is hooked onto a belt at her waist, though, while his remains, as always, on his head. She’s wearing makeup again, and there's something weird about her face. Not bad weird - just weird.
Many rows of stone benches have been set up facing the view, separated into two sections by a flower-lined aisle. At the far end is an arch formed of flowering vines and foliage. The same vines climb up the outer walls of the building and part of the stone balustrade, the brightly coloured local flowers scattered throughout providing a fragrant whimsy to the tranquil scene. It’s lovely. Luxurious but tasteful, which is an unusual combination in Din’s experience. Maybe it’s because he only goes to fancy places to chase bounties, and the type of people who have bounty hunters after them tend not to be too classy.
When it’s time to sit, they settle fairly close to the front so that Vari doesn’t have to go very far to give the reading the bride asked her to do (a Nabooian poem, apparently), so Din can’t see most of the guests without turning around, and he doesn't want to be rude even if it makes his skin itch to have his back to so many strangers. The crowd seems to be mostly humans, like the couple, and there’s a fair few people in New Republic military uniforms. The couple getting married are beautiful together - the groom pale with fiery red hair and the bride dark with tightly coiled curls framing her head like a halo - and the two of them standing in front of the flowery arch is really nice to look at. Grogu is so enraptured that he doesn’t even fidget during the ceremony.
Next they’re ushered into a breezy atrium decorated with the same flowers as the terrace outside, and the adults are immediately handed tall stemmed glasses of something fizzy. It happens too fast for Din to decline, and in a rare impulsive moment, he tips up the bottom of his helmet to take a swig. It’s good. A bit sweet, but refreshing. There are small round tables dotted around the room, but people seem to be standing wherever they want in little clumps.
There are waiters walking around with trays of food, and he hears an excited “bweh!” from the hungry green child. Din takes his son from Vari’s arms, knowing he’s less likely to try floating entire trays towards himself if his father is the one holding him.
“There’s more food coming later,” Vari tells him, “so make sure he doesn’t fill up too much on canapés.”
Din huffs a laugh, looking down at the kid’s wide, excited eyes. “I don’t think we have to worry about him running out of space.”
While Vari goes to chat with some acquaintances, Din lets Grogu lead the way around the room by pointing at the food he wants. The kid's allowed to take one piece from each tray (“you gotta leave some for everyone else, kid,”) and has the staff and guests fawning over him as he delicately floats each tiny portion towards himself before stuffing it inelegantly into his mouth. The attention means Din can’t take another sip of his drink, and he eventually abandons it on one of the round tables.
Grogu is just stuffing a tiny meat-filled pastry into his mouth when Din spots a familiar face and freezes. Before he can decide how he wants to react, the other man sees him and they both stare at each other in shock.
“Captain Teva,” he says eventually, trying to keep his tone neutral.
Teva looks to be more confused than he is. He has stopped with some sort of vegetable fritter halfway to his mouth and is blinking rapidly as if he thinks Din is some kind of hallucination that might disappear if he keeps reopening his eyes.
“Mando,” he says eventually, coughing afterwards to clear his throat. “What are you-? Why-? Uh, how do you know Tib and Talianna?”
In his state of bewilderment, Teva forgets the fritter he’s holding and it is gently removed from his hand by an invisible force.
“I don’t,” Din replies, pretending he doesn’t see the floating fritter. “I’m here with a friend - she knows the bride.”
“Ah,” Teva says, and he’s regaining some of the movement in his limbs. “The gold mando?”
Din nods, and Teva’s friends, all wearing the same military dress uniform as the Captain, decide it’s time to jump in on the conversation.
“You gonna introduce us to your friend, Carson?” says one, a brown haired human with a mischievous look about him.
“Yeah, how do you know a mando?” says another, this one an orange Twi’lek.
Din talks to Teva’s friends for a good twenty minutes, at first trying his best to answer their many questions without sharing too much about himself or Mandalore (or getting Teva in any trouble), and then just enjoying their banter and teasing of each other. Their easy camaraderie is nice, and it reminds him of Cara. Unfortunately his comfortable position as observer can’t last forever. The brown-haired human (Ovie, apparently), comes to stand beside him, putting his drink down on the small round table. “So. Mando,” he says. “You ever flown an X-wing?”
“No.” He’s never felt particularly inclined to fly an X-wing. He knows it’s a decent ship, but there are plenty of better ones.
The pilot isn’t put off by Din’s one-word answer, apparently. “Oh man, you’ve gotta try an X-wing. What kind of ship you got right now?”
“Modified N1 starfighter. Very fast,” he replies.
“You a good pilot?”
“I get by.”
Din can see Teva frowning at Ovie, and he looks like he’d like to interrupt if he weren’t occupied with his own conversation.
“You know,” Ovie says, and it seems he’s noticed Teva’s frown if the way he shifts in front of Din to block the other man’s view is anything to go by. He rests an arm on the little round table and taps finger on it as he takes another sip of his drink. He’s leaning in pretty close now. Is he-? With Din’s son right there? Surely not. Grogu wriggles in Din’s arms, pulling a face at the X-wing pilot invading their space.
Ovie is staring quite intently into Din’s visor and eventually continues: “we could use some more good pilots out in the mid rim right now. I can’t say too much about it, but we’re starting to think it’s not just pirates.”
Oh, ok. That’s- That makes more sense. He's not sure why this guy thinks he needs to get this close to make a job offer. “Are you trying to recruit me?” he asks, hefting Grogu a bit higher so the kid can see the food tray approaching them over Ovie’s shoulder. The child immediately calms, focused on claiming one of the miniature meat pastries.
The pilot shrugs. “I’m not expecting you to want to join up full time. If you wanted that you’d have done it already, and I’m sure you’ve got your own stuff going on. Just- if your arrangement with Carson’s not exclusive and you find yourself looking for more work, we’ve got an opening.”
Din considers the man in front of him. He seems genuine, disconcerting flirtatiousness aside, and Din’s pretty sure he knows what ‘not just pirates’ means. “I’m interested.”
Ovie’s smile takes on a more satisfied air and he pulls a chit out of his pocket. “Here’s my comm code. Call me.”
Din takes it, feeling more than a little awkward, and stashes it in a pocket on his belt.
“Hey, who’s your new friend?” It’s Vari. Grogu gives a delighted squeal and waves at her with a crumb-covered claw as she steps up beside them. She spares a moment to wave back at the child before turning to Ovie with a blisteringly bright smile. Ovie backs up a little now that Vari is there, giving Din more space to breathe and think about his offer.
After the reception is a dinner, and it turns out that Vari’s friend, after hearing that Din couldn’t eat with everyone else, has arranged a private room for him. It’s a good meal. Real good. So good that he wonders how Vari is faring with Grogu back in the main dining room - the kid will be trying to take a second helping of every dish for sure.
There’s also quite a lot of wine. He hadn’t really been intending to drink at this wedding - he rarely does, and especially not in an unfamiliar environment with unfamiliar people - but he’s at a rich person’s wedding on a peaceful planet surrounded by New Republic military. He can afford to have a little bit of wine.
Unfortunately portion control isn’t easy when you’re not used to drinking. He does not drink all of what’s provided for him, but when he slips his helmet back on and stands, he has to grip the back of his chair to keep from losing balance. That was definitely not part of his plan for today, but he feels so nice it’s hard to care.
By the time he slips back into his seat next to Grogu and Vari in the main dining hall he’s accepted that he’s drunk and hopes the huge amount of food he ate will soak it up before anyone else notices. Vari notices immediately, of course, and finds it absolutely hysterical.
It’s nice. It’s nice to be relaxed, to spend time with a friend, to give Grogu a good memory in a place that’s clean and pleasant. To not be in immediate danger. To be a little bit drunk.
He’s worked out what’s weird about Vari’s face, too. She’s prettier than usual. The makeup might be helping, but he thinks it’s the beskar. He wants to tell her as much, but before he does, the orange Twi’lek pilot from earlier asks her to dance. Din’s not sure where the uneasy feeling comes from as he watches them walk away.
The rest of the party is fairly uneventful. Grogu is sleepy, but seems happy enough to be there, so Din doesn’t take him back to the room right away. He makes conversation with the few guests brave enough to approach him and talks to them less and less as he sobers up. At one point he has to duck into a side room and swig down some water to chase away the ghost of a headache, and it seems to do the trick.
It’s pretty late by the time Grogu looks like he’s had enough. A few more snacks are served, which the kid gleefully gobbles down, and with his newly full belly, the constant chatter, music, and the warm night air, he starts yawning and nestling against Din’s cuirass to find a comfortable place to sleep.
“I think it’s time to get you to bed, buddy,” Din says, rubbing a thumb over his son’s hand. The child blinks at him slowly. “We just need to say thank you to the bride and groom and tell Vari we’re leaving. Think you can stay awake for that?”
The child doesn’t respond, of course, but nor does he close his eyes.
It doesn’t take long for them to track down the bride - she’s on the terrace overlooking the lake, talking with some friends. They notice his approach, of course, and the looks the friends give him vary between wary and curious. In contrast, the bride smiles widely.
“Are you leaving?” she asks, her eyes drawn to the sleepy bundle of child resting in the crook of Din’s arm.
“Yes,” he replies. He’s not quite sure what etiquette requires of him right now, and hesitates before he continues. “I want to thank you for your hospitality today. You have been very generous. I hope you have a long and happy marriage.”
The bride brushes off his thanks with a casual wave of her elegant hand. “Please, we were happy to have you here. You two have been better behaved than most of our guests and I was worried about Vari coming alone.”
Din blinks. “Why?”
“Well, you know,” she says, shrugging. “Rupen. The breakup. It's been a long time, but this is her first wedding since hers got cancelled. It's hard, isn't it? It's better she had a friend with her."
What?
He stares at her in silence for a beat - long enough for her to realise she’s misstepped.
“Sorry,” she says, her smile faltering slightly as her friends who are still listening glance at each other. “It’s not that she’s- I wasn’t expecting a breakdown or anything, I’m sure she’s over it. It’s just hard.”
He and Vari have discussed a lot of very personal things over the course of their friendship. He's told her things he's never told anyone. Apparently it's a much more one way arrangement than he thought. She's mentioned a man called Rupen before - a Chandrilan she met while working with the rebellion - but she never said they were engaged to be married. He’s- not offended, exactly, but he definitely feels something about that.
He nearly asks the bride to explain, but the question sticks in his throat. Instead, he says, “do you know where your husband is? I would like to express our gratitude to him as well.”
It looks like he’s hidden his discomfort well enough (or perhaps she’s just happy to move on from the awkward topic), since the woman’s smile comes back to full brightness, this time with a glint of mischief. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother. He’s too drunk to remember it anyway. I’ll pass along your thanks in the morning.”
He inclines his head to her, glad he now only has to track down one more person before finding their room.
He walks along the terrace, scanning the space for Vari and trying not to think about what her friend told him, before venturing back inside where the music is louder. Grogu turns his face to press into his father’s armour, his ears low, and Din puts a gentle hand over the child’s head. They should have left earlier.
“Mando!” It’s the Twi’lek pilot. He’s looking a little worse for wear as he stumbles towards Din from the back of the room, the multicoloured lights of the dance floor casting strange shades on his orange skin. He stops a few steps away, grinning. “Your woman’s drunk. You should come get her.”
Din sighs. He doesn’t bother to correct ‘your woman’ - he just asks, “where is she?”
Qixon leads him through the back of the room to another terrace, separate to the one the bride and her friends are on. This one is much more raucous. Grogu perks up a little, and points drowsily at a very red-faced Captain Teva almost falling asleep against a large potted plant, surrounded by the pilots from earlier, who are having a very loud and very enthusiastic conversation about hyperdrive fuel. There are a few more military types off to the side drunkenly singing something he doesn’t recognise - or trying to sing it, anyway. They don’t seem to remember the words very well. Most prominent on this terrace, however, is an upturned crate being used as a sabacc table with a small crowd gathered around it heckling and cheering.
Din isn’t remotely surprised to see Varia sitting at the table with a heap of credits in front of her.
As he and the Twi'lek approach, she slaps her cards onto the table with an almost demented cackle, sweeping more credits into her pile.
“She’s cheating!” exclaims a sour looking man as his credits join the others. He folds his arms. There are a few more grumbles from around the table, but the crowd is on Vari’s side.
“She’s not, man,” says a woman standing behind Vari. She gestures to the table with her drink, slopping beer onto the pale stone of the terrace. “I can see everything she’s doing.”
Vari takes another swig of her wine, grinning. “Not my fault you have the sabacc face of a pimlet cub.”
The man’s face goes red and he opens his mouth to speak, but it’s at that moment that Vari spots Din and Grogu and leaps to her feet.
“Hey!” she greets them with a dazzling (if drunken) smile. She unbalances slightly but doesn’t seem to notice the people behind her pushing her back upright. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Isn’t it Grogu’s bedtime?”
Din was ready to be annoyed - he’s never had much patience with drunk people - but the blearily delighted look on Vari’s face is too endearing.
“I think it’s your bedtime too,” he says, huffing a laugh.
Vari responds with a pffft, but then sways on her feet and has to lean on a nearby Mon Calamari for balance (much to the man’s surprise). She giggles out an apology and admits, “yeah, ok, maybe.”
“Come on,” Din says, offering his hand.
Vari holds up a finger and then turns back to the sabacc table to scoop up her winnings. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that a lot of credits drop back onto the table or the floor, and turns back to Din with a grin and a large clump of loose credits held between her hands. Her hands now occupied, he puts an arm around her shoulders instead to help keep her balanced, and she leans into him heavily. Din scans her form to make sure she hasn’t lost any pieces of armour, and once he’s satisfied that it’s all there, he steers her off the terrace.
“Bye!” the orange Twi'lek shouts after them, waving sloppily. A few more voices call out their farewells, but Vari doesn’t seem to notice them. She’s too busy making faces at a groggily amused Grogu.
Din leads his two charges across the dance floor back towards the main part of the hotel, stopping only once to let Vari drop her newly-won credits on the gift table.
Din had been planning to just leave at the end of the wedding and sleep in the N1 on the way back to Nevarro, but Vari convinces him that there's plenty of space in her room for all three of them. The walk is longer than he expected, especially since he’s relying on Vari’s directions to find it. Her hands now free of credits, she wraps one arm around Din for balance, settling her hand on his waist, lets Grogu hold a finger on the other hand, and tells him where they need to go.
“Hey,” she says in a loud whisper when they’re some distance from the party and the corridor around them is quiet. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Din can’t shrug while he’s carrying his sleepy son in one arm and supporting his drunk friend with the other, so he answers, “if you want to.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” she says very seriously. It sounds ridiculous in her slurred stage whisper and he can’t hold back a chuckle.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Ok,” Vari says, and tries to lean her head closer to his but ends up resting her cheek on his cuirass instead. “She’s pregnant!”
“Who, the bride?” Well that would explain why she seemed so sober when he thanked her earlier - and perhaps why the groom got so drunk.
“Yes! I’m so happy for her,” Vari says, but her voice catches at the end of the sentence and he looks down to see her tearing up.
Uh oh.
Luckily the tears don’t last too long. Din knows how hard it can be to get a teary drunk to stop once they get going, so he’s very grateful. The room, when they finally reach it, is similar to the rest of the hotel. A lot of pale stone, plants, flowers, and sheer curtains drifting in the breeze from a private terrace.
“Put me on the couch,” Vari says, already veering towards it.
No chance.
“Nope. You’re going in the bed.”
She resists, but not very hard, letting him sit her down on the edge of a large, plush bed.
“You need help with your boots and armour?”
“No, I’m not that drunk,” she says, and unclips her helmet from her belt, placing it as carefully as she can on the nightstand before reaching for her left pauldron. She’s a little uncoordinated, but she already seems less drunk than before.
He puts Grogu down next to her. “Say good night to aunt Vari,” he says. “I’ll come get you in a minute.”
He retreats to the ‘fresher to prepare for the night, and when he comes out he sees Grogu and Vari already asleep, bundled up in the blanket. Only the top of the kid’s head and his ears are visible, so Din pulls down the blanket to let some air onto his face. A little clawed hand curls over the edge, but he doesn’t wake up.
Vari’s armour is neatly stacked beside the bed, but her blue flight suit and boots have been abandoned in a messy pile. The lighter fabric of an undershirt is just visible behind Grogu’s head, so Din’s satisfied that she’ll be comfortable. He places a glass of water on the nightstand before retreating to the couch. He’s used to sleeping in the N1’s cockpit, and before that he had a rack on the Razor Crest, so this is plenty comfortable.
He lies awake for a while, listening to the quiet breathing of his friend and his son sharing the bed across the room. It had been a strange day, though he'd found it much more enjoyable than he expected. Vari’s friend had been very generous, and the people here on the whole had been friendly and non-judgemental. He wasn’t used to that. Not a single person had made a snide comment about his armour or asked an inappropriate question.
He remembers the conversation he had with Ovie, the brown-haired pilot, and thinks about the comm chit sitting in his belt. He’s still not completely sure if the job offer was genuine or if the man was just hitting on him, but he hopes the job’s real. Teva’s giving him what he can, but he needs more money. Having a kid is expensive (who knew?) and his contributions to Mandalore aren’t nearly what they used to be.
He’ll ask Teva about it. He’ll know if this Ovie guy is genuine.
That decided, Din’s thoughts start to calm and he finds himself finally drifting into sleep.