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Din was 21 the first time he went on a bounty by himself.
In his covert, 13 was considered the age of adulthood. It was the age that a child graduated from basic schooling and the creche. At thirteen, the new adult began their advanced schooling in preparation for their apprenticeship. The new adults were required to do only one more year of advanced schooling before their apprenticeships. All except those going into bounty hunting. Those meant to be bounty hunters were required to continue their schooling until they turned sixteen and were granted more freedoms, including the right to leave the covert unattended. As a child who had been tracked towards a career in bounty hunting, Din didn't start his formal apprenticeship until he was sixteen and able to work at the side of one of the covert bounty hunters.
Most bounty hunters in the covert were then expected to begin working independently by the time they were nineteen. At this time they were expected to begin bringing in money for the covert, on their own.
By the time Din was ready to start out on his own at nineteen, the covert had become more and more isolated and more and more fearful. So with the Empire expanding further and further each year, and bounties getting tougher and tougher, the covert asked his bounty hunting journeyman, Sol'loni, to keep him on for a couple more years. By that point, Din and Sol'loni had established a very close-knit working relationship and the two of them were more than happy to continue working together.
They were so close, in fact, that Din thought the two of them would continue working together for many, many years. Unfortunately, during a bounty not long after Din's twenty-first birthday, the worst happened. Din had been holding down a criminal they'd been chasing, while Sol'loni bound them. In a sudden violent struggle, the criminal escaped Din's hold and stabbed Sol'loni in the thigh with a crudely made stone shiv they'd had up their sleeve. The unlucky hit had punctured Sol'loni's femoral artery. By the time Din was able to get a tourniquet tightened on their thigh, they had lost far too much blood to survive without immediate help.
Sol'loni reached up and gripped Din's collar. “I'm alright. Go get that bastard!” They panted and laid back down on the ground.
For a moment, Din was torn.
Sol'loni was his closest friend in the Galaxy and they were hurt. But the two of them had been working together for five years now, and Din trusted Sol'loni to know themself and their limits.
With one last look, he turned and ran after the escaping criminal.
By the time Din returned, criminal in hand, Sol'loni was gone. The only thing that remained was a patch of blood-soaked ground and drag marks that were slowly being covered by windblown sand. As Din moved in the direction of the drag marks, something shone from beneath the shifting sand. It was the small Beskar emblem that Sol'loni always wore around their neck. It was the last thing Sol'loni had left of their cyare, and they wouldn't have left it behind for any reason.
In these dunes there were dangerous animals who would have leapt at such a fine meal and criminals who would kill a Mandalorian for their valuable armour. Din wouldn't be surprised if one of them had gotten to Sol'loni.
So Din had taken the newly captured bounty back to their shared ship, stored them in carbonite, and began to search the dunes.
For almost a week he looked, searching desperately for any sign of Sol'loni's body.
Sol'loni had been the closest thing Din had had to a parent since his own parents had been murdered during the wars. He wasn't about to just leave the middle-aged Togruta to whatever awful thing had taken them.
Despite his determination, he found no trace of Sol'loni. And by the end of the next Zhellday, Din felt hopeless.
As the suns set over the dunes of Tatooine that night, Din dropped down into the sand. His heart ached. He felt as empty as he had when he'd first lost his parents. The stars were beginning to come out, one-by-one and Din let his head fall back. He stared up at the star-filled sky.
Sol'loni had often talked about how much they loved the night skies of Tatooine.
“Look up, little hunter,” they'd remarked one night during their first year together. The two of them had been on the polluted planet of Anoat, and nothing had been visible through the smog-filled canopy.
“What am I looking for?” Din had asked at the time, confused.
“The stars,” They had answered with breathless wonder.
“But I can't see any here.” Din had said, bemused.
“But you can hear them, can't you? Singing so softly.” They'd said and Din could almost hear the sweet smile in their voice.
It was there, that night, that Din had found out that Sol'loni had the gift of the Ka'ra.
“The power of the Ka'ra is not strong with me,” They had confided to him later, after the two of them had captured their prey. “But I've always been able to hear the song of the stars,” they'd said dreamily.
Sol'loni's gift had saved their shebs more than a few times over their years together. The small things Sol'loni did would make a huge difference in their hunts. Sometimes Sol'loni would turn them in a different direction, or know exactly who to ask about their next bounty, or know when dangerous animals were nearby.
And although Din did not think he was blessed with the gift, there was something comforting, soothing about Sol'loni's presence.
Din had to admit that hunting at their side had been the most enjoyable time of his life.
After that Zhellday night, Din knew he couldn't wait to turn in his bounty any longer.
He flew his ship to Mos Eisley and went in search of local authorities.
It wasn’t long after Din turned in his capture that he picked up another small bounty. The new bounty was just some debt ower to a local thug, based on Tatooine. He figured it couldn't hurt to stick around and see if he could hear anything about an injured Mandalorian or any Beskar armour that was up for sale.
And although he hoped to find his hunting partner alive, as each day passed, his hopes grew dimmer. By the end of the second week after their disappearance, he knew they were beyond his reach.
Sol'loni was simply gone.
Din took the realization hard. He ended up spending almost three days pacing around their ship, The Razor Crest, trying to figure out what to do. He had no armour to return to the covert, no body to give a proper burial.
All he had was the small pendant, which he carefully hid away. It felt too sacred to Sol'loni to do anything else. He didn't feel like he had the right to wear it, even if Sol'loni was marching away.
Regardless, he had no idea what to do. Did he stay and continue searching for Sol'loni or their armour? Or did he finish up his new bounty as quickly as possible and return to the covert to tell them what had happened?
Neither option felt right to Din. He wanted to do something, but neither felt like the correct choice. And even if he did find their armour, it wouldn't bring his friend back.
By the third night, he realized he needed to shake himself out of his grief. He had been stewing in it for far too long.
Yes, Sol'loni was gone, but he wasn't. Sol'loni would want him to move on, they would want him to keep living.
In an effort to give himself some closure, Din locked up his ship and headed out of the docks and into the heart of Mos Eisley.
He let his feet carry him through the city until he found himself in front of a dirty little cantina. A low murmur of voices and scratchy, prerecorded music spilled out of the door.
He stepped down and into the smoky building. He carefully evaluated all of the patrons just how Sol'loni had taught him before he took a stool at the bar.
“Corellian whiskey, neat,” Din fished out some credits and set them on top of the counter for the barkeep.
“Isn't Corellian whiskey kind of overrated?” Din had asked the first time they'd had a drink together. They'd found a tiny, out of the way cantina after the success of their first bounty. Din had been flushed with the pride of a job well done.
“Never dismiss the classics Little Hunter,” Sol'loni had replied ruefully and handed him a glass of the amber liquid. They'd had the gall to laugh when Din had taken his first gulp of Corellian whiskey and coughed for five minutes straight. “You have to sip it, Little Hunter! Sip it!” They'd trilled, voice full of amusement.
“Here's to you, Sol'loni,” Din whispered to the air, and then took a small sip of the whiskey through a straw.
The burn of the liquor down his throat was satisfying in a way nothing had been in weeks.
“You know, I was here to meet a Mandalorian tonight,” A dainty, core-bred voice spoke on his left. The voice was followed by a man in a dirty cloak taking the stool beside him. “You might not be the Mandalorian I was looking for,” the man continued, filling the silence between them, “but you looked like you needed someone to talk to.”
The man was beautiful, in a refined, graceful way that some hume's seemed to get as they passed into their middle age. His hair was a little over half grey, the colour spilling throughout his hair, starting at his temples. What wasn't grey was a sun-bleached strawberry blonde, that looked almost gold in the dim light. Interestingly, his beard was more red than his hair. It was neatly trimmed down, but full enough that it half-hid the soft frown lines around the man's mouth. There was something elegant and stately about his posture and demeanour, even if his clothes were dirty and well tread by the sand and suns and winds of Tatooine.
And there was something about his companionship that reminded Din of Sol'loni.
Not in a physical sense. This man was definitely physically attractive and Din had never felt any physical attraction for Sol'loni. It was more of the man's soothing presence. And after three weeks without them, he was missing Sol'loni's comforting companionship so much his heart ached.
He missed how he'd felt at their side, he missed that assurance that the two of them would take care of each other. He'd felt more at home with them, than he had since he'd lost his parents. It was hard to have them disappear so suddenly. It was like loosing his parents all over again.
And with this man he got that same feeling of home. So could Din use this man just to feel that comfort once more? And with the way the older man was undressing him with his eyes, Din knew he could take this man to bed. It might be nice to have a night with that warm presence next to him, to have that comfort wrapped around his heart.
He knew he could do this if he wanted. But should he?
He was hurt, he was mourning. And any tumble in the hay with this man was just a stop gap.
“Listen,” the man said, laying a cautious hand on Din's vambrace. The man's thumb stroked up and down the edge like he was familiar with this kind of armor, it made the back of Din's skull tingle with anticipation.
Oh, Din was definitely going to do this. He wanted whatever this man could give him.
“We don't have to do anything,” the man continued, kindly. “I don't mind just sitting here and talking. I don't get much good conversation, these days anyways.”
“What makes you think I could say anything you'd find interesting?” Din asked rustily. Other than ordering his drink, he hadn't spoken much in the past few days. He was used to having someone to talk to, or someone to enjoy the silences with. That was gone now.
“I just have a feeling,” The man smiled, the sad lines around his eyes loosening and folding up as he beamed. It was amazing how much the smile changed his face, made him even more breathtaking. The man's eyes had been so heavy and sad before, like his soul was crying out silently. “And I trust my feelings.”
“I would like to take you to bed, if you don't mind skipping the talk.” Din didn't want there to be any confusion between them. His heart felt easier in this man's presence and he wanted more of that. And considering how the man looked, taking him to bed wouldn't be a hardship, either.
“I don't mind at all,” the man grinned rakishly and led him out of the cantina.
The anticipation thrummed through Din's body as they wandered the streets looking for a suitable room to use. Eventually they found a place and Ben paid for the tiny room. When the door closed behind them, Din felt like they were shutting out the whole world. The intimacy of the tight quarters seemed to intensify whatever it was between them.
Din had thought the sex between them was going to be wild. The air betwixt them had been thick with tension and his heart had been yammering heavily in his chest. But instead the man was slow and tender.
Ben, the man called himself, helped Din slowly out of his armour, one piece at a time. When he reached for Din's helmet, Din grasped his wrists hard, and Ben had left the helmet alone after that.
Din had his own turn to undress Ben. The man was well-built. He had the body of a dancer or a gymnast, but he was covered in scars of all shapes and sizes. Din had been fascinated by them. For a few minutes, he'd gotten lost in stroking his fingers over a thick, perfectly round scar on Ben's bicep, and a long thin scar along his ribs.
Ben kissed the parts of Din's body he could reach, whispering whiskers and lips moved gently across smoother, younger skin, like he was worshiping Din. Din hadn't ever been with someone quite so much older than him, and he found he was rather enjoying the experience of Ben's touch.
After some very sensuous, drawn-out foreplay, Ben had pushed Din onto the bed and sucked him off. Din had never been sucked off quite so gracefully before. The merciful, purposeful bobbings of Ben's head, the never-slowing suction of his mouth and the firm grasp of an unexpectedly rough fist had pushed Din over the edge embarrassingly quick.
After, Ben had rolled Din over and pushed his cock between Din's thighs, using the tight friction between them to thrust and get himself off.
When they'd finished, Ben had held Din. They'd lied on their sides, Ben's arms wrapped around Din and he'd felt... protected. Cared for like he hadn't since the beginning of his own apprenticeship with Sol'loni.
And to his own embarrassment, Din began to weep.
But all through those long moments of Din's jagged crying, Ben hadn't said a word. He'd only held him tighter and hummed a Tatooine folk song soothingly against his shoulder.
It wasn't until after Din had finished crying, that he realized Ben had been silently crying too. Din considered asking Ben who he'd lost, he considered asking why Ben felt like such a kindred soul. But in the end, he decided not to ruin the calm, comforting stillness of the moment. Instead he let himself curl back into Ben's embrace and doze off to the sound of Ben's melodic hum.
Later, when the darkest part of the night made the moons shine through the ratty curtains of the tiny window in the room, Din drifted back awake. From where he was lying, he could see the stars through the gaps in the fabric.
“Can you hear them?” Din whispered into the quiet of the night. He hadn't expect an answer, not with Ben so still behind him.
“Hear what?” Ben tenderly asked, his voice husky with sleep.
“The stars.”
“Yes,” answered Ben. “They are singing in the sky.”
Din closed his eyes and smiled, warmth filling his chest.