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Owen didn’t like the Mandalorian, Beru knew that.
She could see it in the way her husband skirted around him and avoided looking at him at the breakfast table, in the way he scowled at him as Luke showed the Mandalorian--his husband--how to read the moisture readers correctly and check the tank water levels even with the broken sensor because Owen told his nephew as long as he was staying with them the Mandalorian had to help out. She could see it in the way that Owen had only told Luke that because he hoped to scare the Mandalorian off.
Beru could see it in the way Owen wouldn’t speak to Luke’s husband unless he spoke to him first--always quiet questions and soft spoken observations and gentle words, and yet her husband always responded in harsh tones and short answers. She saw it in the way Owen often pulled Luke to the side and said just because your friends married young doesn’t mean you have to too, just as she saw it in the way he glanced at the Mandalorian as he said it in his unspoken question. This one, Luke? Really?
Beru knew her husband didn’t like the Mandalorian because Luke looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.
Because it was the same way Anakin had looked at Padme.
There had always been a fear in Owen ever since the first day Obi-Wan set the infant in Beru’s arms. A fear that Luke would end up like his father. A fear that he would love too fiercely and greedily. Owen had always held Luke away at an arm's distance because of a hint of a possibility, had Luke chasing after scraps of affection from an uncle who had him working the farm as soon as he could walk. And Beru almost hated Owen for that because Luke had been a child. A child who grew up knowing his father was dead and never knowing his mother’s name and never getting to know that Obi-Wan desperately wanted to learn to love him because Owen had been afraid of nothing.
But Luke was not unloved.
No, Beru loved her nephew so much that she ached with it, and she did everything she could to make sure Luke knew that.
She sang songs to him in the slave language she grew up having to learn, songs that Shmi taught her to remind her that that language born of necessity and grief was still full of love and laughter. She made Luke blue milk custard on his birthdays and gave him a little extra water when she could go without it. She told Luke about his father, about the day she met him, about how brightly he shown with his love for Luke’s mother. She taught her nephew the names of stars and constellations, saved up enough money to buy him a toy ship so he could fly.
But now Luke had found someone new to love him, someone who looked at him like he put the moon and the sun in the skies every night and day, and if Beru didn’t know any better she would almost think that Owen was trying to take that away from him.
Except Beru did know better.
At least, she thought she did.
Until she saw Owen talking to Luke’s husband, telling him to leave, that he had far outstayed his welcome.
--
Din and Luke climbed up on top of the house’s roof nearly every night now.
But something was different about tonight, and even though Luke tried to ignore it he could feel it gnawing away at his gut like poison.
“What about that one?” Luke pointed at the tail end star in the Kumumgah constellation. Din leaned closer to Luke--close enough that for a moment the cool beskar of Din’s helmet was pressed against his temple. Then Din ducked his head down so he could follow the invisible line Luke was drawing in the sky. “Have you ever been there?”
Luke was always amazed at the warmth Din radiated, even with all that armor he wore.
“No, not there,” Din spoke softly. Always so softly. “But I have been there.”
He pointed to a star at the opposite end of the constellation, back near the head. “Gerin IIV. Mostly water. Couple islands scattered here and there.” Din fell silent, but Luke knew him well enough now to know to wait for Din to find the words he wanted to use. I speak almost ten languages, he had told him that on one of the first nights they had climbed up onto the roof. Sometimes it’s--hard to find the words.
And when they had watched the suns set that night Din had turned to Luke and murmured mesh’la.
Luke had not asked what it meant, and Din had not told him.
“Real pretty when the sun sets.” Din finished. His hand fell back down, resting behind Luke.
“I’d like to see it,” Luke murmured. He sighed softly, dropped his head onto Din’s shoulder without really thinking about it. The sharp edges of his pauldron dug into his cheek, but Luke didn’t mind. Didn’t think that he could ever really mind. “A whole planet covered in water.”
Din stiffened for a moment, but then he slowly wrapped his arm around Luke’s waist and pulled him a little closer. Luke’s chest filled with a pleasant heat. “It’s all saltwater. It’s about as barren as Tatooine.” he fell silent again, thumb tapping once against Luke’s hip before he started rubbing slow circles into the bone. Like he didn't realize he was doing it. “I...I have to leave.”
Luke did not miss the way Din’s voice hitched, even with the modulator.
“Yeah,” Luke swallowed and wondered why it tasted bitter. “Your covert is probably worried about you.”
Din’s head wound had healed weeks ago. There was no reason for him to stay. There had never been a reason for him to stay.
But he had.
“Come with me.” Din said suddenly. He turned to look at Luke, lifting one hand to gently cup his cheek and urge him to look up at Din. The leather of his glove was warm and soft again Luke’s bare skin, and he couldn’t quite help but lean into it, nuzzle against it and ache for something more. Then Din leaned forward, pressed his helmet against Luke’s forehead and Luke--Luke felt his breath steal away. “Please--come home with me.”
Luke did not hesitate in his answer.
“Okay.”
--
“I’m going to Navarro with Din.”
Beru finished her sip of tea, holding the cup to her lips for a moment longer.
She wasn’t surprised by Luke’s words, not at all. She had always known from that first moment she held her baby, from the first moment Luke looked up into the sky with childish wonder and delight she wouldn’t ever be able to keep him here. Luke was always destined for more, because Beru knew that wanderlust and pilgrimage ran deep in bloodlines. And then he dragged a Mandalorian back home, a man who danced across the stars like he would die if he stayed still, and Beru had felt deep in her bones that it was only a matter of time before Luke left Tatooine for good.
Because Luke was a Skywalker.
He was always meant to walk across the skies.
And Beru knew that as much as Owen tried to ignore it.
“Yes,” but just because she knew that, didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear those words. She closed her eyes for a moment, steeled herself with a heavy breath. “I figured that you would.”
Luke made an odd sound.
He surged forward and knelt in front of Beru, gently took her cup of tea and set it on the side table next to the rocking chair she sat in before taking his hands in hers and squeezing. “Aunt Beru, please don’t think--don’t think that I don’t love you--”
“No, Lukas, I would never think that,” the name slipped from Beru’s tongue without her permission. “But you’re allowed to love others, you know that, right?”
It was a name she rarely used, because slave names were dangerous things when put between the lips of dangerous people. But they were also things full of love when spoken by those who understood. Shmi had taught her that. That was why Anakin had given Luke that name. That was why Beru spoke that name even when Owen did not.
Luke’s eyes were wet. “I’ve only known him for a few weeks--”
“And your father only knew your mother for a day.” Beru easily answered. “Time is nothing compared to love. It means nothing to us.” then she smiled, leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Luke’s temple. “Go on, my little star hopper. There’s a whole galaxy waiting for you.”
--
“Did you hear? Skywalker ran off with that Mandalorian.”
“What? No way.”
“I swear! Up and disappeared in the middle of the night. Didn’t even tell Owen.”
“Shut up.”
“It’s the truth!”
“Damn. Well, if Wormie turns up dead, at least we know why.”