Star Wars Oneshots

At least we have cake (BD)

A/N: ok so when i was writing this oneshot i realized i was writing it as if boba and din are married and i was like "ew that's gross they're so different" so i added fennec to make it seem less like a romantic thing
cue me realizing i ship(ped?) bobadin and have written oneshots about them before and just. forgot. so if the dynamic seems weird that's what happened. thank you for listening to my rambling *bows*

Boba's Point of View

The Florida sun was sweltering, and a sheen of sweat covered Boba's bare torso and bald head as he mowed the lawn. Somehow, the grass stubbornly continued to grow, even as the flowers dried up in the heat.

Nearby, Grogu and Din splashed in the pool while Fennec lounged in the shade. It was the hottest day this June, but their freezer was stocked with popsicles, round ice cubes, and ice cream bars.

Boba wiped sweat off his brow before it dripped into his eyes, knowing he was on the home stretch. Most of the lawn was uniformly cropped close to the ground, but the final strip was uneven and spiky. Boba pushed the entirely non-electric mower down to the driveway, turned, and pushed it back along the final strip.

Boba put the mower back in the garage and walked over to where Din and Grogu were lounging on pool floats. "Who wants a popsicle?" Boba grinned, and Grogu fell back in the water in his excitement.

"Me, me! I want orange!" he squealed when he surfaced.

"I'd take a cherry," Fennec said from beneath her wide-brimmed sunhat.

"Din, anything for you?" Boba asked, making his way towards the sliding glass doors.

"Vanilla?" Din asked hopefully, and Boba chuckled. 

"Coming right up!" He marched inside the house, the blast of air-conditioned air hitting him like sinking into a frozen lake.

He pulled three popsicles out of the freezer, hesitated, and pulled one out for himself, too — lime, of course.

Holding two in each hand, Boba marched outside with his arms extended in front of him, singing some fanfare he'd heard on TV.

Grogu, dripping on the patio from his dip in the pool, eagerly accepted his bright orange popsicle from Boba. Din rested his elbows on the side of the pool, still in the water. Boba handed him his creamy white popsicle, and gave Fennec her crimson one.

On the other side of their house, a loud truck pulled up. Boba, sucking on his icy lime treat, pulled a shirt on and wandered around to the front, curious as to what was happening.

As a cop, Boba was trained to always know everything going on in his surroundings. And big trucks in this neighborhood were rare.

A moving truck had pulled into the driveway of the house next door, which had been for sale for a few months. Apparently, it had been sold.

Boba was going through a mental list of the welcome foods he would bake later (which included strawberry muffins, a lemon-blueberry loaf, and a red velvet cake) when a man he wished he would never see again stepped out of the driver's seat. Boba took a step back.

"Howdy," the man said, oblivious to Boba's shock.

What was Han Solo doing here?

The man didn't recognize him, which was good. That was probably because his shirt covered the worst of the scarring. Boba did a jerky little wave and turned tail.

Once back safely in the pool area, he announced, "Han Solo is our new neighbor."

Fennec sat up instantly. "The smuggler?"

Boba nodded, feeling shaky. The acid scarring on his head wasn't something he was ashamed of, but it was a constant reminder of the criminal who had permanently maimed him with some well-aimed acid.

It appeared the man had served his time, though, and was back to civilian life.

Why did his civilian life have to overlap with Boba's, though?

"I'll go talk to him," Fennec said, standing up. Her sunglasses concealed her expression, but Boba was sure she was dead serious.

Boba went back inside the house, filled a glass with ice water, and returned poolside, zoning out as Grogu did cannonballs and examined anoles, energized from all the sugar.

"He has a husband now," Fennec said as she stalked back to her lounge chair barely three minutes after she'd left, putting her sun hat over her face again and making it very clear she didn't want to talk.

Still, Boba had to ask. "Who?"

"Lando Calrissian."

Boba resisted the urge to punch a wall. Alright, so he hated both of them. He could be cautiously polite. Make the muffins only, and leave them on the porch instead of bringing them in.

His therapist would be getting an earful about this later.

• • • • •

Boba spent all night jumping at the slightest creaking in the floorboards, got up early the next morning, and took the bus to the station.

There he filled out all the paperwork he needed for a restraining order. Their house was less than 250 feet away from his -- so they would be forced to move. That ought to do it, Boba thought, bringing it to his boss' desk personally.

His acid burns had been the biggest injury in the force in a while, and everyone knew what happened. While Boba was in the hospital, then rehab, their lawyers were trying to put Solo in jail for a long time.

Apparently, five years wasn't long enough. The most important thing was that his family would be safe, if Solo was removed from the vicinity.

Boba went home to make breakfast, a coffee cake recipe with yogurt in it he'd found online. While it was in the oven, he made Grogu a tomato, mozzarella and basil sandwich on ciabatta. He sliced a few kiwis and put them in a container, cut carrots into shapes with little cookie cutters, and added a few chocolate chips and pretzels for dessert. Finally, he filled a water bottle with some milk, which was Grogu's favorite.

The coffee cake came out of the oven at precisely 7:30, when Boba woke Din, Fennec and Grogu. Din had 20 minutes for a large, fluffy slice before he had to take Grogu to kindergarten and get himself to work, but Fennec had another hour before the dojo opened.

Din, a social worker for foster kids, took a few slices of coffee cake with him for the clients he'd be seeing that day in his messenger bag, along with all his paperwork.

Grogu, in his favorite frog hoodie, gave Boba's leg a hug, picked up his little backpack complete with lunch, and ran after his dad towards the bus stop.

Boba watched them from the kitchen window until they got on the bus, on guard. Luckily, Solo seemed to be a late sleeper.

He sagged back into his chair, flicked on the TV, and ate another slice of cake.