Inspired by a conversation about Din and his dad.
It's not often Din looks in the mirror for this long. The reflection holds little value to him. He mainly uses it to check on the healing of cuts and bruises. Even then it's more of a functional evaluation than him caring to see the marks on his face fade.
Then there are the days when he needs to see where to trim the hair on his face and his head. Not that he's overly careful to look closely when cutting his hair. The routine of it is so committed to memory at this point. He gets his hair, slides his fingers through sections of it to use as guides as he snips off the curls which threaten to become unruly and uncomfortable under his helmet. When he trims his facial hair, that's a different story. That's when he takes the time to concentrate.
“Din Djarin!” Father's voice comes from down the hall.
Din schools his face carefully, his mother always says his face is too honest and gives him away every time. The young man tries his best to keep his composure, but when faced with his father standing with a stern look on his face betrayed by the paper glider caught it his the beard that now skims his chest, Din loses all composure.
“You find this humorous?” Father keeps the withering look on his face for a moment longer before joining his son in laughter. “Your mother has been dropping hints about shaving. Come on.”Din is puzzled when his father beckons him. “You're what? 15 now? It's time you learned to shave.”
“I'm 7.” Din corrects his father. “7 and a half.”
“Alway so precise, Din.” Father ruffles his hair before turning back towards the bathroom and retrieving his shaving kit. “Come on.” Father pulls up the stool Din uses to see into the mirror.
With Din at the height of his face, his father hands him a small pair of scissors and a comb. “Pull the comb through my beard and then cut off the ends.”
“But, I…” Din feels this is too great a responsibility for him and looks at the objects in his hand as if they have offended him.
“When we fall asleep, first we need to pretend to sleep. Head up, shoulders back, carry yourself as if you have done this a thousand times. Now comb through and trim.”
Din takes a moment to follow his father's words before taking a deep breath and cutting a small amount of hair from the tips of his father's beard.
“Good, son. Now be a bit bolder.” With that reassurance, Din takes more and more off until the hair is fairly close to his father's face.
“That's it for the scissors. You've done a marvellous job. Maybe there's a future career that will keep you on the ground.” Father takes the scissors and comb and stows them away.
“No way. I will be a pilot travelling the stars.” Din's voice carries all the petulance and enthusiasm of youth.
“Din, what about your mother and I? We'll miss you terribly.” Father tries to keep his tone jovial, despite knowing there is truth heavy in his words.
“You will have each other.” Din assures him before thinking how he will feel to be so far away from them. “And I will visit.”
“Promise?” Father asks, holding out his hand.
“Promise!” Din shakes it in agreement.
“Well, I better teach you how to shave so you can come home looking presentable.” Din gives his father his full attention, watching as he neatly trims his moustache then takes the hair on his cheeks and chin down to stubble.
“Why don't you shave it all off? Seems easier.” Din asks as his father packs his tools away.
“It is. This…” his splashes water on his face to clean any loose hair as he speaks. “...this..is how your mother likes…it. It's a simple way for her to see…how I adore her each day.”
“And it is appreciated.” Mother's voice is filled with warmth as she smiles at the two of them.
Father bends and lays his hands on Din's shoulders. He takes a moment to look at the boy who he knows will grow in the blink of an eye. Who will carry his mother's patience and eye for detail and his father's directness and somewhat short temper out to the stars. He releases Din who runs to his mother to greet her. Once Din has his hug, he holds his wife close in silent thanks for their wonderful boy.
Din tries not to dwell on the past. He tries not to think about how he is at an age beyond what his parents made it to. When he does think of them he tries to hold onto the good. The skills they passed and taught to him which made his training easier. Their love which he kept hidden in a part of his heart, unhardened by his work, until he met Grogu and began to truly understand a parent's love. The morning his father taught him to shave and his mother explained how she had pushed for changes in their township to benefit everyone over a meal they made together.
In the mirror, for that moment, Din doesn't see a Mandalorian or the years that have passed, he sees a son eternally loved by his parents.
