Kim

The students were sitting close, the history class next door piled in for the period. The bell rang and Ryland clapped his hands, lifting one in the air. All eyes went straight to him, chatter dying down quickly. He perched on the corner of his desk, smile wide as he introduced each speaker. “They’ve graciously agreed to share their time and work with all of us this morning, which means we’re going to be what?”

A chorus of “respectful!” rings through the room. It was impressive, how in control he seemed to be of so many middle schoolers. The photographer went first, showing the kids their best, and silliest, animal photos. They ate it up, laughing at a photo of a bird pooping in midair. Ryland stood next to you off to the side, hiding his grin behind his hand. The presentation ended up being a great refresher on animal sciences, which the kids didn’t expect from the artist of the group. 

The nurse was next, she gave a beautiful speech about getting to help people every day, how she loved supporting moms through the scary moments and the joyful ones. It brought tears to your eyes hearing how passionate she was about her patients. You caught the history teacher wiping her cheek, a small smile shared between you two. You figured she must have kids, you didn’t have that excuse though. 

The firefighter decided to go the comedy route, laughing his way through a story about having to save someone who climbed a tree to save a cat. He got them both down safely, using it as a stepping stone to talk about how firefighters have to be brave for everyone around them. He let the kids pass around his helmet and showed them how quickly he has to be able to suit up. The helmet eventually landed on Ryland’s head, making the students giggle as he puffs out his chest and says, “you know what, I do feel brave in this!”

Then it was your turn. As an architectural engineer, you knew you wanted to get the kids excited about design, so you brought in a model of a new lab your team was working on. You talked about the importance of being able to blend beautiful structure with sound math and things like ventilation, because a pretty building is nothing if it’s not safe. The kids had really thoughtful questions about accessibility and standards of design. It surprised you, how attentive they were.

You expected some teasing from them considering that they knew you were dating their teacher, but they were nothing but respectful the whole period. When you finished, Ryland jumped in and raised his hand again, “what do we say to our guests?” A rousing “thank you!” followed, making you laugh. The bell rang and that was it.

 A few students stayed after class to talk to you all individually, asking more in-depth questions that made you excited for their future prospects. These kids were smart, now you understand why Ryland loved science fair season at the school.

When the last student finally ran off, the firefighter approached you. He was flirting, you could tell immediately, but you didn’t want to be rude, so you smiled along until you could find an out. He told you about his son Mason, briefly mentioned being divorced, and finally asked about your life. You could feel eyes on you from across the room, you knew Ryland was watching. He wouldn’t intervene unless you asked for help, but that doesn’t mean he’s not acutely aware of the unwanted advances you’re currently facing. 

The man asked for your number, a charming smile on his face. You held in a sigh and kept your face neutral, “oh, I actually have a boyfriend.” You kept it simple, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “You do?” He asks, brows raising. Before you have a chance to say anything, though, you feel an arm slide around your shoulder. You turn your head and see Ryland, other hand on his hip and a big smile on his face. 

“Thank you for coming today, the kids were so engaged,” he says it to you, then turns to the firefighter. “Seriously, they loved getting to meet you.” 

The man covers his surprise quickly, reaching out to shake his hand. “It was my pleasure, Mr. Grace,” and he exchanges a few pleasantries before excusing himself. 

You turn to Ryland with your brows raised, a smirk playing on your lips. “Ryland,” you start, “was that a little jealousy I heard?” He meets your eye and shrugs, “Mason’s dad is freshly divorced and maybe too eager to find a new wife.” You laugh softly, shaking your head and stepping away. “I was in the middle of turning him down, but thank you for saving me the trouble,” and you kiss his cheek. 

~

It’s not until the next evening that Ryland has stories for you. He comes home with a huge grin plastered on his face, barely even getting his coat off before he’s calling for you. “You’ll never guess what Mason told me this morning,” he corners you on the couch. “Apparently, his dad asked him about you yesterday.” Your eyes go wide, not knowing what to expect when the story was coming from a 13 year old. 

“Mason said, and I quote, ‘don’t worry, Mr. Grace, I shut that shit down so fast. My dad isn’t going anywhere near Mrs. Grace.’” A laugh rumbles out of him, shaking the couch cushion. You gasp, “he said that?!” 

“Yeah! And then he had to put his name in the swear jar because what the fuck, Mason!” It always makes you laugh when Ryland swears, it sounds so unnatural coming from his mouth. You had rubbed off on him a little, but he really tries to keep it to the confines of the apartment. 

“He’s a good kid,” you throw your legs over his, “he had great questions yesterday.”

He nods, “oh! One of the girls sent me an email with questions for you, said she was interested in how what she’s learning in her electronics class might roll over into what you do.” He pulls out his phone, forwarding you the email.

“Aw, a little engineer in the making,” you smile. “She’s like, insanely smart. Her last paper was on hydroponics, she brought a basil plant in for the window, it’s growing like crazy! No soil!” He gestures wildly, like he can’t believe she’s keeping it alive in his classroom. 

You can’t help the soft look on your face, eyes shining as he brags about his students. When he finally looks at you he freezes, “what?” It’s a gentle question, timid, even. “Nothing, just - thank you for including me yesterday, it was nice seeing you in your element,” you smile, reaching for his hand. 

He plants a kiss to the back of your hand and you feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. “A couple of the girls cornered me this morning,” he looks away bashfully, “they said I needed to buy you a ring today because I’d be crazy to let you go.” 

“Yeah?” Your voice is quiet, “I’m not going anywhere, Ry.”

He finally turns to look at you, “Would you… would you want to get married?” He’s nervous, it’s sweet, you think. 

You can’t help the wide smile that breaks across your face, it eases his nerves instantly. “Mm, I think I would.”

He nods, lips stretching into the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen on him. “I’ll do it properly, the ring, one knee, nice dinner somewhere pretty.”

“I don’t need anything grand, you know. Just you, whatever feels right to you.” 

He shifts to pull you in by the back of your neck, lips landing on yours in a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you,” he says your name like a prayer, holding eye contact like it’ll express everything he feels. “I love you too, Ryland,” you whisper against his lips, feeling his smile against your skin.  

He’s quiet for a moment, just enjoying the closeness. Then he shifts again, “okay, so the girls were showing me different rings, they made it sound so complicated.” You laugh, nodding, “I’ll show you what I like, but I want you to pick it out.” 

And you know that he will absolutely be showing those middle school girls the rings he’s considering for their opinions. You trust their judgement, it’s gotten you two this far, anyway.

--------------------------

“Thank you so much,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a chaste peck to your cheek. 

A chorus of “ew,” “aw,” and gasps rumble through the class. Ryland closes his eyes for a moment before turning around to face the excited middle schoolers. Before he could say anything, though, one of the girls points forcefully in your direction, “that’s your girlfriend?!” 

“No way Mr. Grace pulled her,” another joined in.

“There’s a Mrs. Grace?!”

“There really is hope for all of us,” a boy laughs. 

“Wait, she’s hot!” They were all talking over each other, a mix of compliments to you and barely concealed insults toward their teacher. 

“Hey!” Ryland starts, clinging to what was left of his dignity. You wave to the room, introducing yourself with a grin. You were absolutely going to make fun of him tonight, and he knew it too. He was bright red but he fixed the students with a serious look, “back to your work, everyone.”

They didn’t even pretend to look at their papers, too interested in this new side of their silly science teacher that they never got to see. Ryland turns back to you, stepping through the doorway and leading you away from the windows with a hand on your lower back. “This is all they’re going to talk about today,” he sighs. You stifle a laugh and point behind him.

The kids were lined up against the window, pressing their faces close to the glass to try to get a glimpse of you two. He doesn’t even turn around, “I owe you dinner for these,” he shakes the papers still in his hand. “You’re not cooking in my kitchen,” you giggle.

“Takeout it is,” he smiles, landing one more quick kiss to your lips before he steps backwards, steeling himself for the torment he was about to walk back into. You whisper your goodbyes and laugh to yourself when you hear his voice carry through the hallway, “don’t think I won’t lower your grades on these papers!” 

~

He beats you home that evening, an array of Chinese food already set up on the table when you slink through the door. Ryland is in the kitchen fighting with that one drawer that just doesn’t open right. Loose sweatpants sit low on his hips, a big difference from his work clothes you last saw him in. “Hey! How was your day?” He’s chipper, the day must not have been so bad. 

“Same old, I’m more interested in your day, Mr. Grace.” You step beside him, opening the drawer and kissing his cheek. He fishes out the chopsticks you always use and ushers you to the table, he pulls out your chair and can’t help but drop a kiss to the top of your head. “My day,” he starts with a sigh, “was exactly what you expect with a bunch of middle schoolers who just found out that I have a beautiful girlfriend.” 

You giggle softly, opening the boxes in front of you and assessing just how much food he ordered. “Come on, I want details! If anyone is going to have good jokes it’s your students.”

“First it was the lingo, they called me unc and said something about pulling a baddie,” he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Then they said you were way out of my league, asked how I convinced you to give a nerd like me a chance.” You let out a belly laugh at that, knowing full well you were head over heels for him the first time you met. “Did you tell them that I’m a nerd too?”

“In so many words, but they wouldn’t have it. They decided that you’re the breadwinner of the relationship, something about being a CEO or owning a business,” he’s giggling now, too. “I told them you’re an engineer and Abby asked if you work for Lockheed Martin.” You gasped, choking out a laugh. “How does she know about them?”

“Her parents talk about a lot in front of her,” it’s said wistfully, like he wishes they would stop. “Then, they started using words I didn’t know. I wrote them down, hold on.” He grabs his phone, opening his notes app. “They said I’m ‘high-key a simp,’” a snort from you, “Tyler said, ‘Mr. Grace been hiding his rizz,’ which felt inappropiate coming out of a child’s mouth.” His turn to snort. 

“Oh! Jenny called me the Beaker to your Dr. Bunsen, that’s a crazy reference for a 13 year old!” That one bowled you over, you threw your head back with a loud laugh. “I still don’t know what this one means,” he holds his phone far from his face, pretending to struggle to read, “‘Mr. Grace lowkey ohio, but his girlfriend has goddess energy.’” He looks at you exasperatedly, “I’ve gotta ask their English teacher to translate all of this.” 

“I don’t mind ‘goddess energy,’” you wink at him. “The girls all agreed on that one, so I think it’s universally accepted,” he smiled softly at you, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “My favorite one, though, was someone said we’re like fix-it Felix and that soldier lady Jane Lynch voiced in Wreck It Ralph.” 

“Stop! They did not say that!” Your cheeks hurt from laughing so much at this point. “They did! I think it was a disguised way to say that you’re out of my league again,” he’s so enamored with the way you’re laughing, he almost wishes he had more quips to read out. “I told them that one doesn’t work because Felix is shorter than the soldier, then they said I give short aura and that insecurity about being a ‘short king’ is a bad look. I’m six feet tall!” You’re struggling to catch your breath, you loved these kids so much and you’d only just met them. 

“That was a lot for one class period,” you wipe your eyes, food totally forgotten on the table. “Yeah, we didn’t get much work done,” he sighs dramatically. 

He hesitates a little to tell you the next part, his ears burning when you notice the look on his face. “They- uh, they exclusively referred to you as Mrs. Grace, despite how many times I told them that we’re not married.” Your cheeks heat up at that, “that’s sweet of them.” The moment stretches, longing in his eyes that you recognize. He’s never brought marriage up before, but he often talks about spending the rest of your lives together. One thing about Ryland is that he’s a loverboy, it’s one of your favorite parts of him. You lay your hand on top of his, a gentle comfort after a long day of torment.

“Anyways, now that they know you exist, they’re going to ask to see you again. Maybe you could come in for career day? Tell them about the importance of paying attention when their teacher is talking,” he looks a little shy, it reminds you of how he looked when he first asked you out. 

“I’d love to do that, Ry, you just let me know when it is and I’ll make sure my schedule is clear.” Your smile is bright, excitement shining through at being included. “Yeah?” His expression is hopeful. “Yeah, I’ve gotta prove that they’re right, I am the breadwinner in this relationship,” you don’t even have time to laugh before he’s pulling you out of your chair and over his shoulder. He lands a hand against your thighs, ignoring your squeals. 

“You’re right, I’ve gotta earn my keep,” and he carries you all the way to the bedroom, “happy wife, happy life and all that.”

------------

-

Sharing a spaceship with not only a husband who you barely remember, but also an alien, is not for the weak.

To be fair, the plan has gone way better than you and Ryland could’ve hoped. Not only did you save Rocky, but he came up with the genius idea to use Taumoeba as food so you don’t die. At the very least, you won’t die nearly as quickly as originally thought. You can supposedly live on Erid as long as the Taumoeba farms are going, or until something else kills you.

But let’s not think about that right now, you say to yourself.

Your memory is getting better everyday, and you can confidently say you remember most of your life up to meeting Ryland. You’re still grasping for bits and pieces of your relationship beyond that, and the memories leading up to the launch of the Hail Mary, but it’s a head start.

The journey to Erid has been quite entertaining, to say the least. You’ve been getting to know Rocky, and Ryland jokes he likes you more than him. Ryland has started being able to understand him without the translator, which has you in awe due to the drastic language differences. You suppose they did spend a lot of time together saving the stars, though. It makes sense Ryland would pick up on the chords and sounds after a while. But when you have conversations with Rocky, you still use the translator software, and Rocky tries to speak more simply around you so you understand. You hope to be fluent in Eridian someday, especially if you end up living there the rest of your days.

“Hey Rocky,” you say, and he perks up. “Do Eridians do double dates?”

“Explain new term, question?”

“It’s when two couples, or mates, go out and do something fun together. Maybe you and Adrian can do something fun with Ryland and I when we get to Erid.”

“Yes. We have fun with other sets of mates on Erid. We call ♩♪♫♬.”

You put the new word into the computer like Ryland showed you. You’re far from the computer smart scientist he is, but you’re learning how to use most things in the ship. Well, aside from the important things. You know better than to try messing with the fuel or the pilot’s seat.

“Rocky glad Grace mate Y/N alive.”

You look up from the computer and smile.

“Me too. And I’m glad you’re alive with us.”

“Amaze. Amaze. Amaze. Rocky Grace Y/N live happy together on Erid!”

You’ve had to get accustomed to one of Rocky’s strange behaviors: his insistence on watching you and Ryland sleep.

You don’t really mind someone watching you two in bed, it’s not like you’re really doing anything besides sleeping. Truthfully, your attraction to Ryland was one of the first things to come back to memory, but you feel hesitant to pursue physical intimacy until you’re fully yourself. You haven’t even kissed him yet, and your bunks are separated in the dormitory.

Still, it takes a few nights to get used to Rocky being in the room when you sleep. He’s so still and quiet, you worry something will happen to him. But Ryland assures you that’s how Eridians are, and he will wake up and move eventually.

It’s not really Rocky you should’ve been worrying about, though.

The last of your memories come to you in nightmares. You remember finding out your husband was being sent off to die, begging to die with him, and seeing him unconscious. You remember the scientists poking and prodding at you. You remember them confirming you also have the coma-survival gene, but they still can’t guarantee you’ll actually wake up. You remember rushing to pack a few things, just some pictures to help you remember your life.

You remember tears rolling down your face as you’re induced into the deepest of slumber.

Ryland must’ve heard you wake up, coming to your side as you startle. Your face falls to your hands. You can’t even look at him.

You know he’ll be upset. He’ll be devastated that you volunteered of your own free will to die out here with him. The Ryland you’ve known and loved never would’ve wanted you to do that. He would’ve told you to stay and be happy without him. He would’ve told you to move on. To make sure his kids are okay. To check on his twin brother. To spread kindness to a world that’s dying. To treasure his memory but not throw away your life for him.

All you can do is cry, the hardest you’ve cried since waking up, maybe ever. You’re shaking, truly coming to terms with your decision to abandon Earth. The emotions that were filling you when you found out Ryland was being sent away. The full weight of the situation is known to you now. You’re angry, you’re sad, you’re everything.

“Can I…can I touch you?” Rylands voice is soft and hesitant, not sure if you’re ready to continue the closeness you once had.

His answer comes in the form of you practically flinging yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and slithering your fingers into his hair. The texture is soothing to you, and the warmth of his skin is familiar. He responds quickly by holding you tight, guiding you to his own bunk as he rubs your back and kisses your head. The bunks are no where near designed for two people, but he slowly lowers you down with him so he can cuddle you properly. He covers your bodies with the blankets and continues calming you down, his heartbeat and breaths bringing you back to a normal rhythm. You didn’t realize how touch starved you were until this moment.

Ryland seems to be pouring every ounce of love he’s been holding back into his embrace. He gives you the softest of kisses all over your face, and holds you like the most precious being in the universe.

Once you’re no longer shaking, you squeak out the dreadful reason you were woken up in the first place.

“I remember.”

Ryland pauses his kisses to look at the terror in your eyes.

“You remember why you’re here?”

You nod.

“Were you forced as well? Did they hurt you? What did they do to you?”

His concern turns to premature anger, all the worst case scenarios of what they could’ve done running through his mind.

“No. It’s worse,” you say. “I wanted to die out here. With you.”

“What?” His eyes get glassy. “Sweetheart, why would you—“

“They told me you were going to die and I should move on. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t live without you. So I asked to be sent to die with you. I knew it was selfish. I knew I had nothing to contribute to this mission, and I would be a waste of resources. I knew I would’ve made your death more painful. Trust me, Stratt told me. But I just couldn’t move on, Ryland, I just couldn’t.”

Please say something.

Ryland takes a moment to process what you’ve said. His gaze on you is still so gentle.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I understand.” He finally says. “I’m not angry with you. I’m glad you’re here. Please know I’m so glad you’re here.”

This time his kiss captures your lips.

The energy changes between you after that night.

Your mind is fully your own again, for better or for worse. Everything you've ever felt for your husband comes rushing back, and the invisible wall you had between each other is torn down.

You’re having the deep conversations you once did, making each other laugh, confusing Rocky with your constant public displays of affection. You get called “disgust” multiple times a day, to the point you now know the word for it in Eridian. You’re sure you’ll get payback when Rocky reunites with Adrian.

You’ve now put your bunks next to each other for sleeping, it’s not exactly comfortable still, but it at least keeps you closer at night. Space is cold. But it’s a lot harder to be cold when Ryland keeps you practically caged in his arms all night. The muscle stimulators he had during the coma made him a lot stronger, there’s no way you’re getting out of his grip even if you wanted to.

Most of your days are spent chatting with each other and Rocky, and making plans on the most logical ways for you and Ryland to survive as long as possible. You’ve rationed out your food, coma slurry, and Taumoeba for the trip so you can spread out your nutrients. You figured eating all the regular food and then cold turkey switching to Taumoeba wouldn’t be a good idea, so you put everything into a rotation. One meal you eat real food, one meal you choke down the slurry, one meal you snack on Taumoeba. It’s not fun to eat the latter two, but it’s the best you can do with what you have.

Rocky has been brainstorming ideas with Ryland on where you two will live. They’re thinking some sort of xenonite biodome similar to what Rocky uses to survive on the Hail Mary, but this time it would keep oxygen in instead of out. They can use a mix of ship parts and Eridian engineering to make a house.

It sounds like a fine life, all things considered.

During times Rocky’s sleep schedule doesn’t align with yours, you and Ryland have made a habit of watching Rocky sleep while cuddling by the window. You don’t think you’ll ever get over seeing outer space so clearly through the glass. It’s brought you to tears a few times, the beauty of it.

You plan to stay awake as long as you can. You two have talked about going into comas again, but you don’t want to leave Rocky alone, and you don’t want to risk not waking up. Besides, it’s not like you’re getting bored. There’s endless things to do an chat about on the ship, especially with all of Rocky’s questions about humanity and vice versa about Eridians. You’ve taught Rocky some human games, shown him Earth places on the screen, explained Earth customs to his confusion.

Sometimes Rocky gets a little too curious about humans. Ryland told you that before you woke up, Rocky would ask to watch him eat, wash up, excrete, with no shame. For science, of course. And ever since Rocky met you, he’s been asking to watch “human mating activities” for science. He doesn’t seem to understand how private it is for humans, since Eridians just lay their eggs next to each other to reproduce. Most of the time multiple Eridian couples or groups lay their eggs in the same area, so it’s very open and public. Their physical affection isn’t synonymous with their reproduction. Figures why he jokes that your kissing and touching is “disgust,” but he’s very intrigued to learn about human sex.

Despite Rocky’s genuine curiosity, you and Ryland don’t want to risk it yet, even in private. It’s not like the ship was packed with contraception or medical equipment to support a birth and baby. If you got pregnant, there would be far too many things that could go wrong. Ryland couldn’t bear it if you came all this way to be with him, and you died of complications in the middle of space, no doctors to aid you. Maybe when you’re settled on Erid, you could reevaluate. Wouldn’t that be something, the first human born on an alien planet?

Ryland plays with your hair as you relax on his chest, your eyes catching the millions of stars outside. You’re flying at a completely different reference point to Earth, but occasionally Ryland recognizes what you’re seeing and tells you about it. You can tell he misses teaching, so you don’t mind him giving you a science lesson.

You wonder what’s become of all the people you knew. Did Rylands class make it? Are your neighbors at your old apartment still around? Is Stratt still alive?

Despite what she did, you hope she is. She’s the only one who was willing to make the hard decisions for the good of humanity. And hopefully she’ll continue to make hard decisions when the probes reach Earth. You may never know if they do, or if the Sun gets its brightness back.

You can’t think about it too hard.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You nod, “Yeah. Just a lot to think about.”

“I know,” he smiles, kissing your forehead. “Good thing we have a long, long time to think.”

-

-

This one’s not dead.

Ryland exhales in relief. He’s not alone. Finally some hope he’s not alone.

You seem to be sleeping peacefully. Well, as peacefully as someone hooked up to a million different tubes could be. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong. The computer confirms you’re alive.

So what happened to the other two? He doesn’t want to risk the same happening to you. He grumbles to the robot to not wake you up yet. It probably won’t listen, but he’d at least like a chance to figure out how to stop you from the same fate. The robot does in fact back away, so maybe it’s not programmed to wake you up yet.

He doesn’t remember anything about you, but he must’ve known you, right? He shuffles through your things like he did with the others, trying to find some semblance of knowledge, maybe sentimental items or pictures of who you were.

He finds some that look like you with friends, out and about, smiling. There’s a couple more of you looking cozy with a sandy blonde haired man with glasses.

Wait…he looks familiar. What was her name again?

Her capsule reads “GRACE,” just like his. So you’re either his wife or his sister.

Gosh, he hopes you’re not his sister.

He scrambles to find a reflective surface, confirming he’s the guy in your pictures. Well, at least he might be. It’s hard to tell without a haircut.

Great. So he’s who knows where, with a beautiful woman in a coma…who’s supposedly his wife.

“She said I have 3 hours to decide. But I…I can’t do it. I can’t leave you, I can’t leave those kids. I know the sun is dying, but…”

Ryland chokes up on the phone. You desperately wish you were there with him, just to tell him it’s alright when it’s not.

It’s been a whirlwind few years, your husband being recruited to solve the Petrova Problem. Due to the top-secret nature of the mission, you aren’t allowed in the labs or bases, but you’ve been allowed to travel with him to the general areas they’re moving him around to. They wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for Ryland’s ultimatum: that he won’t work for them unless he can bring you along. So here you are, sitting in a hotel room several miles from the launch site.

“They really don’t have anyone else who can do it?” You ask.

“No. Heck, I can’t even do it. But she’s asking me to. She said I have no reason not to, she said you’d forget me and move on and I have no other family. Not even a dog.”

Well that stings a bit.

“I don’t think she’d care if I did anyway.” He continues. “I could tell her you’re pregnant or we’re getting a cat next week, and she’d still tell me to leave it all behind and go.”

“Can you tell her no?”

“I’m going to.”

You hear him take a deep breath.

“I’ll join you at the hotel tonight, okay sweetheart?”

As he starts remembering who he is and why he’s here, he remembers bits and pieces about you, too. He remembers how you met, how you like your coffee, how your laugh sounded. He has no idea how you’d end up here, he doesn’t recall you being an astronaut, or anything related to that field. To be fair, he doesn’t know why he’s here either. From what he remembers, his specialty was molecular biology and teaching middle school, not rocket science.

He checks your pod multiple times a day, making sure you’re still alive. He talks to you about what he remembers, even if you can’t hear him. He asks you questions, even when you can’t answer. Makes him feel a little better about talking to himself in the terrifying vastness of space.

“You’re a liability, Mrs. Grace. He will need to forget everything about you to focus on the dire mission at hand.” Stratt says matter-of-factly.

It didn’t take long for you to find out what they did to him. They put him in the coma against his will—before you could say goodbye. When he didn’t come to the hotel last night, you took a cab to the launch site and demanded to speak to him, and eventually Stratt told security to bring you straight to her so she could explain.

The explanation didn’t help, though.

“Please, just let me go up there with him. Like you said, we don’t have anything else but each other. We don’t have living relatives or kids. If you’re going to send my husband off to die, can’t I die with him?”

“You’d be a waste of precious resources. We can’t allow it.”

“What if I stayed asleep? What if you program the ship to keep me in the coma until the crew figures out the problem? Then I can wake up and I can live out the rest of my days with him. I wouldn’t affect the mission.”

“Still a waste of resources. You’d be another body to upkeep.”

“Oh please, I know you science experts didn’t only make 3 pods, that would be stupid. I’m sure there’s an extra in there and extra food and water for emergency supply. What’s there to lose for you? All four of us will end up dying out there anyway. Why does it matter how soon?”

Stratt huffs. She can’t say you’re wrong. They do have an extra pod in the ship in case one breaks. They did pack as much food and food-adjacent sludge as they could fit. They could very easily program the ship to not wake you up until the probes are released back to Earth and the mission is complete.

There’s a few beats of silence.

“Go ahead. Take her.”

You nod as security takes you away.

“Grace have mate, question?” Rocky’s translator voice asks.

“I…did.” Ryland sighs, looking towards the door. “She’s asleep, in there. She didn’t wake up like I did.”

“Why not watch mate sleep, question?”

“I do sometimes. But after a while I have to accept she’s not waking up. At least not soon.”

“What name?”

Ryland tells him, and Rocky makes up a word for your name in his own language. It’s quite pretty.

“Rocky help Grace wake up mate.”

“I don’t think so, buddy. I don’t know what killed the other two, I don’t want to risk killing her too. Besides, we need to focus on saving our stars first.”

“Yes. Grace Rocky save stars. Then Grace Rocky save mate.”

To your surprise, they let you see him before they put you to sleep. He’s fully knocked out, likely drugged. It hurts to see him like that, but you know you’ll see him awake again someday. Even if it’s years in the future you don’t have concept of.

You cooperate as the medical staff prepare you for launch, wincing as they poke you with way too many things and check your vitals. It’s not long before you feel yourself fading, turning your head to look one last time at your husband on Earth.

Eye movement detected.

Ryland jumps, hearing the announcement from the other room. He had just released the probes with the samples and information to earth. Are the sensors malfunctioning?

Wait.

He swings through the halls to the dormitory. The Nanny Bot is attending to you as you sit up and flail around.

“Where am I? What’s going on?” You mumble.

You rub your eyes and stare right at him.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Captain Ryland Grace of the Hail Mary.” He can’t help but smirk. “Also your husband.”

“Wow, really?” You look him up and down. “Love that for me.”

He approaches you slowly, as not to startle you as you adjust back to the land of the living.

“Your memory will come back in time. It took me a while to remember. But you’re safe now, okay?”

“Safe…where?”

“We’re um…”

He didn’t have the privilege of someone calmly explaining to him that he’s in the middle of space, he had to figure it out himself. Is there an easy way to say it?

“We’re in a ship.”

“Well I got that, Captain Grace.”

He likes the sound of that nickname a little too much.

“In space.”

“We’re astronauts?”

“Sort of.”

You roll your eyes as you clumsily try to move some more, getting used to range of motion again. You feel incredibly sick and disoriented, like the worst hangover you’ve ever had but a billion times worse.

But hey, at least there’s a hot guy here who you’re apparently married to.

“Do you…remember your name?” He asks.

“Of course! It’s…” your brain blanks. “No. I don’t.”

“It’s okay. You’re Y/N Grace.”

He grins. What a dork.

“Do you remember where we’re from?”

“Let me take a wild guess…Earth?” You laugh off the absurdity. If you think about the fact you can’t remember anything too much, you might break. “I think America. Maybe Midwest? No, it was the coast wasn’t it? California?”

Ryland nods. “Good. Do you remember what we did there?”

“Were we not NASA scientists?” It seems the obvious answer, and you can only recall incredibly foggy memories about your life together. It’s like there’s a familiarity, you know you know this man, but you know nothing about him.

“No, we weren’t. We were kinda…forced into space against our will. At least I was. I’m hoping you can tell me how you got up here too when you remember.”

There’s something in his eyes, in the way his face softens. You can tell he’s missed you, how much he clearly wants to touch you and hold you, but you’re not the person he knows and loves yet. You don’t remember her yet. He looks like he could cry, desperate to know why you’re stuck here in space with him, why you’re doomed to the same fate.

The Nanny Bot finishes disconnecting you from all the tubes, and Ryland instinctively rushes to your side as you try to stand up. You fall into his arms, your muscles weary from lack of use. He looks at you with such care, tears still welling up in his eyes. He’s with you in every step you take, holding as much of your weight as you put on him. He walks you to the lab so you can sit down at the table. You lean on the surface and start fiddling with some lab equipment sprawled out, moving around your hands and fingers.

“Can you tell me about…me?” You ask him. “My head is still so blank.”

“What do you want to know first?”

“Well…how did we meet? What was our life like?”

“We met in grad school. Against all odds really, since we were studying completely different things. But you were interested in what I had to say for reasons I can’t explain, and you attended my presentation on speculative biology,” he chuckles. “And you were the only one there who actually clapped. Everyone else thought I was delusional. And not only that, you stayed to ask me questions.”

“I…think I vaguely remember that. Your theory was…what was it? Something about water? Oh! It was that water isn’t essential for life, so aliens might not be water based?”

“Yup. Turns out I’m still crazy, by the way, because the alien species I’ve met so far all have water.”

“You’ve met aliens out here??” your eyes widen. "Okay, finish the story first, then you explain that to me, alright?"

"I will, sweetheart," he tenses at the endearment slipping out, but you don't seem to negatively react. "Anyway, that was basically my practice presentation at the university, and I was scheduled to show my research at a conference in Denmark as well. I wanted to ask you out, but I didn't want to be gone for a whole week after a first date and make you think I wasn't interested. But of course I'm dumb, so I ended up not asking you out at all, never even got your contact information, and I thought I'd never see you again."

It warms his heart to see you listening so intently to the love story you don't remember. He wonders if it'll jog your memory, if you'll butt in with a detail he's missing, but you don't. You just stare at him with those beautiful eyes, the same ones who watched him with such wonder the first day you met.

"Thankfully I did see you again, not long after I got back from the conference. My prospects in my field were shot, after I insulted people there and was told my research was a waste of time. My life was in shambles, I don't know why you still gave me a chance. But I bumped into you at the campus cafe, and you asked me if I wanted to come to your thesis presentation. Of course I said yes, and after that we started dating.

"I...didn't really have much to offer you, but you still stuck with me. I lost my job as a professor and connections in research. I had to sell my car and get a job at a middle school just to get by. But eventually things stabilized and we made it work, and we had a small wedding with just our close friends and family. We wanted to have kids too once we were more financially stable. But then the sun started dying and we were too scared to risk it."

"What? The sun's dying?"

"Yeah. That's why we're out here. There's an alien single-cell species called Astrophage eating our sun. But don't worry, Rocky and I figured out how to stop it and sent the information back to Earth in probes. And we're heading back to Earth too."

"Rocky?" you have too many questions to keep up.

"Oh yeah, he's the alien I was talking about. Well, the Astrophage and Taumoeba are alien too, but they're not sentient. Rocky is a very intelligent alien, he has his own spaceship and everything. You would've loved him. He's gone now, though, headed back to his own planet."

Ryland continues catching you up on everything that's happened. You chat for hours, or what feels like it. You don't really know how time works anymore, especially after he explained time dialation to you. You're still struggling to wrap your brain around how much time on Earth has passed since you left the planet. Everything about the events he's describing took place further in the past than they feel.

He explains everything about your life leading up to the launch, and how he was forced on the mission after the science officers died. Occasionally throughout the conversations you get flashes of your life, but nothing recent. You still have no idea how you got here, and you're especially confused why you didn't wake up the same time Ryland did. He basically saved the world while you were sleeping.

You've had enough of sleeping for now though, so when Ryland dozes off, you stay awake to wander around the ship.

Until the alarm blares.

Ryland rushes in, fussing around and mumbling to himself. He takes out some odd shaped containers and checks some things in the lab, his face washed with terror. He says something to you about the Taumoeba escaping the xenonite, and tears form in his eyes when he realizes Rocky is in danger.

"No, no, no..."

He re-contains everything and falls to the floor with his face in his hands. You can't say you fully understand the situation, but you trust his reaction enough to know it's bad. Really bad.

"We have to go help him," Ryland sighs. "I...I can't let him die. But if we save him then we'll die."

"Hang on, what are you saying?" you kneel down next to him. "Why will we die if we save him?"

"Rocky's entire ship is made of xenonite. The Taumoeba have evolved to escape it, so they will have infiltrated his entire ship and fuel. I was able to stop it on our ship, but we only have enough fuel for one trip, either the trip home or the trip to save him and take him to his planet. But if we do that we'll die, probably of starvation. There's nothing on his planet we can eat. We will die there."

Shit. You're dealing with some pretty high stakes after just waking up.

"Okay," you exhale. "I didn't know Rocky like you did. I don't know if you think there's any chance he'd be able to fix the leaks himself. But if there's not, helping him out is our only option, right?"

"His entire ship is the leak. Even someone as smart and talented as him couldn't fix it," Ryland wipes his face and looks up at the ceiling. "It's either he dies or we die."

"Hey," you take his hand. "I trust you. I may not remember much yet, but I trust your character and decisions. Whatever you think is the right thing to do we'll do."

"You're...okay with dying out here?"

"I wouldn't say okay, but you said this was supposed to be a suicide mission anyway. We'd just be running the original mission's course. And at least we'll die together."

He smiles, and after a few moments bursts into tears, wrapping his arms around you.

"I'm so sorry..." he sobs into your shirt.

His decision is clear.

-

A/N: Thanks for reading :) this movie affected me so much it got me writing again lol. I'm working on a sequel to this about Ryland and Reader on Erid (cuz spoiler alert, they don't die)

Update: Link to Part 2!

Rocky mumbles something about humans’ sense of humor, but you tune him out as you turn your head in Ryland’s direction in time for him to press a kiss to your cheek. You feel the tension in your shoulders lighten by a fraction as the corner of your lips curls up. 

Before he can turn away, you curl a hand around the front of his flight suit and pull him back to you, planting a firm kiss on his lips. Ryland only has a moment to return the kiss before you let go of his flight suit.

“Be careful out there,” you say softly, meeting his gaze.

Ryland nods, a determined spark lighting in his eyes. “I always am.”

You want to respond that you’ve seen plenty of evidence to the contrary, but hold your tongue, knowing you’re only delaying Ryland’s departure. Instead, you simply wish him good luck.

While Ryland puts on his EVA suit and prepares the airlock, Rocky says your name and shakes his carapace in what you’ve learned is disapproval. “Distracting Grace from mission, no helpful.”

You roll your eyes and check the velocity readings, seeing it’s still at the necessary 127.5 meters per second. “I’m not distracting him. I’m just being encouraging.”

The exterior airlock door opens, and you hear Ryland groan over the radio. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Rocky perks up. “What problem, question?”

“It’s fine,” Ryland replies, and, from a glance at the airlock, you see him adjusting the ship’s exterior tethers. “It’s just the sky is… slightly on fire.”

At his words, you check one of the external camera feeds and, sure enough, the planet below seems to glow due to the IR blast from the engines. The bright orange fire contrasts against the green planet, reminding you of—

There was less than a week left until launch.

It was the evening, and the sun had long since set over the Kazakh steppes. You drained the water from the boiled pasta down the kitchenette sink in Ryland’s mobile home and set out paper plates and the butter you requested from the central dining hall. 

“Pasta’s ready,” you told Ryland, who frowned down at one of the seemingly endless documents cluttering the kitchen table.

Upon seeing that Ryland continued to stare at a document, you took a few steps forward and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Earth to Ryland? Come in?”

The crease in his forehead smoothed and he looked up. “Sorry, I was doing the math on how much additional space some extra coma slurry would take up.” His lips curled upon seeing you were wearing his periodic table shirt, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his seat at the mobile home’s solitary chair. “Thank you for making dinner.”

You half-heartedly rolled your eyes. “Right, because boiling pasta takes a culinary genius.”

Ryland pulled you in a soft kiss before leaning back and looking at you with warm eyes. “I’m serious. It’s been a long day, and I appreciate you coming to make us both dinner.” A mischievous smile spread across his lips as his hand snuck below the shirt you wore and settled at your waist. “Even if you did come here with ulterior motives.”

Your skin tingled where his hand touched your waist, and a blush crept up your cheeks. “You say that now but—”

The windows shattered as a thunderous explosion shook the mobile home, sending you and Ryland tumbling to the ground while glass shards spilled onto the floor. Ryland sat up and mouthed something to you, but it took you a moment to realize that you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. Thin slits cut across Ryland’s face from the flying shards of glass, and he helped pull you into a sitting position. 

“—you okay?” The ringing in your ears finally eased enough to hear Ryland’s concerned voice. Meanwhile, you could hear sirens in the distance.

You tentatively nodded and shook your shoulders to ease the ache that came from hitting the ground hard. 

Using the table and kitchenette as leverage, you and Ryland tentatively stood up and made your way to the front door. Ryland swung the door open, revealing that the whole house had been pushed a few feet back from the anchored front steps due to the force of the explosion. The Baikonur Cosmodrome had set up lights for the temporary camp, but they were now all dark. You see a fire burning in the far distance.

“Grace? Are you okay?” Stratt’s voice called out from the darkness outside, and you faintly remembered that Ryland had mentioned that her mobile home was next to his.

“Yeah!” Ryland replied on both your behalfs, “What the heck was that?”

“I don’t know,” Stratt’s voice yelled back. “Hold on.”

A few moments later, Stratt emerged from the darkness holding a flashlight and wearing a bathrobe. She spoke back and forth with someone on her handheld radio before finally addressing you and Ryland. She spared you a momentary glance, seemingly unsurprised to see you. “The research center blew up.”

While Ryland asked Stratt who was at the research center, you felt your legs grow wobbly and held onto the door frame for support. “No…” You whispered, realizing what this meant, but neither Ryland nor Stratt seemed to hear you.

Stratt flipped through a wad of papers that held everyone’s schedules and gasped when she reached the page she was looking for. She gasped. “DuBois and Shapiro. They’re scheduled to be there doing some Astrophage experiments.”

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, and you interrupted Ryland’s rambling about the potential blast radius. “Andrea said she was going to join them.”

Ryland froze and Stratt turned her handheld radio back on. “Prime crew—I need your locations. Call them in.” Yao and Ilyukhina swiftly reported in, but there were no responses after that. 

“DuBois! Check in!” Silence. “Shapiro. Dr. Annie Shapiro. Check in!” Again, more silence. Stratt’s eyes flickered to you before turning back to her radio. “Cáceres! Andrea Cáceres, check in!”

The silence from the radio felt deafening and your legs finally gave out under you. Stratt and Ryland’s eyes turned to you, and you knew you were all thinking the same thing: you were now the only science specialist left. 

Instead of meeting either of their gazes, you turned to watch the still burning fire in the distance as tears streamed down your face.

You come back to the present with a tiny gasp, your heart racing from finally remembering what led you to come on the mission after all. You feel a tear escape your eye and quickly wipe it away. Any distractions now could lead the whole mission to fail.

The exterior cameras have automatically turned off to protect their digitizers, preventing you from seeing where Ryland is. Luckily, Rocky chooses that moment to speak.

“Collector is closed,” Rocky says, “Move winch into position.”

You hear Ryland groan over the radio, and you can almost see him summoning his strength to fix the winch into place under the strain of 1.4 g’s of gravity from being at the top of Adrian’s atmosphere.

A minute later, Rocky successfully coaches Ryland through retrieving the sampler. Through his echolocation, Rocky can “see” Ryland’s movements on the ship’s hull. Whatever Ryland is now doing is concerning to Eridian as he voices his displeasure. “Careful, collector important.”

You open your mouth to ask what Ryland did, but a low altitude warning from the ship’s navigation cuts you off. Checking the velocity and altitude readings, you realize the ship has shifted out of the necessary angle it needs to maintain a safe altitude. You feel your palms begin to sweat.

“Hold on tight, Ryland,” you say, as you place your hand on the ship’s controls.

“Why?” Ryland’s strained voice asks, and you can hear the anxiety in his voice.

“Adrian’s gravity is pulling on us too much. I need to readjust the ship’s angle.” You try to imagine Yao’s serious but encouraging face from one of your flight simulations, and the memory sets you slightly at ease. Taking a deep breath, you lightly press on the controls and successfully realign the ship. The ship groans at the change, but the altitude stops deteriorating. Glancing through the airlock’s window, you see that you readjusted in time to avoid dipping below the planet’s aurora borealis.

Just as you’re about to sign in relief, a loud bang hits the hull of the ship. “What was that?” you ask frantically, and glance at the remaining exterior camera. The camera feed shows Ryland crouched down on the ship’s hull and tightly hugging the sampler. You open your mouth to ask again, but Ryland finally speaks up.

“I’m good,” he groans, wobbly standing up and shaking his arm. “Something from the hull came loose and brushed my arm, but the suit protected me. I think if you hadn’t adjusted the angle, it would’ve fully hit me.”

A minute later, you hear Ryland enter the airlock. The ship continues to groan as Ryland joins you in the cockpit, and you frantically check the screens, trying to pinpoint which screen could provide an explanation.

“Where is that noise coming from?” Ryland asks, voicing your thoughts.

“Noise is from all around,” Rocky quickly replies, and his carapace tilts in the way he does when he’s extending his echolocation far. “It’s loudest at portside of bedroom.”

While Rocky and Ryland speculate on whether gravity could be the cause, you focus on the ship’s navigation controls. With a firm push, you put the spin-drive onto full blast, causing the three of you to lurch back at the force.

“Hull bending below big room in bedroom,” Rocky says while the ship flashes a warning about the hull pressure.

“That’s the fuel tanks!” Ryland replies from his seat in the corner of the control room.

You focus on the ship controls and altitude readings while Ryland and Rocky argue back and forth. “Quiet!” You finally yell over the groaning of the ship and their bickering. “I can’t concentrate when you’re both shouting!”

Luckily, Ryland and Rocky have the decency to look embarrassed, and you can see Ryland’s pout and Rocky’s downturned carapace in the periphery of your vision. After several minutes, you finally stop the engines.

You raise your hands from the controls. “We did it!” you say with a relieved smile.

A matching smile spreads across Ryland’s face as objects in the cockpit float from the lack of gravity. However, after a few seconds, the objects begin to drop, slightly and then frighteningly fast. A sudden jerk from the ship sends your seat flying toward the opposite end of the cockpit, narrowly avoiding Ryland’s chair.

“Why ship moving, question?” Rocky asks, frantically holding onto the handhold in his xenonite tunnel.

Mary’s voice speaks up as various alarms begin to go off. “Hull breach. Portside fuel compartments 11 and 12.”

The force of “gravity” begins to feel stronger, and you attempt to drag your chair back to the center. Meanwhile, Rocky asks what is happening.

Ryland flicks on the screen closest to him to display the exterior camera feed. “The fuel line is migrating to Adrian!”

“Eject bad fuel bay, question?” Rocky says, and you can see his legs shaking from the strain of holding on.

You groan out an affirmative as you press the controls to jettison compartment 12. You have to nearly throw yourself against the opposite wall to flick the switch. The force of the jettison pushes you sideways. You hear a strangled chirp and loud thump from Rocky’s direction as he slams against his xenonite barrier.

Ryland helps you program the control for compartment 11, but the pressure from the ship’s spinning begins to feel unbearable. With your remaining strength, you throw yourself at the switch to jettison the compartment. Your head slams against the wall and rattles your skull. Within a few seconds, you can feel blood begin to pour down your face. As darkness creeps into the corners of your vision, you hear Ryland screaming your name and push the jettison button with your remaining strength.

PART 10 - THE TRUST

The backyard had started to feel like an extra room of the house.

Early fall meant the heat had finally loosened its grip; the air warm but breathable, the light softer, stretching long across the grass. Someone, probably you, had dragged the old string lights back up along the fence a few weeks ago, and now they blinked lazily overhead even though the sun hadn’t fully set yet.

Joel sat back in one of the worn outdoor chairs, boots planted, a beer sweating slowly in his hand. Across the yard, you and Sarah were crouched over something involving popsicle sticks, a measuring tape, and entirely too much glitter for a school night.

“…I still say we should’ve remembered our own anniversary,” you were saying, laughing under your breath as Sarah carefully sprinkled glitter like a scientist handling explosives.

“We did remember,” Joel called. “Just… late.”

Sarah looked up immediately at you. “You are such a mess.”

You didn’t even try to deny it. “Hey, we both forgot,” you said with dignity.

Joel shrugged. “Been busy.”

“Busy being old,” Sarah corrected.

You snorted.

You’d celebrated anyway. Late. Takeout, a movie after Sarah went to bed, and Joel giving you a small gold pendant he’d clearly spent weeks picking out and pretended he hadn’t. It had been quiet. Perfect. Very you.

The flower bed near the fence where Sarah decided to play next was considerably less successful. You had planted it yourself months before… and most of it had not survived the experience.

“They're dormant,” you insisted when Joel brought up removing them for the eighteenth time.

“They're dead,” Joel replied.

“You don't know that.”

“Sweetheart, they're brown.”

Sarah settled the debate by making little popsicle-stick grave markers for three of them, which you still claimed that was deeply disrespectful.

Now the evening felt settled. Easy. The kind of ordinary that had taken a long time to earn.

The side gate creaked, and none of you reacted at first; people came and went enough that it wasn’t unusual, but then a familiar voice carried across the yard.

“Y’all just gonna sit out here without me now?”

Sarah froze. Actually froze. Then she spun so fast she nearly knocked over the stick bucket.

“TOMMY?!”

He stood just inside the gate like he’d always belonged there. Duffle bag slung over one shoulder. Leaner. Cleaner. Hair a little shorter. Eyes clearer than Joel had seen them in years.

Sarah launched at him full force. He barely got the bag off his shoulder before she hit him, arms locking around his middle. He let out a surprised grunt and then laughed, a real one, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her clean off the ground.

“Well, damn,” he said into her hair. “That’s a welcome.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” she accused, already halfway to tears and smiling at the same time.

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” he said.

You reached them next, slower. Like you needed to see it properly.

“You look…” you stopped, shook your head once. “You look good.”

Tommy’s grin softened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then you stepped forward and hugged him. Tight. No awkwardness, and absolutely no hesitation. He returned it just as firmly, one hand coming up to the back of your shoulder in a quick squeeze that said more than words.

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly enough only you could hear.

You squeezed once in answer. Let go before it got too heavy.

Joel hadn’t moved yet. He was still by the chair. Watching. Tommy looked up and met his eyes.

For a second neither of them said anything. Months of history. Years of history. All of it sitting there between them, quieter now but not gone.

Tommy shifted his weight. Cleared his throat.

“…You gonna just sit there lookin’ grumpy,” he said, voice rough but trying for normal, “or you comin’ over here.”

Joel stood. Crossed the yard in a few slow steps. Stopped in front of him.

They stared at each other for half a second.

Then Tommy said, low, almost sheepish, “Hey, big brother.”

Joel pulled him in. Hard.

One arm around his shoulders, the other at the back of his neck, hauling him close in a grip that was more bone than gentleness. Tommy returned it just as hard, their shoulders colliding like they needed the impact to make it real.

It wasn’t graceful. Wasn’t pretty. It was the kind of hug men gave when words weren’t enough and never had been.

Joel squeezed once, rough. Let out a breath against Tommy’s shoulder.

“…Missed you, you idiot,” he muttered.

Tommy huffed a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Missed you too.”

They separated with a couple of hard claps to each other’s backs like neither of them was interested in making a scene about it.

Tommy glanced around the yard, hands settling on his hips.

“…So,” he said, like he’d just walked in from work. “What’s for dinner.”

You burst out laughing. Sarah whooped.

Joel just shook his head and muttered, “Unbelievable,” but there was no heat in it at all.

Dinner ran long. Tommy talked. Steady. Present. He ate like someone who hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in a while and didn’t plan to waste the opportunity.

Sarah filled him in on everything he’d missed. School drama. soccer scores. The anniversary she’d helped ‘fix’. He listened to all of it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Afterward, when dishes were done and Sarah finally dragged herself to bed after insisting on one more hug, one more question, one more everything; the house settled.

Tommy ended up at the kitchen table with a glass of water instead of beer. You, sitting across from him. Joel leaning back in his chair, watching both of you. No one rushed the conversation.

Tommy rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Program was… good,” he said finally. “Hard. Real hard. But good.”

You nodded once, letting him set the pace.

“They don’t let you bullshit,” he added. “Not even a little. First week I thought I was gonna walk out twice.” A small huff of self-awareness. “Wouldn’t have made it two days on my own.”

Joel stayed quiet. Listening.

“Group therapy,” Tommy went on. “Individual. Veteran meetings. Turns out… lotta guys like me.” A faint, humorless smile. “Who knew.”

Your voice stayed gentle. “You stayed.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at you. Then at Joel. “I stayed.”

He took a sip and then sighed loudly.

“They set me up with a therapist here,” he added. “And there’s a veterans AA group on Thursdays. Already got the schedule.” He tapped the table lightly. “Gonna stick with it.”

Joel nodded once.

“Good,” he said.

Tommy looked at him then. Really looked. Like he needed to know where he stood.

Joel held his gaze.

“…I’m proud of you,” he said.

Simple. Rough. No decoration.

Tommy swallowed hard. Looked down for a second. Nodded once.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Tryin’ to give you a reason to be.”

You reached across and squeezed his hand briefly. 

The three of you sat there a while after that. Quiet. No big speeches left to make.

****************

Morning came quieter than the night before. Joel woke early out of habit, the house still dim with that pale blue light that came just before sunrise. For a moment he stayed where he was, one arm stretched across the other side of the bed. Empty.

He blinked once, frowning slightly, then heard movement downstairs. Cabinet doors. The soft scrape of something on the counter. He pushed himself up, dragged a hand through his hair, and pulled on a T-shirt before heading down.

You stood in the kitchen tying your hair back into a loose ponytail. You were already dressed for your run. Dark stretchy pants, worn sneakers, and one of those fitted tops that stopped just short of your waist. When you lifted your arms to tighten the elastic, the movement exposed a strip of skin across your stomach.

Joel stopped halfway down the stairs. Well now.

You turned when you heard him.

“Morning,” you said lightly.

Joel leaned against the railing, arms folding slowly.

“…You goin’ somewhere dressed like that?”

You blinked once, then glanced down at yourself.

“Running,” you said. “Like always.”

“Mm.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, completely unfazed.

Joel pushed off the railing and wandered into the kitchen, eyes still on you.

“You know,” he said casually, “I could think of a better use of the next thirty minutes.”

You didn’t even look up while you adjusted the watch on your wrist.

“Oh really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He stepped closer, resting his hands on the counter on either side of you.

“Could make it worth your while,” he added.

That got your attention. You looked up slowly, one eyebrow lifting. Joel leaned in a little, voice dropping.

“Very worth your while.”

You studied him for a moment like you were actually considering it. Then you leaned forward and kissed him, quickly. When you pulled back you were already smiling.

“Nice try.”

Joel sighed dramatically.

“Woman,” he muttered, “I am offerin’ you a perfectly respectable alternative to cardio.”

You grabbed your keys.

“You know what happens if I skip a run.”

Joel snorted.

“Yeah,” he said. “You get grumpy and start reorganizin’ the spice rack.”

“That was one time.”

“You alphabetized paprika.”

“It needed structure.”

He shook his head slowly.

“…Unbelievable.”

You walked toward the door, but paused long enough to brush your fingers lightly along his jaw as you passed.

“Make coffee for me?” you said.

Joel caught your wrist briefly.

“You’re really leavin’ me like this?”

You leaned in just enough to murmur against his ear.

“Taking a rain check,” you said softly. “I plan on collecting later,” you reached the door and opened it “Also… we both know you wouldn’t be satisfied with thirty minutes.”

Then you slipped out before he could answer. Joel stood there for a second staring at the closed door.

“…Cruel,” he muttered.

Outside, he heard the quick rhythm of your footsteps fade down the street. He made himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, watching the early light stretch across the backyard.

It still caught him off guard sometimes. How easily you had slipped into this life. Into the house. Into the mornings. Into him.

Sarah adored you. Tommy trusted you. The house felt different when you were there. Lighter. 

Joel took a slow sip of coffee. And for a man who’d spent most of his life expecting things to fall apart sooner or later, that kind of quiet happiness still felt a little unbelievable. But he’d take it. Every damn morning.

A while later, Joel was halfway through his second cup of coffee when he heard footsteps upstairs. Heavy. Uneven. Dragging. Sarah appeared in the doorway a moment later, hair pointing in six different directions. She squinted at him.

“…I’m hungry.”

Joel chuckled.

“Of course you are.”

She stared at the coffee.

“Gross.”

He snorted and pushed a bowl across the counter.

“Eat.”

Sarah climbed onto one of the stools, still half asleep, and started spooning cereal into a bowl like someone operating heavy machinery. Joel was reaching for the milk when the back door burst open.

“Smells like coffee and poor decisions in here.”

Joel didn’t even look up.

“…Mornin’, Tommy.”

Sarah perked up instantly.

“Uncle Tommy!”

Tommy stepped inside like he’d been invited, wearing jeans, boots, and the same jacket he’d been living in lately. His hair was still damp like he’d showered five minutes ago. He spotted the coffee pot immediately.

“Oh hell yes.”

“Don’t,” Joel said automatically.

Tommy was already pouring himself a cup.

“Too late.”

Sarah slid off the stool and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“You didn’t say you were coming!”

Tommy grinned down at her.

“Didn’t know I had to schedule breakfast now.”

Joel reached past him to grab the milk.

“You do if you plan on drinkin’ my coffee.”

Tommy took a long sip and sighed like a man tasting heaven.

“Worth it.”

Sarah was already rummaging through the fridge.

“We’re out of waffles.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Tommy said.

Joel closed the fridge door with his hip.

“You ate the last ones yesterday.”

Tommy looked offended.

“I was helpin’ reduce inventory.”

Sarah turned toward Joel.

“He ate four.”

“Three,” Tommy corrected.

“Four,” she insisted.

“Small ones.”

Joel rubbed a hand over his face.

“…Jesus.”

The front door opened just then.

You stepped inside, cheeks flushed from the run, ponytail loose and slightly messy, breathing lightly but steady. Joel took one look at you and felt his body react immediately…Yeah. That rain check was gonna be a problem.

You’d stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. Took in the scene: Sarah standing on a chair digging through the freezer. Tommy drinking Joel’s coffee like he paid for it. Joel leaning against the counter looking ten seconds from mutiny.

“…I was gone forty minutes,” you said.

Tommy lifted his mug toward you.

“Mornin’.”

You walked in slowly.

“You’re eating our breakfast again.”

Tommy shrugged.

“I’m contributing emotional support.”

Sarah held up the empty waffle box accusingly.

“He’s the reason we have none.”

You dropped your keys on the counter.

“Well,” you said mildly, “that explains the crime scene I guess.”

Joel pushed another mug toward you without looking.

“Coffee.”

You took it with a grateful hum.

“Thank you.”

Tommy eyed your running clothes.

“Joel try to convince you not to go?”

You took a sip.

“Of course.”

Sarah perked up.

“Why?”

You glanced at Joel, then smiled slightly.

“He had… other plans.”

Joel pointed his finger at Tommy without turning around.

“Don’t.”

Tommy burst out laughing.

“Oh man.”

Sarah frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Joel grabbed the waffle box from the counter and tossed it in the trash.

“It means you’re eatin’ more cereal.”

Tommy leaned against the counter, still grinning.

“This house is chaos before eight a.m.”

You took another sip of coffee, eyes flicking briefly to Joel.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “It really is.”

And Joel realized he didn’t mind that at all.

You disappeared upstairs a minute later, mumbling something about a “two-minute shower before work.”

Joel watched you go for a second. Tommy noticed.

“Man,” he said, leaning against the counter with his coffee, “you got it bad.”

Joel didn’t look at him.

“Eat your cereal.”

Tommy snorted. Sarah was still perched on the stool, crunching loudly through her bowl.

“So,” Tommy said after a moment, like the thought had just occurred to him. “Buddy of mine from the program’s got a cabin out near Lake Buchanan.”

Joel reached for the coffee pot.

“Mm.”

“Nothing fancy,” Tommy went on. “Just a little place. Dock, old fishing boat, couple rooms.”

Joel poured more coffee.

“Good for him.”

Tommy watched him a second.

“He offered it to me next weekend.”

Joel glanced at him.

“And?”

Tommy shrugged.

“Figured we could go.”

Joel frowned slightly.

“Go where.”

Tommy gestured vaguely.

“Fishin’. Like we used to.”

That made Joel pause. Not long. Just long enough. Sarah looked between them.

“You guys went fishing?”

“Used to,” Tommy said. “Your dad here used to catch the biggest ones.”

Joel scoffed.

“That’s because you kept scarin’ the fish away with your loud blabberin’.”

Tommy grinned.

“Still do.” He took another sip of coffee. “Place is only like two hours out, tops,” he added. “Quiet. Trees. No phones goin’ off every five minutes.”

Joel leaned his hip against the counter.

“Sounds nice.”

Tommy nodded.

“Yeah.” A moment passed, and then he said it plainly. “Come with me.”

Joel shook his head immediately.

“Nah.”

Sarah frowned.

“Why not?”

Joel ruffled her hair as he walked past.

“Because someone’s gotta stay here and make sure you eat something besides cereal.”

“That’s not a reason,” she protested.

Tommy watched him carefully.

“It’s two days, Joel.”

Joel grabbed the waffle box out of habit before remembering it was empty.

“Still.”

Tommy leaned back against the counter again.

“Sarah’d survive forty-eight hours without you.”

Joel tossed the empty box in the trash.

“Would she.”

Tommy tilted his head.

“You ain’t been fishing in years.”

Joel didn’t answer. Upstairs, the shower turned off. Water pipes rattled softly through the walls.

Tommy glanced toward the ceiling. Then back at Joel.

“…Think about it.”

Joel took another sip of coffee.

“I am thinkin’ about it.”

But the way he said it didn’t sound like thinking. It sounded like a no. Tommy noticed that too. He didn’t push. Not yet…

Sarah climbed into the back seat with her backpack and immediately started talking. Joel didn’t think she’d taken a breath since the front door.

“…and Emma says frogs can freeze in the winter and then wake up again in the spring.”

Tommy twisted slightly in his seat to look at her.

“That so.”

“Yeah,” Sarah said seriously. “Her dad told her.”

Joel pulled away from the curb.

“Sounds like somethin’ her dad made up.”

Sarah gasped.

“No he didn’t.”

Tommy grinned.

“Science is mysterious, Joel.”

Joel snorted. They reached the school drop-off line a few minutes later, the cars inching forward one by one. Sarah leaned forward between the seats.

“Uncle Tommy, are you coming to my soccer game Saturday?”

Tommy glanced at Joel.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

She beamed. Then the car ahead moved and Joel rolled forward. Sarah grabbed her backpack.

“Bye, Dad.”

Joel reached back and squeezed her shoulder as she climbed out.

“Have a good day.”

The truck was quiet for a minute. Tommy stretched his legs in the passenger seat.

“…She’s growin’ fast.”

Joel nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Another block passed. Then Tommy cleared his throat.

“So.”

Joel exhaled.

“No.”

Tommy blinked.

“I didn’t even say nothin’ yet.”

Joel kept his eyes on the road.

“You’re gonna bring up that cabin again.”

Tommy shifted in his seat.

“…Yeah.”

Joel shook his head.

“Still no.”

Tommy rubbed a hand over his jaw.

“C’mon, man. It’s two nights.”

Joel turned onto the highway.

“Still got a kid at home.”

Tommy leaned back against the seat.

“Juliet’ll be there.”

Joel didn’t answer. Which was answer enough. Tommy studied him.

“She’s good with Sarah,” he said.

Joel’s jaw tightened slightly.

“I know that.”

“Then what’s the problem.”

Joel stared ahead at the road.

“There ain’t a problem.”

Tommy snorted softly.

“Sure sounds like one.”

Joel tightened his grip on the wheel.

“It’s two days.”

Tommy shrugged.

“Yeah.”

Joel shook his head.

“Not happenin’.”

Tommy looked out the windshield for a moment. Then he said, quietly:

“You used to love fishin’.”

Joel didn’t respond. Just kept driving. After a moment Tommy added:

“…Just think about it.”

Joel didn’t answer… But he didn’t say no again either.

And Tommy noticed that.

***************

Joel knew the moment he opened the front door that peace and quiet were not going to happen.

“DAD!”

Sarah came skidding across the living room in socks like a small, loud tornado.

Joel barely had time to close the door before she collided with him.

“Whoa,” he said, steadying her by the shoulders. “Easy.”

“You forgot to sign my permission slip.”

Joel blinked.

“…What permission slip.”

“The museum trip,” she said urgently. “Tomorrow.”

Joel dropped his keys on the table and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Alright, hold on.”

From the kitchen, your voice drifted out.

“It’s on the counter.”

Joel followed the smell of dinner and stepped into the kitchen. You were at the stove, stirring something in a pan. Your hair was still slightly damp from your shower earlier, tied up loosely now, and you’d changed into an oversized T-shirt and leggings. You glanced over your shoulder and smiled when you saw him.

“Hey.”

Joel felt some of the day loosen in his shoulders immediately.

“Hey.”

Sarah slid the paper across the counter toward him with dramatic urgency.

“If you don’t sign it I can’t go.”

Joel grabbed a pen.

“I’m signing it.”

“You said that about the library trip and forgot.”

You snorted softly from the stove. Joel shot you a look.

“Don’t encourage her.”

Sarah watched him sign like a hawk.

“Thank you,” she said solemnly.

Joel handed it back.

“You’re welcome.”

She grabbed the paper and ran off toward the living room again, already talking about something else. Joel leaned his elbows on the counter and exhaled.

You slid a glass of water toward him.

“Long day?”

“Yeah.”

You stirred the pan once more, then glanced at him sideways.

“…That rain check still stands, you know.”

Joel looked at you.

“Does it now.”

You gave him a small, amused shrug.

“Depends how tired you are.”

Joel huffed a quiet breath through his nose.

“Never too tired for those kinds of rain checks.”

You smiled to yourself and turned back to the stove. Joel reached for the glass of water. That was when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. Tommy. Joel sighed and opened the message.

A photo filled the screen. A small wooden cabin sitting right at the edge of a quiet lake. Dock stretching out over the water. An old fishing boat tied to the side. Trees everywhere.

The caption read: Told you it was nice.

Joel rubbed his forehead. You noticed immediately.

“What is it?”

“Tommy…”

“What’s he sending you.”

Joel hesitated a second, then handed you the phone. You wiped your hand on a towel and looked at the picture. Your eyebrows lifted.

“That’s beautiful.”

Joel leaned back against the counter.

“Cabin up near Lake Buchanan,” he said. “Friend of his offered it for next weekend.”

You studied the photo another moment.

“Fishing?”

“Yeah.”

You looked up at him.

“And?”

Joel shrugged.

“He’s been trying to drag me out there.”

You glanced back at the picture. Then back at him.

“That actually looks pretty great.”

Joel shook his head.

“Not happenin’.”

You tilted your head slightly.

“…Why not?”

Joel shrugged like it was obvious.

“Two nights.”

“So?”

Joel nodded toward the living room where Sarah’s voice was drifting in and out as she talked to herself about the museum trip.

“Kid.”

You leaned your hip against the counter.

“I’m aware you have one.”

Joel ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“Just doesn’t make sense.”

You glanced at the phone again.

“It’s two days, Joel.”

“Still.”

You studied him for a second.

“You think Sarah can’t survive a weekend without you?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It kind of is.”

Joel rubbed his jaw, already annoyed with the direction the conversation was going.

“She’s eight.”

“And?”

“And I’m not leavin’.”

Your brow furrowed slightly.

“You wouldn’t be leaving her alone.”

Joel didn’t answer immediately. You saw it.

“Joel.”

He sighed.

“I just… don’t like it.”

You waited.

“For two days?” you asked quietly.

Joel gestured vaguely.

“I mean, what if somethin’ happens.”

“What exactly do you think is going to happen in forty-eight hours?”

Joel exhaled hard. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

Joel searched for the words and found the worst possible version of them. “I’m not gonna leave her here.”

The sentence landed like a dropped plate. You didn’t move.

“Here,” you repeated.

Joel realized too late how that sounded. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your voice stayed calm, but something in it had cooled. “Isn’t it.”

Joel pushed off the counter.

“You’re twisting it.”

“No,” you said softly. “I’m listening.”

From the living room Sarah laughed at something on TV.

Joel rubbed a hand over his face.

“I just don’t see the point of goin’,” he muttered.

You looked at him a second longer. Then you turned back to the stove and stirred the pan again.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you said.

Joel knew that tone. And suddenly the cabin photo on the counter felt like a much bigger problem than a fishing trip.

****************

The house settled slowly that night. Dinner had been normal on the surface. Sarah talked through most of it, describing the museum trip she was apparently going to lead personally, and you listened and smiled and asked questions at all the right moments.

Joel answered when he needed to. But something had shifted. It was just… off. By the time Sarah was finally tucked into bed and the lights in the house started going out one by one, the quiet felt heavier than usual.

You were already in the bedroom when Joel came in. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off your jewelry for the day. The lamp on the nightstand cast a warm pool of light across the room.

You glanced up when he entered.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Joel pulled his shirt off and tossed it toward the chair. Neither of you mentioned the kitchen. Neither of you mentioned the cabin.

You set the wristwatch down in the nightstand and slid under the covers first. Joel shut off the lamp a minute later and climbed in beside you.

At first you both just settled into the mattress, the house creaking softly around you the way houses always did at night.

Usually by now you would have made space for him. And Joel would move in behind you automatically, his arm sliding around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You slept like that most nights. You tucked against him, Joel wrapped around you like it was the most natural place in the world.

Tonight you stayed where you were. Facing the other side of the bed. Completely still.

Joel stared up at the dark ceiling for a while. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. But after a minute the space between you began to hurt. It wasn’t much. Maybe six inches. But it felt colder than the rest of the bed.

Joel shifted slightly, almost without thinking. Usually that would have been enough. You would drift back toward him automatically, fitting into the space against his chest like you always did. Tonight you didn’t move.

Joel lay there a while longer. He thought about saying something. About explaining. But every version of the sentence sounded wrong in his head.

I didn’t mean it like that. You know that’s not what I meant. You’re twisting it.

None of it sounded right.

Across the mattress you breathed steadily, already drifting toward sleep. Or pretending to.

Joel turned his head slightly toward you in the dark. He could just make out the shape of your shoulder under the covers. Close enough to reach. But he didn’t.

That morning you’d joked about a rain check. Joel had half expected you’d collect before the night was over. Now it felt like that belonged to a completely different day.

After a while he rolled onto his back again. Staring at the ceiling. Feeling the cold space between you. And knowing damn well he had put it there.

************

The next couple of days felt… wrong. Joel noticed it in small things. You still talked to him. Still smiled. Still asked about his day, about Sarah’s homework, about whether the truck was making that noise again.

Nothing had changed on the surface. But something underneath had shifted. You hadn’t had a fight like this before. Hell, you’d barely fought at all.

You weren't the kind of person who let things sit and rot. If something bothered you, you said it. Straight out. You’d talk it through, fix it, move on. That was how it had always worked between you. Until now. Now you were… quieter. 

Joel didn’t know what to do with that. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of a long time ago.

Sarah’s mom had been the opposite of you when it came to fights. She never said what was wrong. Never said what he’d done. She’d just go silent for days at a time, walking around the house like he wasn’t there, letting him stew in it.

Joel had hated that more than the yelling. With you it had never been like that. Being with you had felt like sailing on a calm sea after years of bad weather. Until now.

And the worst part was he knew damn well he’d caused it. He just didn’t know how to fix it.

By Saturday morning he felt like a man walking around his own house with a rock in his boot. Sarah’s soccer game didn’t care about any of that. The field was already full when they arrived. Kids running everywhere, parents setting up folding chairs along the sidelines, whistles blowing from three different directions.

Sarah’s team was warming up near the far goal.

“There she is,” you said, spotting her first.

Sarah waved the second she saw you all. Tommy waved back like he was greeting a celebrity.

“Star player,” he said.

Joel set up the chairs while you grabbed the cooler from the trunk. You settled along the sideline with the rest of the parents.

Sarah’s team took the field a few minutes later. For a while the game gave Joel something else to focus on. Kids chasing the ball in a chaotic pack, parents yelling encouragement, the occasional dramatic fall that looked much worse than it was.

You clapped when Sarah managed a decent pass.

“Nice one!” you called.

Joel noticed Tommy watching you two. Not the game. You and him. Tommy leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“…Alright,” he said finally. “What’s goin’ on.”

Joel kept his eyes on the field.

“Nothin’.”

Tommy snorted.

“Bullshit.”

You didn’t say anything. Tommy looked from one to the other.

“You two been weird all mornin’.”

Still nothing. Tommy tried again.

“Did I miss somethin’?”

Joel shifted in his chair.

“No.”

Tommy frowned.

“Did y’all fight or somethin’?”

You looked at him.

“No, Tommy.”

The tone wasn’t sharp. But it was… close. Tommy blinked slightly. He wasn’t used to that from you.

“…Alright,” he muttered, backing off. He watched the field for a few seconds, scratching his jaw. Then he changed subjects. “So,” he said, nudging Joel with his elbow, “you think about the cabin?”

Joel sighed quietly.

“Tommy.”

“I’m serious,” Tommy went on. “Jeff offered it again last night. It’s a great spot. Quiet lake, nobody around, fish big as your arm.”

Joel didn’t answer. Tommy leaned forward again, still trying.

“Two days, man. That’s all I’m askin’.”

Joel stared at the field.

“Drop it.”

Tommy frowned, confused.

“Why?”

Joel didn’t respond. Tommy gestured toward the field where Sarah was chasing the ball.

“Look, Sarah’ll be fine. Juliet’s a champ with her.”

Joel muttered low.

“Tommy-”

Tommy kept going. “Can’t she just stay with Juliet for a couple days?”

Silence. Joel closed his eyes briefly.

“…Tommy.”

You stood up. “Apparently not.”

Joel exhaled sharply. “…Fuck.”

You grabbed your keys from the chair. “I’ll be in the car.”

Right then the referee blew the final whistle.

The field erupted with noise; kids cheering, parents clapping. Sarah had scored at the last second. She turned immediately toward the sideline looking for you.

Tommy watched you walking across the grass toward the parking lot. Then he slowly looked back at Joel.

“…Oh.”

Now he understood. And judging by his face, he wished he didn’t.

The ride home was quiet. Not the comfortable kind. The kind that sat heavy in the truck, pressing against the windows. Sarah talked the whole way. About the goal. About how the goalie had almost blocked it. About how Coach Jones said she might get to play forward next week. Joel nodded when he needed to. Said ‘that’s great, baby’ at the right moments. But his hands stayed tight on the wheel. You stared out the passenger window.

Tommy sat in the back seat, unusually quiet, like a man who had finally realized he’d stepped straight into the middle of something he didn’t understand.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the silence had thickened into something uncomfortable. Inside the house, Sarah kicked off her shoes immediately.

“Did you see the way I kicked it?” she said.

“I did,” Tommy said quickly.

He clapped his hands together once.

“Hey. C’mere a second.” Sarah followed him automatically. “Wanna show me how you did it?” he asked. “Like the whole play.”

Her face lit up. “Yeah!”

Tommy glanced once toward the kitchen where you and Joel had both drifted without speaking. Then he jerked his head toward the hallway.

“Let’s go to your room,” he said. “You can draw it for me.”

Sarah grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs, still explaining the play at full speed. Their voices faded down the hallway.

The house went quiet. Joel leaned against the kitchen counter. You stood on the other side of the room, arms folded tight across yourself. Neither spoke for a moment. Joel finally exhaled.

“Tommy didn’t mean anything by it.”

You laughed once. Not amused. “I know he didn’t.”

Another silence stretched. Joel shifted his weight.

“You’re makin’ this bigger than it is.”

Your head snapped up. “Bigger than it is?”

“It’s a stupid fishing trip, Juliet.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

Your voice rose slightly. “The point is you don’t trust me with her.”

Joel shook his head. “That’s not-”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“You said it!” you snapped. “You said you couldn’t leave Sarah with me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said you wouldn’t go because you couldn’t leave her with me!”

Joel’s temper flared. “I said I wasn’t comfortable leaving.”

“Leaving her with me,” you shot back.

Joel ran a hand through his hair. “You’re twisting what I said.”

You stared at him, disbelief creeping into your voice. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, Joel.” You paced once across the kitchen, frustrated energy radiating off you. “I have been living in this house with you and Sarah for months.”

Joel didn’t answer.

“I help with homework,” you continued, voice shaking now, “I cook, I drive her places, I sit through soccer practice and school meetings and dentist appointments-”

“I know that.”

“-and she trusts me,” you pressed on. “She talks to me. She comes to me when she’s upset. We have built a relationship.”

“I know.”

“And yet somehow,” you said, voice cracking now, “I am still not someone you can leave her with for two days.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?”

“No.”

You stared at him. “What exactly would make it fair, Joel?”

He didn’t answer. You laughed again, bitter this time.

“Another year? Two? A background check? Should I submit references?”

“Juliet-”

“No, really,” you pressed. “Tell me what I have to do.”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

Your voice jumped an octave.

“I am not blowing this out of proportion!”

“You are!”

You stepped closer now, tears bright in your eyes.

“This isn’t about the fishing trip!”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about the fact that you just made it very clear that no matter how much I love her, no matter how much she loves me, I will never actually count.”

Joel’s temper snapped.

“She’s not your daughter.”

The words hit the room like a gunshot. You went completely still. For a split second Joel looked like he might take it back. Instead he doubled down.

“This is my decision.”

Your eyes filled. “And that’s it?” you asked quietly.

“Yes.”

Your voice shook. “You don’t even want to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Joel-”

“This discussion is over.”

The words were loud enough to echo. You swallowed. Then you turned away and grabbed your keys from the counter.

Joel frowned. “…Where are you going.”

“I’m going to my mom’s.”

The words were tight.

“For how long?”

You shook your head, already walking toward the door. “I don’t know.”

“Juliet-”

But the front door opened. Closed. A second later the sound of your car starting filled the driveway. Joel stood frozen in the kitchen. The engine faded as you drove away.

Upstairs, footsteps hurried. Tommy came down first.

Sarah was right behind him.

“What happened?” Sarah asked.

Tommy glanced out the window at the empty driveway.

“…Your dad and Juliet just had a disagreement,” he said carefully.

Joel still hadn’t moved. Tommy looked at him.

“What the hell happened?”

Joel didn’t answer. The house felt very quiet. And suddenly very empty.

*************

The afternoon dragged. Joel tried to keep busy. He cleaned the kitchen twice. Rearranged a stack of mail that didn’t need rearranging. Walked out to the driveway and back for no reason.

The house felt wrong without you in it. Too quiet. Tommy had figured that out fast. He stayed mostly in the living room with Sarah, watching TV with the volume low.

Every now and then Joel caught Sarah glancing toward the kitchen like she was trying to read his mood. Around four he gave up pretending he wasn’t waiting. He pulled his phone out and called you. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Voicemail. Joel hung up before the message could start. He stared at the phone for a second. Then shoved it into his pocket.

From the living room Sarah’s voice carried over.

“Dad, did you see my goal? It went like this!”

Joel leaned in the doorway. “Yeah,” he said shortly.

“It was pretty good, right?”

“Yep.”

Sarah tilted her head. “You didn’t even look.”

Joel sighed and said, probably a tad angrier than he meant: “I saw it earlier, kiddo.”

She frowned and looked back at him. “You’re being a grump.”

Joel felt something inside him tighten. “I’m not a grump.”

“You kinda are.”

“I said I’m not.”

Sarah crossed her arms. “You’re mad because Juliet left.”

Joel’s head snapped toward her. “That’s enough.”

“But you made her leave.”

“She left.”

“Because you yelled at her!”

Joel felt his temper spike. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do too!”

“You weren’t even part of that conversation.”

“I heard it!”

The words landed harder than Joel expected.

“You weren’t supposed to.”

“Well I did!” Sarah stood up now. “You said you couldn’t leave me with her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I said.”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t.”

“You said you couldn’t go fishing because you couldn’t leave me with Juliet!”

Joel ran a hand over his face. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?!”

“That’s enough.”

“No it isn’t!”

Her voice cracked now. “We’re together all the time,” she said. “She helps me with everything. She makes dinner with me. We watch movies. She's the best.”

Joel stayed silent.

“So why can’t I stay with her?” Sarah demanded. “Why can’t Uncle Tommy take you fishing?”

Joel snapped. “BECAUSE I SAID SO!”

The words rang through the room. Sarah flinched. Joel pointed up the stairs.

“Go to your room.”

She stared at him. “No.”

That did it.

“Go. To. Your. Room.”

The shout cracked through the house. Sarah froze. Her face changed immediately. Shock first. Then hurt. Her eyes filled so fast it made Joel’s stomach drop. She almost never cried. Almost never. She turned and ran down the hallway.

Her bedroom door slammed. The sound echoed through the house. Joel stood there breathing hard. The silence afterward felt enormous. From the hallway doorway Tommy had been watching the whole thing. He hadn’t said a word. Now he stepped into the room slowly.

Joel still hadn’t moved.

Then Tommy said quietly, “…Well.”

Joel didn’t answer. He was still standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the hallway where Sarah had disappeared.

Tommy pushed himself off the wall and walked a few steps into the room.

“You gonna tell me what this is really about?”

Joel rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Tommy…”

“Cause I refuse to believe this is about you not trusting Juliet,” Tommy went on. “Not after everything.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “You’re one to talk.”

Tommy blinked once. “…About what?”

Joel shrugged, but there was an edge to it. “I dunno. Maybe the part where you spent the last few years drunk out of your mind.”

The words hung in the air. For a second Tommy just stared at him. Then he nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said. His voice wasn’t angry. Just steady. “I did.”

Joel didn’t say anything. Tommy crossed his arms.

“But I got my shit together. I went to rehab,” he continued. “It’s been hard as hell, it still is, every day. But I got sober.”

Joel’s eyes flicked toward him.

Tommy held his gaze. “And you know what?” There was a small pause. “It was mostly because of her.”

Joel didn’t respond.

Tommy shook his head slowly.

“I swear to God,” Tommy said quietly, “if you lose that woman because of your fucking pride…”

He didn’t raise his voice. That somehow made it worse.

Joel’s head snapped up. Tommy held his gaze.

“You remember what you were like before she showed up?”

Joel didn’t answer.

Tommy pushed off the counter and took a step closer.

“You were miserable, man.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

“You worked. You slept. You snapped at everybody who got within ten feet of you. House felt like a damn bunker half the time.”

Joel looked away. Tommy kept going.

“Then she comes along and suddenly you’re laughing again.”

Joel didn’t respond.

“You cook together,” Tommy said. “You sit outside at night. Hell, you even started listening when I talk about my stupid shit instead of just grunting at me.”

Joel’s shoulders shifted slightly. Tommy shook his head.

“And Sarah?” He gestured toward the hallway. “She looks at Juliet like she hung the moon. She loves her, man.” Silence. Tommy’s voice softened a little. “You got lucky, Joel. Real lucky.”

Joel still didn’t speak.

Tommy exhaled through his nose.

“And now you’re about to blow the whole damn thing up because you’re scared.”

The silence between them stretched. Heavy. Then Joel snapped.

“You don’t know what it feels like.”

Tommy frowned.

“What?”

“Having responsibilities,” Joel said, voice rising. “Being the one person that kid depends on for every damn thing.”

Tommy held his gaze. “Maybe,” he said slowly. “I know I’m not a dad. That’s true. But I do know a good thing when it hits me in the face.”

Joel scoffed. “You think this is about Juliet?”

“What else would it be?”

Joel paced once across the kitchen, agitated now. “You don’t get it,” he said. “It’s always been me.”

Tommy said nothing.

“School. Doctors. Bills. Food on the table. Every decision,” Joel went on, words coming faster now. “Every damn thing that kid needs.” His voice hardened. “There ain’t nobody else if I screw it up.”

Tommy watched him quietly.

Joel gestured toward the hallway.

“That’s the job.”

Tommy tilted his head slightly. “…Yeah,” he said. “It is. But you’re not alone anymore.” Joel didn’t answer. Tommy leaned forward slightly. “You’re acting like letting someone help you is the same thing as abandoning your kid.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

“I’m not abandoning anything.”

“No,” Tommy said calmly. “You’re just refusing to share the load.”

Joel looked away.

Tommy nodded toward the door you had left through.

“That woman’s been standing next to you carrying half of it for months. You just won’t let yourself admit it.”

Joel didn’t move.

Tommy studied him for a long moment. Then he said quietly,

“Man… you’re not protecting Sarah. You’re protecting the version of yourself that had to survive doing it all alone.” The words hung there. And Joel didn’t have an answer. “And instead of tellin’ her you’re scared to let someone share the load with you…” He raised his eyebrows slightly. “…you told her she ain’t the kid’s mother.”

Joel winced.

Tommy nodded once.

“Yeah.” A small silence stretched. Then Tommy said, quieter now, “You know what you should’ve said?” Joel didn’t look up. Tommy shrugged. “Somethin’ like… ‘I’ve been doin’ this shit on my own for so long I don’t know how to stop’.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

Tommy continued. “Or maybe… ‘I’m scared if I let you carry some of it and you leave, it’ll break my heart’.”

Joel finally looked up.

Tommy held his gaze. “That,” he said simply, “would’ve made sense.”

The kitchen went quiet again. Joel stared toward the front door. Then back at Tommy. For the first time since you left, the anger had drained out of him. What was left looked a lot more like fear.

Tommy watched it happen. “…Well,” he said quietly.

Joel rubbed both hands over his face. “I’m such a fuckin’ idiot.”

Tommy didn’t argue.

Joel let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the counter. “What do I do now?”

For once, Tommy didn’t have a joke ready. He shrugged a little. “Same thing the rest of us do when we screw up. Apologize.”

Joel looked up.

Tommy jerked his chin toward the stairs. “Start with the kid.”

Joel followed his gaze. Sarah’s door was still closed.

Tommy pushed himself off the counter. “I’m gonna head out,” he said.

Joel frowned slightly. “You don’t gotta-”

“Yeah,” Tommy said gently. “I do.” He clapped Joel once on the shoulder as he passed. “This one’s yours.”

A second later the front door closed behind him. The house went quiet again. Joel stood there for a moment. Then he walked up the stairs and knocked softly on Sarah’s door. No answer. He knocked again.

“Sarah?”

A quiet voice came from inside. “…What.”

Joel opened the door slowly. Sarah was curled up on her bed with her back against the headboard, knees pulled up. Her face was swollen and her eyes red from crying. That sight hit him harder than anything Tommy had said. Joel stepped inside.

“Hey.”

Sarah didn’t look at him.

Joel sat on the edge of the bed, leaving a little space between them. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then he said quietly,

“I’m sorry.”

Sarah sniffed. “You yelled.”

“I know.” Silence. Joel rubbed his hands together. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sarah picked at the corner of her blanket. “You never yell like that.”

Joel swallowed. “I know.”

Finally she looked up at him. “Is Juliet coming back?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Sarah’s eyes filled again immediately.

Joel felt his chest tighten. “Hey,” he said softly. “Come here.”

She hesitated. Then she scooted closer and leaned against him.

Joel wrapped an arm around her automatically. She was still sniffling.

“I heard what you said,” she mumbled into his shirt.

Joel closed his eyes. “…Yeah.”

“You said she’s not my mom.”

His throat tightened. “I did.”

Sarah pulled back slightly so she could look at him. “But she’s still… kinda ours.”

Joel didn’t have a response to that.

“She makes bracelets with me,” Sarah continued quietly. “And she helps me with math. And she watches movies with us.”

Joel nodded faintly.

“And she makes you laugh,” Sarah added. Her voice got smaller. “I don’t want things to go back to before.”

Joel froze. “What do you mean?”

“You were sad a lot,” she said simply.

Joel looked down.

“And the house was quieter,” she continued. “I like it better now.” Her fingers twisted in his shirt. “Can you fix it?”

Joel swallowed. “Fix what?”

“Whatever you did.”

The words were painfully direct.

Sarah looked up at him with wet eyes. “Please.”

Joel pulled her into a hug, and for a moment he just held her there. His chin rested on the top of her head.

“…I’ll try,” he said quietly.

Sarah sniffed again. “Try really hard.”

Joel let out a weak breath that might have been a laugh. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I will.”

***************

Joel stayed in Sarah’s room until she fell asleep. It didn’t take long. Crying always wore her out. Her breathing had gone slow and steady against his arm, her hand still fisted in his shirt like she was making sure he wouldn’t disappear too. Joel carefully untangled himself and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. For a moment he just stood there looking down at her. Then he turned off the lamp and stepped into the hallway.

The house felt different now. Quieter. He walked back to the kitchen automatically, like he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Your mug was still on the counter. Half a cup of tea gone cold. Joel stared at it for a second before picking it up and rinsing it in the sink. Then he stopped halfway through and set it back down.

The silence pressed in again. He checked his phone. Nothing. No message. No missed calls. He wondered briefly if he should call you again. Then decided he probably shouldn’t.

He leaned his hands against the counter and stared out through the dark window above the sink. Minutes passed. Maybe more. At some point he sat down at the table. Then got up again. Walked to the living room. Turned the TV on. Muted it almost immediately. Turned it off again.

He was standing in the middle of the room when he heard it. Headlights sweeping briefly across the front windows. Joel froze. The sound of a car engine outside. His chest tightened instantly. A door closing. His heart kicked once, hard.

Joel moved before he even realized it, crossing the living room in four quick strides. By the time he reached the front hallway the front door was opening. You stepped inside. The porch light spilled in behind you. Your eyes were red. But your face was calm. Joel felt the tension that had been sitting in his chest all evening loosen all at once.

You’d come back. He hadn’t been sure you would. You closed the door behind you and set your keys on the small table by the wall. Only then did you look up at him. Joel was still standing a few feet away, like he wasn’t sure if moving closer would break something fragile between you.

You broke the silence first.

“I went to my mom’s.”

Joel nodded once.

“I figured.”

You slipped off your jacket and hung it on the back of the chair by the door. The movement was slow, deliberate, like you were giving yourself something simple to focus on. Joel watched you the whole time.

When you turned back toward him, the porch light behind the curtains caught the redness in your eyes.  You looked tired. Not angry. That worried him more.

“My mom made tea,” you said quietly. “And sat me down.”

Joel didn’t say anything.

You let out a small breath. “She’s very good at… putting things into perspective.”

Joel shifted his weight slightly.

You folded your arms loosely, more to hold yourself together than to defend. “She asked me a couple questions,” you continued. “About what actually upset me… And about what part of it was mine… and what part wasn’t.”

Joel felt his stomach tighten a little.

You looked at the floor for a moment, then back at him. “She reminded me that you’re right, Sarah isn’t my daughter.”

The words were calm. Measured. Joel’s chest tightened anyway.

“She said that means some decisions about her are always going to be yours.” You shrugged faintly. “And she’s right.”

Joel frowned slightly. You kept going before he could interrupt.

“I think I got… carried away earlier.” Your voice didn’t shake. But there was something restrained underneath it. “She’s your kid,” you said quietly. “You’re the one responsible for her.”

Joel stared at you.

“And if you’re not comfortable leaving her with someone,” you continued, “that’s your call to make.”

A moment passed. The distance in those words sat heavily in the room. You lowered your eyes briefly.

“I’ll try to get past it,” you said.

Joel’s chest tightened. You weren't angry. You were stepping back.

You looked up again. “I just… need a little time.” Another pause. “I didn’t realize how much that would hurt,” you admitted softly.

Joel felt something twist sharply in his chest. You held his gaze, steady.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to completely get over it,” you said.

The words were gentle, but they landed like a blow. And in that moment Joel understood something that made his stomach drop. You thought he had meant it. That you didn’t belong in that part of their lives.

Joel took a slow step toward you.

“That ain’t what I meant.”

You didn’t move. You just watched him, waiting.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking like a man who had been dropped into a conversation he didn’t know how to finish.

“I know that’s how it sounded,” he muttered. You didn’t interrupt. Joel paced once across the living room, restless. “I said the worst possible thing I could’ve said… And I know that.”

Your voice stayed quiet. “Then why did you say it?”

Joel stopped. He stared at the floor for a second before answering. “Because I panicked.”

That made you blink. Joel let out a breath.

“I been doing this alone for a long time, Juliet.” He gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “Every decision. Every mistake. Every damn thing that kid needs.” Joel shook his head, frustrated with himself. “And somewhere along the way I got it in my head that if I let somebody else carry any of that…” He hesitated. “…then I ain’t doing my job.”

Your expression softened slightly, but you didn’t speak.

Joel ran a hand through his hair. “You asked me why you couldn’t stay with her,” he continued. “And instead of tellin’ you the truth…” He scoffed bitterly. “…I turned it into something ugly.”

Your voice was careful. “What was the truth?”

Joel finally looked at you. His voice dropped. “I don’t know how to stop doin’ it all myself.”

The words hung there between you. Joel gestured helplessly.

“You moved in here and started helping with everything and… I didn’t even notice how much lighter it got.”

Your throat moved.

Joel shook his head again.

“And I swear to God,” he said quietly, “if you think I meant that you don’t belong with us…” He shook his head. “…then I screwed up way worse than I thought.”

Silence filled the room again. But it felt different now. Less sharp. Less final. Joel didn’t move closer. He just stood there, waiting. Because for the first time all day… He had actually said what he meant.

You looked at him for a long moment. The hurt was still there. That hadn’t vanished. But the distance you’d walked in with… had shifted.

“You really scared me today,” you said quietly.

Joel nodded. “I know.”

“I thought…” you stopped, searching for the words. “I thought maybe I had misunderstood everything.”

Joel frowned slightly. “About what.”

“About where I fit here.”

Joel took another small step toward you. “You didn’t misunderstand that.”

You held his gaze. “Because when you said she wasn’t my daughter,” you said carefully, “what I heard was that I wasn’t really part of this.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “That ain’t true.”

You watched him.

Joel rubbed his hands over his face, frustrated with himself again. “I told you,” he muttered. “I panicked.”

A quiet moment passed. You looked down briefly.

“I know she’s your daughter,” you said softly. “I’ve never tried to take that place. And if it felt like I did, I’m sorry.”

Joel shook his head immediately. “I know you haven’t.”

You looked back up. “I just… love her. So much,” you said.

Joel nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

You let out a small breath. “And when you said that earlier…” you added, “it felt like you were telling me I shouldn’t.”

Joel closed the last bit of distance between you. “That ain’t what I was sayin’.”

You studied his face, like you were trying to measure whether you believed that.

Joel hesitated. Then he said it. Rough. Quiet. Almost like it surprised him too. “…I love you.” Joel held your gaze, steady. “I don’t say that much,” he added gruffly. “But it’s true.”

The room went very still.

“I love you,” he repeated. “And I love the way you are with Sarah.” His voice softened a little. “That kid loves you.”

Your composure cracked just slightly at that.

Joel continued, slower now. “I ain’t scared of you hurting her,” he said. “Not really.” There was a small pause. “I’m used to carryin’ everything myself,” he said quietly. “If I let you carry some of it…” He shook his head a little. “…and then you’re gone one day…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Silence filled the room again. But this time it felt fragile.  Joel shifted his weight slightly, like standing still suddenly felt too exposed. He rubbed his thumb across his palm, a nervous habit he barely noticed.

“…you should know’,” he said finally. You didn’t interrupt. Joel glanced toward the hallway for a second before looking back at you. “About today. About what I said.” His jaw tightened slightly. “That was… the worst possible way I could’ve put it.”

You watched him carefully.

Joel exhaled slowly. He looked up at you again.

“From the start. I’ve always been terrified that one day you’d decide that you were done playing house with us, that you didn’t sign up for so much. But…” Another breath. “You should know. If I trust someone to stay…” His voice softened. “…that’s you.”

For a moment you didn’t react. Then something in your expression shifted. 

Joel watched you carefully, like a man standing on thin ice who wasn’t quite sure if it would hold.

“And…” he added, quieter. Joel looked down at the floor for a second before finishing the thought. “…God, I hope you do.” He shook his head faintly, like he hated how exposed he sounded. “Because I don’t…” He stopped, corrected himself. “…I ain’t real sure I’d know how to live without you anymore.”

Your breath caught almost imperceptibly.

Joel looked up at you again. “And I don’t think I’d want to know.”

The room went quiet. Then you stepped forward. Straight into him. Your hands caught his shirt first, bunching the fabric at his chest before your arms slid around him.

Joel froze half a heartbeat. Then his arms came around you automatically, strong and tight, like he’d been holding that back for hours.

He buried his face against the side of your head with a long exhale. The tension that had been wound through him all day finally loosening.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair.

You didn’t answer right away. You just held him. One hand sliding up the back of his neck, fingers curling into his hair the way you always did when you were trying to calm him down.

After a moment you leaned back just enough to look at him. Your eyes were still a little red. Joel’s hands were still at your waist, like he hadn’t quite convinced himself you were really there yet.

You studied his face for a second, searching it. Then you reached up and pulled him down by the front of his shirt.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was the kind that came after too much fear, too much anger, too many hours thinking the other person might be gone. Your mouth crashed into his and Joel answered instantly, one hand sliding up to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer.

For a moment the rest of the house disappeared. The argument. The silence. The knot that had been sitting in his chest for two days. Gone. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing a little heavier.

You kept your forehead resting against his. Joel’s thumb brushed absently along your side.

“…I’m going,” he said quietly.

You frowned faintly. “Going where?”

“With Tommy. That fishing trip.”

Your eyes searched his again. “I don’t want you doing that because of me.”

Joel shook his head immediately. “It ain’t because of you.” Then his mouth softened. “It’s thanks to you.” Joel shrugged a little, like he wasn’t entirely comfortable explaining it out loud. “He’s been tryin’ to drag me out there for years,” he admitted. “And I kept sayin’ no.”

“Why?”

Joel huffed quietly. “Because I’m used to bein’ needed here every second.” He looked at you again. “But Tommy was right about somethin’.”

You tilted your head.

Joel’s hand tightened slightly at your waist. “Now you’re here. With Sarah.”

Your expression shifted.

Joel continued, voice low but steady. “And if I can’t trust you with her…” He shook his head faintly. “…then I ain’t learned a damn thing.”

You stared at him for a moment. “You’re sure?”

Joel didn’t hesitate. “Positive.”

Your eyes searched his face. “Hundred percent?”

“Yes.”

Something in you finally settled. You grabbed his jaw and kissed him. Harder this time.

Joel let out a quiet breath against your mouth before kissing you back just as fiercely, one arm tightening around your waist and pulling you flush against him. Your fingers slid into the back of his hair, holding him there.  You broke apart only long enough to breathe before you leaned in again, slower this time but no less intense.

When you finally separated for real, you rested your forehead against his. “…Wait, wait.”

Joel blinked down at you. “What.”

You leaned back just enough to see his face properly, eyes narrowing with sudden realization. “…So you’re telling me you got relationship advice, actual good relationship advice… ” Joel already looked tired. “…from Tommy.”

He sighed. You shook your head slowly, incredulous.

“Wow.” you chuckled. “You’re fucked.”

Joel huffed a laugh under his breath and dropped his forehead against yours again. “Yeah,” he muttered.“That was about his wording too.”

Joel was still looking down at yoi when the smile faded from your mouth.

The air between you had shifted again. Your hands were still resting against his chest. Joel noticed the way your breathing had slowed. The way you were looking at him now. Different.

He swallowed.

“…What,” he asked quietly.

You shook your head faintly. “Nothing.”

But you didn’t move away. Joel’s hand slid from your waist to the small of your back almost without him realizing it.

“Darlin’...”

You kissed him again before he finished the sentence. This one slower. Deeper. Not desperate like before. Intentional.

Joel let out a quiet breath into the kiss, one arm tightening around your waist and pulling you closer. His hand slid up your back, fingers spreading across your shoulder blades like he needed to make sure you were really there. When you broke apart, both of you were breathing a little heavier. You rested your forehead against his again.

“…Sarah’s asleep?” you murmured.

Joel nodded. “Yeah.”

Neither of you moved for a second. Then you added quietly: “You still owe me that rain check.”

Joel blinked once. Then a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Do I.”

Your fingers slid lightly along the front of his shirt. “You said you’d make it worth my while. Very worth my while if I’m not mistaken.”

Joel glanced instinctively toward the hallway leading to Sarah’s room. Then back at you. “…We’re gonna have to be real quiet.”

Your mouth curved. “I’m a lawyer,” you whispered. “I’m excellent at discretion.”

Joel huffed softly under his breath. Then he kissed you again. This time he didn’t stop.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured.

“You like trouble.”

“That I do.”

You kissed him again. This time Joel didn’t hold back. One hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, the other tightening at your waist as he deepened the kiss, slow and hungry, like he was making up for the last two miserable days all at once.

You laughed softly against his mouth when he started steering you backward. “Joel,” you whispered.

He paused just long enough to murmur against yoir lips: “…Bedroom.”

You nodded once, then moved through the dim house quietly, half-kissing, half-laughing, bumping into the wall once before Joel caught you again, his hands warm and steady at your sides.

When the bedroom door closed (and locked) behind you, the rest of the house fell away. His hands were already at your clothes, impatient, fingers tugging at fabric like the last two days had finally snapped something loose in him.

“Joel-”

“Mm.”

He didn’t even look up, already pulling your shirt over your head.

You laughed under your breath. “Wow.”

Joel’s hands moved to the waistband of your leggings, dragging them down your hips with very little ceremony.

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

He finally looked up at you then, eyes dark, jaw tight. You raised a brow.

“What happened to your famous patience?”

Joel’s mouth brushed your shoulder as he muttered: “No time.”

You snorted softly, fingers already working at the buttons of his shirt. “Well,” you murmured, leaning into him again, “good thing I came prepared.”

And the teasing didn’t slow him down even a little. He pushed you down onto the mattress, following you immediately after disposing of his own pants.

You barely had time to laugh before Joel’s mouth found your neck again, slowly this time, the urgency from before giving way to something deeper. His lips moved downward, unhurried now, tracing a wet path from your throat to the curve of your breast. Your fingers slid into his hair as you let out a soft breath.

Joel paused there for a second, forehead resting briefly against your skin.

“Fuck…” he murmured, voice rough. “I missed this.”

His hand followed where his mouth had gone, brushing your nipple, rougher now, familiar and confident as he moved over you. You gasped softly, your back arching instinctively against him.

Joel’s mouth lingered at your breast, slow and unhurried now, like he was making up for every second he’d spent missing you. One of his hands tightened gently against your side, holding you steady as you shifted beneath him.

Your fingers gripped his shoulders, a quiet breath escaping you as you tried, not very successfully, to stay silent. Joel felt it immediately. He huffed a low laugh against your skin.

“You’re teasing,” you whispered, breath still uneven. “That’s cruel.”

Joel lifted his head just enough to look at you.

“Teasing?” he said, feigning innocence. “Why? What do you want, darlin’?”

You let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. “You know exactly what I want, you arrogant, little-”

The rest of the insult died halfway out of your mouth. Because Joel suddenly bent lower and dragged his tongue slowly across your folds, suckling on your clit. You jerked, a strangled sound escaping you before you clamped a hand over your mouth.

Joel looked up at you, eyes gleaming with pure trouble. “…That what you meant?”

You glared down at him, breath still uneven. “I’m so getting back at you for this later.”

Joel didn’t even look worried. “Can’t wait.”

His fingers teased at your entrance and, when he finally got one inside you, he began to stroke you  slowly, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. He felt your body tightened around him, your fingers gripping the sheets beside you. He knew you were close.

Your head finally fell back against the pillow as the tension finally broke through you. A breath tore from your throat, rough and unguarded, your body trembling as the last of it rolled through you. Joel held you there for a moment, feeling the aftershocks fade beneath his hands. He looked down at you, breath still uneven.

“Worth your while yet?”

Your lips curved slowly. “No…” you murmured.

Then you pulled him down into a kiss. It was deep and hungry, the kind that left no doubt you weren't finished with him. Your hand slid down his stomach, deliberate and slow, and Joel felt the promise in it immediately. You broke the kiss just enough to whisper against his mouth:

“…but it will be.”

Before he could react, you pushed him back onto the mattress and slipped down beside him. Your hand slid over him first, slow and deliberate, making Joel suck in a sharp breath.

Then you moved lower, and Joel’s head tipped back against the headboard as he realized exactly what you were doing. You took his deliciously hard cock in your right hand and began stroking him softly.

“Juliet…” he murmured, already half-wrecked by it.

“Ohh… not so cocky now, are you?”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh. “Funny you should say it like that…”

But the words cut off halfway when you dipped lower, and his head fell back against the pillow. Your mouth tightened around the tip of his length and Joel forgot how to think. He grumbled something that wasn’t even close to words, and when you laughed, the vibration made him groan.

“I thought the plan was to stay quiet,” you whispered, your hand still moving lazily over the base of his cock.

“I’m not real good at remembering plans when you do that, sweetheart,” he said, voice rough as you resumed, tracing your way slowly along him, bottom to top, before taking him fully in your mouth again.

Joel’s hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. He let out a shaky breath.

“Jesus, fuck, Juliet…” he muttered. His thumb brushed lightly against your hair as he added, voice rough, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

He tugged lightly at your arm. “Hey.”

You looked up.

Joel’s mouth curved faintly. “Get up here.” He caught your wrist gently and drew a slow breath. “…You gonna ride this cowboy?”

You blinked up at him for half a second. Then a slow smile spread across your face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You swung a leg over him and settled on his hips, hands braced lightly against his chest.

At first you moved slowly against him, testing the rhythm, a soft brush of your wetness that made Joel’s breath hitch. His hands slid up your sides before settling at your chest, stroking your nipples lazily like he had no intention of rushing this.

“You’re being a tease…”

“You love it,” you murmured, a playful smile on your lips.

Joel looked up at you. “I love you.”

The words hung between you, heavier than the teasing that had come before.

For a second you just stared at him, something in your expression softening, the last of the tension from the past days finally melting away. Then you leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep, like you needed to feel that sentence again.

When you pulled back, you sank slowly into him, the playful edge gone now, replaced with something warmer. He moaned into your mouth, the sound swallowed by a kiss.

For a moment you stayed perfectly still, your warmth enveloping him, eyes closing as you held there, letting the closeness of it sink in. Then you began to move, slowly at first, finding a careful rhythm. Your breath caught, and you bit your lip, fighting to stay quiet in the dark house. Joel thought he might come just from that sight of you alone.

Then you began to move faster, steadier, finding a rhythm that made Joel’s breath catch. His hands found your hips instinctively, holding on as the movement between you deepened.

“God… I love you,” he murmured, voice rough.

His body answered yours without thinking, matching your pace, pulling you closer. He felt himself sliding even deeper. You leaned forward then, needing the closeness, until your chest pressed against his and your foreheads nearly touched.

He felt your rhythm start to falter. Joel knew that sign by heart. His hands tightened slightly at your hips before one of them slid between your legs, his touch gentle now but deliberate. Your breath caught.

“Joel…”

He leaned closer, voice low against your ear. “C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured. “Come for me.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you fought to stay quiet, your breath hitching again and again until you finally broke, a small, strangled sound escaping you as you buried your face against his neck.

Joel held you there, feeling the tremor run through you.

Watching you come undone like that was enough to push him over the edge a few strokes after.

He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing hard but silent, his arms tightening around you as the moment passed.

For a moment you just stayed there, tangled together. The only sound left in the room was your breathing, still uneven in the quiet darkness.

You shifted slightly where you lay against him, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

Then you let out a soft, breathless laugh.

“So,” you whispered, “this is what people mean when they say make-up sex, huh?”

Joel was quiet for a second. Then he muttered, voice rough with sleep and satisfaction:

“…Hell of a way to end an argument.”

You lay half on top of him, your breathing slowly returning back to normal.

Joel watched the ceiling for a while. Then he spoke.

“I’m goin’ with Tommy.”

Your hand paused. You lifted your head just enough to look at him.

“To the cabin?”

“Yeah.”

A small silence followed. Then you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his chest.

“Good,” you murmured.

Joel’s hand slid into your hair.

“Figured it was time.”

You rested your cheek back against him.

“…Sarah and I will survive.”

Joel huffed quietly.

“I know.”

Another quiet moment passed. Then you added, half amused:

“Tommy’s going to be insufferable when he finds out.”

Joel snorted. “Yeah.”

But his arm tightened around you anyway.

His life on Erid was far more familiar than he could have ever hoped, Rocky had made sure his scientist friends had given Grace every comfort he could think of. They even managed to replicate Skittles, alongside all the plants that had survived the trip. It was a long three years in the journey to Erid, but luckily Rocky and Grace had each other to keep company. He had been unbelievably lucky to get to Rocky in time, he couldn't imagine the grief of the alternative. That made a shiver crawl up his spine so he shook his head, changing his thoughts. 

It was also only after the fact when Grace had sent the Beetles to Earth did he realise they had more fuel than he thought they would and given how small they were with less mass to carry he deduced it would also only take them about three years to reach Earth instead of eleven. Which means... they would have arrived to Earth some months ago. By force of habit he looked up into the sky, except it wasn't a sky, it was a dome of sorts. Not that he could see it through all the bright lights and how high up it was. If it wasn't for the fact the gravity was stronger here, which weighed on his joints more, you'd have no idea this wasn't Earth.  

Grace had been here for a little over eight Earth months, the first few on Erid were a little touch and go as he didn't have a lot of food left and had been rationing. Luckily most of the plants and seeds survived but there were only so many cherry tomatoes and zucchinis they could produce. Thankfully, they all seemed to thrive on Erid, with the scientists creating a replica of Earth's soil and using UV lights for growth. Grace was thankful for the UV lights, he'd been low on Vitamin D for some years now, alongside a few other deficiencies. Still, he had you to thank for saving him from wasting away.  

That all too familiar pang in his chest grew tighter each time he thought about you. Seventeen odd years would have passed on Earth. You were twenty-six when he left Earth, so you'd be forty-three now. Grace was thirty-one but because of time dilation he'd only experienced seven years, now making him only thirty-eight. There was still a five-year age gap but now he was the younger one. It made his stomach churn thinking about the time lost.  

You still bewitched his dreams, dreams of every kind, even the kind that had him hard and aching. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks when he thought back to the three year only trip to Erid, there had been times he'd been so needy for you. A man has desires, damnit! And for the most part he'd been good at... keeping it from Rocky, only relieving himself thinking of you when Rocky was dead asleep. Except for that one time. That had been awkward to explain, especially to a species that doesn't necessarily have sex like humans do, let alone for fun and not strictly for reproductive reasons.  

That of course opened a whole can of worms and Grace had to come clean about you being his mate. Rocky, understandably, felt very guilty that Grace had chosen to save him instead of going back home to Earth. Grace had to keep reminded him too many years had passed on Earth anyway. Besides, Rocky needed help and Grace knew you would make the same choice. As would Yao and Ilyukhina.  

He looked up at his ‘tree’ that sat next to his house, it didn't have any leaves as it wasn't genuinely a real tree. Obviously, none of the seeds onboard had been trees, they'd all been vegetables. But it still touched his heart that Rocky and his team tried so hard to bring him more comforts from home. He looked down onto his pebble beach, he didn't have work today so he decided he'd have a swim. It took a few trials and errors to get the temperature right, but Adrian managed to get it to the perfect temperature; just a little on the cold side. The beaches in the bay area of Northern California weren't exactly warm so he liked to be reminded of home, though lucky the ‘surf’ here wasn't so rough.  

He had been apprehensive about arriving to Erid, for a multitude of reasons. But mainly that Rocky would be too busy to spend much time with Grace. It was stupid really, Rocky had his mate Adrian to come home to and the Erdians needed to find a way to get the Astrophage to Threeworld. He had said as much to Rocky when they were days away from Erid, but Rocky had reassured Grace that figuring out food and shelter for Grace would be a top priority. Erid had a much thicker atmosphere than Earth did so it was not as urgent to find a cure to their apocalypse as it had been on Earth. Still, there had been a separate team working with the Taumeoba and a separate team to work on Grace. They were able to get the Taumeoba to Threeworld without a hitch and Grace only spent a month or so on the Hail Mary until his ‘enclosure’ was ready, the Eridians sure work fast. Cloning his food was easy enough and they were even able to clone his own cells to make “me-burgers” as he called them. And above all, Rocky still visited Grace almost every day. Much to Grace's happiness.  

He was very despondent without his alien friend, probably not in a healthy way. But after all they had been through together it was to be expected. Though, Grace got on well enough with the other Eridians he met, including Adrian. Rocky and Adrian had some ‘pebbles’ as Grace liked to call them not long after they arrived. Seeing tiny Eridians was cute beyond words, Rocky was proud of his little offspring. Plus, Grace loved his students, loved having a classroom again. It was nice having purpose again but not having two whole entire worlds’ survival weighing on his shoulders.  

Because Erid's atmosphere was so thick, spaceships could not take off or re-enter and instead a space elevator of sorts was used. It still boggled his mind thinking about it, he can't imagine such a structure working on Earth. It took a few hours to use and was one of the most nerve-wracking things Grace had ever been on, and he'd done some dangerous spacewalks. Still, it enabled the Eridians to work on the Hail Mary and refuel it and recalibrate it. Only three months into living on Erid did Rocky tell him the Hail Mary would be able to go home to Earth, but that would involve travelling for sixteen years. Besides, there was no way of knowing if Earth had used the Taumeoba to control the Astrophage, being lightyears away the Eridian astrophysicists wouldn't be able to see Sol brighten for another sixteen years from now. Of course because of time dilation, Grace wouldn't experience sixteen years, it would be closer or six or seven, but that was a long time to stay in a coma. And what if the coma went wrong again? Grace theorised that because he was induced early and hooked up to the Hail Mary before leaving Earth's orbit that he was induced properly. With Yao and Ilyukhina inducing themselves... maybe that's where things went wrong. Though Yao clearly died some time before Ilyukhina did...  

He flexed his fingers in discomfort. Thinking about his crewmates demise never got any easier. There was never a doubt in his mind that they wouldn't do what Grace did: save Rocky. Yes, they had families back home, but they were brave and would do the right thing. A pang of guilt washed through Grace as he thought about his initial refusal. He wasn't willing to give up his own life for eight billion people, including you, but he had been willing to do it for Rocky. Sure, there was Erid too... but it was Rocky that drove his decision. His crewmates wouldn't have hesitated to help Erid. What would they have thought of life on Erid? How would they have rationed the food between them on the way here? He winced at the thought, they would have been on the verge of starvation in the three years it would take it get here. He idly wondered if Taumeoba was edible, it was an organic life form that didn't appear to have any toxins. He was lucky it didn't come to that – except lucky wasn't the right word as it meant two of his crewmates had died. Did volunteering to save Rocky and therefore Erid atone him for his sins? Did it undo his refusal to save Earth? Did it make him less selfish?  

Before guilt and anxiety could fester any longer, he made his way down the steps that lead to the beach. It wasn't a particularly ‘sunny’ day, instead it was raining ever so lightly thanks to the sprinkler-esque system Adrian had developed, but that was how Grace liked it. That was how you liked it too. On a day like this he should surely be inside curled up with a book, well, a digital book on his tablet. You had always said rainy days were perfect book reading weather.  

He stripped down to his trunks and before he could sike himself out he got into the water, it was cool enough that it most certainly woke up his senses. He thought about warp speed in Star Trek, about how their warp drive had different levels to it. Each level going fast and faster than the speed of light. Also artificial gravity without the need for centrifuge force. Crazy stuff. Of course, thinking of superluminal speed had his thoughts wandering back to you, back to that smile of yours that crinkled the corners of your eyes. It was a picture though, that was fading. And it alarmed him a great deal. Sure, his brain was still a little mushy from the coma and induced amnesia in some regards, but seven years had passed since he last saw you in person. He replayed your video over and over, enough that he knew exactly what words would come out of your mouth. But still... picturing you... remembering you... It was getting fuzzy at the edges, almost out of focus. He was forgetting what it was like to touch you, to hug you and to kiss you. It broke his heart.  

“Grace?” Came Rocky's sing-song voice. Thankfully, Grace was fluent in Eridian, though of course he replied in English. 

Grace opened his eyes and stopped floating, opting to swim towards Rocky on the beach. “Yeah, Pal?”  

Rocky was standing in his little body suit enclosure and at the edge of the waves. “Why are you swimming in the rain? I thought humans only did that when the weather was clear. Do you want Adrian to change to sunny weather?”  

It was nice in the water, now that his body was used to the temperature, so he opted to stay in just enough to crouch. “No, I'm okay Rocky. Sometimes we swim in the rain, we're getting wet anyway.”  

Rocky made a disapproving noise. “Do not get too cold and get sick. Or I'll be pissed.”  

That made Grace laugh a little. “Don't worry, pal. I won't be out here for much longer.”  

“You should come out now. Do you remember that probe that was in Erid's orbit three months ago?” 

He did in fact remember that. There had been some type of very small spacecraft darting around Erid's orbit, though it hadn't stayed long before it left. It has taken great interest in the Hail Mary, hovering around it for longer than anything else. It seemed to also be also powered by Astrophage, the IR signal the scientists found was unmistakable. That made Grace frown, heart stuttering. “I do. Why?” He got out of the water, grabbing his towel out from his waterproof bag. 

“Well, there is a bigger spaceship in orbit now. They think it is from Earth.” Rocky's voice was stern.  

Grace froze, unable to really process what he just heard. “Wait, wha– what?! A spaceship!?” Blood was rushing through his ears, causing them to ring loudly as his heart thundered in his chest. “From Earth?!”  

Rocky was nervously fidgeting with a handful of pebbles. “Affirmative. Though it looks as if no one is onboard from the echolocation, but markings on the outside are in English. They have not yet opened it.”  

Grace couldn't think straight, couldn't begin to decipher what this meant. An unmanned spaceship from Earth? “Do they want me to look?”  

“Only if you feel that you are able. Your spacesuit is working fine and I can go with you. There will be some scientists who can come too.” Rocky's voice sounded a little worried.  

“What did it say on the outside?” Grace's voice was breathless.  

Rocky paused for a short moment before answering, “There was a diagram of your solar system and the words: Project Prometheus.”  

That made Grace frown deeply, “Prometheus...? The Greek Titan who stole fire?” That puzzled him deeply.  

“Why would they name it after him?” Rocky asked, just as baffled as Grace was.  

“By giving fire to the humans he effectively started civilisation and was punished by the gods for it... he selflessly saved humanity.” If this was a spaceship sent to bring him home... he didn't dare have too much hope on the thought. But the name didn't make sense to Grace, he didn't volunteer. They had to give him short-term amnesia to make sure he wouldn't sabotage the mission. Though, he knew he wouldn't have been able to do that. But then there was Rocky and Erid – he had risked his life to save them too. “Prometheus was later saved by Herakles.” He remembers you vividly complaining about the use of ‘Hercules’ instead of ‘Herakles’ in Greek mythological films. 

Give yourself grace – Dr. Grace, your voice rushed through his mind. He felt as if he was going to collapse.  

Authors note: Sorry for the shorter chapter, the next one will be much longer (eek!). Also the whole things with the Beetles was a circumvention, we can't wait 11 years for them to get to Earth lmao Tags (lmk if you want to be added): @shittyprofilebutfuckit

“He’s set to be an independent operative, but know he is working for and with us.” The colonel’s words then officially etch the truth in stone.

Mando comes around basecamp like a ghost. Barely staying put for you to register his presence, yet the whispers about him grow.

“I heard he took out a whole imperial squadron and a Moff too.” Dyana, your closest friend, tells you enthusiastic to catch up on all the rumors.

Then Ward calls for you, and you miss out on any other gossip Dyana and the others had.

“I’ll be heading to Coruscant this week to meet with a few higher ups and senators… I need you to do all the debriefs with Mando while I’m away.

It’s like a rancor suddenly barreled into you.

“Wait, me?” You stupidly question confused, and Ward shoots you a look, raised eyebrows and all.

“Do you think you’re not capable of handling this, ranger?”

“No, colonel.” You quickly reply, and she nods.

“Good, that’s what I thought.”

When you see her off, it must be obvious how hesitant you still are. Her sturdy hand gives your shoulder a reassuring pat.

“Don’t worry. He’s not as scary as everyone thinks he is.” Ward reassures, but it doesn’t soothe you much.

Especially when the day arrives and you find yourself waiting for him.

Just like before, the mandalorian saunters in and your focus is immediately drawn to him. But then, it gets knocked out of orbit when you find he’s not alone.

A tiny green creature waddles in beside him, childishly blinking at every sight. Why is a child with the mandalorian?

“Where’s Ward?” A rich striking voice startles you. Of course the terrifying warrior would sound this intimidating.

“Went to Coruscant for a meeting.” You reply partly stunned you’re actually talking to him.

“And you are?” But then mandalorian questions, sharp and distrustful, and it pisses you off. He’s the newcomer here, and he decides to question you?

“I’m the person you’re stuck with for your debrief and mission logs unfortunately.” Your voice whips out sharp.

He doesn’t say anything.

“What about Teva?” He counters again, and you want to scream. What’s this guy’s problem?

“Out on a mission,” your reply is sharper, bladed with annoyance.

“If you want you can personally contact Ward and explain why I’m not satisfactory enough for your debrief. I’m sure she’d love that.” Then the defiant reply escapes you faster than you can stop it.

It’s as if the whole cantina mess hall heard you because it becomes deathly silent.

The mandalorian simply stares you down with his unflinching helmet. Then the warrior turns and strides out not saying another word.

“I think you pissed him off.” Wolf snickers breaking the stillness.

A sense of dread looms as you realize you might’ve truly just gotten yourself into a mountain load of trouble.

Ward calls that night, and you knew it was coming.

“Why do you want to start a fight with the mandalorian?” She asks calmly over the comms.

“I’m not! He started it!” You can’t help but childishly counter. You even further explain how demanding and untrusting he was.

The colonel sighs.

“You have to understand… His people don’t trust easily. And for good reason. Try to be the one to play nice here.”

You want to be petty and say he needs to as well, but you can’t argue with Ward.

“Do the whole debrief drunk.” Zeb jokes about it with you the next day, and you scoff.

But by the time sunset arrives you start getting tempted to get a drink because maybe Mando isn’t showing up.

Until he does. And again he’s not alone. The strange but sweet little creature continues waddling alongside Mando.

It’s awkward as hell when he approaches your table. The tension lingers thick from yesterday prickling across your skin in the worst way.

You don’t even know if you should say anything

“Mweh?” A surprisingly soft little noise floats through the tension and you turn towards it. You blink down to find the mysterious little being staring up at you with sweet wide eyes.

With curious claws, the baby reaches for the loth cat charm dangling off your belt, the one of many trinkets your niece has given you.

Melted by the sight, you grin and scoot closer. Then you unclasp the charm for the baby to examine it more.

“You like it? It’s cute right?”

The little one agrees with a chirp sounding so endearing.

Something softly clicks. If a creature so tiny and innocent as this baby confidently travels with the mandalorian, then he couldn't be that much of an ass.

Someone sighs. Then settling back into your seat, you find the mandalorian seated across from you. The baby hops up to sit beside him. Yet his eager eyes remain happily taken with your charm.

“That imp base on Hoth had no leads.” He speaks first.

You’re stunned.

Your gut urges you to not make a big deal about this, to simply now see him as another coworker.

So you nod and casually plug in the info on your datapad.

“Hoth was a long shot, but we appreciate you going.” You even add that in.

You knew of a few pilots who served during the Hoth raid. It’s an unforgiving planet, takes a lot of guts to investigate that icy fortress.

“What’s the next order?” Mando asks firm, all business, just like Ward had told you.

You slide him a bounty chip containing info on a possible military officer who could be running a smuggling ring. The mandalorian doesn’t say anything else, simply takes the card and stands up.

“Come on, kid.” All he does is address the baby, not even sparing you a second glance.

Cute and so politely, the kid hands back your loth cat with a noise that feels like a thank you.

“You’re welcome, little cutie,” you tell him warmly.

Once the pair are out of sight, you sigh exhausted, relieved, and sprawl out on the table glad it’s over. Someone barks a laugh, and you aren’t even embarrassed about it.

You can’t wait till this is over.

It’s already been a week and a half of being grounded doing these debriefs with Mando. You miss being in the skies. But all that hope of getting back in the clouds gets squashed.

“I need to negotiate a few more issues with Senator Organa… can you continue to do the debrief?” It isn’t much of a question but more of an order from Ward.

So you meet with Mando for the rest of the week and into the next. It’s cordial, barely speaking for more than ten minutes with each other.

You try to be friendly, make a joke about the weather, but he just silently stares at you, obviously annoyed.

And it pisses you off all over again.

But you think of the adorable little baby who eagerly tags along with the terrifying hunter. The kid sweetly waves, and you wave back. You started bringing treats after his guardian chided him for eating some of yours.

The annoyed sigh Mando gave when you brought more snacks to share was worth it.

This time you decided to bring something else along with you.

It was the first charm your sister gave you when you became a pilot. A tradition her daughter, your niece, now does with you.

“Look!” You eagerly hold up the plush creature that makes the baby’s eyes go wide.

With adorable tiny grabby hands, he reaches for it and you happily hand it over.

You grin pleased seeing how pleased the kid coos.

“What’s your name?” The sudden question from Mando surprises you.

A bit stunned, you give it to him.

He nods solemnly, repeating it. Your heart does a strange flip hearing his deep voice say your name.

“This is Grogu.” He then introduces the kid who chimes in hearing his name.

“Nice to meet you, Grogu.” You excitedly greet the kid.

Then you turn to Grogu’s guardian. This solemn but striking mandalorian now has you curious to who he is. Your mind thinks about the rumors that have spread about him.

“And you? What’s your name?” You ask politely, but immediately you can almost hear Dyana screaming at you. She’s become the new expert on Mandalorian customs.

“They’re private people,” she had told you, confirming what Ward had said. “It’s probably why not a lot of people know about him, much less his name.”

“I’m sorry, forgive me.” You stammer quickly. “You don’t have to give it.”

A moment passes, and you worry you’ve unraveled this tentative truce or whatever it is.

“Din… Din Djarin.” His full name. It’s lovely.

“Din…” you repeat it.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” And you mean that.

Mando, Din, nods, and you think it’s worth the few weeks being out of the skies.

When Din and Grogu leave you realize the kid still holds onto your plush charm.

“Come on kid, give it back.” Din urges noticing too.

“No it’s okay. He can keep it. Give it back to me next time.” You grin at the baby, and Grogu giggles pleased at the answer.

“What do you say, kid?”

Grogu chirps a sweet thanks and waddles away content with the plushie in his arms.

The next day, as promised, he brings it back. But you exchange another charm with him. This time it’s a cute cloud with a sweet face. Eager for the new trinket, Grogu ditches the plushie and you laugh.

Work then follows suit. Din explains on the intel he’s slowly gaining on the imp official.

“Taking a bit longer than expected.” Din gruffly admits.

“Don’t worry. Rodents like him know how to hide. It’s not your fault. Then again that’s probably an insult to rodents.” You’ve been trying to stay professional, channel your inner composed Colonel Ward. But the old rebel pilot comes out.

Suddenly, a chuckle follows.

Din laughed.

You swear you misheard it. But the way Grogu giggles agreeing with his protector, you know you heard correctly.

“A fair statement.” Din agrees.

And you grin back at him. A golden victorious feeling bubbles in your chest.

Watching the pair leave, you find you’re excited to see them again.

The rest of the debriefs go smoother than ever. You bring new charms for Grogu to play with, and Din seems to settle in more.

“You have a lot of those.” He even comments a bit dry when you exchange another new charm with Grogu. This time it’s a fuzzy bantha.

“Managed to gather a small collection.” You explain.

“Really… couldn’t tell.” Din deadpans.

That’s when you realized he just joked with you.

“Think you might like those two,” Zeb teases the next time he drops by the mess hall.

“It’s called being civil.” You stubbornly reply while messing with the holopad, and the Lasat warrior barks a laugh.

“Civil? Yeah sure.” He teases further.

You stay stubbornly quiet.

“Don’t worry… They’re a pain in my ass too.” Zeb huffs, and it does soothe your annoyance.

Especially now that something is festered in you, a sort of curious itch to learn more about Din Djarin.

“I heard… he really did blow up an entire imperial base. That’s how Teva found him.” Dyana is happy to spill more gossip about him.

“He’s quiet, doesn’t talk much. So I doubt he’d say anything even if he did.” You mutter.

“Does he really keep a pet around?” Dyana presses for any new info.

The word ‘pet’ sounds harsh.

“He’s more like the kid’s guardian.” The word ‘parent’ instead wants to slip out especially after you’ve seen Din’s fatherly watch over the baby.

“Oh that’s even more interesting! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?!” Dyana shrieks.

“You’ve been busy.” You half lie.

You could argue that it’s because you want to protect Din’s trust and don’t want to disturb that. But the truth is, you don’t want to share this little secret bond you’ve cultivated with him.

You however rapidly kick those thoughts away.

Ward will be back sometime this week. Your brief time with the Mandalorian would be over soon.

Except that time comes sooner than expected.

The next morning Colonel Ward arrives, an early return. Disappointment arrives just as fast. You knew this was only a temporary thing.

Trying not to feel annoyed, you now work on your x-wing. Deep under the hull, you refuel trying just to keep your mind focused here.

“Didn’t know you were a mechanic.” Suddenly, the rich voice of a certain mandalorian echoes in the hanger.

You scramble out from under the ship confused if you heard right.

But standing off to the side are indeed Din and Grogu.

“What? Thought I just did paper work and worked as an assistant?” You tease.

Din chuckles, and it sinks into the glowing sunlight coating the hanger in its glory.

“You’re looking at one of the New Republic’s best pilots!” Dyana.

She perks up emerging from the other side of the ship, and you shoot a glare her way not even knowing where she came from.

“A pilot?” Din questions, curious.

His helmet tilts towards you.

“Sometimes,” you shrug.

“And I wouldn’t say best.” You weakly laugh then glower at Dyana again. She simply beams innocently back at you.

“One day you gotta tell him about Endor. Though I’m sure you have plenty of fight stories to share too, Mando!”

You want to strangle her.

“You fought at Endor?” Din asks, helmet fully facing you and voice faintly awed.

It all makes your skin feel heated and tight.

All you can do is shrug again.

Endor seems like so long ago now. You were so much younger then. Wild and ready to sacrifice it all for the sake of protecting everything you loved. A small secret corner of your heart aches for those days of when you flew with such fire.

“Well… gotta go! Nice to finally meet you both!” Dyana nods to Din and smiles at the baby before scurrying away.

A traitor in the flesh fleeing if you ever did see one.

“So…an x-wing pilot.” Din comments, still watching you. His curious and impressed tone ignites a strange sensation in your chest that threatens to consume you.

“On good days I am.” You again shrug with a half smile.

“So what was Endor like?” He inquires, and you’re surprised he’s curious about that.

“Don’t know, never went on planet… kinda was busy flying around.”

You don’t even need to see his face to know he’s giving you a silent unamused stare. He must not think your joke is as funny as you do.

A surprised giggle does come though. Both you and Din discover Grogu effortlessly climbing up onto the wing of the ship.

“Kid.” Din chides.

“How did you get up there so fast?” You laugh amused at the sight of this tiny creature waddling on top of your x-wing.

Din sighs, truly parental.

“I take it that you fly?” You ask him yet keeping your gaze on Grogu to make sure he stays safe.

“I do.” Din answers, confident.

“Must be why he’s so curious and comfortable around ships. It’s good when kids get to experience being in the air.” You think of your niece who eagerly tries to convince you to fly her around.

“My niece is the same way.” You reveal.

Din hums a noise, acknowledging he’s listening.

“Is she the reason why you have all those charms?” He asks in a tone softer than you’ve ever heard.

“Excuse you, they are medals of honor.” You jokingly try to sound offended.

“With you I wouldn’t be surprised.” He replies deadpan, and you snicker.

“But yeah… she’s the one who gives them to me.” You explain how it was your sister who first started giving you those charms to decorate your x-wing.

They were to remind you to come home safe.

“I was ordered not to come home unless I brought the charms back safe and sound.” You repeat the same words your sister told you.

A soft breeze enters the hanger bringing in a welcoming cooling touch. But it’s then you realize how close you’re now standing next to Din. You didn’t even notice when you or him moved closer to each other.

“That’s… sweet.” His voice carries a tenderness that sneaks under your ribs and sinks in deep.

You turn and find he’s already looking at you.

Under Din’s gaze, it’s like you’re caught in a tractor beam unable to speak or move.

Dangerous thoughts have already begun clouding your mind, and they all connect back to this man. Like how you’ve noticed how broad his shoulders look, and how strong he is helping move crates around the base. What’s worse is you’ve begun wondering what this mandalorian looks like under his helm.

Grogu’s little giggle finally draws your attention away. Currently he peeks inside the cockpit through the window.

“So I take it this is your ship?” Din asks.

“No, I stole it.” You quip back.

“Sure you did.” His dry reply makes you snicker.

“It’s how I got to fight at Endor.” You jest, stealing a quick glance at Din. Of course he shakes his head unamused.

“Thought you didn’t see Endor.” He uses your dry joke back at you, and you can’t help it.

You playfully elbow him.

Another little giggle comes. Glancing back to the ship, Grogu now peers over from the wing’s edge grinning at you and Din.

“Little troublemaker, are you going to be a pilot one day?” You smile at Grogu.

“Mweh!” He squeals.

“I think that’s a yes,” you tell Din proudly.

“No.” Din answers back firmly.

“It’s okay I’ll teach you one day,” you counter sweetly, and the baby giggles more.

“No.” Din repeats again firmer.

A small cluster of pilots approach. Their laughter and conversation fill the air. Guess this moment is over.

“Still need to see Ward… shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Din is smooth about making his exit.

Quickly Grogu jumps into his arms, and you bid the duo goodbye for now.

You haven’t been in the air for long, but it feels like you’re floating now.

The moments you see the pair become like scattered stars.

Months settle in, and a routine follows. You sometimes see Din in the mess hall cantina when you return from a mission. Discussing with the colonel, all you can simply do is give your boys quick smiles.

Other times Din stops by the hanger where you linger now more than ever hoping he drops by. You and him talk about work, missions, the various planets visited.

You want to ask what got him to work for the new republic, but you don’t want to disturb whatever is growing between you and him.

“It’s budding love.” Dyana sagely declares one evening at the cantina, and Zeb agrees.

“It’s not!” You screech over a drink.

“I don’t think Mando has said more than five words to me, yet I see him talking to you so much.” Another pilot chimes in.

“He talks to Zeb the most!” You argue back. The two of them are often paired up on missions now. You try not to get annoyed by it.

“Not as much as you, kid.” Zeb rebuttals.

“Don’t think we haven’t seen the way he hangs around the hanger for you.” Sash Ketter snickers, and it only ignites the discussion once again.

You dismiss all their words as attempts trying to rile you up.

Because you don’t want to face the truth. You long for your chats with Din, even just to see him for a moment and play with Grogu.

It’s just an awful infatuation. That’s it.

Your small vacation break now approaching may be more of a blessing than you realize. It’ll hopefully give you time to clear your head.

“I’m heading home to visit family. I’ll be sure to bring back something good.” You tell Din the next time you run into him outside the cantina.

“There’s no need. Just… be safe.” Din nods.

His gentle words carry you the entire flight home.

The brief week away provides peaceful moments of relaxation. While you enjoy the time spent with your sister’s family, you long to return to Adelphi.

“So, what did you get me this time?” You ask your niece the day before you’re set to head back.

“I got you… THIS!” She proudly raises up an odd creature. You can’t even tell what it is.

“She made it herself.” Your sister whispers, and your eyes go wide.

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me we have an artist in this family now?!” You cry excitedly scooping up your niece in your arms and tickle her with glee as she squeaks excitedly.

“Actually before I go… Do you think you can help me make one too?” You ask her and your niece's eyes light up.

With eager hands she gathers all her supplies to deposit them on the table ready to craft.

“So… are you going to tell me who you’re making this for?” Your sister asks slightly suspiciously as you add little puffballs to your monster creation.

“What if I just want my charm to have a friend, huh?” You deflect.

“Yeah sure.” She’s not convinced but thankfully doesn’t press any further.

As hard as it is saying goodbye to her and your niece, you’re thankful to finally be back to your routine.

And of course, the new little charm sitting in your pocket seems to hold so much weight.

Din returns a few days after you. It’s hard trying to ignore the bubbling joy that rises watching him approach your x-wing first.

“Welcome back.” He greets and Grogu squeals adorably scurrying to you.

Eagerly you welcome his jump into your arms, and you squeeze him tight.

“I miss you too,” you tell Grogu but hope his father knows you mean him as well.

“And look, I got something for you.” You shift to hold Grogu in one arm.

Then you hold up the new charm.

“What is it supposed to be?” Din sounds confused and slightly alarmed.

“It’s a little monster,” you reply lightly insulted.

“My niece and I made these, and I knew someone who might like it.” You grin towards Grogu now.

“Bweh!” He cheers and draws the charm into his small arms so enamored with the strange monstrosity already.

“See! He likes it, that's what matters.” You huff proudly at Din.

Grogu chirps like he agrees. You laugh then catch Din’s chuckle too.

“What do you say, kid?” Din says.

Grogu however doesn’t say anything. Instead he leans up and hugs you. His sweet little arms curl against your neck.

Holding this baby so tight is like holding a little newborn star. You’re grateful for this moment and hug Grogu close, closing your eyes to fully embrace this wonderful tiny soul.

“You’re welcome, little troublemaker.” You softly tell him.

The baby then settles into your arms as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Worried you might have overstepped, you quickly snap your attention to Din. His helmet stays focused on you.

You wonder what his eyes look like, what color swims within his gaze.

“Glad you’re back safe.” Din’s voice sounds low, softer and a bit thick.

“Me too,” you reply, letting yourself sink into whatever it is overtaking your entire heart.

This infatuation, or whatever it’s mutated into, grows stronger. And it terrifies you.

But you’re reminded quickly there are more terrifying things to face.

The wound isn’t looking good.

You’re more pissed at yourself for getting ambushed by damn pirates. This operation was supposed to be simple, check in on the distress signal intercepted by base. But one pirate ambush later and you’re now stranded trying to stop the bleeding.

You just hope the emergency signal you sent back to camp went through. Leaning against your ship, you take a deep breath trying to calm yourself down. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Until something pierces your back, and a scream of pain escapes you. Electricity courses through your body knocking you to the ground.

Everything stings. You can barely concentrate, but you hear them. Gleeful disgusting laughs swirling all around. The damn pirates…

“Think of the price we’ll get for x-wing parts!” One of them muses.

“Or even for the pilot, quite a cute one.” That comment unleashes a panicked feral terror.

Get up, you have to get up. Even though every part of your body stings, screaming to stay still, you have to move.

You slowly try to sit up through the aftershocks, but then a boot comes to slowly step on your chest, pressing you down to the dirt.

“Nah uh little pilot, where do ya think you’re going.” A voice snickers.

You clench your jaw hard. This isn’t looking good.

A sudden blaster shot fires and immediately takes out a pirate with accurate precision.

“What was that?!” One of them screams.

Then a blaster shot silenced him.

“Step away from her now.” Din.

Or someone sounding like him.

The voice is deadly, terrifying, and you wonder if it even is Din.

Then the pirate towering above you with his boot still pressing on your chest suddenly gets thrown off.

Weakly you cough sitting up. While you do, you witness Din in action and realize he’s truly here.

And the way he attacks, effortlessly slicing through the pirate captain and the lackeys that try rushing him - he’s incredible.

You’ve never seen anyone fight so fluidly and powerful. You’re witnessing one of the most powerful warriors in the galaxy…

And he’s here to save you.

A small concerned whimper comes to your side and immediately you glance down. Grogu quickly waddles to your arm and flashes his wide worried eyes up to you.

“I’m okay, I promise.” He must see the wound, and you try smiling reassuringly.

He hums a small noise at you. Then he closes his eyes, laying his little claw against your elbow. Slowly a gentle warmth suddenly crawls up your shoulder.

What is he doing?

The stinging pain vanishes instantly. Reaching up to your shoulder, you find no wound.

“Mweh.” Grogu peers up at you with a small little wave.

“You really are something else, little trouble maker… thank you.” You fondly stroke his fuzzy little head, and he beams.

Din urgently yells your name and soon rushes to kneel before you. Gloved hands reach out to steady your shoulders.

“I’m fine.” You now reassure him and move to squeeze one of his hands.

An exhale escapes Din, relieved.

“I’m sorry you both had to come all the way out here. I’m sure there are better bounties to hunt.” You half tease.

“Don’t apologize.” He immediately snaps.

Grogu makes a sad noise as if chiding his father.

“Just glad you’re safe.” So Din gently adds and steadily helps you stand.

Zeb lands moments later with a mechanic to help patch up your ship. The entire time Din stays by your side, letting you lean against him for support. His guiding hand never leaves you.

You’re given the rest of the week off to recover.

“So was Mando on a mission with you when my distress beacon went out?” You ask Zeb when he drops by to check on you.

He snorts, giving you a knowing side eye smirk.

“Is that what you think?” Zeb doesn’t elaborate even when you pester him.

It’s Dyana of course who reveals the truth.

“Mando was the first to rush out. Ward had to practically stop him before he flew off on his own.” Her words unravel something effortlessly in you.

How can you ignore these feelings for a mandalorian anymore?

“I think it’s romantic.” Dyana thankfully doesn’t judge you when you finally admit everything to her.

There was no time for romance during a rebellion, during a war. Even now you almost scoff at the idea. There are other things to do, other things to focus on than get lovesick over someone.

But Din dismantled all those old thoughts in you, leaving you exposed and almost greedy for someone now.

“It’s okay to want that you know… romance and companionship.” Dyana tells you already sensing your hesitation.

You know her and a cute mechanic have been dating off and on for a while. She’s always been urging you to get out more, maybe try to find someone. Guess you just had to wait for a mandalorian to show up.

But you have to put all those giggles and feelings aside.

Your time resting is done, and immediately you’re thrown back into the rush of work.

A mission and orders arrive a few days later on your datapad.

Raid strike this week, get ready

It’s not a full strike squadron, but you’re thankful Zeb is tagging along.

“Think your boyfriend might be joining us.” He teases, and your eyes narrow hard. Now you regret him being here.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You rapidly dismiss.

“Huh uh.” He rolls his eyes.

As if summoned to add to your pain, Din enters the command center. It feels like feral lizard birds were released in your stomach.

Immediately his helmet spots you. Grogu perched on his shoulder chirps upon seeing you. Trying to act relaxed, you give the boys a casual wave and bright grin.

Zeb chuckles, and you silently shush him again under your breath. You walk to meet Din halfway.

“Glad you’re doing better.” He says, faintly warm, and you nod grateful.

“Thanks to my two heroes,” you thank them both again. Grogu beams toothy when you tickle his chin.

Din doesn’t say anything.

“Guess we’re finally teaming up.” So you speak up first.

“Seems like it,” Din agrees.

This isn’t the first time he’s seen you in your pilot gear. Hell, he just rescued you last week. But for some reason, you feel more self aware than ever.

Thankfully Ward enters, drawing the room’s attention to her.

The mission is to ambush the warlord now barricaded up in his mansion. He’s apparently greatly armed and even hired a small air brigade. It’s why this strike squadron was called in. You’re curious why Din is here though.

“Without the mandalorian’s intel, we wouldn’t have this opportunity. So we will be following his lead.” She sends her focus to him.

Din simply and silently nods back.

Then he moves to the holo map and gives details about the estate. Hearing how commanding and surefire his voice resounds, the way he walks confidently and without any hesitation, he’s incredible.

But there’s no time to linger on this warrior.

It’s time to fly.

“Finally get to see you in action,” you tell Din as he walks out with you.

“Guess you will.” He replies with a hint of something playful, and it only speeds up your racing heart.

All you can do is laugh before parting ways.

“Don’t get lost in the clouds.” You teasingly yell to the mandalorian and he looks back at you from over his shoulder.

You can’t see Din’s eyes, but you hope they’re amused.

Him and Grogu now trail away from where you’re stationed, and you settle into your ship.

Your x-wing roars alive, and the familiar comms flicker in your ear. Then the call signals electrify the start to battle.

“Delphi squadron, lock in.” Teva announces on the main channel, the leader for this run. Everyone follows suit locking in their coordinates.

“Blue 9, standing by.” You chime in, readying the flight path.

“Starfighter, standing by.” Then a new voice floats through your helmet.

The tone resonates rich as a stormy ocean sending a shock through your system.

Hearing Din in your helmet does something to you so wild that you feel guilty at how fast your core clenched. You recollect yourself fast.

That’s when you notice the ship he joined in with.

A starfighter? There’s no way. Those ships don’t exist.

But again, you’re proven so wrong.

Among the gunfire and smoke, the sounds of battle, a new gleam of silver catches your attention. The Naboo N-1 fighter is a marvel.

A sleek whisper of a dream, one minute she’s a simple flicker of light then the next she’s firing directly in the trenches of the fight.

But as in awe of the ship as you are, it’s the mandalorian who leaves you breathless.

Din flies amazing. The fast maneuvering, the excellent read he makes of the battle, among his readiness to swoop in and out of tight spaces - you’ve never seen anyone fly this beautifully.

It inspires you, the type of flying that makes you want to soar higher to catch up.

So you do.

You embrace the rebel pilot you always might be and dive through the canyons chasing after one of the bandits the warlord hired.

Quickly you dispatch the enemy ship then swirl and maneuver your x-wing to return to the open sky.

“Target on your left.” Din’s voice suddenly thunders in your ear, chiming in on your personal channel.

“Got it.” You reply steady and twist fast enough to fire on the swing mid air.

“Got him, great shot!” Listening to Din’s deep fierce voice over your private channel, his voice colored in pride, you have to mute the channel to exhale.

Because a wave of arousal crawled up your spine so fast you had to bite your lip. Now you try settling yourself down again.

You pride yourself on being composed when you fly. There of course have been times when you’ve gotten emotional and maybe reacted.

Yet here this masked man completely disarms you.

It’s a fight you realize you won’t win.

The raid is successful, and the warlord gets taken in alive. That’s the win that matters.

“Great job,” Din suddenly voices back in your comms, still sounding so proud, and you melt all over again.

“You too, thanks for the support,” you answer back, just as fond, then rapidly switch over the channel.

“Captain,” you ask Teva on his personal comms.

“Before we leave, do you think I can test Mando on how he flies?”

Teva takes a moment then sighs.

“Make it quick.”

Giddy you quickly chime back onto Din’s channel.

“Wanna go for a run?” A part of you worries he won’t want to join you.

“Lead the way.” But Din quickly answers, and you pull back up to the clouds.

The planet is rather gorgeous, full of lush canyons and towering mountains. It’s a flight playground. Among the skies, twisting and twirling down through the natural landscape, you and Din soar around each other, with each.

Playful, yet delicately cautious, your x-wing revolves alongside his starfighter. Din keeps up with you every moment. Quietly the image of a dance among the clouds floats into your mind.

“Up for a race?” He suddenly asks.

“Oh, you know it.” You agree, excited. You settle into your seat, ready to take off.

But in a flash, he zooms past you.

“What the hell?!” You shriek over the comms.

Din’s husky laugh in your ear is a beautiful reward.

Returning back to Adelphi, you and him fly beside each other. Ward gives everyone the night off, and the cantina already seems to shine extra bright landing in.

Settling into your spot in the hanger, you notice Din lands his starfighter closer than ever.

Sliding off your helmet, for a moment you worry about how bad your hair looks, how messy and sweaty you must be.

But heading down the ladder, Din already walks towards you.

All your worries vanish. You don’t even care how fast you walk towards him. Here standing before Din under the low lights of the hanger, the world melts away.

“You were incredible.”

“You flew… amazing.”

Both you and Din speak at the same time, words jumbling up and getting tangled. It startles you, even his shoulders stiffen a bit.

Then you laugh.

“No, you were the incredible one.” You tell him first.

“Not compared to you,” he shakes his head.

“Glad I finally got to see one of the Rebellion’s and New Republic’s best pilots in action.” There’s a smirk in his voice, and heat burns through your veins.

Any words you want to say, he’s stolen them right from you. All you’re reduced to is a love struck fool caught in the orbit of this powerful mandalorian.

Din doesn’t say anything either. It’s like you and him can’t look away from the other standing this close.

“Hey! Ya two love birds gonna join us or what?” Zeb suddenly breaks the spell, and your blood instantly boils.

You hiss foul curses at Zeb, and he only cackles with laughter.

Embarrassed and trying to escape this moment you shake your head heading towards the exit.

“Come on, let’s go celebrate.” You manage to smile at Din hoping to dispel any comments about what Zeb said.

The mandalorian follows you into the mess hall cantina. The lively celebratory air glimmers with joyous laughter. It’s a welcoming atmosphere, and even Wolf along with a few other pilots ask Din to join them.

“Maybe in a bit,” He nods, instead staying by your side when you approach the bar.

“No pressure, but drinks on me if you want.” You offer.

“I’ll pass, but thanks.” He instead places down credits for your drink, and you thank him with a toast.

“Come on, let’s see how good of a sabacc player you are.” After taking a huge sip, you allow the alcohol to sting in the best way.

“Think you might be dissapointed,” Din chuckles.

Of course he’s a damn natural.

Everyone at the table cries in frustration when he wins the second round, and you even narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, so you’re a liar.” You joke good naturedly.

“Never said I was good or bad.” He answers and it’s rather coy, lighter than what you’ve heard from him.

“Next time Mando I want you comin’ with me off planet! We could really win big.” Someone suggests and now it’s comforting seeing how much everyone has warmed up to him, how much Din has settled in here too.

Until you realize the baby is missing and immediately turn to Din. Maybe it’s the atmosphere but you lean closer to him placing your hand against his arm.

“Wait, where’s Grogu?” You ask concerned and low.

Din leans closer to you, his helmet almost grazing your face.

“Don’t worry, he’s asleep in the barracks.” Din’s answer comes low, reassuring.

Then he reaches up to lay his hand on top of yours. It’s a reassuring hold, a soft touch that brings comfort.

You exhale relieved and don’t have time to realize what he just did until someone drags Din away to play darts.

He squeezed your hand, and you now fight against a dumb smile just thinking about it.

Even after another round of getting your ass kicked at cards, you don’t care. You glance over to Din.

A cluster of pilots surround him. You’re not surprised. He’s a marvel, someone truly remarkable. But one of the prettier pilots slides up next to Din, batting her eyelashes so dreamily up at him.

Something fierce, venomous and coated in jealousy, strikes.

Reaching to Wolf, you nudge his shoulder a few times, and he knowingly looks at you. Not saying anything, he discreetly slips you a smoke stick.

You head out of the cantina into the soft warm night and light up. The smoke in your lungs settles you down for a moment and cuts through the alcohol.

Dumb Mandalorian man making you feel this way…

Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you watch the smoke you exhale mix into the air.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” Din.

His voice melts into the night like he stepped out of the shadows themselves. As he wanders towards you, you shift to lean against the rail of the patio.

“Not often,” you truthfully answer. It’s been a long time since you lit up.

A bad habit you picked up during your rebellion days, being as young as you were around seasoned veteran pilots. It became a way to calm yourself down and stop your hands from shaking from the nerves.

You even tell him that.

“What made you join?” He asks, tentative and quiet.

A loaded question but one you feel comfortable enough to answer, especially with him.

The empire took so much from you. You’re grateful you and your sister managed to keep each other safe, look out for each other. You weren’t lying when you joked about stealing ships. Learning to steal is how you survived for a while as a kid.

Then you accidentally stole from a man named Luthen Rael, and your life changed. Whatever he saw in your eyes that day when he caught you… it kept you alive.

He’s the one who helped get your wings, got you in touch with rebellion once you could fly. Once you joined, you never saw him again.

“Never looked back since.” You tell this all to Din.

You don’t regret your choices. They’re what brought you here after all, kept you safe even during the danger.

“You did what you had to… you should be proud of the life you’ve made. Of the wars you've fought and survived.” Din sincerely commends you, and his words settle deep in your heart.

You softly thank him, appreciating the sentiment.

“And you? What brought you to the New Republic?” Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you finally decide to ask.

This time he’s sighing and moves to lean against the rail beside you. He’s pressed up right beside you.

“Benn a long way to get here as well.” He’s vague, but explains how he was, and still is a bounty hunter by trade. How that path led him to the kid. How Grogu is by Mandalorian creed his son and apprentice now.

“I couldn't keep getting involved with pirates, working for gangsters. It’s not the life I wanted anymore.”

It’s admirable seeing how valiant Din’s spirit shines, yet you hear how weary his soul must be like he carries so much guilt.

“There are wars you’ve fought too, Din. You should be proud of your victories. Even the ones you don’t think you should be.” Maybe it’s the fading alcohol and slow numbness of the smoke stick, but you want more than ever to just hold him.

You go to take another drag to stop yourself from doing anything reckless, but find your smoke stick is burnt to its final end.

“I don’t.. deserve such kind words. But thank you.” Din’s voice is thick, tangled in thorny emotions.

Yet underneath it all, he sounds softer and raw, like a man trying to find comfort in your words.

So you turn and see his striking dark T visor gaze on you.

A moment passes where it’s just you and him under the night sky, staring at each other.

“No matter what path you took, I'm glad you’re here.” You earnestly tell him.

In such a short amount of time this mandalorian has reawakened something in you and takes up such a large part of your heart.

“Me too.” Din mutters, nodding.

Another x-wing lands outside steals your attention away as the engines break the quiet night air.

“Always been curious to how they fly.” Din suddenly comments sounding intrigued.

“You wanna see?”

He turns to you, helmet tilted incredulous and challenging.

“Come on,” so you challenge him back with a toothy grin.

Immediately Din follows behind you, footsteps quick yet terrifying agile.

The hanger sits in eerie stillness this time of night.

“Should we even be here?” Din asks low, a bit cautious.

“Didn’t take you as a ‘by the books’ guy, Mando.” You use the common name everyone calls him as a tease.

“Only when it comes to my employer.” He replies unamused.

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.” You wave him off and he continues following you further into the dark hanger.

He doesn’t know it, but this place, especially for pilots, is an infamous makeout spot. You try not to think about that too much.

There you arrive at your x-wing.

“Hop in,” you nudge him towards the ladder.

“What?” Din sounding so boyish and confused makes you laugh.

“Get in,” you urge.

Sighing defeated he climbs up the ladder to the cockpit and you follow. You look away trying not to stare at his cute ass.

“Can we even fit in this?”

“X-wings are capable of holding various types and sizes of pilots. We are not the empire, thank you very much,” you proudly declare.

The hatch opens, and Din jumps in. The dashboard and control panel light up as he takes a seat in your chair.

Your throat goes dry seeing him sit in the same pilot seat you fly in.

“Throttle, control stick,” he points out immediately.

As much room as you have, it is cramped standing up. So you curl to the side, closer to him, but keep your eyes on the control monitor.

“It’s got a good radar system.” Din comments admiring the monitor too.

You rattle on about how these are the upgraded models everyone got after the war. The original ones you used during the rebellion are classic, but the upgrades were warmly welcomed.

“Sorry, this all must sound boring.” You weakly laugh.

“It’s not. Tell me more.” He reassures.

You’re about to until you hear commotion around the hanger.

So, quickly you scramble up and around to slide into the seat -

Right between the V of Din’s legs.

You crouch low and drag him down too.

“Wh…what are you-”

“Shh…” you shush him. “Have to lie low just in case.”

“So we should leave.” Din urges urgent.

“We’re fine.” You reassure him now.

The commotion you thought you heard passes by, and silence returns.

You exhale a bit relieved, moving to sit up. Then you grin at him from over your shoulder.

“See… told you we’d be fine.”

He stays quiet.

It hits you. Maybe you upset him or crossed a line being this close. Though you aren’t fully pressed up against his chest, the position is still intimate. You’re literally between his legs.

You want to apologize, especially now that the courage fades away fast.

But all you can think about is how stunning Din is, how gorgeous he looks here in your ship.

“One day you should fly it.” You truthfully blurt out while staring at him.

“Don’t think Ward would let me.” He stiffly replies.

“I would.” You immediately counter.

“Plus you look good in here...” Then you realize what you just admitted.

So you try to recover fast.

“Knowing your skills, if you had been with us during the rebellion days, you would’ve fit in just fine. Probably would’ve even been half as good as me.” You add hastily, half joking, hoping he doesn’t linger on anything you said before.

You now glance away to check out the window. The hanger is thankfully still empty.

Then Din suddenly softly breathes your name.

You’ve never heard it sound so holy and raw that it rips you wide open. You completely shift around to glance at him in the lowly light cockpit.

“How inebriated are you?” He asks husky, thick.

“I could recite the entire radar flight plan chart we made for Endor.” You tell him completely wide awake now. Every part of you feels like a live wire completely focused on this man.

His low weak chuckle makes your stomach flip in the best way.

Din exhales, breathy and deep.

You don’t want to over step, don’t want to ruin this. So you patiently wait, hoping he makes the first move.

Feeling his arms slide around yours, tentative but curious, you’re galvanized.

Immediately you rise and twist around to fully stare down at him. Looking at Din for a moment, here in the cockpit of your ship, you want to burn this image into your memory. Want to consecrate this in a way you never may do with anyone else again.

You rest your legs on either side of his, caging him in then you settle down onto his lap.

The soft low noise Din makes is music to your ears.

He says your name, but it sounds more like a warning.

“I want this… I want you.” You tell him, finally admitting the words out loud.

Then, you grind down on his lap, straddling him, and immediately pleasure floods into your system.

Din groans, and it spurs you on instantly.

Frustrated that you’re still in your damn flight suit, you unzip the top, slide off the jacket, and exhale feeling the coolness reach your skin. Sliding your hands up to his shoulders you whisper his name.

Then you grind against the bulge in Din’s pants pressing into you, and your mind goes foggy.

But not foggy enough that you notice Din remains still.

Everything collides into you with a halting stop. What if he doesn’t want this?

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” You halt your movements and apologize composed as you can. Awkwardly you lift yourself off of him.

“No I-” Din starts, but then stops himself.

You settle back down on him but this time further back on his thighs.

“Do you… not want to do this?” You ask cautiously. “Because it’s okay if you don’t.”

It’s okay if you don’t want me, is what you actually want to say. But you’re not brave enough for that, no matter how many empire ships you’ve shot down.

“No.” Din noisily exhales frustrated.

His hands go to rest on your thighs. His head falls forward, crestfallen.

“I want this, want you. Just afraid I won’t be able to stop.” He admits weak.

“You don’t have to stop… I don’t want you to.” You admit, soft and greedy, deciding not to hold back now.

Here in your ship, you think maybe he’s become your prey, trapped in your spiderweb. But then his helmet ever so slightly tilts up to you. Under the watch of his unflinching visor, you now feel like a prey caught within a hunter’s gaze.

His heavy breathing grows stronger and reignites something in you.

“Din,” You mutter his name, and he lets out a strained curse.

“I think about you… too much.” Din reveals like it’s a painful truth, as if the words hurt to say.

“I think about you all the time.” The truth leaves you effortlessly now.

“Wonder about what color your eyes are,” You decide to be the brave rebellion pilot you are.

“If you and the baby are safe, eating well,” you add, and he chuckles breathily.

“I think about how brave you are and how… lucky I am to know you,” you continue feeling molten and sentimental now.

Din says your name again, this time tender, and it almost causes you to falter.

So you lean closer to his helmet.

“I think about how handsome you are… imagine your cock inside me.” You mutter and hearing the words aloud feels too much.

But then his strong hands dig into your thighs and slide you on his lap fully, dragging you across his clothed cock.

How strong he pulled you, the fast friction draws a whine from you.

“Yeah?” He growls and leans his helmet directly against your face. The cool beskar touching your skin is heavenly.

“Yeah.” You moan, and your hips begin their rhythm again.

This time it’s not just you moving. Din finally grinds up into you, and you see stars. Your underwear sticks to your sticky core, but you don’t care.

Not when you and Din rut against each other and his hands chart a path all over you. One hand slides up to your neck, anchoring you close to him. The other moves to your back, sliding up to bunch your tank top in his grasp.

It’s too hot now, and you’re wearing too many clothes.

So you weakly draw away from his hold to reach up and yank your top off.

Then you wiggle the last bit of the jump suit off, trying to let your hips and legs be free. But it’s hard.

Din even chuckles at your struggle, and you shoot him a look, annoyed. Patiently, he helps slide the material down until it pools down your legs.

Now you’re simply in your underwear, completely bare before him.

The sensation of his gloved hands running up your stomach, across your back, reverently taking in every inch of your bare soft skin, it melts you.

“Beautiful,” Din breathes in awe.

Then one of his gloved hands crawls up to knead your breast in his grasp, pinching your nipple. Your head falls back, and your hips return to seek relief. Grinding against him without the jumpsuit, the friction is so much stronger, a delicious undercurrent making you want more.

“Din,” You sob, feeling the pleasure build fast.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper quickly getting drunk on him.

He cusses again sharp, dragging you harder against his clothed cock.

A loss comes when his hands leave your body, but wearily your eyes open once you feel him move to his pant buckle. Eagerly you join in to help.

His cock in your hand is warm. He’s thick, delicious in size. He’s already leaking, and possessed by something raw you lean down to lightly spit on his cock. Din groans so loud you think it rattles your bones.

Stroking his cock slow, you love feeling his mess mix with your spit.

He quickly hisses your name.

“Inside now,” he urges, a desperate man. Clutching at your hips hard, he practically draws you up.

Who are you to deny your mandalorian?

He helps slide off your stick underwear, now fully bare.

Before you sink down on him, you lean closer to his helmet.

You don’t have to say anything. You simply look at him, a final reassurance to see if he wants this the way you want him.

A gloved hand curls up to your face, cradling your sweaty face, stroking your cheek. His touch is fond, and it rocks you more than anything.

He nods firm, so sure.

So you sink down on him, guiding him into you. Both you and him moan and the world implodes in the most beautiful way.

When you were younger and around the veteran pilots, they used to share tales of how they’d christen their ships. Back then, you couldn’t imagine bringing anyone into this sacred space to do that.

Now you don’t want Din to leave it.

A fervid raw desperation has you clinging to him, Din touches you so protectively, keeping you close. His hands clutch you firm, like he’s worried you could fly away from him at any moment.

Needing to be closer, you curl against his neck. You ache to kiss his skin. But the smell of gunpowder, of something beautifully musky, purely Din, floods your mind and makes your mouth water.

His pace grows sloppy, and you feel it coming too.

“Where?” He slurs urgently.

“Inside, got the implant,” you mutter half dazed, but when you feel his cock twitch inside you moan embarrassingly loud.

“Inside Din please please please.” You now beg, wanting to feel him so badly.

“Not until you come first, wanna feel you.” Din demands growling back, and it pushes you over the edge.

Your climax knocks you into another realm. You’re floating. Din follows you over not long after with the deepest groan.

His warmth fills you, even feel it leaking out, causing you to whimper so content.

Exhausted you flop against his chest loving the cool press of his armor against your bare skin. Then a part of you hisses to pull away. Until Din’s helmet gently leans to rest against your head, and his gloved fingers tenderly stroke your back keeping you in place.

“So… you ever done that before in here?” Din asks, partially joking but still curious.

You shake your head no.

“You’re the only one.” You reveal.

His hand tracing across your skin suddenly stops. Then it fully draws across you to draw you closer to him in a soft like embrace.

An aching adoration for this man cements itself into you. It’s now etched into your heart and now your ship. Maybe the two are the same.

After this night, you find him everywhere now.

Anytime he or you return back from a mission, one seeks the other out.

Din and Grogu now even rest in your quarters.

The lodging here is small, but it’s become your makeshift home. Grogu snuggles up warm among the blanket pile you’ve made for him on the extra cot. And Din sleeps beside you in your bed.

You believed it was something sacred to know a mandalorian, but you realize it’s a true honor to find one seeking rest beside you.

Bathed in the moonlight leaking into your room, you and Din stare at each other lying side by side.

You wish he could relax more, maybe take off his armor.

But remaining helmeted, you understand his creed and don’t want to push. It’s just a small piece of you being selfish and wanting to see him.

“What’s wrong?” He notices your silence.

“I wish I could make this more comfortable for you.” Is the best way you can tell him.

He chuckles.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

To even prove it he settles deeper among the pillows sliding closer to you.

“Nicer than the cot that I have on Nevarro.”

You almost laugh. He’s so endearing sometimes and doesn’t even realize it.

But you’re reminded he does have a home.

“What’s your place like on Nevarro?” You ask about it.

“It’s good, simple.” Such a boring classic Din answer.

“Maybe… one day you can see it.” That addition he makes has your heart racing.

“Yeah, I’d like that” you nod, grateful for the offer.

Slowly your eyes close on their own now.

“Brown,” until suddenly he blurts out a random color.

Wearily opening your eyes blinking at him a bit confused.

“My eyes… they’re brown.” He reveals.

A soft grateful smile warms your face as you thank him.

You fall asleep beside him, wondering about his home, what it would be like to wake up and see his beautiful brown eyes.

But those daydreams get shoved away fast.

Missions begin piling up. The empire trash is getting sneakier, working faster in the shadows. It keeps everyone busy. You barely see Din. When you do the exchanges are brief, simple glances or even short catch ups.

Ward eyes you and Din suspicious but of course aware.

Approaching Din you try avoiding the colonel’s gaze as she leaves.

That’s when you spot the ship that flew in yesterday.

“You wanted… this hunk of junk?” You dubiously stare at the razor crest. This is the beloved ship Din apparently had been searching high and low for.

“She flies better than she looks.” Din defends.

Grogu excitedly waddles up the ramp eager to be inside the old ship.

You still eye the gunship worried about how good she can protect the cargo she’ll soon be carrying.

“Might not be a x-wing, but I trust this ship with my life.” Din senses your apprehension.

You give him a soft elbow nudge that barely makes his budge. But he playfully nudges you back, and a grin tugs at your lips.

“Ugh,” Zeb groans with faux disgust seeing you and Din. You roll your eyes.

“You know, I notice with all the markings… this ship looks like it could fit in with a gold squadron.” You tell Zeb nudging your chin towards the paint.

He barks a laugh.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight. This piece of junk flying with us?” Zeb muses.

“I don’t know…I think the crest would fight right in.” You shrug, fond.

“Yeah? Think we could get Mando in a uniform?” Zeb adds and Din flat out shuts that down with a hard no.

It makes you and Zeb snicker.

Now you head in to examine the ship yourself and look around. The older metal, the antique design and layout, it really doesn’t ease your apprehension, but you trust Din.

“Your beskar boy has shit taste picking a ship like this.” Zed snorts heading up to the cockpit.

“Shut up.” You practically hiss at him.

But he leaves you and Din alone.

It’s hard to navigate this strange space lingering between you and him, as if neither you or him know how to move.

So you decide to be brave. You grab his hand and squeeze it.

“Be safe,” you nod to the mandalorian.

He quietly nods back, gathering your hand in his. He squeezes back just as firm.

You head out of the razor crest and into the bright afternoon sun. From the cockpit window you spot your boys. Din nods a farewell, and Grogu spotting you waves down from the control panel. In his grasp is your silly little monster charm.

Not moving from your spot, you keep your eyes on the ship until it fades into the jump of hyperspeed.

You don’t hear from Din for half a month.

It’s nothing new. You’re had months where missions kept you both busy. And from how displeased she was with the last mission, Ward apparently has him working on something fierce.

Then another week passes, and you’re sent on a protective mission to Chandrilla.

It takes your full attention. But the entire time your mind is on Din. Are he and Grogu safe? Is everything going okay?

“You must be in love.” The Senator you’re escorting on the mission says suddenly. Embarrassment floods you fast.

“I’m sorry?” You ask slightly confused.

He smiles at you kindly.

“You’ve been sighing, seem distant. Like a heroine kept away from a lover.”

Shit.

“I apologize. I promised I’m focused.” You reassure him, and the senator laughs.

“It’s fine, my dear,” he reassures, then leans in eagerly. “So tell me about the lucky person.”

Now here you are telling this Senator about your awful admiration for the mandalorian.

“Oh, a mandalorian.” He whispers in awe. “They’re a rare kind. He must be quite a sight.”

He is. But he’s more than that.

He’s kind and unbelievingly sharp. Strikingly powerful, and unwaveringly supportive. There’s a compassion that walks hand in hand with Din’s firm courage.

“Oh you got it bad,” the Senator laughs.

It’s unfortunately true.

How fast and quickly this mandalorian has disarmed you, but what else would you have expected from a warrior like him? Maybe you were doomed from the start to fight against feelings for such a fierce conqueror.

The thoughts of him keep you going through the mission.

Arriving at base camp, you instead find there’s already commotion.

Din has returned, but he’s not alone.

Jabba’s son, Rotta the Hutt, is with him.

At least Din and the baby are safe.

Standing off overlooking the beach, Din patiently watches Grogu play among the beach waves with the young Hutt.

“So, looks like you’ve been busy.” You say moving to his side.

“Tell me about it.” He sighs.

The rundown he gives you is surface level, getting tied up among the Hutt twins while trying to search for the infamous Commander Coin.

“Things might get hairy soon. I’m heading back to Nevarro to lie low for a while.”

His somber tone says more looms.

“Din…” you mutter cautiously.

He turns to you.

“If you’re in any danger…know that I want to help.” You urge, hoping he’ll tell you more.

“I know.” He nods, yet says nothing more.

Please, your heart begs, please let me stay by your side and fight with you.

But you know fighting against this adamant man is a losing battle. So you sigh and reach down to your belt.

The charm you have on today is your favorite, and you hand it to him.

“Remember to bring it back to me.” You can’t even look at him because your eyes suddenly feel like they could spill over a river of tears.

His gloved hand cradles your face, letting you fully look at him.

“We’ll be fine.” His voice soothes you steeled with resolution.

You nod, fighting harder against tears.

Then Din leans down. He presses his helmet against your forehead. You close your eyes and lean into the cool beskar.

With a goodbye hug to Grogu, you tell the sweet little soul to keep an eye on his dad.

This time, you don’t have the strength to watch them leave.

You throw yourself into any available mission.

Ward must sense why you’re doing this and in a punishment of sorts, she instead sticks you on filing reports.

“Mando will be fine,” Teva tries to reassure you.

You hope he will be. Days pass and you try to settle into a routine.

But then a group of Anzellans arrive in a panic. You’d been working on your ship when they landed.

Currently they rapidly relay a message to Ward. She patiently tries to listen to all of their worried voices.

“What’s going on?” You ask Wolf.

“Apparently Mando and the kid are stuck on Nal Hutta… don’t think it’s looking good.” He mutters back somber.

Absolute dread is unleashed in you.

You don’t realize you’re moving until you’re standing right before the colonel.

“Let me join the rescue strike.” You urge.

Ward turns to you, then sighs, even says your name a bit heartbroken. That says enough.

“Are we really considering not going?!” Your voice raises, shocked and upset.

“It’s not that simple.” Ward, calm and composed, tries to clarify, but just hearing that line feels like an alarm goes off in your head.

“What isn’t simple?! He’s one of us. We have to rescue them.” You argue back harder.

“There are protocols. And with the intel and alliance we’ve tried establishing with the Hutts we can’t just strike in, ranger.” Ward sharply explains, putting you in your place.

Anger burns through your veins.

“She’s right, colonel…” Teva suddenly speaks up.

“Mando is one of us.” He agrees with you.

More Delphi officers stand up.

Before Ward can even say anything, you turn on your heels and head out of the hanger zipping up your flight suit.

You don’t care if this will get you in trouble, hell even dishonorably discharged. Din needs you. Grogu needs you.

Then you hear a few others arrive in the hangar.

Ward calls out your name. This is it.

Turning towards her, you ready yourself to accept whatever punishment. Yet, you instead see your commander in her flight suit as well. Your eyes can’t help but widen.

She sighs yet gives you a half grin, understanding.

“I should sit you out on this mission.”

“I know. I’ve accepted that I’ll be doing reports for the rest of the year.” You sleepily shrug.

Her smirks grows bigger.

“Try two years,” she says heading to her ship.

You’ll happily accept that too.

The twin’s palace is heavily guarded, and it’s a true dogfight on Nal Hutta.

Then Din’s voice electrifies the coms as he reports in with Colonel Ward. Absolute relief blooms in your chest, and you feel like crying. He’s alive.

Now you fly harder and faster than you ever have. It reminds you of Endor. That final battle all you thought of was the hope right before your eyes, knowing something precious was so close and needed to be defended.

That’s what this feels like.

You manage to knock out a few droid ships, but the main focus is on the palace.

Yet Din remains inside.

And Ward gives the command to light the place up.

“Get out of there. Please.” You whisper out loud or maybe to the force itself.

Then, the stronghold goes under flames.

You and the others circle around, flying out of the line of fire from the explosion. Yet your stomach stays in knots.

“Anyone got eyes on Mando?” Wolf asks before you can.

Out from the smoke, there among the water below, you spot them. Your boys are alive.

A watery relieved laugh escapes you as you blink away the tears.

“Go pick up the trash, Zeb.” Ward jokes, and you can’t even be mad.

Knowing they’re safe is all that matters.

Vibrating with so much emotion, you land besides Zeb’s ship hoping to see them.

But Ward of course arrives first.

You instead idle by your x-wing, pretending to be checking your engines. Ward tells him the truth about the Hutts that even you didn’t know. So that’s why she finally agreed to go.

“And… we don’t leave our own behind.” Her words resound within you.

Din deflects, saying how he’s not with the New Republic.

“Sure you aren’t Mando, sure you aren’t.” She says.

“If you aren't one of us… Who do you think helped convince us to come?”

Ward’s insinuating tone shoots a shock up your spine.

You keep your gaze on your ship, refusing to even look their way. Focusing on mindlessly keeping busy, you don’t notice footsteps approaching until you move out from under the wing. There Din stands waiting.

He’s here.

Grogu cries gleefully, and your attention turns to him. You eagerly accept him into your arms hugging him tight.

“I’m so proud of you. You must have been so brave, my little ranger.” You even press a kiss to his fuzzy head, addressing him as the courageous officer he is.

The baby coos back fond, embracing you with his sweet but sturdy little arms.

While he’s still in your hold, your eyes open to find Din.

He stares unwavering at you, and your eyes water again.

“Welcome back,” you croak out.

Din nods, then, he raises up your favorite charm you gave him.

“Had to bring this back.”

With a watery laugh, you shake your head.

“Your dad is so silly,” you half whisper to Grogu who giggles, agreeing.

A sigh leaves Din but, in a few steps, he walks towards you.

Then you and Grogu are gathered into his embrace. You immediately wrap one of your arms around Din.

“Thank you… for coming for us.” Din’s voice is gentle, grateful.

“Always.” You answer back with a resounding truth.

Your job is tied here, and you might fly for the sake of the New Republic. But you believe your true wings, your heart’s flight navigation, now will always include a path for and to Din Djarin.

Currently he chats with Rotta, from what you heard might be staying here too.

Once you head into the mess hall Ward calls your name. With a patient knowing grin, she holds out the datapad with the promise of the paperwork you knew would be waiting for you.

Logging in with your chain link, a new message suddenly chimes onto the monitor from an unknown contact.

It contains a coordinates location to Nevarro along with a single message attached.

Stop by whenever, we’ll be waiting

Quickly, you start the reports happily accepting your punishment.

“He’s set to be an independent operative, but know he is working for and with us.” The colonel’s words then officially etch the truth in stone.

Mando comes around basecamp like a ghost. Barely staying put for you to register his presence, yet the whispers about him grow.

“I heard he took out a whole imperial squadron and a Moff too.” Dyana, your closest friend, tells you enthusiastic to catch up on all the rumors.

Then Ward calls for you, and you miss out on any other gossip Dyana and the others had.

“I’ll be heading to Coruscant this week to meet with a few higher ups and senators… I need you to do all the debriefs with Mando while I’m away.

It’s like a rancor suddenly barreled into you.

“Wait, me?” You stupidly question confused, and Ward shoots you a look, raised eyebrows and all.

“Do you think you’re not capable of handling this, ranger?”

“No, colonel.” You quickly reply, and she nods.

“Good, that’s what I thought.”

When you see her off, it must be obvious how hesitant you still are. Her sturdy hand gives your shoulder a reassuring pat.

“Don’t worry. He’s not as scary as everyone thinks he is.” Ward reassures, but it doesn’t soothe you much.

Especially when the day arrives and you find yourself waiting for him.

Just like before, the mandalorian saunters in and your focus is immediately drawn to him. But then, it gets knocked out of orbit when you find he’s not alone.

A tiny green creature waddles in beside him, childishly blinking at every sight. Why is a child with the mandalorian?

“Where’s Ward?” A rich striking voice startles you. Of course the terrifying warrior would sound this intimidating.

“Went to Coruscant for a meeting.” You reply partly stunned you’re actually talking to him.

“And you are?” But then mandalorian questions, sharp and distrustful, and it pisses you off. He’s the newcomer here, and he decides to question you?

“I’m the person you’re stuck with for your debrief and mission logs unfortunately.” Your voice whips out sharp.

He doesn’t say anything.

“What about Teva?” He counters again, and you want to scream. What’s this guy’s problem?

“Out on a mission,” your reply is sharper, bladed with annoyance.

“If you want you can personally contact Ward and explain why I’m not satisfactory enough for your debrief. I’m sure she’d love that.” Then the defiant reply escapes you faster than you can stop it.

It’s as if the whole cantina mess hall heard you because it becomes deathly silent.

The mandalorian simply stares you down with his unflinching helmet. Then the warrior turns and strides out not saying another word.

“I think you pissed him off.” Wolf snickers breaking the stillness.

A sense of dread looms as you realize you might’ve truly just gotten yourself into a mountain load of trouble.

Ward calls that night, and you knew it was coming.

“Why do you want to start a fight with the mandalorian?” She asks calmly over the comms.

“I’m not! He started it!” You can’t help but childishly counter. You even further explain how demanding and untrusting he was.

The colonel sighs.

“You have to understand… His people don’t trust easily. And for good reason. Try to be the one to play nice here.”

You want to be petty and say he needs to as well, but you can’t argue with Ward.

“Do the whole debrief drunk.” Zeb jokes about it with you the next day, and you scoff.

But by the time sunset arrives you start getting tempted to get a drink because maybe Mando isn’t showing up.

Until he does. And again he’s not alone. The strange but sweet little creature continues waddling alongside Mando.

It’s awkward as hell when he approaches your table. The tension lingers thick from yesterday prickling across your skin in the worst way.

You don’t even know if you should say anything

“Mweh?” A surprisingly soft little noise floats through the tension and you turn towards it. You blink down to find the mysterious little being staring up at you with sweet wide eyes.

With curious claws, the baby reaches for the loth cat charm dangling off your belt, the one of many trinkets your niece has given you.

Melted by the sight, you grin and scoot closer. Then you unclasp the charm for the baby to examine it more.

“You like it? It’s cute right?”

The little one agrees with a chirp sounding so endearing.

Something softly clicks. If a creature so tiny and innocent as this baby confidently travels with the mandalorian, then he couldn't be that much of an ass.

Someone sighs. Then settling back into your seat, you find the mandalorian seated across from you. The baby hops up to sit beside him. Yet his eager eyes remain happily taken with your charm.

“That imp base on Hoth had no leads.” He speaks first.

You’re stunned.

Your gut urges you to not make a big deal about this, to simply now see him as another coworker.

So you nod and casually plug in the info on your datapad.

“Hoth was a long shot, but we appreciate you going.” You even add that in.

You knew of a few pilots who served during the Hoth raid. It’s an unforgiving planet, takes a lot of guts to investigate that icy fortress.

“What’s the next order?” Mando asks firm, all business, just like Ward had told you.

You slide him a bounty chip containing info on a possible military officer who could be running a smuggling ring. The mandalorian doesn’t say anything else, simply takes the card and stands up.

“Come on, kid.” All he does is address the baby, not even sparing you a second glance.

Cute and so politely, the kid hands back your loth cat with a noise that feels like a thank you.

“You’re welcome, little cutie,” you tell him warmly.

Once the pair are out of sight, you sigh exhausted, relieved, and sprawl out on the table glad it’s over. Someone barks a laugh, and you aren’t even embarrassed about it.

You can’t wait till this is over.

It’s already been a week and a half of being grounded doing these debriefs with Mando. You miss being in the skies. But all that hope of getting back in the clouds gets squashed.

“I need to negotiate a few more issues with Senator Organa… can you continue to do the debrief?” It isn’t much of a question but more of an order from Ward.

So you meet with Mando for the rest of the week and into the next. It’s cordial, barely speaking for more than ten minutes with each other.

You try to be friendly, make a joke about the weather, but he just silently stares at you, obviously annoyed.

And it pisses you off all over again.

But you think of the adorable little baby who eagerly tags along with the terrifying hunter. The kid sweetly waves, and you wave back. You started bringing treats after his guardian chided him for eating some of yours.

The annoyed sigh Mando gave when you brought more snacks to share was worth it.

This time you decided to bring something else along with you.

It was the first charm your sister gave you when you became a pilot. A tradition her daughter, your niece, now does with you.

“Look!” You eagerly hold up the plush creature that makes the baby’s eyes go wide.

With adorable tiny grabby hands, he reaches for it and you happily hand it over.

You grin pleased seeing how pleased the kid coos.

“What’s your name?” The sudden question from Mando surprises you.

A bit stunned, you give it to him.

He nods solemnly, repeating it. Your heart does a strange flip hearing his deep voice say your name.

“This is Grogu.” He then introduces the kid who chimes in hearing his name.

“Nice to meet you, Grogu.” You excitedly greet the kid.

Then you turn to Grogu’s guardian. This solemn but striking mandalorian now has you curious to who he is. Your mind thinks about the rumors that have spread about him.

“And you? What’s your name?” You ask politely, but immediately you can almost hear Dyana screaming at you. She’s become the new expert on Mandalorian customs.

“They’re private people,” she had told you, confirming what Ward had said. “It’s probably why not a lot of people know about him, much less his name.”

“I’m sorry, forgive me.” You stammer quickly. “You don’t have to give it.”

A moment passes, and you worry you’ve unraveled this tentative truce or whatever it is.

“Din… Din Djarin.” His full name. It’s lovely.

“Din…” you repeat it.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” And you mean that.

Mando, Din, nods, and you think it’s worth the few weeks being out of the skies.

When Din and Grogu leave you realize the kid still holds onto your plush charm.

“Come on kid, give it back.” Din urges noticing too.

“No it’s okay. He can keep it. Give it back to me next time.” You grin at the baby, and Grogu giggles pleased at the answer.

“What do you say, kid?”

Grogu chirps a sweet thanks and waddles away content with the plushie in his arms.

The next day, as promised, he brings it back. But you exchange another charm with him. This time it’s a cute cloud with a sweet face. Eager for the new trinket, Grogu ditches the plushie and you laugh.

Work then follows suit. Din explains on the intel he’s slowly gaining on the imp official.

“Taking a bit longer than expected.” Din gruffly admits.

“Don’t worry. Rodents like him know how to hide. It’s not your fault. Then again that’s probably an insult to rodents.” You’ve been trying to stay professional, channel your inner composed Colonel Ward. But the old rebel pilot comes out.

Suddenly, a chuckle follows.

Din laughed.

You swear you misheard it. But the way Grogu giggles agreeing with his protector, you know you heard correctly.

“A fair statement.” Din agrees.

And you grin back at him. A golden victorious feeling bubbles in your chest.

Watching the pair leave, you find you’re excited to see them again.

The rest of the debriefs go smoother than ever. You bring new charms for Grogu to play with, and Din seems to settle in more.

“You have a lot of those.” He even comments a bit dry when you exchange another new charm with Grogu. This time it’s a fuzzy bantha.

“Managed to gather a small collection.” You explain.

“Really… couldn’t tell.” Din deadpans.

That’s when you realized he just joked with you.

“Think you might like those two,” Zeb teases the next time he drops by the mess hall.

“It’s called being civil.” You stubbornly reply while messing with the holopad, and the Lasat warrior barks a laugh.

“Civil? Yeah sure.” He teases further.

You stay stubbornly quiet.

“Don’t worry… They’re a pain in my ass too.” Zeb huffs, and it does soothe your annoyance.

Especially now that something is festered in you, a sort of curious itch to learn more about Din Djarin.

“I heard… he really did blow up an entire imperial base. That’s how Teva found him.” Dyana is happy to spill more gossip about him.

“He’s quiet, doesn’t talk much. So I doubt he’d say anything even if he did.” You mutter.

“Does he really keep a pet around?” Dyana presses for any new info.

The word ‘pet’ sounds harsh.

“He’s more like the kid’s guardian.” The word ‘parent’ instead wants to slip out especially after you’ve seen Din’s fatherly watch over the baby.

“Oh that’s even more interesting! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?!” Dyana shrieks.

“You’ve been busy.” You half lie.

You could argue that it’s because you want to protect Din’s trust and don’t want to disturb that. But the truth is, you don’t want to share this little secret bond you’ve cultivated with him.

You however rapidly kick those thoughts away.

Ward will be back sometime this week. Your brief time with the Mandalorian would be over soon.

Except that time comes sooner than expected.

The next morning Colonel Ward arrives, an early return. Disappointment arrives just as fast. You knew this was only a temporary thing.

Trying not to feel annoyed, you now work on your x-wing. Deep under the hull, you refuel trying just to keep your mind focused here.

“Didn’t know you were a mechanic.” Suddenly, the rich voice of a certain mandalorian echoes in the hanger.

You scramble out from under the ship confused if you heard right.

But standing off to the side are indeed Din and Grogu.

“What? Thought I just did paper work and worked as an assistant?” You tease.

Din chuckles, and it sinks into the glowing sunlight coating the hanger in its glory.

“You’re looking at one of the New Republic’s best pilots!” Dyana.

She perks up emerging from the other side of the ship, and you shoot a glare her way not even knowing where she came from.

“A pilot?” Din questions, curious.

His helmet tilts towards you.

“Sometimes,” you shrug.

“And I wouldn’t say best.” You weakly laugh then glower at Dyana again. She simply beams innocently back at you.

“One day you gotta tell him about Endor. Though I’m sure you have plenty of fight stories to share too, Mando!”

You want to strangle her.

“You fought at Endor?” Din asks, helmet fully facing you and voice faintly awed.

It all makes your skin feel heated and tight.

All you can do is shrug again.

Endor seems like so long ago now. You were so much younger then. Wild and ready to sacrifice it all for the sake of protecting everything you loved. A small secret corner of your heart aches for those days of when you flew with such fire.

“Well… gotta go! Nice to finally meet you both!” Dyana nods to Din and smiles at the baby before scurrying away.

A traitor in the flesh fleeing if you ever did see one.

“So…an x-wing pilot.” Din comments, still watching you. His curious and impressed tone ignites a strange sensation in your chest that threatens to consume you.

“On good days I am.” You again shrug with a half smile.

“So what was Endor like?” He inquires, and you’re surprised he’s curious about that.

“Don’t know, never went on planet… kinda was busy flying around.”

You don’t even need to see his face to know he’s giving you a silent unamused stare. He must not think your joke is as funny as you do.

A surprised giggle does come though. Both you and Din discover Grogu effortlessly climbing up onto the wing of the ship.

“Kid.” Din chides.

“How did you get up there so fast?” You laugh amused at the sight of this tiny creature waddling on top of your x-wing.

Din sighs, truly parental.

“I take it that you fly?” You ask him yet keeping your gaze on Grogu to make sure he stays safe.

“I do.” Din answers, confident.

“Must be why he’s so curious and comfortable around ships. It’s good when kids get to experience being in the air.” You think of your niece who eagerly tries to convince you to fly her around.

“My niece is the same way.” You reveal.

Din hums a noise, acknowledging he’s listening.

“Is she the reason why you have all those charms?” He asks in a tone softer than you’ve ever heard.

“Excuse you, they are medals of honor.” You jokingly try to sound offended.

“With you I wouldn’t be surprised.” He replies deadpan, and you snicker.

“But yeah… she’s the one who gives them to me.” You explain how it was your sister who first started giving you those charms to decorate your x-wing.

They were to remind you to come home safe.

“I was ordered not to come home unless I brought the charms back safe and sound.” You repeat the same words your sister told you.

A soft breeze enters the hanger bringing in a welcoming cooling touch. But it’s then you realize how close you’re now standing next to Din. You didn’t even notice when you or him moved closer to each other.

“That’s… sweet.” His voice carries a tenderness that sneaks under your ribs and sinks in deep.

You turn and find he’s already looking at you.

Under Din’s gaze, it’s like you’re caught in a tractor beam unable to speak or move.

Dangerous thoughts have already begun clouding your mind, and they all connect back to this man. Like how you’ve noticed how broad his shoulders look, and how strong he is helping move crates around the base. What’s worse is you’ve begun wondering what this mandalorian looks like under his helm.

Grogu’s little giggle finally draws your attention away. Currently he peeks inside the cockpit through the window.

“So I take it this is your ship?” Din asks.

“No, I stole it.” You quip back.

“Sure you did.” His dry reply makes you snicker.

“It’s how I got to fight at Endor.” You jest, stealing a quick glance at Din. Of course he shakes his head unamused.

“Thought you didn’t see Endor.” He uses your dry joke back at you, and you can’t help it.

You playfully elbow him.

Another little giggle comes. Glancing back to the ship, Grogu now peers over from the wing’s edge grinning at you and Din.

“Little troublemaker, are you going to be a pilot one day?” You smile at Grogu.

“Mweh!” He squeals.

“I think that’s a yes,” you tell Din proudly.

“No.” Din answers back firmly.

“It’s okay I’ll teach you one day,” you counter sweetly, and the baby giggles more.

“No.” Din repeats again firmer.

A small cluster of pilots approach. Their laughter and conversation fill the air. Guess this moment is over.

“Still need to see Ward… shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Din is smooth about making his exit.

Quickly Grogu jumps into his arms, and you bid the duo goodbye for now.

You haven’t been in the air for long, but it feels like you’re floating now.

The moments you see the pair become like scattered stars.

Months settle in, and a routine follows. You sometimes see Din in the mess hall cantina when you return from a mission. Discussing with the colonel, all you can simply do is give your boys quick smiles.

Other times Din stops by the hanger where you linger now more than ever hoping he drops by. You and him talk about work, missions, the various planets visited.

You want to ask what got him to work for the new republic, but you don’t want to disturb whatever is growing between you and him.

“It’s budding love.” Dyana sagely declares one evening at the cantina, and Zeb agrees.

“It’s not!” You screech over a drink.

“I don’t think Mando has said more than five words to me, yet I see him talking to you so much.” Another pilot chimes in.

“He talks to Zeb the most!” You argue back. The two of them are often paired up on missions now. You try not to get annoyed by it.

“Not as much as you, kid.” Zeb rebuttals.

“Don’t think we haven’t seen the way he hangs around the hanger for you.” Sash Ketter snickers, and it only ignites the discussion once again.

You dismiss all their words as attempts trying to rile you up.

Because you don’t want to face the truth. You long for your chats with Din, even just to see him for a moment and play with Grogu.

It’s just an awful infatuation. That’s it.

Your small vacation break now approaching may be more of a blessing than you realize. It’ll hopefully give you time to clear your head.

“I’m heading home to visit family. I’ll be sure to bring back something good.” You tell Din the next time you run into him outside the cantina.

“There’s no need. Just… be safe.” Din nods.

His gentle words carry you the entire flight home.

The brief week away provides peaceful moments of relaxation. While you enjoy the time spent with your sister’s family, you long to return to Adelphi.

“So, what did you get me this time?” You ask your niece the day before you’re set to head back.

“I got you… THIS!” She proudly raises up an odd creature. You can’t even tell what it is.

“She made it herself.” Your sister whispers, and your eyes go wide.

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me we have an artist in this family now?!” You cry excitedly scooping up your niece in your arms and tickle her with glee as she squeaks excitedly.

“Actually before I go… Do you think you can help me make one too?” You ask her and your niece's eyes light up.

With eager hands she gathers all her supplies to deposit them on the table ready to craft.

“So… are you going to tell me who you’re making this for?” Your sister asks slightly suspiciously as you add little puffballs to your monster creation.

“What if I just want my charm to have a friend, huh?” You deflect.

“Yeah sure.” She’s not convinced but thankfully doesn’t press any further.

As hard as it is saying goodbye to her and your niece, you’re thankful to finally be back to your routine.

And of course, the new little charm sitting in your pocket seems to hold so much weight.

Din returns a few days after you. It’s hard trying to ignore the bubbling joy that rises watching him approach your x-wing first.

“Welcome back.” He greets and Grogu squeals adorably scurrying to you.

Eagerly you welcome his jump into your arms, and you squeeze him tight.

“I miss you too,” you tell Grogu but hope his father knows you mean him as well.

“And look, I got something for you.” You shift to hold Grogu in one arm.

Then you hold up the new charm.

“What is it supposed to be?” Din sounds confused and slightly alarmed.

“It’s a little monster,” you reply lightly insulted.

“My niece and I made these, and I knew someone who might like it.” You grin towards Grogu now.

“Bweh!” He cheers and draws the charm into his small arms so enamored with the strange monstrosity already.

“See! He likes it, that's what matters.” You huff proudly at Din.

Grogu chirps like he agrees. You laugh then catch Din’s chuckle too.

“What do you say, kid?” Din says.

Grogu however doesn’t say anything. Instead he leans up and hugs you. His sweet little arms curl against your neck.

Holding this baby so tight is like holding a little newborn star. You’re grateful for this moment and hug Grogu close, closing your eyes to fully embrace this wonderful tiny soul.

“You’re welcome, little troublemaker.” You softly tell him.

The baby then settles into your arms as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Worried you might have overstepped, you quickly snap your attention to Din. His helmet stays focused on you.

You wonder what his eyes look like, what color swims within his gaze.

“Glad you’re back safe.” Din’s voice sounds low, softer and a bit thick.

“Me too,” you reply, letting yourself sink into whatever it is overtaking your entire heart.

This infatuation, or whatever it’s mutated into, grows stronger. And it terrifies you.

But you’re reminded quickly there are more terrifying things to face.

The wound isn’t looking good.

You’re more pissed at yourself for getting ambushed by damn pirates. This operation was supposed to be simple, check in on the distress signal intercepted by base. But one pirate ambush later and you’re now stranded trying to stop the bleeding.

You just hope the emergency signal you sent back to camp went through. Leaning against your ship, you take a deep breath trying to calm yourself down. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Until something pierces your back, and a scream of pain escapes you. Electricity courses through your body knocking you to the ground.

Everything stings. You can barely concentrate, but you hear them. Gleeful disgusting laughs swirling all around. The damn pirates…

“Think of the price we’ll get for x-wing parts!” One of them muses.

“Or even for the pilot, quite a cute one.” That comment unleashes a panicked feral terror.

Get up, you have to get up. Even though every part of your body stings, screaming to stay still, you have to move.

You slowly try to sit up through the aftershocks, but then a boot comes to slowly step on your chest, pressing you down to the dirt.

“Nah uh little pilot, where do ya think you’re going.” A voice snickers.

You clench your jaw hard. This isn’t looking good.

A sudden blaster shot fires and immediately takes out a pirate with accurate precision.

“What was that?!” One of them screams.

Then a blaster shot silenced him.

“Step away from her now.” Din.

Or someone sounding like him.

The voice is deadly, terrifying, and you wonder if it even is Din.

Then the pirate towering above you with his boot still pressing on your chest suddenly gets thrown off.

Weakly you cough sitting up. While you do, you witness Din in action and realize he’s truly here.

And the way he attacks, effortlessly slicing through the pirate captain and the lackeys that try rushing him - he’s incredible.

You’ve never seen anyone fight so fluidly and powerful. You’re witnessing one of the most powerful warriors in the galaxy…

And he’s here to save you.

A small concerned whimper comes to your side and immediately you glance down. Grogu quickly waddles to your arm and flashes his wide worried eyes up to you.

“I’m okay, I promise.” He must see the wound, and you try smiling reassuringly.

He hums a small noise at you. Then he closes his eyes, laying his little claw against your elbow. Slowly a gentle warmth suddenly crawls up your shoulder.

What is he doing?

The stinging pain vanishes instantly. Reaching up to your shoulder, you find no wound.

“Mweh.” Grogu peers up at you with a small little wave.

“You really are something else, little trouble maker… thank you.” You fondly stroke his fuzzy little head, and he beams.

Din urgently yells your name and soon rushes to kneel before you. Gloved hands reach out to steady your shoulders.

“I’m fine.” You now reassure him and move to squeeze one of his hands.

An exhale escapes Din, relieved.

“I’m sorry you both had to come all the way out here. I’m sure there are better bounties to hunt.” You half tease.

“Don’t apologize.” He immediately snaps.

Grogu makes a sad noise as if chiding his father.

“Just glad you’re safe.” So Din gently adds and steadily helps you stand.

Zeb lands moments later with a mechanic to help patch up your ship. The entire time Din stays by your side, letting you lean against him for support. His guiding hand never leaves you.

You’re given the rest of the week off to recover.

“So was Mando on a mission with you when my distress beacon went out?” You ask Zeb when he drops by to check on you.

He snorts, giving you a knowing side eye smirk.

“Is that what you think?” Zeb doesn’t elaborate even when you pester him.

It’s Dyana of course who reveals the truth.

“Mando was the first to rush out. Ward had to practically stop him before he flew off on his own.” Her words unravel something effortlessly in you.

How can you ignore these feelings for a mandalorian anymore?

“I think it’s romantic.” Dyana thankfully doesn’t judge you when you finally admit everything to her.

There was no time for romance during a rebellion, during a war. Even now you almost scoff at the idea. There are other things to do, other things to focus on than get lovesick over someone.

But Din dismantled all those old thoughts in you, leaving you exposed and almost greedy for someone now.

“It’s okay to want that you know… romance and companionship.” Dyana tells you already sensing your hesitation.

You know her and a cute mechanic have been dating off and on for a while. She’s always been urging you to get out more, maybe try to find someone. Guess you just had to wait for a mandalorian to show up.

But you have to put all those giggles and feelings aside.

Your time resting is done, and immediately you’re thrown back into the rush of work.

A mission and orders arrive a few days later on your datapad.

Raid strike this week, get ready

It’s not a full strike squadron, but you’re thankful Zeb is tagging along.

“Think your boyfriend might be joining us.” He teases, and your eyes narrow hard. Now you regret him being here.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You rapidly dismiss.

“Huh uh.” He rolls his eyes.

As if summoned to add to your pain, Din enters the command center. It feels like feral lizard birds were released in your stomach.

Immediately his helmet spots you. Grogu perched on his shoulder chirps upon seeing you. Trying to act relaxed, you give the boys a casual wave and bright grin.

Zeb chuckles, and you silently shush him again under your breath. You walk to meet Din halfway.

“Glad you’re doing better.” He says, faintly warm, and you nod grateful.

“Thanks to my two heroes,” you thank them both again. Grogu beams toothy when you tickle his chin.

Din doesn’t say anything.

“Guess we’re finally teaming up.” So you speak up first.

“Seems like it,” Din agrees.

This isn’t the first time he’s seen you in your pilot gear. Hell, he just rescued you last week. But for some reason, you feel more self aware than ever.

Thankfully Ward enters, drawing the room’s attention to her.

The mission is to ambush the warlord now barricaded up in his mansion. He’s apparently greatly armed and even hired a small air brigade. It’s why this strike squadron was called in. You’re curious why Din is here though.

“Without the mandalorian’s intel, we wouldn’t have this opportunity. So we will be following his lead.” She sends her focus to him.

Din simply and silently nods back.

Then he moves to the holo map and gives details about the estate. Hearing how commanding and surefire his voice resounds, the way he walks confidently and without any hesitation, he’s incredible.

But there’s no time to linger on this warrior.

It’s time to fly.

“Finally get to see you in action,” you tell Din as he walks out with you.

“Guess you will.” He replies with a hint of something playful, and it only speeds up your racing heart.

All you can do is laugh before parting ways.

“Don’t get lost in the clouds.” You teasingly yell to the mandalorian and he looks back at you from over his shoulder.

You can’t see Din’s eyes, but you hope they’re amused.

Him and Grogu now trail away from where you’re stationed, and you settle into your ship.

Your x-wing roars alive, and the familiar comms flicker in your ear. Then the call signals electrify the start to battle.

“Delphi squadron, lock in.” Teva announces on the main channel, the leader for this run. Everyone follows suit locking in their coordinates.

“Blue 9, standing by.” You chime in, readying the flight path.

“Starfighter, standing by.” Then a new voice floats through your helmet.

The tone resonates rich as a stormy ocean sending a shock through your system.

Hearing Din in your helmet does something to you so wild that you feel guilty at how fast your core clenched. You recollect yourself fast.

That’s when you notice the ship he joined in with.

A starfighter? There’s no way. Those ships don’t exist.

But again, you’re proven so wrong.

Among the gunfire and smoke, the sounds of battle, a new gleam of silver catches your attention. The Naboo N-1 fighter is a marvel.

A sleek whisper of a dream, one minute she’s a simple flicker of light then the next she’s firing directly in the trenches of the fight.

But as in awe of the ship as you are, it’s the mandalorian who leaves you breathless.

Din flies amazing. The fast maneuvering, the excellent read he makes of the battle, among his readiness to swoop in and out of tight spaces - you’ve never seen anyone fly this beautifully.

It inspires you, the type of flying that makes you want to soar higher to catch up.

So you do.

You embrace the rebel pilot you always might be and dive through the canyons chasing after one of the bandits the warlord hired.

Quickly you dispatch the enemy ship then swirl and maneuver your x-wing to return to the open sky.

“Target on your left.” Din’s voice suddenly thunders in your ear, chiming in on your personal channel.

“Got it.” You reply steady and twist fast enough to fire on the swing mid air.

“Got him, great shot!” Listening to Din’s deep fierce voice over your private channel, his voice colored in pride, you have to mute the channel to exhale.

Because a wave of arousal crawled up your spine so fast you had to bite your lip. Now you try settling yourself down again.

You pride yourself on being composed when you fly. There of course have been times when you’ve gotten emotional and maybe reacted.

Yet here this masked man completely disarms you.

It’s a fight you realize you won’t win.

The raid is successful, and the warlord gets taken in alive. That’s the win that matters.

“Great job,” Din suddenly voices back in your comms, still sounding so proud, and you melt all over again.

“You too, thanks for the support,” you answer back, just as fond, then rapidly switch over the channel.

“Captain,” you ask Teva on his personal comms.

“Before we leave, do you think I can test Mando on how he flies?”

Teva takes a moment then sighs.

“Make it quick.”

Giddy you quickly chime back onto Din’s channel.

“Wanna go for a run?” A part of you worries he won’t want to join you.

“Lead the way.” But Din quickly answers, and you pull back up to the clouds.

The planet is rather gorgeous, full of lush canyons and towering mountains. It’s a flight playground. Among the skies, twisting and twirling down through the natural landscape, you and Din soar around each other, with each.

Playful, yet delicately cautious, your x-wing revolves alongside his starfighter. Din keeps up with you every moment. Quietly the image of a dance among the clouds floats into your mind.

“Up for a race?” He suddenly asks.

“Oh, you know it.” You agree, excited. You settle into your seat, ready to take off.

But in a flash, he zooms past you.

“What the hell?!” You shriek over the comms.

Din’s husky laugh in your ear is a beautiful reward.

Returning back to Adelphi, you and him fly beside each other. Ward gives everyone the night off, and the cantina already seems to shine extra bright landing in.

Settling into your spot in the hanger, you notice Din lands his starfighter closer than ever.

Sliding off your helmet, for a moment you worry about how bad your hair looks, how messy and sweaty you must be.

But heading down the ladder, Din already walks towards you.

All your worries vanish. You don’t even care how fast you walk towards him. Here standing before Din under the low lights of the hanger, the world melts away.

“You were incredible.”

“You flew… amazing.”

Both you and Din speak at the same time, words jumbling up and getting tangled. It startles you, even his shoulders stiffen a bit.

Then you laugh.

“No, you were the incredible one.” You tell him first.

“Not compared to you,” he shakes his head.

“Glad I finally got to see one of the Rebellion’s and New Republic’s best pilots in action.” There’s a smirk in his voice, and heat burns through your veins.

Any words you want to say, he’s stolen them right from you. All you’re reduced to is a love struck fool caught in the orbit of this powerful mandalorian.

Din doesn’t say anything either. It’s like you and him can’t look away from the other standing this close.

“Hey! Ya two love birds gonna join us or what?” Zeb suddenly breaks the spell, and your blood instantly boils.

You hiss foul curses at Zeb, and he only cackles with laughter.

Embarrassed and trying to escape this moment you shake your head heading towards the exit.

“Come on, let’s go celebrate.” You manage to smile at Din hoping to dispel any comments about what Zeb said.

The mandalorian follows you into the mess hall cantina. The lively celebratory air glimmers with joyous laughter. It’s a welcoming atmosphere, and even Wolf along with a few other pilots ask Din to join them.

“Maybe in a bit,” He nods, instead staying by your side when you approach the bar.

“No pressure, but drinks on me if you want.” You offer.

“I’ll pass, but thanks.” He instead places down credits for your drink, and you thank him with a toast.

“Come on, let’s see how good of a sabacc player you are.” After taking a huge sip, you allow the alcohol to sting in the best way.

“Think you might be dissapointed,” Din chuckles.

Of course he’s a damn natural.

Everyone at the table cries in frustration when he wins the second round, and you even narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, so you’re a liar.” You joke good naturedly.

“Never said I was good or bad.” He answers and it’s rather coy, lighter than what you’ve heard from him.

“Next time Mando I want you comin’ with me off planet! We could really win big.” Someone suggests and now it’s comforting seeing how much everyone has warmed up to him, how much Din has settled in here too.

Until you realize the baby is missing and immediately turn to Din. Maybe it’s the atmosphere but you lean closer to him placing your hand against his arm.

“Wait, where’s Grogu?” You ask concerned and low.

Din leans closer to you, his helmet almost grazing your face.

“Don’t worry, he’s asleep in the barracks.” Din’s answer comes low, reassuring.

Then he reaches up to lay his hand on top of yours. It’s a reassuring hold, a soft touch that brings comfort.

You exhale relieved and don’t have time to realize what he just did until someone drags Din away to play darts.

He squeezed your hand, and you now fight against a dumb smile just thinking about it.

Even after another round of getting your ass kicked at cards, you don’t care. You glance over to Din.

A cluster of pilots surround him. You’re not surprised. He’s a marvel, someone truly remarkable. But one of the prettier pilots slides up next to Din, batting her eyelashes so dreamily up at him.

Something fierce, venomous and coated in jealousy, strikes.

Reaching to Wolf, you nudge his shoulder a few times, and he knowingly looks at you. Not saying anything, he discreetly slips you a smoke stick.

You head out of the cantina into the soft warm night and light up. The smoke in your lungs settles you down for a moment and cuts through the alcohol.

Dumb Mandalorian man making you feel this way…

Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you watch the smoke you exhale mix into the air.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” Din.

His voice melts into the night like he stepped out of the shadows themselves. As he wanders towards you, you shift to lean against the rail of the patio.

“Not often,” you truthfully answer. It’s been a long time since you lit up.

A bad habit you picked up during your rebellion days, being as young as you were around seasoned veteran pilots. It became a way to calm yourself down and stop your hands from shaking from the nerves.

You even tell him that.

“What made you join?” He asks, tentative and quiet.

A loaded question but one you feel comfortable enough to answer, especially with him.

The empire took so much from you. You’re grateful you and your sister managed to keep each other safe, look out for each other. You weren’t lying when you joked about stealing ships. Learning to steal is how you survived for a while as a kid.

Then you accidentally stole from a man named Luthen Rael, and your life changed. Whatever he saw in your eyes that day when he caught you… it kept you alive.

He’s the one who helped get your wings, got you in touch with rebellion once you could fly. Once you joined, you never saw him again.

“Never looked back since.” You tell this all to Din.

You don’t regret your choices. They’re what brought you here after all, kept you safe even during the danger.

“You did what you had to… you should be proud of the life you’ve made. Of the wars you've fought and survived.” Din sincerely commends you, and his words settle deep in your heart.

You softly thank him, appreciating the sentiment.

“And you? What brought you to the New Republic?” Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you finally decide to ask.

This time he’s sighing and moves to lean against the rail beside you. He’s pressed up right beside you.

“Benn a long way to get here as well.” He’s vague, but explains how he was, and still is a bounty hunter by trade. How that path led him to the kid. How Grogu is by Mandalorian creed his son and apprentice now.

“I couldn't keep getting involved with pirates, working for gangsters. It’s not the life I wanted anymore.”

It’s admirable seeing how valiant Din’s spirit shines, yet you hear how weary his soul must be like he carries so much guilt.

“There are wars you’ve fought too, Din. You should be proud of your victories. Even the ones you don’t think you should be.” Maybe it’s the fading alcohol and slow numbness of the smoke stick, but you want more than ever to just hold him.

You go to take another drag to stop yourself from doing anything reckless, but find your smoke stick is burnt to its final end.

“I don’t.. deserve such kind words. But thank you.” Din’s voice is thick, tangled in thorny emotions.

Yet underneath it all, he sounds softer and raw, like a man trying to find comfort in your words.

So you turn and see his striking dark T visor gaze on you.

A moment passes where it’s just you and him under the night sky, staring at each other.

“No matter what path you took, I'm glad you’re here.” You earnestly tell him.

In such a short amount of time this mandalorian has reawakened something in you and takes up such a large part of your heart.

“Me too.” Din mutters, nodding.

Another x-wing lands outside steals your attention away as the engines break the quiet night air.

“Always been curious to how they fly.” Din suddenly comments sounding intrigued.

“You wanna see?”

He turns to you, helmet tilted incredulous and challenging.

“Come on,” so you challenge him back with a toothy grin.

Immediately Din follows behind you, footsteps quick yet terrifying agile.

The hanger sits in eerie stillness this time of night.

“Should we even be here?” Din asks low, a bit cautious.

“Didn’t take you as a ‘by the books’ guy, Mando.” You use the common name everyone calls him as a tease.

“Only when it comes to my employer.” He replies unamused.

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.” You wave him off and he continues following you further into the dark hanger.

He doesn’t know it, but this place, especially for pilots, is an infamous makeout spot. You try not to think about that too much.

There you arrive at your x-wing.

“Hop in,” you nudge him towards the ladder.

“What?” Din sounding so boyish and confused makes you laugh.

“Get in,” you urge.

Sighing defeated he climbs up the ladder to the cockpit and you follow. You look away trying not to stare at his cute ass.

“Can we even fit in this?”

“X-wings are capable of holding various types and sizes of pilots. We are not the empire, thank you very much,” you proudly declare.

The hatch opens, and Din jumps in. The dashboard and control panel light up as he takes a seat in your chair.

Your throat goes dry seeing him sit in the same pilot seat you fly in.

“Throttle, control stick,” he points out immediately.

As much room as you have, it is cramped standing up. So you curl to the side, closer to him, but keep your eyes on the control monitor.

“It’s got a good radar system.” Din comments admiring the monitor too.

You rattle on about how these are the upgraded models everyone got after the war. The original ones you used during the rebellion are classic, but the upgrades were warmly welcomed.

“Sorry, this all must sound boring.” You weakly laugh.

“It’s not. Tell me more.” He reassures.

You’re about to until you hear commotion around the hanger.

So, quickly you scramble up and around to slide into the seat -

Right between the V of Din’s legs.

You crouch low and drag him down too.

“Wh…what are you-”

“Shh…” you shush him. “Have to lie low just in case.”

“So we should leave.” Din urges urgent.

“We’re fine.” You reassure him now.

The commotion you thought you heard passes by, and silence returns.

You exhale a bit relieved, moving to sit up. Then you grin at him from over your shoulder.

“See… told you we’d be fine.”

He stays quiet.

It hits you. Maybe you upset him or crossed a line being this close. Though you aren’t fully pressed up against his chest, the position is still intimate. You’re literally between his legs.

You want to apologize, especially now that the courage fades away fast.

But all you can think about is how stunning Din is, how gorgeous he looks here in your ship.

“One day you should fly it.” You truthfully blurt out while staring at him.

“Don’t think Ward would let me.” He stiffly replies.

“I would.” You immediately counter.

“Plus you look good in here...” Then you realize what you just admitted.

So you try to recover fast.

“Knowing your skills, if you had been with us during the rebellion days, you would’ve fit in just fine. Probably would’ve even been half as good as me.” You add hastily, half joking, hoping he doesn’t linger on anything you said before.

You now glance away to check out the window. The hanger is thankfully still empty.

Then Din suddenly softly breathes your name.

You’ve never heard it sound so holy and raw that it rips you wide open. You completely shift around to glance at him in the lowly light cockpit.

“How inebriated are you?” He asks husky, thick.

“I could recite the entire radar flight plan chart we made for Endor.” You tell him completely wide awake now. Every part of you feels like a live wire completely focused on this man.

His low weak chuckle makes your stomach flip in the best way.

Din exhales, breathy and deep.

You don’t want to over step, don’t want to ruin this. So you patiently wait, hoping he makes the first move.

Feeling his arms slide around yours, tentative but curious, you’re galvanized.

Immediately you rise and twist around to fully stare down at him. Looking at Din for a moment, here in the cockpit of your ship, you want to burn this image into your memory. Want to consecrate this in a way you never may do with anyone else again.

You rest your legs on either side of his, caging him in then you settle down onto his lap.

The soft low noise Din makes is music to your ears.

He says your name, but it sounds more like a warning.

“I want this… I want you.” You tell him, finally admitting the words out loud.

Then, you grind down on his lap, straddling him, and immediately pleasure floods into your system.

Din groans, and it spurs you on instantly.

Frustrated that you’re still in your damn flight suit, you unzip the top, slide off the jacket, and exhale feeling the coolness reach your skin. Sliding your hands up to his shoulders you whisper his name.

Then you grind against the bulge in Din’s pants pressing into you, and your mind goes foggy.

But not foggy enough that you notice Din remains still.

Everything collides into you with a halting stop. What if he doesn’t want this?

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” You halt your movements and apologize composed as you can. Awkwardly you lift yourself off of him.

“No I-” Din starts, but then stops himself.

You settle back down on him but this time further back on his thighs.

“Do you… not want to do this?” You ask cautiously. “Because it’s okay if you don’t.”

It’s okay if you don’t want me, is what you actually want to say. But you’re not brave enough for that, no matter how many empire ships you’ve shot down.

“No.” Din noisily exhales frustrated.

His hands go to rest on your thighs. His head falls forward, crestfallen.

“I want this, want you. Just afraid I won’t be able to stop.” He admits weak.

“You don’t have to stop… I don’t want you to.” You admit, soft and greedy, deciding not to hold back now.

Here in your ship, you think maybe he’s become your prey, trapped in your spiderweb. But then his helmet ever so slightly tilts up to you. Under the watch of his unflinching visor, you now feel like a prey caught within a hunter’s gaze.

His heavy breathing grows stronger and reignites something in you.

“Din,” You mutter his name, and he lets out a strained curse.

“I think about you… too much.” Din reveals like it’s a painful truth, as if the words hurt to say.

“I think about you all the time.” The truth leaves you effortlessly now.

“Wonder about what color your eyes are,” You decide to be the brave rebellion pilot you are.

“If you and the baby are safe, eating well,” you add, and he chuckles breathily.

“I think about how brave you are and how… lucky I am to know you,” you continue feeling molten and sentimental now.

Din says your name again, this time tender, and it almost causes you to falter.

So you lean closer to his helmet.

“I think about how handsome you are… imagine your cock inside me.” You mutter and hearing the words aloud feels too much.

But then his strong hands dig into your thighs and slide you on his lap fully, dragging you across his clothed cock.

How strong he pulled you, the fast friction draws a whine from you.

“Yeah?” He growls and leans his helmet directly against your face. The cool beskar touching your skin is heavenly.

“Yeah.” You moan, and your hips begin their rhythm again.

This time it’s not just you moving. Din finally grinds up into you, and you see stars. Your underwear sticks to your sticky core, but you don’t care.

Not when you and Din rut against each other and his hands chart a path all over you. One hand slides up to your neck, anchoring you close to him. The other moves to your back, sliding up to bunch your tank top in his grasp.

It’s too hot now, and you’re wearing too many clothes.

So you weakly draw away from his hold to reach up and yank your top off.

Then you wiggle the last bit of the jump suit off, trying to let your hips and legs be free. But it’s hard.

Din even chuckles at your struggle, and you shoot him a look, annoyed. Patiently, he helps slide the material down until it pools down your legs.

Now you’re simply in your underwear, completely bare before him.

The sensation of his gloved hands running up your stomach, across your back, reverently taking in every inch of your bare soft skin, it melts you.

“Beautiful,” Din breathes in awe.

Then one of his gloved hands crawls up to knead your breast in his grasp, pinching your nipple. Your head falls back, and your hips return to seek relief. Grinding against him without the jumpsuit, the friction is so much stronger, a delicious undercurrent making you want more.

“Din,” You sob, feeling the pleasure build fast.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper quickly getting drunk on him.

He cusses again sharp, dragging you harder against his clothed cock.

A loss comes when his hands leave your body, but wearily your eyes open once you feel him move to his pant buckle. Eagerly you join in to help.

His cock in your hand is warm. He’s thick, delicious in size. He’s already leaking, and possessed by something raw you lean down to lightly spit on his cock. Din groans so loud you think it rattles your bones.

Stroking his cock slow, you love feeling his mess mix with your spit.

He quickly hisses your name.

“Inside now,” he urges, a desperate man. Clutching at your hips hard, he practically draws you up.

Who are you to deny your mandalorian?

He helps slide off your stick underwear, now fully bare.

Before you sink down on him, you lean closer to his helmet.

You don’t have to say anything. You simply look at him, a final reassurance to see if he wants this the way you want him.

A gloved hand curls up to your face, cradling your sweaty face, stroking your cheek. His touch is fond, and it rocks you more than anything.

He nods firm, so sure.

So you sink down on him, guiding him into you. Both you and him moan and the world implodes in the most beautiful way.

When you were younger and around the veteran pilots, they used to share tales of how they’d christen their ships. Back then, you couldn’t imagine bringing anyone into this sacred space to do that.

Now you don’t want Din to leave it.

A fervid raw desperation has you clinging to him, Din touches you so protectively, keeping you close. His hands clutch you firm, like he’s worried you could fly away from him at any moment.

Needing to be closer, you curl against his neck. You ache to kiss his skin. But the smell of gunpowder, of something beautifully musky, purely Din, floods your mind and makes your mouth water.

His pace grows sloppy, and you feel it coming too.

“Where?” He slurs urgently.

“Inside, got the implant,” you mutter half dazed, but when you feel his cock twitch inside you moan embarrassingly loud.

“Inside Din please please please.” You now beg, wanting to feel him so badly.

“Not until you come first, wanna feel you.” Din demands growling back, and it pushes you over the edge.

Your climax knocks you into another realm. You’re floating. Din follows you over not long after with the deepest groan.

His warmth fills you, even feel it leaking out, causing you to whimper so content.

Exhausted you flop against his chest loving the cool press of his armor against your bare skin. Then a part of you hisses to pull away. Until Din’s helmet gently leans to rest against your head, and his gloved fingers tenderly stroke your back keeping you in place.

“So… you ever done that before in here?” Din asks, partially joking but still curious.

You shake your head no.

“You’re the only one.” You reveal.

His hand tracing across your skin suddenly stops. Then it fully draws across you to draw you closer to him in a soft like embrace.

An aching adoration for this man cements itself into you. It’s now etched into your heart and now your ship. Maybe the two are the same.

After this night, you find him everywhere now.

Anytime he or you return back from a mission, one seeks the other out.

Din and Grogu now even rest in your quarters.

The lodging here is small, but it’s become your makeshift home. Grogu snuggles up warm among the blanket pile you’ve made for him on the extra cot. And Din sleeps beside you in your bed.

You believed it was something sacred to know a mandalorian, but you realize it’s a true honor to find one seeking rest beside you.

Bathed in the moonlight leaking into your room, you and Din stare at each other lying side by side.

You wish he could relax more, maybe take off his armor.

But remaining helmeted, you understand his creed and don’t want to push. It’s just a small piece of you being selfish and wanting to see him.

“What’s wrong?” He notices your silence.

“I wish I could make this more comfortable for you.” Is the best way you can tell him.

He chuckles.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

To even prove it he settles deeper among the pillows sliding closer to you.

“Nicer than the cot that I have on Nevarro.”

You almost laugh. He’s so endearing sometimes and doesn’t even realize it.

But you’re reminded he does have a home.

“What’s your place like on Nevarro?” You ask about it.

“It’s good, simple.” Such a boring classic Din answer.

“Maybe… one day you can see it.” That addition he makes has your heart racing.

“Yeah, I’d like that” you nod, grateful for the offer.

Slowly your eyes close on their own now.

“Brown,” until suddenly he blurts out a random color.

Wearily opening your eyes blinking at him a bit confused.

“My eyes… they’re brown.” He reveals.

A soft grateful smile warms your face as you thank him.

You fall asleep beside him, wondering about his home, what it would be like to wake up and see his beautiful brown eyes.

But those daydreams get shoved away fast.

Missions begin piling up. The empire trash is getting sneakier, working faster in the shadows. It keeps everyone busy. You barely see Din. When you do the exchanges are brief, simple glances or even short catch ups.

Ward eyes you and Din suspicious but of course aware.

Approaching Din you try avoiding the colonel’s gaze as she leaves.

That’s when you spot the ship that flew in yesterday.

“You wanted… this hunk of junk?” You dubiously stare at the razor crest. This is the beloved ship Din apparently had been searching high and low for.

“She flies better than she looks.” Din defends.

Grogu excitedly waddles up the ramp eager to be inside the old ship.

You still eye the gunship worried about how good she can protect the cargo she’ll soon be carrying.

“Might not be a x-wing, but I trust this ship with my life.” Din senses your apprehension.

You give him a soft elbow nudge that barely makes his budge. But he playfully nudges you back, and a grin tugs at your lips.

“Ugh,” Zeb groans with faux disgust seeing you and Din. You roll your eyes.

“You know, I notice with all the markings… this ship looks like it could fit in with a gold squadron.” You tell Zeb nudging your chin towards the paint.

He barks a laugh.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight. This piece of junk flying with us?” Zeb muses.

“I don’t know…I think the crest would fight right in.” You shrug, fond.

“Yeah? Think we could get Mando in a uniform?” Zeb adds and Din flat out shuts that down with a hard no.

It makes you and Zeb snicker.

Now you head in to examine the ship yourself and look around. The older metal, the antique design and layout, it really doesn’t ease your apprehension, but you trust Din.

“Your beskar boy has shit taste picking a ship like this.” Zed snorts heading up to the cockpit.

“Shut up.” You practically hiss at him.

But he leaves you and Din alone.

It’s hard to navigate this strange space lingering between you and him, as if neither you or him know how to move.

So you decide to be brave. You grab his hand and squeeze it.

“Be safe,” you nod to the mandalorian.

He quietly nods back, gathering your hand in his. He squeezes back just as firm.

You head out of the razor crest and into the bright afternoon sun. From the cockpit window you spot your boys. Din nods a farewell, and Grogu spotting you waves down from the control panel. In his grasp is your silly little monster charm.

Not moving from your spot, you keep your eyes on the ship until it fades into the jump of hyperspeed.

You don’t hear from Din for half a month.

It’s nothing new. You’re had months where missions kept you both busy. And from how displeased she was with the last mission, Ward apparently has him working on something fierce.

Then another week passes, and you’re sent on a protective mission to Chandrilla.

It takes your full attention. But the entire time your mind is on Din. Are he and Grogu safe? Is everything going okay?

“You must be in love.” The Senator you’re escorting on the mission says suddenly. Embarrassment floods you fast.

“I’m sorry?” You ask slightly confused.

He smiles at you kindly.

“You’ve been sighing, seem distant. Like a heroine kept away from a lover.”

Shit.

“I apologize. I promised I’m focused.” You reassure him, and the senator laughs.

“It’s fine, my dear,” he reassures, then leans in eagerly. “So tell me about the lucky person.”

Now here you are telling this Senator about your awful admiration for the mandalorian.

“Oh, a mandalorian.” He whispers in awe. “They’re a rare kind. He must be quite a sight.”

He is. But he’s more than that.

He’s kind and unbelievingly sharp. Strikingly powerful, and unwaveringly supportive. There’s a compassion that walks hand in hand with Din’s firm courage.

“Oh you got it bad,” the Senator laughs.

It’s unfortunately true.

How fast and quickly this mandalorian has disarmed you, but what else would you have expected from a warrior like him? Maybe you were doomed from the start to fight against feelings for such a fierce conqueror.

The thoughts of him keep you going through the mission.

Arriving at base camp, you instead find there’s already commotion.

Din has returned, but he’s not alone.

Jabba’s son, Rotta the Hutt, is with him.

At least Din and the baby are safe.

Standing off overlooking the beach, Din patiently watches Grogu play among the beach waves with the young Hutt.

“So, looks like you’ve been busy.” You say moving to his side.

“Tell me about it.” He sighs.

The rundown he gives you is surface level, getting tied up among the Hutt twins while trying to search for the infamous Commander Coin.

“Things might get hairy soon. I’m heading back to Nevarro to lie low for a while.”

His somber tone says more looms.

“Din…” you mutter cautiously.

He turns to you.

“If you’re in any danger…know that I want to help.” You urge, hoping he’ll tell you more.

“I know.” He nods, yet says nothing more.

Please, your heart begs, please let me stay by your side and fight with you.

But you know fighting against this adamant man is a losing battle. So you sigh and reach down to your belt.

The charm you have on today is your favorite, and you hand it to him.

“Remember to bring it back to me.” You can’t even look at him because your eyes suddenly feel like they could spill over a river of tears.

His gloved hand cradles your face, letting you fully look at him.

“We’ll be fine.” His voice soothes you steeled with resolution.

You nod, fighting harder against tears.

Then Din leans down. He presses his helmet against your forehead. You close your eyes and lean into the cool beskar.

With a goodbye hug to Grogu, you tell the sweet little soul to keep an eye on his dad.

This time, you don’t have the strength to watch them leave.

You throw yourself into any available mission.

Ward must sense why you’re doing this and in a punishment of sorts, she instead sticks you on filing reports.

“Mando will be fine,” Teva tries to reassure you.

You hope he will be. Days pass and you try to settle into a routine.

But then a group of Anzellans arrive in a panic. You’d been working on your ship when they landed.

Currently they rapidly relay a message to Ward. She patiently tries to listen to all of their worried voices.

“What’s going on?” You ask Wolf.

“Apparently Mando and the kid are stuck on Nal Hutta… don’t think it’s looking good.” He mutters back somber.

Absolute dread is unleashed in you.

You don’t realize you’re moving until you’re standing right before the colonel.

“Let me join the rescue strike.” You urge.

Ward turns to you, then sighs, even says your name a bit heartbroken. That says enough.

“Are we really considering not going?!” Your voice raises, shocked and upset.

“It’s not that simple.” Ward, calm and composed, tries to clarify, but just hearing that line feels like an alarm goes off in your head.

“What isn’t simple?! He’s one of us. We have to rescue them.” You argue back harder.

“There are protocols. And with the intel and alliance we’ve tried establishing with the Hutts we can’t just strike in, ranger.” Ward sharply explains, putting you in your place.

Anger burns through your veins.

“She’s right, colonel…” Teva suddenly speaks up.

“Mando is one of us.” He agrees with you.

More Delphi officers stand up.

Before Ward can even say anything, you turn on your heels and head out of the hanger zipping up your flight suit.

You don’t care if this will get you in trouble, hell even dishonorably discharged. Din needs you. Grogu needs you.

Then you hear a few others arrive in the hangar.

Ward calls out your name. This is it.

Turning towards her, you ready yourself to accept whatever punishment. Yet, you instead see your commander in her flight suit as well. Your eyes can’t help but widen.

She sighs yet gives you a half grin, understanding.

“I should sit you out on this mission.”

“I know. I’ve accepted that I’ll be doing reports for the rest of the year.” You sleepily shrug.

Her smirks grows bigger.

“Try two years,” she says heading to her ship.

You’ll happily accept that too.

The twin’s palace is heavily guarded, and it’s a true dogfight on Nal Hutta.

Then Din’s voice electrifies the coms as he reports in with Colonel Ward. Absolute relief blooms in your chest, and you feel like crying. He’s alive.

Now you fly harder and faster than you ever have. It reminds you of Endor. That final battle all you thought of was the hope right before your eyes, knowing something precious was so close and needed to be defended.

That’s what this feels like.

You manage to knock out a few droid ships, but the main focus is on the palace.

Yet Din remains inside.

And Ward gives the command to light the place up.

“Get out of there. Please.” You whisper out loud or maybe to the force itself.

Then, the stronghold goes under flames.

You and the others circle around, flying out of the line of fire from the explosion. Yet your stomach stays in knots.

“Anyone got eyes on Mando?” Wolf asks before you can.

Out from the smoke, there among the water below, you spot them. Your boys are alive.

A watery relieved laugh escapes you as you blink away the tears.

“Go pick up the trash, Zeb.” Ward jokes, and you can’t even be mad.

Knowing they’re safe is all that matters.

Vibrating with so much emotion, you land besides Zeb’s ship hoping to see them.

But Ward of course arrives first.

You instead idle by your x-wing, pretending to be checking your engines. Ward tells him the truth about the Hutts that even you didn’t know. So that’s why she finally agreed to go.

“And… we don’t leave our own behind.” Her words resound within you.

Din deflects, saying how he’s not with the New Republic.

“Sure you aren’t Mando, sure you aren’t.” She says.

“If you aren't one of us… Who do you think helped convince us to come?”

Ward’s insinuating tone shoots a shock up your spine.

You keep your gaze on your ship, refusing to even look their way. Focusing on mindlessly keeping busy, you don’t notice footsteps approaching until you move out from under the wing. There Din stands waiting.

He’s here.

Grogu cries gleefully, and your attention turns to him. You eagerly accept him into your arms hugging him tight.

“I’m so proud of you. You must have been so brave, my little ranger.” You even press a kiss to his fuzzy head, addressing him as the courageous officer he is.

The baby coos back fond, embracing you with his sweet but sturdy little arms.

While he’s still in your hold, your eyes open to find Din.

He stares unwavering at you, and your eyes water again.

“Welcome back,” you croak out.

Din nods, then, he raises up your favorite charm you gave him.

“Had to bring this back.”

With a watery laugh, you shake your head.

“Your dad is so silly,” you half whisper to Grogu who giggles, agreeing.

A sigh leaves Din but, in a few steps, he walks towards you.

Then you and Grogu are gathered into his embrace. You immediately wrap one of your arms around Din.

“Thank you… for coming for us.” Din’s voice is gentle, grateful.

“Always.” You answer back with a resounding truth.

Your job is tied here, and you might fly for the sake of the New Republic. But you believe your true wings, your heart’s flight navigation, now will always include a path for and to Din Djarin.

Currently he chats with Rotta, from what you heard might be staying here too.

Once you head into the mess hall Ward calls your name. With a patient knowing grin, she holds out the datapad with the promise of the paperwork you knew would be waiting for you.

Logging in with your chain link, a new message suddenly chimes onto the monitor from an unknown contact.

It contains a coordinates location to Nevarro along with a single message attached.

Stop by whenever, we’ll be waiting

Quickly, you start the reports happily accepting your punishment.

PART 9 - THE CRACK

Joel slept light. Always had. Years of early mornings, job sites, and a kid who used to wake at ungodly hours had wired it into him permanently. Even now, with the house quiet and the day behind him, some part of his mind stayed half-alert.

But tonight… he was out.

You lay tucked against him, warm and familiar, your back pressed into his chest, his arm heavy around your waist. The fan hummed softly overhead. The faint glow of the alarm clock painted the room in dim red numbers.

His nose was buried lightly in your hair, breathing slow, steady. One leg tangled with yours beneath the sheets. The kind of sleep that only came when everything felt right.

Then the phone rang. It cut through the dark like a blade.

Joel jerked awake instantly, heart slamming hard against his ribs before his brain caught up. For half a second he didn’t know where he was. Then the room settled back into focus. You shifted in his arms with a soft, disoriented sound.

The phone kept ringing. Nightstand. His side. Joel groaned under his breath and reached blindly, fumbling until his hand closed around it. The screen lit up harsh and bright in the dark.

He went still. Every muscle in his body tightened at once.

You felt it immediately. You pushed up onto one elbow beside him, hair mussed, voice thick with sleep. “…Joel?”

He swallowed once and answered.

“Yeah.”

The voice on the other end was professional. Flat. Tired in that middle-of-the-night way.

“Is this Joel Miller?”

His grip on the phone tightened. “Yeah.”

“Sir, this is officer Davidson with the Austin Police Department. We have a Thomas Miller here at central booking requesting you come down. There’s been an incident this evening. He’s being held pending possible charges. He asked that you be notified.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly. Of course. Of fucking course.

“…He hurt?” Joel asked, voice already rough.

A small pause. Papers shuffling on the other end.

“He’s been involved in an altercation. Some visible injuries. Nothing life-threatening as far as we can tell.”

Joel sat up fully now, already swinging his legs off the bed. You pushed yourself upright beside him, fully awake now, reading his face before he even spoke.

“Yeah,” Joel muttered into the phone. “Alright. I’m comin’.”

Another pause. Then the officer added, almost casually:

“Sir, I’d advise you bring legal counsel. The other party is likely pressing charges. If Mr. Miller doesn’t retain representation, one will be assigned but he’ll have to wait here until tomorrow morning.”

Joel’s jaw set. “Yeah. Got it.”

He hung up before the man could say anything else.

The room went quiet again except for the faint hum of the fan. You watched him in the dark.

“…Tommy?”

Joel scrubbed a hand down his face hard. “Yeah.”

He stood, already reaching for his jeans on the chair. Movements clipped. Efficient. Angry under the surface in that tight, controlled way you’d learned to recognize.

“What happened?”

“Bar fight, sounds like.” His voice was flat. “He’s at county. They’re talkin’ charges. Shit.”

You absorbed that quickly. Fully awake now.

“Did they tell you to bring a lawyer.”

Joel paused halfway through pulling on his shirt and looked at you.

“…Yeah.”

The look that crossed your face then wasn’t sleepy or confused anymore. It sharpened. Focused. Something cool and precise sliding into place behind your eyes.

“Okay,” you said simply.

Joel blinked once. “Okay what.”

“I’m coming.”

He shook his head immediately. “You don’t gotta-”

“I know.” You stood and reached for clothes in the dim light, already moving. “I’m coming anyway.”

There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in your tone.

Joel watched you for a second, jaw tight.

“…Juliet.”

You pulled on a sweater, fingers quick but steady. “They said to bring a lawyer, Joel, I’m a lawyer.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose. Couldn’t argue with that. Didn’t really want to.

“…Alright,” he muttered.

Then his eyes flicked toward the hallway automatically. Toward Sarah’s room. Both of you stilled. You couldn’t just leave her.

You caught the look and nodded once. Already thinking ahead. “I’m calling my Mom.”

Joel hesitated. Shame flickering across his face before he could hide it. It was past two in the morning. Calling Annie for this… Christ.

You touched his arm lightly. “She won’t mind.”

He huffed under his breath. “Still.”

“Joel.”

He met your eyes. Saw no judgment there. None. Just calm certainty.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “Alright.”

You grabbed yout phone and stepped into the hallway to make the call while he pulled on his boots. He could hear your voice low and soft in the kitchen, explaining just enough. Apologizing even though you didn’t need to.

Annie must’ve agreed immediately, because you came back less than a minute later already tying your hair up.

“She’s on her way.”

Joel nodded once. Relief and embarrassment twisting together in his chest.

You moved around each other in quiet efficiency; grabbing keys, wallets, jackets. The house felt different now. Too bright. Too awake for the hour.

Within fifteen minutes, headlights swept across the front windows. Joel opened the door before Annie even knocked.

She stepped inside in a cardigan thrown over sleep clothes, hair hastily pulled back, expression alert but calm. Her eyes went first to you, then to Joel.

“Is he alright?” she asked gently.

“Yeah,” Joel said. “Just… in some trouble.”

She nodded once like that told her everything she needed to know.

“I’ll stay with Sarah,” she said simply. “Don’t you worry about anything here.”

Joel rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, suddenly feeling about seventeen instead of a grown man.

“…I’m sorry. Wakin’ you up like this.”

Annie’s expression softened.

“Joel,” she said quietly. “Don’t you dare apologize to me, we are family.”

It settled heavier than she probably realized.

He swallowed once and nodded. “Thank you.”

She squeezed his arm briefly. Warm. Steady. No judgment.

“Go,” she said.

You grabbed your bag. Joel grabbed the truck keys. The night air hit cool and sharp as you stepped outside together. By the time you pulled away from the curb, the house lights were already dimming again behind you.

You drove through the empty Austin streets toward the sheriff’s station. Toward Tommy.

********

The station was colder than it needed to be. Fluorescent lights. Pale tile. The kind of place designed to make people feel small and tired.

Joel pushed through the glass doors first. You right beside him. The deputy at the desk looked up, mildly annoyed at 2:42 AM.

“Thomas Miller,” Joel said.

The deputy typed something slowly.

“Yeah. Holding.”

You stepped forward half a pace. Calm. Polite. Controlled.

“I’m counsel,” you said. “Juliet Harper.”

The deputy’s eyebrows flicked up briefly at that, but he didn’t comment.

“Other party pressed charges,” he said. “Assault causing bodily injury.”

Your voice stayed level. “Has my client been formally charged?”

“Pending.”

“Has he been read his rights?”

A pause. “Yes.”

“Has he signed anything?”

“No.”

“Has he been medically evaluated?”

Another pause. “He declined.”

You didn’t blink.

“He declined, or he wasn’t offered?”

The deputy’s jaw tightened slightly. “Ma’am-”

Joel felt it shift right there. The temperature of the room. You didn’t raise your voice. Didn’t sharpen your tone. You just held the man’s eyes steadily.

“I’ve been told my client has visible head trauma,” you said calmly. “If he was not properly offered medical evaluation, that becomes an issue.”

Silence.

The deputy cleared his throat. “He was treated on site.”

“By whom?”

“EMS.”

“Documented?”

Another pause. Joel saw it. The crack.

You nodded once. 

“We’d like to see him.”

They led you to a holding room.

Tommy was sitting on a bench behind a half-door barrier this time. Not just waiting. Processed.

His lip was split. One eye swollen almost shut. Dried blood at his temple. Shirt torn at the collar.

Joel stopped dead for half a second. You didn’t.

You walked straight up to the barrier and crouched slightly to see him at eye level.

“Who hit first?” you asked.

Tommy blinked. “Hi to you too.”

“Tommy.”

He looked at Joel briefly, then back at you.

“He swung first,” he muttered. “I finished it.”

You inhaled slowly.

“Witnesses?”

Tommy shrugged. Winced. “Bouncer saw it. And plenty other customers. Place was packed”

You stood and turned back toward the deputy.

“Was the other individual detained?”

“He was treated and released.”

You tilted your head slightly.

“Released.”

“Yes.”

“Despite initiating the physical altercation?”

The deputy shifted his weight. “Ma’am, the other individual retained counsel immediately.”

Joel felt something hot and ugly rise in his chest.

Your tone changed, not louder, but colder.

“So let me clarify. Two men fight. One has visible injuries. One hires a private attorney quickly. The one with representation is released. The other is detained.”

The deputy stiffened. “That’s not-”

“Was there a field sobriety test administered to both parties?”

Silence. Your eyes didn’t move.

“Were statements taken from both parties before detention?”

Another pause.

Joel saw it now, the imbalance. Tommy hadn’t refused medical help. He hadn’t been offered properly. The other guy hadn’t been held. And now charges were being pushed.

You folded your arms loosely.

“I’ll need the incident report number,” you said. “Body cam footage confirmation. And the name of the supervising officer on duty.”

The deputy hesitated.

Joel felt a strange mix of pride and fury watching you. This wasn’t even your field of expertise. Tommy watched too, different expression on his face now. Less bravado, more awareness.

The deputy left the room.

You turned back to Tommy.

“You hit him.”

Tommy didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”

“You escalated.”

“He swung first.”

“And you escalated.”

Silence. Tommy looked down. Joel stepped forward finally. Voice low.

“Christ, Tommy.”

Tommy’s jaw flexed.

“He was mouthing off.”

“And?” Joel snapped. “That new?”

You lifted a hand slightly without looking at either of them. Enough.

You looked back at Tommy.

“You’re being charged because the other man’s lawyer pushed for it before you had representation. That’s what happened.”

Tommy let out a slow breath.

“…Thank-”

You turned so fast he flinched.

“Don’t.”

Your voice wasn’t loud. It was worse. It was tight. Controlled. Furious.

“Don’t you dare thank me,” you said, eyes locked on his. “I am so incredibly mad at you right now.”

The room went still. Tommy blinked. Joel didn’t interfere. You stepped closer to the barrier.

“You scared us,” you said, nodding toward Joel. “You woke us up at two in the morning. My mom is at our house with Sarah. Because you were drunk and wouldn’t walk away.”

Tommy’s face shifted slightly at that.

“And now,” you continued, voice steady but sharp, “I’m standing in a police station at three a.m. pointing out procedural errors so you don’t end up with a record because someone with better connections moved faster than you.”

You held his gaze a moment longer. Not softening. Not letting him hide in jokes or apologies.

Then you exhaled slowly and shifted back into something cooler. Controlled. Professional.

“Alright,” you said. “Listen carefully.”

Tommy straightened a little on the bench without meaning to. Even bruised and half-drunk, he recognized that tone.

“You are not being formally charged tonight,” you continued. “They’re holding you pending review because the other party filed first and retained private counsel. That gave him priority.”

Tommy frowned. “So what-”

“So,” you cut in calmly, “we fix the order of things.”

You turned slightly as the deputy came back into the room with a thin file and a tablet. He handed it over with visible reluctance.

You skimmed it quickly. Efficient. Focused. Joel watched your eyes move line by line. Watched the moment you found what you needed.

There. You looked up.

“My client will not be held,” you said evenly. “There’s insufficient cause for detention.”

The deputy’s mouth tightened. “Ma’am, he was involved in-”

“In a mutual altercation,” you replied smoothly. “Where the initiating party has already been released. Without a field sobriety test administered to both individuals. Without documented medical evaluation for my client despite visible injury. And without witness statements attached to justify selective detention.”

Silence. 

You set the tablet down gently on the counter between you.

“If you’d like to continue holding him,” you added politely, “we can escalate that conversation to your supervising officer and the county desk. I’m happy to make that call.”

Joel almost smiled.

The deputy exhaled slowly through his nose.

“…One moment,” he muttered, and left again.

Tommy watched you like you’d just performed a magic trick. Joel stayed quiet.

A few minutes passed. Low voices somewhere down the hall. A door opening. Closing. Then the deputy returned, different posture this time.

“Mr. Miller will be released pending review,” he said stiffly. “No bail required.”

Tommy blinked. “Just like that?”

You didn’t even look at him.

“It’s not ‘just like that,’” you said calmly. “You got lucky there isn’t sufficient legal ground to hold you.”

Paperwork was placed on the counter. You reviewed it line by line before sliding it back.

“Sign here,” the deputy told Tommy.

He did.

Five minutes later, you were walking out. Just like that. Except not really.

The night air hit you cool and quiet when the station doors closed behind you. Tommy stood on the curb for a second like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he was free.

Joel stayed a step away. Arms crossed. Not touching him.

You stood between them, bag over your shoulder, posture still straight but the tension in it finally showing around the edges.

Tommy glanced at you.

“…So,” he started carefully.

You didn’t look at him.

“You’ll have a court date coming,” you said flatly. “They’ll review statements and decide whether to pursue charges formally. I’ll handle it. You will not talk to anyone about this without me present. You will not return to that bar. You will not contact the other party. Understood?”

Tommy nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

You finally looked at him then. Still angry. But steadier.

“Good.”

Joel stepped forward.

“Get in the truck.”

Tommy obeyed without a word.

The drive back was quiet. Heavy. But quieter than the ones before. And when you pulled up outside Tommy’s apartment, he hesitated before getting out.

Looked at Joel. Then at you. Didn’t try to joke this time. Didn’t try to charm. Just a rough, quiet:

“…Night.”

He got out. Closed the door gently.

Joel watched him go inside without moving. Then he leaned back in his seat and scrubbed a hand over his face hard.

“…Jesus,” he muttered.

You sat beside him, finally letting some of the steel drop from your shoulders.

“He’s okay,” you said quietly. “Tonight.”

Joel nodded once. Still staring ahead. After a moment, he reached across the console and took your hand. Squeezed it tight.

Didn’t say anything else. Didn’t need to.

*********

Tommy got lucky. Again.

Two days after you filed the paperwork and made three very pointed phone calls that left a junior assistant district attorney audibly sweating, the other party decided not to press charges.

Official reason: insufficient grounds.

Real reason: messy mutual fight, bad optics, and a lawyer who clearly wasn’t in the mood to play.

Case dropped. No record. No court. Clean. Too clean.

Joel didn’t say much when you told him. Just nodded once.

“Good.”

But the tightness in his shoulders never really left. It sat there for days. 

Tommy kept his distance more than usual. Still showed up around the house, still stopped by after work sometimes, still brought Sarah candy he pretended not to have bought specifically for her.

But something between the brothers had shifted.

Joel wasn’t yelling. Wasn’t picking fights. He just… wasn’t letting anything slide.

Every joke landed flat. Every deflection got ignored. Every attempt Tommy made to turn things into ‘no big deal’ died on contact.

You saw it. Felt it. Didn’t interfere… yet.

A week later, Tommy showed up for dinner like nothing happened.No call. No warning. Just the familiar knock and the sound of the back door opening before anyone could answer.

“Smells illegal in here,” he announced, stepping inside like he payed part of the mortgage. “You make enough for one more?”

Joel didn’t even turn from the stove.

“…Tommy.”

“What.”

“…We’re eatin’.”

Tommy paused halfway to the cabinet. Looked at the table. Plates already set. Sarah in her chair swinging her legs. You pouring iced tea.

“Okay,” he said.

He grabbed a plate and served himself like nothing had happened and dropped into the empty chair at the table with a satisfied sigh.

“Long day, huh?” he said, reaching for the bread.

Joel set the pan down harder than necessary.

“Then go home and eat,” he said flatly.

Sarah’s fork paused halfway to her mouth.

Tommy blinked. “I just got here.”

“Yeah,” Joel said. “I noticed.”

You set the pitcher down carefully. Very carefully.

“Joel-”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel went on, not raising his voice but somehow making it worse. “Man could call first. Maybe check if we’re busy.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair slightly, posture shifting.

“Didn’t realize I needed an appointment,” he said, light but edged.

“Common courtesy ain’t an appointment.”

“Alright,” Tommy said, holding up one hand. “My bad. I’m here now.”

Joel let out a humorless breath through his nose and finally sat down across from him.

Dinner started. Or tried to.

For about thirty minutes, it was normal. Sarah talked about school. You asked questions. Tommy made a comment about a teacher assigning too much homework.

Then Joel cut in.

“You been drinkin’.”

Not a question.

Tommy stilled. “No.”

Joel just looked at him.

You felt the shift before anyone spoke again.

“Had a beer after work,” Tommy added. “One.”

Joel’s jaw flexed. “Mm.”

Silence pressed down over the table.

Sarah looked between them. Then at you.

You forced a small smile. “Hey, kiddo. Why don’t you show me that drawing you were working on earlier?”

Sarah caught the tone immediately. Smart girl.

“Okay,” she said, sliding off her chair.

You stood and took her hand lightly.

“C’mon. Let’s go see it in your room.”

You left the kitchen together.

The moment Sarah’s bedroom door clicked shut upstairs…

The air snapped.

Joel pushed his chair back. “You think this is funny.”

Tommy’s fork hit the plate. “Jesus Christ, Joel-”

“No,” Joel cut in, voice low but sharp as glass. “You don’t get to ‘Jesus Christ’ me. Not after last week.”

Tommy stood too, chair scraping.

“It’s handled.”

“Handled?” Joel barked a humorless laugh. “You call that handled? You got hauled into a station at two in the mornin’.”

“And I walked out,” Tommy shot back. “No charges. No record. Done.”

“That ain’t the damn point.”

“Then what is,” Tommy demanded. “Huh? What exactly do you want from me here?”

Joel stared at him. Really stared.

“I want,” he said slowly, “to stop gettin’ calls about my brother like he’s a goddamn problem I gotta solve.”

Tommy flinched. Just barely.

“Wasn’t your problem,” he said, quieter but stubborn. “I handled it.”

Joel stepped forward.

“You didn’t handle it. My girl did,” he said, sharp and low. “Then you got fuckin’ lucky. Like you always do. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you take the fall for your own fuckin’ mess.”

Silence cracked between them.

Tommy ran a hand over the back of his neck, frustration rising. “I said it won’t happen again.”

“You always say that.”

That landed. Heavily.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “I mean it this time.”

Joel let out a slow breath that sounded almost like a laugh. But wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You always do.”

“That’s not fair,” Tommy yelled at something Joel said.

Joel let out a humorless huff. “Not fair? You wanna talk fair?”

He leaned forward, forearms on the table, voice tightening instead of rising.

“You’re pushin’ thirty, Tommy. How many times we done this? How many calls in the middle of the damn night? How many rides home? How many fuckin’ times I gotta look my kid in the eye and pretend her uncle ain’t slowly wreckin’ himself?”

Tommy’s jaw set. “I said I got it handled.”

“No,” Joel snapped. “You keep sayin’ that. You don’t ever do it.”

The words hung there. Heavy.

Tommy looked down at his plate like he might throw it, then pushed it away instead.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said quietly. “So don’t stand there actin’ like you do.”

Joel’s mouth flattened. That one always came out eventually.

“Try me,” he said.

Tommy laughed once. Short. Bitter. “You didn’t see what I saw over there.”

Joel stilled. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t rise to it. But something in his eyes hardened.

“No,” he said, voice low and steady. “I didn’t. But I see what it’s doin’ to you now.”

Tommy looked up sharply.

Joel held his gaze. Didn’t look away.

“You think I don’t get it?” Joel went on. “You think I ain’t spent the last decade watchin’ you drink and fight and run from every damn thing that gets too close? You think I don’t know what that is?”

Tommy swallowed. Hard.

“PTSD ain’t an excuse to burn your fuckin’ life down,” Joel said, not cruel, just tired. “And it damn sure ain’t an excuse to keep hurtin’ the people who gotta stand here and watch you fuckin’ kill yourself!”

Silence hit the room like a dropped weight.

Tommy pushed back from the table fully this time.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Alright.”

He didn’t look at Joel. Didn’t slam anything. Didn’t raise his voice. Just walked to the front door, grabbed his jacket, and stepped outside. The door closed behind him with a quiet, final click.

Joel stayed where he was for a second, breathing hard through his nose, hands braced on the table like he’d just finished a fight he hadn’t meant to start.

Outside, the porch boards creaked faintly as Tommy moved. Pacing. Or maybe just standing there trying to get air.

Joel scrubbed a hand down his face. He knew that silence. Knew that kind of retreat. And it didn’t feel like a win.

He went to the sink with his back turned, rinsing the same plate for longer than it needed. The house felt… tight. Like sound carried differently after yelling.

He heard your footsteps before he saw you.

“Sarah?” he asked without turning.

“On a video call with Frank,” you said softly. “He’s showing her something with the strawberries in his garden. She’s… okay.”

That eased something in Joel’s shoulders, just slightly. .

He nodded once, drying his hands slowly on a dish towel before turning around. Your face looked calm, but he knew you well enough by now to see the tension sitting just under it. The kind you wore when you were choosing your next move carefully.

You came a step closer. Not all the way. Close enough.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “Can I… talk to him?”

Joel didn’t answer right away.

Out on the porch, Tommy’s boots scraped faintly against wood as he shifted in the rocking chair. A low creak. Then stillness again.

Joel exhaled through his nose, jaw tight.

“Ain’t gonna do any good,” he muttered. Not harsh. Just tired.

“Maybe,” you said gently. “Maybe not. But I’d like to try.”

He studied you for a second. Saw the steadiness there. Not judgment. Not anger.  That mattered. Finally he nodded once toward the door.

“…Yeah,” he said. “Go on.” He went on, almost apologetic in a way he’d never say out loud: “Don’t let him bullshit you.”

You nodded once and moved toward the front door, pausing only long enough to slip yout feet into your shoes by the mat. The porch light was already on; it cast a soft amber glow across the wood outside, long shadows stretching over the yard.

Joel stayed where he was. Didn’t follow. Didn’t hover. Stood at the sink with his hands braced on the counter for a second before forcing himself to move again, picking up a glass that didn’t need washing and running water over it anyway.

The front door opened. Soft creak. Then shut behind you.

There was a moment of quiet. He could picture it without looking; Tommy out there on the old bench or leaning against the railing, shoulders hunched, head down like he always got when the anger burned off and left something heavier behind.

He heard your voice first. Calm. Low. Careful not to carry inside.

(***)

“…Hey.”

Tommy shifted. A faint scrape of boot against wood.

“Hey,” he answered, rougher than usual. Not defensive. Just… worn.

There was a small pause. The kind that came when two people stood near each other and neither quite knew how to start.

Joel hadn’t meant to listen, but the kitchen window was cracked open from earlier; to let the heat out while they cooked. And sound carried differently at night. Softer and clearer.

“…You okay?” you asked quietly.

A short huff from Tommy. Half a laugh, half something else. “That depends. You here to yell at me too?”

“No,” you said. Simple. Honest.

There was a longer pause.

Tommy shifted again, wood creaking under his weight.

“…He tell you everything?” Tommy asked.

“No,” you said gently. “Didn’t have to… You two weren’t exactly whispering.”

Silence stretched between you for a few seconds. The kind that wasn’t empty, but careful.

Joel felt it in his chest. Tight. Familiar.

“I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. If that’s okay,” you said.

Tommy let out a slow breath. The fight had gone out of him. Joel could hear that much.

“... ‘bout what,” he muttered. “How I’m the fuckin’ screwup of the family and there ain’t nothing I can do to fix it?.”

You didn’t rise to the bite in it. Didn’t rush either.

“I don’t think you’re a screwup,” you said quietly, with so much love and patience it hit Joel right in the chest.

A short, humorless breath left Tommy.

“Well,” he muttered, staring somewhere out into the dark yard, “I do.”

Silence settled between you. Not hostile. Just heavy. You let it sit. Let him hear it settle without trying to fix it too fast.

“God,” you said softly after a moment, almost to yourself. “You remind me so much of my dad sometimes, you know?”

Tommy shifted a little on the step. “That supposed to be good or bad?”

“Depends on the day.”

You huffed a quiet breath. 

“Did you know he was a vet too?” you asked.

Tommy glanced over, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You kept your voice even. “Vietnam.”

Tommy went still. The kind of still that came from recognition, not curiosity.