#din dijarn

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Miserable.

If Din Djarin could use one word to sum up the illness that was running its course through his exhausted body right now, it would be miserable. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he was actually sick. He would sustain some grueling injuries more often than not, but this was something else.

His voice was hoarse, his muscles ached profoundly, and he swore he could feel this fever down to bones. 

The Razor Crest felt remarkably humid, and Maker, all the beskar that covered Din’s body didn't help.

You’d done your best to take care of him, doting on him every chance you got, but that didn’t change how uncomfortable it was to be in a full suit of armour while he felt his absolute worst. 

You knew Din was especially stubborn, but that didn’t deter you from trying to convince him to take off the beskar.

You’d managed to keep the ship cool, turning the temperature down to the point where you were past freezing, but your comfort was the last thing on your mind.

Taking care of a certain sick Mandalorian was first. 

Trying to balance taking care of the child and doting on Din at the same time was a lot of work, but you were managing. Grogu seemed to understand that the usually menacing bounty hunter was a little under the weather right now.

Anytime you would bring Din medicine, water, soup, anything – little footsteps would follow tightly behind you. 

The child babbled at your side when you placed a bowl of warm soup by the cot, worried about his dad. 

“I know, honey,” you said softly while the child was looking up at you with his big, round eyes. His green ears tilted down slightly. “He’s not himself today, is he?” 

In response, Grogu cooed and reached up to signal that he wanted you to hold him. You obliged of course. 

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest. It was almost cute seeing Din like this. A man usually so intimidating and reserved was now reaching out for you and the child, acting like he’d just been shot as he reached for the bowl of soup. 

If you were completely honest, you liked being his medic. Especially when you had such a cute helper by your side.

You sighed, looking at the sick Mandalorian.

“That bad, huh?”

He groaned in response.

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew that behind his helmet, he couldn't have been smiling.

“Let’s let dad eat and rest, okay little one?” you said to the child in your arms. He made a small noise in agreement, and you grabbed a thin blanket before the two of you made your way outside. 

Din had set the Razor Crest down in a quiet, forgotten stretch of space on a planet with no name that mattered since the two of you were in between traveling when he’d gotten sick.

It was beautiful here. Wide, open fields of grass and meadows. The wind was crisp and there was a river that quietly rippled nearby. A beautiful planet that was so peaceful and full of life. 

As you wrapped the blanket around yourself, you watched the child play in the grass and wobble around. You smiled to yourself at the sight, your heart feeling warm again. You’d imagined a life like this before:

Just you, Din, and the child living a peaceful, quiet life off the grid.

You had a feeling it may have crossed Din's mind, too.

Grogu made a happy noise snapping you out of your thoughts as you watched him pick up little things such as flowers and pebbles with the force. A small laugh escaped your lips.

“Good job, little guy!”

The child made more noises of excitement and happiness, and you felt complete. The only thing missing was Din beside you. 

You’d been too preoccupied to notice, but Din had been watching you and Grogu from the ship. He’d gotten up to get some water, too stubborn to bother you for something so simple, and noticed that you were outside.

Din felt his heart beat faster in his chest as he watched.

Why’d you have to be so cute? 

He wondered if you knew that he thought about you in this way, but he was leaning towards no.

The wind tugged at the edges of your blanket as your hair blew softly in the wind, and Grogu was still mindlessly wandering outside with your company. 

It was astonishing how something so simple made him feel so many things. 

Quietly, he made his way back to bed to rest, silently wishing you’d come and dote on him so he could catch a glimpse of your face again.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“Hey, you.”

Your soft voice woke Din out of his sleep, and the gentle touch of your hands on his shoulder made his heart flip.

“You’re here…” he grumbled as his gloveless hand came to touch yours. You felt your cheeks heat up slightly and you let out a hum of acknowledgment.

He’d never done that before. Especially not with his gloves off. 

It took all your strength to pull your hand away from his. You held up a small glass bottle.

“Medicine,” you announced softly. “It’ll help you feel better.”

“Don’t need it.” 

You sighed and shook your head with a smile.

The stubbornness of this grown man, you thought.

“I’m going to leave this here in case you need it, then. Rest up, Mando.”

Mando.

The nickname made him perk up for a moment; he loved hearing your voice. He watched you quietly leave again, but he wished that you’d stay.

Your touch was so warm. Again, he found himself wondering if you knew what you were doing to him.

Din had been…testing the waters recently, so to say.

He was trying to see if you noticed the subtle things he did or said. Then, he would study you carefully to gauge your reaction. It was never anything super forward or out there, but he’d been trying in his own way.

At first, he started standing a little closer to you when there was space for him to be further. Just to see. He wouldn’t move away if you stepped into his space.

One time, he even placed his hands gently against your waist while trying to move past you. He noticed that when he did that, your cheeks went rosy.

Did you like when he did that? He desperately wanted to know.

Then his tone when speaking changed too.

He was reserved when you first came into his life. Very stoic and independent. He’d mostly nod to acknowledge what you said, but slowly and surely, he started to break.

Din reflected on that one time he slipped up and called you mesh’la, but luckily, you didn’t notice.

The growing ache in his body pulled Din away from his thoughts. Reality was so much worse than his fantasies with you in it.

Hesitantly, he reached over for the bottle of medicine you left. He was admitting defeat; this fever was awful.

Skimming over the instructions printed on the back of the glass, he lifted his helmet ever so slightly and downed the bottle. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

After preparing dinner for both you and Grogu, as well as another bowl of soup for Din, you heard babbling and squeals coming from where the Din was resting.

Glancing back at the table where you last placed the little green child to sit, you noticed he was missing.

“Sweetheart?" you asked softly, calling out to the child.

You walked into where Din was sleeping earlier, but he was up now. He was sitting upright and playing with Grogu. You sat on the edge of the cot with a warm smile, catching the attention of both Din and the kid.

“You’re up,” you said with surprise. “Feeling better?” 

“There you are.” Din’s voice sounded slightly slurred through the modulator, the medicine clearly working its magic. He tilted his head and looked directly at you. “I like when you’re here.”

Your eyes widened. Was this just the cold medicine talking for him, or were your suspicions right?

“Din," you asked. “Did you take the entire bottle?”

“Yes.”

“You’re only supposed to take, like, half of that…”

“Oh.”

“Are you feeling alr–“

“You’re really pretty.”

You froze as his words interrupted yours.

Surprise was written on your face as you blinked. He let out a small laugh, clearly delirious from the medicine.

“I like when you stay, cyar’ika.”

Your heart was thumping against your chest. You couldn’t help but wonder again if he was truly out of it from the medication or if he was just loose around the edges right now. 

Perhaps the medicine was simply blurring his inhibitions, making it easier for the truth to slip out. 

After a few more moments of silence, you found your voice.

“You took a lot of medicine, Din.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he replied.

His helmet was tilted slightly, but you could tell he was looking right at you. You averted your gaze to the child who was babbling quietly in Din’s arms.

“So, by that logic, what you’re saying isn’t true. It’s just the medicine talking.“

“No, it’s true. I liiiike you.” 

You had to hold back a laugh at the way he was talking, but you could feel your cheeks heating up more than ever. 

“Okay, you need to lie back down. Come here, Grogu.”

You motioned the child towards you, unable to hide your smile. Grogu came waddling towards you on the bed. Gently, you scooped him into your arms and stood up, watching Din lie back down as he mumbled something to himself.

You looked at Grogu with a smile.

“What do you think, little one? Do you think he’s telling the truth?” The child babbled in agreement to your question, and you let out a breathy laugh. “Maker, you’re so cute.”

“Thanks. You’re cuter.”

You turned your attention back to Din.

“I was talking Grogu, but…you’re not so bad yourself, Mando. I’d like to see how much of this you’ll remember tomorrow morning, though.” 

“Okaaaaay.”

And true to your word, you held him to it.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Morning eventually rolled around.

You were up early making breakfast with the child by your side. He squealed suddenly, causing you to turn around, only to be met with a familiar tall, broad figure covered in shiny metal. 

He sits down and his tone is normal again.

“Morning.”  

“Good morning," you replied normally.

He didn’t say anything else, but...you didn’t like the silence. You wanted to ask him about last night.

However, in order to save whatever dignity he had left after that, you decided to hold off on any serious questions for now. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked.

“Like I got hit by a speeder," he huffed.

Din looked over at you and suddenly, bits of pieces of last night came back to him.

“You’re really pretty.”

“I like when you stay.”

“I liiike you.” 

He shifted in his seat.

“Did I…say something to you yesterday?” he asked.

You stayed silent for a moment before answering.

“You were extra affectionate last night,” you replied. It almost sounded like you were teasing him. 

Din froze and he pretended not to remember. “…Was I?”

“Mm, very.” You gave him your full attention as you set breakfast down. “Nothing bad, though.”

He cleared his throat. “What exactly do you mean by affectionate?” 

You bit back a smile as you replied, “Oh, you know. Wanted me to stay close, kept reaching for my hand.”

“...Right. I was sick.”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

That was a lie, and a terrible one at that. Even with the helmet on, you could practically see him replaying the memories in real time.

“Did I say anything strange?” he asked carefully. 

There it was – your chance to dig deeper.

“Depends on your definition of strange,” you replied with a shrug. “Honestly, most of it was sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Well,” you began. “You told me that I'm pretty.”

He groaned, but you continued.

“You also said that I'm cute. Then you said that you...liked me.” 

Another groan.

“And–”

“That’s enough.”

“It isn’t, actually.” 

Din didn’t argue back.

“You were very honest,” you continued with a small smile.

“How honest?” His voice was low.

“Relax. You didn’t reveal any Republic secrets or anything.” 

“You know that’s not what I’m worried about.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and silence settled between you. Din froze. You froze. 

For a second, neither of you moved.

“No,” you said, breaking the silence. “I suppose it isn’t.”

Gone was the attempt to play dumb. Gone was the denial. The truth settled between you and him in the stillness.

“So,” you added, unable to resist. “The good news is that you were very polite about it.”

Din let out a deep sigh as he braced himself for your rejection. “And the bad news?”

You stared at him. For a moment, you couldn't believe he was serious. The way his shoulders had gone rigid. The way he'd already begun preparing himself for disappointment before you'd even answered him.

As if there was any world where you wouldn't want him back.

As if you hadn't spent months hopelessly, painfully in love with him.

Din thought he was about to lose you. Your teasing smile faded.

“The bad news is that you apparently only confess your feelings when you're running a fever. You couldn't have done this six months ago?"

He sat there silently, clearly not following.

You shook your head, letting out a breathless laugh. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to figure it out?"

You watched the exact moment your words registered. He shifted ever so slightly. You folded your arms across your chest.

"I was beginning to think I'd imagined all of it,” you said.

"All of what?" he asked.

"The staring."

"I don't stare."

"The hovering,” you continued. “And don’t forget the finding excuses to sit next to me."

"I—"

"The fact that every time someone flirts with me, you suddenly become the most unpleasant man anyone's ever met. I spent months trying to convince myself you weren't interested."

"Months?" His voice was full of genuine shock.

"Yes, months."

The word seemed to genuinely disturb him, as if the idea that you'd been wondering all this time was somehow unacceptable. You should have been his all this time.

"You knew?" he asked hesitantly.

You stared at him. "Knew what?”

“That I…you know.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Din.”

“Yes?”

"You wear a helmet."

"Oh."

"You barely talk."

"Oh."

"And your version of flirting is handing me things without making eye contact."

"Oh."

You pointed at him again. "Exactly."

He visibly relaxed. You took this opportunity to take a seat beside him. No distance this time. 

“So you didn’t know?” he asked, turning to face you as you sat down.

You blinked.

“Do you have any idea how good I've gotten at reading you? You have one visible facial expression and it’s just…helmet. Of course I knew.”

“You did?” His head tilted. 

"Din Djarin, you once spent three days fixing a door that wasn't broken because you didn't know how to ask me to stay in the cockpit with you."

The silence that followed was incriminating.

You sighed as you leaned against him, laying your head against his beskar-clad shoulder. He didn’t stop you. 

"I was fixing the door," he told you.

"You were absolutely not fixing the door."

"I was.”

"It worked perfectly."

"It was making a noise."

"It wasn't."

"It was."

You looked up at him lovingly, and he looked down at you through his visor.

For a moment, all was still. All was quiet.

"...I guess this means I don't have to wait until I'm sick again,” he said, a faint hint of confidence returning to his voice. “Close your eyes.”

Your heart immediately began hammering. You searched his visor, as if somehow you'd be able to see the expression hidden beneath it.

Whatever you were looking for, you found enough of it.

Slowly, you closed your eyes.

Then there was the faint sound of movement as you felt him shift beside you, and a soft hiss of beskar.

Your breath caught.

And then...you felt it.

His lips pressed against yours.

Everything in the galaxy seemed to stop. He was yours. Warm and real and finally, finally yours.

The kiss lasted only a moment. It was just long enough to leave your head spinning, and you wrapped your arms around him to treasure the feeling.

When he pulled away, you were still sitting there with your eyes closed.

But when you opened them again, Din was already lowering his helmet back into place. However, this time, neither of you needed to say anything.

You both just knew.