You opened your mouth to make another comment, but your friend Damien came up behind you and grabbed your elbow. “Mandalorian!” Damien said dramatically. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already knowing that Damien had consumed a few too many cocktails.

“My friend wants to ask you out.” Damien smiled and squeezed your shoulders from behind. 

“I do not!” You interjected. Heat rushed to your face as embarrassment filled your belly like lead.

“Ignore her.” Damien waved a hand at you dismissively and leaned closer to Din. “Frankly, I want her to ask you out. She hasn’t been on a date in YEARS! It’s a crisis if I’ve ever seen one.” 

“Damien!” You chastised. 

He carried on, oblivious to your objections. “I’ve heard that Mandalorians are some of the best lovers in the galaxy! Is it true?” 

Din shrugged. “I’m not sure.” 

Damien gave you a wicked grin. “I’ll leave you two to it.” 

Suddenly, you were face to face with a man whom you had just been utterly embarrassed in front of. “I’m so sorry about him. He may have indulged a little too much tonight.” 

Din shook his head and shrugged. “How long has he been doing that?” 

You tilted your head at his question. “Humiliating me?” 

You swore you heard a chuckle from beneath the helmet. “Interfering.”

“That’s an interesting word for it…he’s been doing that for years. He thinks he’s helping.” 

“He seems persistent.” 

“He is, despite my many protests.” 

“Has it ever worked?” 

“Not once. Um…anyway, what I was going to ask before we were rudely interrupted…I was curious if you still have the Razor Crest?” 

“I do. She’s been through a lot, but she’s still flying.” 

You smiled. “I have a bit of a soft spot for them. It’s nice to know that she’s still in fighting shape.” 

A moment of silence passed between you. “I landed on the roof.”

You blinked at his comment, unsure if it was an observation or an invitation. You were met with another stretch of silence. You were about to bid him a good night and return to the party, but he cleared his throat. 

“If you’d like…I can show you.” 

You smiled. “If it’s not too much of an inconvenience, I would love to.” 

“I’m obligated to stay here for a while longer, but I’d be happy to take you up when I'm relieved of duty.” 

“Oh, I don’t think that will be an issue. I’m the one who hired security in the first place. Would you hold this?” You handed him your drink and began fidgeting with your watch. 

A few moments later, Din received a communication that his work was concluded for the evening. 

“You’re the client.” He said matter-of-factly as he gave you your drink back.

“I was beginning to think you’d never figure it out.” You teased. 

 “Shall we?” You gestured toward the elevator.

In a few short moments, you were standing on the windy roof watching warm light spill onto the ramp of the Razor Crest. You had your hand clamped over your elaborate hairstyle, but you knew it was a lost cause. No amount of hairspray or pins were enough to keep the winds of your planet from giving everyone a bad hair day. 

He began walking up the ramp, and you scampered behind. It closed with a hiss behind you. You took a slow look around, smiling as your eyes wandered over the familiar silhouette of the cockpit and the large collection of tools that were organized against the wall. 

“Wow…” you whispered. “This is one of the most well maintained ones I’ve ever seen.” 

You began to wander. You could feel his masked gaze on you, but he didn’t seem to mind your curiosity. 

You walked past a wall of tools and armor with mirror finishes. In the reflection, you saw how badly your hair was messed up. The intricate hairstyle was sitting lopsided on your head. You sighed softly in frustration. 

“Wow, thanks for telling me how silly my hair looks.” You said sarcastically as you began to take it down. 

“Was I…supposed to say something?” He asked. 

You continued fishing pins from your head, using the makeshift mirror as your guide. “Actually…no.” 

You carried on for another few minutes, sure that you had finally retrieved every last accessory. Your hair cascaded messily around your shoulders. “Finally!” 

“You missed a few.” He said quietly. 

Your fingers searched, but you came up short. “Where?” 

“Near the nape of your neck.” 

You tried again to no avail. You looked at him and shook your head. He came closer to you, and you soon found yourself standing inches in front of the Mandalorian. You could feel the warmth coming off of him in waves. 

“May I?” He asked as he reached toward your hair. 

“Please! I’m never doing this to myself ever again.” You dipped your chin to give him easier access. 

In the reflection of the mirrored wall, you watched his gloved hands hover just above your hair before he drew them back. He carefully slid off each glove and laid them on a nearby crate. 

You were laser focused on his hands. You weren’t sure what you expected, but the sight of his bare skin made you realize that there was a man beneath all of that armor. A man whose steady hands were slowly and delicately gliding along your scalp to assist you in something he had no obligation to do. 

“...There.” His voice was quiet through the vocoder. You felt a touch of disappointment as his hands returned to his sides. 

You smiled at him in the reflection. “You’re sure they’re all gone now?” 

He nodded slowly. To your surprise, his warm fingers returned to the back of your head before gliding over your shoulder. A chill went down your spine. 

You turned to face him. You searched the inky blackness of his visor, and you could tell that the energy in the room had shifted. 

You looked down and reached for one of his calloused hands. He slid it into yours, and you carefully brought it up to your mouth, brushing his knuckles with your lips. You pulled it away and waited. 

He moved closer to you. The cool beskar of his armor was nearly brushing your abdomen. He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. You wanted nothing more than to see his face and kiss him tenderly, but you had heard the stories of Mandalorians and would do no such thing unless instructed.

It felt as though he was studying you through the helmet. You held the dark gaze of his visor. The silence stretched between you, and you wondered if he could hear your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Is this what you want?” There was a tentativeness in his voice. 

“...Yes. Is this what you want?” You asked quietly. 

“Yes.” 

You smiled at the quickness of his response. “Your ship, your rules. Tell me what’s off limits.” 

“The helmet stays on.” 

You nodded. “Understood. Anything else?” 

He thought for a second. “We’ll figure the rest out as we go. Anything I should know?” 

“Only that I haven’t done this in awhile. And I have the implant and a recent clean bill of health.” 

“So do I.” 

A beat of silence passed between you two. You splayed a hand on his breastplate. 

He read your cue and began methodically removing his armor. You watched as he skillfully unclasped every piece one by one. 

He stood before you in plain black clothing. You closed the distance and ran your hands down his clothed torso before snaking your hands beneath the fabric. His skin was warm. You felt the muscles in his abdomen tighten under your touch. You grazed your nails along his stomach, and you felt his breathing hitch. 

He reached behind you and unzipped your dress. The fabric fell to the floor in one fell swoop. You stepped out of your heels, and you were suddenly dwarfed by the man in front of you. 

One his hands settled at your hip while the other reached up to cup your face. You closed your eyes as he softly traced your features. The pad of his thumb was flat against your plump lips, and you opened your eyes again when you felt it gently tug at your bottom lip. You obliged and opened your mouth as he pulled his hand away. 

You became aware of the hardness of him pressing against you. You dropped to your knees and looked at him expectantly. He gingerly pulled down the soft black fabric and his cock sprang free. 

You blinked at him for a moment. He was much larger than you were anticipating. You reached up and wrapped your hand around him, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

You smiled as a gasp broke through the vocoder. You began to drip with arousal. 

“Do you like that?” You asked coyly as you began to move your hand up and down the shaft. You moved closer and brought him into your mouth. 

Satisfaction filled you as he tipped his head toward the ceiling of the ship. You began bobbing your head up and down, using your hand to make sure every inch received the proper attention. His hands soon found themselves entangled in your hair. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, so you began to take him deeper. 

Tears welled in your eyes, but the moans and noises that he was making were irresistible. Your hands were placed firmly on the back of his muscular thighs, and you opened up your throat enough to engulf him in your mouth completely. 

“Cyare, I’m going to…” He panted. 

You continued to move back and forth. You felt his muscles tensing beneath your touch, and you decided to pick up the pace. He huffed out a breath, and soon warm, salty liquid filled your mouth. You licked it clean and smiled up at him as his chest heaved. The sight sent another wave of arousal through you, and you knew you were a dripping mess between your thighs.

Din reached down and pulled you to your feet and pressed your back against the wall. He reached down and slid your panties down your legs. The juxtaposition of you being entirely naked while he was covered from head to toe sent a chill down your spine. He had even managed to tuck himself back into his pants, but you weren’t sure when. You were caged in by his enormous arms, and you watched his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. 

“Now what?” You smirked. In the short time you had known the Mandalorian, you always thought of him as competent and decisive. Now, it seemed like his mind was blank. You enjoyed knowing it was your actions that made him that way. 

He finally caught his breath. “Come with me.” 

He placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you further into the ship. A sealed door opened with a woosh, revealing a small bed with few blankets and even fewer pillows.

You crawled inside on your hands and knees and looked over your shoulder to see him removing his boots before climbing in after you. It suddenly occurred to you what kind of position you were in, but he seemingly figured it out long before you did. His hands squeezed the soft plush of your hips. The door closed behind you, plunging you into darkness. 

You were certain he could see you through his visor, but you chose to keep that thought to yourself. A playful swat made you yelp out in surprise. 

“What are you waiting for?” You teased.

Fingers slid along your sex before slowly sliding inside of you. You moaned softly and leaned into his touch. 

“Someone’s in a rush.” He tsked as he thrusted his soaked digits in and out of you. 

“Says the man who already came.” You choked out. 

“Relax, I promise I’ll repay the favor.” 

You felt his fingers withdraw from you. A few moments later, you felt the thick head of his member poking at your entrance. He slowly slid inside. His hands gripped your hips like a vice, and your eyes began to roll in the back of your head as he filled you. 

All of the silly things you worried about on a day to day basis vanished as he thrusted in and out of your tight pussy. You could only focus on the blinding pleasure of being bedded by a hot, capable man. 

Your moans grew louder, and you gripped the threadbare blanket with all your might.

“Harder!” You begged. He took your instruction, picking up the pace of his thrusts and angling his hips to go deeper. 

You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm ripped through you. Every muscle in your body became limp, but the Mandalorian held you steadfastly. He guided you down to the mattress. You rolled onto your back, only able to make out a faint shadow of him in the dark. 

“I can tell you’re grinning under there,” you narrowed your eyes at him playfully. 

“No you can’t.” 

You dropped your head onto the mattress and laughed. 

He pulled your legs up so they were on either side of his head and bent you in half. He lined himself up again and slid back inside of you. 

You could feel him in your fucking diaphragm. He contorted your body in ways you didn’t even know were possible, but every thrust of his hips made you see stars. You could feel a second orgasm building. 

“Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl?” he panted. 

You babbled out a response, desperately inching closer and closer to your peak. The pleasure was overwhelming as it crashed over you. Your chest heaved beneath him as he chased his own orgasm. 

A few moments later, his pace faltered and stuttered. Warmth bloomed inside of you, and he finally slowed to a stop.

He dipped his head and pressed the cool metal of the helmet to your forehead. You closed your eyes and pressed closer to him. He gently pulled back from you, withdrawing from your body. Sticky wetness dribbled out of you, and you almost thought he was watching as it did. 

You sat up. The door reopened, bathing you both in the light of the main bay of the ship.

He stepped out and reached a hand toward you to help you to your feet. 

Hours blurred together in the endless blue-white tunnel of hyperspace, until the stars suddenly exploded back into existence.

The ship lurched violently as it dropped into realspace, inertial compensators struggling for a heartbeat to catch up. Starlight snapped into focus all around you like shattered glass reforming itself, while warning indicators blinked briefly across the dashboard before settling into silence once more.

Hanging beneath the cockpit viewport was the planet.

It was little more than a gray sphere wrapped in ragged bands of pale cloud, its surface scarred by ancient impacts and lifeless mountain ranges that stretched like old wounds across the continents. A sparse ring of orbital wreckage drifted around it- broken satellites, forgotten cargo containers, and the skeletal remains of ships that no one had bothered to salvage. Perfect.

The landing struts settled into hard-packed stone layered with centuries of volcanic ash, sending a faint cloud of gray dust drifting across the barren plain. Jagged cliffs loomed in the distance, their black silhouettes swallowed by a sky the color of cold iron. Wind whispered endlessly across the empty landscape, scraping loose grit over the rock with a dry, rasping hiss that sounded almost like distant voices.

There were no settlements.

No beacon towers.

No smoke rising from hidden villages.

No lights breaking the horizon.

No movement.

Eventually, the boarding ramp lowered with a long, reluctant hiss as aging hydraulics strained against their own weight. Cold air flooded into the ship, startling in its sharpness. It was dry enough to sting your lungs, carrying with it the scent of ancient stone, mineral dust, and earth that had not known rain in generations.

You stepped onto the gray surface alone.

No curious chirp echoing from somewhere behind you, no hovering pram floating faithfully to your side. No familiar metallic footsteps crossed the ramp after you.

You adjusted the strap of your pack across your shoulder and slowly turned, letting your eyes wander over the horizon instead of immediately choosing a direction. That had been one of the first lessons drilled into every child of Clan Ordo.

A Mandalorian who rushes is a Mandalorian who dies.

Observation before movement.

You closed your eyes for only a heartbeat, breathing slowly through your nose. Beneath the sharp scent of dust and weathered stone lingered something else- so faint that most beings would have dismissed it entirely. Moisture.

Not much, but just enough.

You crouched, letting your gloved fingertips brush across the dark ground. The stone was fractured by ancient freeze-thaw cycles, narrow channels etched through it by water that had flowed here countless seasons before. Most were dry now, but not all. Several depressions still held darker sediment, and patches of pale green lichen clung stubbornly to the shaded side of larger boulders.

Life, however sparse, always pointed toward more life.

Your gaze lifted toward the distant ridgeline. The cliffs there were broken by a narrow ravine whose walls caught less direct sunlight than the open plain. Thin fingers of darker stone traced their way down its face, subtle enough to escape notice unless you knew what you were looking for. Water left signatures even after it vanished- changes in erosion, different mineral deposits, the stubborn persistence of hardy vegetation.

Boot after boot pressed into the ash as you left the gunship behind, your pace steady, measured, conserving energy without sacrificing distance. There was no reason to hurry. The planet had waited centuries before your arrival. It could wait another few hours.

As the ship gradually shrank behind you, swallowed by heat haze and drifting gray dust, you resisted the urge to glance back.

The ravine narrowed as you descended, its walls rising on either side in layers of dark volcanic stone worn smooth by centuries of patient erosion. The wind that had swept unhindered across the barren plateau was little more than a whisper here, broken against the rock before it could reach the valley floor. The air felt different- cooler, heavier- and with every careful step the scent of dry ash gave way to something subtler.

Damp earth.

You slowed instinctively.

The sound reached you before the source did.

At first, it was almost imperceptible, buried beneath the rustle of the breeze against stone. A quiet, rhythmic murmur. Soft enough that another traveler might have mistaken it for the wind itself.

You rounded a weathered outcropping, and the ravine opened into a narrow basin hidden from the world above.

A stream, no wider than a few meters, wound lazily between polished black stones. Crystal-clear water slipped over smooth rock in gentle cascades before collecting in a pool so still that it reflected the pale sky like polished glass. Thin patches of moss clung stubbornly to the banks, while resilient grasses bent beneath the current's edge. Small, twisted shrubs stretched toward the light filtering down from the cliffs above, their roots drinking from the stream that had carved this sanctuary from an otherwise lifeless world.

You lowered yourself onto a broad, sun-warmed stone beside the stream and folded your legs beneath you.

Your hands rested lightly upon your knees. Your breathing gradually slowed, each inhale matching the quiet rhythm of the stream beside you. The tension in your shoulders eased. Muscles that had remained unconsciously taut since leaving Din behind finally began to loosen.

The Force was quieter here, less crowded. Back with Din, it had always felt like standing in a room where too many people were speaking at once- emotions overlapping, intentions brushing against your senses whether you wanted them or not.

Grogu’s presence shimmered like a small, bright lantern in the middle of it all. Din’s presence was like a steady, grounded weight that anchored the chaos even when he didn’t mean to.

Here, there was only distance. The bond that had become so familiar had stretched across light-years until it was little more than the faintest thread, too far away to touch, yet impossible to forget. You could no longer feel Grogu's joyful curiosity spilling into the Force around you. Din's steady presence no longer lingered just beyond the edge of your awareness like a reassuring hand upon your shoulder.

And that made everything inside you louder.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows against your knees, your hands hanging loosely between them. Your gaze settled on the stream, though after a while you weren't truly looking at the water anymore. The ripples blurred together until your eyes stopped trying to focus on anything in particular.

You tried to organize your thoughts the way you organized gear: methodically, logically, on piece at a time.

Clan Ordo had taught you that hesitation got warriors killed. Emotion clouded judgment. A Mandalorian survived by accepting the facts in front of them, no matter how unpleasant those facts might be.

Fact: Din was alive.

The memory surfaced before you could push it away, the impossible surge of the Force. The way it had answered your desperation without hesitation, as though it had been waiting for the moment you finally reached for it.

Another fact.

Grogu would have felt it.

Perhaps not the details, not from so far away, but the disturbance itself. A sudden flare in the Force that could not be mistaken for coincidence.

Your fingers curled unconsciously against your palms.

If the galaxy learned there was another Force-sensitive traveling beside the Mandalorian who had already crossed paths with Jedi, Sith relics, Imperial warlords, and the child once hunted by an Empire…

It wouldn't stop coming.

You had seen enough of history to know that the Force had a way of drawing conflict to itself.

The Force brushed against you then, a gentle stirring at the edge of your awareness, as delicate as a breeze passing over still water. It carried no answers, no hidden truths waiting to be deciphered. It simply was- patient, constant, as if reluctant to disturb someone already carrying more than they could bear.

You let out a slow, measured breath.

"Don't," you murmured, the word barely louder than the stream beside you.

Whether you were speaking to the Force or to yourself, you weren't entirely sure.

Your chest tightened as you pictured Din, as clearly as if he were standing in front of you again- armor still cracked from the cistern, posture stiff with pain he refused to show. The kind of stillness he used when he was deciding something important and didn’t want the decision to leak out through movement.

"I couldn't stay," you whispered, the confession carried away by the wind before anyone but the Force could hear it.

Because your fear had never truly been that Din would see the Force.

It was that he would see you.

Really see you.

The parts you had spent years burying beneath armor, discipline, and Mandalorian resolve.

You had hidden it from everyone for so long that it had stopped feeling like a secret and started feeling like a flaw.

"I couldn't bear that," you whispered.

Not his trust unraveling.

Not the possibility that the quiet certainty the two of you had built together might crack beneath the weight of a truth you had never wanted him to carry.

You knew it wasn't fair.

Din had never given you a reason to believe he would turn away.

If anything, every choice he had ever made suggested the opposite. Again and again, he had opened his heart to foundlings, outcasts, droids, former enemies, people the rest of the galaxy had dismissed or feared. Compassion was woven into him as deeply as the Creed itself, even if he would never describe it that way.

But fear was rarely interested in evidence- fear whispered with your own voice. It took your deepest wound and spoke as though it were certainty.

He'll never look at you the same way again.

The words lingered in the silence, impossible to prove and impossible to silence. Your hand drifted unconsciously toward the side of your head, fingers brushing against the familiar beskar plating.

The realization came slowly, then all at once. The small indicator light on the side of your helmet continued to blink.

A tiny, insignificant thing.

A mistake.

One you would have caught instantly if your mind hadn't been so consumed with leaving, with running, with putting as much distance as possible between yourself and the only people in the galaxy who had ever truly felt like home.

"Are you alright?"

Your eyes closed.

Of course that was the first thing he asked.

Not Why did you leave?

Not What were you thinking?

Not How long have you been hiding this from me?

Because Din Djarin had always been that way.

Even when he was angry, even when he was confused, even when the galaxy was falling apart around him, his first instinct was always to make sure the people he cared about were still standing.

You swallowed.

"Din..."

Your voice sounded smaller than you wanted it to.

The comlink crackled softly.

"I don't know where you are."

The admission surprised you. Not because you thought he would find you, but because some part of you had always believed Din could find anything.

"I checked the last jump coordinates from the ship," he continued. "There were too many possible routes."

You imagined him sitting somewhere aboard his own vessel, helmet still on, staring at a collection of incomplete data and possibilities.

Silence stretched again, but it wasn’t the same kind as before. You could feel him on the other end of the line, even without seeing him- that steady, unrelenting presence. The kind that didn’t drift away just because things got complicated.

Grogu made a soft sound in the background of his transmission- small, questioning. Your chest tightened in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

"I thought you were going to decide I couldn’t be around you anymore." you murmured.

'That’s not what I did.' Din’s voice came back immediately.

The certainty in it made your breath catch.

You allowed yourself to let out a slow, shaky exhale.

"I was unconscious for part of it." A faint edge of something almost like dry frustration entered his tone. "And when I wasn’t, I was trying not to move too much so I didn’t make my ribs worse."

Grogu made another sound, closer now, as if Din had adjusted the comm so the child was nearer to it.

"You don't have to tell me everything today," Din continued. "You don't have to explain something you aren't ready to explain."

The static softened.

"But don't decide for me that I won't accept you."

For a moment, you couldn't answer.

The words sat between you and the silence of the ravine.

Don't decide for me that I won't accept you.

You had spent so much time convincing yourself that leaving was an act of love that you had never stopped to consider what it looked like from the other side.

You had decided for Din.

You had decided for Grogu.

You had decided that their love had conditions they had never actually spoken.

Slowly, a warmth touched the edges of your awareness.

Not like what you had felt in the cistern. Not the violent surge of necessity, not the uncontrolled eruption of power that had torn stone apart and held a creature twice the size of a speeder in place.

This was different. This was… reaching.

A presence brushed against your mind with a kind of hesitant gentleness, like a hand extending into dark water to see if anything would take it.

And immediately, you understood who it was. Grogu.

You stayed very still, afraid that even the thought of movement might break whatever fragile thread had just formed between you.

The presence touched you again. And this time, it didn’t stop at the surface. It slipped just enough into your awareness that you felt something like emotion wrapped inside it- not words, not images, but pure feeling translated through the Force itself.

Your hand slowly lifted, hovering over the air in front of you as though you could somehow reach back.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

The words were meant for both of them.

For Din.

For Grogu.

For the family you had run from because you were terrified of losing it.

The Force responded with the faintest pulse of warmth.

A feeling, not a message, but one you understood anyway.

You are still loved.

"He knows you left," Din said. "But he doesn't understand why."

The Force around you trembled. Not violently, just enough for you to feel the sadness you had been avoiding.

"I'm scared." The words slipped past your lips faster than you could stop them.

The Force connection didn’t retreat. If anything, it softened further, like it had decided fear wasn’t something to push away- but something to sit beside. Grogu’s presence stayed with you, small but unwavering, like a hand held out in the dark that refused to move even when the dark felt too large to understand.

"Why are you scared?"

The question didn’t come with suspicion. That made it worse in its own way.

Because suspicion you understood. Suspicion had edges. It had structure. You knew how to brace against it.

"You and Boba… you come from places where people like me don’t fit neatly into anything." Your fingers tightened slightly against your knee. "Mandalorians and Jedi have spent so long treating each other like warnings instead of people."

Grogu shifted faintly in the background of the comm, like he was listening harder now.

You exhaled again, slower.

"And I know what that looks like when someone decides you’re a problem."

You closed your eyes for a second.

"I'm talking about what happens when people like Boba Fett hear Jedi and people like Luke hear Mandalorian and suddenly everyone starts remembering things that didn’t happen to us personally but still get attached anyway. I don’t want to be the thing that makes you decide I’m too risky to keep around Grogu."

"I don't see you as a threat. And I don't want you to disappear because you think that's easier for me." You looked down. "I don't want you deciding that losing you hurts less than accepting you."

Grogu’s presence in the Force pressed gently against your awareness again- steady, insistent in its simplicity.

He’s telling the truth.

"What about-"

Your words were cut off as the crackle of a new com sprung to life.

"You're overthinking this."

Boba Fett sounded like he always did- unbothered on the surface, but with the kind of attention underneath that meant nothing he said was accidental.

"I don't hold hostility toward you. I've worked with Jedi before. I've worked against them too." A pause. "Neither category means much to me anymore."

Grogu's presence in the Force shifted at the same time: subtle, but approving in the way only he seemed capable of being. Not words. Just warmth. Like a small, certain nod from across impossible distance.

Din spoke again, softer now. "You don't have to run from us."

Din spends nearly an hour asking practical questions- Can you pilot? Can you shoot? Do you know basic first aid? What would you do if pirates boarded the ship?- before Grogu climbs into your lap and beings playing with one of your jacket strings

Din doesn't say anything, but his shoulders loosen almost imperceptibly. That's all the recommendation he needs

You spend considerable effort preparing balanced meals, introducing vegetables, fruits from distant systems, and carefully portioned proteins. Grogu stares at the plate, looks at you with enormous pleading eyes, then immediately points toward a passing frog outside the ship. Din hides his amusement while you explain- for the hundredth time- that live amphibians are not an acceptable food group

The first time Din leaves Grogu in your care for a bounty, he spends nearly twenty minutes preparing despite the mission itself only requiring a few hours. He checks every seal on the Razor Crest twice. He shows you where the emergency medical kit is, then shows you again. He explains Grogu's eating habits, the safest settings for the ship's heating system, which planets have edible frogs, and which ones definitely do not

Yet over time, those precautions begin to disappear. One day he leaves without repeating where the medical supplies are kept. Another time he simply nods toward Grogu before walking down the boarding ramp, offering only a quiet, "I'll be back before nightfall."

You begin inventing little games to keep Grogu occupied

Empty ration tins become towers for him to knock over with the Force. Navigation stars become bedtime stories about ancient explorers. You teach him simple card games he can't quite understand but insists on winning anyway. Every time he succeeds at something- even something as simple as stacking blocks- you cheer like he's conquered the galaxy

You manage to coax a tiny flowering plant into growing beneath one of the cockpit windows using recycled water and stubborn determination, much to Din's quiet disbelief

The ship begins carrying the comforting scent of warm soup, fresh caf, and baked bread instead of fuel and blaster residue. Din never comments on the changes directly, but every time he returns from another exhausting hunt, his shoulders relax just a little as he steps through the boarding ramp

Grogu becomes increasingly convinced the two of you belong together long before either of you realize it yourselves

If Din is working on his armor, Grogu steals your datapad until you're forced to sit nearby while waiting to retrieve it. Whenever you and Din are working on opposite sides of the ship, Grogu somehow manages to wander back and forth until you're standing beside each other again

Grogu even begins refusing to nap unless both of you remain in the room. Whenever Din stands to leave, Grogu reaches out with the Force and tugs gently on his cape until he sits back down beside you again. Din mutters, "He's doing that on purpose." You smile, and Grogu looks far too pleased with himself

Then, one evening after an especially brutal series of missions, you find him asleep in the cockpit. Not simply resting with his helmet tilted back as he sometimes does, but genuinely asleep. His breathing is slow and even. His shoulders have finally loosened. Grogu is curled against one side of him beneath a blanket while you quietly occupy the other seat, reading by the dim glow of the control panel

Din is not a man who fills silence with unnecessary conversation. Most days aboard the ship are punctuated only by practical observations, navigation updates, or the occasional dry remark delivered so quietly you're never certain whether he intended it as a joke. Yet somewhere along the journey, you begin finding comfort in those sparse conversations

You learn the subtle changes in his voice that most people would never notice. The way it softens when he speaks to Grogu after the child wakes from a nightmare. The almost imperceptible warmth that slips into his tone whenever he says your name. The low rumble of quiet amusement hidden beneath otherwise serious words whenever you tease him about his inability to admit he enjoys the "little family" you've built together

Sometimes you'll find yourself working alone in the cargo hold while Din repairs equipment in the cockpit, and hearing him call down the corridor to ask a simple question somehow makes the entire ship feel less lonely

You often wonder what mornings would feel like if they always began the way they do now- sharing breakfast around a cramped little table while Grogu steals pieces of food from both of your plates

One morning, you wake to find your favorite blaster missing from the workbench where you'd left it the night before. Panic lasts only until you hear the unmistakable sound of welding tools humming softly from the cargo hold. Following the noise, you discover Din seated at his portable forge, your weapon completely disassembled across the table

Before you can ask what happened, he gestures for you to come closer. "The trigger pull was uneven," he says matter-of-factly, already focused on tightening a component you hadn't even realized could be improved. "Barrel alignment was off by two millimeters. I fixed it."

You blink, turning the weapon over in your hands after he finishes. The grip fits more comfortably. The sights line up faster. The balance feels lighter without sacrificing stability

Weeks later, he reinforces your holster so it draws more smoothly. Another month passes before he quietly replaces worn wiring in your stun baton with higher-grade components salvaged from an Imperial cache

You mention once, in passing, that your shoulder aches after carrying your pack during long hikes. The next morning, he has redistributed the weight inside it without saying a word, somehow making it noticeably easier to carry. You complain about the cockpit growing cold during hyperspace travel, and two days later he has repaired a heating vent you hadn't even realized was malfunctioning

In the beginning, Din simply brings back interesting objects- pretty stones polished smooth by alien oceans, unusual coins from distant systems, handcrafted trinkets sold by local artisans

But over time, the gifts become increasingly thoughtful. He remembers passing comments you made weeks earlier, details you assumed he'd forgotten. After you mention admiring the constellations visible from a forest moon, he later surprises you with an old star chart preserved inside a weathered durasteel case. When you once confess that you've always wanted to learn more about Mandalorian craftsmanship, he quietly places an old carving knife in your hands one evening, explaining that it had belonged to a craftsman who taught foundlings generations ago. "Needs sharpening," he says, almost dismissively. "Thought you might get some use out of it."

If Din is subtle about his growing feelings, Grogu is anything but. The child seems determined to speed along a romance that neither of you is prepared to acknowledge

Whenever Din returns with another small gift tucked into one of his belt pouches, Grogu immediately begins chirping excitedly and pointing toward you before Din has a chance to present it naturally. If Din hesitates, suddenly embarrassed by the simplicity of whatever he's brought back, Grogu simply reaches into the pouch himself using the Force, levitating the little trinket directly into your waiting hands

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