#dinnec

Getting him into the raised cot was a bit of a fight. She knew how to take him in a spar, but with the bulk and weight of the beskar, he was unwieldy and difficult. Add to the suspected concussion, she was looking at several months of massages to make up for today. She grunted and shouldered him up into the cot, swinging his legs up one at a time. She wasn’t a small woman, by any means, and had her hard earned share of muscle, grit, and scars, but this was a little ridiculous.

“You are the most uncooperative Mandalorian I’ve ever met.”

“Y’married me, makes you Mando too.” His laugh was raspy and wet, and the cough that followed didn’t bode well for what she’d find beneath the armor. She quickly disengaged the seal on his helmet and gently tugged it off.

Din had more bloodied skin than clean, starting from a few deep lacerations on his scalp, and some blooming bruises from where the helmet had been jammed against his face several times. His lip was bloody and she would bet he must have bitten down on it to keep his cries of pain quieter. “What happened?” she asked, distracting him as she took off the rest of the mag-attachments on the armor.

“You know how bad intel goes,” he said tightly.

“Badly,” Fennec inferred, removing the cuirass after the pauldrons. He had tried patching himself up in the field, a slipshod attempt to keep the wound in his arm from bleeding too much. The wound had won out, seeping red through the dark gauze he must have torn from another section of his cape. That thing was getting shorter every day. “This from a vibroblade?”

“They had me five to one. Couldn’t stop it.” Din could handle his own with any number of idiots, but with bad intel, and the state of him, he looked like he’d barely made it out still breathing.

“Alright, I’m gonna get the rest of this off of you. Anything else you wanna tell me about before I see it?”

“Y’r beautiful.”

Okay.

“I meant injury-wise.”

“I’ll be fine if I just keep lookin’ at you.” He chuckled, smiling through a mouth full of bloody teeth. It was oddly charming, but the both of them were odd at whatever they did. Boba reminded them of that enough.

“You already married me, you don’t need to seduce me.”

“Where’s your sense of fun?”

“They took it out with my liver,” she deadpanned. “I’m stripping you now. In the least sexy way possible.”

“Too late.” Din grinned, but groaned when she jostled some of his bruised ribs. Eventually, he was down to just his briefs and socks, scars new and old on stark display beneath the bright lights.

Fennec hummed while she patched him up, and aside from the softest brush of his fingertips against her side when she leaned close, he was the perfect patient. She kept her eyes focused on her task, but she felt the soft, besotted look he was giving her anyway. When he was treated and the painkiller was administered, she helped him sit up to wrap his bruised knuckles a little tighter.

“You shouldn’t let these things happen to my husband. I thought you were a legendary bounty hunter.”

“I’m not yet a legendary husband, my apologies,” he said softly. “I’m working on it.”

After tying off the bandage wrap, she brought his slightly-immobile hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to the tops of his knuckles. “I know you are.”

A few long moments stretched in the silence between them before Din spoke again.