#queer!din

Grogu loves to watch you paint your nails. Sometimes you let him pick the color. You always offer to paint his, and when you get the brush near his little clawed hand he pulls it away and giggles.

Din hears the giggles and leans in the doorway of your room and watches. 

“I like that color, it’s my favorite.” Din says, fully armored, he’ll be leaving soon on a mission with the new republic.

You coat the glossy deep red over your final digit, bringing your fingers up to your face, you blow on the paint and bat your eyelashes slowly at Din, thinking about how much you’ll miss him.

Din says nothing as he comes and sits beside you on the edge of your bed. You watch him slip his gloves off.

“Do mine.”

You pause with a slow smile, “Really?”

“Yes.”

Trying to hide your wonderment and suspicion, you wave your hands around, and the thin coat of paint dries quickly. “What color do you want?” Din looks at the little display of colors you have. He picks out a sparkly silver, “Goes with my armor.” Grogu watches from the sidelines.

“Lay your hand here, flat.” Din has watched you so many times, his hand is splayed out on the little tray you use. His big wide palms and thick fingers fill up the space. 

“Well, first off…your cuticles need to be pushed back.”

Din tilts his head, “My what?”

“Here.”

You take his hand gently and get out your hand lotion, you massage his palm, focusing on the rough calluses of his repetitive motions, the trigger finger, where he held the flightstick of his Razor Crest for all of those years. Din leans back onto the post of your bed, relaxing into your touch. You could ask him to take the helmet off, as his creed allows you to see his face now. But you don’t, you know he is most comfortable some days like this, especially on days he has to leave you.

You ready each nailbed, he pulls back a little and hisses, “Ow.”

You look at him confused and concerned.

He is so dry with his humor, “I’m joking. You’re very good at this. It feels nice.”

You lay your lips softly on his knuckles before guiding his hand back down to the tray. The silver has little sparkles in it that catch the light. 

“Feels weird, a little cold.” Din says as he sits calmly watching you work.

“I don’t know if it will survive your whole trip, and your daily glove wear.”

“I’ll have to bring it with me then, so I can touch up.”

You hold both of his hands, fingers resting in your palms as you blow on the paint, “You know, where I come from, men weren’t allowed to wear the same things as women, only women painted themselves. In fact, we had to. Only babies and very young girls were allowed to be seen plain. Men were expected to be as masculine as they could.”

Din starts to pull his hand back, “You’ve mentioned this before, I’m sorry, is this offensive to you? I should have asked.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes and pull his hand back in, “No, maybe at one time. But nothing about you could offend me Din.”

He nods.

“The presentation of one's gender didn’t really have many boundaries within my tribe, it wasn’t really a concern.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Do you ever think about not wearing it?” Din brushes a knuckle along your cheek, you have a full face of makeup on, shimmer on your cheeks, color on your lips, shadow on your eyes, some days you add more detail or more color, but you never go without.

“I think about it sometimes, now that I have the choice…I’m just not ready.”

“I love you with or without it you know, just as you do with me and my helmet.”

Words stick in your throat and you only respond with another kiss to his knuckles as you look at his masculine hands with painted nails. “I love you.”

Din sighs, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Is being a woman important to you?”

“Yes, I think I’m proud to represent my people, in the way that I do. Sometimes I think of doing it differently, like we just talked about. I grew up thinking there was only one way to be a woman but I know now there are more ways.”

“But you are a woman?”

Din, in his childlike sincerity makes you smile, you almost laugh, “Yes. I am a woman.” He sits very still and looks at his painted nails. You have no idea what he is thinking because you can’t read his expressive face when he has his helmet on.

“Din…do you want to tell me what being a man is for you?”

He sighs, “No.”

“Well, okay then. Guess this conversation is a one way street.”

“I’m not a man, I don’t think I’m anything.”

You have a million ways to interpret that statement running through your head, “Can you expand on that love, I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I mean it makes no difference to me, if someone thought I was man or woman, I don’t think of myself as either but sometimes…and especially after Grogu came along, I think I am both.”

“Because you had to fulfill the role of a mother and a father?” This concept he is trying to tell you about is so foreign to you.

“It only helped me realize it is all.”

“Realize what?”

“That I am not a man.”

“Are you saying that…” You take his hand and look at his painted nails, “That you wish you were a woman?”

Din pulls his hand away from you, he reaches up and takes his helmet off, his hair sticks up adorably, he scratches at his short beard. “I haven’t told you this because I worried it would be hard for you to understand. Cyare…I’m both, I’m bintar, I’m both and I’m none of them. My…” He squints trying to think of how you can understand, “It doesn’t matter what my sexual organs are, I don’t have to fulfill a role because of that , I don’t have to dress a certain way because of that…like how you were raised. My sex and my gender are two entirely separate things. In Mando’a we say kaysh for she and he, we also say val, which means they. I am val.”

He watches your face as the wheels turn in your head.  You still can’t grasp it. What does he mean he isn’t a man, he is so strong and masculine and he protects. You look up at his big brown eyes, “Din, I’m sorry…I.”

He holds your chin, “You don’t have to understand. I understand if this changes things.”

He starts to rise from the bed and leave your room but you jump up and block the door, “No wait. I have questions.”

“Anything.” his lips curve up into a hint of a smile.

“Does this mean you’re attracted to only men? Are you still attracted to me?” you growl at yourself hearing the question out loud, “Okay don’t answer that, you’re going to say attraction and gender aren’t connected.”

“It's not a choice and they aren’t...not really, but I like all genders, and I’m attracted to the feminine and the masculine.”

“There is nothing masculine about me Din.”

He's stifling his exasperation, “I know cyare, that’s okay.”

“Do you want me to be more masculine?”

“I want you to be yourself, and that's all.”

“So what does this mean about us, what’s changed?” Your cheeks grow hot and your eyes start to burn with tears.

“Nothing my love, nothing has to change.” He pulls you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. The way he said that, nothing has to change, came out disappointed.

“Maker Din…am I keeping you from being yourself? Please don’t…” You start to full on cry now. “I’m sorry, you’ve kept these things from me because you knew it would be hard for me to understand, but stars Din, I hate the idea of you not being able to express yourself because you’re trying to protect my feelings.” You wrap your arms around him, grateful he doesn’t have his jetpack on, so you can squeeze him to you tight. “I adore you, if you want to paint your nails or do anything else that makes you feel happy, please don’t let the way I was raised stop you. I’m crying and making this about me, I’m sorry.”

You pull away and gently dab at your eyes and sniffle, “You know, maybe it will take me a moment to wrap my head around it, but I think I can.”

Din is gone for weeks. He is out of reach for the whole trip, for his safety and his families it's best he not contact you. You ruminate and rotate all the ways you’ve upset him after not understanding what he was saying about not being a man.  You spend the weeks worrying you’ve pushed him away. You also spend time trying to grasp how he feels about his gender, you do that by better understanding your own. You go days without your daily ritual of hair and makeup, Grogu can’t stop staring at you quietly and it makes you laugh and you reassure him you’re fine. You look in the mirror and struggle to see yourself until one day you do and the next time you do your makeup you remember why you actually do it, because it makes you feel good and affirms the truth you know about yourself.

You wake up and decide again you will skip your ritual, thinking of Din, how many ways has he wanted to express himself but didn’t for reasons you won’t ever really know.

You’re reading in your room when you hear the front door open. Suddenly shy and nervous you walk slowly to greet them, you hear them unlatching their blaster belt and bandolier. Turning the corner you can see and hear Din  is tired as he mumbles a welcome to Grogu.

Din is disarming as they look down, “I’m home cyare…”

“Hi.”

Din looks up quickly, startled by your sudden presence. They freeze as you stand barefaced in front of them. Din says nothing as they slowly reach out and take your hand, “How does it feel?”

“Well, I’ve had an extra hour I didn’t know what to do with, and Grogu keeps staring at me.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I feel like something is missing, like I’m pretending I'm someone else.”

“I’m proud of you for trying something new.”

Din heads towards the fresher and you follow them, “Din I’ve been thinking and I think I might not understand exactly how you feel, but I’m here for you, please don’t diminish yourself anymore around me, or present yourself a certain way because you’re afraid you’ll lose me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Din slips their helmet off and leans in to kiss you, their beard is ragged and they have circles under their puffy eyes. Din’s lips linger on yours, you reach up and tangle your fingers into the soft curls at the nape of their neck. They release and sigh, laying their forehead on yours, “Thank you.”

You sit in the fresher and watch Din shower, grateful to see no new injuries, they can’t tell you details about the work they do. So you ramble on about Grogu and gossip from in town. Din is drying off and gets out their shaving kit.  You grew up very isolated and sheltered and the first time you saw a man without a beard, in your mind you thought he was just a very unusual looking woman. So watching Din shave is absolutely fascinating to you, you’ve never watched them.

Din eyes you in the mirror, “Is this okay? You’ve never seen me clean shaven." They hover with a traditional straight razor before starting. “I don’t mind if you watch, you put up with me staring at you during your routine.”

You smile and rest your chin on your knees from where you are perched in the fresher, “I never mind when you watch, is it okay if I stay? I want to see how this is done.”

“Please stay.” Din starts to lean in and give you a peck on the cheek with their face covered in foam.  You squeal and pull away.

“No, Din!”

You’re impressed with how quick and confident Din is and you cringe, worried they might knick themselves. But Din is competent at nearly every skill they have.

Din pauses to tell you, “I love watching you paint your face and your hands and all the time you take to look so…intimidating, without an ounce of weaponry. Sometimes…I wish I could do that.”

“I’m intimidating?”

“You're a powerhouse cyare.” They wipe their face dry with a towel and you see Din’s eyes light up a little as they look at themselves and that brings you joy, to see Din happy.

“I love it.” You hop down from your spot.

“Only say that if you mean it.” Din leans back onto the counter and you lean into them.  

“I’m going into town, would you like to get ready with me?”

That is how you found yourself sitting on the counter as you apply the eyeliner Din picked out for themselves.  It’s a reddish brown and the color goes perfect with their brown eyes and warm skin. Din’s eyes are closed as you perfectly smudge the color onto their lids.  “Okay, open up and look at me.”

Din is still as they watch your face for a reaction, swallowing and saying nothing.

“Wow…oh…wow.”

“Good or bad, I should have gone with a different color.” Din looks over your shoulder into the mirror and smiles, a gorgeous wide smile.

“Told you. Now kiss me because seeing you like this has done something to me and the only remedy is a kiss at the least.”

Din’s lips lay gently on yours before melding into you, softly you feel their tongue beg entrance to your mouth. Warm and strong Din kisses you, you hold their jaw and caress the surface of it with your thumb, smooth.

You pull away, “What do I call my stunning husband who is neither my husband nor my wife, when the time comes?”

“In Mando’a the word is Riduur it means partner, wife, husband. Please let me be your Riduur.” Din squeezes you tight against their bare chest and you rest your head on their strong shoulder.

“I’d be so foolish not to.”

...

This was kinda fun to write and imagine. Quasi-femme Din does things for me for sure... I like to imagine them going further and changing their armor and uniform around on days they feel like it.

Tagging a few who might be interested:

@boliv-jenta @newpathwrites @romanarose @demonsandbullets @morallyinept @lahooozaherr @alltheglitterandtheroar

The next day arrives. I wake as the sun rises, it filters into my room and beams onto my bed, I let its warmth lull me back to sleep. My limbs are tired and heavy after a full week of work. Not forgetting about last night. The image of Din's hulking form throwing the man to the ground stirs me enough to get up and start my day. My heart to heart with Din last night is heavy on my mind. What does Din mean by plan? My nervous energy keeps me static on my couch part of the day. But I get up and go down to my building's training center to work it off. Din is your friend, is this a date? He didn't pose it as a date, he asked if you'd go, he never said date. 

I shower, taking the time to shave my legs so I can like how they feel in a dress…I’ll have to wear a dress…it’s all I have that’s formal except what I’d wear for work. I breathe in the heavy steam wondering if this is a mistake, I’d rather go in my work clothes than put on a dress tonight. Opening my closet, I'm reminded that I hate most everything I own. I pick out a short silver slinky dress I bought a cycle ago but have yet to wear. Putting it on, my chest is small, I'm able to go without an undergarment, showing off my cleavage. It’s fine. I look nice, but my reflection feels foreign today, it looks like someone else or just some other me. Besides…that dress is like a third date dress. It's not a date. I pull out my most tailored pants and jacket with the sparkly lapel. It's something I wear for work, but maybe it’ll do. It's not custom but it's fine. The bacta cleared up any bruises I might have had and I'm grateful. I'm never satisfied with my reflection. I'm not sure if I'll ever be. I realize it's four, and have my robe on when the door chimes.

It's Din, right on time. His broad shoulders made bigger by his pauldrons, he fills the door frame. Today I notice his cape is slung around something, he’s wearing a jet pack along with his usual weaponry. In one arm he has a small duffle and a hefty looking garment bag.

"Come in." I have to gesture for him to enter.

"Good. You're not ready." He lays the bags out on my sofa. He takes his shiny helmet off, his armor is freshly polished. Holy Hoth he looks good. His curls are perfectly brushed back but loose. His facial hair is trimmed close, he's left just the mustache and chin. It suits him perfectly. He takes his gloves off and sets them down by his helmet. After last night's intimate chat, I'm more comfortable around him than ever and awkward. 

"Hey man, I'm almost ready, I just haven't dressed…or attempted my hair." I say as my hand gets tangled in my annoying locks. "You on the other hand look amazing, I like the mustache." He's out of my league.

"Thank you, it was a conscious choice. I'm glad you noticed,” He gives that little crooked grin and, Ugh, at this point I don’t know if it's attraction or envy.

"What's in the bags?" I poke a finger at them curiously.

"That, and I hope I'm not overstepping, is a gift. Go ahead,” He motions to the bags before putting his hand on his hip.

I pick up the garment bag, it's heavier than it looks. After laying it down to unzip I pull out several articles of clothing. The first is a long, shimmery, slinky, dark purple dress with a plunging neckline and no sleeves. The next is a tux jacket, no, two complete black real and true tuxes, one has a silky black lapel and the other snakeskin, and it looks like dress shirt options too.

"This is for me? Din…I'm speechless. I'm literally….how?" I nod as I recall  "Oh, you sized me up. These are incredible. Way nicer than anything I own. Are you taking pity on me? No. It's fine, I'll allow it. This is so thoughtful!" I stand admiring the fabric in-between my fingers.

"There are two tuxes there, one more fitted than the other. The tailor suggested…since I wasn't sure which and had precise measurements. The dress was a shot in the dark,” Din looks at me shyly. He can afford it, after a quick search last night after he left, I learned that Mandalore is doing pretty well these days, and Ive6 seen him win, more than once here on Canto Bight. 

"You hit the mark buddy. I can't pick which to wear tonight. I’m feeling…it’s dumb…" It's hard to meet his eyes, as I'm still unsure of what tonight means between the two of us.

Din looks at me like he did last night, with concern, genuine, “Feeling what?”

I have to fight back the lump in my throat before I open my mouth, “I feel…I can’t find the words…I don’t like how I look today. I”m worried these clothes will go to waste…”

"I assure you, they won’t, and maybe I can help some more. Open the other bag." He gestures to the duffle. "After our conversation last night. I just thought I'd offer, I understand if you say no." He crosses his arms and shifts his weight as he watches me.

"What's this?" I say looking into the bag, not quite registering what it is.

"Are you still thinking about a haircut?" Din shrugs.

"You're offering? Do you even know how? No offense." I pull out the kit that's in the bag. It's all the tools needed.

"If I didn't, I wouldn’t offer. I cut my own hair for years. Before that, in the Fighting Corp, in the short time before we swore the creed, I was my unit's unofficial barber." He explains his unexpected skill. 

"I…I don't know?" I answer vaguely at first. 

I think about all the comments I've gotten from well meaning people I don't really know; Why don't you wear more make-up, I'd love to see you done up, you should wear your hair up, your hair is so pretty, why don't you have a boyfriend, are you married? Now you think of all the questions you know will come, Why did you cut your hair? I'm not brave enough to do that, I'd look bad with short hair, I'm not a fan of short hair, why did you do it Nev?

"Yes. If you are willing to go through all the trouble, I will gladly accept this offer." I scoop up the bag and drop it on a table in the living room and put down a blanket and pull up a chair. I crack a window open to let in the fresh air. I prop a full length mirror up in front of the chair, no way i'm letting him do this without seeing. I changed out of my robe into pants and a fitted sleeveless shirt. 

"What made you settle on my offer?" Din asks, laying out the supplies on a side table by the chair.

"It's what I want, and…no matter what I do, someone has a problem. But, it's literally just that, their problem. I'm tired of…editing who I am to protect how they might feel and react." I sound almost angry, exasperated. "I'm…just tired of disappointing myself."

Din nods along, "Well said. But don't thank me yet, it's been awhile since I've cut someone else's hair." Din makes a nervous face, before he puts a hand up to clarify, "I know what I'm doing and trust me." 

That makes me laugh, "Okay, well. That was very convincing." 

Din laughs under his breath, his eyes follow all my movements as I arrange the set up.

"You're stronger than I imagined." He's looking at my arms…apparently he’s imagined them…

"You think I look strong?" I'm surprised. I started exercising less than a cycle ago, but struggled to see the change even though…it must be obvious. I look down and do a little flex, my bicep pops right up. Oh, I guess I haven't paid attention.

"You ever punch back?" Din asks.

I shake my head no, like the suggestion is absurd.

"I bet they'd feel it if you did. I'll teach you how to use those." He points at my arms.

"I'll take you up on that offer." I watch Din subtlety get more comfortable before he cuts my hair.

His jetpack is set to the side, he removes his deep red cape from around his neck, then his pauldrons. He still looks broad but he just shrunk down. It's not a date, he's your friend. Then he takes off both vambraces and proceeds to push his sleeves up his strong forearms. He has a tattoo in red ink on the underside of his left forearm, it's the same symbol as his signet and large. He flips the scissors in his hand like a pistol, he's getting lost in thought about the task at hand. His knuckles on his dominant hand are still bruised.

I take a step forward and reach for Dins hand but stop short, "You're bruised, does it hurt?"

"What?" It clicks and he raises his brows and looks at his hand. "No, not really. Your neck looks better." He reaches up quickly to touch me and I flinch. He notices, and his expression is one of sympathy, "Sorry." He drops his hand.

I shake my head, "Don't be. It'd be worse if you hadn't been there, I'm sure."

My mind wanders to how many scars he must have and how used to pain he must be. I force myself to move on from that moment. I sit down, and prop my ankle up on my knee and look at myself in the mirror, I kinda see it now, my arms do look relatively strong. My shoulders look more solid. 

"So." Din stands in front of me, arms crossed, holding a comb. I'm staring again, I pull my focus back to reality and put my feet flat on the floor.

"So…well…I liked that haircut I pointed out last night." I cringe nervously.

"The pushed back?" Din makes a motion with his hand.

I shake my head no. "Next to that person." I raise my eyebrows. "Is that too much to ask? Too complicated?"

"No. I'd be honored. As long as you're sure it's what you want." Din says, his eyes shimmer in the daylight.

"Very sure." I run my fingers through my hair and pull it up and back off my face. "I'm ready. But what if my head looks weird, what if my face looks bad?"

Din throws his head back a little as he laughs lightly, "Do you have any scars on your head? Any dents?" I shake my head no with a grin. "Then don't worry about it. Besides, It'd be hard to make you look bad." Din reassures me with a compliment.

You squint at Din, taking in the last sentence, "Alright. I believe you. Let's do it," I nod to confirm my decision.

The Mand'alor stands behind me, in the mirror he looks huge compared to my small frame.  His hands are as big as my head but his touch is gentle. I remember, he has a kid. I imagine he's just as gentle with Grogu. Din brushes through my hair, it's such a novel feeling, no one's done it for me…in years. He's quiet as he works. I can only watch his hands in the mirror, until he bends down, now I watch his face as he meticulously parts the hair on top and at the crown of my head up and clips it out of the way. Leaving most of my hair loose. I relax more, seeing that he does seem to have a grasp on the process.

"This older lady down the hall, she's always petting me if I run into her in the building, so shiny, like my daughter's. I mean, it's sweet, but it…"

"Makes you uncomfortable," Din says.

"It does.”

"Ready?" He asks.

I nod. 

He pauses and drops his hand, "I'm going to need a verbal acknowledgement before I continue," he says it in a way you can tell he's only partly joking.

"Yes, I'm sure. I've been imagining this for a long time. Just cut, before I do it myself!" I'm all nerves and excitement.

He doesn't pause as he holds the long loose hair in-between his thick fingers and cuts it off, no longer than an inch. 

I try to hide my glee, but I see his eyes dart to mine in the mirror and it makes me squint for some reason. I clear my throat, "I'm good, keep going." I reassure him. I hear him fiddle. He works so fast, I'm not really taking time to register what a big step I've just taken. Then he stands beside me.  

He's focused as his hand guides me to tilt my head sideways so he gets a good angle. I guess this would be easier if I was up higher. He puts the trimmers in front of my ear and swipes up carefully to my temple. They vibrate a little and the sensation is stimulating. I smile slowly again as I watch with each pass my hair turn to much shorter soft fuzz all around my head.

"We can stop here." He says as he adjusts the length of his trimmers. Din takes into consideration the drastic change more than I do. 

I rub my hand on the fresh cut, it's incredibly soft, "Man, I wasn't sure before but I am now. Do it." I wiggle in my chair, brushing hair off my lap, enthusiastic for the final result.

He puts his hands on either side of my head, guiding me to look straight ahead. Din bends down, I can feel his body heat radiate off him. His deep voice is close to my ear, I can almost feel his breath, "It's important you keep your head level." 

"Okay, you sure you can do it, I mean, I don't want to look like Boba Fett when this is done." I half joke.

Din stands upright, "I Haven't been under this much pressure since I freed Mandalore.” He mumbles, “I said I can do it." 

I mutter a response as I square my shoulders and hold my head level. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Din bends back down to get the angle he wants, his voice again near my ear, "Thanks." You can almost catch a half smirk.

He takes a little more off leaving part of it stubbly and the sensation of the air touching my scalp is surreal.

"Oh!" I squeak out, staying as still as I can. I watch Din in the mirror, he doesn't flinch at my reaction as he makes his way around my head. "I'm just excited." I whisper carefully.

He smiles big now, his eyes crinkle as he looks at me in the mirror, "Good." 

"This is so wizard…woah."I reach up and touch the stubble quickly.

I want to watch myself except I can't help but watch Din's concentrated face as he meticulously carves away at my hair. He's simultaneously relaxed but his energy is also a little intense. I notice the bruises on his knuckles again. He stands upright and puts his fingers on the now almost bare part of my head above my ears, "tilt down." He directs me to look down and moves my head gently when he needs a different angle. He perfectly blends the short stubble with the soft longer fuzz of my dark hair. He rubs his slightly calloused hand over it, checking his work and it makes my whole body tickle. He's meticulous and serious.

"Now, if you want it closer down here, I can use a razor. Then it'd be just like what you saw last night." He runs his big finger around my ear and the nape of my neck.

I think about it, distracted by his touch, "Yeah! If you can." I'm a bit overwhelmed but grateful to share this moment with him.

"I can. Told you I knew what I was doing." Din says as he blows hair off the trimmers blades. 

"I was just testing your commitment or resolve or something." 

"Sure you were." Din says with a tone as he takes a gel and rubs it at the nape of my neck and around my ears. It's cold and I visibly shiver, the touch and experience is sending me into a bit of sensory overload. But I have a handle on it.

"You okay? This is what you wanted?" He kneels down next to me, sincerely worried. I think he was more nervous than me.

"It's just cold but…" I turn my head and my nose nearly touches his, I almost whisper, caught off guard by how close his face is. Our eyes meet, my voice comes out softer than expected, "I'm fine…Din." 

He pauses and stares into my eyes. His voice is hushed, "Green…never noticed your eyes have some green in them." 

My breathing suddenly becomes less relaxed. He smells amazing and my brain freezes.

"They do…yeah." I get lost in his gaze. The curtain blows open a little and when the sunlight hits his brown eyes they turn into beautiful swirling bronze planets. I want to explore them. He breaks my eye contact. I look forward into the mirror, quickly stepping back into reality. I clear my throat and look back into the mirror.

Dins tone is suddenly commanding,"Don't move, this is sharp."  I can’t think about anything except Dins warm hand on my neck. Until the warmth disappears and I’m left with a chill. "Your fresher is through there?" Din points down the small hall.

"Yeah." I answer as he walks away. I take the moment to turn my head side to side. I can see my bone structure better, my eyes look bigger, my neck longer. I feel like I'm being transformed. I rub my hand around to feel my head and stare at myself as I do. I notice my age more, ever so subtle lines when I squint. It's not a bad thing, I just look more mature. The soft fuzz fades perfectly into the smooth perimeter. The texture feels amazing and I rub my fingers over the grit of my hair. I think about how long I've wanted this but felt like the choice wasn't mine, still afraid of ghosts in my past. I don't realize my eyes are tearing up. 

Din comes back with a small damp towel, his voice comes out drenched in disappointment when he sees me, "You hate it. Dank Farrik…" He shakes his head and looks crestfallen.

"What?!" I immediately shut him down. "No Din. It's amazing, I'm sorry, I guess I just got overwhelmed. It's exactly what I want. Seriously." I reach up to him, my fingertips graze his tattooed forearm as he walks by me. 

Din sighs and wipes the very warm towel over the fresh shave. He holds it there,"I was about to feel really horrible. That old lady that pets you is gonna track me down." He laughs under his breath. 

That makes me cackle, "Yeah man, Ms. Z is going to kill you."

I close my eyes as he holds the warm towel around the back of my head and neck, "mmm, that feels good." I murmur. His other hand lingers on my shoulder before he pulls away quickly. 

"When you go to someone else, make sure they do this because your skin is delicate." he massages the back of my neck with the warm towel as he falls silent. 

"Yeah? Okay I'll do that." I say under my breath. I'm settling down and relaxing into his touch now. I open my eyes when he clears his throat and pulls the towel away. I look again in the mirror as he unclips my hair from on top. It cascades down covering all the work Din just did. It makes me laugh. I run my fingers through the length one last time. I think about the rules that were forced on me but I never embraced, those beliefs were never mine, if anything it feels like shedding someone else's skin and now I get to feel the sun on my own terms, not theirs. This is for me and to help me embrace the person I know I am.

Dins fingers send a tingle through my scalp as he cards through my hair. He gathers it together, "Any last requests?" He jokes before he cuts most of it off.

"Just leave it long enough to swoosh back or forward or up…and, I don't want it in my eyes, if that makes sense. You can decide how short." I make a motion with my hand.

Din nods and cuts, the scissors are so sharp as they slice it with ease. Din moves methodically as he pulls his fingers through my hair and cuts more away. He focuses on the back first. I've never had a real haircut, so I'm assuming it's going well. I break the silence.

"You're enjoying this more than me, I think. Being creative. Do you do other creative things?" I scrunch my nose as little hairs land on it. 

"No, this is about as creative as I get. I'm more mechanically minded." Din answers plainly as he brushes my hair down onto my forehead, it almost blocks my vision. He comes to stand in front of me and kneels down, trimming and pulling strands until it's no longer in my eyes. It feels different, like all my follicles are standing straight up. My head might be in shock. He ruffles my hair with his hand and I'd let him do that all day if I could. He's blocking the mirror and I can't help but stare at his face again. His nose is magnificent. I like his full bottom lip. "Let me know if it's not short enough on top. But you wanted to be able to brush it back." He says as he makes a few last snips. Are his eyes avoiding mine or is he just focused on the task?

"Do I look like a different person Din or would you still recognize me?" I watch his eyes.

"I think you look like you…but some people might not realize it's you." He brushes his hand carefully over my nose and cheeks, wiping away little hairs. The touch feels personal, in a way I can't describe. "I wasn't joking. It's really been an honor." He ruffles my hair again and tilts his head, his expression is sweet, he sounds tender, "You've been hiding from all of us." He stands up straight and steps away so I can see myself in the mirror. 

I'm momentarily speechless, examining my reflection. It's not too long on top, or too short. I run my hand through the length, pushing it side to side. I play with it, I can swoosh it back off my face or let it fall over my forehead. It's soft and still glossy, it almost looks black at this length. I lay my hand flat at the back of my head, reveling in the new sensation.

"See, no weirdness. Still freakishly shiny though. You do have one scar." Din walks back behind me.

"I do? Where?" I turn my head trying to see it.

"It's right here.” He takes his finger and rubs it back and forth behind my ear into my hairline. "Feel. Press hard." He takes my index finger and places it where his was. His hand swallows mine as he guides my finger to the spot. "Surprised you weren't aware of it. Probably happened when you were young."

I feel a perfectly smooth soft straight line in-between the stubble. "Damn…is it ugly?"

"Ugly? That's not fair. I like it. Adds character. I have a huge, crooked scar on the back of my head. Keeps me from ever cutting it this short." he says as he rubs my fuzzy head again. I scrunch my face at the sensation and his admission.

"Don't you dare cut your hair this short…sorry. I know that goes against everything we've discussed. It's just, I've only just seen your hair and it's perfect…so…" I trail off. I keep touching my hair and gazing at my reflection. "I guess this'll take maintenance huh…feel like, I can't believe I waited so long. Wow. I can't stop touching it. This feels amazing. It's like…it's masculine but not only…it's kinda delicate too, like me. I think my face looks pretty good huh?" I laugh a little and can't stop smiling.

"Well, you said my face is good but yours is better." Din starts wiping off the tools with a towel and putting the supplies away. 

"I'm excited to try on the clothes you bought. After I clean up the small animal we killed." I look at the piles of hair on the floor. I feel Din's eyes on me.

"I'm biased because I did it, but it looks good. Don't be uncomfortable when people stare. You'll get used to it," He puts his hand on his hip as he takes in his work.

"When people stare? Damn, is it too much? I'm trying too hard?" I ask as I shake the hair to one side of the blanket.

"No Nev," Din says carefully as he puts his cape back on.

"Why would they stare?" I grab a small waste bin.

"Maker Nev, you really don't see yourself." Din rolls back down his sleeves and puts his vambraces back on. I watch his red tattoo flex with the muscle underneath and his bruised knuckles.

I pause cleaning and stand to look in the mirror. I see the muscles I've been actively working on. I take in the contours of my face, big eyes, gently arching eyebrows, high cheekbones, and a subtle jawline. "I look good?" I say quietly.

"Very,”  Din says. "When people stare, it's either from fascination, attraction, intimidation…all three. Trust me." He says as he connects the pauldron with his signet, almost cocky.

I watch him, in his beskar, tall, broad, reflective, "I guess you would know a thing or two about people staring. Walking around looking like you do. But you have a helmet to hide behind." I touch my shorn head, "Oof, now I'm exposed." I pause. "I've been punched, groped, spit at. If all that shit is going to happen I might as well have my…metaphorical armor on..."

"That's the spirit….seriously!? Spit!? I'm going to teach you how to fight back." Din looks at his Vambrace,"Why don't I leave you to finish getting ready. This didn't take as long as I thought. I'll be back to pick you up for the races."

"What time is your dinner with Karga?" 

"Oh, that already happened, I came here instead," Din admits.

"You skipped dinner to come give me clothes and a haircut?!" 

"Yeah…I like the guys but, I knew this had more potential to be, well, fun." Din shrugs as he puts his gloves on. 

I still wonder if this is a date and try to ask without being direct.

"It was fun! Do you always give your dates very dramatic haircuts." That wasn't how I should have asked. Too cheeky. Ugh. I nervously move to tuck non existent locks behind my ear.

"No. That was just for you," he says as he holds his helmet under his arm, he winks, I want to stumble backwards.

"How about I meet you in the lobby in one hour then?" I ask my possible date. I'd offer to let him stay but want the moment to myself and how does he know that?

I try on the dress. It fits perfectly. I stand and stare, for the first time I like how I look in a dress. It makes no sense and because that makes no sense to me right now…I try on the fitted tux. The pants hug me perfectly. I pair the jacket with a white dress shirt that fits me well, I can button it closed if I want, no compression needed.

 I choose to not button the tuxedo shirt up all the way and to not wear an undergarment, with the help of some tape. Oh, this is amazing. The jacket is perfectly tailored. I feel the inside pockets, there's a small box. I open it, it's cufflinks, they're iridescent, a shell perhaps. I stare at myself in the mirror, Din is right, I look more like me than ever. I try to see the scar behind my ear and try to remember how I got it. Nothing comes to mind which surprises me given the size of it. I add a winged eyeliner to my lids and put on a touch of subtle pink gloss to my lips. I look the most dramatic I think I ever have, definitely dapper, certainly glamorous. I can't stop smiling. I wish I had some comfortable shoes that were as nice as this tux, so I have to opt for heels. I stand in the full length mirror. I feel sexy, and strong. I mess with my new hair one last time, putting a bit of hair wax in it. It looks purposefully disheveled. I love it so much.

I lock my door and head down the hall getting my bearings in my heels. The cold air in the hall rushes around my head in a way I've never experienced. I feel naked in a way. I hear a door open, I turn, it's Ms Z. 

"Nev?" She squints and walks closer.

"Hi Ms Z. Now before you ask…" I start before she interrupts me.

"Look at that!"She invades my space by rubbing the side of my head. But she does what I don't expect. She smiles big. "So sharp! Like my son! Very dapper." 

"You like it Ms Z?" I guess, lacking my own motherly figure, I wouldn't mind her approval.

"Very much. This suit! You have a date? Who's the lucky one?" She asks.

"Well, I'm not sure. I think we're just friends. Actually, he cut my hair and bought me this tux and now…well, he's taking me to the races."  

Ms Z frowns, worriedly, "He dressed you…he cut your hair…"

"Oh, no. We talked last night. I mentioned I wanted this haircut and this suit. I mentioned it first. No. Ms Z. It's…Din Djarin, do you know who that is?" I ease her worry immediately. I think she was worried I was…selling myself or something. She has an interesting background, I don't know much about it.

"The Mandalorian? He bought those cufflinks."She grabs my arm to examine them. 

I reply suspiciously, "Yeah?"

"He likes you. It's a date." She says matter of factly.

"Well, you seem certain." I laugh under my breath.

"I know because I sold him those this morning. He said they're a surprise for his date. I asked if his date was handsome and he said, they're stunning." she reaches up and touches my hair again. Something's changed, I don't mind the touch this time.

"Oh." Is all I manage.

"Have a wonderful night. He is quite the catch." She smiles and walks on down to visit another neighbor.

The lift is empty and I stare at my reflection, I can't believe that's me. Din thinks I'm stunning. Maybe he wanted to avoid more conversation? He said friend.

The doors open to a busy lobby. Just as I step out I see Din's iconic beskar helmet and red cape, he turns around. I freeze. Unsure why. Din doesn't move, his helmet stays fixed on me. I feel it now, the eyes that were on Din are now on me. My cheeks flush. I take a careful stride towards Din, feeling the eyes in the room follow me. I stop right in front of him. 

"Maybe I should have buttoned up…" Before I say anything else Din takes his helmet off in the lobby full of people.

He leans down, his velvet voice soft in my ear, "Told you people would stare."

...