#soft mando

The first time Din Djarin brought the child to her workshop, he didn't intend to stay. He'd needed repairs—routine stuff, nothing serious. The nearest port had been a gamble, but the cantina chatter had mentioned a mechanic who worked fast and didn't ask questions.

What the chatter hadn't mentioned was her.

Y/N stood beneath the flickering lights of her hangar, a hydrospanner tucked behind her ear, sleeves rolled to her elbows, grease smeared across her forearm like war paint. She'd looked up when he'd landed, a frown already forming on her face. "Ship's banged up," she'd said flatly. "You fly through an asteroid field for fun?"

Din had stared.

She hadn't flinched at the armor. Hadn't stammered at the helmet. Had just... looked at him like he was any other customer.

Something in his chest had shifted. "Can you fix it?" he'd asked, voice gruff.

"Can I—" She'd laughed then, bright and sharp. "Sweetheart, I could fix this thing in my sleep. The question is whether you can afford me."

The term of endearment had hit him like a blaster bolt.

Sweetheart.

He'd paid double just to hear her say it again. It became routine after that.

Any excuse to land at her dock. A "minor" system glitch. A "questionable" stabilizer. A "routine" inspection that he absolutely could have done himself but didn't because—

Because she'd smile at him when she saw his ship.

Because she'd ruffle Grogu's ears and coo at him.

Because she'd call him sweetheart again, casual and easy, like it meant nothing at all.

It meant everything to him.

Months in, the crush was unbearable.

Din had thought—foolishly—that seeing her regularly would lessen the pull. That familiarity would dull the ache, it did the opposite.

Every time she leaned over his ship's paneling, he noticed the curve of her back. Every time she laughed, he memorized the sound. Every time she touched Grogu—gods, the way she touched Grogu—

The child had taken to her immediately.

The first time she'd held him, Grogu had grabbed her thumb and refused to let go. She'd laughed, delighted, and Din had watched her press a kiss to the top of the little green head, and something in his chest had cracked.

Want.

Pure, aching, devastating want, he wanted to be the one she looked at like that, wanted to feel her hands on him, wanted to hear her laugh against his mouth.

Wanted to claim her, to mark her as his, to never hear anyone else call her sweetheart ever again—

Except he couldn't.

Because she was just his mechanic.

Because he was just a client.

Because the helmet was between them, and the Creed was between them, and everything was between them.

"I can hear you brooding from here."

Din startled.

Y/N was standing at the ramp of his ship, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Behind her, Grogu was playing with some scrap metal she'd given him, babbling happily.

"I don't brood," Din said flatly.

"You absolutely brood. You've been standing there for twenty minutes staring at the same wall."

He had been. Because she'd been working on his ship, and her shirt had ridden up just slightly when she'd reached for a tool, and he'd been forced to watch a strip of bare skin above her waistband like a man dying of thirst.

Twenty minutes.

"It's a nice wall," he managed.

She snorted. "You're impossible."

You're beautiful, he thought. You're everything. You're driving me insane.

"You need anything else?" she asked, wiping her hands on her coveralls. "Ship's good to go. I even patched that dent you didn't mention."

"I don't—" Din stopped. "What dent?"

"Left stabilizer. Looked like it took a hit from something small. Debris, maybe."

He hadn't even noticed. Because he'd been too busy watching her.

"I'll add it to your bill," she said, turning away.

"Wait."

She paused.

"You—" Din's voice came out rougher than intended. "You do good work."

Y/N turned back, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Was that a compliment, Mando?"

He said nothing.

Her smile widened. "I'm gonna mark this day on my calendar. Din Djarin, giving compliments."

"Don't get used to it."

"Too late. I'm already insufferable." She winked at him.

Stars. Din's heart stopped. The wink. The smile. The way she'd said his name—his name, not some alias, his—

He wanted to kiss her so badly it physically hurt.

Later that night, he watched her put Grogu to bed.

The child had refused to sleep in his bunk, demanding uppies until she'd scooped him up, cradling him against her chest like he was the most precious thing in the galaxy.

"Shh," she murmured, rocking gently. "Time to sleep, Cyar'ika."

Grogu's eyes fluttered. Din leaned against the wall of her workshop, arms crossed, trying very hard not to feel like his chest was caving in.

She looked so natural holding him.

Like she was made for it.

Like she was made for them.

"I know you're watching," she said softly, not looking up.

"I'm keeping watch."

"You're staring."

"Same thing."

She laughed quietly, careful not to wake Grogu. "You're ridiculous."

I'm in love with you, Din thought. I'm completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with you, and you don't even know.

"He's asleep," she murmured a moment later, tucking Grogu into his bunk. The child's hand reached out, grabbing her finger even in sleep, and she smiled so tenderly Din had to look away.

"Thank you," he said roughly. "For—for being good to him."

She looked up, surprised. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"People aren't always—" He stopped. "They don't always see him as a child."

Her expression softened. "I see him as a child," she said quietly. "I see you as a parent. A good one."

Din's throat went tight.

"I know what you're doing," she continued, stepping closer. "Coming back here. Finding excuses. Paying double."

His heart stopped.

"Din."

His name.

His name.

"I know you have a thing for me," she said, and her voice was teasing but her eyes were warm, so warm, and she was so close—

"I don't—" He couldn't breathe. "That's not—"

"It's okay," she said softly. "I have a thing for you too."

The world stopped.

"What?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "You think I didn't notice? You've been pining so hard I can practically feel it. You get this look when I hold Grogu—like you're watching something precious and you're terrified it'll disappear."

"Y/N—"

"And you always stand too close when I'm working," she continued, stepping closer. "Your hand almost touches mine when you hand me tools. You call me 'ma'am' like it means something."

"It does," he got out. "Stars, it does."

She reached up slowly.

Din froze.

Her fingers touched the edge of his helmet. Not pulling, just... resting. "Can I see you?" she asked softly. "Just once?"

Din's throat worked. The helmet was his protection. His identity. His soul.

But she was asking, and she was looking at him like he was already everything.

"You can't tell anyone," he managed. "I—the Creed—" "I know," she whispered. "I'll never tell. I promise."

His hands lifted to the helmet.

Shaking.

He'd never done this before, never shown anyone, but this was her. Slowly, he lifted the helmet.

The cool air hit his face.

He saw her eyes widen. Her lips part. "Oh," she breathed.

He looked away, suddenly self-conscious. The scars. The darkness under his eyes. The raw, unguarded humanity of his face.

"Look at me," she said.

He did.

Her hand came up, cupping his cheek. "There you are," she said softly. "I've been waiting to really meet you."

Din's eyes burned.

She smiled, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone. "You're beautiful, Din."

"No—"

"You are. Don't argue."

"I've got scars—"

"I love the scars."

"Y/N—"

She kissed him.

Soft. Gentle. So careful, like he was something precious. Din made a sound—something broken and desperate—and kissed her back.

His hands found her waist. Hers tangled in his hair. The kiss deepened, messy and wanting, and it wasn't enough, it would never be enough, he needed more, needed her, needed— "Patu," a sleepy voice mumbled.

They broke apart.

Grogu was standing in the doorway of his bunk, rubbing his eyes, looking affronted. "Go back to sleep," Din managed, breathless.

Grogu made a judgmental sound.

"It's bedtime," Y/N said, and her voice was shaky, her cheeks flushed, and Din had done that— Grogu waddled over and demanded uppies.

Y/N laughed softly, scooping him up, Din watched her press a kiss to the child's head, watched Grogu snuggle into her chest, and felt the familiar ache.

Except now it was different, now she knew.

Now she'd looked at him—really looked—and hadn't run.

"I'll take him," Din said quietly.

She looked up. "Are you sure?"

"Come on, kid." He reached for Grogu. "Time to sleep."

The child whined but let himself be transferred, Din tucked him in, still helmetless, and Grogu reached up to pat his face sleepily.

"Da-da," the child mumbled, Din's heart cracked.

He heard Y/N's soft intake of breath, when he turned, she was watching him with that same look—the one she'd always given him when he was being too intense, too soft, too much.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head slowly. "I think I love you," she said. "Is that crazy?"

Din stared. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "That's too fast. We barely—"

"Y/N."

She stopped.

He crossed the distance between them in two steps, framing her face with his hands, his forehead pressed to hers.

"I've loved you since the first time you called me sweetheart," he said roughly.

Her laugh was wet. "That was so long ago." "I know."

"You've been pining for months?" "Years," he corrected. "It feels like years."

"Stars," she whispered, and then she was kissing him again, and he was kissing her back, and Grogu was making disgusted noises in the background, and nothing had ever felt so right.

The mechanic and the Mandalorian.

Unlikely.

Impossible.

Everything.

"Can I keep the helmet off?" he murmured against her lips.

She laughed. "I'd like that."

"Good." "Also—" She tugged him closer by the collar of his shirt. "I think Grogu's asleep now." Din glanced at the bunk.

The child was out cold, blanket pulled up to his chin.

"Finally," Din said, and kissed her again. The kiss deepened.

Din's hands slid from her face down her shoulders, her arms, her waist—gripping like she might disappear if he let go. Y/N's fingers were in his hair, tugging, pulling him closer, and he made a sound against her mouth that was almost animal.

"Bed," she breathed. "Din—bed—"

"No."

He backed her against the wall instead.

The metal clanged beneath her shoulders, and she gasped, and he swallowed it with his mouth, hungry and desperate. His hips pressed forward, pinning her there, and she could feel everything—the hard length of him through his trousers, the heat of his bare chest against her palms, the raw, shaking need in every line of his body. "Stars," she whispered.

"I've waited so long," he said against her throat, voice wrecked. "You don't understand. I've ached for you." "Show me."

Din's hands found the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head.

Her breasts spilled free, and he groaned—deep and guttural—like the sight of her was almost too much. His mouth descended immediately, hot and wet, kissing down her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her chest. "Din—"

"Tell me what you want," he murmured, tongue dragging over her nipple. "Tell me, Mesh'la dala." (pretty woman)

"I want—" She gasped as his teeth grazed her. "I want you."

His laugh was low and dark. "You have me. You've always had me."

His hands worked at her trousers, shoving them down her hips. She kicked them off blindly, and his mouth was on hers again, tongue sliding against tongue, messy and wet and perfect.

Din pulled back just long enough to free himself from his own trousers.

Her eyes dropped.

His length was thick and hard, flushed at the tip, and she felt her mouth go dry.

"I—"

"Look at me," he ordered softly.

She did.

His hand found her thigh, lifting it, wrapping it around his hip.

"Tell me you want this," he said, and his voice was shaking. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," she breathed. "I've always wanted you, you impossible man—"

He kissed her again, cutting her off, and then he was pressing into her.

Slow at first.

Then harder.

Y/N cried out against his mouth as he filled her, stretching her, claiming her. His forehead dropped to hers, breath ragged, and for a moment he just held there, buried to the hilt inside her.

"Kriff," he gritted out. "You feel—you feel incredible."

"Move," she begged. "Please."

He did.

The first thrust was deep, punishing, driving her up against the wall. The second was harder. The third had her nails digging into his shoulders, her breath coming in desperate little gasps.

"Look at you," Din groaned, watching her face. "So beautiful. Taking me so well."

"Din—"

"Say my name again."

She did, and he thrust harder in response, his hips slamming into hers with a rhythm that was anything but gentle.

"Fuck," she gasped.

"That's it." His mouth found her throat, biting, sucking, marking her. "That's my girl. Taking everything I give you."

His hand slid between them, fingers finding her clit.

She bucked instantly, a broken sound escaping her.

"You're close," he observed, voice dark with satisfaction. "I can feel you fluttering around me."

"Don't stop—"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

His thumb circled faster, pressure perfect, and his thrusts grew more erratic—harder, deeper, driving into her like he wanted to fuse their bodies together.

"You're mine," he said against her ear, voice low and possessive. "Say it."

"I'm yours—"

"All mine."

"Yes—"

He kissed her sloppily, teeth catching her lip, and she felt her orgasm crest, her walls clenching around him.

"That's it," he encouraged, breathless. "Come for me. Let me feel it."

She shattered.

Din watched her fall apart, watched her head fall back, watched her mouth open on a silent cry—and he kept going, thrusting through her climax, chasing his own.

"Kriff, cyar'ika," he groaned, slamming into her. "I'm gonna—"

"Inside," she gasped. "I want you inside."

His control snapped.

With a guttural sound, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling into her in thick, hot pulses. His forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged, hips still twitching with the aftershocks.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then Din laughed—soft and disbelieving. "Stars," he murmured. "I love you."

She smiled, cupping his face. "I love you too." He kissed her again, slow this time, savoring.

Eventually, he pulled out reluctantly, and she whimpered at the loss. He caught her when her legs buckled, lifting her into his arms like she weighed nothing.

"Bed," he said firmly. "Now." "Still bossy."

"Always."

He carried her to the small cot in the corner of her workshop, laying her down gently before climbing in beside her. She curled into his chest immediately, and he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"I mean it, you know," she mumbled sleepily. "I've loved you for a while." "I know," he said softly. "I could tell."

"How?" He smiled against her hair. "You looked at me the same way I looked at you. Like I was something precious."

She laughed quietly. "You are." "You're precious," he corrected. "You and the kid. You're everything."

Grogu's tiny snore echoed from the bunk. Din and Y/N both stifled laughter.

"Well," she whispered. "Maybe we should try to sleep."

"Probably."

She paused. "We're going to have to explain the wall marks tomorrow." Din groaned. "Don't remind me."

Everyone hated you. “She’s evil!” they would all scream. Regardless if it was to your face or behind your back you sensed their hate for you radiating off them. I’m not evil. You would tell yourself as a child, but as you grew you started to believe what everyone said, because it wasn’t just kids from the school you went to that said it, but it was that guy who owned the cantina, that Jedi you accidentally bumped into on Yavin 4, and that bounty hunter you had to work with once. Everyone said it. But it all came to a point when you became what everyone said you were. Shot everyone glares, killed bounties that could’ve been kept alive, sliced anyone who dared to argue with you on the spot…. But that all changed when the Mandalorian and his adorable son came into your life of darkness. He pulled you out of the dark shell you hid yourself in and exposed the sad little girl whose childhood was taken away from her, of course in a good way. As time went by you began to trust the Mandalorian with your secrets, even the ones you didn’t want to admit to yourself. Like your childhood, how the sith raised you up until you were 14 years of age, how Darth Maul trained you how to use your sabers, how you ran away from that life and practically raised yourself.  You told him everything but he…. Treat you differently. Like you were some special flower, and if he loosened his grip on you,  you would fly away with the wind. He treated you like you were normal, and you loved it. You felt selfish in a way, wanting to keep him all to yourself but you tried your best not to let it show. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cantina was bustling with life. Tables were crowded with many species with Twi’lek’s and some humans putting on a small performance. You and Din decided to lay low for a while… Omera and Winta gladly offered to take care of Grogu, whilst you two had some alone time. You ordered some soup and Din of course ordered nothing, just enjoying the scenery before him. Everyone was so loud here, on the Crest it was quite quiet, you weren’t used to such surroundings. You felt eyes on you. It made you nervous in a way. Why was everyone glancing at you? Shouldn’t the attention be on the Mandalorian, their rarer than just a typical female woman right? Murmurs and whispers spread like a wildfire. Din could see how you became uncomfortable…. Maybe he’ll just take the soup and go when it came. “She’s a sith!” you overheard someone say. Your chest became heavy, words forming and then dying on your tongue, Din had helped you control your temper and how you acted to certain things but you WERE NOT a sith. At least not anymore, sure you have the force and you still have your lightsaber, but that life wasn’t yours anymore. “She’s going to kill us all!” Another maiden whisper-yells. That’s it.  Within a blink of an eye you’ve got every person in the cantina up against the wall. Your lightsaber was ignited. Angry fumes hissed as red flames danced in the air. Your outstretched hand (which held everyone with the force) closed, forming a fist out of anger. Everyone screamed, terrified. “I am not a sith! Not anymore! Why is it so hard for anyone to understand that!” You shout, any thought of Din leaving your mind. A leather hand wraps around your closed fist and tugs gently at it. Immediately you drop everyone to the floor and swing with your saber at Din’s head. When you realise it was only Din, you stop your saber mid-air. Din could hear the hiss of your saber next to his ears, but he wasn’t afraid, he knew you could sense his fear and that would only upset you more. “Mesh’la it’s ok if they think you're a sith, but giving in to your anger, like then, is only going to scare them more, why do you need everyone to believe you, when I do?” He asks, voice like honey, despite the fact that it was modulated. “I… I’m sorry…. I can’t help it.” you say with a frown, tears threatening to fall any minute. “Come on, let’s get out of here, we can eat in the Crest, yeah?” Din states. “Yeah.” you nod sadly. With that Din collects the soup, which arrived shortly after your outrage. Before he walks out he shrugs at the still shocked customers and says “She’s - uh…. Just passionate, and with that makes his way out. 

It was nice. Whatever was happening between you and Mando, it was really nice. Ever since that first night he’d shared his cot with you, the Mandalorian had become so much more open and comfortable with you. In those small moments where he teased you more, where you pushed each other’s buttons with smiles on your faces, where he came closer to you… it felt like he was your Mandalorian. Each night after that you had found each other in the darkness until you knew to just climb into his cot with him, your spare having been forgotten night after night. 

You felt warm and safe cuddled into his chest, his large hands holding you close to him. He’d gotten more comfortable reaching for you in the dark and pressing you into him. It was clear that both of you slept so much deeper, waking up feeling more well-rested than either of you had in a long time. 

And to your pleasant surprise, it was your Mandalorian who accompanied you into the small town, indulging both you and the kid in any shop or table that caught your attention. He put his hand on the small of your back as he leaned over your shoulder to see the goods in front of you, the kid happily snacking on a frog Mando got suckered into getting for him. 

“You should get one,” he said softly, tilting his helmet to the delicate rope necklace in your hand. You turned to look at him over your shoulder with your eyebrows raised. 

“No, I don’t need a necklace,” you retorted. 

“It’s nice, get it.” he pressed. You half laughed and half scoffed at him. 

“Mando, I’m not getting it.” 

“How much?” he asked the older, turtle-looking Chelidae behind the table, completely ignoring you. You tried to wrestle the bad of credits from him with your free hand, which was a useless attempt. 

“Three credits,” the old woman answered with a confused smile. 

“Mando, I swear-” you tried, a smile spreading across your face as he dropped the credits on the table and took the necklace from you. “You’re so fucking stubborn,” you laughed, and you could hear the soft chuckle that came through his helmet as his gloved hands fastened it around your neck. You continued to jab back and forth at each other as you walked towards the small inn, smiling and standing impossibly close, the kid gurgling happily. 

“What made you stop for lodging?” you finally asked him, his easy nature and un-Mando-like behavior being a pleasant though confusing change. His helmet continued to look ahead of him as he thought of an answer. One that wouldn’t flat-out betray him. 

“The cot is in such a small space, I thought it’d be nice to sleep in something bigger,” he reasoned, and it was an answer that you accepted. He was tall, the space was a little cramped, he deserved a night where he could stretch out. And it was really only half an answer, but it’d be too hard to ask why he was being so… him. It would open up the whole discussion of what the two of you were, and you weren’t in any hurry to put so much pressure on the emotions behind all your little moments together. 

Once you were inside the inn, things turned sour pretty quickly. You wondered if maybe seeing a Mandalorian fully clad in beskar armor made the innkeeper greedy to get the rest of Mandos credits, but you were having none of it. 

“Seriously?” Mando replied, his irritation clear in his voice after the owner gave him the price. And it was high, especially for a single room in podunk nowhere. 

“Well we do have to charge extra for making sure you’re undisturbed,” the clerk reminded the two of you with a sly smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing, which made you irrationally angry. 

“You’re seriously going to charge us more for you to do less work?” you argued, raising your voice. Mando put a hand in front of you to try and settle you a bit. “You don’t need more money to tell your droids to lay off.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll pay,” Mando sighed. As he went to reach for his credits you shoved his hand away, managing to fight him away from them this time. 

“No, you’re not, because if it wasn’t for the shell on his back I’d have mistaken him for a slimy Hutt.” You were seething. As soon as the insult left your mouth you cursed yourself, knowing there was no chance of bartering a more reasonable deal out of the Chelidae now. “What kind of travelers do you think you’re getting who are going to pay such a ridiculous price?”

“Stop, let’s go,” Mando tried, now stepping between you and the counter. But you were just as stubborn as he was, and determined to teach this guy a lesson. 

“No, I’m not-” With a squeal, your sentence was finished for you as two strong hands found your waist and launched you over his shoulder, Mando marching out the front door. The kid was absolutely delighted, laughing and looking up at you with a wide grin. You were not as pleased. 

“Mando, put me down!” you yelled at him, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

“I’m not dropping you until you calm down,” came his filtered voice, and you could hear the smile on his face. You wanted to smack it off of him. 

“You calm down,” you snipped back. There were people looking at the three of you, more puzzled than usual. Not only were your companions a Mandalorian and a swamp rat, but the sight now included you slung over the former’s shoulder, pissed off and yelling back snappy retorts. It was definitely a sight. 

“Sweet girl, I will carry you all the way home if I have to,” Mando half laughed as you reached the edge of the small town and approaching the forest, never relenting in your stubbornness. You froze at this statement though. Did he say home? He called the Razor Crest home… your home. 

And the nickname was new. You two had never done those before, and you liked it. Almost too much. 

Mando took your silence to cut in. “What got you so worked up?” You took a moment to think about your actions, and how angry you had gotten. You two had dealt with slimy shopkeeps plenty of times before, and all you usually would do was roll your eyes and walk away to let Mando decide if he was going to deal with it. 

“You just, you’re so selfless,” you started hesitantly. “You do so little for yourself, and you give everything you have to everyone else. So the one time you wanted something for your own benefit . . . I don’t know, it’s just not fair that you got scammed out of it.” 

“I would have paid for it.” 

“I know, but you deserve better,” you admitted, and it struck a chord with Mando, his heart fluttering stupidly. To hear you talk about him so highly was making his body do funny things, his mind running faster than he could keep up with. Eventually, he opened his mouth and some of it poured out. 

“I wasn’t doing it for me.” He felt you turn your head as if you were trying to look at him, prompting him to continue. “I was doing it for you.” Your body shook with silent amusement. 

“Mando, you know I don’t need any of that.” 

“But what if I wanted to give it to you? After cramming you in that tiny compartment every night, I wanted to give you a real bed for once.” This was a new level of stubbornness. And it was possibly even more infuriating, arguing with his sweet confessions. 

“I like sleeping crammed up next to you, that’s why I do it every night, dumbass.” There was a long silent pause this time. No snappy retort, no laughter, no sigh of resignation. Just the sound of Mando’s boots crunching against the ground. You wanted desperately to know what was going on inside that helmet, what he was thinking. After a few moments you heard the ramp of the Crest lowering, and Mando finally spoke up. 

“What’s the kid doing?” he asked quietly. 

“He fell asleep a while ago,” you responded hesitantly. Mando adjusted you in his grip to push a button on his armband, the kid’s pod closing him in, isolating him in his peaceful slumber. The sound of Mando’s boots changed, instead hitting the metal of the ship. The second the ramp was closed in front of you, Mando dropped you back to your feet, but he moved fast. His figure towered over you, pushing you back until you hit the wall of the ship. 

“Why are you so fucking stubborn?” Mando’s voice was lower in register, his voice rough but dripping with unspoken emotion. There was a knot tying itself in the pit of your stomach as you looked up at him, a new feeling for your Mandalorian forming deep inside of you. You watched as his visor ever so subtle dropped to your heaving chest, sliding a hand up your side to mess with the necklace he bought you. 

“I like pushing your buttons… seeing what makes you go crazy...” you admitted, testing the waters. You couldn’t keep your head on straight, and his visor came back up to watch as you licked your lips, holding the bottom one in your teeth. He stepped impossibly closer to you, one hand still playing with your necklace while the other found your body, caressing your side like he did in his sleep. 

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until you’re woken up by something tugging at the fabric of your sleeves. Your eyes lazily slide open and look to the side of you to see the child, awake and bright-eyed, tugging on you for your attention.

“Hey buddy,” you yawn, leaning over to scoop him up. He must’ve crawled into the pram after you dozed off. You bounce him on your lap as you rub the sleep from your eyes. He hums happily as he grabs onto your robes, cuddling into you. His love is something you find extraordinarily rare. The child feels so deeply, and you’re truly honored that those passionate feelings have, somehow, been aimed toward you. And you do your best every day to make sure he knows he’s loved, too.

“You’ve always been so good to him.” You hear Mando say. His voice is low, but soft. It makes your chest squeeze as you smile over at him, his back still turned.

“Well, he’s your foundling, right?”

“That’s right.”

“How could I ever not love your son?” you say it in an attempt to be sweet, but somehow feel extremely awkward after the words leave your mouth. He says nothing. You squirm in your seat for what feels like an eternity, uncomfortableness just radiating off of you. Finally, Mando speaks.

Standing up, he announces, “It’ll be a while until we need to refuel. I’m going to head down to get some sleep. The child needs to sleep, too.”

“Okay,” you yawn loudly, “I don’t know why I’m so tired. I slept for so long.” Time seems so meaningless when your feet aren’t on a planet.

He turns to you, stepping forward and kneeling down. Gloved fingers hold your chin gently before saying, “You’re always tired.”

He hasn’t been like this toward you before, so openly affectionate. It reminds you of his actions from earlier when you’d woken up on the cot. You can feel your skin heating up under his touch, and you huff out a shy laugh.

“I know. I guess my body just needs the beauty sleep.”

“You don’t need beauty sleep.” With that he stands, taking the bundle from your arms. “Are you coming down? I can put the Crest on auto pilot.”

You’re still surprised by his remark, it takes you a second to respond. Did he just call you… beautiful? In a way? After yawing once more, you make the decision to come down the two of them. Even though you’ve flown the Crest dozens of times before, you figure you’ll get some rest while you can. These missions are often hectic with new twists every few days, and there isn’t usually time for dozing off, so you’ll take the opportunity while you can.

You’re not sure if he got much sleep last night, or during the day while he was piloting the ship. His cot is also super uncomfortable, you could feel that even through your drunken state the other night. Maybe he’d like to be comfortable for once. 

“Hey, do you want to sleep on my cot?”

“Why?” He turns towards you and away from the child, safely tucked into his pram near his dad’s bunk.

“I don’t think you’ve gotten much sleep lately, and your cot isn’t the coziest.” You chuckle, “You should get some rest.” Mando’s silent for a long time, longer than normal when you’re holding a conversation.

“Where would you sleep?”

Oh, you hadn’t really thought of that. Since you’d already gotten a few hours in, you offer to pilot the Crest while he naps.

“I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.” He replies flatly.

The words make you smile, happiness growing from inside you. Your bed. You’d always known it was your spot, the Crest really was a second home to you, but hearing him declare a space for you inside his ship makes you feel important.

“I could lay with you?” you shrug.

Honestly, you’ve shared closer quarters. There have been times in the past when you’d go hunting on a mission together and find yourselves trapped in a cave during a storm or forced to stay in the closest inn which happened to only have one-bed rooms available. It really wasn’t that strange of an offer.

“I don’t know… I usually take my armor off when I sleep in the Crest.” He says quietly before turning his helmet to his right, eyeing his cot while he finally admits, “I do need a knew bed, though.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you do. Why can’t you take your armor off if you sleep out here?”

“I mean my helmet.”

Oh… oh. You knew he removed some pieces before he crawled into his bunk, but you hadn’t thought at all about his helmet. His stance stiffens as he hesitates to speak and explain himself further.

“There’s… more privacy in my bunk. It’s darker.”

“Oh, yeah of course. I hadn’t even thought about that, I’m so sorry.”

The words fumble out of your mouth as you toy with your hands nervously. He never took off his helmet when you’d slept in those nasty caves or cramped hotel rooms, obviously due to the lack of privacy.

“We could swap them.”

“What?”

“Swap them. Put your cot in here, then toss mine.” He suggests. After he mentioned his helmet, you were sure he’d just scrap the idea of sleeping next to you altogether.

“Oh… sure. I didn’t even know we could do that.”

“I’ll just rip it out.” He grunts, turning to grab at the cot. You turn on your heels to find the toolkit, knowing he’ll need it for the new adjustments.

“Not bad.”

“And in record time.” He nods, tossing the pillows and blankets inside his bunk. “I’ll put the tools away, can you make the bed?”

“Sure. You didn’t have any sheets in here before?”

“I did, but I gave them all to you.”

He walks off to put the tools away, and good thing, too. It was hard for you to hide your emotions at his kind gesture. He usually only gave you one blanket… maybe you were shivering last night? He really slept without blankets so you could have more?

You reach inside and set up the bed, making sure to add all the pillows. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him stride over to his armory, opening its doors. You’re trying your best to act like everything is normal, but you’re bursting inside. After so many years of friendship, have you really earned you this level of trust with the Mandalorian? Was he really going to take his helmet off in front of you? It’ll be dark, but even so, you feel like your heart is going to explode.

The Mandalorian begins dismantling the Beskar adorning his body, and you can’t help but turn to stare. You’d always wondered how he takes his armor off, but obviously you’d never asked. He’s meticulous, treating every piece with great care and respect. There’s an area set aside for each of the beautiful metal parts, a rare resting place for them to go to during occasions as exceptional as the one you find yourself in. He strips himself until he’s standing in his underclothes, which consist of a long sleeve shirt and slightly baggy black pants, almost resembling sweatpants. The only piece of Beskar left on his body covers his head.

“It’s so weird seeing you like this.” You blurt out with a giggle when he turns around.

He freezes… oh shit. Did you just embarrass him? It has likely been many years since he’s removed this much armor in front of another living being and this is how you react? You quickly try to find the words to fix the situation. You don’t want him to feel like he can’t do this with you again, you want him to be this comfortable around you. This is a completely new level to your friendship… it’s hard for you to figure out how to react to it.

“I mean, it’s nice… seeing this side of you.” you murmur out, hoping it helps.

It’s true, though. Somehow, he seems more… human. You never knew how thick the wall of Beskar was until he took it off. You can’t see an inch of his skin, and yet, you already feel closer to him. He’s never been this exposed to you before, and it makes you shiver with nerves. But your words do seem to help because he resumes his stride over to you.

“Well… I’m glad.” He says as he slows to a halt in front of you.

You stare up at him, breathless at his figure. You ponder what the man underneath the helmet above you looks like. After so many years, you’ve tried desperately to put a face to his beautiful voice, but it’s never helped. You’ve never completed a full sketch, and you never would. You’re not supposed to know what he looks like, and that’s okay.

“When’s the last time you took off your armor in front of another person?” you wonder, curiosity getting the better of you as your eyes scan his body.

You can’t help but reach up to feel his chest, hesitantly placing a hand on it. Your breath catches for a moment… you can practically feel his skin. The muscles in his chest feel strong, sturdy, and you curl your fingertips into hem of the fabric ever so slightly. You’ve never been this close to seeing the real him. Not that you ever needed to, you always accepted him as he was. Your relationship had grown significantly over the past few months, sending each other messages through the holopad every so often. You’d even video chatted a few times between his visits. Not to mention his affectionate gestures and gifts back on Nevarro. It’s obvious he favors your company far more than anyone else’s, and it’s something you take great pride in.

“Not since we last traveled to Coruscant.” He replies, his voice low as his hands find your outer arms. His thumbs stroke your forearms softly as you continue to stare at his chest.

The last time you’d traveled to Coruscant was months ago. A mission that had gone terribly wrong, as you were both ambushed by some rogue Stormtroopers working for some local warlord. He’d been injured and had to take off most of his armor for you to help tend to his wounds. But he’d never taken all of it off.

“I’ve never taken off any piece in front of another living thing… until I met you.”

This confession causes you to inhale deeply, letting out a slow breath. Your head is spinning, filled with various thoughts of the relationship you share with the man before you. Before finding Mando, you never had friends. You traveled too much, killed too often. There wasn’t anyone you could trust for too long, not in your past profession. When you joined the crew Mando had already been a part of, you were drawn to each other. You were so young, a teenager lost on her own and trying to prove herself. He was no different, just older and quite a bit more experienced. The two of you decided to leave the crew at different points in time, Mando being the first to go. When you decided you couldn’t trust the people around you anymore, you fled too. The first person to offer you solace was Mando.

“Why do you do it for me?” your voice was barely above a whisper, you were scared to even ask.

Mando has shown quite a bit of interest in you these past few months. Over the years, he’d always cared for you, the two of you were loyal to each other through everything you encountered. When one of you needed help, the other was the first to arrive. It’s an honor and an absolute privilege that he’s chosen to be this open with you, though you can’t help but wonder what fueled this decision. Surely, he’s been close with others before in his life. You’d even known him while he’d been in a relationship during your time with your group. Had he never opened up to her like this?

He stays silent for a long time. Maybe your question bothered him, or maybe he’s just not ready to give you that answer. If he wants to tell you about himself and his creed, then he will.

“Never mind,” you say with a kind smile, reassuring him that he doesn’t need to give you an answer. You turn to move toward the bunk, but the grip he has on your forearms tightens.

“Wait.”

Your eyes finally flicker up to his visor at his tone. It’s eager, almost desperate.

“I want you to know that… I trust you.”

Your heart flutters at his sincerity, and you can’t help but embrace him in a hug. A small grunt comes out of his mouth at your movements, as if he’s not expecting the sudden act of physical affection. After taking a few seconds to register the moment, he gently wraps his arms around you, sliding them down to your waist. Your head rests on his shoulder, snuggling ever so slightly into his neck, causing him to tighten his hold on you.

“I trust you, too.”

Okay, look, you need to understand that the Mandalorian is just that, a Mandalorian. They’re battle-hardened warriors, the best warriors in the galaxy, who protect their creed until death. They don’t have time for relationships, they barely have time for friendships. No matter how much his actions may fuel your feelings, you need to accept this before you get carried away. He’s a good friend, one of your closest friends, and that’s all you’ll ever be.

You know you’re younger than him, you’ve always assumed so. Because of this, you’ve always tried your hardest to be the best version of yourself around him. To be as professional and mature and as strong as you can. You never want him to view you as childish or immature due to your age difference. Would he think of you that way if you assumed he was interested in you?

Your thoughts continue to swirl in your head as Mando busies himself in the ‘fresher. The cot is much cozier than before, and you’re thankful he decided to make the switch. But what it makes up for in coziness, it lacks in space, and you’re interested to see how that will play out. As you scan the inside of the metal bunk, you see a place off to the side that seems like a small shelf, maybe a place for him to put his helmet. Your heart lurches into your throat. His helmet. He said he’s going to take off his helmet tonight with the lights off. Will you get to hear his voice without the cover of his modulator? Or will he stay quiet without his Beskar helmet on? Will you get to feel his hair, maybe even his face? No, there’s no way he’d let that happen.

“I can climb in beside you if you lay on your side.” His low voice pulls you out of your silent reflections and you quickly move to slide over. The hull is still lit up behind him with the soft glow of the keypads and their buttons scattered along the walls.

He slides in behind you as your pulse picks up its pace, thumping rapidly along your neck and through your chest. Once inside, he leans up to press a button to close the door, encasing the two of you in total darkness. With your sense of sight gone, the others seem to sharpen. You immediately notice a smell, fresh as it wafts through the air. It smells like pine, earthy and sweet. It’s his smell. So much easier to notice with his armor off while you’re encased in the private room. You wonder if he applied a cologne while in the refresher or if he always does it, even when he’s covered in his Beskar.

He shuffles behind you as he gets comfortable on his side. You’re facing the wall as he adjusts into a position to face your back. He leaves some space between the two of you, and for a few minutes, all you can hear is the other’s breaths. The steady hum of the engines vibrate off the walls, encouraging you to relax as your nerves settle down.

But now there’s a strange noise. It almost sounds like… hissing? Even though you can’t see anything in the darkness, you jerk your head back slightly, as it seems to be coming from behind you. You feel the Mandalorian’s strong arms reach over you as he moves. There’s a soft metal clink, and you realize he’s taken off his helmet and put it on the small shelf further up in the bunk. Oh Maker… He’s taken off his helmet. Your heart rate climbs immediately, even higher than before as your limbs are flooded with the rush of adrenaline.

Sure, he’s been extra warm towards you lately, but never to this extent. You thought you’d be naïve to think anything more of his actions, though it was hard at times to keep your thoughts at bay. Cara’s words begin bouncing around in your head, only entertaining and fueling your growing feelings for the man behind you. If he was interested in you, wouldn’t he just say it? He’s always been known as a quiet man; showing his intentions with his actions rather than words. He proved his loyalty and friendship with others by following through on deals and being there for them when needed. You’d never seen him act in a romantic or affectionate way toward someone else before… not even toward his past partner. Maybe this is his way of showing how he feels about you. Maybe this is how he wants to show you his feelings without having to outwardly say them. Removing his armor, let alone his helmet, in front of you is huge; it proves to you that he trusts you more than anyone else in his life. You don’t want him to think you aren’t interested, but you don’t want to act on these thoughts and feelings and unintentionally come off too forward.

He grunts and sighs, repositioning himself back down, and he feels closer this time. The space he left before is no longer there as you feel his body press lightly against yours. It’s a soft touch, he isn’t crowding you into the wall or anything. It feels gentle, intimate even… much different from your previous times sharing close sleeping quarters. It’s probably due to the fact that he’s more exposed to you now than he ever has been.

In the past, the two of you often squirmed and kicked at each other when sleeping in the same bed, fighting like children for more space and use of the blanket. You frequently shared one-bed rooms when you visited Tatooine, flipping coins and sparring with each other to see who’d get to sleep in the bed and who got stuck on the ground, until you both gave in and decided to share. A trait you surely share is stubbornness. He’d always toss a pillow at your face when you wouldn’t stop giggling in your drunken states, or when you persistently poked at him to try and make him laugh, or when you’d throw some smartass remark his way. His armor often jabbed at your sides until he decided to take the smaller pieces off as he began to trust you more and more, which made you feel that much more physically and emotionally comfortable with him.

You move to adjust yourself but stop once you realize you’re wiggling back against him. Seconds afterwards, you feel his hand raise and move slowly toward you. You hold your breath as his naked hand hovers inches from your exposed hip, your shirt having slid slightly at your readjustments. He hesitates, though you’re not sure why this is any different from him resting his hand on you when you’re in public. You’re alone, shouldn’t it be easier for him to do it now? Maybe it’s because he recognizes the space’s intimacy just as much as you do. As you lay on your left side, you reach back with your right arm to grab his wrist, guiding it down onto the bare skin of your hip.

His skin is warm, and you hum at the feeling. Mando curls his fingers slightly as he grabs onto your hip instead of letting his hand simply rest there. He moves his head forward, resting his forehead against the curve of the back of your head. Oh Maker… the moment is more personal than you can bare. He feels so vulnerable right now, so open, so sweet, so trusting. You let gentle breaths slip out as you attempt to steady your breathing, feeling so utterly excited at being this physically close to him. He lets out a long sigh, sounding relaxed. Well, as relaxed as he can be. Maker, you can’t believe how forward he’s becoming. He lifts his head, leaning over just a bit until you can feel his breath against the side of your neck.

“Are you comfortable, cyar’ika?” he whispers to you.

Your stomach tightens as his breath hits your skin, your heart squeezing in your chest at his words. You’ve heard him speak Mando’a before, but you’ve never heard him use that word. Regardless, you can guess that the meaning behind it is kind. The sound of his unmodulated voice whispering to you in the darkness, the feeling of his skin on yours, his body pressed against you, and all for the first time… this is a moment you’ll never forget.

“Yes,” you finally manage to breathe out.

“You were right, your cot is nicer than mine.”

“Yeah,” you giggle, your cheeks burning as his thumb caresses the skin along your lower waist.

“Wait, where am I going to sleep from now on?” The thought hadn’t even entered your mind as the two of you replaced his cot so quickly.

“I can buy you a new one. But it’ll be a few weeks.” He mumbles, his nose nudging closer to your neck. His nose… you can feel part of his face. You instantly begin to piece together the mental portraits you ditched so long ago, now having something real to go off of. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind having to sleep next to him for a while longer.

“Okay, I don’t mind waiting.” You smile to yourself in the darkness, looking forward to the next few nights. Even if you didn’t sleep much during hunts, maybe you could make some time for it now.

He rests his cheek against yours, and you feel the stubble of his facial hair, the curve of his jaw. More than that, though, you feel him smile.

“You know, I asked you to come on the Crest for more than just the mission.”

You honestly don’t recognize this man. With the darkness surrounding you, with his loving touches in places so new, with his voice speaking to you in a slightly different tone now that it’s no longer laced with metallic traces, he feels so different. You’d been able to see Mando’s soft side as you grew closer, but what you’ve seen before is nothing compared to him now.

“I like your company. I… missed it.” He continues.

“You missed me?” you reply instantly.

You aren’t shocked that he missed you, it’s almost a given. Of course, he missed you, you had so many fun memories of past adventures together, and his letters to you more than displayed his emotions. But for him to say it to you aloud means more to you than he may know. Mando lets out another sigh, shorter this time and seemingly more rushed.

“I did.” He admits again.

“I missed you too, Mando. You and the kid.” You sigh out happily.

“Yeah, he definitely likes having you around.” Mando huffs, “Probably prefers you to me.”

“That’s only because I sneak him treats.”

“Well, don’t ask me for new robes when he gets chubby and can’t fit into them.”

“Pfft, I would never!” you say, pretending to be shocked. “I’d have him ask.”

You feel him retract the hand on your hip and reach above you. You begin to question his actions as you look behind in the darkness, but don’t have long to processes what he’s doing as a pillow flops down over your face. For the first time ever, you hear him laugh without the filter of his helmet. Your hand flies up to grab the cushion and toss it back behind you in the metal space.

“Fucker.” You smirk as your giggles fill the small space. I guess some things never change.

Maker, you missed this. Mando was as quiet as a ghost around most people, but with you, playful banter like this was common when you spent time together in private, especially inside the Crest. It was like he could be himself with you, like he didn’t have to constantly wear the fierce warrior persona with you around. After spending so much time together, he didn’t need to pretend to be tough in front of you, you knew he was tough. What he needed to show you was his gentle side, and he’s doing a fantastic job at it right now. He’s making your heart absolutely melt. It also doesn’t hurt to see your friendship still shining through.

He breathes out a short chuckle behind you, and you feel his chest move as he does it, settling back down to hold you again. This night is filled with so many firsts between the two of you, so you make sure to soak in as much of this moment as possible. You can’t remember the last time where you were this happy.

He nestles himself against the back of your head once more, shifting his hands again, this time with a little more confidence. It glides up your stomach and curls underneath the left side of your waist, holding you tighter against him. Letting out a comforted sigh, you let your body relax into his, curling your legs around the strong ones behind you. And he lets you.

“What does cyar’ika mean?” you inquire, doing your best to pronounce it correctly.

“Sweetheart.” His response comes without hesitation.

He’s never called you anything like that before, he’s never had a nickname for you at all, and it makes you relax against him even more. You reach your hand down to lovingly squeeze his forearm before resting your hand next to it on the thin mattress. You take in the feeling of him, wishing you had more of his skin against yours, but you’ll take what you can get. Hell, this is more than you ever thought you’d get. You feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he takes, slowly situating himself into a calming slumber. With careful consideration of his actions and now his words, you decide to let your feelings for the man behind you flourish.

Man, Cara is definitely going to have some choice words if she ever finds out about what happened tonight.

Thank you for reading <3

Chapter Three: Ethereal

Mando'a Translations

“Hey, she might be old, but the Crest isn’t a hunk of junk,” he chides you playfully. “But yeah, I think I’ve got a radio somewhere in here.” He straightens up and starts to look for the radio. Music wasn’t something he enjoyed regularly, so keeping a radio out at all times seemed useless, but he had one for those rare moments when sitting in silence got to be just too unbearable. It happened a lot when he was first on his own.

Once he finds the radio, he brings it over to where you are, setting it on one of the boxes. You smile softly at him and turn to the old radio. Hopefully it still works, it looks like it’s from the days pre-Empire (which isn’t surprising, given the ship you’re standing in). After touching a few knobs and buttons, the radio crackles to life, playing a song you were unfamiliar with as it picks up the station it was last tuned to. You fiddle with the knobs again, finding a station you recognize. It was a station you liked to listen to on Tatooine, playing older songs that made you long for the days of your childhood, when your mother would sing Republic-era songs around the house as she cleaned, picking you up and dancing together.

Missing those days, you look down at the small green child, who peers up at you with his big black eyes. As if he knows what you’re planning, he reaches his arms up and you bend down to pick him up out of his pram. He lets you caress him and stroke his wrinkly forehead as you start to sway to the music. You hum along to the tune, slowly spinning around the hull. The child giggles and coos as you dance with him. You can’t notice the way Mando looks at you through his visor, but you feel his eyes on your back as you take his child on a journey through the ship, speeding up your movements with the music as the first song ends and leads into a new one.

“Come join us,” you call to him, a grin on your face. “I’m sure the kid would love to dance with his dad.”

He shakes his head, not moving from his seat on the box next to the radio. “I don’t dance.”

You make your way back to him, setting the child in his pram before you reach for his wrists. “C’mon, Mando. I won’t tell anyone that you’ve got a soft side.”

“Gar atin dala,” he huffs, “I don’t dance.”

You almost make a comment about the name he’s calling you, but his reluctance throws you off guard. Your hands are resting just above his wrists, anxiety bubbling inside you. “Is this another creed thing? No dancing allowed for Mandalorians? Because that’s kind of a bummer.”

He sighs. “No, I just… I don’t like to dance.”

“You don’t have to dance then. Just… sway with us.” You place your hands on his wrists, giving him a warm smile, and tilt your head towards the pram. “It’ll be fun.” Curling your fingers around his armor-covered wrists, you give him a little tug, trying to get him to stand up.

It takes him a moment, but when he realizes you aren’t going to let go, he stands, rolling his eyes underneath his helmet. The music’s changed again, something a little slower now, and you’ve released the hold on his wrists as you scoop the child up, holding him against your hip. The curve of your hips creates a nice resting spot for the child, and Mando lets his eyes wander over your figure for a moment; the sweater hides your waist, the curve of your hips, and your cleavage, but you still look beautiful. You’re swaying gently with the child, and when you turn to smile back at Mando, he forgets that he is supposed to be dancing with you.

“Mando, come on!” You laugh, stepping closer to the metal-clad man, and the child burbles beside you. “See, even the kid wants you to dance.” There are only a few mere inches between you, and your heart is fluttering as you imagine being pressed up against him.

He shakes his head at you, and you raise a brow before grabbing his hand. “Just… feel the music, and sway.” You close your eyes and move slowly, starting with your head, until your whole body is swaying in time with the music. It feels like home.

You take Mando’s hand and lift it above you, giving yourself a little spin like your father used to do when you and your mother danced in the kitchen. His movements are a little jerky, which you anticipated since he hadn’t really wanted to dance. The child giggles as you spin around, which brings a smile to your face.

“See, Mando, this isn’t so bad, right?”

“You are something else, atin dala.” That name again. You wish you knew what language he was speaking – it was unlike anything you’d ever heard before.

“What…what does that mean? You keep calling me that.” You both stop swaying, and your eyebrows furrow together as you look up at his covered face.

“It means stubborn girl,” he chuckles as your jaw drops open. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

He’s not. You’ve always been stubborn, although your mother called you headstrong to make you feel better about it. But for Mando to know and understand how stubborn you are, despite only knowing each other for maybe 2 weeks, means he picks up on your mannerisms and behaviors in ways you didn’t realize.

The child fusses in your arms, and you assume he’s done dancing, so you place him on the ground, letting him explore the ship on his own. “I’ll keep an eye on this little guy. How much longer until we get to Nevarro?”

“Probably less than a day. You can get some rest; I’ll watch the kid.”

You begin to protest but a yawn interrupts you. “Well, I guess I could use a little rest.”

Your quarters were officially set up – and like his own, you doubted the word “quarters” could accurately describe your sleeping spot. It was, like Mando’s room, a small storage space off the main hallway near the ‘fresher, with a cot and some blankets set out for you. Being that it was storage, there were boxes in this room too, and you set your bags down on the ground, wondering which boxes would work well for you as clothing storage. Eventually, you’d figure out where to put everything, but for now, you wanted to get some rest.

~~

“Hey, we’re here.” His voice is quiet, as if he was afraid to disturb you from your sleep. You had been dreaming about him again, but this time, it was sweet; the two of you waltzing across the hull, laughing as he spun you around with confidence. The thought made you blush, as you look up at the Mandalorian’s covered head. “Hope you got some good sleep, because you’ll need to be wide awake here.”

You sit up and stretch, the bottom of your sweater lifting and exposing your stomach; you feel a slight breeze and remember that you had taken off your pants when you went to nap. Eyes widening, you bite your lip as he turns his helmet away from you. “S-shit, Mando I’m so sorry, this is the second time today you’ve – well, caught me indecent.” You’re stammering, the embarrassment rising to your cheeks. He just grunts in response, but he hasn’t left the room. A small wave of confidence overcomes you and you stand, a bit more than a head shorter than him. “Unless… you like this?”

When he doesn’t turn to look back at you, you realize you may have made a mistake. But yet, earlier he said his cape looked better on you; was that not meant to be flirty banter? The metal man was certainly confusing, that much was evident.

“You won’t need the sweater on Nevarro. It’s warmer here.” He finally responds, looking down at the thick top you’d left on. You can almost hear the smirk in his tone when he continues: “Although, pants would be wise.” (So, the banter was back?) “Get dressed, I’ll be outside.”

And then, you’re alone again, the door sliding closed behind him. You aren’t sure what clothing would be best on Nevarro, but considering you didn’t have much, you don’t have a tough time putting together an outfit. You end up going with a simple pair of dark brown cotton pants, that hugged your hips and flared slightly toward the ankles, a cream colored tunic with 3/4 length sleeves and a scooped neck (showing off just a little bit of cleavage), a slightly darker cream cotton gauze that you drape over your chest in a criss-cross, and a dark brown leather belt that puts it all together. You only have two pairs of shoes with you, and you choose to wear the dark brown leather boots that hit mid-calf. The only thing you hope for is that Nevarro has a more colorful palette for clothing, as nearly 3 decades of nothing but shades of brown had been simply tiring.

Making your way down the short hallway and into the main room, you hear voices coming from outside. You realize that maybe you should have brought your blaster with you, because these voices are unfamiliar, and you can only hope that –

“There she is, Mando’s new partner!” You hear a deep voice bellow out as you exit the ship, stepping foot onto the beige toned planet. Great, more beige. The man, dressed mostly in neutral tones aside from the bright red undershirt, came striding up to you, extending a gloved hand and bearing a kind smile. “Greef Karga, pleasure to meet you.”

You’re taken aback by his straight-forward yet charming personality, surprised that this was the kind of person Mando allied himself with. Nonetheless, you reach out and shake his hand, introducing yourself with a smile of your own. “Although, I wouldn’t quite call myself his partner. I mostly watch after the kid.”

Karga breaks the grip on your hand, moving his own to your back with a hearty pat. “I’m just glad to hear Mando’s found someone to keep an eye on this little wamp rat. The kid’s wonderful, truly, but he’s a bit of handful for just Mando if you catch my drift.”

The Mandalorian, who you had not seen at first upon exiting the ship, clears his throat. “Karga.”

The man next to you gives a bashful smile and drops his arm, choosing to move towards the town ahead of you. “Alright, alright. Let’s get this meeting on the road. Besides, I’m sure Cara would be glad to see you two again.”

Mando is carrying his son, and as the ramp begins to close, you hurry to follow the two men as they make their way into town. While at first glance the planet seemed reminiscent of Tatooine – mainly in architecture – what you had initially assumed was sand covering this planet is actually volcanic soil and soot. Your eyes wander, taking note of what places seem to be storefronts that you could visit later, while trying to keep up with Mando and Karga, who seem to be making their way toward a specific building. Greef chats up a storm with Mando, explaining new changes to the city since his last visit, and you overhear him say something about a nice restaurant to go on dinner dates at.

When you finally arrive, Mando turns and looks down at you. “I’m mostly going to be talking business. You don’t have to stick around for this part. Take the kid and go explore. I’ll find you later. Stay –”

“Out of trouble?” You finish, a small smile on your face. “Funny thing about that…I only ever seem to get into trouble around you.” Winking at him, you take the small green child and rest him on your hip before waving goodbye to Karga and walking away. “Where to first, kiddo?”

When you’re out of earshot, Karga breaks the silence. “I like her. She seems good for you, Mando.”

He doesn’t answer at first, watching you through his visor as you slowly make your way down the crowded street, pausing at a few small stalls and looking at the items on display; you pick up a one every so often to show the child, who happily takes the item to try and play with. “She is good,” he finally answers. “Not every day I come across a person like her. She’s good with the kid, too.”

There’s a comfortable quiet between the two men, as you fade from his sight, before Mando turns to face the older man. “Now, let’s talk business.”

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[next chapter]