Cardiophilia Explorer

Ten hours, you mumble it in your mouth.

It has been ten hours since the contractions started with slight cramps and are now causing you to writhe in pain. With each passing hour, the pains grow, but you know that the more you suffer, the closer you are to your little baby.

“Haalur, ner ka’ra,” Din says as he strokes your aching belly. Your belly is distended, swollen, and full of budding life, and with each new pain comes a sudden and terrible tremble, your soft, supple flesh hardening to stone beneath his hand. And he feels it again, your muscles clenching like a vice against the squirming child within, and with each crescendo of your ragged, tearful voice, he feels a pang deep in the pit of his belly.

Since the day this little light came to life in you, he has always been with you. The sparkle in his eyes when he first heard the news was still in your mind; it was a sparkle that eclipsed the lights of all the stars.

He has taken care of you throughout your pregnancy, supporting and caring for you when you couldn’t even drink water because you were nauseous or craved the strangest fruit in the universe. And he knew that the birth would not be easy, but he could not have imagined it would be so difficult.

You hold on to Din’s broad shoulders as another wave of contraction sweeps over your body; the pain is so excruciating that you don’t realize you’re screaming. “Easy, sweetheart,” Din croons, his voice low and soft. “Easy now.” Your tears come faster now, washing over your face, and you chant your pain with almost desperate want, your voice a thin, high wail. Finally, the pain releases you, and your legs go loose; your sore body trembles with strain.

Din rubs your back, whispering, “Just a little longer, mesh’la, and then we’ll be done.” You try to relieve the pain by making circles with your hips; your fingers are buried in Din’s shoulders, almost trying to tear the fabric of the flight suit he is wearing.

When the contraction fades away, you let go of your grip on your husband and begin walking and squatting around the bedroom, remembering the doctor’s words: the more active you are during labor, the better.

The next contraction burns you in such a way that you lose your breath and feel your knees weaken. When you realize your knees fail to carry you, Din rushes, grabs your arms, and holds you tight even before you say his name. “Got you, cyare.” He waits for the contraction to end before he lifts your face into his hands so that you are looking at him, your eyes puffy and red from tears.

“My love,” he says, kissing you on the damp forehead. “I know you’re tired, but you’re so close now.” You try to smile, looking at him and running your shaky hands through his soft curls. Every word he says and every look he gives you fills your heart with warm love. You smile in pain and say, “I can’t wait to meet her.” Din takes your face in his hands and looks at you like he’s hinting at something. “Her?” he asks, and you answer with a giggle, “Yes, my love, mothers always sense.”

When the next contraction wraps your belly and back, you feel an immense urge to push. You writhe and squirm, and your hands hold Din tighter for purchase. As you’re standing, you can’t help pushing little by little with the contraction; you moan into Din’s chest, chanting prayers. You try to catch your breath and talk as soon as the wave of pain is over.

“Din,” you say, almost in a crying tone. His anxious brown eyes find yours, and he holds you tightly, knowing you’re tired of standing up. “I need to push.”

He knows you are at the final stage now; the passages he has read in the datapad help him understand the process you are going through. “Let’s call the midwife, then,” he says softly, and you nod. Before he grabs the comm, he helps you get the bed, laying you down on the pile of plush pillows.

Din quickly grabs the comm and returns to your side; he sits on the bed and rubs your thighs while talking to the med facility on the comm. “The midwife will be here in a few minutes, mesh’la,” he says as he glances at you with both anxious and thrilled eyes. “Are you excited, Mr. Djarin?” you ask him with a smile while trying to distract your mind from the excruciating pain tormenting you. He leans and kisses you while rubbing your baby bump. He coos against your cracked lips, “I can’t tell you how excited I am, my pretty girl.”

Din Djarin has never shown himself before you. You were the one who exposed all of his anxieties, weaknesses, vulnerabilities, and, most importantly, his precious heart. To him, the universe came to a halt when it came to you. You were everything to him, from the very breath he inhaled to the soul he carried. And having a child with you was the most wonderful feeling he could have imagined. He was so desperate to have a child who’d carry a piece from you that you knew he prayed to Maker every day until you told him you were expecting.

You are being ripped apart from this state of mind with a mammoth contraction. This is different from the others; it is as if your bones are splitting apart like you are being divided in two, as you go stiff and rigid. “Oh, please. Oh, please, Maker, not again.” You moan in pain as you hold on to Din’s hand, squeezing him like you are trying to break every bone or tear apart the nerves in his hand. “Take a deep breath, cyare; it’ll be over soon,” he assures you as you spread your legs apart and cry out a little before automatically starting to push. Din rubs your thigh and helps you put your leg back down when it is over. “My lovely doll,” he croons as he leans into you and gives you a kiss on the lips. “You’re doing so well.”

Din leaves your side for a moment to bring the necessary materials to the room before the birth starts: absorbent towels, clothes for the baby, and a med bag, just in case. He left nothing to chance, as he always did. He was also concerned about the birth: you intended to give birth at home, but Din was against it, arguing that a full-fledged health center would be a preferable option. He didn’t stop worrying until you and he discussed it with your doctor and received her assurance and approval.

At the next contraction, Din is right beside you, holding your hand tightly as he tries his best to coach you through it. “That’s it, baby,” he whispers, his other hand slipping down to your belly. He feels how hot your skin is—how rigid and taut. “That’s it. Give it all you’ve got.” He gently caresses your damp cheekbone to encourage you when it is over. “Our baby will be here soon, mesh’la,” he says. “Just a little longer”.

The midwife enters the room into the mid-contraction through the entrance door that Din had left ajar earlier, and she can tell that you are getting close by the way you push through the contraction. When it is over, the midwife gives you a warm smile as she settles her stuff, preparing for delivery.

“Are you feeling the urge to push?” She asks, and you nod, spreading your legs out and rolling onto your back, knowing that she will have an examination. Din rubs your hand delicately as you moan softly, and he encourages you with sweet words as the midwife examines you. You wince and take a sharp breath at the discomfort. When the midwife’s hand is out, she removes the glove and gives you an assuring smile. “You’re nine and a half centimeters. If you feel like pushing, then go for it. Your baby is very low down; it won’t be long.” You breathe a sigh of relief, and Din gives his thanks to the midwife as she prepares you for the delivery.

“No, I don’t want the bed,” you protest. “I want to give birth on the floor,” you say as the midwife is about to lay absorbent towels on the bed. “I’d like to lean on my husband’s chest.” The idea of giving birth in a soft bed scares you; you feel the need to be supported and something to cling to, and you know that in Din’s arms is the greatest place to be.

She nods and lays the towels near the bed, giving you space to lean on. She also puts one of the pillows over the towels to protect your lower body from the stern ground. You know it is time to get up to settle down in your little birthing bed, but you’re too weak and delicate to move. Realizing that Din goes into action helps you get off bed. “Take your time, mesh’la,” he says as he slowly puts you on your feet. He supports your back as you kneel down to your place. “Here we go, my love,” he says, placing a kiss behind your head before scooping up to your behind. He settles behind you by taking you between his legs so you can lean onto him. He puts your hands on your belly and rubs you with the utmost care, like trying to end all of your pain. "Gar bid dral bal kandosii'la, cyar’ika."

You’re overwhelmed with pain and Din’s sweet words; your heart swells with affection and love. Like the deserts that stretch on forever or countless stars, his love for you knows no limits. You can’t help but feel tears fall from your eyes as you breathe shakily. “Never let me go, Din. Never”. You lean onto him and press your head into his chin to show your endless gratitude. And he replies softly, finding your hand and squeezing it gently. “I’ll be on your side forever, my sweet girl.”

The midwife takes her place between your legs and puts her hand on your knee to encourage you. “My beautiful mama,” she says, “your baby will be in your arms very soon; all I want from you is to bear down all your strength when the contraction comes, okay?”

When the next bone-shattering contraction hits, you howl like a wounded animal as the pain moves further down, contracting and squeezing your womb so that the baby can move down. As you start to push, Din holds your leg with one hand and your hand with the other, holding his breath with every push you give. “Just like that, sarad, keep going.” Din praises you and rubs your sore legs softly to ensure you’re doing well. When it is finally over, you pull your gown up and put your hand on your burning belly to feel the baby moving inside you.

You barely have one minute before the next contraction hits, and you push again, holding your breath and bearing down until you have nothing to give. When the pain fades away, you let yourself fall into Din’s body; he immediately embraces you, giving you a soft hug. His hand reaches your forehead and wipes the sweat off. “You’re so beautiful, darling, and so brave,” he murmurs against your cheek.

After almost 2 hours of pushing, you start to feel the baby’s head; you know you have begun to crown. The midwife helps you down there with every push you give, making the process a little easier. Every push you give, the sensation of burning down there tears you in two. “I can’t-” you pant, “I can’t push more; it is burning,” as tears fall from your eyes. Din holds your hand tightly and rubs your back to give you courage. “I know, baby girl, it hurts, and I wish I could do something to put you out of your pain,” he whispers softly, trying his best to coach you. “But you’re so strong, you know that?”.

He continues to praise you as you lean onto him, closing your eyes to rest, even if it’s for a few seconds. “Our adi’ka needs your help, my love,” he whispers in a low tone. You open your eyes as you feel wetness on your cheek, realizing it is a tear. And you see Din crying; oh, he is crying. He can’t bear to watch you writhe in pain.

You hold on to his words and wait for the next contraction to give you all you have in you. When it comes, you bear down again with your might, and the baby’s head slips out of you. “She’s almost here,” the midwife coos, supporting the baby’s slippy head with her hand. “She’s almost here, baby girl,” Din praises, pressing his face against your cheek. His heart rumbles with excitement and fear in his ribcage. “Almost, almost here, darling.”

“Do you want to feel the head?” the midwife asks, and you manage to utter a weak yes. The midwife takes your hand guide down there, and your fingers meet with the head of the baby. “Oh Din,” you gasp, “Oh, she’s almost here”. “That’s right, my love,” Din encourages you, “Feel her”.

“That’s her?” You ask in awe, trying to ignore the pain for a second. You feel the baby’s hair on your fingertips, and Din leans forward to kiss you. “That’s our baby.” He clarifies in a shaky whisper as your foreheads meet. “Alright, my sweet girl,” the midwife says as she puts her hand on your swollen belly, gives a smooth touch, and says, “Come on, let’s relieve your pain and have you hold your baby in your arms; I want you to push as hard as you can for the last time.” As the cruel contraction creeps up to your belly, you push with all your might; the midwife frowns and guides the baby out of you. “Here we go, love,” says Din, feeling you go rigid in his arms as soon as it begins. “Here we go, we’re in the final stretch.”

As the pain eases, you whisper in a crying tone, “C’mon, my beautiful girl, don’t tire your mom anymore.” The midwife reassures you, knowing how tired you are. “One more push, and she’ll be here.”

“You’re doing it, my cyar’ika; she’s right there.” Din embraces you tenderly and murmurs. And without a break, one last pain of waves takes control of you; you push push push again, and she comes.

You holler out as the baby is gently pulled by the midwife, and just like that, a brand-new life enters your world. You collapse against Din’s torso and try to get your breathing steady as Din looks at the newborn baby dumbfounded for a second. His emotions boil over, and he can’t help but cry as the midwife places his little girl on the puffy white sheets and pats her back.

The midwife announces you have a baby girl, and you and Din burst into tears. “Is she okay?” he finally manages to choke out, and once the midwife suctions out the gunk from her nose and mouth, the baby’s lungs fill with air, and the midwife doesn’t even have to answer his question. Before placing the newborn in your arms, the midwife hands Din the scissors to cut the umbilical cord. He cuts the cord with shaky hands while gazing at the beauty of the baby.

The midwife puts your little baby on your chest, and she leaves the room for you two to have time together for a while. You sob as you hold your little angel in your arms.

“Welcome, baby girl, my little one. Welcome.”

You’re so overjoyed with the happiness that your throat goes dry and stutter, “We’ve been waiting for you so long.” Reaching out to the baby, Din gently caresses the baby’s tiny head and whispers, almost crying, “Su cuy’gar, ad’ika.”

Din finds your hand, holds you tightly, and whimpers, “I am so proud of you, sweetheart.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “You did so well, my cyare.” You lean into him as an answer, feeling his warmth in your aching back.

“I love you so much, mesh’la,” Din whispers against your cracked lips, and you sob with him, your tears falling together as you manage to croak a reply.

“I love you too, my sweet riduur.”

You pull your head back and reach it down to kiss the top of your little girl’s skull. She is covered in blood and gunk, but that is the last thing you care about. Both you and Din’s hands rub over her brand-new chubby body, and your faces breathe against hers as she calms down and finds a little comfort in the hands of the people who love her unconditionally.

“She’s perfect.” Din breathes as his face rests against your shoulder, and his finger gently strokes the droopy skin of his daughter’s cheek.

You close your eyes and use one hand to hold her brand new baby against her while the other rubs the back of your husband’s head. Your heart is so full that you can barely stand it, and you can’t help the constant sobs escaping from you.

The midwife does not want to ruin this lovely moment, but the birth is not finished; you still need to deliver the afterbirth. Your heart aches as the midwife removes your tiny baby from your arms and places her in her cradle. You don’t like the sense of emptiness in your arms. “It will be a short separation, my beautiful girl,” she promises. “She will come back to you as soon as I clean you up.”

Once more, you rest on Din while the midwife massages your belly with her hands. The midwife hears your sharp gasp as the cramps become painful and rushes to help, saying, “Push with the cramps, my strong mama, just like you gave birth to the baby.”

Wishing it your final push, Din gives your back a gentle massage. He soothes you, saying, “Hang in there, darling, it’s almost over.” And when you release a deep breath, the afterbirth slides out of you. The midwife confirms and congratulates you, and it is now time for you to clean up.

After a long cleaning and examination process, the midwife leaves the house, leaving you two and your newborn alone together. The bed have become your best friend because your body is so tired that you couldn't get up from the floor after birth. Without even saying a word, Din immediately realized and lifted you up, supporting your saggy belly, and then helped you to bed.

And now, Din is lying beside you on the bed, looking at you and the baby sleeping on your bare chest. “She looks just like you.” You breathe as your heart expands when you see the giant brown eyes on your daughter’s face; it is like staring into your riduur’s eyes. Din smiles against her, and he reaches his face up to kiss her head again.

“I’m so proud of you,” Din mumbles against his adi’ka, unable to fully comprehend how she managed to get his tiny little love into the universe, and you just kiss Din’s stubbly face in response before you both go back to admiring your little one, who is squirming against your warm, naked chest.

“I love you, my little ka’ra,” you whisper against your baby’s squished-up face, and Din chokes back more tears, his whole being overflowing with love for his girls.

As he keeps his hands around you, Din’s cheek nestles back into your exposed chest, and he stares at his baby as her hands grasp onto your sweaty skin. He just cannot comprehend that this perfect little girl in front of him is theirs. She is perfect, and she is his. He doesn’t understand what he did right in life to deserve two girls who are so breathtakingly beautiful.

You mumble softly, “I think we are a clan of three now.” Din answers, “Yes, cyare, there are three of us now,” with a great smile on his face.

“Aliit be ehn,” you say, looking at the sleeping babe.

“Aliit be ehn,” Din confirms as he looks at you with love and gratitude.

--

Hi everyone! This is my first work ever and I am so happy to share it. Please bear in mind that I am not a casual fic writer, I am a reader + English isn't my first language. So, please don't hesitate to share your comments and ideas :)

--

Mando'a Translations

Haalur, ner ka'ra: Breathe, my stars

Mesh'la: Beautiful

Cyare: Beloved, loved

Cyar'ika: Darling, sweetheart

Sarad: Flower

Riduur: Partner, Spouse, husband, wife

Adi'ka: Baby, child under 3

Gar bid dral bal kandosii'la, cyar’ika: You’re so strong and amazing, darling.

You chuckled. “It does.” You zipped up Grogu’s lunch bag and bit your lower lip in a nervous excitement before shrugging once. “What happens during a Mandalorian ‘courting session’? An impromptu bounty hunting mission? Live combat?” The words were said with a teasing tone, but Din not reply and your eyes widened. “Din, do Mandalorians hunt quarries for their date nights?”

“No.” He answered quickly. “And I would never take you on a hunt. Maker, I’d be sick with worry.” He mumbled the last bit with a shake of his head. Finally, he shrugged. “The combat part isn’t so far off though.” You raised an eyebrow in question. “My people weren’t able to sit around a table to share food or bond over a meal. We shared stories and time through training so… courting and training tended to go hand in hand.”

It made a weird amount of sense to you. How much of your life was spent sitting at a table with family and friends sharing lives or talking over breakfast, lunch, or dinner? So much of a person’s culture and history was orally passed down through mealtimes and before this moment you never gave it a second thought. It never occurred to you how a family that couldn’t reveal their faces would bond and share their lives with one another. Mandalorians choosing combat as their bonding activity of choice was more than fitting.

“Alright.” You nodded. Din seemed to release a breath of relief and you found it endearing and adorable that he was nervous about asking you this. As if you wouldn’t immediately jump at the chance to spend more time with him. “But, if I go on a Mandalorian date you have to go on a not Mandalorian date.”

“A not Mandalorian date?” Din chuckled. “What happens during one of those?”

“It’s a surprise.” You replied simply. It was a ploy to buy yourself some more time to think of something great. It had been ages since you last went on a date, and you had never been on a date with a Mandalorian let alone a Mandalorian you loved. This needed to be perfect. “What kind of combat should I expect?”

“It’s a surprise.” Din echoed your sentiment. You chuckled and when he reached out to lightly grasp your wrist and pull you around the kitchen island, you let him. His hands settled on your hips as he tugged you into his chest⏤ you let your own hands wrap around the back of his neck in response. The motions were so fluid and natural to you. Second nature. Din lightly tapped his helmet against your forehead. “You gonna close your eyes or not, ner kar’ta?”

“Depends.” You teased.

“Yeah? On what?”

“You gonna fix the bathroom door or not?” You replied. Din chuckled sheepishly. The bathroom's doorway had been covered with a simple sheet since being broken down last week. It was simply a running joke on how long it’d take to get it replaced. You didn’t really care all that much. Especially since you knew Din had been crazy busy with getting the Mandalorians settled in Nevarro⏤ and simply restoring Nevarro as well. 

Din shook his head. “I’m working on it.”

“Don’t worry. I was just gonna have Paz over to fix it for us⏤”

Din turned your back to the island counter and he pushed you so he could pin your hips against the cabinets there. He leaned in, his voice low enough to be a growl, “Close your eyes.” Unable to resist, you let your eyes fall closed while a smirk continued to play on your lips. Only seconds after they had shut did you feel Din move abruptly and suddenly his lips were pressed against yours in a crushing kiss. With one hand cupping the side of your face, Din molded his lips against yours forcing them to part so he could let his tongue explore your mouth. Maker, he was getting too good at this. The frantic and desperate kiss had a possessive edge to it that you found yourself craving. Din nipped at your lower lip suddenly and you sucked in a sharp breath in response. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he let his lips trail along your jaw down to your neck where he began to leave open mouth kisses.

“Din…” You gasped, breathless, as his teeth grazed your skin. The feel of his hot tongue gliding over where his teeth had grazed you made your body tremble. You buried a hand into Din’s soft hair. The only image you had of his pretty, brown hair was that one morning so long ago where you had seen him from behind. Just a flash. A vague memory of slightly curled locks. You raked your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, and Din groaned against your neck. You wanted to see his hair so badly, but for now you’d settle for feeling it between your fingers.

“We… We gotta go to work.” You mumbled.

Din pulled your scrubs collar to the side so he could pepper kisses along your collarbone. “We’ll call in sick.”

“The marshal and doctor of Nevarro?” You chuckled. “Playing hooky?”

“They’ll survive one day without us.” Din replied.

“Grogu is right down the hall. Do you really want him to walk in and see this?”

Din pressed his lips softly to the space right underneath your ear and you let out a shuddered breath, “We’re his parents.” You could feel his breath against your skin. “We’re supposed to scar him for life, I think.”

You tugged on his hair lightly to pull his lips up to yours so you could capture him in a chaste kiss. There was something about the way Din would so casually refer to you as Grogu’s official caretaker that sent chills up your spine. It felt permanent. It gave you a look into a more concrete future. One where Din and Grogu were both yours and yours alone.

Din let out a soft sigh before pulling back. You waited to open your eyes until you felt the cool metal of his helmet pressing against your forehead. You drummed your fingers against the armor covering his chest. “So, when’s this Mandalorian courting session of ours?”

“How about this weekend?” Din asked. “We should both have some time off then.”

“Perfect.” You agreed, and it was. With Din by your side, you felt safe. The world wasn’t perfect, far from it, and scars still littered your soul. However, Din made it bearable. You didn’t have to be scared or worried. Not with him. Never with him. “Lemme go check on Grogu. He’s been a little too quiet for a little too long.”

“True.” Din squeezed your hips once before allowing you to slip away.

You glanced at him over your shoulder with a smile⏤ you’d never get tired of staring at his tall and broad form. Even covered head to toe in layers of clothes and metal, Din was gorgeous. You slipped down the hall and called out for the little boy to hear no reply. 

“Grogu?” You poked your head into Din’s bedroom to see a green ear sticking out from his hammock. You frowned in confusion. Why had he crawled back into bed? “Grogu, baby, you’re gonna be late.”

“No.” He blurted.

Your eyes widened, “Grogu⏤”

“No. Don’t wanna go.” Grogu mumbled.

Worried, you reached into the hammock and pulled Grogu out of his blankets and into your chest. He curled up there without hesitation and with a furrowed brow you rubbed his back. “Baby boy, what’s going on?”

“No.” He just repeated the word. 

School was not back in session. Wynn’s funeral was two days ago and though there were people to rise up and pick up her role in this community they had big shoes to fill and no one was quite ready to attempt that yet. However, one of the Mandalorians offered to host a daycare-esque group in order to watch the children of parents who needed to work. You were fairly certain this babysitting would involve training of sorts. This seemed more likely after hearing Din explain what a courting session was.

“Don’t you wanna go see your friends?” You asked.

“El not there.” Grogu pouted.

“Right.” You nodded. Elodie was still off world with her parents. She was doing very well, but it might be a while longer before they returned. “But Poe will be there, and all your other friends.”

“Miss not there.”

Your heart broke at his quivering words. Grogu had not handled the funeral well at all. You knew he was taking the loss of his teacher hard. You hugged him tighter to your chest and let out a soft sigh. A knock made you glance over your shoulder to see that Din had followed after you since you hadn’t returned with the green boy in tow. 

“Is everything okay?” Din came closer. He reached out and set his hand on top of Grogu’s head. “Ad’ika?”

“No!” Grogu chirped again and kept his face buried against you. 

You felt Din’s gaze lift to yours. He tilted his head and you replied quietly, “He misses Wynn.” Din’s shoulders slumped. Quickly, you squeezed Grogu in your arms. “How about you come to work with me today, baby?”

“Lek!” Grogu’s head shot up. “Lek! Lek, Ma.”

You felt relief flood your heart at seeing Grogu’s mood shift back to his typical eager self. Din’s hand settled on your lower back and he leaned in. “Are you sure that’s okay? I can take him, ner kar’ta.”

“You’re gonna be moving all around the city today.” You shook your head. “It’ll be easier for me to watch him.” You shot him a smile. “Plus, you got to spend weeks with him alone and exploring the universe. It’s my turn to hog his attention.”

Din chuckled. “Alright. That’s fair.”

You tickled Grogu’s side and he laughed at the distraction. Taking the boy into work with you today, though most likely a distraction, would be fun. With the decision settled, the three of you made your way out of the house and into the city’s center. This was always one of your favorite activities. Walking with your boys was the perfect start to your day. 

“Be good for Ma today, ad’ika.” Din bowed his head against Grogu’s as you came to a stop outside the clinic. Grogu gave his father’s helmet a few pats. Din lifted his gaze back to your, and you heard amusement fill his voice as he lifted his hand to caress the side of your neck. “You be good today too, ner kar’ta.”

“Hm.” You replied with a smirk. “No promises.”

Din chuckled with a shake of his head and he lingered in his spot while you and Grogu headed into the clinic. You glanced over your shoulder to give him a small wave before slipping out of his line of sight. You bounced Grogu in your arms, “Alright, baby, let’s find you some stuff to do while Ma works, huh?”

“Lek!”

“You don’t have to plan to go yet. We always have a place for you.” Din said warmly to Vanth who was sitting on his desk. The man had healed up well, but there were still lingering scars and bruises from the fight. Din would always be in this man’s debt for the lengths he went to in order to protect Nevarro while Din was gone.

“Don’t say that.” Mayfeld cried out. “How the hell are we gonna get rid of him if you keep offering a spot??”

Vanth chuckled. “Oh, come on, Miggsy. I thought you liked me as a roommate. Why else did you offer me your spare room?” 

“I didn’t! You invited yourself!”

Din listened to the men argue with a chuckle. The building Vanth had been staying in was one of the housing areas destroyed in the attack. As much as they seemed to be at one another’s neck, Din had a feeling that they’d miss one another deep down. Deep, deep down. Their relationship reminded him of the one he shared with Paz. Din would go to war to protect his brother in arms and support him, but he also wanted to wring the man’s neck most days.

“Djarin!” 

Speak of the devil…

Din glanced over his shoulder to see Paz step into the marshal office and he made the room look so much smaller just from his size and presence. It felt odd to hear his name said in public like that. With the migration of Mandalorians to Nevarro, Din realized he might need to make alterations. Most of the city still called him Marshal because he didn’t offer them his name, but Din did choose to share it with his inner circle. Vanth, Mayfeld, Karga, Peli, Nima. Just the people he trusted without a doubt.

“You needed to speak to me?” Paz spoke up. “Can you make this quick? I wanted to swing by the clinic to greet wero’ika⏤”

“I gave her my token of intention.” Din snapped. “She accepted, we’re courting. Back off.”

Paz let out a full belly laugh and it took a bulk of Din’s self control to not shoot him. Vanth and Mayfeld had put aside their bickering to focus on the conversation at hand. Din grumbled in annoyance. The one thing that got both men to end an argument was always at his sake it seemed.

“Whoa, wait, you’re talking about Soran?” Mayfeld cried out. “I assume that’s the only person in the clinic you’d be courting.”

Vanth chuckled. “Courting. That’s adorable, brother. Is it a Mandalorian thing?”

“Also, why would you even need to court her?” Mayfeld suddenly added. “The two of you are practically married already. You live together and share a son. You got ‘couple celebrating their tenth anniversary’ vibes.”

Din shook his head in exasperation, but he didn’t bother voicing the fact that he quite liked that everyone in the city seemed to forget you had started as his son’s nanny. As far as they were concerned, you were Grogu’s mother and that made Din’s heart ache with pride.

“In order to properly wed someone to Mandalorian customs, courting must come first. It's taken him long enough.” Paz answered. Both men had already been introduced to Din’s brother days ago when rebuilding and clean up of the city had started. “We have a word for him in Mando’a. Utreekov.”

Din rolled his eyes and Mayfeld let out a laugh. Din’s head snapped to the deputy, “Why’re you laughing? You don’t even know the word.”

“No, but I’m decent at context clues and can make a pretty good bet.” Mayfeld snickered.

“When is your first courting session?” Paz demanded.

Mayfeld narrowed his eyes. “Wait, does that mean ‘date’?”

Vanth crossed his arms and shot his friend a wide, mocking grin. “Hot damn, Miggsy! You are good with those context clues, ain’t ya?”

“You’re literally the worst.” Mayfeld grumbled.

Din crossed his arms. “This weekend.”

“And have you chosen your combat activity yet?” 

Vanth and Mayfeld both paused their bickering once more to snap their attention to Paz. Vanth spoke up first. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘combat activity’? Because if so, I have many questions.”

“Not yet.” Din answered Paz’s question, choosing to ignore Vanth’s. “Why?”

“Am I not allowed to ask?”

Din narrowed his eyes at Paz dubiously. He wouldn’t describe his brother as necessarily ‘nosy’, and he didn’t think Paz would deliberately undermine him. However, he remained skeptical nonetheless. Mayfeld cleared his throat and waved his hand once. “Can we circle back around to 'combat on a date'?”

“It’s just a custom we have.” Din replied in an offhand manner.

Vanth shrugged. “Why get a drink together when you can try to stab one another with a knife?”

“Hm,” Din hummed, “Training with her new dagger actually isn’t a terrible idea.”

“We have different definitions of the word ‘terrible’.” Mayfeld snorted.

“Actually,” Vanth countered, “I think you should use context clues to realize that our buddy Din here⏤”

“Maker, can you leave already!?”

Din nodded his head for Paz to follow him and both Mandalorians walked back to Din’s office leaving Mayfeld and Vanth in the main room. In the privacy of his office, Din turned to face Paz who spoke before he could.

“Did you call me here to ask for advice, vod?” Paz chuckled.

“No, I⏤ Wait, advice for what?”

“For courting gar kar’ta?”

Din bristled in annoyance at Paz picking fun at his nickname for you. He crossed his arms, “Why would I need your advice?” He scoffed. “You’ve known her for a little over a week.”

“I know how little experience you have courting at all. Thought I would help as able. You know,” Paz had a tone in his voice that told Din the man was grinning as he slipped into Mando’a, “So you don’t fuck it up, Djarin.”

Din scoffed. Honestly, he knew if he had a question on the topic of courting he could come to Paz for an answer. He would be mocked relentlessly, but after the ribbing Paz would eventually get to the advice. The issue was Din didn’t even know what to ask. Paz was right. Din had very, very little experience in courting. It was never a priority for him until meeting you. His biggest fear regarding the courting was that his lack of experience would somehow mess this up, but Din had to remind himself how easy things were with you. It was natural.

“So?” Paz pressed.

“Well,” Din began, “I was⏤ Wait, no, stop. That’s not what I called you here for.”

“You sure? It seems you need all the help you can get.”

“B'epa slaat bal ramaana.”

Paz’s howling laughter made Din regret calling him into the office in the first place.

“I told you to keep that bandage dry and you didn’t.” You snapped at one of the local construction workers sitting on your cot. Today wasn't too busy which was nice. Grogu was bouncing happily in the sling you wore which tied him to your front. You covered his large ears, making him glance up at you, then spoke. “That’s why the damn thing is infected, you idiot.” 

The worker gave you a sheepish smile. He was a repeat offender which gave him the honor of getting to hear your full thought process rather than the more politically correct version. You uncovered Grogu’s ears and he just laughed at your antics as if it were a game you were playing with him. Aayla drifted over and you gave the woman a broad grin.

“What would you do?” You asked, quizzing her.

Her eyes brightened, excited to be challenged, “Clean the wound today. Replace the bandages. Then start him on an anti-bacterial.”

“Ointment or oral medication?” You pressed.

Aayla paused in thought then sighed, “I… I’m not sure.”

“That’s alright. You’re learning, and you’re doing great.” You reassured her. “We’re gonna start him on an oral medicine to take because he’s an idiot,” Your eyes dragged to his as you emphasized your words, “that needs to keep his wound dry and clean before the infection turns systemic.”

Aayla giggled and the man laughed as well in good nature. You shook your head and began to walk away to leave Aayla to clean up his wound. Grogu bounced in the sling and began to chant, “Idiot, idiot, idiot.”

“No, no, baby.” You looked down and tugged him lightly on the ear. “That’s an adult word, you don’t use that.”

He repeated the word twice more, making you wince, but you supposed it wasn’t the worst thing for the child to repeat. As often as Din barked out the curse ‘dank farrik’ around the house it was a miracle Grogu hadn’t added that phrase to his vocabulary.

“Hey!” You glanced over to see Nima sweep into the room with a wave. She hurried over to greet you and Grogu. “Hey there, you green little bug.”

“Idiot!”

Nima’s eyes widened, “Whoa, hey.”

“Sorry, he’s been blurting it out because I told him not to say it.”

“Oh, okay. I was about to be super sad.” Nima chuckled. She reached out and tickled Grogu who squealed in response. “How come you got the baby with you?” You shook your head to let her know you’d tell her later. Not wanting to bring up the topic of Wynn in front of Grogu again. Nima picked up and moved on. “Busy morning?”

You shook your head. “Not so much. It’s been alright. You?”

“These days we’re so busy with repairs I don’t think I’ve touched an engine block in days.” Nima groaned. “I’m happy to be helpful, but Maker, do I miss tinkering.”

“Well, I might have news that’ll cheer you up.” You grinned. “Din and I are going on our first date this weekend.”

Nima scoffed. “Date? Why don’t you guys just get married already?”

“Nima.”

“Fine.” Her lips turned into a bright smile. “So date, huh? What’s on the agenda?”

“Hand to hand combat. Maybe.” You shrugged and Nima tilted her head in alarm. You explained to her the Mandalorian custom then focused on your half. “I get to plan a regular date though.”

Nima clapped her hands in excitement and Grogu copied her motions while peering up at you. “Do you have an idea yet??”

You nodded and bit your lower lip before voicing your thoughts. “I was thinking of making us a picnic to lay out in our living room. Pin up string lights, make a nice meal with wine and dessert.” Nima blinked at you without a reaction. “What?”

“That’s kind of… boring, isn’t it?” Nima scrunched her nose. “I just mean, I thought you guys would do something exciting! The lava plains does tours that’ll take you right up to the volcano’s edge. There are hot springs at the outside of the city where the two of you could share a bath.” She shimmied her shoulder. “You know, something like that.”

You twisted your lips, “You think he won’t like my idea?”

“You know your husband better than I do.” Nima held her hands out in surrender, Grogu mimicking her once more. You rolled your eyes at the ‘husband’ comment. “I was just offering my two cents.”

You hummed in thought and stood in place as Nima pulled a bag of candy out of her shoulder pack and began to feed them to Grogu who gobbled them up happily. Technically, the date you had in mind really wasn’t the most exciting of things the two of you could do. That being said, it felt right. Going on a lava plains tour, Din would be stressing the entire time about you accidentally falling into the mouth of a volcano to fully relax. Going to the hot springs, Din couldn’t actually enjoy it with you unless he decided to strip out of his armor and you knew he didn’t like being bare out in even a semi-public area. You also couldn’t go out to eat or for drinks in the city since he couldn’t remove his helmet. 

More so, staying at home allowed you the opportunity to get his mouth on you which was always a plus. All those thoughts should put a stone of anxiety in your belly, but instead all you felt was excitement. The comfort and safety Din brought with his presence left no room for doubt or strain. He was home.

"Oh, also, I was gonna ask," Nima pointed at your neck, "What's up with the giant hickey?"

"Huh?" You blurted. Nima rustle through her pack again and pulled out a compact mirror. She held it up to you and your eyes widened at the sight of the two darker patches of skin where Din had left bruises with his kisses this morning. One on your neck and the other by your collarbone. Your face warmed up and an amused smile pulled up the corners of your lips. "That son of a bitch."

Grogu squealed, "Son of a bitch!"

mando'a translations:

ner kar'ta: my heart ad'ika: little one vod: brother utreekov: idiot gar kar'ta: your heart b'epa slaat bal ramaana: eat dirt and die

taglist (closed):