Chapter Text
It was the cold that woke you.
Your eyes fluttered open as an involuntary shiver went through you. It was dark, and for a moment you were too dazed to tell where you were. You sat up a little too quickly; you winced at the bone-deep ache you felt and tried to get your bearings.
“Cyare?”
Din’s voice soothed you as soon as you heard it, and you remembered with a resigned sort of clarity that you’d fallen asleep while he worked on the cockpit.
“Yeah,” you said. You were surprised that your teeth chattered, and drew your cloak together around you. You noticed your son wasn’t sitting on your lap any more, and tried to make him out in the dim light.
“You have the baby?” you asked, your breath turning into vapor in front of you.
Din hummed in agreement. You thought you saw the gleam of beskar, but you couldn’t really tell the dark shapes apart on the cockpit floor.
You nudged your boot at one of the shapes. “Where are you?”
“Under the dash,” he said, his voice slightly muffled.
“I can’t see you,” you said. You heard a soft grunt when your boot met something hard.
“Well, you found my ribcage,” he said. “Don’t step on me if you get up.”
You laughed a little. “Sorry. I’ll try not to.”
You leaned forward in your seat, ducking your head to look under the dash that had been completely covered with a dull layer of frost. Now that you knew where he was, you could make out that he was lying on his back to work on the wiring on the underside of the instrument panel. Only his head and shoulders fit in the space, and the rest of him was laid out on the cockpit floor.
“What about you, ad’ika?” you called to your baby. “Where are you?”
You heard his soft coo from under the dash.
“Din, he’s under there with you?” you asked, a little uneasy at the thought. You heard the spark of frayed wires and didn’t feel any more confident.
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Din assured you. “I’m not letting him get into anything.”
You gave a dubious frown, but realistically you knew Din would never put the baby in any danger. Even if hot-wiring a spaceship wasn’t your idea of a great activity for a toddler, you weren’t concerned enough to argue.
You rolled your shoulders a little, trying to ease the feeling of having slept in a cold, uncomfortable cockpit. “How’s the repair coming?”
You heard your husband sigh. “It’s coming,” he said. “Still have a ways to go. This is the last thing to do inside, but I have some work to do on the outside too.”
You winced at the thought of going out into the cold. While the Crest wasn’t exactly a sauna at the moment, it did protect you from the wind and snowfall, and you wished Din didn’t have to go out in it.
With a soft groan at trying to get your cold muscles moving again, you laid yourself on the floor next to Din and propped yourself up on his chest, one of your legs going between his. Your knee accidentally nudged his codpiece and he gave a slightly disgruntled noise.
“Can’t tell if that was supposed to be nice or not, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer nice.”
You breathed a laugh and patted his torso affectionately. “I know you would, lover. I didn't mean to knee you, sorry.”
“Hm. Why are you down here, anyway?” He didn’t say why are you laying on top of me while I’m trying to work, because he was far too sweet to say something like that, but you got the message anyway.
You rested your head against his chestplate. “Thought I’d keep you company.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, a brief slew of sparks lighting up the space where he was working; you heard the baby give an excited babble at the lights.
“Well, as much as I like laying with you, I’m finished under here,” he said. He made to push himself out from under the dash, but you put a hand on his chest to still him.
“Wait, just one more minute,” you said. It wasn’t comfortable lying all tangled up with him on the cockpit floor by any means, but you sort of liked it.
You felt him relax a little and breathe a laugh. “I’m halfway under the panel, cyare. Not exactly in a good place to romance you that well.”
“Mm, but you’re warm,” you said. Underneath his frosted beskar, you could feel his body heat through his flight suit. “Can we take a vacation after this?”
“Like where?”
You shrugged. “Maybe go back to Naboo. See the lake country.”
He sighed and ran his hand over your back. “Sure, cyar’ika. I’ll take you wherever you want.”
You stayed on top of him for a few more minutes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, hugging him tighter when you felt him shudder with cold. Eventually, you disentangled yourself and offered him a hand once he’d come out from underneath the panel, your little son in tow.
“Go see mama,” Din said, handing him to you. He was still holding his little ball, and the three of you sat on the cockpit floor in companionable silence for a moment.
“How was your nap?” Din asked you. You ran your fingers along the edge of his visor, trying to break up some of the frost.
“Good,” you said. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”
He nodded. “Do you remember what you dreamed about?”
You frowned a little; as attentive as your husband was, that question seemed a little whimsical for his tastes.
“I don’t think I dreamed at all,” you said. “Why?”
He shrugged. “You looked a little like you were having a nightmare, at one point. I thought about waking you, but before I decided, you’d settled back down. I just wondered if you remembered it. I’m glad you don’t.”
You sighed. “Yeah, me too.” You leaned your head forward, and he obliged you with a gentle headbutt.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to sleep,” you said.
He cleared his throat; he sounded congested and tired and very cold.
“I’ll sleep on the way to Trask,” he said. “Don’t worry about me, cyare.”
He touched a gloved hand to your cheek before he stood, offering you a hand to help you up off the floor. He stretched his back, and you heard a familiar crack followed by a small sigh through his vocoder.
“I’m gonna get started on the outside,” he said. “Your son probably needs something to eat.”
You went through your mental catalog of what you had in your pantry that could have survived everything. Not much, but it would have to do.
“Do you want anything?” you asked.
He shook his head. “No, thank you.” He leaned down to pick up his toolbox. “Knock on the glass if you need anything.”
He left to go to the outside of the cockpit, and you heard him speak briefly to the frog lady and give her an update about the repairs as you and the baby ventured towards the storage room. Your hand hovered over the button to open the door, and you couldn’t remember if it had been closed earlier.
You leaned over the ladder and tried to see if your husband was still downstairs. “Din?”
You heard his familiar tread come across the floor; he appeared at the bottom of the ladder and looked up at you.
“What do you need?”
You gave him an apologetic grimace. “Could you do me a huge favor, because you love me?”
He huffed a laugh. “Sure. What is it?”
You looked back at the storage room door. “I need you to make sure there’s no spiders in the storage room.”
He set his toolbox on the ground and came back up the ladder. “Stay here.”
You and the baby watched as Din pushed the button to open the door, hand resting on his blaster; he tapped the side of his helmet to activate the HUD and looked around.
“I think it’s ok,” he said, turning back to you. “I don’t see any - ah, kriff, hang on.”
He drew his blaster and fired up above the door; the lifeless body of the spider about the size of a dinner plate fell with a thunk on the floor. You winced and the baby cooed with interest.
Din kept his blaster up as he scanned the room again, and after a few moments, he seemed satisfied that it was just the one. He holstered his blaster and tapped the HUD off as he came back over to you.
“Good to go,” he said. Then, sensing your hesitation, he inclined his head to you. “I promise, cyar’ika. I did a full scan. I didn’t see any more.”
You nodded. “Thank you. Sorry you keep having to do... everything.”
“Well, what are husbands for?” he said sweetly.
You wondered how many more times you’d need to ask him for a favor on top of everything else he was doing. You had never felt yourself a burden to him before - you were his partner, and you carried your share of the responsibilities in your marriage and in parenting. You trusted him to protect you and provide for your family, and he had always done so with a very selfless love; but these past few days had driven you to true dependence on him, and for the first time, you felt a weight of guilt settle on your shoulders.
“Hey, cyare?” he said gently. You looked up at him.
He lightly tapped your nose, and you were so pleasantly surprised by the silly little gesture of affection that you giggled like a schoolgirl. His chuckle was warm through his modulator, and you knew that if he didn’t have the helmet on, you’d see a very warm smile on his face.
“I love you very much,” he said. “And I’m honored to be the one you chose to take care of you. You could have had anybody in the galaxy, and you decided on me, and I thank the jate'kara for that every day.”
Mandalorians had a concept of good or lucky stars that steered one’s fate, and Din had always made a habit of telling you his jate'kara were the best ones in the galaxy because they had led him to you. Your smile was a little wobbly as he cupped your face, and you leaned into his touch.
“I could not ask for a better fate than to serve you until my dying day,” he said gently. “You and our son are everything to me, and if I had to build this ship from scratch for you, I would.”
He gently tweaked your cheek. “And if I have to come up and take care of more spiders for you, I will.”
You gave a soft laugh and touched your fingers to your lips, then to the bottom of his visor. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He brushed his thumb over your cheek and comforted you for a few moments before he turned to go.
“The repairs on the outside should be pretty straightforward,” he said. “I’ve already done all the wiring inside, so all that’s left to do is a patch repair that will let the cockpit pressurize before we hit the atmosphere.”
His gaze was steady, and you rested in his silent assurance that everything would be alright.
“Not long now, cyar’ika,” he said. “I promise.”
He rubbed the tip of the baby’s ear gently between his fingers. “Be good for mama.”
The baby cooed at him, and both of you watched as Din went back down the ladder to get to work. You carefully stepped over the body of the spider in the doorway; your son wriggled to be set down, thinking the spider to be an interesting toy, and you bounced him on your hip to soothe him.
“I know,” you said in a sing-song voice. “You’re not having the best time either, are you?”
He chewed slightly on the silver ball while you rummaged through the cabinets and shelves for something for him to snack on.
“Maybe when we get to Trask, we can convince daddy to let us eat dessert for a whole day.”
He babbled happily, perhaps at the thought of a whole day of sweet treats, and you smiled.
“Your daddy would go crazy,” you said. Din only liked sweet foods when he was in a particular mood for them, but you and the baby would happily eat dessert for every meal.
You found a stray packet of portion bread powder and mixed it with the little bit of water you could coax from the faucet. The baby made grabby hands towards it as it expanded into a small loaf of bread, and you tore off a piece for both of you. It was no Five Blossom Bread like the kind you’d learned to make from your mother in your childhood, but it would do for now, and you and the baby ate contentedly in the quiet of the storage room.
Your baby yawned when he finished his snack, one hand curled around his silver ball and the other grabbing a tiny fistful of your shirt as he leaned against your chest. You tucked the edge of your cloak around him and kissed his soft head.
“Should we go see what daddy’s working on?” you asked quietly. He gave a drowsy coo at the mention of his father, fighting sleep; you rocked him gently as you made your way back to the cockpit.
You could make out Din’s figure through the frosty glass, kneeling on the lip of the windshield to repair the seam between the metal and the glass. Sparks flew from the welding gun, reflecting on his beskar that looked densely covered in frost. A gentle snow fell and dusted his shoulders, and it almost would have been a pretty thing if you weren’t so desperately cold. You hoped Din was warm enough.
You knocked on the glass, but only to say hello; you gave him a small wave and a smile, and he cocked his head a little and waved back. You stood and rocked your baby as he fell asleep, watching your husband work and humming a lullaby that turned into little clouds of vapor with each breath.
Sooner than you’d expected, Din came back in and helped the frog lady bring her eggs up to the cockpit. When she was settled, the canister securely in her lap, he turned to you. He helped you put the seatbelt over your lap, careful not to wake the baby; his gaze lingered as he straightened, and he brushed a gentle finger over his son’s head.
“Okay,” he said, to both you and the frog lady as he took the pilot’s chair and started turning everything on. “Repair’s all done. Let’s see if we can get this thing going once and for all.”
The familiar sound of the Crest’s power-up sequence was a welcome bit of comfort, and you fervently hoped that everything went smoothly. If this didn’t work...
You took a deep breath as Din put a hand to the thrust lever. This was going to work. If Din couldn’t get the Crest to work, no one could. He eased the lever back and the engines roared to life.
The Crest rattled and shook like a thing possessed, but it did rise out of the ice, the metal groaning with the effort. The legs of the giant spider slid off in a final, terrible release of the ship it had damaged so thoroughly; the engines stuttered but stayed aloft as the right thruster knocked against the overhanging ice. Din eased the ship up through hole in the cavern’s ceiling as gracefully as he could, and before you’d even had a chance to process it, you were leaving the frozen planet. You gave a sigh of relief when the ship made it through the atmosphere and into the almost comforting expanse of space.
Din looked back at you, and you couldn’t help but give him a beaming grin.
“We made it,” he said, and you realized just how afraid he’d been that you wouldn’t. You reached out for his hand and he took it, holding tightly.
“I love you,” you said. “And I’m so proud of you.”
He touched his other hand to the bottom of his visor. “I’m proud of you too, ner kar’ta.” He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Let’s go somewhere warm, hm?”
You laughed, relief and happiness bubbling from you like a bottle of Daruvvian champagne.
“I’ll go anywhere you want to,” you said. Your ship was barely limping along, and both of you were tired and hungry and cold, but you were together, and safe, and off that frozen rock. You’d never felt more delighted in your life.
He released your hand with a little bit of reluctance as he set the course for Trask, and you felt a rush of happiness for your passenger that she would soon be reunited with her husband. You didn’t know what you would have done without yours by your side through this ordeal, and hoped you would never have to be separated from Din like the frog lady had been separated from her mate. She kept a loving hand over the canister of eggs in her lap, and you held your baby a little closer too.
“Wake me up if someone shoots at us,” Din said. “Or if that door gets sucked off its rails.”
The frog lady gave a concerned croak, unfamiliar with your husband’s dry humor.
“Din,” you scolded gently. He laughed a little and turned to face her.
“I’m kidding,” he assured her. It seemed he couldn’t resist one more joke, though. “If that happened, we’d all be dead.”
You rolled your eyes, affectionately exasperated. You saw him cross his arms over his chest and lean his head back against the headrest.
“Sweet dreams,” he said. You knew he’d be out like a light, and the frog lady settled herself to sleep too, resting her head on the top of the canister.
You curled up as best you could in your seat, gently shushing your baby as he had begun to stir at his father’s voice. You rocked him and brushed your fingers over his ear; you listened to the humming of the engines and the sound of Din’s slowly deepening breaths like a lullaby. You still had a long trip ahead of you, but the worst was over, and you rested in that as your husband and baby slept peacefully.