Chapter Text
The ship echoes with the sounds of occasional ticks and sputters as it settles from being powered down. The controls in the cockpit beep and blink, but there’s no pilot in the front seat.
Mando is asleep in the single, makeshift bunk, and he’s been asleep ever since they landed. There was nowhere else to go. They are parked in the middle of a rocky tundra, on a deserted planet. Nice and desolate. No Jawas around to try gutting the ship, no other bounty hunters, no immediate threats. It’s a temporary place to park, and a much needed moment of peace from all of the danger.
All is calm.
The Mandalorian stirs in his sleep, letting a hand dangle over the edge of the bed. After a moment, maybe minutes, he feels something brushing against the very tips of his fingers. It’s so delicate that he doesn’t notice at first, but then it happens again. The third time is enough to rouse him from his sleep. Blearily he opens his eyes and finds that his helmet is still on. He didn’t bother taking it off.
Then he feels the sensation on his fingertips again, like a fleeting touch, and from over the edge of the bunk he can just barely spot what seems to be a tiny little hand reaching for his own.
A soft coo breaks the silence of the ship. Mando rolls over and finds the small green child at the side of his bunk. The child freezes for a moment, like it’s been caught with its hand in the cookie jar.
“I thought I put you to bed.” Grumbles Mando, which only earns an innocent, wide-eyed stare and a coo in return. The child tilts its head this way and that, it’s ears--which are far too big for it’s head--perk up and down at the sound of the familiar voice. “How did you even get out of the crib?”
Another happy, yet uncomprehending chirp comes in response.
“What are you doing out anyway?”
The child’s ears drop and it reaches again for Mando’s hand, opening and closing its fists. It’s just barely tall enough to brush against the tips of Mando’s middle and index fingers.
“Do you want up here?”
He’s not sure why it would. There’s more room in the crib. It’s probably warmer there too but still, he heaves a sigh and reaches out his hand allowing the child to grab and hold on while he pulls it onto the bunk. A happy squeal tells Mando that he successfully understood what the child was trying to communicate.
“Alright, well if you’re going to be up here, you need to sleep. Got it?”
He doesn’t have to tell the child twice. It crawls over the chest piece of his armor and hunkers down between Mando’s side and the crook of his arm. Already, the child’s eyes begin to close and the tiniest yawn lets him now that it’s ready to sleep.
“Sweet dreams, womp rat.”