Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I like your technique

Paz can hear the yelling and the thud of things being knocked over from way down the hallway and like a good little Mandalorian, he knows it is his duty to check it out. It sounds like a brutal fight and that means there is a good chance he can finally find someone capable of being a decent opponant. It sucks that every single kid his age is either too weak or too scared to give him a real challenge anymore. So what if Paz is bigger and burlier than all of them, a true Mandalorian wouldn’t let that stop them.

Stepping into the room where the action is taking place, Paz pauses at the sight that meets him. Whatever he had expected, this wasn’t it. On the floor, Barthor is flailing, trying desperately to break free from his tormentor, who happens to be a skinny little girl with wild, curly hair, a perky nose and absolutely no fear. She’s using her tiny fists and determination like a true Mandalorian warrior. Paz gives a small huff of surprise and that catches her attention. She glares up at him through her curly locks, a clear challenge on her face asking if he wants his ass beat too.

Paz figures she might be half his weight if she was soaked fully clothed in water and the top of her head probably reaches his shoulder, but what fascinates him is how the sight of him does not deter her in any way. She merely plants her palm in Barthor’s face and shoves his head down to shut him up, which leaves her free to keep glaring at Paz.

She is.... awesome.

“I like your technique.” Paz comments in a lazy drawl. “You’re Raga, right?” He’s seen her around before, vaguely, in the background, with the other toddlers.

“Thanks.” She gives Barthor’s head a second shove as his wailing picks up. “Yeah. And you’re Paz. I know who you are. What do you want?” She sounds defensive and a little wary, (Making her smarter than most, as Paz is very much a threat to any kid looking for a fight.) but still not scared. Fearless and clever. She’s already far more interesting than all of his other friends.

Paz nods towards the hallway. “I just saw Averek and Inslo head for the training room. Think you and me could take them down?” The boys in question are both several years older than them, highly trained and top of their class.

Raga sits back on Barthor, letting go of his head and shirt to Barthor’s relief, and she grins widely at Paz, delighted at the challenge. “Definitely.”

They both end up with bloody noses and more bruises than they can count, but it is totally worth it as Averek is gifted a sprained wrist and Inslo outright hides behind Davarax when he shows up to investigate the racket and kicks the younger children out of the training room. Paz laughs as they walk away, wrapping his arm around Raga’s thin shoulders and squeezes her tight. “That was the most fun I’ve had in ages!”

Raga grins up at him. “We should do that again.”

Paz looks down at her and grins as well. Finally someone who speaks his language. “How about tomorrow?”

And something tells him this is just the start...

It’s okay

Din pushes in the last coordinate just as the door to the cockpit opens and he tosses a quick glance at it, confirming it is indeed Corin, before turning back and locking in their destination. Din leans back into the pilot seat. “Okay, Sorgan next.”

Corin takes a step towards his seat, but pauses, hesitates, and then he turns and shuffles forward to stand next to the pilot seat instead.

Looking over at him, Din finds Corin standing there staring at the floor as if he can’t make himself meet his gaze. Everything in his posture screams guilt.

“I’m sorry.” Corin mumbles, sounding guilty as well.

Frowning, Din sits up with attention. “What’s wrong?”

Corin hesitates again, even turns his head a little as if looking for an escape, that maybe he could make a run for the cargo area, maybe hide where the kid is sleeping, then he swallows hard and seems to resign himself to his fate. He slowly lifts and holds out his right hand. “It’s nothing. It really is nothing. I just… You told me to tell you a-and I promised, but I’m fine.”

Din sees Corin’s wrist is extremely swollen and that has to be hurting like hell. Anger floods through Din. He reaches out and grabs a hold of Corin’s lower arm, steadies it and studies the damage. “I told you to sit down during take off!”

But, no, Corin had been fixated on getting the toy the child wanted. Din had heard a strange yelp as the ship had given a hard buck, but Corin hadn’t said anything and Din had quite honestly forgotten about it as he had merely gone ahead and fetched the kid’s toy from its compartment.
That was hours ago. They had eaten, the child had fallen asleep and Corin had carried the kid below to its bed since then!

“I’m sorry…” Corin repeats in a low and miserable voice.

“Is it broken?” Din demands to know, tilting the arm a little to see if he can see any actual bones pressing against the skin. “This has to be broken. This is not fine!”

A quick glare up at the one determined to give him ulcers and Din feels his anger snap like a torn ligament. It is replaced with a stab of sadness.
Corin looks… scared. He’s still staring at the floor and the mesmerizing eyes that had been filled with such joy when he was playing in the snow are now brimming with guilt and fear. He’s waiting for punishment.
Carefully exhaling the renewed anger that flares up at the thought of the ones who had given Corin reason to think he will be disciplined for something like this, Din eases his grip into a light touch and clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Corin’s gaze flicks up to his before it darts down to the floor again. A faint frown visits for half a second. He doesn’t understand what Din is apologizing for and he’s too scared to ask.

Din stands up and hates that Corin automatically backs up to give him space while keeping his gaze submissively lowered. He hates it, but he forces the hatred down into his gut and gestures towards Corin’s seat. “Sit? I’m sorry I snapped at you. I didn’t mean…”

Corin quickly moves over and sits down in his seat, as if hoping to please Din with obedience and make him stop acting so weird. He still won’t look up at him. “It’s fine.”

Din reaches up to a compartment and grabs the kit with bacta strips and bandages, then he crouches down in front of him and makes Corin look at his visor. “I’m not angry with you, okay? I was just worried. I know I sound angry when I’m worried.”

There is that confused frown on Corin’s face again.

Din opens the kit and grabs some bacta gel that he gently applies to Corin’s wrist and is even more gentle when he wraps the bandage around it. “Accidents happen, Corin. What happened to your wrist was an accident. I’m not going to be angry with you because you had an accident.” He holds the wrist carefully between his hands. “I told you to tell me when you’re hurt. And you did.” Din gives a faint nod and adds as much gratitude as possible into his voice: “Thank you.”

Corin gulps down some air, shakes his head a little, doesn’t feel the first tear that slides down his skin, but when others join it; he quickly and harshly wipes at his face and his eyes with his uninjured hand to remove them as fast as possible. “Ignore me. Please. I don’t know why this… I never… This is stupid.” He tries at a laugh and fails, continues to rub at his face as if the tears are a crime.

Din instinctively knows that at some point in Corin’s life, they probably had been, and Corin’s father had dealt with their presence quite harshly. Sighing, he reaches a hand up to slide it behind Corin’s neck and urges him forward to lean against him, allows him to hide his face against Din’s neck.

“It’s okay…” Din murmurs, drawing light fingers over Corin’s nape. “It’s okay, ner kar'ta.”

And he intends to tell him as many times as it takes to make Corin believe him.

- - -

Raga's Musical Career

Raga is drunk.

Well, they're all pretty drunk, but Raga is giggling. Giggly drunk doesn't happen very often and is when Paz starts paying attention. Last time she got giggly drunk she delivered an impressive kov'nyn to a statue because she thought someone was trying to sneak up on her.

Some of the other Mandalorians gathered there are starting to drift out of the room to find their cots, knowing there will be training tomorrow and Davarax won't care if they're hung-over.
The game is to spin a blaster and if you end up in the crosshair, you have to step into the side room and drink some horrid liquid that has you pretty woozy after about two sips. Paz got lucky tonight, only having to enter the room twice, but Raga got hit five times. Din, the idiot, is stone cold sober.

And speaking of Raga and hitting, she is currently threatening to punch some startled Mandalorian before giggling and hugging them tight.
Yeah, okay, time for Raga to leave.

Paz gets up and walks over to her. “Come on. Time to go.” He clenches his jaw slightly when she turns to hug him too and only flinches a little with a grunt when she delivers a giggling punch to his side. “Say good night, Raga.” He bends down as she dives in to hug him again, making her flop over his shoulder when she misses and he straightens back up with his prize.

She doesn't fight him. She never does. She merely hangs there, giggles and chirps her good-nights and good-byes to the others as he carries her out of the room.

Paz is just stepping through the doorway when she places her hands against his shoulders, pushes, starts wiggling, pulling herself slightly more forward and he has to tighten his arm around her waist a little. “What are you...”
He hears her giggling again, with utmost glee, and he can hardly believe his own ears.

“Hee hee hee, buttflap...”

And Paz, the mighty Mandalorian, comes to a complete halt with utter disbelief when Raga drops her torso down his back, reaches out and starts patting his ass. Drumming away like an enthusiastic musician. And giggling.
Every Mandalorian in the room behind them is startled into complete silence. What the...?

The absurdity of it all has Paz snorting a laugh. There exist no other soul in the Galaxy who would dare to play a jaunty beat on his ass. No one else. No one but her. She's still as fearless as when she was just a scrawny kid.
“You're going to be the death of me, woman.” Paz declares with an amused smile, hidden under his helmet along with so many other soft feelings he can't allow.

“Buttflap.” Raga snorts, patting happily away on the fabric as well as the butt under it.

He carries her to her room, where she makes an unhappy whine as he leans down and lets her flop back on her mattress. “Go to sleep, vod.” He says.

Raga's hand grabs a hold of his pauldron as he tries to straighten up and she yanks him back down with her uncanny strength. She giggles, leans up and her t-visor is dangerously close to his.

Paz' heart jumps, he can't help it, even though he knows she doesn't think of him like that.

“You shouldn't cover up that ass, Paz. It's a mighty fine ass. A prime piece of ass.” Raga releases him just as abruptly and her head drops back to the mattress. “Mmh, tired now...”

“Then sleep...” Paz says, weirdly embarrassed and... pleased that she approves of what she'd seen? And touched. Repeatedly. Okay, time for Paz to leave! He straightens and backs away from the bed. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Raga lifts a hand and points blindly at him, confirming it, then it falls down and she is already drifting off to sleep.

Stepping out of the room, closing the door behind him, Paz turns to set course for his room, only to freeze when he sees Din leaning against the wall, arms lazily crossed and one ankle over the other.
Great.
“What do you want?” Paz growls.

Din makes a thoughtful sound, tilting his head. “So... Do I get to try those drums or is there a queue? Do you charge per slap or per minute?”

Paz stalks by him, making sure that his shoulder knocks Din off balance as he passes the younger Mandalorian; “I will shoot you in the face, Din.”

“You didn't answer my questions!” Din shouts after him with evil delight that turns into laughter when the door to Paz' room slams shut.

- - -

Barthor

The sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway they’re standing in catches Barthor’s attention. He glances over mid-conversation with Crail about the chores Davarax had handed out to see Paz walking towards them, probably heading towards the training room as usual.

“Hey, Paz.” Barthor greets, then both he and Crail bounces off Paz’ armor as he merely walks straight through them and doesn’t even bother with a reply beyond possibly a grunt.

Crail peels himself off the wall and turns his t-visor to glare after the massive shape. “He’s such a jerk. And so are the others. Raga is always making fights happen and I’m pretty sure Din is a psycho. I don’t get why you put up with them, Barthor. You should ask Davarax to move you to my group.”

Barthor shrugs and smiles a little under his helmet. “I know they can be... rough.”
Like when he tried to tell Paz that he really shouldn’t knock everyone unconscious during training and Paz had merely placed his huge hand against Barthor’s visor and shoved him away. Or when Barthor had to pull Raga off the guy stupid enough to provoke her to save his life and getting yelled at for his effort, plus severely bruised ribs due to her flailing. And Din... Yeah, Din was scary. There was the time when he had used Barthor for target practice.
“But,” Barthor continues, “they’re not all bad.” 

- Like when he’d found Din dismantling and cleaning the new blaster he’d required on the latest mission he’d been allowed out on. “Wow, that looks so cool. Everyone is going to be amazed when they see that!” Barthor had said, knowing too well he merely had an old blaster he’d inherited from an older battle-brother. There were no words to cover his surprise when Barthor entered his room that evening to find the blaster lying on his bed. He tried to give it back, but Din merely walked away.

- Or when Barthor was so excited and nervous about his first date that he was unable to eat all day. Barthor really, really liked this girl and was awkwardly aware of that he was the runt of his group. He did not expect to overhear from one of the rooms, Raga’s voice saying; “If you hurt him, I will hurt you.” And when the girl tried to squeak that she had no intention of doing so, Raga merely shushed her and said, “No, no, you don’t understand. I mean it. If you hurt him, I will hurt you.”

- And then there was the time when Barthor had found himself on the verge of getting the snot beat out of him because he refused to stop defending his clan’s honour. Inslo and two of his friends, all much more experienced fighters than Barthor, were stalking towards him, ready to pounce, when suddenly they came to an abrupt halt. Barthor saw Inslo’s pauldrons slump along with his shoulders and his entire body suddenly radiated fear. All three of them mumbled apologies and fled. Barthor, half-way into a battle stance, blinked confused, until he took a step back and bumped into a wall. No. Not a wall. Paz. Who towered behind him in the most terrifying way, like a guardian specter.

Crail shakes his head. “Whatever. I just don’t know why you put up with them.” He goes back to the list of chores and they start dividing them up.

Barthor makes sure to place Paz on clean-up duty, which he knows he hates. Raga gets to train the teenage Mandalorians, who are bound to make passes at her which will make her incredibly uncomfortable. And Din gets kitchen duty, where he has little to no interest in being. That should piss them all off. Good. 

Barthor grins. Crail might not understand, but Barthor has a sneaking suspicion he knows why he was put in this group.

- - -

Save a Blurrg, ride a Mandalorian

Raga sits down on the bench, wipes at her neck and throat with a towel. Today's training had been a tough one, Barthor and Din are quiet for once as they stagger off the mat and even she can feel a pleasant ache in her muscles. The only one who seems to have more energy to burn is of course Paz.
He continues to train even as Barthor and Din gather their stuff and then shuffle out to leave only Raga in the room with him.

Training often ends like this. And Raga doesn't mind. As a Mandalorian, she does enjoy the sight of a powerful fighter.
And Paz is about as strong as they can get.

Din and Barthor are not weak. They're quite sturdy and muscular, impressive by themselves, but they are nowhere near as massive as Paz.
No one in the Covert is.
And while she's quite proud of her own progress when it comes to building muscle, there is something undeniable thrilling about being near that kind of raw strength. Raga is no fragile flower, but standing next to Paz makes her feel small, and strangely enough not in a bad way.

She watches as he eventually winds down and decides to call it a day as well. His short-sleeved shirt gives her a nice view of his arms and how it tightens over his shoulders and Raga looks.

Okay, so he's her friend, but she's 17, she totally blames hormones. And it's not like he knows she looking. It's just not possible to ignore Paz when he's in a room. He's just too... big.
Raga absently wipes a drop of sweat from her neck.

“You done?” Paz asks, bending down to pick up his towel and walking towards her.

Humming confirmation, Raga watches him move. It's not just the muscles that makes him big, everything about him is big. His towering height, the width of those shoulders, his hands, that massive chest, the solid stomach and thick thighs... and...
Yeah, definitely hormones.

Once he pauses in front of her, Raga stands up and hopes her voice is steady. “Want to go cause some trouble?”

Paz laughs, a deep sound from his chest, and he wraps a strong arm around her neck and yanks her against him. “You looked ready to fall over at the end of the session. I think you need to rest, vod. We can do trouble tomorrow.”

Making a sound of protest, Raga squirms and pushes halfheartedly at his chest. (It's not her fault her brain enthusiastically registers the physique under her palms.) “Ew. Gross. You're all sweaty. Let go!”

That makes Paz laugh again and he wraps his other arm around her waist as well, pulling her even tighter against him instead. “I’m gross, huh?”

Oh, not only is he big, but the damn guy also gives the best hugs. Even this teasing, sweaty one makes Raga want to burrow closer and stay there forever. Relaxed and playful, only using a fraction of his strength, he's soft and so very comfortable to be squished against. He's like a giant pillow, hiding Beskar strength within. She has always loved his hugs. (Even Din did, at one point.)
Raga pushes halfheartedly at him again, definitely not at all flustered or wondering for one insane moment how his size and strength could give anyone a rodeo of their lifetime.
She is absolutely not disappointed when she hears a female voice calling out his name and feels Paz release her.

“Hey.” He turns his attention to the doorway, where his latest girlfriend is standing. “I'll be right there.” Paz glances back to Raga. “Tomorrow?”

Raga nods. “Tomorrow.” Her hands are still warm with the heat of him. Stupid hormones. And his are clearly worse than hers, judging by the tiny Mandalorian with an ugly helmet waiting for him. He has horrible taste. “Have fun.”

“I will.” He replies with a clear grin, rapping his knuckles over her helmet and laughing when Raga slaps his hand away.

She watches him place his arm around the girl's shoulders and lead her away, probably to his room, and Raga gnaws thoughtfully on her lower lip. It's just his hormones. The girlfriend won't last. A week, tops. Not worth thinking about.  Raga just needs to get her own damn hormones under control. And she will.

Hmm, Raga had told Zhyion no last week when he asked her out, but he is kind of tall and definitely burly... Not as big as Paz, but not bad. Maybe she should see what he's up to.

And time proves her right: Paz' girlfriends never last, neither does Raga’s relationships, but their friendship remain as strong as Beskar. They lose Din when he sets out on a path of his own, driven by anger and bitterness, and Barthor becomes distant when he decides to walk in Davarax' footsteps to train the next generation, but Paz never leaves her.

During the funeral of her brothers, Paz is a quiet pillar of support next to her. Through her tears, Raga feels his big hand taking hers, carefully braiding their fingers, and she gives his a grateful squeeze.

Yeah, Paz is big, but Raga knows the biggest thing about him is his heart.

And that is what she loves most about her best friend.

- - -

What he never had

Din enters the cabin, kicking snow off his boots before removing them and walking inside the living room. While his layers of clothing keeps him from freezing, there's no denying that it is damn cold outside and how much he appreciates the fact that Corin has lit up the fireplace and so Din is greeting by warmth the second he steps inside.

He removes his cloak as well before walking over to where Corin is sitting by said fireplace, focused on whatever he's working on. More Mando'a studies? A quick scan of the room finds the deeply concentrated child stretched out on the floor a small distance from Corin, drawing on a piece of paper, surrounded by discarded lumps of different coloring wax and unfinished masterpieces.
“Hey. I see the artist is hard at work. What are you up to?” Din asks as he walks over to Corin. He sees the man flinch a little. Corin's head ducks down and his shoulders tense up. That usually means he's up to something harmless that he expects Din to get upset about.

“I, uh...” Corin hesitates. “I'm making... this.”

Din sits down next to him and sees that Corin appears to be carving some kind of figure out of a small piece of wood.

Din tilts his head curiously. “Can I see?”

Corin hesitates, then hands over the half-formed figure. It's clearly meant to become a frog.

Studying it, turning it in his hand, Din smiles under his helmet. “This is pretty good. I'm impressed.” He hands it back, curious as to why Corin would think this would upset him, but the man won't look at him with those beautiful eyes of his.

“I just...” Corin eventually mumbles, fidgeting with the half-shaped frog. “According to the puck, he's one year older tomorrow.” The shoulders tense up even more as he braces himself. “I wanted to give him something...”

Din frowns, scrambling to put the pieces together and make sense of the words. Suddenly he realizes. The child. Its given birth date stated on the bounty puck, that was tomorrow. And Corin wanted to give him a gift.
Din feels a jab of shame over that he hadn't thought that far himself. He reaches out and picks up a piece of firewood yet to be fed to the flames and settles himself. “I'll make one too. How about a Loth-cat? We can make a whole bunch of animals.” He pulls out a blade and starts working as he leans over to whisper; “And we should head into the village tomorrow, get him some treats. We can bring him to that new play area they were working on last week. I'm willing to bet most of his friends will be there and we can get them to give him some of these wood animals. Also, if they're selling that flavored ice, we could get that too. For everyone.”

Corin is staring at him. Relief and surprise is warring in his eyes.

Din pauses. “What?” Had that been too much? He doesn’t remember nearly enough about his parents, but Din does remember how they used to dote on him on that day. And even the Covert made a big deal of that day if the person wanted them to. He's fairly certain the child would love such a day.

A mix of far too many emotions to count flashes in Corin's eyes and he quickly returns his focus to working on the frog. “Nothing.”

Now Din is the one staring while he yet again tries to put the pieces together. An unsettling suspicion crawls up Din's spine and he slowly turns his attention to carving the first pieces out of the wood. “I'm, uh, guessing you didn't celebrate yours all that much...?”

“No.” Corin's voice is carefully flat. “It was nothing to celebrate.” Then he suddenly looks over at Din again and smiles with pure delight as he whispers: “We shouldn't tell him we're going to that play area. Make it a surprise. He would love that.”

Din's heart clenches painfully and he has to clear his throat to regain his voice. “Yeah...” Putting the blade down, he then reaches out and gently brushes a lock of hair Corin's hair back from his forehead. “We'll make it his best celebration ever and then, tomorrow night when he's asleep, we'll start planning on how to top it next year. Deal?”

That makes Corin's smile shine even brighter with happiness, so eager to give the child what he never had; unconditional love and adoration. “Deal.”

Din slides his hand behind Corin's neck and they meet in a soft kov'nyn.
“The kid is going to love that present of yours.” Din murmurs.

“You think so?” Corin sounds hopeful.

“Yeah.” Din has no doubt whatsoever. Partly because the child is obsessed with frogs, but mostly because Din is willing to bet that the kid will be able to feel how much love is poured into that gift. “Trust me, ner kar'ta. It's perfect.”

- - -

Attack of the spood

“Did you hear Din is coming back?” Paz asks.

“Mmm.” Raga replies, disinterested, busy fidgeting with her vambrace.

“I don’t get why they allow him back into the Covert. He’s always leaving again, why does he even bother coming back?” Paz feels the usual anger when he thinks about Din Djarin. “It’s not fair he gets to leave and we’re stuck below. We’re Mandalorians. We’re warriors. We should be out there.”

“Mmm.” Raga replies, closing her vambrace.

“I’m just saying,” Paz continues, but the words fade quickly as he sees Raga’s body give a sharp jolt and then... she is more or less throwing herself at Paz. Her arms grabs a hold of his armor, her body up against his, and for a crazed moment; Paz thinks he must have fallen asleep and is dreaming. That is the only way this could be happening. In a dream.

But then Paz realizes that Raga hasn’t stopped. No, the woman is now actually climbing him,  yet not in the way he’d pictured it in his secret dreams. There is a steady stream of a single word. (He could have sworn it sounds like ‘nope!’) She’s already got a knee up on his shoulder, threatening to topple him over and Paz automatically flails with one hand and supports her with the other.
“Raga?!”

She doesn’t answer, merely straddles his shoulder, one muscular thigh against his throat and the other behind his neck, and he probably shouldn’t find that as enticing as he does, which is when she actually activates her flamethrower at some invisible threat in front of them.

By the time the flames die down, Paz is too stunned to talk. What just happened?
And then he sees, from the ashes on the ground, a spider scuttles for freedom. Smiling, knowing his helmet will hide it from her, he reaches up and gently pats her knee and gives her an excuse.
“If you wanted to do battle practice, you just had to ask, you know?”

He never would have guessed that Raga is afraid of spiders, but he will keep her secret. He’s already kept his own secret for two decades, he can keep hers as well.