Archive of Our Own ^beta

The potential for a fight always gets Mandalorian’s geared up.

Everyone of them tense, hard wired for the fight, witnessing or taking sides even with the Armorer defusing the situation as Din pulls his blade away, his moves smooth.

The taller alpha gave one last snarl before doing the same.

But then Paz Vizla froze, visor focused on Djarin as he remained sitting at the Armorer’s table.

The knife had nicked the skin of the smaller man in the almost fight.

A thin roll of blood was on Vizla’s knife, rolling lightly over the metal in the dim light, more likely hidden beneath their beroya helmet and kute.

But that wasn’t what had frozen Vizla, a knife wound was to be expected with where he put the blade, no, it is the scent reaching slowly but steadily through the compound had reached him first.

Inside his armor and his kute, Djarin had been as good as scentless, most likely coupled with scent blockers their hunter had collected when out of the Covert. A good thing when one was a bounty hunter, those who realized approved of the decision, though no one in the covert had, though others outside it had.

Greef Karga was very careful with which bounties he gave one of his best and if he was honest, favorite bounty hunters.

Those who didn’t made assumption about Djarin.

Beta.

But with the release of blood came the release of scent, barely caught through the filters of their helmets but there.

Omega.

Not just any kind of omega either.

No, a highly fertile one as strong as the scent was even through helmet filters, tinged with distress, uncertainty present in their scent and sharp, sour, hurt.

This was the last thing that had been expected, Mandalorian’s weren’t stupid about designations but having their sole beroya turn out to be an omega…

It rattled bones when they were so few already.

Anything could happen out there. And omegas thrived on contact, it was why most of the omegas of the tribe made more than one bond, to continue on the human contact they needed.

Hell, even the Armorer, solitary by nature of her personality and her role as a leader, had two bonded mates even if she had no children, not even foundlings.

Others had bonded family packs, siblings or parents and not just mates, giving them the contact they needed.

Djarin had been the sole beroya of the clan since his father died, always going, always leaving and not bonding to anyone in that manner.

Had been alone on the Razor Crest since, with no one to hold, no one to touch, no one to look after them when their heat hit.

He simply settled into the pack every time he returned, part of it but not bonded to anyone closely.

“A surprise this is,” The Armorer finally said, resting her hands on the table, quite clearly staring though what she was thinking, no one knew. But there was a question in that voice. “You… presented late.” It wasn’t a question now.

The beroya still nodded in answer, his own hands settled on the table too, away from his weapons. “Buir let me choose, said I should tell whenever I was ready. Then he died.” Djarin’s dark T-visors stares straight at the Armorer. “The Covert needed me.”

That answered everything and yet nothing.

A late presenting, after he got into his armor.

Potential genetic, stress from his life or just a random quirk of Djarin’s, waiting until he was far past swearing the resol’nare, waiting until he was stuck in his armor and away from the Covert with only his buir around.

A buir that took in him, gave him his name, who respected his son enough to let him decide.

A buir, who had been killed on their hunt.

A young but capable beroya, their only one, well aware that he was their only beroya after the Purge and the death of his father, their means to many credits and information, though others went up for shorter trips than Djarin himself.

A new one would take longer to train, maybe longer than they really could afford, their foundlings needing what Djarin could provide via credits, which bought them food, medicine, comforts and all the things a foundling would need.

And so Djarin said nothing and simply made due with what he had.

Who knew how many wires that had crossed in the omegas brain, starved for touch, starved for bonds and starved for contact.

And too late to do anything about right now as Din simply left the beskar to the Armorer and went to find his space, deftly avoiding anyone as he covered the bloodied cut on his neck with a gloved hand.

It could blamed on the day, the entire week, the revelation or something else but for whatever reason, Din is distracted as he comes out of his room, sans armor except for his helmet as he steps into hallway.

Sporting simply his helmet and his suit, not even his cape, makes him look so much smaller for all his lean muscles.

His durasteel cuirass, vambrace, pauldron, cuisse and greaves left behind for some reason, maybe the other is going for a shower, maybe for once he’s letting himself be vulnerable, maybe it needs to be polished and repaired.

Paz doesn’t know.

Doesn’t really care.

It makes what he does next easier as he swipes out of the shadows and catches the smaller man, lifting Din clean off his feet as he traps the other against the wall. But he ensures his arm is between the others back and the wall, his hand cupping Din’s helmet.

He’s not here to harm him but talking with Din isn’t easy on a good day.

Djarin is not having good days lately and Paz is not here for a fight.

Its why his hand shifts the moment he has Din captured, feeling the others legs come up, likely to knock into his stomach as his hands grab onto Paz pauldrons.

But Paz hands closes around the back of the others neck before that, scruffing the other as he gripped.

His breath catches when instantly Din hands fall lax and his feet drop. Din is stupidly strong and its a bit heady to have caught him off guard and capturing him like this despite Paz not angling for a fight.

“Vizla…” Din still manages to growl, despite the scuffing, despite his body going lax and his muscles responding to the release of endorphins the scruffing does. It says something about the trust Din at least has in the pack, brings Paz some relief.

Because Paz admits now what he didn’t want to admit the other day.

He’s worried.

Worried about Djarin, about Din.

He has been for years now, even as a beta, separating from the pack isn’t easy and he knows that bounty hunting work isn’t easy on the heart or the mind.

After this, he knows that the wires of the others head has been crossed.

The fact that the other isn’t fighting him, just dangles between Paz and the wall clues him in too, Din’s toes barely scruffing the floor.

He’s not sure but this close, Din should be able to smell Paz as much as Paz can smell Din and he can’t help but wonder when the last time someone touched the other kindly. It is why Paz eases the his grip lightly, thumbing carefully over where he thinks the scent gland is.

Din lets out a low noise, the vocoder scrambling it so Paz can’t tell if its good or bad, but he continues. “Ni ceta.” He whispers quietly.

He feels more than he sees Din stiffen.

Clearly the other knows for what but not the why.

Paz can’t explain, not really, everything had just boiled over for him.

He was so tired of hiding, so tired of fearing the Empire, even the remains. And Din working with them when Paz was so worried about the other hit all the wrong spots.

Mixed in with his recent rut, Paz will admit that he took it all the wrong way and let his aggression speak where his concern should have.

But Paz has never been a subtle man, it is not his way, not the way of the Vizla.

Loud and proud, that’s the Vizla clan and yet here they are, hiding in a sewer.

But to take it out on a packmate… it was too far.

And even worse, revealing Din to the rest of the pack.

Exposing an omega, when they were so few now, was a thing of shame and had there been any aruetii around to smell him, to know, Paz would have…

Well, he’s grateful there were none.

Just as he’s grateful now as he presses a bit closer to the others neck, the smell coming in from under the helmet.

Omega, still stressed, still sour, but not hurt, the other had put bacta on it.

Good. “Ni ceta.” He simply repeated again, easing his grip slowly so he could set Din on his feet, bending his back to keep his arm between the other and the wall.

Din clung to his cuirass, wobbly footed from the scruffing but not pulling away. “…Ni ne linibar gar baatir.” He finally hissed and yet his body remained pliant, his usually graveled tone slurred.

Paz simply thumbed gently at the hidden gland. ‘Of course you do, even if you won’t admit it. If not mine then someone else, anyone. Child, parent or bondmate.’ He thought sadly. Din’s behavior made so much more sense now. Din was so used to no one worrying or caring properly that he felt wrong footed by it.

Slowly, Paz shifted his head from the others neck to gently clink their foreheads together, hearing Din’s breath hitch. “Ni ceta.” Paz repeated once more, more than willing to grovel for Din’s forgiveness, standing in the hallway with the omega hidden by his own larger bulk.

Well, this was a situation Din had never expected.

How he had ended up in an alcove with Paz Vizla of all people, pressed up against him with only their helmets and flightsuits on, he wasn’t sure.

And he didn’t want to know as he pressed his helmet plating to the man’s shoulder, curled up in the large lap.

The damn alpha had come out of nowhere, scruffing Din when he had been about to go take a warm shower and try and dispel the uncertainty lingering in his veins with… well anything.

Hell, he had been tempted to get some spotchka, drink himself silly.

Maybe he’d be able to forget the look on the kids face then as he was lead away by the scientist.

Maybe.

His stomach curdled with unease once more at the memory and he squirmed only for Vizla’s hand to suddenly return to the back of Din’s neck, thumb once more pressing on his scent gland.

Instantly, his muscles turned soft again, Din letting out a low, garbled whine of contentment.

Since his father passed, no one had done this to him and Paz was being so respectful, his hands never going too low or trying to find skin.

No, the alpha kept his hands on fabric and kept them out of any intimate zones and while the removal of the gloves had almost gotten Din out of his skin at first, he had relaxed as Paz did something to him that no one else had in years.

Well, except that one time a bounty figured it out and had tried to take advantage of Din, but he’d driven his blade into the fuckers guts for trying, his instincts screaming at him with an unfamiliar alpha touching him.

Paz however was not an unfamiliar alpha.

For all the agitation and the almost fight, Paz was as familiar as the Armorer, a part of the pack, something that had been there since Din was rescued from the droids when his mother and father died, since his buir took him in, since he went into training.

Always steady and always there.

And safe in this moment.

Din was not a small man.

He knew he was lanky and he had muscles to match but compared to the alpha, whose lap he was sitting in, Din actually felt small.

Especially with that hand holding the back of his neck, scruffing him to release hormones and the other hand rubbing up and down Din’s back.

Through their kutes, Din could feel how warm the other was and for a wild moment, he almost wished to take his helmet off to press his cheek to the others chest.

The sensations were almost enough to put Din to sleep.

His rest had not been good, not since he gave up the child to the Imp. His instincts had been clawing and screaming at him, for giving up a child to someone that would hurt him for sure.

But in Paz lap, curled up into the alpha with the slow, gentle touches that had him tensing in the start…

It was different, his body was relaxing and his mind was filling with static.

Eyes blurry he peered at the blue cuirass resting beside them, Paz having removed all his armor to do this. He wondered how many had seen Paz out of his armor like this or at the very least, how many had been curled up into the man without the armor.

Not many Din suspected.

It felt nice to be one of the few, even if he knew that it was because he was an omega and the covet was on edge due to the revelation. No one would of course stop him from being a bounty hunter, but it was harder to let go of an omega alone into the galaxy he knew, when they were so few.

Every member, beta, alpha or omega, hurt them and they could ill afford to loose even one.

But an omega was guaranteed to carry, to give more than one youngling to the covet, loosing someone that could give more members were always worse.

Din remembered someone crudely once putting it as ‘you only need one bull among the cows for calves to be born.’ and while crude, the analog was right.

And Din…

He had wanted, lonely heats with only himself and his pathetic nest in the Razor Crest, he’d imagine sometimes even as he tried not to.

They’d let him go, as he always did, but they’d try to entice him back quicker, to help him find someone to bond to, be it platonic or romantic.

Din got it, he really did, omegas like him weren’t made for lonesomeness, not really, his mind craved the closeness of another person, someone to hold and cuddle as he forced himself forward. But the covet had needed him more.

“Are you still awake, beroya?” Paz rumbled, voice low but soft, cutting through Din’s thoughts.

Closing his eyes, Din just gave a sleepy noise, whining slightly when Paz hand on his spine paused.

There was a quiet chuckle, Paz shifting slightly against the wall as his hand went back to the steady rub.

Just for a little while, Din would let himself have what he craved, some pack contact.

And then he’d do his duty.

This was the way.

He has a kid.

Sitting in the pilot seat, staring at the green, cooing thing, Din isn’t sure what to make of himself.

Hadn’t he so long ago sworn that he’d never be swayed by his own instincts, that he wouldn’t be that kind of omega?

The ones media liked to portray, the omega with wide hips and a child on it with an alpha coming home from work to scent them?

Not that there was anything wrong with that way of life.

It just…

It wasn’t Din.

Din was not that kind of omega.

Din walked a lonesome road, flew among the stars, kept to himself and tried to hide his designation to avoid complications. Hell, the few times he had flown his old gang, he had always dismantled his nest and hid it.

He didn’t want to bother with them figuring it out.

But here he was, a child on his lap and a covet he had left behind to fend of the Imperial remains of a Moff, his instincts having screamed too loudly when he saw the hover pram in the trash.

The moment he had seen it, his mind had switched off and his instincts had kicked in.

Just hours earlier he had been in Paz Vizla’s lap, giving into said instincts.

Maybe they had been closer to the surface from, maybe it had been his own guilt, maybe Din was trying to give himself excuses, maybe it was a combination of all three.

But the end result was the same.

A child in his lap on the Razor Crest, his covet left behind and a bounty on his head more than likely, along with the kid.

And he didn’t even know what species it was or what his name was.

Dropping his head back, Din’s helmet made a thumping noise as he exhaled loudly, the kid staring back up at him while chewing on his hand. “…I’m not quite sure what to do now.” Din admitted quietly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Din had given into his instincts and his covet was paying the price, while Din fled.

Like a coward.

He twitched and the kid gave a low, worried coo at him, Din closing his eyes before letting out a shaking breath. His scent must be sour again, Din wasn’t sure what to do about that.

There was nothing in his life to tell him how to deal with this.

Maybe if Din had reached out a little more to the rest of his pack, maybe if he had spoken to the Armorer, after all, as an omega and alor, she would know more, know better, maybe some way for Din to deal, so many maybe’s and nothing to do about them as he carefully lifted the kid and put him back in the pram.

Instead he forced himself to inhale and exhale steadily, forcing calm into his veins as he repeated the action four more times.

Least he felt calmer as he turned back to the kid, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t suppose you have any answers kid?” He questioned tiredly, only to get a soft coo and the kid chewing on his hand again.

Din blinked, turning back to the controls to put the Razor Crest into autopilot.

Then he stood and picked up the child. “I imagine they didn’t feed you properly in that lab,” He mused out loud, wondering when was the last time he had spoken this much to someone. “If you’re willing to choke down some rations, I got some food at least.” He moved out into the galley, heading to the small, very small, kitchen it had.

It would be at least something for the kid to eat… if he ate rations.

Honestly, Din wasn’t sure what this kid even ate and for a panicked little moment, he wondered if the kid was so young that he drank milk. Then his mind kicked in and reminded him that the little one had eaten a live frog for Manda’s sake.

It was very unlikely that the kids proximity would push Din’s body into producing milk.

He let out a shaken breath of relief, the kid squeaking up at him, as if questioning what was wrong now.

“Alright kid, lets see how you do with bland rations.” Din bounced him absently a bit, his brain pausing on the move before he just forced himself to get the ration bars out. ‘Just… roll with it Din, just roll with it.’

Sometimes, just sometimes if he was very, very honest with both himself and the kid, Din would think about trying to find other mandalorians.

From his covert.

Finding out if they had joined another covert or maybe made a new one if enough of them had survived. The Armorer had confirmed that some of them had escaped and he knew the none-combatant, the few elderly and the foundlings they had at the very least escaped.

Though calling them noncombatant wasn’t quite right.

After all, no mandalorian, with or without a weapon, could be called harmless.

There were just some that weren’t front line fighters and would be ushered to safety before others.

There was no shame in it.

Warriors past their prime that had lived a long life of fighting and children yet to become soldiers or swear their resol’nare.

Yet still able to to defend themselves.

And Din, despite all the days he had flown off of and out into the galaxy, wanted to find them, settle his own foundling into the care of the pack, maybe eat a proper meal that he didn’t have to buy…

Oh, Din was a horrible cook, he was more than willing to admit that and therefore set aside credits to buy food the kid could eat out with, proper food with proper nourishment, like the bone broth.

It had a lot of minerals and vitamins, something Din figured the kid needed considering he ate a whole frog.

Rehydrated rations were a maker-sent blessing, since Din’s diet could be… solitary.

Considering he somehow managed to set fire to the Razor Crest little kitchen last time he tried to make something proper, it was better that way.

His cupboards prior to the child was mostly full of rehydrated bread pouches, cups of noodles and ration bars. Oh and a dish of salted blue butter, if you used warm water, you got warm bread and Din enjoyed the melted salty butter taste it got when it was warm.

But all of that made him think of the covert, made him think of the kitchen in the covert, about the mix of betas, alphas and omegas that made meals everyday for the entire covert to come and eat if they wanted.

Never a morsel wasted, leftovers always used and always enjoyed, food eaten later if they didn’t show up during the actual dinner time.

And if he in particular thought of Paz Vizla, settled in front of one of the stoves with a large pot of tiingilar, the alpha laughing as he added beer and spices to the dish along with soft bread to dip into the sauce and get every little bit of delicious spot of sauce, it was just because of the food.

It was very good food.

Full of warmth and filling and Din always made sure to grab a full bowl of it once he was sure Paz was out of view due to how conflict filled their relationship was, not wanting to bloat the alpha’s head.

That thought lead him to a dark alcove, armors off with thick arms wrapped around Din, a low alpha rumbling in his ear as Din let himself rest.

So far, Din had meet several alphas, hell, he had even started weaning himself off his suppressors and only wore the scent removers when his anxiety got the better of him.

Oh the look on Xi’an and Ranzar’s faces had been precious, Din had laughed himself to tear about it for days after.

But none of those alphas measured up to Paz.

And maybe, in those secret little wishes, his fantasy hoped that Paz was alright, that the alpha was… waiting on him.

“I think I got my head screwed on wrong,” He sighed, looking at the kid as he paused in eating a cookie. “…Where in the world did you get that?” The kid of course just cooed at him before giggling.

Bemused, Din watched him before shaking his head slowly.

Well, this was the same kid that ate a live frog, so at this point he was sure that an old cookie wouldn’t harm him, because Din seriously could not remember buying in any cookies in a long while.

Or maybe the kid stole it in their last planet hop.

Sounded like him, little mischievous womp rat.

The thought was fond however and Din released his belt to stand, moving over to pick the kid up and settle him on his hip. “So, lets go see about this Jedi that Kryze talked about, huh?” He bounced him a bit, lips twitching into a smile when the kid instantly cooed and giggled.

The dip in the ocean hadn’t been too good for Din but at least he wasn’t feeling as under the weather and having the kid like this… well it helped.

Having weaned himself off his suppressors, his instincts were helping out too and he lifted him up to his neck, feeling an ear brush his neck before there was a noise and the kid made happy little cooing noises.

This close, the kid could smell Din like no one else had, the lack of suppressors, no scent wipers and the closeness to the slight opening in his kute not keeping the smell as wrapped up as Din used to.

Rubbing the kids back, Din wondered…

Would Paz like his scent?

He had been virtually scentless or upset when they were together last, no clear read on him due to that. But Paz had tried to scent him as best he could with his wrists pressing gently to the few exposed areas Din had, leaving his own scent on Din even if Din had no scent.

But now he was without chemical altering in his systems, he’d soon be fully done weaning himself and with the little gaps in his kute…

That was if Paz was even alive, Din hadn’t seen his helmet in the pile but…

He tightened his grip on the kid.

No, he had no other choice but to think that Paz was alright, he was a Vizla.

And a big shabuir like him would fight to survive and to protect.

The kid tapped his clawed hand on Din’s pauldron, cooing more worriedly now and Din let out a shuddering breath. “Its alright pup, I’m just… thinking. Just thinking.” Din whispered, smiling sadly when he felt the little one stroke gently between the nooks of his pauldron and cuirass.

For a moment, he was tempted to pull off his helmet, to press a kiss to the little one’s head.

He settled for a gentle ear stroke, humming quietly as the kid settled and went back to eating what was left of the cookie, the two cuddled up into each other for just a few precious moments.

Neither thought about the fact that maybe in a few days, Din might have to give up on the child or the pain that would come with separation.

No, for just a few moments, the galaxy didn’t exist, only they and the Razor Crest did.

To be honest, Boba had the mandalorian clocked the moment he saw him, zipping over the dunes on his speeder and the few interactions he had seen before the man had left Tatooine.

He had known even before he was close enough to smell the other man or speak to him that this was an omega. It was all in the way the other behaved around the child, the way he kept him safe and yes, the creed of the mandalorians made children the most important thing.

But not everyone acted with younglings like an omega on instincts.

It was in the way the man kept scenting the child as best he could with what little skin he had exposed, in the way he cradled him close and Boba had seen others like the mandalorian before.

Omegas with pups had a certain way about them.

His own father had been the same and Jango was always fresh in Boba’s mind, even as he had lost the memory of his father’s voice and the way he smelled with the years.

But the way he behaved, the way he cradled Boba close to his chest and pressed his scent to Boba’s skin… no, that was something Boba would never forget.

It was one of the things that had made Boba hate his own alpha designation in his younger years when he finally presented, wanting to claw himself out of his skin as he wished for that connection to his father.

But he had been an unaltered clone, his designation, just like his personality, had formed on its own and sometimes he wondered if his buir would have been proud to see his son an alpha or just not really cared one way or another.

The clones had all been without secondary genders, except for the alphas and the nulls, the earliest of the clones where the Kamino’s had still been working on the DNA sequences. So maybe Boba should just be grateful he had a designation.

He had seen the issues the clones went through without having one, the way humans reacted to them, the way they seemed to be considered less. Some of them had even reacted that way to Boba when they saw his face, until they realized he wasn’t just a clone with a fake scent but a true alpha, ready to kark them up.

Boba had his designation and he had his life and he had made peace with many things in his life.

But what he couldn’t make peace with was the scent of distressed omega, the alpha in him sitting up and taking notice even as he tried to keep his distance.

He had a duty to help the man find his foundling for returning the armor, seeing how Djarin had lost everything, Boba might be the best one that could help him.

At least in the ship department and Boba was a capable man, his scar and stint in the sarlacc had done nothing to ruin his skills if they had turned rusty inside it. Training and muscle memory had fixed that however once he was out, hunting for his armor.

And Boba owed him a debt, one Djarin could trust, that Boba wouldn’t suddenly turn on him like the rest of the galaxy could.

Being in Slave 1, the scent was hard to escape and even Fennec was starting to show discomfort at it, the beta often glancing towards the hold where Djarin had holed up, manically checking, dismantling, cleaning and setting together his weapons again.

Finally, Boba let out a deep sigh and stood from the controls, giving Fennec a nod to take the controls before making his way to the doors. He could hear the woman’s relief as she switched seats.

Clearly she thought he’d deal with it and Boba intended to.

But if he was successful, that was something else.

Djarin is sitting on an ammo crate in the hold, a blaster in hand, simply cradling the weapon as if he realizes he can’t do more with it but can’t bring himself to put it down, as if he wishes he was cradling something else with how gentle his gloved hands are. Even without the scent, Boba would have been able to tell that this was a miserable man.

The bounty hunter sits slumped, his head bent down and he doesn’t even twitch when Boba steps in.

If it wasn’t for the way he was breathing, Boba could have been forgiven for thinking the man asleep.

Slowly, so not to set the other of, Boba makes his way over and sits down beside him, looking at the hands cradling the blaster. “…We’ll get him back to you,” He murmured quietly, watching the armor jerk a bit. “My debt to you isn’t over until your pup is with you.” Boba promised softly, carefully releasing some of his scent.

It could go either way, doing it but the mando slowly tilted his head towards Boba and he could hear  the other take a breath, pause then breath even deeper, twitching slightly on the crate.

If Boba was to take a guess, he’d imagine the omega wanted to press closer.

But Boba was a stranger, an unfamiliar alpha, to shift closer now was simply instincts and not caution and logical thoughts speaking.

But seeing as how his scent was helping, Boba released more of it, the distressed omega scent lessening slowly.

Sighing, Boba reached up and removed his helmet, ignoring how the mando twitched. Those who followed the Watch Creed was always a bit iffy about exposed faces. Never got it himself and Boba knew of enough mando that removed their helmets.

It was the loss of armor that was the real sanction for becoming dar’manda, not showing your face.

But to each their own and since the scent of distressed omega didn’t grow, Boba set his helmet down beside his feet, focusing on Djarin again. “…Think about your child scent.” He murmured quietly.

A quiet whine escaped the bounty hunter.

Slowly, Boba reached out and settled his hand on the others vembrace. “Think about the way you’ll hold him when you get him back,” He pushed gently. “Think about what you’ll say to him,” Djarin let out another whimper, dropping his forehead to Boba’s pauldron. “Think about what you’ll do to that demagolka that took him… and draw strength from all of it.” A small but sharp growl escaped the vocoder of the other.

Boba wasn’t sure if he had really helped the feisty, distressed omega but the scent of distressed omega had lessened, replaced by Boba’s own pheromones and the scent of angry omega.

The sharp kind of scent.

The kind of scent that made mandalorian alphas sit up and take notice as it was the kind of omega they wanted. The kind of scent that warned everyone to be on their best behavior or they would get fucked up.

Moff Gideon better have an army on his cruiser when they caught up with him and the child Boba thought with satisfaction, because he had a storm coming.

A storm in the form of a very pissed of, very protective omega. “Jate, we’ll get him back.” Boba promised, squeezing the others forearm gently.

If Boba was asked, he’d wonder if Skywalker’s nose worked or if he was just heartless because he couldn’t understand how the Jedi had accepted the pup when Din came back smelling like that.

Like pain, grief and sour loss that seemed to be sending Dune into a tizzy as Din swayed towards the ramp and a waiting Boba.

It hadn’t escaped Boba that the Nite owl alpha at Kryze side was wearing her helmet and staying far back even as Kryze followed, the redhead’s face taunt even she tried to get the man to fight her there and then for the darksaber.

At least one of them had respect enough not to hassle Din right in that moment, even if her leader was trying to get a fight out of the man.

It made Boba’s lips pull into a snarl at the sight as he stepped down to grasp the taller man by the shoulder.

Boba didn’t put up with that shit and had pulled Din into the bowels of Slave 1, Dune and Kryze snarling at each other on the ramp with Shand quickly slipping up to the cockpit to get them ready to leave, recognizing that Boba would deal with the bounty hunter.

Boba focused on the broken omega, his hand resting on his shoulder as he pushed and pulled the man along slowly and steadily until he had Din in his quarters.

Din barely twitched at entering the alpha’s territory, one he had made clear to everyone to not enter.

But Din…

Boba couldn’t leave him just in the cargo hold in the makeshift beds right now, not with the grief practically wafting off him.

He could feel every instinct he had suppressed for years come roaring to life, telling him to protect and kill for the omega, telling him that his new packmate was in danger.

There was nothing he could do though, the danger was already past and done and now Din had to cope.

Which was why Boba carefully unlaced and undid the others armor, his concern rising when he didn’t even get a token protest, simply Din swaying on his feet.

“Easy…” He rumbled, setting Din’s helmet on his own armor stand for now, noting that it would need polishing as he set the darksaber on a weapon hook and the beskar spear to the wall.

Taking the helmet from the other man, he noted with even more concern that the back of it was slightly dented in, wondering what kind of force could do that kind of damage and quickly he grasped the other by the chin to look at his eyes.

It didn’t look like the other had a concussion, his pupils weren’t large or unfocused.

He simply looked… lost, standing in his kute in front of Boba, blinking down at him.

Boba still checked on the back of the others head, running his fingers through sweat stiff hair with gentle fingers. There was a tell tale sign of a bump back there but not much else thankfully, so, with his armor now on the stand, Boba guided Din to the bed and Boba’s den.

He carefully had the man settle down on the edge and then knelt, ignoring his aching knees as he did, undoing the others boots and pulling them off, grimacing internally as he noted the other wasn’t wearing socks and a quick check confirmed to him that Din had blisters on the heels of his feet. ‘Di’kut.’ He thought sadly, wondering if that was aimed at himself or at Din.

Not that he blamed the other too much, having lost everything on his ship outside of what he was wearing, a gear shift ball and a beskar spear.

“Why?” The soft, raspy voice made Boba look up, meeting those large, lost eyes.

Reaching up slowly, trying not to spook the other, Boba cupped Din’s cheek, watching how the others eyelids fluttered slightly at the touch. “…We could be pack,” Boba rumbled quietly, watching the others eyes focus on him again. “But regardless, right now, you’re hurting and I won’t leave you to hurt without doing something to sooth it, until you’re sound of mind.” He stated quietly.

Din simply stared at him before quietly hunching over and wrapping his arms around himself, shaking with silent tears.

Slowly, Boba encouraged the other down and into his den, let Din turn around towards the wall and curl up around one of the large pillows he had invested for his den.

Boba knew that the main bedroom of Slave 1 was a luxury for a ship and in that moment, he was grateful that he had invested in making a proper den in it as he let the omega cry, his potential packmate seeking comfort and safety of Boba’s nest.

He felt the ship vibrate, Fennec finally getting them out and away from the cruiser but didn’t move, remained kneeling by the bed as he instead settled his hand on Din’s head, stroking the man’s temple with his thumb. “That’s it… just let it out… just let it out.” Boba whispered quietly, sitting with the other as Din let himself cry for all the losses he had.

Nevarro.

The place where it all began.

Watching Cara step down the ramp to meet with Greef, Din blearily tilted his head to look around, taking in how little had changed since the last time he was there.

Sand and sun with the mid-morning heat making everyone lazy, that was all there was with a scattering of people that weren’t taking naps to avoid the worst of the sun.

He only half noticed Greef jerking to in surprise, could feel the beta’s eyes on him. Greef had after all known what Din was from the get go, he had been there when Din returned from a hunt, fresh from his presentation.

He had also been the one to give Din not only scent blockers but also suppressors.

Just long enough to keep Din stable, so he could get his own supply, gruffly stating that Din was one of his best hunters and he’d rather not have anything happen to him.

Concern hidden by his desire for value, not that Din back then had been able to see it, he had been too worried about Greef using the information somehow.

Now he knew that Greef Karga was a friend and in that moment, he had a need for friends.

His eyes landed on the statue of the IG-11, his heart jumping a bit.

Kuiil and it had been the first ones to sacrifice themselves for Grogu, the first ones who had died for him to protect him as far as Din knew.

But knowing how old Grogu was, there was a large chance that they had not been the first.

They were the first since Grogu became his ward.

The ward he had to give away, the foundling that had become…

His scent must have twisted, because suddenly Boba was there, pressing their arms together as he rumbled to him.

His maybe packmate.

Boba and Shand were going to Tatooine, they had only stopped in Nevarro to drop Cara off and resupply since this was a safer place than most to them.

Mostly thanks to Cara.

There wasn’t really much for him anymore, his covert was gone, his pack was scattered if they had survived, his ship was destroyed and even his kit was now in the hands of another because Din could not protect him from the remains of the Empire.

Going with Boba, leaving behind the memories of what was here on Nevarro despite knowing he had a place in Greef bounty hunter guild… well, it sounded like the better option.

Boba was angling to overthrow what was left of the hutt cartel on Tatooine, not that the hutts were that strong thanks to the Empire.

They hadn’t let the hutts keep a strong threshold on the galaxy.

Looking at it, it was almost like the Empire had been trying to wipe out most of the other species of the galaxy unless they had some kind of use, making humanity its core. Getting rid of those that were combative, like the mandalorians and lasats and then moving on to those it thought of as scum with no worth.

‘Not that I’ve ever meet a decent hutt in my life.’ Din mused tiredly, wondering if there were decent hutts in the galaxy.

Tatooine, with the tuskens, sounded like a far better option. Maybe he could visit White Bantha, the clan he had lived with for a while, Boba respected the tuskens as much as Din did and wouldn’t mind if Din wander- “Djarin!”

A loud, familiar voice called out, almost echoing between the buildings and Din’s heart leapt to his throat from the sheer shock of hearing it.

He looked around almost spastically, eyes wide behind his visor before his eyes landed on the all too recognizable blue armor.

Paz.

It was Paz, stepping out from between two white buildings, his gait rushed and his helmet locked on Din with such focus he could almost feel the intensity of the gaze behind the visor.

Alive, Paz was alive.

A sob unwittingly escaped Din at the sight, the sound garbled to static by the vocoder of his helmet as he stepped forward on shaking legs, feeling like a newborn colt.

Unnoticed by him, Boba, Shand, Cara and Greef had leveled their weapons at Paz, only to pause when Din called back. “Vizla!” Din called out, crashing into Paz large chest, feeling those thick arms coming up around him in a familiar embrace. “Paz, Paz he’s gone. He’s gone. I gave him away. Paz.” He sobbed out, his knees giving out from under him as he clung to the others cuirass.

Paz rumbled loudly, shifting his arms around Din to support him. “Din. Din you need to calm down. Udesii, udesii beroya.” The blue armored man finally just outright lifted him.

Another time, Din would have marveled at the display of strength, another time he would have flushed and maybe squirmed.

He wasn’t a light man after all, especially not in his armor.

But that was not now as he lifted his legs to wrap around the alpha’s waist, right now he was baring his soul to his alor and maybe someone who was more. Right now he needed Paz to be both comfort and judgment, even if the latter didn’t seem to be inclined to judge anything and Din didn’t seem to be able to explain himself well.

“My kit is gone.” Din admitted weakly what he hadn’t wanted to admit before.

That Grogu had become not only his foundling but his kit, his child in all but blood.

Blood of the covenant is stronger than water of the womb.

It was something he had heard his buir say once, holding Din tightly to his chest with his chin resting on Din’s curly head and now he understood what it had meant.

Paz stiffened, his arms going almost painfully tight around Din before he crooned, deep in his chest and so loudly it rattled Din’s helmet.

But it felt good to hear and Din pressed his audial to the others cuirass, breaking down into wordless but loud crying.

The kind of crying he had not allowed himself in Boba’s den but right now, in Paz arms…

He would let himself cry over Grogu, cry over the unfairness of the galaxy, cry over his own inability to keep his pup safe.

Cry for the covert.

And maybe, somewhere in those tears, he was crying for himself and everything he had lost as Paz held him together.

The other’s body feels so small under him.

Its not that Din really is small but compared to Paz, he has always been smaller and he’s making himself smaller in this moment as he’s quivering, legs twitching and his breathing hitched as he shudders through half stifled sobs into the sheets.

His adiik is gone.

When the Armorer had contacted Paz, given him Din trajectory, Paz hadn’t been sure what to think. After Nevarro, after being exposed, after Din had stolen the adiik and the covert exposing themselves so obviously, they all fled with only a smaller guard kept behind to ensure the Imperials wouldn’t find the others.

A suicide mission, the people who took it had known that the likelihood of surviving it was smaller than a porg’s asshole.

Ships, normally stashed away in hidden caves and unused areas, were used to flee into the stars, some taking the foundlings and others going alone, everyone leaving their own trail or extinguishing them depending on if they were leading the Imperial trackers after them or trying to hide the younglings.

After all, they’d rather have the remains of the Empire tracing after the lone warriors and not the foundlings. The Armorer had stayed, everyone knew she would have, to try and scavenge what remained and try to keep the beskar in their hands as best she could.

It had been months and in all those months, trying cautiously to make contact with other mandalorians without attracting attention and surviving, Paz had spent the months thinking about Din and the quiet moments in the alcove, with of Din’s shaking body tucked in his lap, the tired grumble through the vocoder and the tiny traces of scent Paz had caught in the moment.

Paz had thought about the moments later, the way the soured scent had turned even softer with the adiik in his arms, the way Din’s arms had been protectively wrapped around the foundling that night.

The way it had looked right.

And now that foundling was gone once more.

There was a reason, a reason even Paz could understand, but for an omega, that had bonded to their child, to give them up despite knowing it was for their own protection…

It hurt.

Din was hurting so much when Paz had finally managed to track the other down on Slave 1.

He had barely noticed when Fett and the others had leveled blasters his way when he had come tearing over Nevarro’s sand, hadn’t cared as he had called for the stumbling man standing in the sun.

Honestly, it was good Din had friends, friends willing to shoot a beskar covered infantryman.

He had needed someone, especially after the covert was destroyed and they had all fled to each their corner of the galaxy.

Maybe they would have shot Paz if Din hadn’t recognized and been conscious enough to call Paz name back, Fett visibly twitching at the name Vizla but holstering his blaster still, the group watching as Paz pulled Din into his arms and the omega just folded against his chest.

Paz hadn’t cared at the time how close he had gotten to being shot, just so relieved to see Din at all, he had found the remains of the Razor Crest and at the time he had thought…

He had thought…

Dune had explained, Din leaning exhaustively against Paz chest, hands holding weakly onto the cuirasse. Paz couldn’t blame him, after everything he had gone through, from his the adiik being abducted, the hunt for information, to Gideon to the Jedi coming, ensuring their survival.

Only to return empty handed in the end.

No adiik.

A wound cutting deep and hard.

Karga had set them up with a place, the beta was fond of Din apparently and had understood that Din needed space, the scent of distressed omega curling around everyone as Din had run out of scent blockers with the destruction of the Crest and Fett had none, the alpha needing none himself and Shand being a beta herself.

It was a decent space, one where Paz took care of Din, carefully removing all his armor except the helmet before removing his own armor, guiding Din into his side as they sat on the bed.

Without the armor, Din was even smaller, just like that time in the alcove and the longer he sat against Paz, the more his body shook until low, hitched noises escaped him.

Paz wasn’t the others alpha, not really for all that he wanted but he was a packmate, despite them not bonding as deep as they should.

And with his heart in his stomach, shattering at every hitched sound, he had taken a chance and gently pressed Din down on the bed, covering the other up with his own body.

Just hoping, hoping he was providing some comfort as he eased himself to cover up Din as best he could.

A physiological thing, Paz acting like a weighted blanket with pheromones as he tried to sooth and with the way Din had latched onto his kute, Paz knew that at the very least Din wanted him to stay.

But to listen to him sob under his helmet, pressing his own to the back of Din’s as he shook and twitched, it was breaking Paz soul and the alpha in him whined helplessly.

He wanted to help but could do nothing more but hold the other, crooning quietly as Din cried and cried and cried for a adiik he had given away.

Paz had never felt so useless and so helpless as in this moment.

Brushing his hand along Din’s side, as if gentling an animal, Paz crooned deeply. “I’m here Din. I’m here.” He whispered.

It was the only thing he could offer the omega, he couldn’t offer that things would be alright, he couldn’t offer to get the kid, he couldn’t offer anything but himself. But Manda, if it helped, then that was what he’d give.

All of himself.

He might have imagined it, but Din’s noises seemed to have grown slightly quieter as Din tucked himself even more under Paz body, his shaking not as severe.

Maybe he wasn’t as useless as he feared.

Drawing his hand gently over Din’s chest, Paz pressed his palm to the warmth, listening quietly as he felt the steady beat of Din’s heart and his slow breathing.

Asleep.

Fully and deeply asleep, an exhausted sleep from his emotional overturn the night before.

Still, despite being reassured by how asleep Din was, Paz very slowly and very gingerly pulled away from the omega. He was terrified of waking the exhausted man, Din needed to sleep, even without seeing the others face, Paz had noticed the exhaustion in the slump of the others shoulders and body the day before.

Thankfully, Din barely reacted to Paz pulling away, only going as far as muttering softly and curling into the warm spot the alpha left behind, snuffling softly.

It made Paz heart ache a bit as he watched the other, wishing he could see the others face, stroke his hair, give him everything the other deserved.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Paz quietly moved to the fresher to do his business and then made his way out of the house. He wanted to find some decent breakfast for Din before he woke, something warm would be nice.

He knew that Din liked spicy things but he wasn’t sure that eating spicy things in the morning, especially after the breakdown Din had last night and the last couple of days of emotional turmoil would be so good.

Din needed something nourishing, filling but not too powerful in case his appetite had declined. ‘Eggs would be good, not sure I can get him to eat meat though, so no sausage… maybe an omelet and some warm bread rolls?’ Paz mused as he stepped out, not bothering putting on his armor or bringing his blaster canon for a quick food run, as naked as that made him feel.

He did bring his blaster and viroblade though as he stepped into the grey morning light of Nevarro, the temperature making his skin break out in goosebumps as it was fairly cold right before the sun rose fully.

Paz was fairly grateful that he took at least some weapons with him as the moment the door closed behind him, he heard the telltale click of a blaster safety being removed to his side, a blaster pressing into his side.

If someone was angling for a fight, Paz would give them it.

Paz tilted his head to look, pausing slightly when he looked at Boba Fett through his visor as the clone of Jango Fett stared back at him.

No, not just clone.

Son.

Paz, despite his buir grumbling about Jango Fett in his youth, knew enough to recognize that Boba Fett had been a son and not just a clone, fodder for the old Republic’s army.

Unaltered and pure, an alpha.

One that currently was holding a blaster to Paz side and if Paz wasn’t wrong, the sniper was on top of the roof, rifle likely angled down at him.

So, he kept still if tense, simply stared at Fett, recognizing that this was Din’s friend.

With both the sniper and the knowledge that this person was someone Din trusted, who was willing to protect him, Paz would give him the benefit of doubt, despite the blaster pressed into his side.

For a long minute, neither of them said anything in the grey light of Nevarro’s rising sun.

Then Fett spoke. “If you hurt him, I will feed you to the same sarlaac I once ended up in with your hamstrings slit, you will wish I killed you by the time its done with you. Do you understand me?” He growled faintly, his vocoder making the sound even more menacing than a normal alpha growl.

Paz cocked his head slightly, fighting the urge to growl back before nodding. “If I hurt him, I’d do the deed myself. He’s hurt enough.” He agreed quietly, holding his ground as Fett continued staring at him, could feel the other alpha’s narrowed eyes behind the green buy’ce as sweat started to bead on the back of Paz neck.

Finally, Fett grunted and tucked his blaster onto his belt, nodding slightly. “I wager he’s still asleep?” The man questioned.

Paz nodded. “There’s only water and some bland rations in the house, I wanted to find something better for him to eat. And return before he wakes up alone, he’s rather deeply asleep but I still want to hurry.” The statement was meet with an approving grunt before Fett nodded his head and started walking.

Taking the hint, Paz followed the other, noting the dark shape jumping down from the roofs and wandering of.

He had been right, the sniper had been on the roof as he suspected.

Fett lead him to his ship in the docking bay, up the ramp and into the cargo hold, the man digging around in a crate as Paz looked around, throwing a sealed pouch at him, Paz automatically catching it and tilting it to read. “…Cassius tea?” He rumbled quietly.

“Din deserves comfort food, cassius tea is also good for health,” Fett stated absently before moving to another crate. Honestly, Paz was more shocked that the bounty hunter had proper mandalorian tea if he was honest, even as he caught the next bag Fett threw at him. “Mealgrains with dried varos fruit. Its going to be enough to get him going at least, especially if you’re considering getting some eggs?” Paz could hear the silent question in those words and nodded quietly.

His nod was meet with another approving grunt. “Do you know where I could source some egg? Or any food?” He questioned.

He had been thinking of asking Karga, he seemed fond of Din and important in town. If Paz remembered right, the man had run or still ran the bounty hunter guild. “Dune, she’s the marshal in town and she was part of the rescue team, I imagine she’d be happy to help for the verd’ika’s sake.” Fett rumbled.

Pausing slightly, Paz furrowed his brows. “…Dune…” He questioned slowly, he had to admit, he had been more focused on Din. “That’s the one with the muscled arms, right?” Paz was sure that was the name of the woman he had spoken with last night.

Thankfully, Fett nodded, Paz letting out a relieved noise that he remembered right.

‘Just stay asleep a little bit longer Din, there be some decent grubb for you when you wake up.’ Paz promised mentally, turning and heading down the ramp to find the marshal office, hoping Dune was already awake.

Din exists.

Its the easiest way to explain his current behavior, not that anyone expected better. Hell, Paz had honestly worried it be a lot worse, dam’s that lost their kits, willingly or not, would often enter depressive episodes.

The fact that Din slept, woke up, used the fresher and ate without too much prompting was something he would not take for granted, even as he often found himself holding the others hand or tucking the omega into his own bulk to provide whatever comfort he could give.

A lot of omegas lost interest in life at the loss of a child, their packs often becoming more caretakers than family during the time it took for the person to heal.

If they healed.

Paz didn’t allow his mind to linger on that thought, Din had always been strong and Paz couldn’t let himself believe that Din strength would fail him now. That he would fade away from life.

It hurt to think.

Which was why Paz focus was on Din and Din alone.

Slave 1 wasn’t a spacious ship with four people on, Fett of course having his own quarters and Shand what went for a ‘guest’ quarters. Thankfully, recognizing the need, Fett had also arranged for a room Paz suspected had once been a weapon room for the two mandalorians, giving them privacy.

Not that he seemed to like leaving Din alone with Paz in his current situation but it was clear by the way Din clung to the alpha that he needed Paz.

So he and Din shared bunk and sheets, the two wrapped up in each other.

Mostly, Paz slept with Din covered up under his bulk, his helm pressed to the others back or his chin touching the back of Din’s helmet. Sometimes however, Din opted to curl up on Paz chest, pressing his head to Paz collarbone.

The sensation of another person, not in armor, was a luxury and Paz wasn’t quite sure what to feel about getting it on a ship that did not belong to the covert.

But, seeing as Boba and Din were starting to smell of each other, of the foundation of a pack, he didn’t complain.

Especially not when Fett had given them a door that could lock.

Currently, they were on their way to Tatooine, something about settling old scores according to the scarred alpha, a feral look in his eyes as he mentioned someone called Jabba’s palace.

The planet and person’s name had roused Din slightly, his hand tightening on Paz as he quietly murmured that he had a few jobs there.

If asked, Paz would say he was grateful he had never meet this Jabba character from what Shand and Fett filled him in on.

But…

A palace, overthrowing the ones that had it, taking over a cartel…

Paz had to admit, it was a good idea, it would certainly be a distraction for Din. Because for all that he simply existed instead of lived, Din could still fight as their sparring in the cargo hold some days proved.

Work out a bit of rage, maybe some sadness and maybe Din would finally start talking again.

Din tried but…

Paz understood.

He really did, it was why he simply held onto Din’s hand during the day or wrapped his arm around the others waist and during the night, wrapped himself around Din’s body.

Like tonight, laying on the bed in one of those few days Din decided to curl up on Paz chest.

Absently stroking the others warm back, staring at the dark ceiling without a thought in his head, Paz almost jumped when Din suddenly spoke.

“I took my helmet off.” He whispered.

Paz pressed his hand to Din’s spine, his mind taking in the words before he directed his arms to wrap slowly around Din’s tense body, the large shirt the beroya was borrowing for sleep shifting under his touch. “Our way is not the Only Way.” He stated slowly, uncertainly. It had been one of the stranger things he had been required to accept when he got out of the covert, meeting other mandalorians and he was already aware that Din had removed his helmet.

Dune had informed him, both on a planet called Morak and on the moff’s ship and why Din had removed his helmet.

So far, none of the other mandalorians he had meet followed the same Way as their covert did and Paz wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, what it said about not only their alor but also their Armorer, for teaching the Way as they did.

If there were other interpretations, that meant there were other ways to live, easier ways.

Not that Paz was sure about them, the way he had been raised fighting against the new things he had seen.

Paz felt Din nod into his collarbone. “Meet some of them… Boba says he’s not mandalorian but… by birth he is…” He trailed off.

Sighing softly, hugging Din tightly, Paz rumbled softly. “If you expect me to judge you verd’ika, that is not my place. Not when I’m so lost myself.” He stated softly, feeling Din body go even tenser and then lax against his chest.

Nuzzling their heads together in a light mirshmure'cya, Paz thought it over as Din played with the lose opening of Paz shirt.

“If you want to know what I think about you removing your helmet however,” Din went ramrod stiff in his arms, even as Paz started rubbing his back slowly in their dark, makeshift room. “I would tell you that foundlings are the future, it is for them we sacrifice. So in my eyes… you are our beroya, more honorable than most can imagine, worth your weight in beskar.” He rumbled reverently as he continued slowly rubbing.

He felt Din hold his breath, saw him through the dim view of his helmet that the omega lifted his head so their visors meet.

For a long moment they simply stared at each other, Din waiting on Paz to tell him he was lying and Paz simply waiting on Din to accept what he had said.

Finally, Din let out a tired, but relieved little sob and flopped back down, pressing his body warm helmet to Paz shoulder.

Din had been crying more this last week than Paz imagined he ever had before, but this was a different sort of crying than the heartbroken one.

This was the cries of someone that had found balm for their heart, for something that had been weighing on their mind.

“Gar cuyir oyayc, Ni cuy' olar. Ni’ cuy’ olar.” Paz rumbled, hoping that tomorrow would bring Din more succor for his soul and troubled mind.

According to Fett, the former Hutt palace was a skughole but…

Honestly, as Paz got to enjoy a water shower on a timer, he had to say that ever since they had to flee Mandalore, he hadn’t been in a more luxurious place than he was that moment.

Maybe Din had, Din was their beroya, he traveled the galaxy but from what he had learned from Din, he often opted to stay in his ship, the destroyed Razor Crest he used to have.

This palace, now Fett Palace despite the alpha’s strained hold on it for now, had actual food to feed an army, could have fed the entire Covert for at least a week or two. It had water for days, fresh, clean water, enough to take literal water showers and on a planet like Tatooine, that was a luxury few could afford.

Paz had seen the water vapors behind the palace of course, he imagined that most of the water for the shower came from those. He had heard one of the working people Fett had hired in say that the water that collected in those vapors weren’t good for drinking.

Something about the positions of the vapors and a mist?

Chemicals in the ground?

But it was fine for showering and if you cooked it first, boiled it safe, you could still drink it and use it for food prep.

Fett however seemed content to use it for showering.

Fennec had told Paz that his and Din’s room were actually one of the few with the connection to the water line. It wasn’t for everyone and it made Paz once more grateful to the alpha for providing such a luxury.

Din… needed it.

Taking a shower in your helmet was never fun with a sonic, it tended to leave you rattled and Paz had managed to gently coax the other into the shower after a day when the funk of his kute started to layer.

Not something he was used to from the beroya, the covert as a people used to wearing armor all the time were hygienic by necessity, no one wanted to smell like a hutt on a warm day after all. But with the lack of his child, Din…

Well, he ate, he drank, sparred with either him, Fennec or Fett with a tad of coaxing and he moved on his own, Paz wasn’t going to ask for miracles.

Helping the other shower hadn’t been bad either.

They both kept on their helmet and shorts, both of them a tad awkward over the nudity despite Paz desire to court the other. But with the shorts on, it was easier, carefully washing Din’s back, arms, chest and legs.

The only strange time had been when Paz lingered on the others scent and bonding glands, Din turning still beneath his touch as Paz fingertips stroked slowly over the warm, slightly swollen areas.

Paz had wondered then, if he took of his helmet, would Din have too?

But the moment had passed and Paz had quietly pulled back, telling Din that he was stepping out so Din could wash his hair on his own.

Having removed his helmet for his child, well, as Paz said, the foundlings were the future. To remove it now…

Din would have to figure out his own balance, his own stride and path.

Just like Paz was doing.

The Covert, their covert, was no more, they had to start anew and coming out into the world, Paz had learned there were more options, more ways of being a mandalorian. Ways that seemed… not easier but maybe more fulfilling?

It would certainly make touch starvation easier to handle he mused to himself as he tipped his head up to rinse the soap out of his hair, hearing the beep of his timer. That meant there was five minutes left of water.

Best rinse everything, so he didn’t have to take a sonic too.

Mentally sighing, Paz worked swiftly, rinsing out all soap from skin and hair, rubbing at his curling hair.

Then he paused, the tight curls of his hair around his fingers, the image of Din sitting on the bed, Paz in front of him on the floor, letting Din braid his hair. The image made his mouth dry, staring thoughtlessly at the shower tiles as the water continued spraying down on him.

It was a… domestic thought and image and Paz could swear he could almost feel Din’s hands in his hair, the omega’s slender hands would be good for braiding, he’d seen the other do it for some of the younglings of the covert sometimes.

Gentle fingers, low humming of a battle song, Paz leaning back into the touch he could almost feel despite being in the shower, the scene so real in his head.

Paz let his eyes close, savoring the mental image even as his mind didn’t provide Din a face.

He knew enough to know that Din’s skin was a beautiful and natural tan from his hands and that he had rich brown hair that was at least long enough to curl around his ears, the hairs left om the hairbrush giving him that info.

The details of the other’s face was left vague, but his voice, the feel of gentle but skilled fingers, the touch of calluses from weapon training…

Watching closely as the room cleared out after being dismissed, Boba let out a tired breath and then pulled his helmet off, setting it on the arm Fennec normally sat on as he ran his hand over his sweaty scalp. “Karking assholes.” He grumbled quietly.

Fennec shot him a slight smirk and closed the door tightly behind her, ensuring privacy.

Dealing with the gangs on Tatooine was proving to be difficult, especially the hutt implants and the ones involved with slavery.

But Boba was also steadily building out his own group, a lot of old friends had come when they heard Boba had taken over and some new ones had joined him. Especially former slaves.

The former gladiator ones were really useful as guards.

Could be trusted too, as most of them were beyond grateful for Boba freeing them.

Most of them were alphas too, though a few of them had been castrated to make them more… manageable. Boba knew it was a practice slavers used but honestly, it was barbaric.

It was one of the reasons Boba had abolished slavery on Tatooine, even if it gained him more enemies.

There was a small thump against his knee, bringing Boba out of his thoughts and he let out a soft noise as he took in Din sitting on the dais, his head resting against Boba’s knee. “Hey… you okay?” He rumbled, reaching out to gently run his thumb under the helmet and kute, feeling sweaty skin.

Din’s pulse was steady and he nodded but his skin was very sweaty.

‘Just tired potentially.’ Boba shifted and reached down, pulling the other up and into his lap, listening at the scrapes of beskar against beskar. “Its alright vod’ika. You can relax, everyone’s been shown out.” Boba rumbled at the omega.

Din shifted a bit then slowly reached up and pulled his helmet off, settling it in his lap as he pressed his face to Boba’s neck, huffing in his scent.

Din had been doing that more often lately, taking comfort in Boba’s scent as they built their packbond.

It was… nice.

Pleasing in a way Boba would claim, to be needed and trusted by Din after everything the other had gone through. Soothed some long abandoned instinct in Boba.

The fact that he took his helmet off in front of Boba was also an honor.

The unique way Din and Paz covert followed the resol’nare wasn’t something Boba had ever encountered from any other mandalorian he had meet, it certainly did not fit with the one his father had tried to teach him.

Boba would almost call it a cult but that wasn’t quite right either, regardless what Kryze had called it to Din. A cult was generally something lead by a charismatic leader and from what Din and Paz had admitted, there was no clear leader.

Just a Goran that ensured supplies were distributed and armor created.

Technically though, a cult could also be defined by adhering to an ideology admittedly, but if that was the base for it, then all mandalorians were cults. The only thing that differed Din and Paz from others were the fact that they were not to remove their helmets.

That could have been a warped safety precaution that had become tradition if Boba thought about it.

Regardless, there were no prayers, sacrifices, offerings outside of supplying the covert, competitions or anything like that. It wasn’t a cult by the true definitions of it, just survival of a group of people that were being slaughtered by the Empire.

Regardless, things were different now, both Din and Paz were struggling to make their own lives now as no survivors had yet to find them.

Going by what Din had found when he returned to Nevarro…

Well, neither expected survivors if they were honest and it broke Boba’s heart to see Din so sad and guilty for what he had brought to their covert. Paz had quickly disabused him of that notion, the covert had chosen to reveal themselves, Din had not asked. But emotions were a tricky thing and Boba knew that.

Nuzzling slowly at his vod’ika, Boba purred softly for him. “It will be alright. You’re here and I’m here and Paz is here, we’ll help you.” He promised softly as Din pressed into his throat.

It was one of the reasons he hadn’t thrown the alpha on his ass.

He was good for Din, their heartbroken Din.

‘The moment he fucks up, I’m fucking him up.’ Boba nosed gently at Din’s curly hair, noting how long it was getting.

Din didn’t answer, simply pressed himself into Boba’s broader if shorter frame.

‘Just give him time… we have all the time in the world for this.’ Boba pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

Now, Din wasn’t oblivious, not really.

Honestly, he’d have to be nose blind to not smell Paz interest in him, curled up in Paz den and cuddled into him as he often is. Not even the filters of his helmet would have been able to remove all the scent when their out of their kute and armor and only in sleep clothes and helmets.

He just…

Well, he hadn’t had the energy to deal with it, the loss in his soul for his pup making him ache and feel listless in ways he couldn’t explain.

But the days passed, with Boba, Paz and Fennec hovering around him, providing each their own comfort and care. Sometimes, Cobb called from Mos Pelgo, having a friendly chat and promising to visit when he could. Cara had done the same with Greef voice echoing in the back but it was further away for them than for Cobb.

Apparently, after the deal with the tuskens were struck, the town was much safer as the tuskens and town’s people now worked together instead of working against each other. They had even initiated trade.

Cobb had quietly, with a sly smile, informed Din that they had managed to get a steady supply of black melons and the village had managed to filter the awful taste out of it.

Which was nice to hear, on a planet like this, any kind of fluid to hydrate was good, making it easier to swallow was a good idea though. Children might not swallow it if it tasted like it was in the source.

Shifting slightly, Din returned his mind back to Paz, feeling the others arms around his waist. They had been sharing the same bed since they arrived on Tatooine, unless Din stayed with Boba, his vode often comforting him.

Boba often made him feel small in those moments.

Not in a bad way though.

Small but protected, the same way his dad had done before in the village and his buir later on in the covert when they held him tight to their chest and stroked his back.

But most days, he stayed with Paz in his den.

Shifting slowly, Din turned around to look at the other’s helmet, flickering his eyes up and down, running his hand hesitantly up and down Paz dark brown upper arm. Then he ran his hand up to the others exposed neck, finding the others scent gland and bonding patch, fingertips a light touch. He was grateful the other had worn a low v necked shirt to bed last night.

Paz would be a good alpha.

Caring and warm, always there for their mate, be they beta, omega or even another alpha.

‘He wants me… do I want him?’ Din licked his lips then flushed as his mind opted that moment to remind him of all the times he thought of Paz after Nevarro. Okay, so that was a stupid question, even from an emotionally unstable and anxious man like Din was right now.

Could he be the kind of omega Paz wanted though…

Mandalorian omegas weren’t the same as core omeg-dank farrik.

Din wrinkled his nose, why was he even thinking about core omegas and standards?

His lips pulled into a snarl in silent disgust, both at the thought of core standards and at the idea that Paz would want anything to do with that. Paz admired warriors, mandalorian alphas wanted warriors, not pushovers that simply stayed barefoot and at home, always pregnant.

They wanted mates that fought at their side, wanted fierce mates that carried a child and protected both themselves and their child as ferociously as any alpha would. ‘That’s what Paz would want too… but I’m not that kind of omega, am I?’ Din slumped a tad.

He had given up his child so easily, despite being tasked with returning Grogu to his own kind, that still made him a bad omega.

Paz couldn’t possib- “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but stop it.” Paz sleep growling voice rolled through his vocoder, Din jerking his hand away guiltily as the arms tightened around his waist.

“I-” Din stammered a tad, squirming in the grip of the others arms.

“You smell miserable Din’ika,” Paz continued, gently tapping their heads together in a Keldable kiss. “I can make a guess what you’re thinking but believe me when I say that you’re a good omega. A good buir… I certainly think you’re good.” Paz voice eased with softness.

Swallowing thickly, Din struggled to open his mouth, find something to say.

Then he simply swallowed and sat up, Paz letting him go so he could, visor tilted to keep track of Din.

He went ramrod stiff when Din reached for his helmet, slowly pulling his helmet off. “Din…” He rasped, large hand settling on the bounty hunter’s thigh, voice conflicted and yet seemingly incapable of turning his head away.

Settling his helmet down in his lap, Din nervously looked to the alpha, stroking his helmet flattened hair out of his face, feeling the curl of it due to the length.

For a long minute, the two simply stared at each other, Din clinging to his helmet, visibly feeling Paz eyes flicker over his face despite the visor in the way.

Finally though, Paz sat up too, still staring. Then he slowly reached out and cupped Din’s cheek with a large, warm hand. “Mesh’la…” Paz whispered reverently, huffing out air when Din turned his head to kiss the others palm.

Watching nervously, Din held his breath as Paz reached up for his own helmet with his free hand, tucking those large, long fingers under the chin and pulling up.

Warm brown eyes looked back at him for the first time without a barrier, and Din knew that this, this was a moment he’d remember forever as Paz smiled at him, his face framed by tight curls along with the a goatee not unlike Cobb in the same black as Paz hair.

His nose was broad and slightly flat and his lips were large and dark to match his brown skin tone.

It suited him.

Paz was beautiful and Din let out a low noise, practically a quiet whine. “P-Paz.” He stammered again, unsure what he was asking for.

Paz however seemed to know, his eyes softening even more somehow before the alpha leaned in and pressed their foreheads together.  “Mesh’la.” He simply repeated, warm thumb stroking delicately under Din’s eye.

‘…I was right. He is a good alpha.’ Din let himself fall apart, slumping against Paz as the other held him, their helmets resting in their laps as for the first time since he gave up Grogu, Din finally started to feel warmth in his soul once more.

Setting the glass down in front of the other, biting the inside of his cheek so not to laugh at the sight of the silly straw in it while making a note to give the bartender a raise, Boba sat down with his own drink and a deep sigh. “So, you’d say he’s doing better?” He questioned quietly.

His eyes were locked on Paz as the mando reached down and picked up the glass of booze, sticking the straw under his helmet to take a sip. And to buy himself some time to think likely about his answer.

“That is… subjective I’d say.” Paz finally answered, leaning back in the booth.

Seeing as he wanted to have a private conversation with Paz, Boba had opted to find the other and settle into a talk in the usual alcove the big blue warrior had taken as ‘his’ spot in the throne room, everyone recognizing that this was pack talk and therefore staying away.

Or well, most of them.

There were a few nosy ones that had to be sent away with pointed blasters on the table and the two alphas visors locked on them.

Honestly, Boba really liked the spot Paz had claimed as his own. It was near an opening in the building, so any smoke wasn’t caught in the alcove and instead disappeared out, leaving it a tad fresher than some of the other places.

The couch of the alcove was also damn comfortable and Din had provided this particular alcove with lots and lots of pillows when he recognized it as Paz place.

“Subjective…” Boba repeated, taking a big gulp of his whiskey, savoring the burn down his throat. If nothing else, the core idiots knew how to make decent booze.

Paz sighed deeply and set his glass down, the pink straw clicking slightly as it curves bumped into it. He settled his elbows on his thighs and pressed his hands together between knees as he leaned slightly forward. “He’s healing, so physically, he is good. Eating for sure, taking care of himself, sparring. Don’t need us to prompt him to do it and he comes willingly for skinship thankfully but,” Paz paused, mulling over it, maybe how to put it into words. “…But he’s struggling still mentally and I wouldn’t strictly call him happy as much as just existing.” Paz finally settled on with a deep sigh.

Boba paused before nodding slowly.

So, Paz had taken note of the same thing as him then. “…He laughing around you?” He questioned lowly, sighing deeply too when Paz shook his head.

“Some weak smiles but laughing, no. He’s struggling emotionally and mentally I would bet. The loss of a pup has always been particularly bad for a dam and Din…” Paz cut himself of, grunting slightly as he shifted in discomfort.

Boba narrowed his eyes at him, slowly setting his glass down.

“…Look, things are hard for entire coverts and we had to be careful,” Paz murmured. “Din was our only beroya. It meant he was often out for weeks if not months and his buir has been dead for good over ten years, he died with Din on a mission, so Din hadn’t really… it made it difficult for him to…” He struggled but Boba already got it.

“Are you telling me that the foundling, his pup was the first proper pack connection Din had?” Boba rasped, groaning deeply when Paz nodded.

Karking hell, no wonder it had impacted Din so hard. So not only given up his adopted pup but also his first deep and proper pack connection in years. Clearly, Paz had been trying to connect at some point, else Din wouldn’t have reacted to him as he did when he found him but Din’s primary pack connection had been gone at that time.

It put a lot of things into context for Boba, having done the same thing himself but he was an alpha and he hadn’t given up a damn pup at the same time. “…I’m gonna hunt down Skywalker,” He finally grunted out, watching Paz jerk to a bit. “This can’t go on. Din needs more than just we can provide. We’re his pack, we’re bonding but its clear that giving up his pup is doing a havoc on his mental and emotional state.” He growled out quietly.

Some alphas could take that as an offense, the idea of not being able to provide for their omega, the heart of their clans and packs as without one, there wasn’t a true pack.

Some alphas would take up the challenge to just knock the omega up, as if replacing one pup with another somehow soothed it all.

Thankfully, Paz was not like that as all he did was nod. “He needs his pup.” He agreed easily.

Too easily almost.

So, Paz had thought the same too then but didn’t have the resources or know how to find Skywalker then potentially. Well, seeing as Boba wasn’t the pack head, Paz not coming to him about it wasn’t too shocking…

He and Paz were still working out their relationship in the scale of this pack, one being the mate of the omega and the other being the brother so to speak.

“Do you think Din has what it takes to be the heart of the pack?” Boba decided to change the subject, picking up his drink.

“Omegas are always hearts of the pack,” Paz returned with strongly before hesitating. “…He needs to settle in, heal fully. Seeing his pup again, holding him, that might help him flourish. So he can hold onto the position as heart of a pack.” He muttered.

Boba hummed but nodded.

Din wasn’t at his best right now, still strong, but strong walls could fall without proper attending. ‘Guess I better get to work on my information guild, Skywalker is bound to be hiding somewhere with the rest of the Jedi… but Organa is on Coruscant…’ Boba paused, glass at his lips.

Now, there was a chance to get a message that way.

Tucking Din’s leg, which had fallen out at some point back under their blanket, Paz reached out and stroked the others hair out of his face, observing the worn lines on his face.

But, well, at least Din was sleeping peacefully.

That bought a smile to Paz lips and he couldn’t resist leaning in to gently press a soft kiss to the apple of Din’s tanned cheek, feeling the scratch of stubble beneath his lips.

He wanted to linger in that moment, the softness, the sight of Din peacefully resting but Boba had called and therefore Paz straightened and put his helmet on, leaving his bond promised behind in their den to meet up with the other alpha.

Hopefully it meant good news, though it had been weeks since the two decided to try to find the Jedi.

Quietly, Paz closed the door behind himself, nodding to a passing guard in the slightly cool hall and made his way down the hall towards the throne room. Since Boba had added him to the scanner, Paz knew it would let him in as Boba also expected him and seeing as it was night time and only trusted people were left in the palace, Paz only worn his helmet, worn out thin sleep pants and a t-shirt that was frankly a tad too small.

Paz made a concentrated effort not to stretch in the thing, flushing a bit when a beta guard in the throne room suddenly perked up with interest, her eyes obviously tracing over the taut material and the bulk of his arms. She kept watching him closely as he crossed to the back of the throne to enter the King’s quarters and he could feel her eyes on him until the door closed behind him.

If Din had seen it, he would have gotten grumpy for sure, no one in the palace was ignorant that Paz and Din were bond promised after all.

Admittedly, it was a tad flattering to get the attention Paz had to admit, in the privacy of his own head. But there was only one person for him and that was Din, no one else measured up to the mighty beroya of the covert.

That he had managed to catch Din’s attention and keep it was not something he was willing to risk.

“Paz, there you are, I was wo-what the hell are you wearing?” Boba paused mid sentence, blinking bemusedly up at Paz from his position on the wing of the L shaped couch, his armor on its stand with Boba dressed in one of his black robes.

“My sleep wear?” Paz returned, equally bemused as he padded over and sat down near the other alpha. “I mean, I was in bed when you called. I’m honestly shocked it didn’t wake Din.” He shrugged a tad.

Boba eyed the hot pink if slightly faded t-shirt Paz was wearing that was clearly a size too small before letting out an amused snort with a head shake. “Well, I… anyhow, I found a lead on Skywalker, though I’m not sure its a valid one. I also sent a message to Organa that I want to speak with her brother.” He explained, looking down at the pad on his lap.

Leaning a bit forward to peer at it, Paz squinted a bit at the tiny letters on the tablet before shaking his head and looking back at Boba’s face. “A lead?” He questioned hopefully, settling a bit against the back of the couch.

Boba glanced at him, snorting at the sight of the t-shirt riding up on his stomach before he scrolled through his pad and brought up a map that he showed Paz.

Squinting at it, Paz let out a noise as he saw a tracked route leading from Coruscant to somewhere out along Outer Rims and he looked to Boba in confusion.

The man tapped his nail on the pad. “This? This is a shipping line from Organa to somewhere else. Medical supplies, freeze dried food along with long storage food, different fabrics, some motor parts for ships and speeders and sometimes other things are on the shipment list. I suspect she’s shipping supplies to her brother and his temple.” He explained to the mandalorian.

A noise of understanding escaped Paz. “That makes sense, I mean, they can’t make everything on one planet, wouldn’t have the resources to do that… could I take a look at the shipment lists?” He questioned.

Scrolling through the pad and bringing up the lists, Boba handed the pad to Paz to look through. “Organa might be willing to give us information or at least send Skywalker a message, if she decides to talk to me. If nothing less, her getting one to her golden brother would at least alert Skywalker to Din’s difficulties.” Boba murmured quietly as Paz read.

“Mmmn, hopefully. I don’t know much about this Skywalker but to take a adiik from an already injured omega…” Paz shook his head, grimacing.

He only looked away from the pad when the other let out a deep sigh. “Look, I’m not gonna defend Skywalker but… he’s not a bad person. Not really. I don’t really get what was going through his or Din’s head back on that cruiser but… there’s more to the story than what we get at least and if he knew the effect it would have on Din, I don’t think he would have done it.” Boba rubbed at his scarred face slowly and tiredly.

After weeks of a despondent Din, Paz wasn’t feeling quite so charitable however and only let out a vague noise of understanding, turning his attention back to the lists. As he did, he started to see a common denominator. “…There’s no fruit on this list.” He said slowly.

He felt Boba shift closer, but continued scrolling, flickering his eyes quickly over the letters.

“No vegetables either.” Paz mumbled, eyes widening with slight realization just as Boba let out a deep hum.

“They’re somewhere green. Green and fertile.” Boba stated with conviction, conviction Paz shared as excitement started to bubble in his chest.

Somewhere green and fertile in the outer rims that they could grow fresh produce.

‘Hold on adi’ika, soon your buir will see you again.’