Work Text:
There were many things worse than being stranded on an ice planet, though you couldn’t come up with anything at the moment. You could hardly think in the frigid cold that seeped into your bones, through the thin cape you wore fastened around your neck and the many blankets layered on top of you. Your last bounty mission had badly wounded the ship; thrusters had just begun failing once you and Mando had landed on this godforsaken planet, the auto-nav had been disabled, and, worst of all, the circuits of the temperature regulator had been shot dead.
It was the perfect recipe for a shitty situation.
Mando had wandered off the ship into the barren, white wilderness to look for a village a while back. His thick beskar armor wasn’t enough to protect him from the wind chill, so the warrior had taken the only thick jacket on the ship, promising he would be back soon.
Yeah, right.
You’d been waiting on him for hours. The Child was snoring away in his pod, seemingly unaffected by the harsh climate, but you were freezing, even from inside the ship and protected from the elements. At this rate, you’d be a popsicle before Mando got back.
Your relationship with the guarded Mandalorian was complicated. The two of you had met when he’d landed on your planet for a bounty and instead had left with you. In exchange for some supplies and a hostel he had needed you’d begged to join him on his ship. You’d always dreamed about flying through the stars, but never had the means nor the credits to do it.
By the mercy of the Maker, he’d allowed you on. That had been a year ago. Since then, you’d helped him capture numerous bounties and stitch up endless wounds. Often, the two of you didn’t speak. Body language was what Mando was fluent in and he showed he was grateful for your presence in small moments--a touch on the shoulder, a long look. His sincerity always set your body humming with infatuation. It was impossible to not be attracted to the Mandalorian. He was an elite fighter, a kind partner, and a stand-up guy. Plus, the way he interacted with the Child was enough to make the most frigid heart melt.
You knew you could never act on how you felt, or else you'd be inevitably booted off Mando’s ship when the attraction wasn’t returned. It wasn’t Mando’s way to find romance in the small things. He was practically a robot when it came to attraction and there was no sign that he’d be abandoning the Mandalorian path for a girl like you.
Maker. It was enough to make you feel a little down.
Swept up in the long consideration of your thoughts, you found your eyes getting heavy. You tried to get comfortable on the cot you reclined across (on the opposite side of the ship from Mando--simultaneously too far and too close for comfort). You’d make the best of the little warmth you had for now and nap until Mando came back. Who knew how long that would be.
In your sleep, you didn’t hear the beskar warrior return to the Razor Crest. He’d walked far to find any inhabitants of this cursed planet, and had been in luck. They’d supplied him with a few of the materials he’d needed--namely, something to keep warm. He’d start repairs tomorrow, but right now he was exhausted and admittedly a bit anxious to get back to you and the Child. He’d been gone for way too long, in his opinion.
When he’d returned he’d listened for the signs of you within the ship--clumsy clattering on the metal floors, the rasp of cloth-on-blaster, your soft voice conversing with the Child. To be met with empty silence set Mando on edge. Setting down the thick coat he’d purchased from the village, as well as a pile of scrap metal and circuitry, Mando traversed the narrow interior of the ship. When he saw you, bundled up to the nose in every blanket his ship possessed, his heart ached.
It didn’t feel like a secret that Mando was completely and hopelessly in love with you. From the moment you had first boarded the Razor Crest, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Mando had pined. When you smiled, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. When you laughed, Mando had to resist betraying his religion to kiss you. The small moments you felt he never noticed were the ones he thought the most about. Gods, he was hopelessly gone for you and you never even realized. And never would realize, he hoped. You deserved better than him. You deserved a man who wasn’t swept up in the risk and violence of his job, someone who could take their stupid helmet off.
Yes, he was gone for you. And seeing your red nose peeking from beneath the blankets wasn’t helping his situation at all.
Mando crouched, removing his gloves and helmet. His cheeks were flushed from the long walk to and from the village and his fingertips tingled with warmth. He allowed himself a moment of trailing them over your cheek, down the bridge of your nose, exploring the minute details of your relaxed face. Seeing it slackened with the peace of sleep was as captivating as seeing it wild with laughter. Standing, Mando turned to go. His head was foggy with you and he needed to clear it. A weak hand latched to his before he could leave.
“Mando…?” You mumbled, burying your face into the curve of the pillow.
You were only half-awake, Mando noted with relief. You didn’t seem to know you were even grabbing him but the instinct of the action made him giddy. He tried to delicately remove your hand, but you had a stronger hold than he had realized and Mando resolved to the fact that he wasn’t going to escape without waking you. Which, by looking at your scrunched nose and pouted lips, seemed almost criminal. Reaching up to the latches of his armor, Mando let the beskar fall to the floor to join his helmet. He would just lay with you a bit until you relinquish your hold and he could leave. Besides, you were shivering beneath the thin blanket, the cold far too intruding.
“Only for a second,” Mando whispered to himself, trying to steel his resolve.
The bounty hunter’s soft fingers fell into the curve of your waist. His nose brushed the back of your neck, smelling the scent of your shampoo, feeling the intimacy of the moment. Close enough to feel your warmth and hear your breath. It seemed that staying in the small cot with you for just a second would be a lot harder than he thought.
Just a second turned into just a minute, which turned to just an hour. And by that time, Mando had succumbed to the exhaustion of his journey and the comfort of your skin.
You awoke to soft light bleeding into your room from the small port-hole like window. You felt cozy and drowsy, tucked deep into the pillow beneath you. Your nose tingled with the cold, but your limbs feel heavy and warm. A weight across your hip pressed you into the bed and you furrowed deeper into its warmth. The rise and fall of the pillow beneath you was soothing and--
Your eyes flew open, meeting the face of the sleeping man in front of you. Dark lashes fluttered across tan cheeks, chocolate curls spilling across his forehead. Patches of unshaved grizzle were sprinkled across an angular jaw and it took your sluggish mind a second to process who this incredibly handsome man was and what his business was keeping you warm and comfortable in your cot. When everything clicked, it was like a bomb going off.
“Mando!” You cried, nearly flinging yourself to the ground in your haste to leave the bed.
Your hands flew to cover your eyes, the image of his face already ingrained in your memory. You stumbled to your feet, breathing hard, skin prickling from the sudden change in temperature. Startled shuffling came from the bed, then the languid (but perhaps also nervous?) laugh of Mando.
“You can open your eyes,” He assured you.
Warm hands found your wrist, pulling your hands from your face. Adamantly, you kept them closed.
“Mando, your path. The Way,” You insisted. “You...you can’t let me see--”
“It’s ok, sweetheart,” said Mando. “I...I want you to see me. For a long time I’ve felt something I know I shouldn’t feel but something I want to feel,” The warrior exhaled, thumbs circling the pulse point on your wrist. “You're my Way, now. I need to show you this side of me, need you to see...me,”
Your heart thrummed in your throat. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. This must be a dream. There was no way in the galaxy that the bounty hunter you’d been in love with for months was telling you that he felt the same. It had to be impossible. Your eyes opened slowly, nervously. Mando was bathed in pale winter light, hair messy from sleep and deep brown, beautiful eyes murky with anxiety. He wasn’t used to hiding his emotions, so they stood nakedly on his face.
“Mando-”
“Din,” He interrupted. “My name...It’s Din. Din Djarin,”
You licked your lips, tasting the name.
“Din…” You raised your hands to trace the sharp features of the bounty hunter in front of you. “Din Djarin,”
His name from your lips was like black velvet, luxurious and heady. Maker.
“Say it again,” Din whispered, pulling close and brushing his nose against yours.
Eyes coy, you breathed it out again, feeling a rush of wanton lust through your belly.
“Din Dj-”
Like a whip, hot lips were against yours, urging, nibbling, needing. You let out a noise of surprise before settling into the warmth of Mand--Din’s embrace. Your teeth clashed in the heat of the kiss, tongues insisting at each other's mouths. Your hands slid from his face to clutch at his broad, freckled shoulders, gripping the rough woolen cloth of his shirt. The kiss was messy and desperate, but as you fell into its easy rhythm, neither of you seemed to care. Porg feathers blew through your stomach, body tingling with charged energy. His mouth was delicious, insistent, and somehow better than you had ever imagined it could be.
Inevitably, the need for breath came. The two of you separated with a wet noise, lips tingling and swollen, hot from the kiss. Your hands still scrunched Din’s shirt and so you loosen your grip, flushing a bit. An easy smile tottered on Din’s lips, wrinkling the corners of his eyes. The cold of the ship didn’t seem so insistent and paralyzing when Din was here with you, broad hands against your hips, keeping you warm.