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Huh, this is actually going surprisingly well… Jaster raised his brows in cautious disbelief as he scanned over one of many data-pads stacked in a pile on his new and ridiculously shiny desk. After the near shit-show at Galidraan and the revelation of the true depth of that Shabuir Jinn’s transgressions, Jaster and the rest of the rest of the Haat’ade (Beroya included, finally ) had returned to the now thankfully vacant palace in Sundari. Kryze and his brood had finally been ejected from Mandalore and were currently on their way to the core worlds, taking their toxic beliefs of ‘pacifism’ with them, but leaving behind a mass of true Mandalorians behind. Now Jaster and his new second were overseeing the process of assimilating the conscientious objectors into Haat’ade society, which again, was going surprisingly well, especially with Din’s contagious bad luck.
Din…
A dopey grin involuntarily tugged at the corners of Jaster’s lips as he slumped forward over his cluttered desk, propping his chin up in his free hand as the memory of Din’s shy nibbling at Jaster’s Tingilaar, a warm flush dusting Jaster’s cheeks at the thought of Din’s bare, absolutely beautiful face and the trust that he had in Jaster and his haat’ade to bare it for them once again after Melida/Daan. Jaster’s hot flush increased in intensity as he thought back on Din’s sheer skill at handling Ade. Ade just seemed to gravitate towards the quiet Beroya with an almost unheard of level of trust. And the best part was that Din would let them…
Speaking of, isn’t he bringing Rhydor’s Ad’ika, Sonan’s lunch to the school because he forgot it again? Jaster snorted inwardly at the Ad’s cunning, seeing straight through Sonan’s forgetfulness. I swear, the Ade are making better progress at getting closer to him than I am… Jaster sat back in his chair with a self satisfied grin as the memory of Din reverently stroking his hands over a soft blanket that Jaster had gifted him for his Ad rose to surface. Though I think that we’re finally getting somewhere. The only issue is how to let him know that we are actually interested in him without scaring him off and incurring the wrath of his Alit…
Jaster let out an amused huff as he thought back on his and his commando’s efforts at courting their elusive Beroya. After the events on Melida/Daan and the mass adoption that followed, the vast majority of courting gifts were re-directed at the freed Ade, to both the Ade’s and Din’s delight. Though the gifts that Din had been presented with still to this day reduce the normally stoic, Mandokarla Beroya into an embarrassed, stuttering mess, much to his Aliit’s amusement and delight. Every time Din cautiously pulled off his bucket to give the Ade a small, but heart wrenching smile, Jaster’s heart danced in his chest at the sheer trust that the Beroya was showing them in revealing his face.
Though he and his Vod should never have had felt the need to hide it in the first place… The data-pad clenched in Jaster’s fist creaked under Jaster’s tightening grip as a swell of protective rage curled in his chest.
Taking a deep breath, Jaster forcefully dispelled his rising anger and went back to reading over his datapad. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he could go back to cooking more courting gifts for Din. The man was still dangerously underweight and it hurt Jaster’s soul to see how loosely his Kute hung off of his overly lithe form-
“Mand’alor!”
Jaster jolted as the door to his commandeered office slammed harshly against the wall, revealing Miles stood panting in the doorway.
“Mand’alor! We’ve just received word of a Death Watch attack in the city!” Miles gasped, leaning heavily against the doorway as he struggled to catch his breath.
Jaster’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach at Miles’ words, an icy cold feeling of dread chilling his veins before it was replaced a renewed swell of burning rage. But why would Death Watch have the courage to attack us now? After we’ve all but squashed them after Galidraan…? Everywhere in the city is chock full with Haat’ade after the Kryze and his brood left… “What?! Where is the attack? Why would they dare attack us when their forces are so depleted?” Jaster asked frantically, standing up so forcefully that his chair clattered to the floor behind him.
Jaster felt renewed dread gnaw at his stomach as Myles’ shoulder drew up around his ears. Even with the other Mandalorian’s helmet on, Jaster could sense the grimace twisting his face.
“The School, Manda’lor.”
Har’Chaak!
SWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSWSW
Why are they all still staring at me…?
Din clutched Sonan’s wrapped lunch tighter against his chest as the stares of the various Mandalorians roaming the streets of Sundari burned uncomfortably into the back of his neck. Din’s shoulders slowly climbed up around his ears as he increased his pace, gloved hands hugging his package to his chest.
Din thought that after the month that he and his Ori’vode had been Boba’s… Ba’Buir’s?- Jaster’s people, Din would have earned their trust at least a little. Din heaved a sigh as the few Mandalorians roaming the street turned their heads to track his movements intently.
I get it though… They’re probably still angry about me scaring the Ade on Concord Dawn. Not to mention, I couldn’t even take down a small faction of untrained humans on Melida/Daan without their help. Din scoffed at his own weakness. What sort of Beroya- hell, what sort of Mandalorian was he if he couldn’t even protect his own clan…? Din tensed at the muffled whispers that rose in his wake. Yeah, I deserve that… Din thought, even as a humiliated flush heated his cheeks.
But, Din forcefully straightened his hunching shoulders, straining under the weight of the mandalorans’ stares, These are Boba’s other Aliit’s people. I will prove myself worthy of the name Haat’Mando’Ad.
The thought of Boba’s other Aliit made the warm weight of Jaster’s Tingilaar sitting in Din’s stomach all the more apparent, bringing a completely different flush to Din’s cheeks as he thought of the way that Jaster’s eyes crinkled with mirth as he offered up the steaming bowl, a handsome smile on his weathered face.
Kriff! Keep it together Djarin! Din shook his head violently, making a few of the gathered Mando’ade jump as he clutched Sonan’s forgotten lunch tighter to his chest. Jaster is only being nice! Don’t take advantage of his kindness, you needy piece of shit. There’s no way that a man like that would ever want a failure like you. He’s only being nice to you since you’re Boba’s Aliit, and his people are only putting up with you and your weakness for the Ade from Melida/Daan’s sake…
Din’s sobering thoughts killed the pleasurable buzz in his veins from Jaster’s Tingilaar, leaving Din cold in the face of the truth.
After a few minutes of power walking, Din heaved a heavy sigh of relief as he turned a corner and was met with the squat building of the school, tension draining from his shoulders at the thought of meeting with the adorable Zabrak. Though the rate at which Sonan seemed to forget his lunch was suspicious, and Din knew for a fact that Rhydor packed Sonan’s lunch in his bag every morning, Din wasn’t complaining about the opportunity to speak with Rhydor’s adorable Ad.
Huh, and who knows, Sonan might be Boba and Paz’s Ad too soon enough with the way they’re circling each other, although… Din tilted his head silently to himself in thought, oblivious to the muffled gasps and coos rising from the various Haat’ade roaming the street. In the Covert, all romantic pairings must be approved by the Alor and his lieutenants. So who would they have to get approval from here before they can officially enter a relationship… Jaster?
The memory of Jaster shoving spoonfuls of nasty looking grey jelly into Jango and Arla’s mouths and laughing at their disgusted gagging rose to the front of Din’s mind, making him snort softly in amusement. No. There was no way that a man as kind as Jaster would enforce the same rules as- as the Alor. Din shivered as phantom pains fizzled down his back at the thought of the Alor, before clenching his fists tight, the sharp pain of his gloved fingers digging into his palms grounding him and chasing the phantom screams of pain away.
Din took a few deep breaths to forcefully calm himself down, fighting down the familiar rising panic in his chest. Once he was sure he was calm enough to be presentable around Ade, Din marched forward towards the gates of the school. Maybe a pinch to Sonan’s chubby yellow and black cheeks would cure Din of his lingering anxie-
BOOM
A sudden blast ripped through the air, a wave of pure force rippling through the air and flinging Din backwards off of his feet, flying through the air like a ragdoll before he caught himself and tucked his body inwards into a neat roll. As soon as Din had his feet under him, he flung himself behind the crumbled remains of the still smoking stone gates and cautiously took stock of the situation, wilfully ignoring the rising protective rage burning in his chest at the thought that he had to defend a school-
“For the true Mand’alor! For Death Watch!” Din’s head snapped to the left at the borderline hysterical shout, and was met with the sight of at least twenty fully armoured Death Watch operatives sprinting full tilt towards the destroyed gates of the school.
Kriff! Din reached his hand down to his thigh holster and drew his blaster pistol faster than he could blink and began to shoot at the front runners of the group, ignoring the plaintive pleas of the blood-thirsty Darksaber at his waist.
No. I’m not taking you out to fight. There’s too many of them, and I’m not good enough with you yet to deflect that many blaster bolts.
The Darksaber changed it’s tone, offering to temporarily take possession of Din’s body as it had on Melida/Daan-
No. I’m not doing that again. I’m still mad at you for not explaining that before you actually did it.
The Darksaber gave a few last petulant hums before it grudgingly fell silent at Din’s waist, allowing him to focus his full attention on the incoming assault.
Ok. What’s the situation Djarin…? Din thought to himself as he frantically raked his eyes over his surroundings, squinting in an effort to see through the kicked up dust from the destroyed gates, desperately throwing together a plan. Right. There’s at least twenty of them. Fully armoured. Fully trained. Fully armed with heavy duty, high tech blasters. Where the kriff did they get supplies that advanced?! There’s too many of them to pick off with my disruptor rifle, it takes too long to charge up between shots. I can’t use melee weapons. Too many of them. Even my beskar’gam wouldn’t hold up under that amount of heavy duty blaster fire, and there are only a few combat trained instructors in the school right now, the rest are conscientious objectors, and if they knew anything about strategy, they would stay inside with the children as the last line of defence… Kriff…
Din gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes in determination as he peeked out from behind his cover and shot repeatedly at the rapidly approaching Death Watch, gritting his teeth in frustration as his sloppy fire bounced harmlessly off of their beskar’gam. Just until back-up arrives. Din ducked down to avoid a dangerously close blaster shot. I just have to hold out until back-up arrives. Jaster wouldn’t let this stand. Din fought down the rising wave of hopelessness and panic that grew in his chest and tightened his throat as the approaching Death Watch shrugged off Din’s frantic blaster shots. Do it for the Ade, Djarin. They need you.
Din peeked his head back above cover, blaster at the ready, only to be met with the sight of at least ten of the Mandalorians who had previously been whispering behind his back in the streets descended out of the sky on either side of the approaching force, flanking them.
A vicious grin tugged at Din’s lips as the new arrivals open fired simultaneously at Death Watch’s exposed flanks, watching in satisfaction as five of the Hut’uun Demagolka fell limply to the ground. Stone dead. Well, now that changes things… Though he kshould never have doubted them in the first place. They were true Mandalorians after all. And no Mandalorian would ever knowingly place an Ad in danger. The Darksaber hummed proudly in agreement at Din’s waist.
With the added distraction from his unexpected reinforcements, Din holstered his blaster pistol and drew his disruptor rifle down from his back, revelling in its gentle hum as it charged up its disintegration shot. Baring his teeth in a facsimile of a grin, Din brought the rifle’s sights up to his visor and was met with the sight of a Death Watch operative gearing up to shoot one of the Haat’ade in the back. Not on my watch, Shabuir. Din snarled to himself as he squeezed the trigger and watched with satisfaction as the Demagolka fell backwards with a scream, their now empty armour clattering to the ground with an echoing clang.
The Haat’ade’s shoulders jolted as their helmet’s audial picked up the clatter of the fallen Death Watch’s armour before twisting around to meet Din’s eyes through his visor. The Haat’ade gave Din a short nod of acknowledgement before turning back to the bitter battle as Din waited for his rifle to charge up another shot.
Din was so absorbed in picking off the invading Death Watch that the quiet clatter of an incoming grenade rolling to a stop by his boot went unnoticed.
Ok. I think that we can actually hold out until Jaster sends reinforce-
BOOM
A sharp, burning pain erupted in din’s ribs as he was suddenly flung backwards through the air, his disruptor rifle slipping from his shock-limp fingers as he slammed into the school building’s wall. A pained grunt left Din’s lips as his helmet cracked hard against the wall, rattling his brain in his skull.
Strength robbed from the sudden blast, Din slid down the school wall to crumple limply to the ground with a pained wheeze, grimacing at the feel of warm, tacky blood soaking into the collar of his kute as his ribs creaked in his chest. Fractured, if not completely broken.
Kriff… Din groaned inwardly as his ears rang from the impact, head lolling forward to hang loosely between his shoulders. Kark. What a rookie mistake Djarin… Din struggled to draw breath through the overwhelming pain in his ribs, feeling as if an iron bar was compressing his lungs as he struggled to gain his bearings over the dancing black spots in his vision.
The sudden whine of a jetpack to his left had Din’s head jolting back up into an upright position, vision whiting out at the pain as he fumbled with the blaster holstered at his hip. A hazy figure silhouetted in the suddenly multiplying dark spots in Din’s vision slowy approached, their features obscured Din’s swimming vision as the world slowly spun around him.
After a few seconds of fumbling, Din finally yanked the blaster pistol from its holster with a victorious grunt, whipping it up to point unerringly at the approaching figure with a shaky, but true grip.
At the appearance of Din’s blaster, the figure jolted, bringing up their hands in a universal show of surrender, staying Din’s twitchy trigger finger. Din tilted his head in confusion as the figure slowly kneeled before him. What? Why would a Death Watch operative kneel- Din’s swimming thoughts quieted as the dots in his vision cleared enough to reveal black and red armour.
Jaster.
At the sight of the familiar beskar’gam, Din let his tense body slump backwards against the wall, blaster slipping from his limp fingers as he wheezed for breath through his fractured no, definitely broken ribs.
“-In. Di-. Din, Me'vaar ti gar?” Jaster’s smooth- Worried?- voice washed over Din, the familiar sound melting any left over tension
“I- Ugh. I’m f-fine.” Din stuttered, dragging in rough, panting breaths as he breathed through the pain.
Jaster shook his head in exasperation, hands already digging through his belt for his hastily packed bacta spray. “If you really believe that, then I’m going to have to put you up for another psych eval, Din. Try again.”
Din hissed in a stuttering laugh, lifting a hand weakly to gesture vaguely at his torso. “R-ribs. Head.” Din said breathily, struggling to catch his breath through the blinding pain in his torso.
Jaster nodded his head seriously, as he finally fished out the stubborn can of bacta spray from his belt and leaned forward, resting his hand on Din’s thigh for balance, until his lips were barely thirty centimetres from Din’s audial on his helmet. “May I remove your helmet, Din? I need to see the damage.” Jaster asked softly, vocoder cackling as it struggled to pick up his quietened voice.
Din felt tingling shivers raise goosebumps on his skin beneath where Jaster’s hand was pressed against his mid-thigh, the gentle warmth from Jaster’s broad hand soaking into his skin. “U-uh.” Din’s face heated up with a flush so fierce that he feared that Jaster could hear the sizzling of his face against beskar of his helmet. Unlike a month before, Din felt no shame in removing his helmet in front of others as he stared his Alor- his friend in the face. Paz’s gentle words regarding the Armourer’s secret teachings within the covert saw to that. So with a second of hesitation, Din jerkily nodded his head in reply.
Jaster’s gloved hand squeezed gently at Din’s thigh, sending a wave of heat pooling in Din’s stomach. “Thank you, Din.” Even through the robotic qualities of Jaster’s vocoder, Din could hear the smile in the other man’s voice, Jaster’s warm tone heating Din’s cheeks even more to the point where din was worried that he would explode.
Stop it Djarin! He’s only trying to treat your wounds you di’kut! Besides you’re only hurt because you were an idiot who made a rookie mistake when the lives of Ade were at stake. Din swallowed against the rising shame welling in his chest, flush dissipating even as Jaster gently ran his gloved fingers beneath the rim of his helmet until they reached the catch.
With a quiet hiss of the seal, Jaster gently pulled Din’s helmet over his head, letting out a quiet hiss of his own as Din’s face came into full view.
Din squirmed uncomfortably against the wall of the school building as he felt multiple stares bore into his bare face. Even after he had cautiously removed his helmet a few times over the past month or so, Din was still not used to the sensation of people’s eyes on his bare face. Besides, Din thought to himself, embarrassment tightening his throat as he felt one of his eyes being glued shut by a thick layer of drying blood, I probably look like a right disgrace right now…
Unable to look Jaster in the eye after both his rookie mistake and his shameful appearance, Din looked stubbornly down at the ground, missing how Jaster shifted to block Din from the group of celebrating Haat’ade behind him. “That looks bad Din. I can’t check both of your pupils, but I bet that you’ve got a pretty nasty concussion.” Jaster mumbled, sliding a hand back up Din’s thigh as he leaned forward to inspect Din’s bare face closer.
The previously banished heat in Din’s gut returned with full force as Jaster gently squeezed at the muscles of Din’s thigh, and Din resisted the urge to kick out at Jaster as the man leaned closer, pressing down harder on Din’s thigh. Is he doing this on purpose?! Din thought frantically as he felt his cheeks begin to warm again, even against the lingering choking embarrassment. He can’t be, right? Jaster would have no interest in a failure like me who didn’t even notice a kriffing grenade when it literally hits me. Din swallowed thickly against the rising shame. He couldn’t wait until they returned to the palace so that he could retreat to his rooms and lick his wounds away from prying eyes…
“Right, I’m going to apply the bacta now, Din. But this is only a field treatment. And I fully expect you to go to the med-bay as soon as we get back to the palace. I don’t want a repeat of Galidraan where you hid a wound and ended up collapsing on the bridge of my ship.” Jaster said firmly, an undertone of humour in his smooth voice, hand rubbing ‘soothingly’ at Din’s thigh.
Din gulped and averted his eyes even harder. Caught.
Jaster let out a knowing chuckle before thankfully shifting his hand off of Din’s thigh to feel carefully at Din’s broken ribs with a wince. “Yeah, those are definitely broken. I can’t do anything with bacta spray, so you’re gonna have to wait for the med-team Din-“
“Buir!”
A gentle brush against Din’s frazzled shields was the only warning he got before a yellow and black blur streaked out of the school to smack heavily against a pair of orange armoured legs with a whoomph. “Buir! You got all the bad men!”
Rhydor’s signature dulcet tone rang out through the air as the man himself gently detached Sonan from his legs before dropping into a crouch before the child, steadying the child as he threw himself into Rhydor’s broad chest with a delighted giggle. “Hey there, Ad’ika.”
Rhydor subtly ran a hand down his Ad’s torso, checking Sonan for injuries even as the boy himself began to babble a loudly a mile a minute against Rhydor’s chest plate about how wizard Din and the others were as they fought back Death Watch.
“Oh yeah, and why exactly was Din here to begin with, hmm Ad’ika?” Rhydor shook his head fondly at Sonan’s guilty shuffling, reaching a hand up to tug his helmet over his head, his dreadlocks falling out to frame his face.
A choked familiar sounding cough sounded from somewhere behind Rhydor, prompting the man to turn and look over his shoulder inquisitively, catching sight of both Paz and Boba approaching as they left the mangled bodies of Death Watch in their wake and by the almost imperceptible glint on top of a neighbouring building, Fennec was watching over them too. Paz’s wide shoulders had crept up to around his ears while Boba’s head was tilted in a way that Din knew his Ori’vod was drinking in Rhydor’s bare face, head tilted in approval. And Rhydor clearly knew it too judging by the way his cheeks reddened, the light flush made all the more obvious by his golden Kiffar facial marking.
At Din’s Ori’vode’s approach, Sonan squealed loudly before detaching himself from Rhydor and attempted to tackle Paz around the knees, chubby cheeks squishing up as a wide gap-toothed grin split the child’s face. “Paz Ori’vod! You won’t believe what happened at school today!”
Paz melted as the Ad wound his tiny arms around his legs, tension slipping away as he reached a large gloved hand down to rub gently between Sonan’s horns. Din saw Rhydor wince out of the corner of his eye At Sonan’s delighted squeals and subtly reach up a hand to fiddle with his hearing aids, turning down the volume as he discretely signed ‘ thank you’ in basic sign behind Sonan’s back. Judging from Jaster’s amused snort, the man had seen what Rhydor had done too.
Din shook his head in reply, weakly lifting a hand to sign ‘You’re welcome’ back, before the last of his strength fled and his arm flopped limply back to the ground, the pesky black spots multiplying in his vision as the world swam around him.
Din’s eyes fluttered closed to the sound of a startled yell as his body went completely limp, sliding slowly down the wall to the side until his shoulder and torso were resting against the ground.
“Kriff! Din’ika!”
“Hang in there, Vod’ika, the medics are two minutes out. Just hold on a little longer, don’t go to sleep!”
“Come on, Din. Just stay awake a little longer. Please…”
The last sensation that Din could feel as he drifted off, the blinding pain soothed by the cool darkness of sleep, was a warm, gloved hand squeezing gently at his thigh, and his last thoughts before he completely drifted off were, I swear to the Manda, if you don’t get your hand off my thigh, I’m either gonna kiss you and explode, or I’m gonna kick you…
As Din drifted off to sleep despite the distressed shouts from his Ori’vode, he completely missed the short conversation exchanged over his head as a hand carded gently through his tangled hair.
“Holy kriff, Din’ika. I knew you were oblivious, but not that oblivious. By the Ka’ra, I swear he’s even worse than kriffing Paz.”
“Oi. Ne'johaa! Usen’ye, at least I’m not short!”
“…”
“Ni ceta Boba…”
“Boba, I thought you said that blunt worked. I had my hand on his thigh. I literally can’t be any more blunt than that! .”
“Hang in there, Ba’buir. Someday you’ll get through that Di’kut’s thick kriffing skull. Maybe a heart-felt confession form the palace roof-top”
“Nah, that won’t work either. Our Vod’ika would find some way to over think that too.”
“You have no room to talk Vizsla, now move your ass so the medics can get through.”