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Din has never felt so relieved to see the hunk of metal he calls home—but the Razor Crest isn’t what causes Din’s heart to race, or his pace to quicken, or his head to spin. Rather, it’s what the Crest holds within her, the true meaning of the home he’s made within the ship: you and Grogu.
Din had been so sure that this hunt would be easy until he discovered the quarry’s deep connections within this town. He seemed to practically run the place, and because of that, trying to get to him meant also getting through at least a dozen others. Din didn’t want to risk reaching out to you via your holotransceiver in case they somehow tracked it, but knowing he was leaving you in the dark about his fate on this hunt has caused a pit to grow in his stomach that won’t be resolved until he’s reassured you of his safety.
But he needs to make sure you’re safe before he can even think about that.
A warm fire ignites within Din’s chest when he uses his vambrace to open the hatch and makes his way into the hull. Thankfully, he already sent the bounty on their way and received his payment right on this planet, which leaves him with much more time to reassure himself of your safety—as well as Grogu’s.
You’re doing busy work around the hull when Din steps inside. When his shadow passes over the wall of the Crest, you look his way with wide eyes and a gaze that melts into Din’s own through his visor. A stunning smile crosses your lips, one that matches Din’s own grin beneath his helmet. He meets you in the middle as you come close and stand just a single step away from him. Din’s never wanted to take you into his arms as badly as he does now, just getting to see that you’re all right.
“I thought something happened,” you sign, your gaze revealing your honesty as it sparkles with concern yet strong relief.
“No, I’m okay,” Din signs back, nodding his helmet to emphasize his words. “Just a few more men than I expected.”
You offer a nod in return, still smiling as Din closes the hatch behind him. When he turns back to you, he can see more of the longing in your eyes—the same thing he’d felt when the days started to get longer and longer. You go to sign again, but this time, Din can see a nervous hesitance in your movements. “I missed you.”
The fire within Din’s chest continues to burn, yet there’s an ache that appears within it, strengthening his urge to embrace you. He holds his ground and offers his response. “I missed you, too.” Din looks around, distracting himself as his visor searches the hull. “Where’s the baby?”
“He’s asleep. He missed you a lot.”
Din looks towards Grogu’s compartment—his old one—that’s now closed. His helmet tilts to the side as he turns back to you. “I’m sorry.”
Your brow furrows as you shake your head at him. You take a step even closer to him and sign quickly. “Don’t apologize.” You pause, holding a breath as your gaze continues to study his visor. When you sign again, your movements are slow and meaningful. “We were just worried.”
The ache in Din’s chest has become so prominent now that he can barely breathe. A short gasp nearly makes its way through his modulator as he tries to think of some kind of response. He knows his gloved hands look unsure as he responds. “Don’t worry. I’ll always come back.” Din pauses, his hands beginning to shake due to both his nerves upon asking you his next question and his desire to comfort you beyond these words and gestures. “May I…?” Din stops his movements, looking between his frozen hands and your gaze as he tries to gain the faith to sign the words. The bounty hunter can’t gain the strength to move his hands and fingers in the way he wants to—so he tries something else. Din slowly reaches out to you, his hand reaching for one of yours and gently pulling you closer to him. That becomes enough for you to know, and so with a soft smile and a desperate look of your own, you move to wrap your arms around him.
Din’s not used to embracing, but something about the feeling of your arms encircling him feels right. The way he returns the gesture is slow but full of certainty. Din wants to let himself enjoy this feeling—to relish in the sensation of his helmet gently resting against your head while he keeps you close—but something else is nagging at him. It’s the same thing that stops him every time. Din has never felt worthy of you; not of your kindness, your care, or anything at all. He’s never felt worthy of Grogu, either. He’s never felt worthy of affection at all.
His lifestyle has hardened him, tainted him, and Din’s always been afraid of streaking you and Grogu with the same grime that covers him. The silver of his beskar cries out for his redemption but Din cannot accept it. He sees you smiling and laughing with Grogu and that fire in his chest gets snuffed out by his doubt and remembrance that elsewhere in the galaxy, he’s broken up such a family. He’s alone with you and lets himself stare longingly at your hand from behind his visor but can’t gain the faith to grab it as he remembers the times when he cuffed hands that looked so similar to your own. When he’s lying awake at night, listening to the gentle humming of the Crest and drowning in the darkness of his compartment where he can safely take his helmet off and at least try to breathe, Din chastises himself for even wishing that he could have a life that’s good and pure with you after he’s ruined so many others’.
But, for now, he’ll be selfish and let himself enjoy what he has.
Din doesn’t know how long it’s been since he started to hold you, but he knows he begins to miss it the moment you start to pull away from him. Your gaze is soft yet unsure as you stare at him. Din gives his helmet a shake, only removing his arms from around you to sign to you. “You don’t have to go,” Din assures you, desperate to get this selfish moment of his to last.
You draw in a breath and Din wonders if you realize how loud it is. He knows it’s catching in your throat as you look between his visor and his cuirass a few times, your hands slowly pulling away from him as you sign your response. “You need to rest.”
Din’s heart softens yet again. Your care for him never seems to end. He wants to return that to you, even if he doesn’t know how. Before he can stop himself, Din continues to sign. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Your gaze softens even more as you nod at him, coming just a bit closer to him as you respond. “Okay.” You pause and study him. He can see you glancing at his leather-covered fists as they clench at his sides. “What can I do?”
Din considers your words for a moment, slowly lifting his gloved hands from his sides before he answers you. “Stay with me tonight.”
“I would like that.”
Din smiles to himself and nods. “I’ll wash up first.”
You return his nod, looking down as you brush your hand over his and give his fingers a gentle squeeze. Din can feel his heart leap into his throat, the warmth threatening to consume him whole in another affectionate fire as you step away. He watches you make your way up the ladder to the compartment he uses across from the cockpit and takes a deep breath before he steps towards the ‘fresher.
Meanwhile, you approach Din’s compartment and take a cautious step inside. You’ve been in here once or twice before when you’ve had to check in on Din in the aftermath of a bad injury—but this is different, now. Something about this feels so intimate, as if Din’s inviting you not only into his room but also into the place underneath his beskar. You start tidying up the place for him to distract yourself from the pit that’s growing in your stomach.
It’s the feeling that you’re not whole enough for him.
Din’s never pointed it out and he’s never shown a single sign of it being a problem, but still you’ve continued to feel like a burden. Ever since he first found you the day the baby waddled up to you at the marketplace on Bospello, you’ve feared he’s only taken you in because of his pity for you. Being Deaf in a galaxy of such action has never made you afraid; only anxious at times for miscommunications. You often wonder if Din worries more for your safety than he would have to if you could hear.
It’s a trivial thing and you know it. Your deafness is a part of you that you would never want to change but you fear Din doesn’t see it that way. From what you know of him, he would never be the type to want to change you—though you also know that fear doesn’t have to be rationalized. The last thing you would ever want to do is make Din’s complicated life even more difficult for him.
You take a deep breath and attempt to clear your dizzying thoughts. Before you can make solid progress on that, you can sense the vibrations of the Crest as Din makes his way towards the compartment. You turn around from where you’ve been fluffing up the pillow to see Din standing in the doorway. He wears no armor other than his helmet, instead favoring a comfortable tunic and loose-fitting pants. He sets the cloth sack full of beskar down and signs to you. “I’m glad to see you making yourself at home.”
With a smile and a shrug, you offer our response. “I thought it might help you rest better.”
Din’s chest stalls as he takes a deep breath. “You always think of me first.”
You raise your brow at him and gesture to the cloth sack of armor. “You do the same.”
Din tilts his helmet in a gesture you’ve learned to substitute for a smile. You let your grin remain as you sit on top of the bed and watch Din do the same. He sits so that he’s facing you, his legs crossed as he takes another deep breath. His fingers—ungloved—tap repetitively over his clothed knees. A knit forms in your brow as you wait for him to lift his hands and sign to you. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
His words spark fear in you that burns like a match set aflame. You rush to sign before you can stop yourself. “Is something wrong?”
Din shakes his helmet and matches your same speed with his response. “No, nothing’s wrong.” He pauses before continuing. “It’s not bad.”
Another pause follows. Din’s hands have started to tremble and his fingers are picking at each other with anxiety. You glance at him with sympathy as you lift your hands again. “Are you nervous?”
Din’s hands slow their movements as he waits a beat before responding. “It’s important.”
A worried frown etches across your lips. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I do.” His helmet turns to the side as he looks away from you for a long moment. You wait with your own heavy burden of anxiety for him to say more. Your fingers play with the hem of your nightshirt as you keep your curious gaze fixated on Din’s nervous form. His broad frame rises and falls in steady breaths that somehow work to calm you. After a prolonged pause, Din’s visor meets your gaze as he lifts his nervous hands. “I don’t want this to be the only night we spend together.”
You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. A smile of relief replaces your anxious grimace. “Neither do I.”
Din’s helmet starts to tilt at you, spreading a sweet warmth throughout your chest. “You kept saying before that you missed me.” You nod and encourage him to keep going. “I missed you, too. I was worried about you.”
You snort with disbelief and slight amusement. “Grogu and I weren’t the ones on a dangerous hunt.”
“It doesn’t matter. I need you to be safe all the time.” Din’s visor falls to his hands for a moment as he exhales. His shoulders sink as if they hold the weight of the entire galaxy on them. “That’s why I’m having trouble being honest.”
Your concern returns as you reach out to Din. You hook your fingers upon the chin of his helmet and lift it to make him look at you again. Once his visor has returned to your gaze, you question him. “Being honest about what?”
Din’s chest rises and falls again before he replies. “I have a history, cyar’ika.” You smile at the shorthand he signs for the nickname he’s given you. He had spelled it out for you before, but never told you if it meant anything. “I may not be who you think I am.”
You frown and move yourself closer to him, until the knees of your crossed legs are touching his. “You’ve shown me otherwise.” His fingers are picking at each other again. You know him well enough to realize why. “I’m not afraid of you.” You shake your head to emphasize your point. “I never will be.”
Din tilts his helmet at you in a slow motion. You offer a smile of encouragement as he processes your words. With a determined straightening of his shoulders, he lifts his hands. “Then I’ll try to be brave enough to say this.” He looks down at his hands in consideration. “I want you to know I’m telling the truth.”
Your expression is filled with confusion. “I already trust you.”
Din holds his breath. “It can be hard to trust the true emotions of a man without a face.” Your eyes widen in disbelief even before he continues. “I have a way I can show you mine.”
You shake your head. “You don’t have to break your Creed for this, for me.”
“It won’t break my Creed if you don’t see it.” Din stands for a moment and walks towards his cloth sack of armor. You don’t take your gaze off him for a moment as your heart hums within your throat. He returns with a shred of cloth in his grasp, torn from the soft material of his cape. Din sits with his knees touching yours again and opens his hand to show you the fabric.
You swallow hard. You know what Din’s asking for. He needs you to trust him in more than just the honesty of his words. Your sight is vital to your communication—and Din’s asking for you to go beyond that. Your earlier fears start creeping in again. “How will I know what you’re saying?”
“I’ll guide you.” Din sets the cloth down for a moment and reaches his hands out towards yours. He waits for a nod from you to set the warmth of his hands over yours and guide them through his next sign. “Promise.”
You look from your hands to his visor. With another hard swallow and a determined nod, you draw your hands away from his to further affirm his request. “Okay.”
Din returns your nod. He’s gentle with every action as he picks the cloth back up and rises to his knees to tie it over your eyes and around your head. Once he has secured the knot, you’re submerged in darkness, left only to the mercy of Din’s guidance as his hands cover yours and sign for you. “Comfortable?”
You nod and offer a smile to reassure him. The warmth of Din’s hands leaves yours for a moment as you hold your breath. You feel the bed dip as something is placed upon it. Your heart races even more than before as Din takes your hands and eases them away from you. He sets them against warm skin that’s even softer than his hands—until you feel small whiskers of what has to be facial hair.
Your heart leaps out of your throat in the form of a sweet gasp. Din’s hands have fallen to your wrists as he gives you the time to map out his features. You keep your touch as gentle as possible as your fingertips brush over skin that has so rarely received such well-deserved affection. One of your hands remains on his cheek as the other creates a path over his temple and along his brow. You brush down the length of his nose, which curves out in a bold yet delicate manner as it leads to the hair that covers his upper lip. Your fingers end their journey over the warmth of his lips as you feel them curve up into a smile underneath your touch. You mirror his expression with a smile of your own as your hand makes its way onto his cheek again.
Din takes one of your hands and lowers it until it’s touching the cloth that covers his chest. He presses your palm flat against it. Your brow knits in confusion until you feel the rhythmic beating of his heart underneath your hand. It’s racing just as quickly as your own, pounding against your palm as you look at him with disbelief.
After a few moments, Din takes your hands in his and eases them off his face and chest. He begins to guide you in a simple sign. “Cyar’ika.” You smile at the shorthand of your nickname. He then takes your hands and tucks your fingers into fists, leaving both your thumbs extended. Din presses your fists against each other and eases them over your heart, his thumbs pressing yours down over and over again in a sign that takes your breath away. “Sweetheart.”
You look at him with awe as he continues to guide you through the affectionate sign. All kinds of dizzying thoughts run through your mind. It takes all your faith and strength to pull your hands away from his and make a sign of your own. “Yours?”
Din covers your hands and answers. “Mine.”
You can feel your eyes brimming with tears of disbelief as your fears threaten to overpower your joy. With a deep breath to steady yourself, you make them known. “Am I enough for you?”
When Din takes your hands this time, it’s with a gentleness that threatens to melt you to the Crest’s cold metal floor. He handles them with care you can feel, not just see, as he guides you through his response. “You’re more than enough for me.” A breath gets caught in your throat not only at his sweet answer, but also at the soft kiss he leaves upon your knuckles. Your smile grows as he continues. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.” He drops one of your hands to brush his own over your cheek, letting his thumb graze across the delicate skin. His hand returns to yours so he can finish his sweet truths. “If you were any different, you wouldn’t be the person I’ve fallen for.”
You’re grateful for the cloth that keeps your tears hidden from Din’s sight as you manage to create a response with your trembling hands. “I could say the very same thing about you.”
Din takes your face between your hands and caresses it with a passion you cannot find a word for. The warmth of his forehead meets your own in a gesture that takes your breath away. You continue to smile as you let him keep you close, your hands searching for his own face. Din guides you by grabbing your hand and setting it upon his cheek, making it easier for your other hand to also find his face. Your fingertips explore his face again, but this time they seek a specific destination. The warmth of Din’s lips lands underneath your touch as you let your thumb trace the bottom one. Din’s response is to move closer to you—and you do the same. You come closer and closer until your own lips are almost touching your fingers, causing you to draw them away altogether as Din makes the final move.
Din’s lips melt upon your own with a warmth that ignites the brightest of flames within you. The action is so soft and sweet that it makes you hum, causing him to smile against your mouth as he deepens the kiss. Din wraps a gentle hand around the back of your neck to urge you closer and you move with him willingly. The more you get lost in this moment, the bolder you become as you let one hand brush over his ear and thread through the soft tufts of hair on his head. You can’t help smiling just at the feeling of it as you wish for this moment to last forever.
You break away from each other with lingering lips and heavy yet satisfied breaths. You can imagine a smile on Din’s lips as your own remains. Din’s nose touches yours as he stays close, both of his hands holding your face again as he keeps you in place. After a few more breaths, he lets his lips brush against yours as he speaks with vibrations and movements you recognize, uttering a word that makes your heart burst into the sweetest of flames: Cyar’ika.
You smile as wide as you can manage before kissing him once more. Your hand remains locked in the softness of his hair as the other admires the side of his face, leaving behind touches that will remain until the day your own gaze can graze upon them. Din treats the kiss with the same amount of passion, keeping you just as close as before and only pulling away to sustain his breath.
When Din starts to pull himself completely away from you, you shake your head with desperation and attempt to cling to him. Din sets his hands over yours to explain himself. “There’s something I need to tell you face-to-face.” You release a relieved breath as Din goes on. “I promise I’m not leaving you.”
You nod, letting him go to tend to what he needs to. The weight that was once on the bed now disappears as your fingers fumble in your lap. After a prolonged moment, you feel two gentle hands lift the blindfold from your eyes, revealing the sight of Din in his helmet as he tilts it at you. With a smile of your own, you watch Din set the cloth aside and lift his hands with much more certainty than before.
Din first points to himself. He then draws his hands into fists and crosses his arms over his chest. In a final and meaningful movement, he points his finger towards you. “I love you.”
Your smile continues to grow as you repeat the gesture back at him. “I love you.”
Din’s helmet tilts even more before he brings himself close to you again and rests the beskar against your forehead. You hold the helmet between your hands just like you had with his face. You no longer feel any of the fears you’d been holding to your chest for so long; instead, you feel safer than ever in Din’s grasp, knowing you’re in the care of someone who will always believe you’re perfectly enough in every way.
Din lifts his helmet from your head and gestures towards the closed door of the compartment. You furrow your brow before he signs to you. “We should rest. If I turn off the lights, I can remove my helmet again with no blindfold.”
You nod and offer a response. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Din tilts his helmet one more time at you. “I would expect nothing else from you, cyar’ika.”
You grin as you watch him stand from the bed to make his way to the control panel by the door. When the lights go off, the room is submerged in pure darkness, leaving Din to guide you again as he gently takes you and eases you back towards the pillows with himself. He lies down and urges your head to rest upon his chest, his hand securing your head in place as you close your eyes and wrap your arms around him. Underneath your ear, his heart drums at a steady pace, the vibrations of it soothing you to sleep like nothing else as you rest with the full knowledge that every single beat has now been dedicated to you.