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You haven’t looked at him in a week. It’s been a week since you’ve looked him in the eyes, since you’ve spoken directly to him, Maker- since you’ve even spoken more than two sentences to him before leaving the room.
It’s been a week since this icy atmosphere settled over the Razor Crest, casting a permanent chill over every inch of the ship, and Mando thinks he’ll go insane if it lasts any longer. If he has to deal with you avoiding his eyes, the hours spent alone in the cockpit with you down in the hull instead of sitting by his side as usual. This tense silence, instead of the sound of your voice, your laugh, your jokes.
He’s being punished, he thinks, and he sighs, knowing that it’s his fault. He wants to stop you every time you step away from him, but he can’t, because he’s the one in the wrong here.
It was a week ago when it happened. The two of you had been in the fresher, after he got back from a rather difficult bounty, just standing under the hot water and letting yourselves relax. Slowly, he could feel the tension he carried in his shoulders just give out as he held you, your head resting on his chest.
The two of you- were an odd mix. You had started out as a hire, someone to take care of the kid, but you quickly became a friend, someone he trusted. And then he fell for you, and he had been ready to bury those feelings forever, ignore them completely.
Then all his plans were destroyed after one particularly life-threatening job, when you had to patch him up, and your hands were shaking so bad, tears building in your eyes because he almost died, and he had kissed you. He couldn’t quite place exactly why he did it that night, whether it was how you had looked at him with those big eyes or how he had had to hold your hands to get them from shaking, or how soft your hands felt as you patched him up, but it changed everything.
The two of you had never…expressed what this thing the two of you had was. He couldn’t define it, but he could describe it. It was nights spent curled up in his bunk, limbs intertwined as you drifted off to sleep. Hours in hyperspace, talking about everything and nothing. His hand on the small of your back, guiding you through bustling marketplaces. Your fingers in his curls, eyes shut tight as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort after a tough day.
It- it was good.
And then everything changed in the fucking fresher. He was running his hands through your hair, and you had let out a soft, content little hum that made his heart beat faster. The words you uttered next made it stop beating completely.
“I love you, Mando.”
Everything had changed instantaneously. He knew you could feel it too, from the way his hands stopped moving and his breath hitched. He could feel you lift your head, hear the way your voice stuttered as you tried to backtrack, but he had already peeled away, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and fumbling out an excuse of needing to check on the kid.
He had locked himself in the cockpit, mustering up the courage to go down and explain himself, but when he did, you were asleep. Not in your shared bunk, but in the smaller one you had occupied for the months prior to that faithful fucking kiss. The one that had remained empty, cold, the one with the shitty mattress that you confessed to hating.
He had gotten nothing but ice from you since then. Everytime the two of you were in a room, it felt as if you both were a glass, wobbling on the edge of a countertop, ready to topple over and crash given one wrong move. So he just didn’t make any moves, too scared that he would fuck this up furhter.
His heart squeezed when he realized that he had singlehandedly ruined the best thing that had ever walked into his life, you. The sad look in your eyes, the way that your gaze never met his, was enough to make him want to curl up and cry in his bunk.
Mando was in love with you, he couldn’t lie to himself about that. But hearing the words from you had frozen him, activated his fight or flight, and he had chosen flight. Wrong option. You loved him. A truth that filled his stomach with butterflies and dread at the same time. Because he had gotten to know you and your love for the past months, and he had gotten hooked on it. You were like some new strain of spice that he just couldn’t stop getting high off of. Your smile, the fond look in your eyes when you looked at him, the way you loved the kid and respected his Creed, you- you were a blunt he couldn’t stop taking hits from.
And at the same time, he knew what happened to people that loved him. His parents had died protecting him, Kuiil, his first real friend in years- shot down by fucking stormtroopers just for helping him, for protecting the kid. The covert, the Mandalorians forced to break their Creeds because they had chosen to protect him.
He didn’t feel like he deserved your love. Now, watching you move around the ship, a shell of the bright-eyed, witty woman you were just a week ago, he’s certain of it. He’s hurt you, and he’s sure he’ll never forgive himself for it.
But wasn’t it better this way?
Mando manages to convince himself that it is, that he’s given you an out, that he’s opened your eyes to the kind of danger that being with him would expose you to, to the kind of person that he is. He holds onto that belief whenever he feels his heart start to crack, whenever you give him a dismissive nod instead of an actual goodbye as he sets off after a quarry, when you leave the cockpit right after bringing him food instead of staying to eat with him as you used to, the two of you sitting on the floor, back to back.
He missed you. He missed you so much, he misses how things used to be. Misses the feeling of your body against his and the sound of your voice. He craves to hear it again, more than the soft hums you’ve been using as replies to anything he says, and the sad sighs you let out when you think he isn’t listening.
He manages to stay strong for a week. On the seventh day, he cracks.
The ship is dark as he climbs back onboard, his latest quarry stumbling in behind him, binders clipped onto his wrists. He’s been gone for a day and a half now, and his feet feel heavy as he walks up the ramp. “I can give you credits!” The man squeaks as Mando drags him onto the ship.
“Shut up,” he grunts, not giving him any time to talk before he’s being stuffed into a carbonite plaque. His dismal mood has translated over into how he handles his jobs, and if his job was one that required repeat business, people would definitely call him out for being crankier than usual. Mando huffs, ready to head to his bunk and crash for a few hours before taking off for the next one, then he stalls. Freezes completely.
You’re fast asleep in your old bunk, but Grogu’s wide awake, sitting in your lap and cooing as he spots Mando walk in. The kid had definitely noticed the change in his parental figure’s relationship. He was so used to the two of them caring for him together, as a unit, and now he was being handed off between the two of them because they couldn’t be in the same room.
Mando stands there for a second- or it could be a minute, or several hours- watching you. He knows you haven’t been getting much sleep this past week, much like himself, so for you to be passed out cold like this, you must truly be exhausted. You look peaceful, your chest rising and falling softly and the soft frown you’ve been wearing for days on end has washed away. The first time in a week that you don’t look heartbroken, and it’s only because you’re asleep.
“Come on buddy,” he whispers, swallowing the lump in his throat and picking the kid up. “Let her get some sleep.” A part of him is glad you’re sleeping, that your eyes are closed and unable to look at him with the pain they’ve been filled with for the past week.
He deposits Grogu back into his crib and closes the shield as the kid nods off, turning back towards his own bunk, then he freezes again. His bed’s been cold for the past week. Cold, and unwelcoming, and he hasn’t gotten a good night of sleep since he… His heart splits in two, overwhelmed with a yearning sensation, wanting nothing more than to pull you close and sleep with you by his side, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
Mando feels tired as all hell, standing there, in between your bunk as his own, but he makes no movement towards either. Stuck in place, in fact- he’s just trying to decide between pushing this new desire down and going to sleep, or choosing the trickier option, which would require waking you ip.
His resolve cracks then and there as he sighs, unclipping his rifle, shedding his cape and his weapons and crossing over to your bunk. “Sweet girl,” he whispers, shaking your shoulder lightly. “Cyar’ika…”
“Mando?” You whisper, rubbing your eyes sleepily. He’s been treating you like a bomb for the past week, like if he gets too close, the ship will be blown to smithereens, so you must be a bit confused. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just- come here,” you look at his hand warily, eyes flickering back between it and his helmet, effectively breaking his heart for what feels like the millionth time this week. “Please?”
You swallow, taking his hand and letting him lift you off of the small bunk, carrying you in his arms over to his own. “What-” you lift your head, rubbing your eyes sleepily and looking around as he sets you down on the mattress, climbing in next to you. “Mando, what-“
“Haven’t been sleeping well,” he sighs as you lay down next to him. “And you’ve told me that that mattress feels like shit.”
You open your mouth and for a second he thinks you’re going to argue, yell at him, but you must be more tired than he thought because all you can offer is a weak smile and a nod, your attempt at civility, before you turn away from him, curling up and muttering the softest “goodnight” he’s ever heard. His eyes don’t leave your body. He knows you well enough to know that you’re not sleeping. You can’t, not in this situation, not after the week you’ve had.
He remembers taking you along with him on a job in Coruscant, one which he had stupidly assumed would be an easy one. You had both gotten back home relatively unharmed, but you were so wound up from the incidents that you couldn’t sleep that night, not until he got you to drink something warm and held you until you got sleepy.
That’s why he’s not surprised to hear your soft gasp when he reaches over and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Mando, what-“
“Please,” he murmurs into your hair, hoping that the silent plea conveys the depth of his regret, how he’s never wished for anything more than he now wishes for the ability to go back in time and fix things. “I just- I’ve missed you.”
You shake your head firmly, pushing his arms off of you, but you don’t move away, don’t revive the almost intolerable space that you had instilled between the two of you. “I can’t do this, Mando,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself, protecting yourself from him, from your feelings. “I really fucking can’t just- pretend that what happened didn’t… I can’t let myself go back to how things used to be.”
You don’t trust him, or yourself, with your heart anymore. If he were in your shoes, he wouldn’t either, but seeing you like this still manages to break his heart in two, one clean cut like someone took an axe to it. “I know, sweet girl,” he nods, and reaching up, he swiftly takes his helmet off. He wants you to hear his voice right now, his real voice. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“
“-Led me on?” You cut him off, laughing bitterly and he can see tears decorating your lash line, your eyes shut tight. Even though you’re facing away from him, you always close your eyes when he has his helmet off. “Isn’t that what your doing right fucking now?”
“No,” he shakes his head firmly. “I shouldn’t have walked away, I shouldn’t have ignored it for so long, or- or let you believe that I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?” Your voice is hoarse, quieter than a whisper, as if you know what he’s going to say, but you don’t trust that he’ll actually say it.
He swallows. “That I didn’t love you.”
Your breath hitches, and you release an exhale that you didn’t know you had been holding in. You still don’t turn around. “If you’re saying this just to fix things, Mando-”
“-I’m not. You know me, sweet girl-”
“I thought I did,” you laugh dryly, shaking your head softly, and your voice quivers. “I thought a lot of things, and then after that- I thought that what we had- that it didn’t mean anything to you-“
“It meant everything to me, you mean everything to me-“
“Then why?” You demand, your voice wet with emotion. You turn around, and Mando’s throat tightens at the tear tracks that mar your face. “Why? Why- break my heart, why let me distance myself from you for a week, why couldn’t you say it back?”
“I was afraid,” he confesses, laughing weakly at how ridiculous it sounds. Him? The Mandalorian that runs with gunslingers, fights off stormtroopers, goes against the entire Guild, the Mando that makes a hush fall over any room he enters, afraid? “I was afraid that you were going to realize that you deserve better. I was scared shitless that you were going to end up dead one day, and it would be my fault.”
You shake your head, your lip quivering. “Maybe I do deserve better than a run down ship and an emotionally unavailable Mandalorian, but that’s not what I fucking want, Mando. I’ve only ever wanted you.”
You wipe your eyes furiously, and he’s about to speak when you keep going. “And fuck you for thinking you don’t deserve to be happy, fuck you, you bastard, and you- you think that I didn’t know how dangerous this shit would be when I joined you? I know, it’s dangerous, but I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions, and I chose to join you, and I’m choosing to stay-“
You make a little muffled noise as he leans in, cupping your face and kissing you, hesitantly, tenderly, expressing all the things he wishes he had said, and when you lean in, holding his face with just as much tenderness, he sighs in relief. “Ni ceta,” he apologizes, pulling away and wiping your tears. “I’m sorry, sweet girl, I’m so sorry.”
“I need to hear you say it Mando,” you whisper, your lips still brushing against his own. Your thumb brushes against his cheekbone softly, your hand warm against his skin. Warm, soft, comforting, everything that makes you feel like home. “Please, just say it, please,”
He understands. You know he does, but after the week he’s just put you through, there has to be a little voice in the back of your head, casting doubts on his apologies, his kiss, his attempt at reconciliation. So he nods, holding your hand gently and tilting his head to the side to kiss the inside of your wrist before whispering it against your skin.
“I love you.”
You sigh, shuddering as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders and surge forward to kiss him passionately, and he returns with just as much of his own.
“You were right,” you scoff, pulling away and resting your head on his chest. Mando lets out a short hum, as if asking you to elaborate. “That mattress was really shitty.”
“I’ll make sure you never have to use it again,” he chuckles, littering kisses over your shoulder blade.
“What about when I get mad at you?”
“What makes you think I’ll give you reason to be mad?” He grins as he hears the little scoff you let out. “Fair point, fair point. Be as mad at me as you want, but you’re not leaving this bunk ever again, this past week was the worst.”
“And whose fault was that?” You bite back teasingly, reaching up and nudging your nose against the underside of his jaw.
“I’ll apologize until my dying breath, just don’t leave.”
“Never,” you agree. “Besides, I don’t trust that you and the kid could make it without me-” And as if on cue, Grogu begins wailing softly, his cries somewhat muted by his crib’s shield for a few moments before he opens it, two green ears poking out. Mando sighs, grabbing his helmet before you’re stopping him. “I’ll do it,” you shake your head. “You sound like you haven’t slept in ages.”
“I love you,” he whispers it again, sitting up to kiss your shoulderblade. Just because it’s true, just because he wants to say it.
“I know,” and he can just hear the grin on your face as you slide out of the bunk. He lies back down, his eyes drifting shut. He’s just on the verge of falling asleep- he really underestimated how tired he was- when he’s surprised by a pair of lips on his cheek. “I love you too,” you whisper it, and he can feel your smile against his skin before you’re sliding out of the bunk for good- good thing, because if you’d stayed any longer he’d have pulled you back down and not let you leave.
Mando settles back against the mattress, smiling up at the bunk’s ceiling as he hears you speaking softly to Grogu, his cheek still buzzing from the kiss that you pressed there. His heart beats rapidly, filled with relief that he hadn’t been too late, that he had managed to find the right words to say.
He’ll say them for the rest of his life, just for you.