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The cozy quarters provided to you at the Igneous Inn—while dimly-lit in that pleasant sort of way that makes you immediately sleepy—are, at the moment, on the outskirts of a rather raucous town festival.
Nevarro has certainly gotten its act together in the moons since your clan of three’s last visit… And the fact that its outpost is able to host such a celebration at all is clear evidence of that. From all that Cara had told you, the event seems at its core to be a celebration of love and companionship. Young people, especially, traverse the flats in search of bright red leaves from a special shrub that thrives in the planet’s volcanic soil, and then proceed to harvest and weave the plants into garlands to adorn their loved ones’ heads with.
You know that, as usual, Din took you and Grogu here strictly for Guild business—but that couldn’t stop you from admiring the street festivities with all the same wide-eyed awe of the kid himself. Locals wander the roads bearing gorgeous crowns of scarlet foliage, drifting leisurely from vendor to vendor as the enticing aromas of spices and sweets fill the air.
Earlier, while sitting with Din through his bartering session with Karga, you had never felt more anxious to leave.
In light of Din’s recent change in spacecraft, Cara had insisted she pull some strings to get your crew the last room at the Inn—one double bed, though neither of you seem to much mind… You’re used to tight quarters.
And you’re determined not to let the restless thing in your heart have a say.
Seated upon one edge of the bed now, Grogu snuggled into your lap, you stare out the window at the nighttime reverie continuing down the road. Beneath the warm glow of street lamps, young lovers laugh, drunk on ardees or perhaps only each other. Families stroll with their children to admire the vermillion glow of lanterns adorning shop stalls.
Once upon a time, not so long ago, you were little more than a glorified nanny aboard the Razor Crest.
The Mandalorian Din Djarin was more terrified at the new prospect of fatherhood than he’d ever let on—but after a chance encounter with you at a drifters’ outpost, you seemed to be just what each other needed… And of course, it helped Din’s case that his son is the most adorable little womprat you’ve ever laid eyes upon.
It all feels like a million years ago… So much has happened, since then.
Grogu was gone, for a short time—a strange period during which you had begun to sincerely doubt that Din needed your help with anything at all aboard his ship. Feeling lost and more than a little heartbroken, you had genuinely considered releasing him from his obligations to you…
But when Din returned that dark and lonely night, after his first failed visit to check in on Grogu—
Well.
Everything changed.
I know you think I only kept you around because of the kid , he had said, sending your stomach into an anxious whirl. But… That’s not the whole of it. I need you to know.
From there, Din had told you his name—his true name—for the very first time, and explained to you that companionship in this life was more important than he’d previously given it credit for. That, if you were interested and willing, he was more than happy to keep you aboard his crew for whatever the future may bring… As a member of his “clan.”
You eagerly accepted—though the offer excited, confused, and dismayed you all in one fell swoop. Nonetheless, time went on, and not long after that development, you and Din were reunited with his son—and just like that, it seemed all was once again right with the universe.
Nowadays, though, it’s grown impossible to deny your unrequited crush on the towering Mandalorian—and it’s never escaped your notice that his offer to retain you as a part of his crew contained no promises of anything more.
All the same, despite the platonic nature of his initial proposal, being a member of Din Djarin’s clan has come with some unexpected—and not altogether unpleasant—perks.
Din gifted you with a pendant of glistening beskar, bearing the same mudhorn signet displayed on his pauldron, as well as a wicked little blaster pistol. He seemed to grow more protective of you, especially when traversing seedy planets while on the hunt. After a while, he even revealed his face to you, and continues to do so when alone with just you and the child—something you’re still trying to acclimate to, to be quite honest.
It was bad enough when Mando was just a broad and intimidating bounty hunter in literal shining armor that enjoyed your company with the same quiet fondness through which you enjoy his.
Now, to make matters worse, you’re painfully aware that he’s gorgeous .
Your breathing trails off into the idle melody you’ve been humming as you see a young mother outside purchasing skewered… Something , for her child to nibble on. You run one of Grogu’s long ears through your thumb and forefinger; you bet he’d like one of those, tomorrow.
You want to see more festivals like this, visit more planets just to wander and be . You’re fine with the life Din leads you on—it’s never dull, after all—but perhaps you just… Want to indulge in gentler things, now and then.
Calmer waters.
Softer feelings —
The pang of longing strikes you like an electric shock, and you blink rapidly to shake it off.
No .
That is not the kind of relationship you and Din have—not the kind he wants, anyway.
Right?
Behind you, the door to the inn room opens and closes with a soft whoosh —followed by the telltale hiss of Din shucking off his helmet.
You don’t turn around. You’re not sure you can face him right now, with all these thoughts muddling your head.
“I asked, and they do serve food in the mornings here. I’m sure the kid will love that.”
You hum in acknowledgement, feeling rather than hearing that he’s stepping around to greet you. Falling to one knee in front of you, Din gives Grogu a ruffling pat atop the head; your heart is sent aflutter at the child’s responding delight.
Maker, Din really is a sight to behold.
The silver gleam of beskar catching the lamplight streaming in from outside… Hastily shaven stubble painted along his jaw. Dark hair, bronze skin, artful nose—warm brown eyes that seem to be constantly searching, observing.
Tonight, it’s enough to make your heart ache.
“Hey, stop that,” Din chides softly, and you flinch—but, looking down, you see… It’s only the kid. Grogu has bunched up some of the fabric of your rough-hewn skirt and has, apparently, been soaking it with some of his spit for Maker-knows-how long.
You should have noticed; you blush, looking away.
“Hey…”
And it’s the change in tone, less reprimand, more concern—this time, you know he’s talking to you.
Din murmurs your name.
“Please look at me,” he pleads softly. “Come back planetside, for a moment. What’s the matter?”
You wince at the gentle worry in his voice—and the movement makes you realize how misty your eyes have grown. You’re not sure you can do this when he’s down there, looking up at you like he’d fall at your feet if you asked him to… You pat the empty space on the mattress beside you, and reluctantly, Din obliges.
“I don’t know, just… Feeling sentimental tonight, I guess,” you say through a mirthless chuckle. Din hums, though he clearly is still confused by the sudden turn of your emotions. It’s all a bit too much.
You could bear his indifference, you think; you can’t live with his worry .
Looking down into your lap, big black eyes blink back up at you. After smoothing the rumpled mess the kid made of your skirt, you begin slowly stroking his ears as you search for words.
“Din,” you begin, and see him nod encouragingly out of the corner of your eye. “I guess I never really asked you… I never thought to, but—to Mandalorians, what is a clan?”
He’s silent for a long moment, and then:
“‘What is ’ it?”
Your face burns hot—you feel like the galaxy’s biggest idiot.
“I mean, like…” You sigh, frustrated at your own shortcomings, gaze still affixed to your lap. “Is it a crew, like for a ship? Or is it… Something like family?”
You feel some of the tension dissipate as Din begins to seriously consider your question. He watches through the window outside as festival-goers chatter their way into a distant murmur.
“It’s people you care about,” he begins tentatively—but the response already succeeds in quickening the pounding rhythm of your heart. “People you make a promise to… Protect. And trust. So… Yeah, I guess something like a family.”
You nod in acknowledgement, but for the time being, say nothing more… The tumult of your thoughts is too much to put into words.
Together, for what might be several minutes or merely seconds, you watch the glisten of festival lights out the window.
At length, Din speaks once more—and he sounds more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard him.
“Do you… Regret —”
“ No .”
Before you can think, you’ve whirled sideways to face him; Grogu giggles in surprise at the jostling movement. Din’s fathomless dark eyes have gone wide as moons, taken aback by the fervor of your denial.
“...Oh.” Din’s monosyllabic response is relief and confusion in equal measure; without the obfuscation of his helmet, you can read it all upon his features. You sigh as you lean down to right the child from where he’s toppled sideways, standing him upright beside you to wander around the wide double mattress while you contemplate your next words.
“I care about you, Din. And it’s… Nice to hear that you care about me, too, I guess. Not that you don’t show it, of course, I just—” You swallow thickly, breaking his gaze to peer out the window once more.
When the plush feel of a leather-gloved hand finds its way to your cheek, you think you could melt on the spot. Din breathes your name, giving you the strength to meet his eyes once more—though you place your own hand over his where it rests upon your cheek, praying he doesn’t release the touch.
“Can we take a trip somewhere? Like… As a ‘family.’”
Some of the tension breaks; Din’s eyes crinkle in teasing.
“All we do is take trips.”
You roll your eyes, releasing his hand to shove him gently on the pauldron.
“You know what I mean, Din,” you chide. “All we do is go places for bounties… Which is fine, don’t get me wrong, but—” Your gaze darts meaningfully toward the celebration still happening out the window. Suddenly, your voice feels much smaller as you continue: “I want to… Spend time with you. And, um—with the kid.”
Din nods in understanding, even as he raises a dark eyebrow. Reaching back up to your face, he brushes a lock of hair behind your ear.
You can’t help it; the touch makes you shiver.
The two of you have locked eyes, now—and like any true standoff, it’s unclear who will be the first to relieve the pressure. Some unrecognizable feeling has taken light in his dark eyes, shy yet hungry.
“...Is that all you want?”
You inhale sharply at his words; your response comes out as little more than a whisper.
“ No .”
And then you’re kissing him.
For the briefest of moments, it would seem that you’ve caught the revered Mandalorian bounty hunter off-guard—his hands hover to his sides, unsteady and uncertain… But when you reach up to run your fingers up the nape of his neck, his touch spreads to you like wildfire, burying one hand into your hair while the other anchors itself to your waist. With a growing smile, you sigh into his mouth, and soon enough Din’s surging forward, his aquiline nose brushing your own as you melt into him.
It’s only when you hear a gentle giggle, that the two of you are reminded to come up for air.
Both yours and Din’s gaze looks down to the sound’s source: Grogu seated upon the other end of the bed, laughing and clapping at the display of earnest affection.
Your cheeks feel hotter than stars; Din merely smiles, taking your hands in his own before he turns to look at you with an expression deepened by aching fondness. It steals the breath from your lungs.
“You want to go somewhere?” Din murmurs, a smile curling his flushed lips. “Pick a place.”