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“Argh. Dank farrik!” He tried to muffle his curse but she heard him nevertheless.
Raising her head from the book she was reading, she looked over to the Mandalorian trying to subtly shift in his pilot chair. “You okay?”
“Sure,” came the emotionless response from under the helmet. She scrutinized him for a moment longer but the impenetrable barrier between his face and his surroundings made it impossible to detect his true feelings. Shrugging she turned back to her book but decided to keep an eye on Mando. It wasn’t the first time over the past few days that he seemed distracted, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be in pain. Ever since he had returned to the ship with his latest bounty and taken them to space to fly back to Nevarro, something about him felt off. She had not seen any tears in his clothes or obvious blood-stains, so maybe she was just imagining things, but better safe than sorry.
“I’ll go and get Grogu ready for bed,” she said after a while, picking up the kid who had been happily playing with his favourite silver ball. “If you come down in about half an hour, our dinner will be ready as well.”
“Okay.”
She left the cockpit and carried Grogu down to the little kitchen.
“I don’t care what he says, something’s wrong with your dad,” she said as she placed Grogu in his chair and put a bowl of stew in front of him. “You can sense it too, don’t you?”
Cooing quietly, Grogu looked up to her and wiggled his ears before starting to slurp down the soup.
“I knew it. It’s nothing serious though, is it?”
Without putting the bowl down, Grogu slightly shook his head.
“Good. I’ll still make sure he goes and sees a doctor as soon as we arrive on Nevarro.”
She busied herself with tidying up the kitchen until Grogu had finished his meal and she could bring him to his little cot.
When she returned, Mando was already there filling two bowls with stew.
“Thanks,” she said, taking one of the bowls from him and sitting down at the table while Mando remained at the counter. By now, they were used to eating with their backs to each other, so they could stay in the same room and Mando could still take off his helmet without having to fear to compromise his creed.
For a while they ate in silence, until…
“Urrgh…”
“Alright, that’s enough,” she snapped, putting her bowl down on the table with a loud clank. “You are hurt and I want to know where and how badly.”
“I told you, it’s nothing,” he growled behind her, his unfiltered voice as always sending a little tingle through her body but she tried to ignore it.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing. Why won't you tell me?!”
“Because it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine!”
“Maker, you are so stubborn! Put on your helmet, I want to turn around and yell at you!”
“It would be better for me to not put the helmet back on, then.”
“This isn’t funny, Mando. Don’t test me.”
“Alright, fine.” She heard the scrape of metal over the countertop and then he spoke again. “You can turn around.”
She turned, facing once again the blank shield of his T-visor. “Why won't you tell me where you’re hurt? I could help you.”
“It’s not your job to help me. You’re here to take care of the kid.”
“And yet I feel like I’m taking care of two babies here.”
He groaned in annoyance and even without seeing his face, she knew he was rolling his eyes. “You’re such a pain in the ass. It’s my back, okay? When I captured that Mythrol the other day, I must have pulled a muscle or something. It’s nothing to worry about. Give it a few days and it will heal by itself.”
“But you’re in pain,” she said, looking at him imploringly. “Let me help you. Maybe a massage could at least relief some of the tension.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. How is this supposed to work through the suit?”
“I’m not allowed to see your face but that doesn’t mean you can’t take off your armour. Right?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I guess so…”
She smiled softly and got up. “I promise, I’ll be careful.”
He sighed, dropping his head slightly. “I know. Just … let me go to the ‘fresher first. After a day in the suit…”
“Sure. I’ll wait for you in my bunk.”
He left and she stayed behind, only slowly realising what just had happened. Had she really invited her fellow traveller – her employer! to be more precise – to take off his armour and come to her bunk? Was she out of her mind? What would he be thinking?!
No, no, she tried to calm herself. There was nothing to worry about. This was only her little crush on him making her overly critical. There was no way he saw this as anything else than a friend trying to help another friend who was in pain.
And that really was all it was. Completely harmless.
Still she couldn’t quite shake her anxiousness as she sat in her bunk a few minutes later, waiting for him to return from the ‘fresher.
When his steps finally approached the small room, they stopped outside, his voice under the helmet slightly uncertain. “You sure this is a good idea?”
“What?” she smiled, trying to lighten the mood and calm down her rapidly fluttering nerves. “Are you afraid I’m going to break you?”
“No, you just might… Never mind.” He stepped into the doorway and she had to really check herself to not show her surprise too clearly.
He was only wearing the brown pants of his flight suit, suspenders hanging down at his sides, a simple white long-sleeved shirt covering his upper body. Despite the lack of his armour, he had lost nothing of his broadness, somehow looking even stronger and more intimidating without the layers of Beskar usually covering him.
Clearing her throat, she lightly patted the bed in front of her. “Sit down.”
He slowly stepped closer and sat down at the edge of the bed with his back turned towards her. With the helmet still in place, it was hard to tell of course but something told her that the tension in his shoulders was not just from a bunch of sore muscles. Was he nervous too? Well, of course he was. It must be nerve-wrecking for him to show himself without his armour. She really had not thought this through.
“Listen, if this is too far out of your comfort zone, you can tell me,” she said softly, looking at his muscles shifting anxiously beneath his shirt. “No matter what I said, I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.”
“No,” he slightly shook his head. “It’s okay. I trust you.”
The whirl of butterflies in her stomach took a moment to settle back down again, then she carefully shuffled closer on her knees, bracing herself to touch him for the first time. “Where exactly does it hurt?”
“Somewhere … here,” he murmured, twisting his arm to point at the area along the right side of his spine.
“Okay. Tell me if it’s too much.”
With that she took a deep breath and pressed down her thumb into the rock-hard muscle.
A sharp hiss escaped him.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean –“
“No. Go on. That’s the exact spot.”
“Okay.”
She continued kneading and pushing at his back, pressing down for a while at areas that were particularly hard, slowly feeling them soften beneath her touch. She worked quietly, the silence of the small room only occasionally interrupted by a muffled grunt or hiss coming from the Mandalorian.
“Wait,” he suddenly said and she immediately drew her hands back.
“What is it? Was it too much? Am I being too hard?”
“No.” Without turning around, he reached behind him to grab the back of his long-sleeved shirt and pull it over his head.
Holding her breath, she watched wide-eyed as the retreating shirt slowly revealed the golden skin of his back to her. And more.
“Mando…” Without thinking, she tentatively let her fingers brush over the countless lines of white scars that covered his upper body, her heart clenching up at the thought of the horrors he had faced that had caused those marks.
Feeling him shudder beneath her touch, she quickly pulled back. “Sorry. I didn’t –“
“It’s okay, cyar’ika.” His voice was surprisingly soft and a flash of heat ran through her when he reassuringly settled his big hand on her thigh and left it there. “I wanted you to see them.”
“I always knew you’d get wounded in your battles,” she said quietly, tracing a round scar on his right shoulder blade that was probably from a blaster shot, “despite your armour but … these are a lot.”
He shrugged. “It’s part of the job.”
“Some of these must have been really bad wounds. And you had to go through all of them alone?”
“Mostly. Yeah. Before I found Grogu, I was always alone.”
She felt a tear running down her cheek, her heart aching for him, and she instinctively leaned forward to press a warm, soft kiss to a scar on his back. His hand on her thigh flexed slightly but he didn’t say anything, giving her the courage to continue.
“I wish I could have been there,” she whispered, kissing down on another scar. “I wish you didn’t have to go through all this alone.”
“You’re here now,” he rasped, turning slightly to pull her into his lap.
Straddling him, she looked up to where she knew his eyes met hers behind the visor, shuddering slightly when his thumb came up to gently wipe away her tears.
“And I thank the Maker every day for your decision to join me and the kid on our crazy ride. I know I never show this enough but I don’t know what I would do without you. Your mere presence makes everything better – and I'm eternally grateful that you’re headstrong enough to kick my stubborn ass in the right direction when necessary.”
Smiling through her tears, she placed her hands on the sides of his helmet. “It’s my genuine pleasure, Mando.”
He chuckled softly. “Din. My name is Din Djarin.”
The smile spreading on her face could have brightened the darkest room but before she could say anything, he said, “Computer: turn off the light.”
She yelped in surprise when everything around them suddenly turned pitch black. Then she felt his big hands gently wrap around her wrists and help her pull the helmet from his head before placing it down on the bed beside them.
Her heart was suddenly beating so loudly that she was convinced he could hear it, and she had to fight the impulse to press her eyes shut, even though she really couldn’t see a single thing.
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, his warm breath fanning against her cheek, his large palms coming up again to cup her face.
“Yes,” she breathed, uncertain how to behave. “Can I – can I touch you as well?”
“Yes.”
Her fingers trembling slightly she raised her hands to blindly map out the features of the man she had loved for months without ever seeing his face. Brushing along a strong, stubble-covered jaw she made her way to the back of his head, fingers sinking into a wild mob of soft curls.
“Din?”
“Yes, cyar’ika?”
“What colour is your hair?”
“Brown.”
She sighed softly, letting a strand of hair run through her fingers. “And your eyes?”
“Brown as well.”
“I love brown eyes.”
She could hear him smile as his thumbs gently stroked her cheeks. “Lucky me.”
They were quiet for a moment as she tried to piece together the information she had so unexpectedly gotten to a picture of the man in front of her.
“One more question, Din.”
“Anything you want, cyar’ika.”
“What does cyar’ika mean?”
“Oh.” She could feel him tense slightly.
“I can ask the board computer…”
“No, I – but you have to promise me not to be mad. I didn’t mean…”
“Is it that bad?”
“No, it’s… it means … beloved.”
She stared at him in the darkness, her heart thundering in her chest, fingers gripping his hair a little tighter. “And you didn’t mean it like that?”
He was quiet for a moment before she could feel him square his shoulders, his hands on her face pulling her closer. “Yes. I meant it exactly like that.”
She couldn’t tell which one of them closed the gap between them first. A strong nose pressing into her cheek, she could feel nothing but his warm, soft lips engulfing hers, a moustache tickling her slightly, as their mouths moved against each other like they had been made for this exact moment, his taste and warmth the only things she wanted to feel for the rest of eternity.