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Exhaustion didn't seem like the right way to describe the way Din felt after Nevarro. Understandable, he supposed, after being blown up, humiliated, and discovering his entire covert had revealed themselves. The bacta that the IG droid had sprayed him with helped his head, at least, but every movement ached something deep in his core that he couldn't place and the shame that followed him was unbearable. Despite the one to have seen him not being… alive exactly, he couldn't help but think he had disgraced his people. He never removed the helmet for anyone, even if it was only a droid and even if he was likely to die.
His eyelids begged to stay closed with every blink and his limbs felt heavy as he started charting a course to… he wasn't sure. Anywhere else. First and foremost, he truly just wanted to rest. He could begin his search for both other mandalorians and the true family for the kid after he had, at the very least, slept.
The kid made a noise, and without thinking Din unscrewed the small metal sphere and reached back to hand it to him. He made what he could only describe as a displeased noise and dropped it the moment it was given to him.
He breathed deeply. "What?"
The child reached out it's tiny hands and babbled something. He wasn't good at this, how was he meant to know what this child wanted? As important as the foundlings were, he hadn't often interacted with them as little as he was at the covert. He reached his own hand back towards him, and the kid gripped two of his fingers, absently squeezing them.
Din tried to think of when he was young, before he had been taken in by the mandalorians. The way he clung to his parents and their friends at every chance and feared being away from someone he trusted for too long. The terror that had filled him when those metal doors were shut and he never saw their faces again. He thought of the mandalorians, and how despite their heavily armored exterior they had taken him in with every bit of love and softness they had in their hearts. How their comfort stood beside him and he grew to trust them as his people. The support that had followed him as he became an adult, the children who grew up with him as if his siblings. The men and women who where there at his side even if it meant they lost their home.
Was it possible that this kid saw him in the same way? Someone to trust, someone who would protect him?
He carefully took the kid in his hands, placing him between the crook of his elbow and his side. It cooed but didn't settle. He clamored to his lap, pressing his head just below Din's cuirass. He felt himself flinch. He hadn't been touched so kindly in… he wasn't sure how long. It was comforting in a way that almost made him afraid. The kid still wouldn't settle, moving his arms and stumbling around the small space of his lap. He yawned, big with drooping eyes. Din couldn't help his own.
"You're right." He murmured. "We should get some rest."
Din slept in the Razor Crest often. He had a very small excuse for a bed where he and the child slept alone while he navigated or when he left him by himself. He opened the panel and the two went inside. The armor was heavy and sore against his body after everything, but he wasn't sure he had the energy to remove it. Instead, he laid down in the confined, curled up way that he could and placed the kid behind him where he lay on his side.
He breathed deeply. He didn't often sleep particularly well; there were very few places he could relax enough to have a sleep deep enough to feel truly rested. He had felt at ease on Mandalore, as a child, but once it was occupied that ease soon left. The covert was the only other place since then that he had felt truly calm enough to sleep like the dead. Of course, he hardly slep there. For years, he was on bounties and took few days, if any, between them. Once his people were moved to Nevarro, he hardly saw them.
He felt a small hand prod at his lower back. The kid was trying to climb on top of him. Before he could turn to look at him, he was already clamoring over his waist and waddling to his chest.
He smiled softly underneath the helmet. He liked the kid, even if a part of him tried to tell him he shouldn't. He would have to go to his own people, but at least for now… "What are you doing, huh?" He made another babbling noise and lay close to him. "Tired?"
The kid scooted towards him, nuzzling his face into his neck. Din took a shaky breath. It was nice, as much as he didn't want to think it, to be cherished by something so small. His little hands clung to the fabric at the base of his neck tightly, and the small warmth was something that hadn't been familiar to him in a long time.
Slowly, Din moved his hand to the child's back, a gesture as gentle as he could manage. He heard him yawn again, and he nuzzle ever closer. He was happy. Warm. Safe. He wondered if this was how others had felt when he was small. Had his parents felt such warmth when he leaned into their shoulders? Had the alor who took him in been so full of joy when they hugged him tight to their chest? Was it possible that, even if only for a short time, he could once again have a family?
A ridiculous thought. This child had to return to it's people. He had to be with those who were his own kind.
You are a clan of two.
The armorer's words struck him once more. A clan of two, he thought. It could only be for a short time. He knew that this child would not be his clan for long; only until he found someone who could take care of him properly. But at least for the moment… this kid trusted him. He believed that he could hold himself close to Din's chest as he slept, and he knew that he would be protected under his care.
Din ran his thumb in circles on the kid's back. The warmth had spread far beyond what a child so small could offer. It was his duty to protect this him. To nurture him. Even if only until he could return to his people.
"A clan of two."
He hoped that the whispered words were something that the child could understand, but even if he didn't, the hands pressed tight above his chestplate told him that the knew, at least in part, exactly what he wanted to convey.