Narudar ━━ 𝘋𝘐𝘕 𝘋𝘑𝘈𝘙𝘐𝘕.

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Delay

Your initial reaction was to search for another blanket. This one was too... thin. Hardly sustained your body heat. Quietly, you stood to seek them although your motions felt... sluggish and sloppy, each jerk of your head accompanied by a painful thump, hands strictly gripping your shivering self. Limited visibility within the dark cockpit caused you to stumble, once—hence making you completely lose your balance, and collide face-first with the floor. The stiff, frigid floor. You nearly cursed. Loudly. But considering others were asleep, you merely groaned as silently as you could and decided to literally lay there. For a few brief seconds. Plainly because you lacked energy, despite the hours you'd previously slept. Your desire to sleep overpowered your need to return to the comfort of your seat—and for a moment, you vaguely considered the idea of easily falling asleep then and there.

But then you heard a sound—presumably Din—and opted to, reluctantly, rise back up. Muscles sore and skull pounding, you turned to meet with the Mandalorian, heavy eyes connecting with his black visor. The stars behind him, painting his beskar and reflecting off the silver steel, were the sole elements allowing you to see him; otherwise, you would've slammed into his armored chest and then you truly would've shouted some damn colorful words. Din's voice rung through the cockpit, hushed and gentle so as to not wake the Frog Lady or the Child (who had surprisingly remained asleep even after your noisy fall).

"Why are you up?"

"I was just... trying to find another blanket," you mumbled. The hoarseness that scratched your throat was noticed then, prominent and irritating. Instinctively, your fingers grasped your arms, digging into the soft fabric of your borrowed shirt. "I-It's freezing in here."

Attempting to clear your throat several times, you lifted a palm to your trachea without realizing Din had stepped away momentarily to retrieve an additional set of blankets. Only when you felt his grip on your upper arm did you notice, reacting to his gentle tug—this time, leading you himself back to your seat in case you tripped again. Once settled back into the chair, you wrapped yourself in your first blanket before Din draped the second over your shivering figure—and he froze. Palms on both sides of your arms, he paused for a second, causing you to open your mouth in order to question him. Until he spoke first, "You're shaking."

"Obviously, y-your heater sucks," you retorted, shrugging his hands off. "You need a new one. Desperately."

He removed a single glove from his hand, without answering. Before you could even comprehend what he was planning on doing, he raised an uncovered hand to your forehead—and now it was your turn to freeze.

"You're hot."

Your face flushed. Not really because of of his statement (because, of course, you knew what he truly meant by that), but more because of the... touching. The bare contact, skin-on-skin, was what had stunned you for a split second. Although swiftly afterwards, you chuckled.

"T-thanks. Did you just notice this, or...?"

Din, though, refused to follow along with your joke. He was no fun.

"That's not what I meant."

You frowned, falsely. "Ouch. That hurt, Mando."

He altered the subject again, instead focusing on the real issue. "You're sick."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I picked up on that already."

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling okay?" he questioned, returning to his seat—and very carefully grabbing the sleeping Child who occupied his chair, before sitting back down and placing the infant on his shoulder instead. The baby had surprisingly stayed asleep, eyes shut closed and ears drooping down as his face rested on the Mandalorian's shoulder. You almost smiled. He was cute.