Din Djarin/Mando/The Mandalorian: One Shots, Imagines, etc.

Good Idea, Kid

A/N: requested by pokititos - puse una traducción en español debajo del inglés para ti por cierto, no sé qué tan precisa será, lo siento!!

Warnings: weapons, violence, i think that's it, maybe swearing idk i cant remember

Transalations: mesh'la = beautiful

Word count: 1416

You smooth down your gown, checking in the mirror that your makeup isn't smudged. Nerves bubble in your stomach - you can't remember the last time you were as dressed up as this, and you feel much more comfortable in your standard bounty hunting outfit: boots, cargo pants, and a white blouse with a jacket over the top. Your dress is red silk, falling in a smooth cascade which ends in a pool on the floor to hide the fact that you're still wearing your dusty, scuffed boots - you couldn't deal with the idea of wearing stilettos or any kind of heels, and you'd decided wearing boots underneath couldn't hurt.

'Din?' You call to your hunting partner. 'You ready?'
'Yup,' he calls, and you step out of the 'fresher, grinning at him.

You never thought you'd see the day when Din Djarin himself wore a full suit, complete with a tux and a bow tie which is very wonkily tied. The Mandalorian himself is staring at you, helmet tilted slightly down which signals to you that his eyes are not on your face. His hand fists at his side when you smile, the crimson of your lipstick bright and tempting.

'Mesh'la,' he whispers in Mando'a, and although you don't know what it means, you sense that it's a compliment.
'You're not so bad yourself,' you tease.

Walking over and undoing his bow tie with nimble fingers so you can redo it, you grin as he stumbles back a bit at your proximity, and when he swallows, his exposed Adam's apple bobs nervously. Casually, you trail your fingers down his chest, pretending to smooth down his suit, hiding another smirk as he squirms, suddenly shy. It's adorable, the way he almost cringes, so unused to contact which isn't violent. Linking your arm through his, you wink at him.

'So, how's it feel to be my fake date while we sneak into this party for the bounty?'
He chuckles. 'Wizard.'

• ────── ✾ ────── •

By the time you're half an hour into the party, you're desperately glad that you powdered your face because underneath, your face is red hot. And no, it has nothing to do with the heat. It has to do with the closeness of the Mandalorian, who looks sharp and way too attractive in his tuxedo; it has to do with your interlocked fingers as you waltz together, alone but in a room packed with people; it has to do with the way his helmet is angled towards you, the abyss of his T-shaped visor boring into you.

'You know,' you say, keeping the tremble out of your voice. 'I kind of like this.'
He's silent for a moment. 'The bounty's behind your right shoulder. Don't look.'
You look. 'Where?'
'I said, don't look,' he hisses.
You shrug. 'I looked anyway. He is there.'
'I already told you that - ' Din cuts himself off. 'He's leaving.'
'Well, let's go, then,' you reply, tugging at his fingers and angling yourself so that you're waltzing in the bounty's direction.

You glance back up at Din and find him staring at you. His fingers tighten infinitesimally around yours, and you would put it down to your imagination if his gaze wasn't burning into your skin. He leans in, barely, but you notice that movement too, and you arch your neck up, unsure what your goal is but just needing to be closer to him. You wonder if he can smell your perfume under that helmet - most likely, he can, there's probably some sensor or contraption that ensures he can smell and most likely enhances his senses. You wonder if he's being driven mad by your scent in the same way you are with his, and you wonder if his heart quickens when he catches your fragrance laced in the pillows like yours does.