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

You're Not The Only One pt. 2

A/N: requested by MyNocturnalSerenade_ and Ghost_Guard_13 <3

Warnings: self harm, tasers, burns, angst (haha this was supposed to be fluff), it gets more cute towards the end tho,

Word count: 788 (bahhaha it's so short compared to the first part)

You don't ever remember being so happy to see a ship. But now, as a familiar ship, glinting silver in the sunlight, touches down in your hangar, your face aches with how wide your smile stretches. The Razor Crest has been a regular appearance in the last few months, and each time it touches down, the burden you carry with you seems to disappear. Dropping the spanner in your hand, you race out into the sun as the cargo ramp lowers, not breaking your stride as you launch yourself at him, your bell like laughter ringing in harmony with his. He catches you in his arms, lifting your feet off the floor as he holds you tight to him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you relax into his grip, breathing in his scent.

'How are you?' Din asks.
You smile. 'Good. Better now that you're here.'

Still looking at you, the T-shape of his visor boring into you, he reaches down and intertwines your fingers with his, lifting up your arm and pushing back your sleeve. The happiness sours on your tongue, and you look away, shame dyeing your cheeks red. Your other hand fists by your side, and you can't bear to meet his gaze as he stares down at the fresh wounds on your skin; less frequent than before, only two or three, but still, they aren't gone.

'Why did you have to look?' You whisper, your voice breaking as you pull out of his grasp.
'I want to look after you,' he answers simply. 'I want you to look after yourself.'
'Why does it matter to you, Din?' You demand. 'Why do you want that?'
He pauses. 'You know why.'

You do. You heard him the first time you met - he was the first person who found out about the taser, he told you about how he kept himself awake, and somehow you still feel bitter that he had to check. Swiping tears out of your eyes, you turn away from him, waiting for him to touch your shoulder, do anything, but he just stands behind you, his presence large and expectant behind you. He's waiting for you to turn to him, because he knows you inevitably will, and for a moment, it hurts you deep inside that he knows you so intimately, knows every facet of your soul, and you spin around.

'Do you not trust me, Din?' You spit. 'Will you check my wrists every time you land your damned ship in this hangar? Because if so, get out, and don't come back.'

You stare up at him, and he towers at you, stoic and impossibly still. You feel terribly small, your words feel stupid and useless, bouncing off his beskar and lodging right back into you. The sunlight breaks through the clouds above and begins to reflect off his armour and into your eyes, and you tell yourself it's that that is making your eyes begin to water. You despise the way he's just standing there, lit by a column of golden light, as you crumble before him, the distance between you too far to cross.

'I trust you with my life,' he says softly. 'I just don't trust you with your own.'

And then he holds out his arms again, and it's like the first time. You're falling, and he's catching you, holding you tight and stroking your hair, grounding you and holding you down, keeping you from floating away in a sky of pain and sleepless nights. Whispering reassurance in your ear, he rocks you, his touch a sweet, steadying comfort.

'You're okay,' he whispers. 'It's okay, I'm proud of you, cyar'ika. I know it's hard to just stop, and you did so good, alright?' Gently, he prises you off him, holding you at arms' length and making sure you look at him. 'You know I can't destroy every single torch and whatever tools you use to solder ships,' he murmurs. 'So I want you to comm me every time you feel the urge to use them on yourself, and maybe we can keep you awake by talking together, okay?'
You nod. 'O - okay.'
He wipes your tears away with the back of his hand. 'I care about you a lot, sweetheart. I - I don't like to see you hurt.'

You stare up at him, his words washing over you, slowly circling in your thoughts. Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart. Your heart swells, and you curl your arms around him again, resting your head on his chest and threading your fingers through his.

'I - I care about you too, Din.'

And as he leans down, gently touching his forehead to yours, you know that under his helmet, his smile mirrors yours.