On day four of recovery, Din asked for permission to bathe himself in the guest refresher. You thought he'd never ask. There were several instances where you considered making a comment about his questionable personal hygiene, but decided against it. He probably didn't have time to bathe daily, which meant showers were a luxury. Being wounded made showering even more important.
To convince him not to put his filthy flight suit back on after he was clean, you used the excuse of needing to repair the tear in the side of it. Surprisingly, it worked and you soon found yourself picking out an outfit for him from your wardrobe.
Banx gives you a judgmental look from his armchair throne as you keep the child occupied in the living room. He still wasn't sure what to think of Din. You'd be lying if you said you weren't at least a tad bit excited to see what Din looked like in civilian clothes.
Soon enough, Din's voice carries softly down the hall as he calls your name. He must be wondering where you've gone. You smile and bring the child into your lap.
"Do you need help?" You call back, trying your best to stifle a snicker.
"Yes..." was his reluctant reply.
Leaving the child to play in the living room, you make your way down the hall and turn into the guest bedroom. The problem is pretty obvious: Din doesn't know how to button a shirt. Also, the shirt you've given him fits in some places, but not in others. His shoulders were much broader than yours, which made things a bit tight.
Still, the outfit was perfect even with his helmet. You could actually see the shape of his body without it being hidden under layers of cloth and armor. He stood about the same height as you—maybe half an inch shorter—and was far more muscular. Not that you weren't muscular, though. Just not on the same level as him.
"I've never done this before." He admits as you approach, grateful that you couldn't see the embarrassment in his expression.
"That's okay. Here, let me help." You say, gently guiding his hands away from the shirt so you could button it up for him. Once you reach the top and leave a little breathing room near his neck, you adjust his collar as well. "There. How's that feel?"
He brushes his hand down the front of the shirt, then lifts his gaze to meet yours.
"Good. T-Thank you." His voice quivers ever so slightly as he speaks and he quickly clears his throat to play it off, but you notice it before he's able to.
You tilt your head and frown a bit. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He abruptly answers, then looks away.
Before you can press him for the truth, there's a knock on your front door. Din tenses, his hand instinctively reaching for the blaster on his hip that wasn't there.
"It's okay." You reassure him. "It's probably someone who needs help."
He stares for a moment, then slowly relaxes his arm. He'd forgotten that you were a doctor and that other people may show up looking for medical treatment. The thought of having strangers in the house made him nervous, but he wouldn't let anything happen to you or the child.
"Where's the kid?" He asks.
"In the living room." You gesture over your shoulder with your thumb. "You can grab him and go hang out somewhere while I take care of this, if you want."
He nods and brushes your shoulder as he steps around you. The touch awakens little butterflies in your stomach, but you ignore the feeling and head to the front door.
You recognize the mother and son standing on the front porch. The boy has a nasty cut on his forearm with red streaks of blood spilling from it. It doesn't look that bad. Nothing a few stitches can't fix.
"How'd that happen, Lou?" You question the boy as his mother, Rhea, ushers him inside.
Lou seems content with staying quiet until Rhea gives him a look. He huffs and shakes his head, knowing there was no getting out of it.
"I tried to ride the speeder bike again." He mutters.
"By himself." Rhea adds in a sharp tone. "I thought I made it clear that you are not to ride that bike unless your father is with you!"
"But he's never home! I'm ten years old, I can ride by myself!" Lou retorts.
You bring them into a sitting area located just off the side of the dining room, where they should be out of sight. A chuckle escapes as you listen to them bicker. It reminds you of the way you used to argue with your mother as a young boy.
"I'd listen to your mother if I were you." You say once you return with your medkit. "I did stupid things when I was a boy too and learned pretty quickly that I wasn't as indestructible as I thought I was."
"Did you try to ride a speeder bike too?" Lou curiously inquires.
You smile, pleased that your distraction was working. He doesn't even notice you numbing the area around his wound as you prepare to clean and stitch it up.
"Yes I did, except I chose to sneak out at night. It's hard to drive when you can't see anything." You joke around, focusing on wiping the blood from Lou's skin. "Long story short, I broke my arm and never snuck out again."
To make sure Lou stayed calm, you kept the conversation going so he'd be focused on something else. Occasionally Rhea would chime in, but she was quiet for the most part. It took five stitches to close the wound, which was a walk in the park for you.
As you pack up your medkit, Lou's gaze wanders over to the doorway. To his surprise, what looks to be a little gremlin runs by while giggling.
"Mom, look!" He cries, pointing at the creature.
Your head snaps up as you hear a few hushed curses as well as hasty footsteps coming down the hall. Din comes into view and manages to catch the child before he can run any further, but now he stands awkwardly in the doorway as Rhea and Lou stare in utter shock.
"Di—" You catch yourself before Din's name can escape through your lips.
"Who is this?" Rhea asks once she gets over her initial shock. "One of your patients?"
You wrack your brain for a suitable answer. "Yeah." The word practically forces its way out. "I took him in a few days ago."
Din dips his head in greeting as he pulls the child to his chest. The little shit is still giggling, like he knew what he did was wrong and would do it again in a heartbeat.
"A Mandalorian... I've only heard the stories." Rhea says, her gaze lingering on Din's helmet before she looks him up and down. "I think I've seen that shirt before. Is he wearing your clothes?"
Based on the look she gives you as she says that, you know she's thinking that the situation implied something else. Although it wasn't true, a small part of you wished it was.
"I-I'm repairing something for him, so I thought that would be a suitable solution." You manage to say without stuttering too much, though you cannot control the nervous quiver in your voice.
She doesn't look convinced, but continues anyway. "And what exactly is... that?" She gestures to the child with an expression of slight disgust.
Fuck. How am I going to explain that one?
"He.. uh... He got lost. Yeah. He got lost from his family and Mando here was trying to bring him back when he got jumped by some thugs." You explain, simultaneously giving Din an anxious side-glance. "Cute kid, isn't he?"
He doesn't react, so you assume he didn't mind.
"I.. suppose so." Rhea looks as if she's unsure of her answer, but doesn't take it back. Instead, she turns to Lou and ruffles his hair a bit. "Well, we've taken enough of your time. Thanks again for your help."
You let out a soft sigh. "Of course. Just keep the stitches clean and watch out for swelling. Also, make sure you manage his pain, alright? You know the drill."
"That I do." Rhea says with a smile. Din steps aside as she walks to the doorway with Lou. "Have a good day."
"You too." You reply, waiting to hear the door close before you let out a louder sigh of relief.
Maker, that could've gone so much worse.
"Why did she look at you like that?" Din suddenly asks after a moment has passed.
You glance over at him. "Like what?"
"Like she was being judgmental."
His concern surprised you, but you genuinely thought he didn't catch the meaning behind that look—the silent question that was too embarrassing to even think about despite your feelings toward him.
"As I mentioned before, we don't see a lot of bounty hunters like you around these parts. Most people are farmers and ranchers with traditional beliefs." You tell him as you rise to your feet. "That being said, if they see someone wearing someone else's clothes while also being in their home, they assume that person has slept with them."
He stares at you for what feels like hours. Your gut twists with worry the longer he stays silent. Were you too blunt? What was he thinking right now? A majority of the town knew you were gay, but he didn't know that. Did he?
Finally, Din snaps out of his apparent trance and looks away.
"We need to talk." He says as he turns to leave. "Away from the kid."
Fear tightens the knot in your stomach. You can't help but think you've upset him. You went too far and now he's pulling away. This always seemed to happen when you gained feelings for someone.
Nice job. You fucked it up.
•
•
•
"Din, I'm sorry. I didn't think about what it might've implied—"
"That was a set-up, wasn't it? You did that on purpose."
"What?" You sputter in disbelief. "It's not— No! I would never do that! How could I have done that on purpose if I didn't even know they were coming? More importantly, why would I do that? I thought you trusted me!"
Din pushes his helmet into his hands and breathes hard. "I do! I just..."
You watch him with a worried gaze. "Din, talk to me... I need to know what's bothering you so I can try to fix it."
"You can't fix it." He mutters, still not meeting your gaze. "Not when you're the one making it worse."
Although it wasn't his intent, his words still hurt. They were a wake up call—a warning that you were getting too close. You would get hurt again, he'd be hurt in the process, and you would be back at square one. Those had been some of the darkest days of your life. You couldn't go back there. You wouldn't.
But you couldn't let him go, either.
"I'm sorry." You murmur, staring at your hands as they fidget in your lap. After a few moments, you slowly lift your head to look at him. "Would you mind taking a walk with me? There's something I want to show you."
He pulls his hands away from his helmet and sits back, his hidden gaze trained on you. At first, he doesn't say a word. You wonder if he'll even reply.
"Alright." His voice is so soft that it barely passes through the modulator of his helmet. "Perhaps some fresh air will help."
"Yeah." You force a smile and rise from your chair, beckoning for him to follow you to the back porch. "Come on."
You take him beyond the front porch and across the lawn, parallel with the livestock pasture. He runs his hand along the fence as he walks past it. The setting sun casts an orange glow across his beskar helmet.
He follows you through the thorny underbrush and up the steady incline. Upon reaching the top of the hill, you lead him towards the edge of the drop-off, where a flat-faced rock stands tall and dark against the horizon.
Din briefly takes in the view, then speaks. "What did you want to show me?"
You approach the rock and brush your fingertips across its surface until they reach a pair of initials carved into the stone.
"I used to date someone who was a lot like you." You say, finding it hard not to smile at the memories that surfaced. The good ones. "He was a bit grumpy, but kind and sweet once you got to know him. We dated for a while. It was the happiest I had ever been."
"What happened?" He asks, almost hesitantly.
The smile slowly fades from your face. "A few years ago, I was coming home from town. We were going to celebrate my birthday together in private before the actual party was held by my family." You explain, trying to keep your voice from shaking.
Din moves closer as you speak, trying to provide comfort.
"I walked in on him making out with the friend I 'didn't need to worry about'." You swallow thickly and continue. "He confessed that he'd been seeing him behind my back for several months and then blamed me for making him cheat because I wasn't meeting his needs. I didn't know what to do, so I kicked him out. I haven't seen him since."
"That's very personal. Why are you telling me this?"
He was asking out of curiosity, not annoyance, so you reacted accordingly. A half-hearted chuckle slips past your lips.
"To be honest, I don't know. I guess I just needed to talk about it with someone." You murmur, focusing on the distant sunset.
"And you trusted me enough to be that person?"
He sounds genuinely surprised, like he wasn't expecting to be trusted during such a vulnerable moment. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that his reaction wasn't negative in the slightest, which meant that he cared. Even if it was just a little bit, he still cared.
"I suppose I did." You reply, glancing at him with a slight smile. "I'm sorry, I must be boring you with my relationship troubles."
"No, it's—" He starts to speak, then fumbles over his words. "I-It's okay. I don't mind."
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you force yourself to maintain eye contact. "Have you ever fallen in love?"
There's a pause, during which his gaze never leaves you. You know he's nervous just by the way he anxiously shifts his weight. Even if he won't verbally express it, his actions speak louder than words.
"No." He finally says, averting his gaze to watch the sun dip below the horizon.
You nod and turn toward the horizon as well. "I hope you do, someday. It's a wonderful feeling." A soft sigh escapes through your parted lips. "Just make sure they're the right person before you think about getting serious. Things won't go well if you don't."
He let your words brew in his mind. Would he ever have the courage to tell you the truth? To admit his feelings for you?
That was up to him.