chapter 32: the layover •••
The Razor Crest is in the worst shape you've ever seen it when you get back to port, even with everything the Mon Calamari tried to do for it. You spend your time attempting to clean up the inside of the hull as Din manages to get your poor home out of the atmosphere, somehow even launching into hyperspace along the way. You're surprised Din and the baby still haven't returned after many minutes with the familiar hum of hyperspace filling the space, so when you finish your current task of reorganizing the boxes that have been strewn around the area, you ascend your way to the cockpit.
As soon as you enter, you see a whimpering baby in the arms of Din, who's still fully suited as he rocks him in vain. You furrow your brow in concern, approaching the two of them with a tightened chest. "What's wrong?" you question, your maternal instincts at an all-time high as the baby's eyes glitter with tears he refuses to shed.
"Someone had an accident," Din informs you, his modulated voice almost guilty as his visor remains fixed on the baby. He offers a gloved finger that the little one immediately takes between his hands, his tiny fingers gripping onto it for dear life as he releases a sad coo.
"What do you mean?" You don't hide the concern from your tone.
Din takes a breath, as if he's hesitant to disclose the information to you. You cross your arms, staring at him with expectation until he sighs and looks up at you. "He, uh... he was helping me with some wiring, when he—."
"Din Djarin, I know you weren't making our child play with wires that could easily electrocute him." You cut him off with disbelief, raising your brow as Din's helmet tilts at you in a guilty manner.
"Rid'ika, I swear, he wanted to—."
"Din!" Your exclamation is just as much full of slight amusement as it is chastisement. You gently take the baby from his arms, letting his little fingers close around the fabric of your shirt as you shake your head at your riduur. "He might be powerful, but he's just a baby."
"I know, I just..." Din trails off, and you watch as his armored shoulders start to fall forward just a bit, "he really wanted to help, and I... really wanted to make him happy." His voice breaks on the last phrase, making your heart sink into your stomach as your gaze quickly shifts back to the baby. He's already fast asleep in your arms, healed from whatever the wires had done. Now, the other member of your clan needs healing, so you look up at him with a sympathetic gaze.
"I'm gonna put the little one to bed," you begin, your voice soft as you take a step closer to Din. "I want you to take off your armor so I can clean it for you and meet me down in the hull so I can make us some soup. Okay?"
Din nods, but before you have a chance to leave, one of his gloved hands takes a hold of your arm. You face him with a raised brow, his helmet soon meeting your forehead. Din's silent for a moment, his free hand rising to your cheek as he brushes his thumb over the skin there. "Thank you." The words are uttered so softly that they barely pass through his modulator, making you smile as you turn your face to kiss the palm of his gloved hand. You then step away, heading towards the ladder as you make your way down to the hull.
Once you've set the baby in his hammock within his own compartment, you set to work, digging through your supply of food as you get everything you need to heat up your soup. Though it's not as hearty as you'd like it to be, at least you know it's warm and substantial, enough to help Din make up for all the food he's been missing out on lately thanks to his inability to remove his helmet. You've gotten two bowls poured by the time Din joins you in the hull, and thankfully, your stomach doesn't seem to protest the smell of what you've placed in front of you.
Din sets his pile of beskar down and then sits beside you, letting you hand the bowl of soup to him as his brown eyes sparkle fondly at you. Your heart warms at the sight of them. "Thank you again, cyar'ika," Din says, making you giggle as he draws the first hungry sip from his soup.
"You don't need to thank me for doing what I'm meant to." Your smile is evident through your tone as you also begin to eat your soup, letting the broth warm your empty stomach in the best of ways. Before Din has a chance to protest, you keep speaking, making sure you hold Din's gaze as long as possible. "You seemed upset before, riduur."
That's when you lose Din's gaze, his eyes beginning to lose their sparkle as he focuses on the bowl in his hands. He doesn't speak for a moment, instead visibly swallowing hard before he forces another sip of soup down his throat. "It's... trivial, rid'ika." Din's hands nervously fidget with the bowl as he speaks, his voice uncharacteristically low.
You frown, moving closer to him until your side brushes against his. "Nothing that bothers you is 'trivial' to me, Din."
Din doesn't speak, instead letting a hand leave his bowl as it reaches for one of yours. You immediately offer it to him, letting him lace his fingers with yours as he stares at your entwined hands. He sighs deeply, and you give his hand a squeeze as he speaks. "We've been trying to find the little one's people for a while now. Our quest has always been to leave him with them. But now that we've finally found one of his own..." Din pauses, squeezing your hand back as he wills himself the strength to go on, "I'm not sure I'm ready to leave him."
A strong wave of simultaneous sympathy and sadness washes over you at his words. You've been feeling the same kind of dread, but you know it must be worse for Din. He's had the child for longer, even if it wasn't that much longer, and they've developed a bond so deep that it's hard for you to even imagine them ever separating. Still, you try to remain strong for Din, running your thumb over the back of his hand as you attempt to console him. "It's okay to feel that way, Din. You shouldn't feel guilty about it. You've both become very close. He's very much like a son to you, as you're like a father to him."
You watch Din's fingers drum against his cup of soup in an anxious manner as he contemplates your words for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low, his gaze still unable to meet yours. "Do you think it's been selfish of me, cyar'ika, to have known that I wasn't going to be able to keep him, yet to keep treating him as my son?"
"It's not selfish." Your words come quickly and firmly, rivaling the grip you take on his hand. "When you found the little one, you saw yourself in him. It was instant attachment. You just wanted to protect him the way you craved protection when all those things happened to you as a child—and that brought you even closer together. I think it's beautiful, Din, the way you've two bonded. I mean it."
Din's gaze finally meets yours, and your heart constricts at the way he's trying as hard as he can to keep his eyes dry. "Thank you." He clears his throat, taking another sip of his soup before he says more. "I just don't want to make this hard for him. If he's so attached to me, to us, he'll think he's being abandoned all over again."
"But these are his people, Din. He'll know them. And I'm confident that little menace is very, very smart, even if he tries to convince us otherwise sometimes."
Din chuckles at that, nodding as he gives your hand a squeeze. He sits in sweet silene for a few moments, his gaze searching yours. You start to raise your brow, briefly concerned by actions. It's when he sets the soup down on the floor of the hull and raises his free hand to your face that you realize he's simply lost himself in you for the countless time. Your chest warms as you start to smile, making Din smile as his fingertips gently brush over the side of your face. "You..." Din trails off, as if he can't even bring his thoughts to words.
You giggle, raising your eyebrow in a teasing manner. "I...?"
Din shakes his head, his cheeks reddening slightly as he gives your hand another squeeze. "You know the effect you have on me and the way I feel about you. Please, cyar'ika, be merciful."
You laugh at that, leaning forward to kiss him before you sit back where you were. "All is fair in—."
"Don't finish that sentence," Din scoffs playfully, watching as you finish off your soup. He sighs gently as he does the same, his thumb continuously brushing over the back of your hand as he glances around the hull. "Damn Mon Calamari. They don't know osik about fixing a ship."
You snort, setting your cup aside. "Yeah. Our poor Crest's been through some things lately, hasn't she?"
Din nods, twisting his lips as he keeps looking around. "Our home needs some repairs. I don't think she can make it to Corvus like this." He then looks back at you, a hint of a smile already on his lips before he continues. "I think we should take a pit stop somewhere we can trust."
You raise an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"
Din's smile grows. "How about Nevarro?"
As soon as he says the planet's name, your smile widens to a nearly impossible amount. "Nevarro?" Your repetition of Din's words is breathless, and you can see Din's eyes sparkle at the pure joy you radiate. "Do you mean it?"
Din shrugs, attempting to remain nonchalant. "They were always faithful to the Crest when I was working for the Guild."
You can't help releasing an excited squeal that makes Din laugh aloud. Cara had visited you both once on Sorgan after your marriage, telling you two about the plans for Nevarro and her new rank of marshal. You've missed her and Karga dearly ever since you left them on the planet, and the thought of getting to see them again is enough to have you smiling in such a way. "The baby's gonna be so—," you pause, stuttering when a dull ache spreads across your stomach, "h-happy."
Din notices this instantly, causing his joyful expression to drop as a concerned crease settles between his brows. "What is it, cyar'ika?"
You shake your head. "Nothing, nothing. I think it's just... a cramp. You know?"
Though he's not fully convinced, Din nods at you. "Okay." Gently, he drops your hand, positioning his on your waist as he eases you between his legs. With his back resting against a cargo box and yours resting against his chest, he sets his hands—large and warm—upon your stomach, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck before he speaks again. "Does that help at all?"
You can feel your heart practically burst as you turn your chin over your shoulder to face him more directly. Din's dark gaze is full of genuine care and concern, enough to make you want to melt away as you kiss him. "More than you know, Din."
Din smiles at that, encouraging you to rest completely against him as he leans his chin upon your head. "Good." He's silent for a few moments, though you can feel the breath he holds within his chest. When he continues, his voice is as soft yet decisive as ever. "When we're on Nevarro, we're gonna have you see a doctor there, just to make sure everything's all right. Is that okay?"
You nod, currently too overwhelmed by the warmth of your face against Din's clothed chest to give a verbal answer. His thumbs are gently running over the cramped-up place on your body, and the motion's too relaxing for you to be able to focus on anything else—that is, until a haunting thought comes to mind. Your eyes, which had been fluttering closed thanks to Din's work, open wide as you speak your mind. "My love?"
"Yeah, rid'ika?"
"When you were getting hit by those blaster bolts earlier, did it hurt?"
Din shrugs. "Not as much as I imagined the slap you'd probably give me would've."
You chuckle at that, clearing your throat right after to be serious again. "Din, I mean it."
"It was... no, I'm fine, cyar'ika."
You lift your head from his chest, turning your body to face him more directly as an eyebrow quirks up. "Isn't that what you said after you got hit with the MK-modified rifle bolt?" Din's gaze already starts to prove his defeat as you release a soft breath. "Can we at least check, Din? Please?"
Din sighs, finally giving in with a nod. "Fine. But I'm sure everything's all right." You smile, grateful for his cooperation as you move further away from him. Din sits up from the box, crossing his arms and grabbing the hem of his shirt to pull it up over his head.
Instantly, you have to hold back a gasp at the plethora of dark blue, black, and purple spots that are littered all across his upper half. Din's brow furrows at your concerned expression, his gaze watching you closely as you reach a gentle hand towards his chest. "Din..." you pause, stopping with your hand hovering over a large bruise as your gaze meets his, "you have bruises everywhere."
Din shrugs. "They're just bruises."
You scoff. "Just bruises? Din, look at this!" You gesture with your hand to the array of colored spots you're seeing, clicking your tongue and shaking your head as you look back to him. "And you just let me lay against you like that? It must've hurt!"
"What can I say? I'm a tough guy."
You roll your eyes dramatically, standing up as you search for the medpac. "Oh right, you're Mr. Big and Bad Mandalorian. I always seem to forget that, don't I?"
Din chuckles. "How dare you—."
"—marry a Mandalorian. Yeah, I remember you saying that." You kneel down in front of Din, taking out the bottle of zonidox cream and starting to lightly apply it to your fingers. "Wasn't that right after I watched you get swallowed whole by a krayt dragon?"
Din's silent for a moment at that, simply watching as you start to apply the zonidox to his bruises. He draws in a breath through gritted teeth, one of his hands instinctively wrapping around your wrist. "Ah, cyar'ika, that's cold."
You furrow your brow and look up at him. "Does it hurt?"
"I think the cold is numbing the pain."
You scoff playfully, continuing your movements of gentle circles. "You're being dramatic, riduur."
Din releases your wrist, and you can feel his fond gaze on you while you work in silence. He keeps his arms at his sides to give you easier access, though you can sense his desire to hold you in some manner. It makes you bite back a smile as your fingers continue over his warm skin, enjoying the peace you both can share after so much constant action and chaos. You thought that life after being on the run would be calmer than before, but you're nearly inclined to believe that it's even crazier than before. You don't mind, though. You know you'd go to the ends of the galaxy for both your boys.
When you finish, you release a soft breath, closing the zonidox and setting it inside the medpac. "You're all set, my love. Once that settles in, you can wash up."
Din snorts at that. "I'm not sure if you remember, but I think I got quite the bath on Trask."
"That's not funny," you insist, trying to be serious as you playfully slap Din's cheek. "You almost drowned."
Din laughs softly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Ni ceta."
You beam at him, coming alongside him as you sling one of his arms over your shoulders. You tuck yourself into his side, where Din openly accepts you and pulls you close. With your head resting upon your shoulder, you can feel the full exhaustion of the two days hit you, making your eyelids flutter as Din's thumb runs over your arm.
"Sleep, cyar'ika," Din commands you softly, pressing a kiss to your head. "I'll set the course to Nevarro soon. You just need to rest."
"Are you sure... you won't need... my help?" You're already drifting off, losing yourself in the mixture of Din's comfort and his warmth.
"I'm sure. Sleep, gedet'ye." Please.
You oblige before you can argue, only able to conceive of the safety and security you feel in Din's arms as sleep overtakes you. There's a satisfied feeling within you knowing that you're finally on track to taking the child where he belongs, and stopping somewhere reliable on the way—though you're still completely unaware of how both those things will change you forever. •••