Pairings: Fem!Earthling!Reader x Din Djarin
Status: WIP
Rating: Mature... for now... MINORS DNI
Synopsis: You’re a nurse who owns and runs a farm in rural America. You’re doing the best you can to get by when Mother Nature decides to complicate your life even more than it already was by having a tornado drop a man and his radioactive Furby onto your truck. That’s it. That’s the story... Well, that’s all you had expected the story to be, something to laugh about once the shock wore off, and everyone went their separate ways. Too bad (or lucky for you, you’re still unsure), life had other plans for you, the strange armored man and his strange green sidekick.
No use of y/n
Country Roads AO3 Link
🌪️ Chapter 1: Flying Debris (Word count: 3.1k)
🧡 Chapter Summary: April 2nd, twenty twenty-something, otherwise known as the day a tornado dropped a man from outer space on your pickup.
🎵 Chapter Soundtrack - "Ain't No Love In Oklahoma" - Luke Combs
AO3 Link
🌪️ Chapter 2: Stranger Danger (Word count: 8.1k)
🧡 Chapter Summary: April 2nd, twenty twenty-something, otherwise known as the day a tornado dropped a man from outer space on your pickup… and you have to figure out what to do with him.
AO3 Link
🌪️ Chapter 3: The Pinky Promise (Word count: 8.3k)
🧡 Chapter Summary: April 3rd, twenty twenty-something: the day you and a man from outer space made a pinky promise.
AO3 Link
🌪️ Chapter 4: Cookies and Twenty Questions (Word count: 7.4k)
🧡 Chapter Summary: April 3rd, twenty twenty-something: the night you had cookies and hot chocolate with a man from outer space.
AO3 Link
🌪️ Chapter 5: Losing My Religion (Word count: 9.7k)
🧡 Chapter Summary: Din Djarin finds three things on Earth he tolerates.
🎵 Chapter Soundtrack: "Losing My Religion" - R.E.M.
AO3 Link
🌪️ Chapter 6: Walmart (Word count: 11.8k)
🧡 Chapter Summary: April 4th, twenty twenty-something: the day you decided it would be a good idea to take your Spaceman and his Furby to Walmart.
🎵 Chapter Soundtrack: "Abel" - The National
AO3 Link
🌪️ Chapter 7: Spacemen, Mechanics, and Robots (oh my) (Word count: 9.8k)
🧡 Chapter Summary: April 4th, twenty twenty-something: the day you thought would be remembered for your trip to Walmart, only for that event to get dethroned by something worse. Otherwise known henceforth as the day you finally believed your guests were from outer space.
🎵 Chapter Soundtrack: "UFO" - UFOs, Braxe + Falcon, Alan Braxe, Phoenix
AO3 Link
🌪️ Chapter 8: Regular ole Humans (Word count: 11.3k)
🧡 Chapter Summary: April 4th, twenty twenty-something: the day you thought would never end finally comes to a close.
AO3 Link
🌪️ Chapter 9: Lost and Found (Word count: 14.4k)
🧡 Chapter Summary: Din Djarin navigates his first day as your farmhand, during which he struggles with his emotions about his new environment, discovers he has a new arch-nemesis, and learns what leggings are.
🎵 Chapter Soundtrack: "Astronaut" - Simple Plan
AO3 Link
The first installation of the series Heaven in Hiding. A complicated, novel-length story about the Mandalorian - Din Djarin, Grogu, and my OFC - Alaina Corra. Cross-posted on AO3. Din Djarin/OFC. Slow burn. Rated Mature for Mature themes (PTSD, slight sexual content, descriptions of torture), but will eventually become explicit... So - 18+ only. Minors DNI.
Angst? ✔️
Twists and turns? ✔️
Smut? ✔️
World building? ✔️
Happy ending? (TBD)
MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY
🌶️ = Indicates a sexually explicit chapter
🎵 = Chapter soundtrack (Songs that either inspired, or I listened to to help write particular chapters)
💚 Chapter 1: The Bounty
Chapter Summary: Five years before the Mandalorian even met the Child, Mando took what he thought would be the easiest bounty of his career so far, with the highest payout. Capturing a runaway dancer - a ballerina versus a Mandalorian - was laughable.
Until it wasn't.
Word count: 5.7k
🎵 "Choreomania" - Florence + The Machine
AO3 link to Ch 1
💚 Chapter 2: Judge, Jury, and...
Chapter Summary: Mando learns that his new job has one too many similarities to the one he took five years ago. Granted, this job is apparently a fifty-year-old toddler and not the graceful ballerina with emerald eyes from five years ago, but their powers share an eerie similarity. Now, he must decide how to save both the Child and the ballerina from the Empire. Or is fate destined to repeat itself?
Word count: 10k
AO3 link to Ch 2
💚 Chapter 3: The Executioner
Chapter Summary: Five years ago, Mando returned a bounty. That was his job. Now, he has to face the consequences of his actions.
Word count: 12.3k
AO3 link to Ch 3
💚 Chapter 4: The Aftermath
Chapter Summary: In the immediate aftermath of her and the Child's rescue from Penn Pershing and the Empire, Alaina must confront her past and question what her future holds. More specifically, she has to decide if she can trust the Mandalorian who had once taken her in as a bounty or if he really was the savior he seemed to be.
Word count: 9.9k
AO3 link to Ch 4
💚 Chapter 5: In the Woods Somewhere
Chapter Summary: The Mandalorian and his new companions, Alaina and Grogu, make it to Sorgan. The three set out to explore their new planet. The two adults try to navigate their tentative truce as they walk through the woods, and the Mandalorian learns a little about Alaina's mysterious beskar serpent dagger. But the more the Mandalorian learns, the more he can't help but wonder: is there too much damage between them?
Word count: 11.7k
🎵 "In the Woods Somewhere" - Hozier
AO3 link to Ch 5
💚 Chapter 6: The Hallucination
Chapter Summary: Alaina wakes up in an unfamiliar place. Alone. Anything to not feel alone anymore.
Word count: 12.3k
AO3 link to Ch 6
💚 Chapter 7: The Choice
Chapter Summary: Mando faces a choice on Sorgan. A choice he didn't expect to have to make so soon.
Word count: 11.5k
AO3 link to Ch 7
💚 Chapter 8: Invisible String 🌶️
Chapter Summary: "I don't know… Do you not feel that?" she asked quietly, bringing his focus back to her again.
"Feel what?" he whispered back, not at all sure where this was going.
Word count: 14k
AO3 link to Ch 8
💚 Chapter 9: Mess Her Up 🌶️
Chapter Summary: For a brief moment, it was like the wall that prevented her original powers from returning came down. For a fleeting moment, she felt the snake of her powers emerge from hibernation and wind across her body into Mando's. In that moment, with their hands placed over their hearts, Alaina could see him. In that moment, she could feel their hearts synchronize, and that invisible string linking them added another piece, only making it stronger.
Word count: 8.9k
🎵 "Mess Her Up" - Amy Shark
AO3 link to Ch 9
💚 Chapter 10: The Omen
Chapter Summary: Mando startled awake, instantly on the defensive after a blow to the face. Face.His bare face because he had fallen asleep without his helmet.
Word count: 12.7k
AO3 link to Ch 10
💚 Chapter 11: Deceptive Cadence
Chapter Summary: Deceptive Cadence is a musical cadence in which the dominant resolves to a harmony other than the tonic. It is also called a false cadence, an interrupted cadence, or a suspended cadence.
Word count: 13.6k
AO3 link to Ch 11
💚 Chapter 12: Angel On Fire
Chapter Summary: And I'm fading away, you know, I used to be on fire
I'm standing in the ashes of who I used to be
-Halsey
Word count: 14.1k
🎵 "Angel On Fire" - Halsey
AO3 link to Ch 12
Next act in the Heaven in Hiding Series - 🐍🩷 Act II 🩷🐍
Folks, I ✨promise✨ that Heaven in Hiding hasn't fallen off my radar. Quite the opposite, in fact. I've spent the last couple of months going back and editing "Act I". There are no major story changes, more just cleaning and bringing it up to par with the writer I (think/hope) I've grown into since first starting this story.
I will be updating the previous Acts/Chapters until I start rolling out the final chapters 😭 This story and Alaina have been my baby for literal years, and I'm not quite ready to say goodbye to them just yet.
So, if you're new to Heaven in Hiding, welcome to the new and improved Act I, and if you're not new to the story, well, sometimes you need to go back to the beginning to understand the end.
The first installation of the series Heaven in Hiding. A complicated, novel-length story about the Mandalorian - Din Djarin, Grogu, and my OFC - Alaina Corra. Cross-posted on AO3. Din Djarin/OFC. Slow burn. Rated Mature for Mature themes (PTSD, slight sexual content, descriptions of torture), but will eventually become explicit... So - 18+ only. Minors DNI.
Angst? ✔️
Twists and turns? ✔️
Smut? ✔️
World building? ✔️
Happy ending? (TBD)
MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY
🌶️ = Indicates a sexually explicit chapter
🎵 = Chapter soundtrack (Songs that either inspired, or I listened to to help write particular chapters)
💚 Chapter 1: The Bounty
Chapter Summary: Five years before the Mandalorian even met the Child, Mando took what he thought would be the easiest bounty of his career so far, with the highest payout. Capturing a runaway dancer - a ballerina versus a Mandalorian - was laughable.
Until it wasn't.
Word count: 5.7k
🎵 "Choreomania" - Florence + The Machine
AO3 link to Ch 1
💚 Chapter 2: Judge, Jury, and...
Chapter Summary: Mando learns that his new job has one too many similarities to the one he took five years ago. Granted, this job is apparently a fifty-year-old toddler and not the graceful ballerina with emerald eyes from five years ago, but their powers share an eerie similarity. Now, he must decide how to save both the Child and the ballerina from the Empire. Or is fate destined to repeat itself?
Word count: 10k
AO3 link to Ch 2
💚 Chapter 3: The Executioner
Chapter Summary: Five years ago, Mando returned a bounty. That was his job. Now, he has to face the consequences of his actions.
Word count: 12.3k
AO3 link to Ch 3
💚 Chapter 4: The Aftermath
Chapter Summary: In the immediate aftermath of her and the Child's rescue from Penn Pershing and the Empire, Alaina must confront her past and question what her future holds. More specifically, she has to decide if she can trust the Mandalorian who had once taken her in as a bounty or if he really was the savior he seemed to be.
Word count: 9.9k
AO3 link to Ch 4
💚 Chapter 5: In the Woods Somewhere
Chapter Summary: The Mandalorian and his new companions, Alaina and Grogu, make it to Sorgan. The three set out to explore their new planet. The two adults try to navigate their tentative truce as they walk through the woods, and the Mandalorian learns a little about Alaina's mysterious beskar serpent dagger. But the more the Mandalorian learns, the more he can't help but wonder: is there too much damage between them?
Word count: 11.7k
🎵 "In the Woods Somewhere" - Hozier
AO3 link to Ch 5
💚 Chapter 6: The Hallucination
Chapter Summary: Alaina wakes up in an unfamiliar place. Alone. Anything to not feel alone anymore.
Word count: 12.3k
AO3 link to Ch 6
💚 Chapter 7: The Choice
Chapter Summary: Mando faces a choice on Sorgan. A choice he didn't expect to have to make so soon.
Word count: 11.5k
AO3 link to Ch 7
💚 Chapter 8: Invisible String 🌶️
Chapter Summary: "I don't know… Do you not feel that?" she asked quietly, bringing his focus back to her again.
"Feel what?" he whispered back, not at all sure where this was going.
Word count: 14k
AO3 link to Ch 8
💚 Chapter 9: Mess Her Up 🌶️
Chapter Summary: For a brief moment, it was like the wall that prevented her original powers from returning came down. For a fleeting moment, she felt the snake of her powers emerge from hibernation and wind across her body into Mando's. In that moment, with their hands placed over their hearts, Alaina could see him. In that moment, she could feel their hearts synchronize, and that invisible string linking them added another piece, only making it stronger.
Word count: 8.9k
🎵 "Mess Her Up" - Amy Shark
AO3 link to Ch 9
💚 Chapter 10: The Omen
Chapter Summary: Mando startled awake, instantly on the defensive after a blow to the face. Face.His bare face because he had fallen asleep without his helmet.
Word count: 12.7k
AO3 link to Ch 10
💚 Chapter 11: Deceptive Cadence
Chapter Summary: Deceptive Cadence is a musical cadence in which the dominant resolves to a harmony other than the tonic. It is also called a false cadence, an interrupted cadence, or a suspended cadence.
Word count: 13.6k
AO3 link to Ch 11
💚 Chapter 12: Angel On Fire
Chapter Summary: And I'm fading away, you know, I used to be on fire
I'm standing in the ashes of who I used to be
-Halsey
Word count: 14.1k
🎵 "Angel On Fire" - Halsey
AO3 link to Ch 12
Next act in the Heaven in Hiding Series - 🐍🩷 Act II 🩷🐍
🌪️ Chapter Summary: Din Djarin navigates his first day as your farmhand, during which he struggles with his emotions about his new environment, discovers he has a new arch-nemesis, and learns what leggings are.
🌪️ Pairings: Fem!Earthling!Reader x Din Djarin
🌪️ Word Count: 14.4k
🧡 Author's Note: Idk what it is about writing from Din's POV that always stresses me out, but roughly 14.4k words later (Country Road's longest chapter to date), I have to say that I am incredibly pleased with how it turned out. I hope y'all enjoy it too! 🧡 Special shoutout to R for holding my hand for this chapter 🧡
🎵Chapter Soundtrack🎵 "Astronaut" - Simple Plan
AO3 Link
Chapter 9: Lost and Found
A patch of light peeked through the curtains, caressing his face with its warm beam until the sun's rays could no longer be ignored.
With a groggy blink, Din looked around, only to be disappointed when the rudimentary farmhouse came into view rather than the sleek durasteel of the Razor Crest or the trees and mountains of Tython.
With a deep breath, he tried to shake the fog of sleep away. Not his dreams, because there were no dreams. There was only deep, heavy sleep. The kind of deep sleep that came from an exhausted mind and depleted body. The kind of sleep that left him feeling warm, safe, and comfortable.
As he exhaled, dispelling the rest of the sleep-filled fog from his mind, Din realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten that kind of deep, restful sleep. It certainly had been since before the kid entered his life, because after he'd taken on Grogu, he'd learned to sleep with one ear open. That ear was used to alert him to the kid's antics and enemies alike.
Din lifted his head from the back of the couch and couldn't help but let some of his initial disappointment go at the sight of Grogu curled into Dorothy's chest. The kid's head was poking out from under the blanket, and the tip of one of his pointed ears brushed the bottom of your chin with each slow inhale.
Watching you and Grogu stirred strange, confusing, long-dormant feelings inside his chest.
Warm. Safe. Comfortable.
Three words that he'd never used to describe him, his circumstances, or his life.
Ever.
Since Grogu, Sorgan was the closest he'd come to experiencing that feeling. He'd let himself get wrapped up in the peaceful thrall of the quaint shrimping village. He'd allowed Omera to seep through his beskar and armorweave, awakening a slumbering part of his soul that yearned for the kind of comfort and stability a village like Omera's offered. The kind of comfort and stability that Omera offered. She'd extended the proposal for the Mandalorian to make his home on Sorgan. Her other offer, of her and sharing her home - her life - with him was implied but never spoken aloud. The picture she painted of Grogu growing up with her daughter, Winta, along with the other children - of Grogu getting the opportunity to be a normal boy - was tempting. Not just any boy, but his boy. Maker, he almost caved to that vision when her hands cupped his helmet.
However, while Din was tempted, there was something about the way his blood pumped through his heart with every beat that told him he wasn't meant to settle on Sorgan. Din wasn't ready to take that next step. The village was peaceful, yes, but he knew the novelty would wear off after a couple of months. Omera was kind and beautiful, yes, he wasn't blind, but it was the idea she offered, not her, that called to him.
Din Djarin wanted more than that. If he was going to be with someone - really, truly, and honestly be with someone - he wanted to be with them because they were carved from the stars themselves to complete him. Not because it was a convenience.
And as easy as it would be to let himself fall into the steady routine that someplace like Sorgan offered, his soul belonged to the stars. There was also the not-so-small fact that he'd only just rescued the kid. Yes, he could have claimed him as his own, but Din knew that was only an offer he was prepared to make after he'd exhausted all other options. If he wasn't the type to settle down with a beautiful widow and enjoy a peaceful rest of his life living in a quaint shrimping village, then he wasn't the type to give up reuniting a child with his family. He owed it to the kid to attempt to find his own people.
Now, almost two years after Omera's proposal, he was no closer to reuniting Grogu with the Jedi, and the two had inadvertently been flung to some strange, primitive backwater planet in an unknown corner of the galaxy.
Now, almost two years later, you had proposed something similar to Omera's offer on Sorgan - The chance for him to simply be.
The only difference between your offer and hers was that when you looked into his eyes, you knew yours wasn't meant to be permanent. It was as if you could see the lost stars he yearned for reflected in his soul. You hardly knew him, but could somehow tell from just a look that he wasn't going to give up on finding a way back. Instead, you reminded him that it was okay to take this momentary setback as an opportunity to heal. And if he found it in him to enjoy himself, well, then that was okay too.
Whatever event brought them here could have just as easily taken them somewhere else.
Din Djarin had seen a lot of the galaxy, and despite the seemingly lackluster, primitive limitations of the planet they'd found themselves on, this strange place called Earth, he knew they could have ended up on worse planets.
A grunt from his left brought an easy smile to his face as he watched you mumble something incoherent in your sleep, then your arm instinctively wrapped around the kid, holding him to your chest as you rolled onto your side and buried your face in the pillow.
They definitely could have ended up with a worse host.
He studied the soft lines of your face as you slumbered beside him, still stretched across the couch with your feet across his lap. Din's own feet were propped on the small wooden table in front of the couch, and he kept one hand over your bandaged leg so he'd know if you tried to sneak off in the middle of the night. Although judging by how hard he slept, he probably wouldn't have noticed if you had gotten up. He was so exhausted that he probably could have slept through another tornado.
Din let his head fall back against the couch again.
Now that the initial fog of the waking world had cleared, he begrudgingly accepted that you had been right about needing a solid night's sleep. His headache from the past few days had almost dissipated, leaving his head feeling clearer than it had since he first landed on your truck. The low undercurrent of nausea was completely gone as well. If it weren't for his exposed face, Din would say he almost felt like he was back to normal.
Leaving his right hand on your ankle, he brought his left hand up to rub at his face.
The instant pang of his missing helmet stabbed him in the chest, but he worked through the pain with a deep breath.
Now that he was awake, he knew there would be no going back to sleep. If he were on his ship, there would usually be something for him to do. There was the kid and his bottomless stomach, a course to plan, entertaining the kid, a repair to make, chasing the kid out of his hiding spots, weapons to maintain, the kid, and, when he exhausted all of those options, and had no bounties to track, his own personal physical fitness routine to ensure he stayed in shape.
However, here, on Earth, he found himself adrift.
Yet instead of the swell of panic he'd experienced yesterday, something else was flowing through his veins. Din took a deep, grounding breath, relishing the fact that he could do that without his head feeling like it would explode. Even the blood flowing through his veins was no longer screaming at him. Instead, it buzzed. Like something in the background was reminding him that he was warm, safe, and comfortable.
He chewed that over in his mind. Those emotions were infinitely better than the feeling of not belonging in his own body he'd been experiencing, but for Din Djarin, they were just as confusing.
"Maybe it is kinda fortuitous that you ended up here." Your words from last night replayed in his head. "You get some more time with him." Din's gaze landed on the sleeping toddler tucked against your chest, surprised by the happiness that blossomed from that thought. As much as he still intended to follow through on his promise of getting Grogu to his people, Din couldn't argue with the fact that he wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to the womp rat just yet, either. "Assuming no more followed you through whatever portal sucked you in and dropped you on my truck, Death Troopers don't exist here. Aside from the one that is in pieces in my storm shelter. Your Empire doesn't exist here… Not saying that I don't want you guys to get back home, but… Maybe the universe decided you needed a break."
A break.
The thought was almost too absurd to wrap his mind around.
Warmth.
Safety.
Comfort.
Those were words that left his vocabulary the moment the first sentry droid landed on Aq Vetina.
Although now that he was in this strange new world, Dorothy's suggestion to be a regular ole human had taken root somewhere deep inside his chest.
It surprised him, too.
His lost stars still called to him. He wasn't yearning to settle down by any stretch of the imagination (especially here, without a means to get off-world), but it was more your offer to take a break that resonated with him. Somehow, his mind could wrap around the concept of this being temporary - that he could take a beat to breathe, to heal without having to look over his shoulder, waiting for Gideon or the Empire to track them down - that he could have more time with the kid, where they could enjoy the moment without their normal terrifying burdens of reality hovering over them.
Every word you spoke last night while you were bandaging your injuries rang true. He was tired. Had been tired. Din Djarin had been running on empty since they landed on Sorgan, only to sputter out when he crashed on this strange world.
Aside from Grogu's mysterious missing powers, the kid seemed to be enjoying himself. You clearly enamored the child. Case in point, he slept on your chest all night. Normally, the kid found his way back to him at the end of the day, so he was a little surprised when he woke up to find the only thing in his lap was your legs.
Din's head lolled to the side again, allowing him a moment while you slept to study the woman sprawled across the couch.
You were… different - in a good way - but different. For someone who had allegedly never met an alien before, you were handling yourself remarkably well. Aq Vetina had also been a primitive planet. Before the droids and the Mandalorians came, he'd never interacted with someone from another world. Now that he was more experienced, at first glance, he would assume someone like you - someone with delicate curves and naturally beautiful features wasn't used to hard work. Then he began noticing the little things: Your hands may be soft, but they had calluses and a firm grip that told of the manual labor you'd grown accustomed to over time. Then there was your occupation, a healer, a difficult, noble job that he had an immense respect for - especially as a bounty hunter.
Physical attributes and occupation aside, you were easy to talk to. Even when you thought he was out of his mind or mentally disturbed, you still heard him out and treated him with respect. Even when he was a man of few words, you seemed able to read between the lines, figuring out what he was getting at when he sometimes couldn't even find the point he was trying to make. You listened to him. He'd say you didn't make him feel crazy, but you did, to no fault of your own. If your roles were reversed, he wasn't sure he could have navigated your introduction to his world with as much grace as you showed him yours. Not to mention how you had no problem defending him at that karking Walmart when his own body began to fail him. Then there was your wit, which was perhaps his favorite quality. Your ability to banter with him, combined with kindness and the ability to know when to put your foot down, made you that much more interesting and complex. He didn't realize how much he appreciated that quality until you took that blaster bolt to your calf. Even then, you eventually found a way to smile.
His lips pursed at the memory of that karking Dark Trooper.
Din's boots came to a halt in the middle of the field, mesmerized by the pink and orange sunset that seemed to set the land on fire. A fire similar to the one that flowed through his veins when you started describing the robot you'd found. He'd sprinted, faster than he had before in his life, ready to fight the damaged Dark Trooper to the death without a scrap of beskar. That was also the last time he would let Dorothy convince him that he didn't need at least one weapon on him wherever he went.
As if sensing his thoughts, your leg weakly kicked out in your sleep, striking him in the gut. Even in your sleep, you were chastising him over his weapons.
He rubbed his palm along the bandage covering your leg as another wave of guilt crashed over him.
Guilt for how scared you must have been when the droid shot your leg, especially after learning of your previous injury. Din risked a peek under the blanket to check on your injured leg. He was relieved to find the bandage clean and dry with no evidence of strike-through. In time, it would heal, but it still didn't ease his guilt that he'd allowed you to get injured in the first place. He'd been so wrapped up in the search for his helmet that he hadn't been paying attention, and now you had a new scar to add to the ones already marring your legs.
His eyes quickly flicked to your face, checking that you were still asleep before he allowed a calloused fingertip to gently trace the old scar that tracked down the outside of your leg. You may be a healer, but he shuddered to think what kind of primitive care you'd endured that earned you such barbaric scars. His finger traced over the bandage, following the invisible scar beneath it until he reached the end, then he let his hand return to its resting place over your ankle.
Like everything else about you, your skin was unbelievably soft. He'd had the same thought last night before he realized what you must think of someone like him, a bounty hunter - a killer - holding your leg in hands that have killed. He hadn't meant to touch you, but he'd been drawn to the scars, surprised to find something like that on someone like you. Those were the kind of scars that he had. Those weren't supposed to be adorning the warm, soft skin of a healer.
Din continued to stare at you while you slept as a new slew of confusing feelings entered his thoughts, only adding to the others haunting him.
The gravel road that ran past the house crunched, pulling him from any more thoughts of the warm, soft skin in his lap, and his head snapped to attention.
Carefully, Din eased himself off the couch, doing his best not to disturb your sleep as he lowered your legs until they lay where he'd been sitting. When he heard the even steps of someone walking toward the house, he took one final moment to ensure the blanket was tucked snugly around you and the kid before slipping his vibroblade from under his cushion. This was the last time he would ever let you go to bed or leave your home without locking the karking door.
The growing list of lasts he had begun compiling in his mind didn't escape him either.
As he rounded the corner, he shifted his dagger to his left hand and flipped it so the blade was tucked against his wrist while keeping the hilt in his palm.
An older, plump, gray-haired man wearing blue coveralls that covered his arms and legs came up the porch steps as he entered the hallway. Din narrowed his eyes at the intruder before recognizing him as Dorothy's mechanic, who'd stopped by to look at her truck yesterday.
The mechanic adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses on his nose as he climbed the last step, then finally looked up and came to a halt when he saw Din looming on the other side of the screen door. It only took the older man a moment of confusion before he relaxed and raised his hand in greeting.
"You must be the new farmhand," he began with a friendly smile. "Howdy!"
Din's jaw twitched. Was everyone on this planet so gullible as to accept that there was a stranger in their friend's home? Or that friend leaving her karking door open for anyone to waltz in?
The man's smile faltered when Din brought his left hand to rest on the wooden door, discreetly hiding the vibroblade from the other man's view.
"Oh, shoot," the mechanic scoffed. "Forgot she said ya don't have papers," he said by way of apology, as if that explained who he was or what he was doing at Dorothy's home. "MY," the gray-haired man began yelling through the screen. "NAME. IS. RICK." Din's brows rose higher with each word the man shouted while he patted his chest. The older mechanic attempted to enunciate each word slowly, unnecessarily dragging out the few syllables he yelled at him. Loudly. "I'M. HERE. TO -"
"Rick?" your rough, sleep-filled voice called from the next room over, saving him from further subjection to the mechanic's shouted introduction.
Din only took his eyes off the older man long enough to check on you when you stumbled blearily toward the hall. In your half-awake confusion, you seemed to realize that he was looking at the bandage wrapped around your calf and turned back at the last minute to grab the other green blanket from the pile on the chair to wrap around your body, hiding your injury, before you joined Din in the hall.
"Rick? Hey," you croaked, rubbing sleep from your eyes. After you greeted the other man, your eyes slid to him, but you did a double take when you caught sight of the vibroblade he had hidden behind the door. With a subtle, displeased look and an elbow to his ribs, you returned your attention to your guest.
"Hey, sweetheart," the man, Rick, greeted you with a bright, friendly smile. "I was just introducing myself to your new farmhand."
"Yeah, I heard," you yawned out, covering your face with the green blanket. "I think the neighbors three miles down heard you, too," you grumbled, giving the older man a pointed look as you opened the screen door for him to come inside. "He speaks English. He can understand you just fine. Rick, Din - Din, this is Rick. He's the one who came out to look at the truck yesterday. He and his wife are like family to us."
With Dorothy's eyes narrowing at him, Din tucked his weapon under the waistband of his sleep pants before offering his right hand to the mechanic. "Nice to meet you," he greeted with a nod, giving the other man a firm shake.
He caught a flash of what seemed like surprise in your eyes during the interaction. For whatever reason, you seemed to think he had no manners or couldn't hold a civil conversation.
Then again, you ended up staring down the end of his blaster when he woke up on your couch his first day here, so perhaps your views of his interpersonal skills weren't entirely unfounded.
"Oh, nice to meet ya, son!" came Rick's enthusiastic words as he eagerly returned Din's handshake. "Sorry 'bout earlier. We get all types looking for cash jobs 'round here. That's what I get for assumin'. I didn't mean to offend." Din waved him off, making Rick breathe out a sigh of relief that he hadn't insulted Dorothy's new 'farmhand'. "I was relieved to hear you're helping out the girls for a bit. They've been tryin' to manage on their own, but -"
"But," you interjected, tossing a tired, warning look at the old man, "they have been managing by themselves just fine."
Din's eyes flickered between you and Rick, attempting to figure out what had prompted the defensive response. As if sensing his eyes on you, Din quirked a curious brow, silently asking for an explanation when you caught him staring. However, it seemed his silent question would go unanswered for the time being.
"Coffee?" you offered Rick with another stifled yawn.
"No, thank ya, sweetheart, already at my limit for the mornin'. I just came to drop Rita's car off before I start on my honey-do list from the boss," he explained as he passed you a metal ring with a plastic fob and what appeared to be some type of metal and plastic key. "Now, it's got a full tank of gas, and don't worry about toppin' it off before you bring it back. Rita told me to tell ya that if one of those berry pies you made for Thanksgiving last year comes back with the car when you're done, we'll call it even," he finished with a wink.
Din watched as your face melted into a thankful smile and moved to wrap your arms around the mechanic in a tight hug. "I'm sure that can be arranged," you murmured, still clinging to the man. "I don't know what I would do without you and Rita. Cassie gets back into town next weekend. I'll get it back to you then."
"Don't mention it, sweetheart. We're just glad we could help ya out," he replied, giving a couple of fatherly pats to your back before the hug disbanded. "Now, for you, Din, was it?" Rick continued, turning his attention to Din. "The girls under this roof are family to me, so if I hear any bad reports, you'll have me to deal with." Din smirked when he caught you rolling your eyes at the man's overprotective comment. It would seem that your balking at being cared for wasn't unique to just him. When Rick motioned for Din to lean in closer, Din's brow furrowed in confusion before he leaned closer to the man. The man was only an inch shorter than he was, and when Din got close enough, Rick whispered, "But between you and me, the three of 'em get to be a handful sometimes, so come find me if you need some peace and quiet or you have any questions about how the place operates."
At Rick's words, Din smirked, and you rolled your eyes again as you began waving Rick towards the door. "Alright, alright," you grumbled, shooting Rick an annoyed look. "Thank you for dropping the car off at six forty in the morning," came your flat, pointed comment, followed by another yawn. "Don't let the door hit ya on the way out."
Rick tossed you another teasing wink before he shook Din's hand again and departed.
"He seems friendly," Din commented once the man was down the porch steps and out of earshot.
"Which is precisely why we don't greet people at the door with weapons," you snarked, eying the blade tucked into Din's side.
Din turned his pointed gaze to you. "You left the front door to your home wide open."
You gave a sleepy blink before asking, "Yeah?"
"All night."
Another blink. "Yeah?"
With an exasperated sigh, Din explained, "It could have been anyone knocking on your door!"
"The keyword there is knocking, Spaceman," you pointed out with another yawn. "I don't know of many intruders who announce themselves by knocking on the unlocked screen door before letting themselves inside." Din's glower only prompted you to roll your eyes rather than come up with a better defense. "I told you, the house is over half a mile from the main road, no one comes up this way unless they have a reason."
A thousand reasons ran through his head, each more nefarious than the one before. However, even when you were still half asleep, you had that determined look in your eyes, and he knew you had a whole line of excuses ready to go.
Din shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh, begrudgingly accepting he wasn't going to win this argument. Yet, he added to himself, because he was determined to help you make it a habit to ensure your house was locked and secured before he and Grogu returned to where they belonged. When his eyes landed on your leg, he asked, "How's your leg?"
"A little sore," you shrugged. "Kinda itches, but that's a good thing. I think it should be tough enough to go back to work on Monday."
"And today is?"
"Saturday," you yawned.
Din's eyes stared at you as he processed that before asking, "How many days until Monday?"
"Saturday, Sunday, and then Monday," you explained with an amused smile. "Saturday and Sunday are what we call the weekend, and Monday through Friday is considered a normal work week."
Din frowned as he put the pieces together. "So you've only got two days before you go back to your job?"
"Yup."
Stubborn woman. The Dark Trooper may have only grazed you, but your wound was deep enough that Din knew from personal experience that unless you stayed off of it, or cauterized it, the stickers you seemed so fond of wouldn't be enough on their own to heal it in only two days.
What he wouldn't give to get his medpac from the Crest and introduce you to Bacta.
Instead, Din did the only logical thing.
At your answer, Din shook his head, and before you could give another slow, sleepy blink, he had you cradled in his arms, blanket and all. You rolled your eyes, but the slight blush on your cheeks brought back the confusing feelings of warmth, safety, and comfort to the forefront of his mind as he carried you into the kitchen.
"You shouldn't be on your feet," he started, talking over you before you could fully form your objections.
You let out a soft sigh as Din lowered you into your chair at the table. "As much as I appreciate you being my pack mule, it's really unnecessary." You tried to free Din from his chivalry, but he ignored your words and instead propped your leg up in an empty chair. "Really," you tried again, leaning forward to rest a hand on his forearm, stilling him with a tender touch. "I know that you feel obligated, but I'm a big girl. This is not my first time getting around with only one leg. I've got some crutches stashed in the garage I can use. Besides, I'm gonna have to get started on chores -"
"You mean your farmhand is gonna have to get started on chores," Din reminded you with a pointed look as he gently pried your hand from his arm. As if his thumb had a mind of its own, it swiped across your knuckles, deepening the pink blush on your cheeks and eliciting an embarrassed flush up his neck before he let go of your hand. "How do you make caf?" he asked, clearing his throat and trying to shove his embarrassment aside as he turned from the table.
Your silence was deafening in the quiet kitchen as he approached the machine you'd used to make caf yesterday, and pretended to study the glass carafe intently, kicking himself for being so bold as to hold your hand like that. You were a healer. He was a killer. You were probably revolted by even the thought of him touching you - by him helping you.
Those blissful feelings of warmth, safety, and comfort he'd awakened to this morning were slipping with each passing second of your silence.
"Din," you called for him, voice quiet, maybe even slightly nervous. Din braced himself for whatever you were about to say, knowing that it must be serious for you to use his name instead of calling him Spaceman. "Thank you," you whispered, making him turn to give you a surprised look over his shoulder. "For taking care of me last night. It's hard for me to accept help, even from people close to me. After my car accident, my family kinda… imploded," you began, eyes taking on a haunted look. "If I hadn't stepped up, we would have lost the farm. No one, except for Cassie, Rick, and Rita, thought I could do it. A lot of people in town turned their backs on me when I came home after my accident. It was like the whole town was watching - waiting for me to fail… It's been a little over ten years of pulling myself up by my bootstraps and proving myself to people who wrote me off. My therapist once pointed out that I use that as a shield, and that asking for help isn't admitting failure… So, thank you."
Suddenly, Dorothy's irritation over Rick's earlier comment started to make a little more sense.
"I guess it's nice to know that there are still good guys out in the world - or galaxy, I guess," you paused to let out a subdued, breathy laugh. "I am appreciative of your help," another pause as you held his gaze, "but I really am capable of handling myself."
Din watched as you seemed to shrink into yourself at your admission, looking embarrassed after bearing something so obviously personal to you. He wouldn't prod you for more, not when you already looked so small and vulnerable after your brief explanation. Instead, he found himself wanting to know the names of every person who had turned their back on someone like you - someone who didn't hesitate to run into danger to save the stranger who destroyed your vehicle - someone who had returned the feeling of warmth, safety, and comfort to him for the first time in his life since becoming a Mandalorian. No, instead, Din Djarin found himself wanting to track down each of those people who abandoned you during your time of need, tie them upside down by their feet, and use their bodies as a punching bag.
"Never mind," you muttered in his silence, shaking your head in embarrassment. "Forget I -"
"Dorothy," Din called, turning to give you his full attention. He leaned back against the counter, bracing his hands on the worn surface to fix you with a knowing look.
Because without a helmet, he could do that now.
The thought chipped away at him, but when your nervous eyes met his, he took a deep breath through his nose and shoved it aside for the time being.
"I never said you weren't capable," he began lowly, locking his eyes on your wary ones. He stopped himself before he could continue. He wasn't good at this - The uplifting speech filled with flattery and words of encouragement. That wasn't something he received much of in his formative years, so it wasn't a skill he'd fully developed. However, now that he was looking into your eyes, noting how they had lost a little of their spark after speaking about your accident and the subsequent fallout, he wished he could pluck the right words from the air to bring you the same kind of warmth, safety, and comfort you'd allowed him to feel. But those words didn't magically come to him, so he said the only thing that came to mind, hoping it would land the way he'd envisioned it. "In fact, for someone so primitive, I bet you are the most capable, confident person on this entire backwater skughole."
There, in the bright morning light coming in through the kitchen window over the sink, Din let himself relax when he saw that spark return to your eyes. The immediate snort of amusement you let out brought a smile to Din's face.
"I'm like, the only person you've met," you scoffed, unable to hide the mirth in your voice.
"Not true," he defended. "You took me to that Walmart place yesterday," he reminded you, smirking when that elicited an eye roll. "Compared to that, I'm surprised that you're not a planet leader of some sort."
"Glad to see that your bar is set low," you chuckled, shaking your head.
"No, Dorothy," he stopped you, shaking his head. When you lifted a skeptical eyebrow, he let his smirk transform into a warm, thankful smile. "You just set the bar too high."
Waves of confusion, anger, and laughter battled his newfound feelings of warmth, comfort, and peace for the rest of the day, in no particular order.
Din grunted as he dug the metal mouth of the rudimentary tool - post-hole digger, you'd called it - into the ground. The leather work gloves you found in your garage were slightly too big for even his hands, and his fingers slipped from sweat as he gripped the wooden handles and brought them together, allowing the metal mouth to take a bite of the red-brown dirt. Releasing a tired breath, Din brought the post-hole digger out of the hole he had been working on and deposited the clump of dirt onto the small pile before he drove the tool into the ground and leaned on one handle while his other hand wiped the sweat from his brow.
His brief reprieve of warmth, safety, and comfort from earlier evaporated after the two of you finished two cups of caf a piece, and his new title of farmhand, which he had accepted, reared its ugly head.
It would seem that while you were thankful for his help, you had no idea how to actually let him help. You'd insisted on trudging after him with those kriffing crutches up the gravel road, rapid-firing through your daily routine without taking a breath or allowing for any questions.
Din tried to retain all the information, but between listening to your instructions, keeping an eye on the kid, and keeping an eye on you after you almost toppled over when your right crutch landed on a large rock, it was hard to focus.
Not to mention the clothes. He felt like he was wearing someone else's skin. He was used to the layers, the heavy beskar and weapons restricting his movements. Now, wearing only the thin white shirt he'd slept in last night and a pair of trousers (jeans, you kept correcting him), he felt utterly exposed. However, he did applaud your choice of boots. They were thick, durable, and had plenty of ankle support. The rest of what you considered appropriate work attire was questionable, but the boots made up for it.
Despite your almost falling three times because your crutches slipped or got stuck in the clay-like dirt that was still damp from the recent storm, and Din accidentally locking Grogu up in the chicken coop after he followed your directions on how to clean it and collect the eggs from their nests, he completed the morning chores unscathed.
Well, almost unscathed.
When they first reached the barn at the end of the gravel road, he took one look at the enormous black menace inspecting the same mud puddle he rolled in yesterday, and Din decided to leave the horses for last. The pain in his ass had been just as stubborn for him yesterday evening as its owner was when he tried to take care of his wound. As if sensing Din's presence, Jackass looked up from the mud puddle beside the barn he was staring at, let out a huff, then returned to pawing at the ball in the mud.
Once the chickens were taken care of and Grogu was freed from their coop, Din reluctantly entered the horse pen, attached to the barn with you and your crutches on his heels. The second the gate was closed, Din stopped, picked you up under your armpits, and plopped you down onto a large block of straw while you carried on, rattling off instructions without missing a beat.
It was hard but simple work. Mucking the stalls and filling them with fresh straw, hay, and water buckets. You suggested saving their special breakfast of alfalfa mixed with other pellets for last to entice them back into the barn.
However, it seemed Jack was the only one of the three who might need to be enticed. As if sensing their breakfast was near, the other two horses meandered in from the pasture to the pen, stopping to inspect their owner and the small green child in your lap.
Your other two horses were also large and, at first glance, appeared much gentler than their black counterpart. They both had mostly chestnut coats, with the larger male being slightly darker, while the female's coat had more red tones, and both had the same black manes, white blazes, and extra-hairy white legs near their hooves.
After he finished mucking the stalls, Din left the barn to empty and refill the water barrel in the pen. The smaller female came to inspect him, sniffing his head and shoulders while he filled the barrel. When Din lifted a cautious hand, the gentle mare instantly brought her muzzle to his palm and let him stroke her white blaze.
"That's Bonnie," you said, holding Grogu in your hands so he could pet the other horse still hovering by you. "And this is Clyde. Bonnie is about as sweet as they come. Actually, they both are, but I don't think Bonnie has ever met a stranger. They were my dad's original Clydesdales. Lord, they have to be almost as old as I am now. Back in the day, they would pull around that old-time buggy, that's broken down beside the barn, for special events - parades, and whatnot."
Din tensed when he watched Grogu stick his tiny hands directly into Clyde's nostrils and grip them tightly while he squealed. When you made no motion to stop Grogu, Din watched as the massive horse stood there, seemingly resigned to accept his fate of being tormented by the ornery toddler.
"Alright," came your quiet chuckle as you pulled Grogu and his hands away from Clyde's snout. "Give grandpa here a break."
And then all heads, including Bonnie and Clyde's, turned to watch the muddied, black Sir Jackass enter the pen.
Din swore the other two horses let out heavy sighs at the sight of their younger, obnoxious brother. Even Bonnie, the one you claimed was as sweet as they came, shook her head at Jack and sauntered away to the other side of the pen.
He hadn't realized how much larger Jack was compared to the other two until he walked past you and Clyde, completely eclipsing the other male as he made his way to where Din was still holding the hose to fill their water barrel.
"Jack," you drawled from your spot with your legs dangling over the block of straw. "Make good choices."
Din lifted a skeptical brow at the wild glint in Jack's black eyes as he approached.
Before Din could say a word or offer a hand to greet the meddlesome horse, Jack snatched the hose right out of his hands.
"Jack!" you tried to scold, but it was too late.
Sir Jackass took the opportunity to wildly shake the hose around, dousing Din in his new clothes in the cold water.
"You karking mudscuffer!" Din growled, ignoring the giggles from your corner of the pen as he snatched the hose back.
As if the massive creature were laughing at him, Jack lifted his head high into the sky, lips smacking in amusement, before bringing his snout into the barrel, only to start sloshing water wildly from the steel container.
Your giggles turned into vicious cackles, undercut by the kid's amused squeals at his current predicament.
Thanks to Jack's antics, Din was now completely soaked. Hair flat against his head, white shirt and blue trousers drenched and clinging to his skin. Even his socks were wet through his boots.
Din's teeth ground as he squared his shoulders at the obnoxious creature. He wasn't about to let your horse think he could walk all over him. If he was gonna be your farmhand, he was gonna have to put his foot down. He had tamed a Blurrg before, so by the Maker, he was going to earn your horse's respect. However, Jack wasn't a wild creature. For all intents and purposes, he was already tamed. Din just needed to earn the stubborn creature's respect.
So he did the only thing he could think of to fight back. To fight fire with fire… So to speak.
With the hose back in his hand, he partially covered the nozzle with his thumb, building up the water pressure until it was intense enough to take aim. Din lifted the hose and aimed it at Jack's shoulder, taking him by surprise. For such a large creature, he let out a rather pathetic-sounding whinny, making Din smirk as he kept aiming the sharp jet of water at the horse while Jack tried to walk away. When he bumped into Clyde, the older horse kicked his back leg at Jack's hindquarters, giving him a subtle warning that made Jack instantly quiet down.
"Alright, alright, boys," you laughed. Din gave Jack a triumphant smirk as he returned the hose to the steel barrel to finish filling it up. "Grandpa has spoken, Buddy," you said, giving Jack a knowing look as you stroked Clyde's cheeks. "If you don't behave, Clyde's gonna wallup ya one. And after your little display, you'll be lucky if Din's gonna give you breakfast," you threatened the black menace, making him huff and look away from you.
However, Clyde wasn't done, because the older draft horse trotted after his younger, larger brother until he herded him to the opposite corner of the pen. Then, the elder stayed in the middle, between Jack and the humans, as if he were their own personal sentry.
In a very matter-of-fact, no-nonsense tone, Din announced, "Clyde's my favorite."
When he turned to look at you, he glowered at your pursed lips as you got your first full glimpse of his completely soaked wardrobe. A snort escaped you, and you quickly brought a hand to cover your mouth and nose. Din rolled his eyes at your failed attempts to smother your amusement. Not even a second later, you dissolved into a hysterical fit of laughter.
Try as he might, he couldn't help his own smile that crept across his face.
The memory still brought a quirk to his lips, especially when he decided he had had enough of your cackling at his expense and directed the hose at you and Grogu, careful only to do a short burst to avoid getting your bandage wet.
As punishment for getting your shirt wet, you had forced him to stay behind while you took the borrowed car to get the groceries.
Well, Din told himself you had forced him to stay behind, but he suspected you had picked up on how he bristled at the thought of returning to Walmart, and that you had only said that to make him feel better. He tried to argue, willing to make another attempt so you wouldn't have to walk around the large, sprawling store with your crutches, but you held up your phone.
"No walking required," you explained, making him confused. "Already put the order in on my phone. They bring it to the car and everything. I'll be gone an hour tops. In the meantime, you can work on digging some post holes for my fence while you're drying out." In your next breath, you had conjured a primitive contraption made of wood and metal, a shovel, and a large pair of leather gloves.
Din looked down the gravel drive, hoping to catch your vehicle returning, but nothing, save for the sounds of birds, crickets, and chickens clucking, could be heard. When one of those clucks turned into a high-pitched scream, Din sighed and turned his attention to the coop to find Grogu clutching a small white chicken with a long neck and so many feathers on the top of its head that you couldn't see its eyes.
"Grogu," he snapped, tilting his head to level a look at the toddler who was clutching the white chicken in a death hug against his chest. "Be nice to Dorothy's chickens, or they won't lay the eggs that make your omelets in the morning."
Grogu hesitated for a moment before releasing the poor bird from his clutches with a series of mumbled, unintelligible noises.
Din shook his head and looked up at the sky. The sun was high in the clear blue sky, and there were only a few small, random white, fluffy clouds that offered no relief from its rays. At least he'd had enough time to dry out, only for the sweat he'd worked up while digging post holes for your fence to cling to his skin and shirt instead. With a grunt, he gripped the wooden handles of the post-hole digger and yanked the metal mouth from the ground to finish the hole he was working on.
A small stretch of the white wooden fence that ran the length of the space between the gravel road and the field directly across from your house had been damaged by the winds of the storm that brought them here.
He accepted the task with a solemn nod.
This was something he could do. This was something he could fix.
Din grunted as he drove the metal end of the tool into the dirt.
He didn't know where his helmet was.
Grunt.
He didn't know how they got here.
Grunt.
Which meant he didn't even know where to start looking for how to get back.
Grunt.
And even if he did know how to get back to Tython, there was no way he could leave without his helmet, even if he could never wear it again, even if he could never call himself a Mandalorian again. That helmet was his.
Stars, that helmet wasn't just his; it was who he was. It was his whole identity.
A frustrated growl ripped from him as he angrily speared the dirt again. Din sucked in a ragged breath through clenched teeth, telling himself his eyes were burning from sweat, not tears.
He stopped, leaning against the wooden handles, when he felt a gentle touch on his calf. Din closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep grounding breath through his nose. Once he felt a fraction calmer, he opened his eyes and found Grogu clinging to the rough denim of his pant leg, looking up at him with his large, concerned eyes.
"Hey, kiddo," he murmured as he crouched closer to the womp rat, removing his leather gloves before gently rubbing the top of Grogu's head. "You doin' okay? Any magic powers yet?" he asked, wiggling his fingers at the kid.
Grogu cooed, latched onto his fingers, and tugged at them. Din smiled at the silent request as he scooped the kid up and stood back up. Grogu stared intently at his face and, as if sensing the ache in Din's chest, reached out to gently rest his hands on either side of his jaw.
Din smirked at the feel of the kid's tiny, clawed hands in his growing scruff, letting his head move back and forth, tickling Grogu's green palms with his prickly facial hair. Grogu gave him a big, toothy grin as he let his talons scratch through his scruff.
"Pretty funny looking, huh, kid?" Din said with a half-smile. Grogu blinked and tilted his head at his words before grabbing onto his nose. "Thanks for pointing that out," he grumbled, shaking his nose from the kid's grip. When Grogu's quiet giggles floated around him, Din couldn't help but smile - a real smile - one that managed to break through the heavy weight of his anger.
The kid's powers may not have returned yet, but it felt like magic when Grogu pulled a smile from him.
Grogu's ears perked a fraction of a second before the sound of tires on gravel reached his own ears, and Din tucked the kid against his chest as he watched you drive the borrowed vehicle up to your front porch.
"C'mon, kid," Din murmured, holding him tighter against his chest as he started to walk back to the farmhouse.
Grogu cooed and pointed at you as you slid out of the black vehicle, looking back at Din to make sure his guardian saw you too.
"Y'all finish with the holes already, or are ya just slackin' off?" you teased in greeting, giving him a quick wink.
Din opened his mouth to reply, but immediately snapped it shut when he saw what you were wearing. He knew you had changed so you weren't wearing wet clothes on your trip, but you had already been loaded up in the car before he waved you off.
Those confusing feelings he felt this morning came rushing back.
And Din thought that seeing you in your shorts last night was too much… There was no point in denying you were beautiful. He could recognize that even when he was concussed. However, he'd immediately stalled when he opened the privy door last night and was greeted by the sight of you and the expanse of skin before him. Not just beautiful, but effortlessly beautiful. Even with your hair wet, and skin flushed from the hot water of your shower. But now…
Now you were wearing a pair of tight black pants that clung to you like a second set of skin. The tight fabric didn't look particularly sturdy, but accentuated the swell of your hips and every curve, leaving nothing to his imagination. Your top was bright orange and flowed in the breeze, but the neckline plunged just enough to catch a glimpse of plush -
"Give me a hand?" you called, smiling at him as you opened the back hatch.
Grogu struck his jaw, letting out a quiet raspberry from his arms, and Din's mind rebooted. He cleared his throat and shot the kid a glare, quietly telling him to shut it as they approached.
Stars help him.
Din gulped, grimacing as his throat burned. What the karking hell was wrong with him? He was acting like a teenager who'd never seen a woman's body before. It's not even like you had stepped out of your vehicle naked - which was another thought that he immediately banished.
Din Djarin, the bounty hunter, had seen almost everything. He'd tracked quarries down in brothels. He once used a courtesan as an informant while hunting down a disgraced government official. Hell, one of his quarries a few years back gave him a strip show and flung her naked body into his lap, hoping that she could buy her freedom with her body. Then there was the disastrous incident with Xi'an… Din shuddered, not wanting to think about her or that. Ever.
However, it would seem that Din Djarin, the regular ole human, was stunned speechless by a low-cut blouse and a pair of skin-tight pants.
He blushed at the thought, missing his helmet and armor that much more. If he were wearing his normal attire, at least you wouldn't have been able to tell he was gawking at your figure or see his embarrassment so clearly on his face.
"Hey, you okay?" you questioned, concern dripping from your eyes as you studied him. "You look a bit flushed. Are you feeling okay?" you asked as you brought a hand up to his forehead. "I should have made sure you had plenty of water before I left. You've been out in the sun too long. Hopefully, you're not dehydrated or coming down with something -"
"I'm fine!" he all but yelped, stepping away from your hand on his face. He cleared his throat when you shared a look with Grogu, then returned your concerned gaze to his face. "Sorry," he mumbled, lowering his gaze to the ground as he tried to regain control of his body. "Was just thinking about my helmet." Not quite a lie, but not exactly the truth. However, his words seemed to have their intended effect.
When he finally risked a look up, your eyes softened, and you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Help me bring the bags inside and put some stuff away, and then we can take another look," you offered. Din immediately went to work, placing the kid on his shoulder before grabbing as many plastic bags as he could hold. "I still say we keep our search closer to the house and barn," you continued, grabbing the last two bags he couldn't hold or string on his forearms. "I was somewhere between the two when you landed, and if it's not in the field, then it has to be over here somewhere."
Din gave a grim smile, but nodded as he followed you inside. Grogu's fingers clutched his hair as he climbed the porch stairs, and even gave the curls a playful tug. Although he supposed that his hair would be something new for the kid to fixate on, considering he'd never had the opportunity to see them up close and personal until now. He walked slowly, noting that you were walking slightly better, already able to handle more weight on your injured leg than you should.
"The radio was saying that we might have a chance of storms this evening," you carried on, filling the silence as the two of you reached the kitchen.
Din hummed as he deposited his bags on the table in the middle of the kitchen. "Sit," he ordered, taking the two bags you were carrying. "Might as well learn where things go," he pointed out, smirking when you gave in and sank into your seat with a glare. "And I doubt it will do anything. There are only three clouds in the sky."
You scoffed and propped your legs up on the seat beside you, shaking your head as you said, "Yeah, but that means that if it does storm, it's gonna be bad." At his skeptical look, you responded with, "Trust me."
Din just shrugged and held up the first bag.
"Fridge," you ordered, pointing to the stainless steel cooler with double doors. "No, that's the freezer," you corrected when he opened the left door first. Din nodded, opening the correct door this time. "All of those can go in the very bottom drawer along with… this bag," you explained.
The two of you carried on like that, bag by bag, you passing him the next while Grogu supervised from his perch on his left shoulder as Din shuffled back and forth between the table, the cooler (fridge, you corrected), and the pantry. Bag by bag, Din put away vaguely familiar food: onions, potatoes, apples, bananas, learning where every item belonged. Naturally, the kid instantly recognized the yellow package that you explained was cookies, and almost toppled off his shoulder trying to reach for it.
His mouth watered at all the real food, the kind you have to cook with other ingredients to make it edible. Not the ration packs, dehydrated meals, and protein bars he normally stocked on the Crest. After Grogu accepted that there would be no cookies yet, he stopped tugging at his hair and watched intently as Din placed each item away.
When Din turned back to the table, there was one bag left, but your focus was directed at your small comm device.
"Everything okay?" he asked, noting your frown and furrowed brows.
You sighed and placed the device on the table to rub at your temples. "I texted Cassie before we headed to the barn this morning, and then tried to call her on the way to the store when she hadn't replied, but it went straight to voicemail. For someone who was prepared to call the National Guard on me when it took me a little bit to get back with her because someone," you paused to glare at him, "shot my old phone, she has apparently decided that the same rules don't apply to her."
"Maybe she's busy with her mother," Din suggested with a shrug.
"Yeah, that's what concerns me," you grumbled. At Din's head tilt, you explained, "Let's just say that our parental trauma runs deep." Din frowned at your vague explanation, but you were already moving on before he could prompt you for more information. "I just wanted to open the discussion about my new farmhand," you sighed, waving your hand in his direction. "I feel like I'm lying to my best friend because I haven't told her about you yet."
He shouldn't. He really shouldn't… but… He didn't like it when there wasn't a smile on your face.
"So I guess the sexy weirdo you told her stayed with you was someone else?"
Din contained his smile until after your cheeks flamed red. That embarrassed look, the way you paused as you went blank when he called you out on something, filled him with warmth.
"Yeah," you finally shot back, smirking up at him from your chair. "That guy wasn't a dick."
Din snorted and reached for the last bag, but you waved him off.
"It's okay, I've got this one."
Din sighed and reached for the bag again, but you pushed it out of his reach.
"Really, you don't have to."
"I didn't have to put away anything, but I offered," he countered, giving you an expectant look. "It's the last bag, and there's just one box in there. Just tell me where it goes."
You stared him down for a beat before you shrugged. "Fine. That one goes in the cabinet under the sink of the upstairs bathroom."
"Bathroom?" he snarled, pulling the box from the bag and looking at the unfamiliar words staring back at him. What food could you possibly be keeping in the privy?
"They're called tampons," you explained with a snort, mouth breaking into a wide smile. "Or do women not menstruate in your neck of the galaxy?"
Oh.
Din's face paled when he realized the purpose of the items in his hands. In his surprise, the box slipped from his hand and landed on the kitchen table with a loud thud that was hardly heard over your laughter.
"Oh, Spaceman," you wheezed, trying to regain control of your hysterical laughter. "Sorry - Your face!"
Din heaved a sigh, tamping down his embarrassment, before snatching the box back off the table. "Bottom cabinet, upstairs bathroom," he grumbled, doing an about-face and stalking toward the stairs, shaking his head as your laughter bubbled higher.
"Grogu," Din sighed as they reached the top of the stairs. When the kid chirped, he turned his head to look at the child perched on his left shoulder. "Tell me it's okay to go find someone else, anyone else, from Earth to help us."
The angry raspberry was all Din needed to hear before he released another sigh and continued his trudge to the bathroom.
After a quick sandwich and water bottles in hand, the three of you headed back out into the warm, humid afternoon.
It had taken him five whole minutes before he noticed you'd conveniently left your crutches behind. Din turned around, but you stopped him from retrieving them by grabbing his wrist.
"Look, I've barely been limping. I swear it feels okay!" you promised, clutching his wrist in your hand to prevent him from going back to your home for the crutches. "It's only going to slow us down. Besides, if it starts to hurt, I promise to use you as a crutch."
Din's annoyed glower melted into something softer - something uncomfortable - when you gave him a playful wink before giving his wrist a little tug as your thumb brushed across the sensitive skin along the underside.
Not to confuse uncomfortable with something bad, because there was not a single bad thought in his mind when your thumb continued to stroke the underside of his wrist. Uncomfortable in the sense that, one, he wasn't used to people caressing his bare skin, and, two, if he put on his bounty hunter lenses, Din Djarin was fairly certain you were flirting with him.
But you weren't trying to get out of a bounty. You'd made it clear that you didn't need him. In fact, you were trying to help him. Which made your behavior curious, because flirting with him wasn't going to get you anything. Unless you intended to set him off-kilter, in which case you succeeded. What other reason would you have for your behavior?
The moment seemed to end before he could analyze it further.
You gave him a soft, embarrassed smile before you released his wrist and slipped a band from your wrist to tie your hair up, pulling it off your neck. "C'mon, now that we've checked under the porch, let's move to the vegetable garden."
That uncomfortable feeling flared when your hand dropped, leaving the skin where your grip was feeling cold at the loss of contact.
Your words from last night floated back to the forefront of his thoughts, taunting him with possibilities.
A break.
A chance.
A chance to be someone he hadn't been in a very long time.
A chance to be Din Djarin, the regular ole human, not Din Djarin the Mandalorian nor the bounty hunter.
A chance to learn who he would have been had he not lost his homeworld - had he not taken the Creed.
You hadn't removed his helmet in battle. He hadn't removed it for you. It was truly an unfortunate circumstance…
Maybe… Maybe he should embrace this unexpected opportunity as you suggested. What if he allowed himself to succumb to his baser instincts? Could he? Could he allow himself to take this break - this chance - to enjoy himself? And once he returned to Tython with his helmet in place, no one would know…
His feet moved after you. Din nervously wiped his palms on his jeans as he caught up to you again. You were watching Grogu toddle along the perimeter of your vegetable garden with a smile on your face.
No one would know.
A gust of wind made him stop before he reached you. His breath stilled in his chest as he watched the wind blow the tendrils of your hair across your face and your orange blouse. When you looked back at him, your smile was like a shock to the nervous system. With that smile, he let all of those chances he had started to consider blow away with the warm breeze.
And just like that, the confusing tides withdrew, leaving him clear-headed.
Because he would know.
"Hey," you called, quietly, mistaking the disappointed look on his face. "We're gonna find it. I promise."
Din nodded, forced a smile, and offered you his arm. The smile returned to your face, but for him, it was a double-edged sword.
He escorted you through your garden, listening as you explained what you were planning to plant and where this year. Lots of cucumbers for you to experiment with pickling recipes. Tomatoes, green beans, pumpkins, the list went on, and Din listened to every word as he pushed his confusing feelings aside.
The two of you walked arm in arm around the property nearest to your home. You searched the gardens, under the front and back porches, overturned buckets, planters, and tree branches as you went. Grogu insisted on walking the entire time, forcing you both to stop and wait for him to catch up. Anytime either of you tried to pick him up, he would squirm out of your arms until he was back on the ground.
"Let him have his fun," you said, bumping into his side. "I say we still have… oh… another couple of hours before the storm comes through?"
Din looked up at the bright yellow orb in the clear blue sky before returning skeptical eyes to you.
"I'm telling you. The bad leg doesn't lie."
"So metal detectors and predicting the weather," he teased.
"I'm a woman of many talents," you shrugged, unable to hold back your smile as you held your head high.
Din's deep chuckle brought a similar one bubbling up from your chest.
So what if his arm gripped yours a little tighter?
By the time you made it to the barn, Din's smile dropped at the sight of the looming black monstrosity grazing in the field.
"Now, now," you tutted, giving his arm a patronizing pat. "That's why we came prepared."
Din sighed and reluctantly released your arm to dig into his back pocket and pull out a clear plastic bag of sliced apples to show you he still had them, then slid them back in until the time came.
While the horses were in the field, you suggested taking advantage of the empty barn and searching here before moving to the pasture. Well, he searched the barn while you studied the hole in the barn roof.
"I didn't even see the hole in the wall," you pouted, pointing to the broken-out wooden pieces that led to the pasture. "What are the odds I could talk you into getting up on the roof and putting a tarp over the hole before it rains again?"
"Sure," he mumbled absently, poking a pitchfork into a bale of hay to see if his helmet was hiding in the depths of the bound, yellow straw, to no avail.
"I'm gonna go check out in the pasture for a little bit before we call it a day," you called as you exited through the back door of the barn with Grogu speedwalking on your heels. "I want to make sure we've got time to get the tarp up before it storms."
Once he was alone, Din jabbed the pitchfork into the hay and brought his hands up to cover his face.
What was he doing?
On this planet.
Thinking he could take a break.
Thinking about you in ways he shouldn't. Ways that would lead to attachment. Ways that he should not be thinking about someone he'd only known for a few days. Ways he shouldn't, knowing that once his helmet was back on his head, his break would be over, and he would be back amongst his lost stars, and the woman he met on Earth would be another character in the story of his life he would never see again.
Maybe his body was still adapting to this new planet. That would explain the tumultuous, confusing feelings plaguing him.
He'd already broken his Creed by losing his helmet. He didn't need any more sins hanging over his head. He didn't want to watch that spark leave your eyes when he told the kind, soft healer of his body count.
Din took a deep breath in through his nose and steeled himself.
He would find his helmet.
He would find a way back to Tython.
He would find Grogu a Jedi.
And then, once he fulfilled his vows, he would find his tribe's new covert and fall on his knees before the Armorer.
His calloused fingertips dug into his face as he pulled them down, and with one final breath, he squared his shoulders and followed the path you'd gone out the door into the field.
The bright afternoon sun hit his face the moment he stepped outside. He could hear you talking to Grogu around the corner, so he went the opposite direction, searching the other side of the barn for his helm. Not because he was avoiding you, because he wasn't. He was just broadening the search grid. It had nothing to do with wanting to avoid you or your smile. It had nothing to do with not allowing you to crack through his newly patched up, weak defenses with your beauty, humor, or the way those black, skin-tight leggings hugged your curves perfectly.
A soft, nearby huff pulled his attention from his distracted search, and he braced himself for the bane of his existence, only to relax immediately when he found Bonnie and Clyde munching on grass not far from him, watching him intently.
"Glad it's you two," he said, greeting them with an easy smile as he pulled his secret weapon from his back pocket. "Rather give these to you guys anyway."
Din cracked the seal on the bag open and offered an apple slice to each. Both of the large draft horses seemed to perk up at his offering and walked in sync to accept their treat. A quiet chuckle escaped him when their velvet mouths and whiskers tickled his palms as they each gently took their respective slices from his open palms.
"Patu."
Din turned his smile to the kid, watching him feed apple slices to Bonnie and Clyde from the other corner of the barn. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Needing no further invitation, Grogu shuffled across the concrete foundation, grunting every few steps until he reached his guardian.
Din stooped down to pick the child up and withdrew another apple slice from the bag before slipping the rest into his back pocket. "Gotta save the rest for -" A loud, excited whinny came from the other side of the barn, and four sets of eyes turned to watch Jack hoof at the mud puddle, splashing it everywhere before bolting in the opposite direction. "That," Din deadpanned, sharing another look with the two senior horses as he split the slice in two.
They were the perfect size for Grogu's palms, and Din nodded at the child to take them. For a brief moment, he half-expected the kid to eat them himself, but after a moment, Grogu apparently thought better of it and reached out his stubby arms to offer each senior a piece.
Clyde immediately leaned in to accept the sweet treat, but Bonnie seemed more interested in the green alien toddler in Din's arms than the red apple that the toddler was holding for her. Her large nostrils sniffed his head and ears as she inspected him, eliciting a shrill squeal of delight from Grogu when her whiskers tickled his cheek, before her mouth moved to take her portion from his clawed hand.
"C'mon," he said, reaching out to scratch Bonnie and Clyde between the eyes before carrying Grogu to the other side of the barn, where he assumed you were.
Grogu waved goodbye to the other horses before tucking himself against Din's chest and letting out a sleepy yawn.
"You're not getting tired already, are ya, kiddo?" he murmured, bringing his free hand to ruffle the kid's ears.
"Bah," the child grumbled as he tried to bat Din's hands away, only to giggle when Din moved his fingers to tease the kid's stomach.
However, Din's smile faded when he rounded the corner of the barn and found you.
Found you karking bent over to inspect something in the mud puddle, giving him the perfect view of your karking ass in those karking tights.
"Maker," he muttered under his breath, directing his gaze to the sky above him. "You're testing me, aren't you?" he asked no one. When none of the gods or the sun answered him, he closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.
Only before he could find his composure, he felt a puff of air against his cheek, not from the slice of the wind, which was starting to intensify as the afternoon progressed, but rather a warm, gentle puff of air from something living. With a disgruntled sigh, Din dropped his head and opened his eyes.
You were standing there, staring at him with that smirk you had right before you did something that annoyed him. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of the creature breathing on him.
"Jack," came his resigned greeting as he turned his head to acknowledge the newest pain in his ass.
"When you're done losing your macho man staring contest with my horse, come look at this."
Din's head whipped to shoot you a withering glare, but it only made you smile brighter. The kind of smile that could light up even the darkest rooms. The kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle in mischief and brought a healthy blush to your cheeks. The kind that made those confusing feelings he tried so hard to tamp down start to simmer under his skin.
That was the smile he would remember you by when it was time to leave.
"Not having a staring contest with your horse," he grumbled, turning to leave the sleek black behemoth behind and join you.
Jack let out a grating huff before trailing after him.
"Jackass is an appropriate name," Din said as he reached your side.
"Whoever had him before me named him Blackjack," you explained, keeping your eye on the barn. "But sixteen-year-old me just liked Jack. He earned the rest of his name himself."
"You don't say," Din deadpanned, pulling his attention from the hole in the side of your barn to level another glare at the horse in question after Jack nudged his hip with his large head.
The quirk of your lips was the only indication you gave that you heard his comment before you pointed at the hole in the wall. "I could see the hole in the roof from the house, but I guess I missed this one," you started, moving back to align yourself with the hole. "But if you look just right, it almost looks like something shot through the barn."
"Uh-huh," Din mumbled, half-paying attention to you while trying to juggle a squirming toddler who had just spotted a frog and your horse, which kept nudging his hip.
"Almost like they are entrance and exit wounds."
"And?" he sighed, giving in and letting Grogu chase the frog so he could try to focus on what you were saying.
"He can smell the apples in your back pocket," you chuckled as you turned to look out across the mud puddle.
"Yeah, and if he gives me a second, I'll give him one," Din shot back, giving a pointed look at a horse.
He'd gone from his arch-nemesis being a Moff for the Empire to a karking horse.
Oh, how the once mighty Mandalorian had fallen.
Din turned from Jack to join you at the edge of the large mud puddle. He clocked Grogu running as fast as he could after the frog leaping away from him, and Din wondered how frustrated the child was that he didn't have his powers to help him.
"So," he breathed. "Entrance and exit wounds?" he asked, looking out over the mud.
The patch stretched from the barn to the perimeter fence, likely formed by the horses stomping out the grass in this area. The edges were drying, but just a step in was still a thick, viscous substance that looked as if it would pull you under if given the opportunity. The ball that had startled Jack yesterday evening was still stuck in the mud, its blue, red, and white patches barely visible through the brown mud caking it.
Another nudge at his hip pulled his attention from the mud to the demanding horse. Jack's complete attention was directed to the plastic bag containing his precious apple slices, which was poking out from his back pocket.
Din shook his head and returned his attention to you, noticing your eyes locked on the ball, studying it with a strange expression. "Dorothy?"
However, before you could explain anything, Sir Jackass decided he had waited long enough for his treat and knocked his large, blockhead against Din's back.
Hard.
Hard enough to send him crashing into you.
"Hey!" you screeched, while Din cursed as he tried to grab onto you to at least save one of you from the embarrassment of falling face-first into the mud.
Unfortunately, the two of you were a tangle of arms and legs, each trying to save yourselves, until you pulled just a touch too hard on his arm, knocking him off balance and sending you both toppling into the mud.
There was a moment of silence that settled over the outside, when even the wind died down, setting an ominous tone over the land.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" came the first sound breaking through the moment as your rage echoed around them.
Din was flat on his back, looking up at the blue sky. Judging by how far his body sank into it, he could now confirm that the puddle was deeper than he anticipated. Din's head rolled to his left in time to watch you prop yourself up with your elbows. Your face was a turbulent storm, attempting to settle on one emotion in particular, while you sat in the mud, and clumps fell from the back of your head, painting your right cheek and orange shirt.
"Unbelievable," you growled dangerously, glaring daggers at Jack.
Only when Din turned to send an equally dangerous glare at your horse did his glare falter upon seeing Grogu standing there as well. He had to blink because surely the kid wasn't holding what he thought he was.
The loud snap of the seal breaking on the clear plastic bag confirmed that the kid did, in fact, have what he thought he had. It would seem that, in the middle of the flurry, in the seconds before both of you crashed into the mud, Sir Jackass managed to snag the bag containing the apple slices Din was holding onto.
You both watched, too stunned to move, as Grogu took a bite of the slice, then offered what was left to Jack, who hovered eagerly over the toddler for his treat.
"That mudscuffer."
His head swiveled in sync with yours, and he shared a dumbfounded look with you. Your mouth hung open, too stunned to say anything.
Finally, a huff escaped you, followed by a low chuckle.
Din smiled, sharing in your quiet laughter, before you both broke.
You collapsed back beside him, your laughter leaving you breathless, while Din's laughter came out in weak wheezes until he realized he was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. Simultaneously, you both lifted your heads from the mud and watched Grogu munch on another apple slice, then passed what remained to Jack, sending you both into another hysterical fit.
Din struggled to catch his breath while you were already trying to sit up.
When you reached out to swat his shoulder, he laughed and batted your hand away. "Hey!"
"I can't believe you!"
"Me?!" he shot back, but relaxed when he saw no real anger in your eyes.
"All you had to do was give him a fucking apple!" you groaned, playfully shoving at his shoulder.
Din snatched your wrist before you could pull away. "I was going to!" he defended, his smile matching yours. "All your horse had to do was wait for another kriffing second, and I was gonna give him one!" At your scoff, he continued, "Actually, if you want to blame someone, you can blame yourself."
"Me?" you gasped, attempting to pull your hand back. Din kept his loose grip on your wrist. Firm enough to keep you from hitting him, but loose enough that you could easily pull it away if you really wanted to. "I'm not the one withholding treats from the one horse you were supposed to give the peace offering to! And I'm also not the one who sent us both into the biggest mud pit in the county!"
"You've turned that thing into a demanding, self-entitled monstrosity that thinks it can do whatever it wants!"
You let out a gasp and stretched your hand, the one with your wrist still in his grasp, until your fingers streaked mud across his cheek. "You take that back! That is my son!" you defended, using your free hand to point back at the black horse, watching you from the outskirts of the puddle beside Grogu. "He is my own flesh and blood!" Din rolled his eyes, which seemed only to spur you on. "Don't roll your eyes at me, Spaceman! I will remind you that he saved our lives last night!"
"I had it under control!" he defended with a low, rumbling chuckle as he watched you shift, pulling yourself up to your knees to tower over him.
"Just like you had it under control before you shoved me into the mud along with you?"
"I was attempting to save you! You karking insufferable, woman!" he laughed, shaking his head at you as you attempted to find purchase to stand up stubbornly.
"Insufferable?" you gasped, eyes as wide as your mouth.
Din saw your strike coming and let go of your wrist, crossing his arms over his chest to block the slap he correctly predicted.
You wobbled precariously once his hand left your wrist, no longer balancing you. "You're such a dick!" you shouted, but your words, combined with your laughter, sent you off balance.
Din watched helplessly as your foot slipped, sending your upper body lurching over his. Your hand shot out to stop yourself, but ended up landing on the ball, which slid across the mud, sending your body along with it. In an attempt to keep you from falling face-first into the mud again, Din grabbed your hips to keep you still. You slipped and fumbled for a second longer before you gave in and collapsed on top of him.
"That was all you, Dorothy."
At Din's chuckled accusation, you lifted your head from his chest to glare at him. "Oh, I'm gonna make you pay, Spaceman," you threatened, shifting to brace your hands on either side of his chest.
You began to lift yourself from him, but when Din's hands gripped your hips tighter, ready to help push you up, you froze.
Din was about to ask you what was wrong before he realized the very precarious, intimate position the two of you had found yourselves in.
Your legs were straddling his waist, while your torso hovered over his, with your lips precariously close to his.
Din's eyes locked on yours, and he was fairly certain that the next planet over heard the dry, nervous gulp he gave.
Your eyes were wide, likely with surprise or embarrassment at your position, but neither of you moved.
Din's eyes flicked to your lips, losing the battle to keep all those uncomfortable, confusing feelings at bay.
When you broke into a slow smile, he blinked in confusion as the playful spark in your eyes shifted to one of sadness.
"Dorothy?" he murmured, prepared for the fact that he was about to break the strange bubble surrounding you in that moment.
"The soccer ball was deflated," you whispered, giving him another sad smile.
"Huh?"
"Just remember that I was the first girl who told you that you had a nice smile."
Din frowned at that, but before he could ask any follow-up questions, he froze as your right hand lifted from his chest and closed the distance to his cheek. His eyes went wide as you tenderly cupped his jaw, and your thumb stroked through the coarse scruff there. Everything seemed to stop around them except for his traitorous heart pounding against his chest.
He couldn't breathe, couldn't blink, couldn't do anything as your thumb stroked the corner of his lips and found his head leaning into your palm, seemingly on its own accord, seeking your warmth.
And then the moment was over before it began.
"I want the full fashion show," you whispered as you pulled your hand from his face and sat up straighter.
Din sat there frozen in confusion, hands still on your hips as you twisted your upper body and reached somewhere to his right where the mud sank deeper.
"We couldn't see it with the mud, and because the soccer ball deflated and molded to it," you continued, grunting as you pulled something from the mud.
Din's breath caught in his chest for the second time in as many minutes when you brought the mud-encased object you pulled from the mud to hold before him. He was too stunned to move as he watched you study it for a moment, likely determining where the front was before bringing the hem of your shirt to it to wipe some of the mud away.
Din's heart nearly exploded right there when you spun it in your hands so he could get a better view.
There, in your hands, was his helmet. Mud coated most of the surface, except for the very front, where you tried to wipe the mud away, leaving brown streaks across the black, transparisteel T of his visor.
"I think this belongs to you."
With trembling hands, he released your hips and cautiously reached for the beskar helm in your hands.
The world faded and blurred until all he could see was his helmet.
Mud and grime aside, it appeared structurally intact. With a good cleaning and a polish, he'd have it back to new in no time.
There was no more confusion about the emotions flooding his chest. They took hold, casting out an anchor, tethering his unmoored, adrift soul back to his body.
Warmth.
Comfort.
Safety.
Peace.
For the first time since landing on this backwater skughole, Din Djarin finally felt whole again.
🌪️ A/N: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. So many things going on. I really do love this chapter. I hope y'all enjoyed Din's new arch-nemesis 🤣 Now, friends, we are gonna switch back to Dorothy for the next chapter. Chapter 10 will complete our first "Act," so to speak, and we are gonna get our first flashback... so... brace yourself.
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
🧡 Tag List: @racheldon @leeroyjagginz @djarins-cyare @higgsvoidout @abandonedreaper @brunlocc @foreignbrunette
Please drop a comment or send me a message if you'd like to be added to the tag list 🧡
Last song: I'll Follow You - Shinedown. 00-10's angst rock soothes my soul. My soul is a divorced dad, apparently. 🤔
Currently watching: Dangerous Beauty One of my comfort movies. 16th-century Venice, young Catherine McCormack and Rufus Sewell, need I say more? 🥵
Current Obsession: PPCU always. Forever. ❤️ Also, caprese salad because my basil plant is exploding and I just got my first tomatoes of the season! Yum!
Currently reading: Nothing. Might give Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid another go. I like a lot of her other books, but I got about halfway through that one and DNF.
Fic: The Devil's Pilot by @vodkaandpizza, The Catfish Invasion by @isabellaboo2025, Spitting Image by Hinder, and Country Roads by @itsjuststardust
Currently working on: Nothing Personal: DinLuke Vegas 70's AU, Teenage Dirtbag, Baby!: AU Teen!Din prequel to a finished fic. I shared my AO3 links because my Tumblr Masterlist is kind of a mess right now. 😅
Last internet search: Yet more research on overdose treatment in the early 70's... yes, that is a spoiler.
npt: @moonknightly @kokoluwie @isabellaboo2025 @itsjuststardust @alexaprilgarden @savedyounine @mandobogwitch @lunarichards1989 @annwrites24 and anyone else I missed who wants to do this! ❤️
Thanks for tagging me @awkwardpaws I've never done one of these before 😅
Last song: Just finished screaming along to "One of the Greats" by Florence + the Machine 🎵
Currently watching: Just restarted one of my comfort shows - The Office (but the Superfan episodes) ♥️
Current Obsession: PPCU always. Forever. ❤️ (same, girl) Now that it is summer, I am back into kayaking as much as possible ☀️ 🚣♂️
Currently reading: Just finished "Heir of Fire" by Sarah J Maas in the TOG series, and am getting ready to start "Queen of Shadows".
Fic: Currently rotating through: Hush by @djarins-cyare, The Ghosts of Bogotá by @vodkaandpizza, and have been absolutely DEVOURING terms & conditions by @followyourfleart
Currently working on: Country Roads - A story about a man and his radioactive Furby from outer space who falls out of the sky onto your truck. Heaven in Hiding - A complicated, world-building, ultra-novel about a former ballerina and the Mandalorian (which has taken a brief hiatus while I maniacally go through and edit previous chapters as I procrastinate finishing the story because I'm not ready to say goodbye just yet). There is also an untitled, unposted Last of Us fic that's been on the back burner while my ADHD self attempts to wrangle the two stories I have going on.
Last internet search: Pictures and articles about the Screw Worm infestation that finally made it to Texas 😱
I will put forth this silly, fun game to a handful of the moots I've made along the way: @vodkaandpizza(although I saw you already did it 🪦) @djarins-cyare @racheldon @leeroyjagginz @roughdaysandart
🌪️ Chapter Summary: April 4th, twenty twenty-something: the day you thought would never end finally comes to a close.
🌪️ Pairings: Fem!Earthling!Reader x Din Djarin
🌪️ Word Count: 11.2k
🧡 Author's Note: Apologies for the delay with this chapter. Real life/adulting is a lot, and then I got sick on top of that. So, to express my gratitude for all the love, I present to you 11.2k words of fluff and a sprinkle of backstory.
AO3 Link to Ch 8
Chapter 8: Regular Ole Humans
April fourth, twenty twenty-something
"Dorothy?" Din's tentative whisper came as the orange sun kissed the horizon, bathing the land in a soft, warm, orange-pink glow.
You heard his words, but now that the crisis was seemingly over and the adrenaline was beginning to fade, you were left a trembling, terrified mess who couldn't stop crying.
"I got shot," you eventually managed to sputter. Hell, those were the only words you could process in the moment.
"I know," Din murmured as his thumb gently stroked your knuckles. "Let's get you fixed up," came his quiet words of encouragement.
Shot.
I got shot.
The words tumbled over themselves on repeat.
Shot.
On your own property.
Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever imagined that there would come a day that you would be the one taking a gunshot - err, phaser shot to the leg. You were a nurse. You treated gunshot victims. It wasn't supposed to be the other way around. Not only did you get shot, but you'd been shot by a fucking evil robot from fucking outer space.
What were the odds of that happening?
You had been shot.
Your Spaceman was still beside you, still holding your hand, staring at you with brown eyes full of concern, probably thinking you were being overly dramatic. He was a fucking bounty hunter from outer space with his own phaser. Blaster, you corrected yourself. He was probably wondering why you were hysterical. Getting shot was probably a daily occurrence for him.
However, that wasn't the case for you.
You never wanted getting shot at to be normal for you.
None of this was normal for you - Strangers getting dropped by a tornado and ruining your pickup, black Death Troopers, getting shot.
Oh, and don't forget the tiny green alien strapped to your chest.
You'd been shot by an alien robot with an alien baby strapped to you.
With unfocused eyes, you started to wonder if that strange blue-green lightning that lit up the sky moments before it dropped the intergalactic Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz onto your truck had instead struck your pickup. That must be it. You'd been electrocuted or picked up by the tornado and were stuck in a coma or something. That would make more sense than the scenario you found yourself in.
"Dorothy?" your Spaceman tried again, almost hesitantly, after you didn't respond to his earlier offer of getting you fixed up. "C'mon, let's get you inside." He tugged at your hand, and you let yourself be pulled from your prone position to sit beside him on the ground.
You sat there in a daze, knowing that you must look like a mess. Dirt clung to your skin, clothes, and hair. Ugh, you didn't even want to imagine what your hair looked like after riding for almost two hours and then falling off Jack. You were a dirt-covered, blood-caked, disheveled mess who was still in too much shock to get in gear to get inside and treat your injuries.
With a glance at your Spaceman, you found it unfair that after almost two hours in the sun, the brawl with the metal contraption only increased his attractiveness. The only dirt on him was from sliding across the ground to dodge the robot's phaser attack. The light sweat along the man's brow and arms made his tanned skin almost glow in the setting sun's light. And for someone who just survived a life-or-death altercation, his hair had the messy, "I just rolled out of bed" look that most men could never achieve, no matter how hard they tried. Then there was the man's chiseled jaw, making him appear as if he'd been carved by the Romans of ancient times. The shadow that had begun to cover his jaw yesterday had transformed from a five o'clock shadow into the beginnings of a scruffy, patchy beard, only adding to his handsome, rugged look.
Meanwhile, you just pulled a twig from your hair.
So unfair.
The last few days had to be some huge cosmic joke. Any moment now, you were confident that you would wake up in the ICU again and never hear the end of it from Cassie. This had to be some kind of strange dream, and you just needed to wake the fuck up, because there was no way you just got shot by a robot, and now had the universe's most handsome Spaceman-Bounty Hunter kneeling beside you.
Your eyes slid back to the killing machine, crushed from the tree, now possessing a giant cavity in its chest with wires sticking out from it, compliments of Jack. You couldn't take your eyes off the robot - You couldn't stop reliving those terrifying moments over and over.
What would have happened if a tree hadn't crushed it? The top half of the demonic device could bend, twist, and move with such ease that you had a hard time processing that it was made of metal and wires and not a living being. You'd never seen anything that advanced except on the screen. If the bottom half could move just as easily, could it walk? Run? Would it have tracked you down because your house was the closest thing to it? Would it have wandered until it found your town with its small Main Street? And then what?
Maybe more importantly, why was it after Din and Grogu to begin with? And if there were more, would they still be hunting for their target?
Jack's nose leaned down to nuzzle your head, and you gently ran your hands up and down his soft, velvet snout to soothe him. You should let Din help you up and get you out of the dirt so you can start tending to your injury, but you couldn't stop staring at the decimated black robot that dealt the wound to your calf. There wasn't much time before you would need to deal with your injury and release the makeshift tourniquet Din fashioned out of your jeans, but you were frozen in fear by the death machine only a few feet away from you.
"Why was that thing after you guys?" Turbulent brown eyes and a serious face stared back at you. "I thought you were the bounty hunter. Unless things are different in outer space, shouldn't you be the one tracking the bad robots down?"
Din pulled a deep breath through his nose before replying, "Will you please let me help you get inside? I promise to explain to the best I can once I know you're okay."
"Yeah, but what are we going to do with that?" you whispered, pointing to the Death Trooper or whatever Din had called it.
"Let's not worry about that right now," Din tried to suggest. "We can deal with it once we get you patched up."
You shook your head. "We need to take that thing back to the house with us," you told him, voice still quiet, but slowly strengthening.
"I will," Din reassured you. "But it can wait until we get you back."
You shook your head again. Hadn't stopped shaking your head in utter disbelief, actually, because this whole scenario was insane. "We can't risk someone finding it. It needs to come back with us now. We can lock it up in the storm shelter until we can figure out what to do with it," you argued as dozens of worst-case scenarios flooded your mind. "That," you paused to point at the black evil robot of death, "is like nothing I've ever seen before, except for in like, TV or the movies. If someone finds that out here, there are gonna be a lot of questions that I don't know how to answer. I certainly can't answer them without telling them about you and Grogu. Or - Or what if someone else finds it? What if the neighbor's cattle get out, and he comes looking for them and finds that? What if the government finds out about it? What if the government already knows about it?"
"Dorothy."
"What if they come and take you and Grogu along with them?!" Din's softening brown eyes only increased your panic. "What if they manage to get it working again? Will it come straight back here looking for you guys?"
"Dorothy," his calming voice stopped your spiraling thoughts. However, when you finally focused on Din, his lips had flattened into a grimace as his brown eyes shifted to the robot, then back to you. "I can't carry both of you. Let me get you back to your house, and then I'll come back and get it."
"I don't need to be carried," you huffed, already shifting to stand on your own two feet to demonstrate your prowess. Unfortunately, the second you got your feet under you, the pain from your injury shot through your leg, making you falter.
Of course, it had to be your bad leg that got shot, which was probably only making matters worse. Mentally and physically.
Fortunately, Din was right there to keep you from falling flat on your ass.
"Thanks," came your embarrassed mumble. "I just need some help standing up, and then I think I can handle it from there."
Din sighed, his hands on your upper arms, and eased you back to the ground. "Will that thing let me touch it?" he asked, nodding to the black draft horse staring down at the man hovering precariously close to you.
Honestly, it was a miracle that Jack hadn't tried to take another bite at him just for touching you. Instead, you said, "That thing's name is Jack, and he just saved all of our lives." Din's wary eyes met Jack's, and an eyebrow ticked up when your horse let out a huff. "What do you want to do with Jack?"
"I figured I could throw what's left of the droid over his saddle and have him carry it back while I help you," he explained, still locking eyes with Jack.
"What do you think, buddy?" you asked your horse, reaching for his muzzle again. "Think you can behave yourself? For me?" You gave his cheeks a few scratches before sliding your hands up his bridle, flipping the reins back over his head to pass them off to Din.
With a dubious look, Din gripped the leather reins as he stood. "Teeth to yourself," he warned Jack, bringing a smile to your face as he tugged on the reins.
Jack bobbed his head and huffed, but refused to allow Din to lead him away from you. "Go," you sighed, swatting his elbow. Jack's ears twitched and tail flicked in irritation, but he finally obliged, hooves clopping slowly across the dirt past you to follow after Din.
Warily, you watched as Din began to pry the robot out from under the downed tree trunk. At Grogu's quiet coo, you pulled him out of the baby harness and cradled him in your arms, hoping he felt supported rather than having to support you as you tried to discreetly wipe more tears from your cheeks.
Uncertainties flickered through your mind. Anxiety that the robot wasn't dead and would come to life and kill all of you in the blink of an eye. Fears that you weren't the right person the universe should have entrusted to care for the two travelers you'd offered your home to. What did you know about aliens or space? How were you supposed to help guide them on their journey back home without getting them injured or abducted by the government?
With a firm tug, Din freed the black robot but ended up severing it at the waist, leaving long strings of wires and its legs and feet still sticking out on the other side of the tree trunk.
Definitely not in Kansas anymore.
When Din picked the top half of the black robot off the ground and carried it to place it across Jack's saddle, Jack took a couple of steps away from Din, keeping a solid two feet between them, no matter how your Spaceman tried to approach him.
"Jack," you scolded, glaring at the stubborn draft horse.
Your Spaceman didn't let Jack's ornery streak faze him. "It's okay," Din murmured, keeping his voice calm as he looked Jack in the eyes. "It's not gonna hurt anyone anymore, thanks to you." Din took a step closer to Jack, and you smiled when Jack didn't inch away. "I just need your help getting it back so I can help Dorothy."
When Jack still didn't move, Din slowly and cautiously hoisted the robot's upper body to rest over the saddle. Once it was balanced, Din gave the draft horse a wary look as he took a quick step away, probably expecting another nip, but Jack thankfully behaved himself. For once. Another warm smile spread across your face as you watched Din tentatively extend his hand, and after a brief sniff, Jack nuzzled his nose into your Spaceman's palm.
"Everything's gonna be okay," you breathed, stroking the top of Grogu's head. Whether you were reassuring the alien child or yourself was uncertain, but both of you relaxed when it became clear that the robot showed no signs of resurrection.
You and Grogu watched Din finish the task at hand. The man's arms bulged, and he growled as he rolled the trunk of the tree until he could slip the lower half and the wires out, then add them to the pile on Jack's saddle. Once Din seemed confident that the battle-bot was balanced appropriately, he led Jack back to where you were still seated on the ground.
"That's my boy," you beamed at the horse towering over you. Grogu cooed, and you both chuckled as Jack moved to lick the salt from your tears on your cheek again. "I'm okay, buddy," you assured him.
Din cast an expectant look down at you before saying, "Your turn," as he crouched beside you.
"I just need help standing up," you told him as you tucked Grogu back into the harness strapped to your chest so you could use both hands for balance. "I can use you or Jack to help me limp back." At Din's skeptical twitch of an eyebrow, you glared at him. "It's not that far," you defended, pointing to the house in the near distance.
And by not far, you were guessing you were about a quarter of a mile from your front porch, but it could have been worse. This could have happened at your property line, and at that point, you might as well dig your own grave, because there was no way you'd limp back from there.
Sensing you weren't giving up, Din heaved a sigh and nodded. He held his hands out, and you settled your elbows in his palms, bracing your forearms across his as he helped you to your feet. Your teeth clenched against the pain, and you shook your head. Unfortunately, it appeared that your leg had gone numb from the tourniquet. While you couldn't feel the injury, your numb noodle-leg kept you from putting any real weight on it.
"Damn it," you muttered under your breath when you gave up, easing yourself back to the ground, tears of embarrassment brimming in your eyes.
Now is not the time to break down, you told yourself. Although it was your bad leg, and the pain reminded you too much of your accident, you couldn't break down. You couldn't let yourself slip back to those terrible days. Your Spaceman and his Furby needed your help, and you had to ensure the evil death robot was locked underground before you could let yourself fall apart. You had almost psyched yourself up enough to give standing another go when Din's question caught you by surprise.
"Is this a hug moment?" he asked with a sympathetic shrug, and you couldn't help but let out a watery half-cry-half-laugh at the thoughtful offer.
You shared a smirk with him and nodded. "I wouldn't say no to one right now."
Din leaned in, and you allowed your hands to wrap around his neck to cling to him, drawing as much strength and warmth from the embrace before you - Before you were suddenly moving.
What you thought had been Din's awkward attempt at a half-hug was actually his right arm bracing your back while his left slipped under your knees, and the bastard had you in the air and was on his feet before you could blink again.
"You cheat!" you accused with a gasp, ignoring the way his chest rumbled against you when he chuckled. "I can walk!"
"Sure, you can," came his patronizing response, with a large, shit-eating grin despite your glare.
The sound of huffing came moments before Jack's giant nostrils ruffled your hair as he came up to sniff you. "I give you permission to bite him again." Instead of following your orders, Jack chuffed and bobbed his head, looking incredibly amused by the situation you'd found yourself in.
"I think we're friends now," Din commented with a smirk.
"Traitor," you whispered to Sir Jackass and let one arm loose from Din's neck to snatch the leather reins dangling beside you. "Alright, giddy up," you ordered with a pat to your Spaceman's shoulder, smirking when Din's smile fell, and his eyes rolled at your command.
With a shake of his head, Din marched towards your home in the early twilight with Jack walking slowly beside him. Grogu popped his head out of his harness and cooed at his keeper before turning his toothy smile toward you. You brought the hand holding Jack's reins so your fingers could stroke the top of his head, and you melted when the tiny green child snuggled himself against your chest for the remainder of the journey.
"For the record, I'm not sorry we got stuck with you," Din murmured, keeping his eyes directed forward.
Your eyes widened in surprise at the proclamation. "Really?" Honestly, out of the entire world, he's not sorry he fell on some random nurse's truck in the middle of nowhere, instead of the front stoop of the Kennedy Space Center?
"We could have gone anywhere. Actually, I did leave. Twice," he reminded you. "But you make a good cup of caf," he replied with a shrug. "And the cookies weren't bad."
The snort that escaped you made your Spaceman crack a smile.
Deciding that the Furby had the right idea, you let yourself relax in Din's arms.
And if you let yourself enjoy resting against Din's broad chest and take a moment to appreciate being carried by those ripped, muscular biceps you fantasized about earlier in the day… well… you had been shot today. After all, if this was some sort of cosmic joke on you, then why shouldn't you get to enjoy being carried around by a big, muscular Spaceman?
The sting of the Betadine swab burned, forcing a quiet hiss to escape your lips as you cleaned out the diagonal gash that was now embedded in the side of your right calf.
Just another scar to add to the collection.
With a heavy sigh at the thought, you returned to your wound. There wasn't time to dwell on the past. You were racing the clock, but with any luck, you'd be able to sneak downstairs to grab your emergency bag and would have yourself cleaned and patched up before Din made it back inside.
In a surprising turn of events, you discovered that your Spaceman might be a worse mother hen than Cassie.
Thank god Cassie and Rosie were out of town and missed the exciting, terrifying ordeal. At least you'd been able to order Din to deal with the robot, giving you some time alone to decompress and reflect on the strange day. Din was gullible enough to fall for your promise of staying put, whereas your other roommates knew better. If Cassie and Rosie had been here? Cassie would have sicced her daughter on you while she dealt with things, and there was absolutely no hiding from Rosie. Your niece probably would have sat on the counter while you showered, talking a mile a minute about whatever she was obsessed with at the time, and would have ratted you out to her mother for leaving the bed to shower on your own.
But they weren't here. You wouldn't be able to say that in a week, but that was a problem for then.
Once you released Din's makeshift tourniquet from your now-destroyed jeans and were relieved to find that your injury was no longer gushing, you decided to act fast. You needed a shower to wash the day away, and you didn't want to wait around to see just how much supervision your Spaceman had in mind for that task.
After the trek from the field to your front porch, there was a slight debate between you and Din about what to do with Jack, the robot (droid, he kept correcting you), as well as you. The debate between you two could have been on a half-hour comedy special. He simply held you in his arms at the bottom of the porch stairs as if it were effortless, unfazed by the extra weight as the two of you argued about the order in which things should be done.
Din thought he could leave Jack out front until you were completely bandaged and taken care of. Simple, right?
However, your Spaceman quickly learned that Jack had no concept of the word stay. In the time it took him to suggest that, Jack had already gotten bored and begun meandering towards the main road. The eighteen-hand-tall Percheron cross was already recognizable enough on its own. The last thing you needed was your neighbors catching him saddled up and riderless while carrying an evil space droid… which both you and Din wanted to avoid if possible. So, instead, Din's compromise was to have you tie Jack to the porch rail and then carry you up to your bedroom on the second floor.
After he laid you down on your bed, you gave him the best verbal step-by-step instructions and forced Din to watch a YouTube video on how to remove Jack's bridle and saddle before he left you with instructions to stay until he got back. You watched him grab Grogu as you began rambling, nervously trying to add any step you might have forgotten. Din nodded along before interrupting you with a simple, "Dorothy, I think I've got it," and took Grogu downstairs with him before leaving you alone.
You tried to stay in bed…
At least you tried to until you heard the storm shelter doors slam shut, indicating Din had the robot that shot you locked away underground. You hissed and braved getting up to limp down the hall and spy on him from the top of the stairs. Thankfully, Din left the main door open, giving you a straight shot through the screen door and the perfect view of your Spaceman tugging on Jack's reins.
Din was trying to get the stubborn draft horse to follow him back to the barn, but Jack stood there, staring at the strange man tugging at his reins without budging an inch. Din's baritone voice floated through the screen door and up the stairs. You couldn't make out exactly what he was saying, but when he tugged harder on the reins, you could make out the word "Jackass." You snorted at both Jack's and Din's stubbornness. Unfortunately, your snort drew Grogu's attention from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, as he was also trying to watch his keeper deal with your stubborn horse. When the toddler's black eyes turned to look up at you, you held up an index finger to your mouth to signal for him to stay quiet as you backed away from the stairs.
Seeing as how Din hadn't made much progress getting Jack back to the barn and still had to have Jack's gear removed, you figured you had time to at least start cleaning yourself up before Din returned to check on you.
Twenty minutes later, you were showered and changed into a comfy pair of shorts and an oversized shirt. Now, sitting on the edge of the upstairs bathtub with your hair wrapped up in a towel, you were almost finished cleaning your injury. At least phaser wounds, even grazes, had the benefit of somewhat cauterizing the bleeding. Between that and Din's tourniquet, you were able to take a full shower without disturbing the wound too much.
The screen door slammed closed downstairs, and you could hear Din's muffled baritone voice say something to Grogu seconds before you heard his boots stomping up the stairs. You carried on cleaning the last of the debris from your wound as you heard him walk past Rosie's room and then the bathroom, heading to the end of the hall where your rooms were.
The audible sigh he let out when he discovered you weren't where he'd left you brought a smile to your face.
Busted.
"Dorothy?" he called as you heard his boots approach the bathroom.
"In here," you called, your smile replaced by a cringe as you dug a chunk of charred flesh and a tiny pebble out of the last piece.
"I thought I told you to stay put?" he asked from the other side of the closed door.
"You did," you confirmed, smirking as he let out another irritated sigh. "You can come in. I'm decent." The knob turned, and the door cracked open slightly, as if to confirm you were clothed, before he opened it the rest of the way. "Did Jack behave himself?"
Din eyed the towel wrapped around your head before he shrugged. "More or less," came his grumbled answer. "He at least let me put that cream you gave me on his wound before I turned him out. For whatever good that will do," he added with a roll of his eyes.
"What do you mean by that?" you asked, not sure why Din still seemed displeased by his success. "You got his gear off him and got the antibiotic ointment on his wound. As far as Jack is concerned, I'd say that counts as an unmitigated success."
Din's eyes locked on yours before saying, "Just not sure how effective the cream will be because the second I let him out into the pasture with the others, he found a muddy puddle and rolled around in it." Typical, you thought with an eye roll. "Then he found a ball in the mud and took off when it scared him."
You snorted at that and went back to tending your own wound. "Rosie probably left one of her soccer balls outside. But now you know the two things that spook Jack. Soccer balls and crushed robots from outer space," you teased without looking up from the task at hand. "I might need your help getting down the stairs here in a sec. I need to get to my bag."
"I can grab it," Din offered, already turning to leave, ignoring your motion for him to stop.
"I can do it!" you argued, but it was too late. Din was out the bathroom door, and his boots could be heard thundering down the stairs before you could take a breath.
And Din called you bossy.
Moments later, you could hear the closet in the hallway close before you heard him climbing back up the stairs.
"Here," he offered, handing you the small black duffel bag you tried to keep stocked with some essentials for minor injuries. After the last couple of days, it was going to need a serious restocking.
"Thanks," you breathed out, accepting the bag from him. You placed it on the closed toilet seat beside you and began rifling through the contents to see what options were left.
The laceration was probably deep enough to need sutures, but it looked like there were just enough butterfly sutures left that you could hopefully get by with a bandage and taking it easy for a few days. You weren't sure how you were going to explain a blaster wound to your colleagues if you went in to work to have them patch you up.
"Can I help?"
You pulled your eyes from your kit to see Din shifting nervously just inside the small, yellow bathroom. His eyes flicked between yours and the laceration across your calf, which was beginning to ooze. "I've got it," you assured him with a quick smile, but it only seemed to deepen the guilt in his eyes. "But if you want to and don't need to check on Grogu -"
As if on cue, Grogu sputtered, "Patu!" as he rounded the corner to the bathroom.
"Whoa! Did you climb up all those stairs by yourself?" you asked him with an impressed nod. "Those steps are almost as tall as you, buddy. There's no stoppin' ya now."
Grogu grunted and toddled around Din to reach your perch on the bathtub.
"He's been working on it since I got back inside," Din told you, a proud smile on his face at his ward. Once Grogu reached your side, Din turned his expectant gaze to you.
"Alright," you caved and bent your knee to make room for Din to sit on the tub's edge. "Wash your hands," you instructed the other human in the room while you dug through your bag and pulled out the butterfly sutures and bandaging material.
A tiny three-fingered hand popped into your vision, and when you peered over your bag, you found the green toddler standing beside the tub with his hand outstretched toward the wound on your leg. His eyes were closed in concentration, as if he were trying to reach his stubby, short arm to grab you. You watched, curiously, as he kept cracking his eyes open, looking like he was checking on your leg, but after the third time, he gave up with a grunt and dropped to his bottom.
"I'm gonna be fine, buddy," you told Grogu, reaching down to rub the top of his head. "I just got a scratch like you did. Now I'm gonna have some stickers that match yours and Din's." Grogu's only response was to shrink into himself as if he were disappointed, and you gave him a soft smile to show him you weren't hurting.
"The kid's special," Din's baritone voice rumbled quietly in the small bathroom as he straddled the tub across from you. "That's why Gideon and the Imps were after us."
"Hands," you ordered, then squirted antiseptic cleaner onto his hands before doing the same with yours. "Other than being the most adorable alien I've ever seen, what makes him special?" you asked, working the hand sanitizer over your hands, mentally adding more gloves that would fit Din as well as you to your list of supplies to grab when you returned to work on Monday.
If the last two days were any indication of the future, you'd definitely need to be more prepared.
"Isn't he the only alien you've ever seen?" Din asked with a quirked brow as he copied your motions, taking his time to massage the sanitizer thoroughly into his massive hands and fingers, almost hypnotizing you with his motions. But when you stuck your tongue out at him, he let out a heavy breath and let his gaze fall to the Furby sitting on the floor beside the tub. "Grogu has… powers."
You blinked as you processed what Din had said, held up a finger for him to wait, and quickly snatched your phone off the counter and hit record to add a new entry to your Spaceman's oral library, which you'd begun during your overnight talks. "Powers?" you repeated, looking between Din and the green alien in question, who was no longer pouting on the ground but rummaging through your emergency kit.
Din quirked an eyebrow at your phone as you placed it on the tub under your bent knee, hoping to record everything. Apparently deciding that he was fine being recorded, he took a short breath to steady himself. "The kid has magic powers," he explained with a deep breath, nodding when your eyebrows lifted. "I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't witnessed it with my own eyes. The things I've seen him do… He can lift objects with his mind. I've seen him create a shield of air to protect us from flames. I've seen him heal people." Din paused to smile at the kid who was now holding your stethoscope by the bell and shaking it.
"Here," you whispered to him, passing him the last of your butterfly sutures. "I'm gonna push the edges together, and I want you to place them in even intervals like this." You paused to demonstrate with the first one. At Din's nod, you winced and pointed for him to place the next one. "Are Grogu's powers unique to his species?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Where I'm from, there are apparently others with similar abilities. They called themselves Jedis. From what little I've seen, there are several species that can wield magic powers. They claim to use something called the Force."
"You mentioned the Jedis when we were talking last night," you murmured, wincing as Din placed another butterfly down. Three down, two to go. "You were looking for them on Tython."
Din nodded. He didn't speak right away, eyes concentrating on the task at hand. You were content to let him tell their story in his own time. But when Din placed the last butterfly, you caught his eye shift to the scars that marred your knee and leg, you figured it was no longer his story he was focused on. Your Spaceman frowned as he suddenly realized the extent of your prior injuries. One long scar that ran down the middle of your leg from almost mid-thigh to about three or four inches past your knee. Two more scars streaked down either side of your right leg, with the one along the outside coming in as your longest one by far, almost spanning the length of your leg.
Goosebumps erupted across your entire body when Din's hands gently wrapped around your leg and his calloused finger traced the longest scar for a couple of inches, stopping when your newest wound intersected it. With your calf being tenderly cradled in Din's massive palm, you were torn between embarrassment and relief that you had made the last-minute decision to shave your legs.
But if Din was going to share his story, you supposed it was only fair to share part of yours.
"Car accident."
At your softly spoken words, Din released your leg from his hands, apparently suddenly realizing the intimate position he'd inadvertently found himself in.
"We got T-boned coming home one night, and I got my leg crushed against the passenger door. I was out of it for a bit. When I woke up, Cass told me that I almost lost it entirely, but the doctors managed to save it. Unfortunately, they didn't save my soccer career," you tried to joke, but Din's concerned brown eyes remained locked on yours. All you could do was give him a tight smile and a shrug. "I probably would have died, but a nurse was driving behind us who saw the whole thing happen. She came to visit me in the hospital later and told me that the night of the accident, she'd been upset that she was late leaving her shift, but if she hadn't been…" You faded off as snippets of that night's memories seeped through your defenses.
Your eyes fluttered closed for the briefest moment as you allowed yourself to remember that terrifying night. There wasn't much you could remember, just your piercing scream along with bright, flashing lights through the parts of the car you could see. When you managed to shake them away, you opened your eyes and gave Din a tight smile.
"She is actually my charge nurse now. Never thought I would end up in healthcare, but after everything that happened… It was the first thing that really sparked any interest after the accident."
"I'm glad she was behind you then," Din murmured.
The numbness that had encapsulated your heart when you remembered or spoke about that night held strong, but you knew that he might feel differently if he ever learned the full story. And, having known him for only two days at this point, that thought chipped away at the shield protecting your heart.
You gave another tight smile. "It might not be as cool as Grogu's magic tricks," you began, ready to change the topic with a forced smile at the green toddler on the floor. "But my magic trick is that I have enough metal plates, pins, and screws in my leg that I set off metal detectors now," you announced, smiling when Din chuffed and shook his head at your attempt at a joke. "How did you end up with Grogu?"
The smile fell from Din's face at your question, and his eyes dropped to Grogu, removing the earpiece from your stethoscope from his mouth before looking back at you. Your curiosity was piqued when you realized that the man looked almost guilty.
Taking a deep breath, Din began. "Remember how I told you that I'm a bounty hunter?" It was your turn to furrow your brow at his question, but you nodded, unsure where he was going with this. "The Guild that I was a member of wasn't getting jobs that paid anything acceptable. So, the Guild leader mentioned a job that was under the table but paid well. They didn't give me any information to go on except a fob and the last few digits of the target's chain code. So all I knew was that the target was fifty." He paused again, nervously fiddling with the paper backing from one of the butterfly sutures.
But once he finally began telling their story, you were mesmerized.
You listened to his smooth, baritone voice as he spoke, the small bathroom only adding to the acoustics as his tale unfolded. You listened to him, discovering that Grogu was the target and the journey they went on to get off Arvala-7. Din must have sensed your indignation when he finally revealed that he had turned the child over to people who were planning on experimenting on him, and he held up his hands to stop your impending reprimand the second your mouth opened. At that point, you leaned over to pick Grogu up to hold him in your lap while Din continued to spin his tale.
With Grogu snuggled against you, you were hooked on every word of the man's story. The more Din spoke, the more relaxed he became. He walked you through every adventure they shared and even touched on some of the softer memories of just the two of them bonding aboard their ship. But there was something beyond his words, something beyond their story that spoke to something deeper. Din didn't need to say it. The truth was obvious in every word and every look he gave Grogu.
Din had fallen in love with the small green child in your lap.
"The Jedi told us about the magic rock on Tython, so we went there to see if the kid could contact a Jedi," Din said, reaching out to stroke one of the green toddler's ears as his story brought you to the present.
"Cue the black death robots of doom, a tornado, and now here you are," you murmured, giving Grogu a quick squeeze.
Din cracked a half-smile, revealing that adorable dimple of his, making you smile back at him. "Here we are," he nodded before resting his head against the yellow-tiled wall.
The recording on your phone told you he'd been speaking for forty-two minutes, but it didn't feel like that. Even with both of you straddling the tub's wall, with Din's legs stretched out, and your right leg propped up in front of you, it shouldn't have been comfortable, but you could have listened to him talk for another forty-two minutes just like this.
"I call bullshit on one thing." Din crossed his arms over his chest in a challenge to your declaration, but you tossed him a quick wink before picking Grogu up under his armpits to study the overly large ears and eyes. "There's no way you're fifty."
"He's not human," Din reminded you with a smile. "The Jedi we found said that she'd met another of his species who was hundreds of years old."
Part of you still thought you were crazy for believing Din and his almost implausible stories, but then Grogu smiled at you, and you believed him all over again.
Grogu squirmed in your arms, and your smile turned sad as you tucked him back against your chest. "Kinda sad though," you murmured, your index finger tracing a wrinkle on his forehead. "To think that he is still gonna be a kid when you're…" You faded off, not wanting even to voice it. "Sorry."
Din's arms relaxed, and his hands came to rest on his knees. "It's why I've been trying to track down a Jedi. Someone who can train him better than I could." The man's brown eyes went soft as he watched Grogu give him a slow, sleepy blink from your arms. "Dorothy?" he asked, eyes sliding from his to yours. "I am concerned that there is something wrong with the kid." Your body went instantly alert at that, and you dropped your head to assess the green alien toddler in your arms. "Health-wise, he seems fine, not acting sick or off like me, but he hasn't been able to use his powers since we arrived."
Grogu's sad coo almost seemed to confirm his keeper's suspicions.
"He tried to heal the cut on my head after we took off the first time," Din explained. "I thought he was just tired. He's tried to move things around a few times since we've been here, and I'm pretty sure he was trying to heal your leg earlier."
"I appreciate the offer, buddy," you told Grogu with a quick peck to the top of his head, "but I'm gonna be just fine. Although it would have been nice to see a demonstration. Extra proof that I'm not crazy," you teased as you passed Grogu back to his Spaceman.
The green toddler sputtered something and reached for Din's face as you grabbed the bandaging supplies you'd set aside.
"Do you think his powers will come back?" Din questioned, keeping his eyes on the child in his arms as he bounced him in his lap. "Like your guess about my symptoms eventually getting better? Maybe this is how Earth affects him?"
With a shrug, you replied, "Your guess is as good as mine. If there was a lecture in nursing school over alien anatomy, I must have missed that day," you joked as you wrapped your leg with the white roll of gauze you had left in your bag.
Din let out a deep breath but seemed to accept the circumstances for the time being. You kept sneaking glances at your two alien guests as you bandaged your calf with gauze, then a leftover ace bandage for extra durability. Din's face was still weary, and you hoped the man would get some rest this evening, but it was heartwarming watching him interact with Grogu. The kid obviously adored the man, and the feeling was clearly mutual.
"If we ever find my helmet, I can show you some videos of the kid using his powers and some other pictures of some of the places we've visited," Din offered, tucking Grogu against his chest.
"You have pictures and videos on your helmet?"
He nodded. "The display inside," he explained as if that made any sense to you.
So, the helmet was more than just his religion. It also contained memories of his time with Grogu, and only Din knew what else was stored there. If you suddenly lost all of your pictures of Cassie and Rosie, you'd be gutted. "We'll find it," you promised. "If you were wearing it when you landed, it has to be closer to the house."
"I hope so," he murmured. "I'll be glad when we find it," he breathed out.
Your eyes narrowed at his words, noting that neither his face nor his tone seemed optimistic. "Why do I feel like there is a but in there?"
A little huff escaped his nose. "But," he began with a smirk, "that is just the beginning. There is still a lot to figure out."
"One step at a time," you tried to assure him. "Maybe it is kinda fortuitous that you ended up here." When Din's eyes turned skeptical, you shrugged. "You get some more time with him," came your quiet explanation. "Assuming no more robots followed you through whatever portal sucked you in and dropped you on my truck, Death Troopers don't exist here. Aside from the one that is in pieces in my storm shelter." And after the up-close-and-personal demonstration you received this evening, you hoped that was the only one that followed Din and Grogu here. "Your Empire doesn't exist here… Not saying that I don't want you guys to get back home, but… Maybe the universe decided you needed a break."
"A break?" Din questioned with a quirk of his brow.
You shrugged again, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the suggestion. "A vacation of sorts. Think of it as some more time together. No Jedis, no Empire, no rock 'em, sock 'em robots hunting you down." You smiled at Din's snort of amusement. "Just a chance for the two of you to be normal-ish," you added, stretching your arm to give a quick boop to Grogu's nose. "We'll have to get creative keeping this one hidden, but you'll get to experience the world as a regular ole human," you smiled, wagging your eyebrows at his pink-tinged cheeks. "And more importantly, you get some more time with this adorable little guy while we figure out how to get you back to where you belong."
There was a mix of emotions washing over his face, passing too quickly to pinpoint one before the next one emerged. You could sense that a part of him wanted what you were offering: A chance to live, an opportunity to experience this life without the fears and concerns of being hunted down. However, you knew this wasn't where they were meant to be. As insane as it still sounded, even to you, there was something in the man's eyes that told you they belonged out there, amongst the stars. Part of you wondered if it had just been Din who landed on your truck, if he would even go back at all. For someone who wasn't even forty yet, he looked exhausted. A kind of exhaustion that went beyond missing a couple of days of sleep. After listening to him talk about the last year he had just spent with Grogu, you couldn't blame him.
"I appreciate your hospitality, Dorothy, but we -"
"Don't belong here," you finished for him, sharing an understanding smile with the man. "I know."
"I don't want to give up trying to find a way back."
"Didn't say you should."
Din's eyes fell on Grogu, and you couldn't help but smile as you watched the much larger, imposing man be so gentle and caring with the tiny alien in his hands. "I don't mind helping you with your farm until we figure out how we got here and how we get back. It is the least I can do after everything you've done for us," he said quietly.
"But," you prodded, sharing a sad smile with the man.
"But," he sighed, "I've seen too many people lose themselves to the routine of normalcy and end up forgetting the mission." Something in his words made your chest constrict, and you wondered if this man had ever allowed himself a day of leniency in his life. "I can't do that. I made a vow when I took Grogu in as my Foundling. If he's not safe here, or this place is hurting him somehow, I can't give up on finding a way to get back."
You stretched your right leg and shifted so that it rested on the other side of the tub. "I respect that," you whispered, and leaned forward to rest a comforting hand on Din's knee, not commenting when you felt the man's muscular thigh practically leap under your palm at your touch. "But I'm gonna tell you something that my therapist told me when I was lost after my accident. Din, the best way you can help Grogu and yourself get back is by taking care of yourself." Brown eyes slid from his knee to lock with yours. "You're not going to do either of you any good if you keep running on empty. Did you listen to yourself when you told me about everything you've gone through trying to get Grogu to his Jedi?" Din frowned, but didn't try to argue with you. "You went through all of that, and that was before you got dumped on my pickup by a tornado." Grogu picked that moment to coo as if agreeing with you, making you smile. "Let's focus on the important things. Grogu might not be able to use his powers right now, or maybe he can't use them here at all, but he seems otherwise healthy. After a little rest, I think you will be too. Let's prioritize finding your helmet this weekend before I have to go back to work on Monday, and unless another wormhole or something magically appears, let's save figuring out how to get you back for after both of you get a chance to rest and recover."
"Not forever," he murmured, flicking his brown eyes from your hand on his knee to your face.
"Just until we find your helmet and figure out how to get you back to your spaceship," you said with a small, affirming smile.
Din let out a deep breath, and you watched as some of his own resolve crumbled. "And what do regular ole humans do on Earth?" he asked with a slightly amused smirk.
Before you could answer his question, Din's stomach let out a loud growl.
Grinning, you said, "We eat pizza rolls."
"Would you just stay put?" Din grumbled loudly enough for you to hear him as he pulled the pizza rolls from the oven and set the hot baking sheet on the stove to cool.
You smirked at your Spaceman from the hall, unable to hide the smile at the sight of him in his new pajamas you'd purchased for him earlier that day. The loungewear and bare feet were a stark contrast to the tactical pants and boots, and leagues more casual than his coat of arms. However, it wasn't just the casual, relaxed clothes; it was also the hot pink oven mitts adorning his hands that brought you immense joy.
"I heard the oven ding, and I thought I'd come help," you tried, grin exploding into quiet giggles as Din turned his glare on you as he shucked the pink mitts from his hands and tossed them onto the countertop.
"You can help by staying off your leg," Din chided before he crossed the kitchen to stop you from coming further.
"But you don't know where the plates and stuff are. Besides, you're my guest."
"I can figure it out. And I'm not your guest, I'm your employee now. I'm supposed to be paying off my debt."
Before you could argue with his logic, your Spaceman had you airborne. A quiet oof escaped your lips as you rolled your eyes. "You know, I am capable of walking," you reminded your Spaceman.
While Din had tentatively agreed to take the rest of the weekend to recharge, he apparently hadn't agreed to stop being your own personal chauffeur. Not that you were complaining about the way he cradled you in his arms as he carried you back home and up the stairs earlier, because you weren't. In fact, the whole experience felt like something straight from a book. It was decisively swoon-worthy.
However, when it was time to head downstairs, being hoisted over his left shoulder with your ass up in the air while he carried you down the stairs as if you were a sack of potatoes was decidedly less romantic. Not twenty minutes later, here you were again, folded over his shoulder and being hauled back to the couch.
"Your stickers won't hold that wound together if you keep putting weight on it," Din reminded you as he took the last few steps to the sofa.
You rolled your eyes, but couldn't complain too much when your view was his backside, complete in his new clothes: a clean white shirt and blue flannel pajama bottoms you purchased for him earlier in the day. Now that he was freshly showered and in clean clothes, he walked out of his bedroom looking almost like a new person. The underlying exhaustion was still there (along with the scruff along his jaw), but between your talk and a shower, Din almost looked as if, instead of missing out on a year's worth of sleep, he'd only missed a handful of hours.
A giggle, followed by a raspberry, made you lift your head to find Grogu a couple of steps behind you, pointing and laughing at the way his guardian was carrying you. The kid (you were even picking up Din's moniker for the alien now) refused to let either of you carry him down the stairs after he figured out he could do it on his own. It reminded you so much of Rosie when she was finally allowed to do that on her own (not that it stopped you and Cassie from padding the rails and floor with blankets when you could).
In response to Grogu's raspberry, you gave him one of your own as your Spaceman deposited you on the couch.
"Don't encourage him," Din chided, but you could hear the underlying bemusement in his voice. "But he likes you. You're good with him."
"How can you not be? And he reminds me a lot of Rosie. He's at a fun age. Just wait until he starts talking or turns into a teenager," you teased.
"Don't remind me," he grumbled. "And you," Din began as he whirled to face Grogu, still toddling along behind to catch up. "You were supposed to be watching Dorothy, you womp rat."
Judging by the string of grunts, squawks, and raspberries thrown back at Din, Grogu needed no help defending himself.
"On second thought, it seems like he's already got the backtalking down," you teased, sharing a toothy smile with the ornery toddler. "And I don't think he appreciated being compared to whatever the hell a womp rat is," you added, giving the man a pointed look as he rolled his eyes and shook his head before he stalked back to the kitchen. "Is he always this grumpy?" you asked the squat child shuffling towards you on the couch.
"Bah!"
"I'll take that as a yes," came your flat response. "Plates are in the upper cabinet to the right of the sink," you called across the house after hearing Din start opening the cabinets. "Oh! Grab some of the little saucer bowls in there, too, and grab the Ranch from the fridge!"
"What's Ranch?" Din asked from the kitchen once he found the plates.
If you weren't sold on the fact that he was an alien before, that question all but settled the debate for you.
"They don't have Ranch in space?" you asked, appalled by the thought. "I can't wait to introduce you to one of the best dipping sauces ever. You'll want to take a bottle back with you," you warned. "It's in the door of the fridge, and it is in a bottle with a blue and green label."
Grogu grunted and smacked the couch to get your attention, and you found his arms stretching for you while the tiny goblin opened and closed his hands, otherwise known as the universal actions of a child wanting to be picked up.
"While he is doing that, what do you say the two of us pick out a movie?" you asked the toddler as you lifted him to cradle him against your chest while you cautiously attempted to stand. Once on your feet, you shared a smile with Grogu and held your index finger to your lips, only to be extremely tickled when the child in your arms mimicked the gesture with a clawed finger.
As quietly as possible, you limped and shuffled to the old bookcase that held most of your DVD collection. You risked only one glance toward the kitchen, pleased to find Din's back to you as he searched the fridge, and quickly limped the rest of the way to your destination.
"I know we had a copy of it here somewhere," you muttered to yourself as you scanned the old plastic cartridges, looking for the particular film in question.
"Dorothy!" Din's stern reprimand echoed around the living room, his low, baritone voice resonating deep in your chest.
"Geesh!" came your startled response. You shot the overly worried Spaceman a glare. "I'm gonna start making you wear a bell," you grumbled before returning to find the movie in question - Ah! The Wizard of Oz. "It was a graze -"
"A graze that will reopen if you don't. Stay. Off. Of. It," he argued, taking his time to enunciate each word as he placed each plate down on the coffee table.
"I'm being careful. I am a nurse, remember? If I mess it up, I can fix it." You shot Din an annoyed look, but his unimpressed, brown eyes were already glaring back at you. "I was picking out our dinner entertainment," you explained, holding up the DVD box for Din to see, but his only response was a slight twitch of his right eyebrow. "This is a classic. And then you'll understand where your little pet name for me came from."
Din's only response was to roll his eyes as he let himself drop to the sofa. With your watchdog otherwise occupied, you popped the disc into the player, snagged the remote, and tenderly crept back to join Din on the sofa. Dark brown eyes tracked every step, and by the time you finally reached your destination, you cringed as your wound protested.
"Here," Din sighed, reaching down to grab your feet, careful not to put any pressure on the bandage wrapped around your right calf.
"What are you doing?" you asked as he gently lifted your feet until your legs were resting over his thighs. When you attempted to draw your legs back, he rested a hand over your right ankle, stopping you.
"Would you just let me help you?" he asked, and while his hand lingered on your lower leg, it wasn't more than a comforting weight, giving you enough of an out if you really wanted one. "I'm just taking the weight off your leg," came his tired response. With your legs stretched across the man's lap, you were now facing him on the couch, which made it all the better to fix him with your annoyed glare. "It's either this or I carry you to the chair with the leg rest," he countered, nodding at the old recliner in the corner, still piled with your blankets and overnight supplies from last night.
What you wanted to do was take your legs back and scold the man for not thinking you could take care of yourself, but instead, you asked, "Why?"
Din seemed genuinely surprised by the question. "Why, what?"
An exhausted breath left your chest as you relaxed back against the armrest, giving you an extra second to study the man sitting beside you. "What's with all the coddling? It's just a graze. It's not like my entire body is bruised from head to toe. I'm capable of caring for myself."
"I never said you couldn't," Din defended, still looking confused. "I thought I was following your rule."
Now it was your turn to be confused. "Following my rule? Pretty sure I never made any rules about men from outer space carrying me around wherever I go," you said with a light huff of a laugh at the end.
"No," he sighed, shaking his head in frustration. "I thought this was your, uh, Golden Rule, or whatever you called it." At his answer, all of your irritation dropped from your face as you melted slightly when he gave an embarrassed shrug. "Even if your planet didn't have a Golden Rule, I have my own code of conduct. You helped us, took us in, and tended to our injuries. Now it's our turn to do it for you."
Even Grogu chimed in with a quiet coo of agreement from your lap.
In an attempt to hide the flush creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks, you ducked your head to stroke the kid's forehead as you settled into your new position.
After all, it was comfortable, and your leg already felt better propped up.
"Now, these are called pizza rolls," you explained to the tiny green alien in your lap as you still tried to avoid making eye contact with the brown-eyed person watching you. Grogu's ears perked up, and the kid was practically drooling as you brought his plate closer. When his tiny hands reached for one, you gently raised a hand to stop him. "Careful, buddy, they're really hot when they're right outta the oven. Take a little bite from the corner," you continued, plucking one of the golden brown squares from his plate to demonstrate. Grogu's eyes went wide at the steam coming from within the crust. "But you don't want to wait till they get cold, cause then they're not as good, but if you dip them in a little bit of Ranch, it's perfect."
Grogu grabbed one of the bite-sized pieces from the plate and followed your directions perfectly. The toddler watched with awe as the steam and cheese goodness inside, and gave it a healthy dip in the creamy sauce. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Din following your instructions as well, though the tiny pizza roll seemed almost comically small in his massive hands.
Your guests let out simultaneous sounds of pleasure at their first bite of Ranch-coated junk food. Grogu's came out more of an excited squeak, while Din's was a stunted moan. At the sound of his cut-off moan, you risked a glance up and found him nodding his head.
"I think we'll be okay being regular ole humans if the food here is this good," Din said without prompting.
Grogu nodded eagerly, already fisting a toasted pizza roll in each hand, ready for more.
With your smile in place, you grabbed your plate and the remote from the coffee table and pressed play.
If you thought Grogu's eyes went wide at the taste of pizza rolls, his oversized eyes almost bulged out of his tiny head when the TV flared to life with the movie. It was more fun watching your guests watch the movie than watching the movie yourself.
When Dorothy opened the farmhouse door after being deposited in Oz by a tornado, and the screen changed from black-and-white to full color, Din asked, "So, what happened to us is a common phenomenon with tornadoes?"
You couldn't stop the amused snort that escaped, and you started gathering your and Grogu's empty plates to distract yourself. "Only in the movies, Tin Man," you finally replied, giving Din a soft smile.
Din shook his head as he gently lifted your legs from his lap, then picked up the dishes and set them in the sink.
"Turn the lights off on your way back," you called from the couch.
Not that you were content to stay there, but Grogu was too focused on the movie, and you didn't want to disturb him.
It had nothing to do with your Spaceman's words, "Even if your planet didn't have a Golden Rule, I have my own code of conduct. You helped us, took us in, and tended to our injuries. Now it's our turn to do it for you," forcing that swooning feeling to emerge again.
The clicking of the light switches followed Din as he systematically turned off the lights on the way back to join you on the couch.
"Leave the main door open," you called as he started down the hall to close it. "The weather is still nice. We can leave the screen door open so it doesn't get stuffy." At Din's skeptical look, you nodded. "No one comes out this way. Besides, I'm sure you've already hidden some of your weapons around the house when I left you unsupervised while I was showering this morning."
What was meant to be a light-hearted jab at the man's obsession with his weapons turned into a flat glower when Din shrugged in easy acceptance.
"Tell me you didn't hide weapons in my house," you sighed.
Din avoided looking at you as he made himself comfortable on the couch, your legs on his lap again.
"Din…" you prodded, but the only answer you got was a slight quirk of his lip, and you let out an annoyed sigh before returning your attention to the movie.
The three of you watched the movie unfold in silence until, one by one, you each started to drop off. Grogu went first, his small body curled against your abdomen, his soft snores audible in the film's quieter moments. You shivered as a cold breeze drifted through the screen door right as Din got his first glimpse of the Tin Man. His head rolled to glare at you when he caught the reference, but you just smirked at him. Neither of you said anything, but when Din reached for your Lion King blanket from the pile on the recliner, you laughed as the man chucked it at your head.
You shook out the fleece blanket, with a content smile on your face as you spread it across the couch, covering you and your guests. And if Din made no move to pull his hand away from your right ankle once your legs were covered, well, there was no point in drawing any attention to it. Especially when you realized he had finally drifted to sleep with his head lolled back against the couch.
Thankfully, you were too exhausted to overanalyze the strange turn of events because it was still bizarre. However, if Din was willing to pretend to be a regular ole human for the time being, then you could pretend that this was a perfectly normal night.
The three of you were all out before Dorothy, Toto, and their new trio made it to the Emerald Palace.
🌪️ A/N: Y'all, I'm truly blown away by y'all's response to this story. I'm so glad y'all are enjoying it. Hoping to update the next chapter in another 2-3 weeks. I'm really excited for the next couple of chapters. We go back to Din's POV in the next chapter, and then we *finally* get to meet a couple of characters before too long! 🧡
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
🧡 Tag List: @racheldon @leeroyjagginz @djarins-cyare @higgsvoidout @abandonedreaper @brunlocc @foreignbrunette
Please drop a comment or send me a message if you'd like to be added to the tag list 🧡
Country Roads Masterlist
Next chapter in series - Chapter 9: Lost and Found
A massive thank you to everyone who reblogs fics! I wouldn't have found half of my favorites if not for someone's reblog showing up on my feed. Keep that shit up! ❤️❤️❤️
Country Roads - Chapter 7: Spacemen, Mechanics, and Robots (oh my)
🧡Country Roads Masterlist🧡
Previous Chapter
🌪️ Chapter Summary: April 4th, twenty twenty-something: the day you thought would be remembered for your trip to Walmart, only for that event to get dethroned by something worse. Otherwise known henceforth as the day you finally believed your guests were from outer space.
🌪️ Pairings: Fem!Earthling!Reader x Din Djarin
🌪️ Word Count: 9.8k
🧡 Author's Note: HAPPY MANDALORIAN AND GROGU RELEASE WEEKEND! 🥳 It was so nice seeing our man and Grogu back on the screen again.
Now that a few of you have guessed it, Star Wars does NOT exist in "Dorothy's" universe. *Gasp* 😱 As fun as it would be to have Din see himself on TV (as Mando 😉) or as an action figure, that didn't fit with the ✨plot✨ So, take that information and use it as you see fit, as we continue 🧡 April 4th has been a bit of a doozy for both Din and Dorothy, and it ain't over yet 😈
🎵Chapter Soundtrack🎵 "UFO" - UFOs, Braxe + Falcon, Alan Braxe, Phoenix
AO3 Link to Ch 7
Chapter 7: Spacemen, Mechanics, and Robots (oh my)
April fourth, twenty twenty-something
"Follow the light." Dark brown eyes followed your pen light through the motions: Up, down, left, right, diagonally, tracking it perfectly. You clicked the light off and studied his eyes, nodding as his pupils both responded equally, each returning to the same size in sync. "Where does your head hurt?" you asked, exchanging your pen light for your stethoscope. When Din just motioned around his head, you smiled. "So, everywhere? Or does it hurt worse in a specific area?"
"Kind of everywhere," he mumbled.
You nodded along. "How would you describe the pain? Throbbing, or dull and achy, or like someone is stabbing you with an ice pick?"
"Um, it's better now that we're not inside the store, but more like a dull throbbing?"
"Okay, does anything else hurt? Neck, back, abdomen -"
"No, just my head," he cut you off with a shake of his head.
"Nothing else hurts?" you prodded with a disbelieving glare. When he shook his head again, you said, "Take your shirt off."
Brown eyes blinked nervously back at you, but you just nodded at his chest and patiently waited for him. You wanted to tell him that it wasn't anything you hadn't already seen, but considering that you were one of the first people in, how long did he say? Thirty-something years? To have ever seen his face, you assumed that went for the rest of his body, too. However, he seemed to realize that you weren't backing down. Din gripped the hem of the black shirt and peeled it off his chest, grumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'bossy Earth woman' under his breath as he pulled it over his head.
Your patient glared at you while you gawked at him, and not in the drooling, you have a sexy Spaceman weirdo on your couch way (no, you would be doing that later), but in the how are you standing and walking around kind of way.
His entire torso was covered in spreading, molted bruises, painting his sun-kissed skin in various shades of blue, purple, and black. You shuddered at the thought of how he would have looked without the armor and extra padding strapped to him.
"Nothing else hurts?" you snarked, lifting a skeptical eyebrow at him. When he continued to glare, you reached forward and gently poked one of the darker bruises along his left side near the end of his ribs, earning you a hiss from the man.
"Well, it hurts when you jab it," he snapped, turning frustrated mahogany eyes at you.
With a roll of your eyes, you countered, "That was a poke, not a jab. Now," You paused to place the ear pieces of your stethoscope into your ears before instructing him to "take a deep breath in." Despite his frustration with your examination etiquette, he obliged, his chest expanding as he took a full breath. "And out." You repeated this several times, taking care to listen to all of your quadrants, then sat beside him on the couch and had him repeat it. "It doesn't hurt to breathe?" you asked, looping your stethoscope around your neck, watching him grimace as he turned to face you again.
"No, just sore," he reluctantly admitted, motioning around his torso, riddled with bruises.
"Well," you began hesitantly, offering him his shirt again. "I would feel better if I got you checked out by a doctor, and maybe even got some scans to make sure you don't have a concussion, broken ribs, or something else -"
"I'm fine," he sighed as he slid his shirt back on, hiding the bruises from your view once more. "I trust you -"
"You've known me for like two days," you challenged. "What if I'm a shit nurse?" At your smirk, Din rolled his eyes. "Honestly, other than your soreness, which I'm pretty sure we can attribute to the whole being dropped onto my truck by a tornado… I can't find anything wrong with you except for some mild dehydration."
Din let himself collapse back into the couch as his gaze shifted to Grogu, who was playing on the other side of the coffee table from you. The squat green creature had been entertaining himself with Rosie's old wooden block set, which you dug out of storage, to keep him occupied while you performed your examination on his keeper.
You kept your eyes focused on your Spaceman, looking for any clues you might have missed, but found none. So, you packed up your emergency bag and stored it away in the hallway closet, hoping it wouldn't be needed for a while.
Exhaustion called to you for a nap; your unintentional late night was starting to rear its ugly head. With a quick check of the time, you sighed, realizing that Rick would be here any minute. Also, there was no way you were going to take a nap when your Spaceman was approaching thirty-six hours without sleep.
As you entered the kitchen, you seriously contemplated the ethical ramifications of crushing up a Xanax or an Ambien and hiding it in a cup of tea or something for Din… But with your luck, your Spaceman would end up being one of those people who sleepwalked for hours on end, and you'd be stuck herding him around in his sleep. Staring into the kitchen cabinet that held an assortment of medications, you opted not to commit any crimes and keep your nursing license unblemished. For now. But the second that Din hit the forty-eight-hour mark without sleep, you would revisit the idea. Giving up the idea of drugging your guest, you reached for the Ibuprofen, then snagged a couple of water bottles from the fridge and the pink sippy cup drying on the rack by the sink before returning to your guests.
"Here," you offered, holding the water bottle out for him to take and then handing him the pain pills. "Ibuprofen," you explained at his quizzical glance. "Nothing hardcore, but might help with your headache and general soreness."
Din stared at the small, round, orange-brown pills for a second before plucking them from your palm without hesitation, and downed the pills and a third of the water bottle in one go. You smirked at the thought that yesterday morning, he was pointing his phaser at you, and barely thirty-six hours later, he's taking meds from you, no questions asked.
"Here you go, buddy," you said to Grogu as you poured half of the second bottle into the sippy cup and set it on the coffee table for him.
With the recliner still full of your blankets, there was nowhere else to sit, so you settled in beside Din on the couch until Rick arrived.
"This may sound stupid…" you began, but petered off with a long, drawn-out breath before you could continue. "But… hypothetically speaking, of course, I have to wonder if you have, for lack of a better term, altitude sickness, or whatever the new planet equivalent is to that." At your shot in the dark, Din's head rolled to stare at you. "I mean, I know you have been in space, and who knows what kind of training you had to do to tolerate that, but, panic attacks aside, you have similar symptoms to people with mild mountain sickness. If Earth isn't on any of your maps, what if we're so far away from where you're from that our solar system is just… different? Like our gravity is denser, or the atmosphere is thinner, or something." When he just looked back at you blankly, you shrugged.
"What would the cure be?"
"Time," you replied, your face apologetic, as Din's own fell. "You just need time until your body adapts. Take it easy. No more trips to Walmart," you instructed, smiling when he seemed relieved by that. "Drink plenty of fluids. Get some real rest," you emphasized, giving him a pointed look when he sighed at you.
There was a beat of silence before Din asked, "So, then why isn't the kid sick?" Din nodded toward Grogu playing on the floor, oblivious to the grown-ups talking about him.
With a frown, you looked back at the kid in question. Aside from being a bit discombobulated and tired when waking up that first time, he didn't quite fit your working diagnosis of his keeper's symptoms. "I don't know if I have a good answer for that," you had to admit. "Maybe it's because he isn't human?" Din's surprised look upon hearing you acknowledge that fact for the first time made your lips quirk, but you quickly countered, "Didn't say he was an alien, just said he wasn't human." However, it was becoming increasingly harder to accept any other possibility, and judging by the look Din was giving you, he could see your towering walls of skepticism begin to falter. "Whatever he is, maybe his anatomy helps him adjust," you took a stab at a guess. "Or he's a kid, and kids are resilient," you shrugged. "I told you it might sound stupid," you mumbled, turning to look at the green, pointy-eared toddler playing with wooden blocks on your living room floor.
"It doesn't." The softly spoken words made you look back at him. "That may be the smartest thing I've heard you say since I met you."
"Dick," you huffed before giving him a playful shove on his shoulder.
There was a brief moment when the two of you shared a smile, and you swore Din leaned into your touch, and you responded with a comforting squeeze of his muscular arm. Your fingers lingered when you felt the tense muscles unfurl under them. Encouraged by his body's response, you continued to gently massage his shoulder. From this position on the couch, a thin strip of sunlight shone through the gap in the curtains, highlighting the lighter amber hues in his rich mahogany eyes. Something about his smile and the way the light caught his eye made him appear younger. Maybe younger was the wrong word. More like he was no longer carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Din's mouth was open to say something, but the moment was broken by the sound of tires on the gravel drive, right before Rick's truck horn gave two quick honks to alert you that he'd arrived.
The way your hand flew from the man was almost comically quick, as if he had burned you. "I need to go deal with Rick and my dad's truck," you said, flying up from the couch, studiously avoiding those brown puppy dog eyes that were watching your every move. "But regardless, the best thing you could do to help with your symptoms is to drink plenty of water and get some rest," you implored, hoping your Spaceman would listen to you for once. "If I'm right, nothing but time can fix what you're experiencing. And no offense, but you're turning into kinda a grump the longer you stay awake," you teased, gently kicking at the rubber sole of his shoe with the toe of your riding boot, earning you a glare from your Spaceman. "Take Grogu, go upstairs, and take a nap," you ordered, with a point, before turning to head outside. "You'll feel better for it."
You let the muttered, 'karking bossy Earth woman,' roll off your shoulders as you turned to head outside to meet Rick and learn the fate of your truck.
"Yeah, she's a goner."
"What? You haven't even looked at her!" you argued, patting the dented hood of your pickup before turning your smile and pleading eyes to Rick.
Dressed in his typical gray work coveralls, Rick lowered his head to peer over the rims of his glasses at the truck, studying the shattered, broken-out windshield, and how the hood over the engine looked dented in half, and then at you. "Sweetheart -"
"Rick," you groaned, and amped up the pleading eyes. "Please just take a look under the hood. I can live with the dented hood and get someone out to replace the windshield! What if it is something easy to fix?"
With a sigh, Rick shook his head but still went to humor you. The dented hood was stuck, and it took both of you to open it. The red rusted metal was stubborn, and you deliberately avoided Rick's glare as you grimaced until the steel finally caved to your will and opened with a deafening screech. Thanks to how and where it was dented, the hood stayed open on its own, revealing the engine.
Or what was left of the engine.
You were no mechanic, but you were fairly certain that some of its parts weren't supposed to fall to the ground once the hood was open.
Rick gave you a skeptical look and started poking around on it. When his hand reached to unhook the battery, you both leaped back from the truck as the engine let out a low, groaning noise before the pieces that held it in place gave way and the entire thing dropped to the ground.
"She's a goner," Rick deadpanned as he pulled a rag from his pocket to wipe some of the engine grime from his hand.
"Damn it," you muttered, giving the driver's side tire a dejected kick.
"Don't beat yourself up too hard. She was forty-plus years old and still used daily as a working farm truck. Her time was gonna come sooner or later," Rick tried to console you as he tried to fix his thinning gray and white hair on the top of his head when a breeze blew through. "Consider yourself lucky that her final act was to save your life from whatever landed on ya."
"I know," you sighed. "I was just really hoping it was gonna make it through the busy season before I had to look for a new one."
"Pretty sure that's what you told me last year when she broke down, and the year before that when you got the tires replaced, and the year before that when she broke down, and the year before that when she broke down," he countered with a knowing look. When you rolled your eyes, he gave you an easy-going chuckle. "We'll find ya something reliable for a reasonable price. If we can't find anything close, I've got a buddy in the city who manages the repair shop at one of the dealerships. I'll give him a call and set up a time to look at some options. He'll make sure none of those car salesmen yank ya around too much."
"Thanks, Rick. I appreciate you coming out here," you said, giving the mechanic an honest smile.
One of those small-town perks: Living in a town small enough that the mechanic was willing to make house calls. However, while you appreciated the perks, they were also among the biggest pitfalls of living in a small town. Everybody knew everybody. Rick had been one of your dad's best friends. Rick's wife, Rita, had been Rick's high school sweetheart and owned the bar that Cassie managed. Your dad had been Rick's best man and had met your mom at their wedding. You and Cassie played soccer with their son in high school, and to this day, you continue your yearly Thanksgiving dinner tradition with their family. But sometimes, those pitfalls were worth the perks, especially if you got free house calls from the only mechanic you trusted.
Rick waved you off, but you caught him looking around the yard, likely looking for an excuse to stick around to fix something up.
"I've already got fence supplies and some stuff to patch up the barn roof," you told him, as his attention immediately turned to the damaged fence.
Aside from damage to the fence and barn roof, you were pleased with yourself for not having anything obvious that needed fixing. As you said, there were perks and pitfalls. The perk was Rick coming to fix something simple on one of your or Cassie's cars, and the pitfall was that he ended up staying for the rest of the day, fixing things that weren't up to his standards. While you should be (and were extremely) thankful for him volunteering as your handyman, it usually turned into a whole-day affair, pulling you or Cassie along with him as he talked his way through how to repair this or that, leaving you both exhausted by the time he left. But this time… this time you were finally starting to get the hang of things. You'd even forced yourself to get the garden beds along the porch perimeter cleaned on Cassie and Rosie's first weekend away, and had plans to take Rosie to the local garden shop to pick out some flowers once they got back in town.
However, while you were proud of yourself, Rick seemed disappointed that there was nothing for him to fuss over this time.
When his eyes landed on the garage, he asked, "You're not driving that deathtrap to get around, are you?"
Well, except for that.
"You saw me on it at your shop yesterday," you reminded him with a knowing smirk.
"You know, Rita and I can get around with one car… How about you drive hers until Cassie gets back in town?"
"Oh, Rick, that's sweet, but I'll be fine -"
"I insist," he argued. "We've got more storms coming in next week. I don't want to be thinking about you trying to get back and forth from the hospital in a storm. Rita is covering for Cassie at the bar this week anyway, so she'll be stuck there in the evenings. It won't be nothing for me to drive her around. I'll run it by her, but I'm sure she won't mind. We'll drop it off in the morning, and I'll bring the tow truck with me and haul this one away."
Your eyes drifted to Old Reliable, and a sigh left your chest. For all you complained about the bucket of bolts, there was something that didn't sit right with you about it not being on the farm. You didn't have a single memory of this farm without that truck being here. It had been your grandfather's, and some of your first memories were of riding around in the red steel truck bed as your grandfather drove it through the pasture to check on the cows. After your grandparents passed and your family moved into the farmhouse, your dad and Rick worked tirelessly to restore it until it was almost brand-new again. You'd learn to drive at ten on the tractor. Then, learned those skills transferred fairly easily when it was time to learn how to drive in your mom's SUV. Your dad had gotten a new truck right before you turned sixteen and had passed Old Reliable down to you. He'd been the one to teach you how to drive a stick in that truck. You'd stalled it out ten times trying to make it down the gravel drive that first time…
"Thank you, I really appreciate it," you told him with a tight smile, pushing aside the memories of when you used to be a happy family of four. There was no need to get emotional over a fucking truck. There would be one from this decade out there that would fit your needs. It was just a truck. Besides, there would be no talking Rick out of it anyway. And you weren't really thrilled about riding the bike in the rain and storms. "Let me know if I can do something to repay you guys."
"Don't worry about it," he shrugged. Then, in a very un-Rick-type move, you watched as he began shifting uncomfortably. "Listen," he finally started, scrunching his face before grabbing his glasses to clean them, as if he were fighting over whether to speak his mind. "It's not really my place, but have you talked to your dad recently?"
"No," came your instant, flat response.
Rick nodded at the answer as if he had expected that. "He wrote me a letter about a month back -"
"You're right," you cut him off and crossed your arms over your chest as you stared the older man down. "It's not your place."
"Alright," Rick gave in with a sigh and an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, forget I said anything."
Your posture relaxed at that. Rick hadn't meant any harm by the comment. He was just one of your dad's oldest friends, and he felt obligated to extend an olive branch to you.
Too bad there weren't enough olive branches in this world, or your Spaceman's, to ever consider making contact with your father again.
"This probably also ain't any of my business," Rick continued, and you realized his attention was now on the living room window overlooking the front porch. "And I am well aware that you are a grown woman, but do you know there is a man inside your house?"
Your eyes narrowed at your nosy Spaceman peeking out from behind the curtains to check on you. So much for thinking he'd actually take your advice and take a nap. At your pointed glare, the curtains fluttered closed, blocking Din from view once more.
"Yeah," you sighed.
"You don't sound particularly thrilled about that, Sweetheart. Do you need Uncle Rick to go chase him out on his ass? I've got my gun -"
"No!" you jumped in, and Rick threw his hands up in surrender. The last thing you needed was a showdown between Rick, with his pistol, and Din, with his phaser. "Although I appreciate the offer. It's, uh, it's actually not what you're thinking." At the look of Rick's skepticism, you glared defensively at the old mechanic. "For your information… I… hired a farmhand," you fibbed with a shrug.
"A farmhand?" Rick asked, looking between you and the window where Din had just been spying on you.
"Yup," you nodded. "Things are getting ready to get busy, and I'd like to turn a profit for once this year. If I have an extra hand, that takes some stuff off Cassie's and my plates. Besides, Rosie is going to start competitive soccer this year, so I'll have Cassie even less. I also signed up for a stall at the city's farmers' market this year to make some extra cash, and I'm kinda excited about it. I got into pickling things last year and think I can make a little niche with that on top of selling the usual vegetables and flowers."
Rick nodded along with you, buying into the story. "Who'd you hire? You steal one of the Thompsons' hands?"
"Nope. New guy, actually. You could say he kinda fell into my lap." At Rick's skepticism, you shrugged. "Lucky that our paths crossed before someone else scooped him up. He was hurt, and in need of a job, and… At the risk of sounding like my father, I don't think he's got… papers," you finished with a mock-whisper.
"Ah," Rick nodded. "Say no more. Just promise me you're being safe."
"I'm being safe. He seems okay so far. He needs a place to crash and save some money until he can get back on his feet and get home. I figure if I can get him to stick around for at least a couple of months, I'll be better off than I have been the last few years."
"I've been sayin' you girls needed help all these years, but I know things have been tight. Hopefully, he works out."
"Thanks. Hey, you don't happen to know who my dad used to help a couple of the farmhands in the past get some IDs, do you?"
"Sure don't, but you know who you could arrange to talk to to find out…"
"Yeah, not gonna happen," you grumbled. "I'm sure I can figure something out if it comes to that, but thanks for stopping by, and tell Rita thanks for letting me borrow her car for the week. I'm sure I can scrounge up something sweet to bring for payment when I return the car."
With a wave and a plan for him to drop Rita's car off and tow only the engine away in the morning, you watched the dust rise from the gravel drive as his truck pulled away, then went to check on what trouble your guests had gotten into while you were outside.
Your feet stopped in the hallway, and you had to blink at the sight before you. The living room looked as if a small bomb had gone off after Din had spread out his new wardrobe across the couch and table. Grogu watched the man as he organized everything, but when he caught you in the hallway, he smiled and lifted the green block in his hand before he went back to building a tower almost as tall as he was with Rosie's old block sets in front of the TV.
"I thought I told you to take a nap," you commented as you turned to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
"You got me too much stuff," Din called back from the living room.
"No, I got you enough stuff to get you started," you countered as you returned to the living room, water bottle in hand.
Your Spaceman dropped the white shirts onto the couch, leveling a serious look your way. "I don't have the credits to pay you back."
With a shrug, you replied, "That's what credit cards are for."
"Dorothy -"
"Din," you interrupted, earning you a dark-eyed glare from across the room. "We'll figure it out later. Maybe you'll have to return the favor someday and buy me a spacesuit when I come visit your spaceship," you deadpanned, earning you an eye roll. "If you end up stuck here for a while, I've got some ideas that we can talk about, but let's hope another wormhole or something opens up to suck you back up to where you belong before we have to resort to that." Din frowned and placed his hands on his hips to check on Grogu, who was playing behind him. "In the meantime, we need to come up with a story to tell people about you. Especially now that Rick knows about you, since you couldn't stop yourself from snooping."
"I heard a noise," he grumbled as you plopped down to sit on the couch.
"It's okay," you waved him off and went to grab the stack of jeans beside you, and began picking at the sticker on one of the legs. "If it had to be anyone here to catch you, at least it was Rick. He and his wife, Rita, are old friends of my parents. Rick and my dad grew up together, and Rita owns the bar that my friend Cassie manages," you explained as you peeled the long sticker from the leg of the jeans in your lap. "He's gonna come back tomorrow and haul the engine off with his tow truck, and because they are saints, they're gonna let me borrow Rita's car until Cassie gets back."
Din's brow furrowed as he folded one of the black shirts and added it to the pile on the small table. "So, if he is hauling it off, does that mean he can fix it?"
The loud raspberry you unleashed at his question, followed by a dramatic thumbs-down, was the best answer you could manage. Din looked guilty, but Grogu giggled from the floor at the noise, making you smile.
"Sorry," he murmured, looking down at the coffee table, where piles of his clothes lay folded with neat military precision, almost as if he were avoiding you.
"Unless you're lying about the whole outer space story, and you were actually trying to get picked up by a tornado…" you tapered off, looking up from the trousers to give him a pointed look. When Din rolled his eyes, you smiled and went back to removing stickers and tags from the denim jeans. "Then it's not completely your fault," you attempted to assuage him. "Honestly, I'm not sure how that truck hadn't fallen apart years ago. If it wasn't you, I was probably one pothole away from pulling a Fred Flintstone. But it's now going to live to serve a new purpose," you announced with a tired nod, not bothering to explain the reference when you caught his confused look. "I think I can roll it to the vegetable garden and convert it into a herb garden. Just have to figure out what I'm gonna get to replace it," you shrugged before muttering to yourself, "or how I'm gonna afford it."
"I want to find a way to pay you back," he implored, ignoring your attempts to brush him off. "For all of it," he finished, motioning to the clothing and toiletries around him.
You looked up at him from your spot on the sofa with the denim trousers folded neatly in your lap and could tell by the look of grim determination on his face that there would be no convincing him otherwise. "Like I said, we will cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, if someone asks, I'll tell them what I told Rick. You're my new farmhand. Congrats." His brows and forehead wrinkled at that. "Don't worry, just what we're gonna tell people."
Although… as soon as the lie left your lips earlier, the idea had taken root in your head, and you were struggling to remind yourself that it was just a cover story.
Things were about to get very busy, and having an extra hand to help would be… well, you didn't have the words to express exactly how amazing that would be, but there was no point in getting your hopes up. The moment you made a plan, a wormhole would open up and take your Spaceman and his radioactive Furby back just as quickly as it deposited them. Still, the thought of having someone to help with the routine chores, not to mention managing the farm while you and Cassie worked and juggled taking care of Rosie, was enough to have you secretly hoping your guests ended up stuck with you for a little while longer.
"I don't have any experience with crops," Din began hesitantly, garnering your attention again. "But I don't mind helping out while we're here," he offered, giving you an uncertain shrug. "It's the least I could do."
"Really?" you asked, feeling your hopes rise despite yourself. "You wouldn't mind doing some chores and stuff around the farm?"
Din shrugged again. "Why not? Especially after everything you've done for us. Taking us in, treating our wounds, you purchased supplies for me… And if your offer of housing Grogu and me while we figure out how to get back still stands, I might as well do something while I'm here."
"I promise you, if you can fly a spaceship, you can drive a tractor," you chuckled, sharing a smile with Din. "And before we get too far ahead of ourselves, I need to run long-term accommodations by Cassie since she and her daughter live here too, but I'm fairly certain that the second that the words: "No more early morning chores," come from my mouth, she'll have no problem with it." Comfortable silence settled over the living room, and you smiled when you heard Grogu's quiet grunts as he attempted to climb onto the couch to join you. "What do you think, buddy?" you asked the tiny green child as you leaned over to pick him up and put him on your lap. "Think you can handle farm life for a little bit?"
Grogu looked up at you with a toothy grin before settling into your lap. "I think that means yes," Din translated, smiling at his ward, hands on his hips.
Still smiling, you checked your phone before turning around to peek through the curtains to look outside. "If you're up for it, how about we go look for your helmet?" you offered, turning back to look at him. "I'd say we have two, maybe three hours before we lose the light." At Din's nod, you tossed the jeans in a messy pile on top of his neatly folded clothes before standing, cradling Grogu against your chest as you rose. "But when we get back, we're gonna have an early dinner, and you need to promise me that you'll try and turn in early."
Din nodded, exhaustion radiating from him. "Deal," he acquiesced with a long sigh.
With an understanding nod, you turned your attention to the green child, who looked up at you wide-eyed. "Grogu, have you ever ridden a horse before?"
There was something about riding Jack that made you feel free.
The fact that there were a million and one things that could go wrong. At the top of that list was the fact that the ginormous, black beast carrying you could turn on you at a moment's notice (not that Jack ever would), and it lit a fire inside your very soul every time you slid into the saddle.
As if Jack had known he was purchased for you, he claimed you as his person, and that was that. He tolerated your dad's other draft horses, but never allowed himself to be hooked up to your dad's antique horse-and-buggy cart, which he would pull out once or twice a year for whatever town event called for it. During his younger years, he was quite the escape artist, learning to get out of stalls and pens. Your neighbors became quite familiar with the new massive horse, and there were many a time you had to find him on someone else's property and drag all nineteen hundred pounds of him back home. Thankfully, he mellowed out in his mid-teens, and for the most part, Jack stays close by nowadays.
For a ginormous horse, he was a smooth ride, even when you made him go faster than a walk. He was the perfect horse to take trail riding with Rosie when the weather was nice. Not a lot spooked him, and most other people and animals took one look at the eighteen-hands-tall, sleek black behemoth and kept their distance.
But as you said, you were his person. And while he did great with Rosie and other kids, he couldn't care less about other adults - especially men. While your dad may have been the one to bring him home, Jack took great pleasure in chasing him, ignoring him, or being downright insufferable whenever your dad tried to do anything with him.
One time, Jack took off the second your dad tried to come into the pen with him, and somehow managed to find you at the school (which was ten miles from your home), where you were having after-school soccer practice. After everyone got their laughter under control at the unexpected arrival of your horse, your coach tried to refocus everyone on practice, but Jack apparently had other ideas. You watched through your fingers, mortified when Jack took off with your coach's baseball cap, and were relieved of your embarrassment when your coach immediately excused you from the rest of practice to take the menace to society home. Your dad had apparently been driving around looking for the black pain in the ass, and the second your dad caught you riding him bareback in your soccer clothes and backpack down the country roads towards home, he followed beside you in his new truck, a shiny blue Ford F-250, cursing your horse the entire way. "Jackass is more like it," he'd grumbled from the car, to which you corrected him with, "That's Sir Jackass to you." Jack even stood up a little straighter at the mention of the name. Thus, the name "Sir Jackass" was born.
Grogu's laughter brought a bright smile to your face. The green Furby was absolutely mesmerized by Jack, and the feeling seemed mutual. For the toddler, anyway. The second you got him tacked up, he trotted to try and nip at Din again, but your Spaceman was agile enough to jump over the fence before Jack could reach him. With Jack saddled up, you strapped what used to be Rosie's, but was now Grogu's, baby harness to your chest and took off toward the field's fence line while Din took to the dirt field to start your search.
"You gotta hold the reins like this," you instructed, pulling the dark brown leather reins so Grogu could grab them.
You watched as Grogu struggled to grasp the reins in his tiny, three-fingered hands, and you smiled easily, knowing that you had Jack trained well enough that he would pay more attention to your legs and heels than to the reins. Grogu squealed and bobbed the reins up and down, making Jack turn to see what was going on before he continued meandering down the path, completely unfazed by the toddler's antics.
With Grogu occupied, you returned your attention to the small wooded strip that divided your fields. It was nothing but a small strip of overgrown grass, brush, and trees, but it served as a windbreaker, providing some protection for the young crops from the severe winds that tended to come through. You'd already scoured the fence line by the main road all the way to the end of your property, where the electric company had linemen out, replacing one of the poles the tornado had knocked down. None of the workers saw a helmet in the area (you'd asked after shoving Grogu further into the carrier to keep him out of view). By the time you made it around the outer perimeter, it had already been an hour and a half, and judging by Din's current location, he'd maybe only gotten a quarter of this field searched. You couldn't wait to see the look on his face when you told him there were still two more fields, all this size, on your property alone.
You pulled your search away from the small overgrown divider to shout, "We're starting to lose the light!"
Din looked up from the tilled ground, and you gave him a commiserating smile at the exhausted look in his eyes and the sweat dripping from his brow. If he didn't pass out before you figured out what to do about dinner, you would definitely be encouraging him to take something to help him get some rest.
Grogu chirped and giggled as he showed Din the leather reins in his hands, making some of the Spaceman's frown lines fade at the sight of his ward so happy.
"How much further does your land go?" he called back, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Uh, on this half -"
"Half?" He interrupted, and you watched the hope slowly drain from him as he looked around at the tilled fields.
"Yeah," you confirmed with a grimace. We have this field and that one," you paused, pointing to the other field on the other side of the wooded partition you were currently patrolling. "Then there is a pasture about this size that runs the width of the property behind the house that also has my vegetable garden."
Din sighed as he scrubbed his face.
"We used to own some more acres on the other side of the next field over, but I had to sell that off a few years ago," you continued idly as you scoured the trees and brush. "But I was able to sell it to the neighbor, and he won't mind if we take a look if it comes to that. I just need to text him to figure out where the cattle are. He's got a couple of longhorn bulls that you do not want to cross paths with."
"Great," Din tried, and failed, to mutter to himself. "It may take weeks to thoroughly search your property as it is," he sighed.
Assuming it was even on your property and hadn't flown off to parts unknown... However, you kept the pessimistic thought to yourself.
"If it's not here, I think we should concentrate closer to the barn and the house tomorrow," you said, searching the downed limbs from the flimsy trees that didn't survive the wind. "That's closer to where you landed. Maybe it got knocked under the porch or something."
When you didn't get a response, you looked back and found your Spaceman standing in the middle of the field, hands on his hips with his back to you, watching the sun set. You couldn't help but smile at the picture. You'd told him this morning that a country sunrise was second only to a country sunset.
You'd lived here your whole life, and were still mesmerized by them. It was nice to see they were beautiful enough to capture your Spaceman's attention.
Today's sunset was a kaleidoscope of yellows, oranges, pinks, purples, and blues, making the sky look as if it were on fire. The gradients were intertwined and ever-changing, as if someone were painting them before your very eyes.
This place may be the armpit of America, but at least it has one thing going for it.
Content to let your guest enjoy the views, you returned your focus to the task at hand. "Can you say giddy up?" you snickered into the Furby's pointy ear as you brought your fingers up to his sides to see if… Shrill giggles echoed through the fields, accompanied by your amused laughter, as you discovered that the tiny alien child was ticklish.
A downed tree in the distance redirected your attention from the fun moment with your new adorable friend. There were more downed trees nearby, creating a path through the wooded partition. Judging by the state of the ground in this area, you felt confident that the tornado tracked right through here.
"I know you hate it, Jack, but we're gonna have to rig you up to haul some of these out of the way," you told your old, trusty horse with a couple of pats to his shoulder. "Just enough so I can get the tractor back here."
Jack's only response was a muffled huff as he gracefully stepped over the larger tree trunk.
With the sun directly in front of you, the light was almost as much a hindrance as it was helpful. Even with your hand on your forehead to shield your eyes from the glare, it was almost enough to make you call off the search for today. However, before you could open your mouth to suggest heading back, something shiny caught your attention.
You quickly snatched the reins from Grogu and eased Jack to a stop with a soft, "Whoa."
Din was still in the middle of the field, a bit away from you, but still within yelling distance. Not wanting to get his hopes up, you decided to investigate first. With some maneuvering, you got Jack turned around to head back to the downed tree.
Your heart jumped at the sleek, shiny black helmet propped against a rock. "Hey!" you shouted across the field, and when Din turned hopeful eyes to you, you looked back at him and yelled, "What color was your helmet?"
"Silver!" he called back, already marching through the dirt field toward you.
"Like the rest of your coat of arms?" You frowned and looked back at the helmet. Nope, definitely not silver. "Mmm, no, this is black," you yelled over your shoulder as you inched Jack closer for a better look.
Grogu began to whine, and you raised a hand to comfort the child. "It's okay, I'll give you the reins back in just a sec, buddy," you assured him as you crept Jack closer.
On second look, this wasn't just a helmet.
"Actually," you began, stroking Grogu's head to comfort him as his cries grew louder. "This is more than a helmet. It's like a whole robot or something."
One of the larger trees had been knocked over by the tornado, and the metal robot-looking thing had been crushed at the waist. The thought crossed your mind that this might be another armored person like Din, but the anatomical proportions weren't strictly human. It was also mostly a solid piece of black metal with exposed wires where you would have expected to find organs.
"You don't use droids to help in the fields?" your Spaceman asked from somewhere behind you.
"Yeah, I wish," you snarked. "If I had a fleet of robots to help me, then I wouldn't need you as a farmhand," you teased, giving him a grin over your shoulder before returning your attention to the fascinating robot. "I've never seen anything like this before. I hate to say it, but it looks like something straight out of a Sci-Fi show or book. And I know the neighbors, and the only one with kids is five miles away, and those boys are idiots. There is no way they could have built something like this. It's pinned under a tree -" your description ended abruptly when the robot's head ticked, once… and then twice before its arms and fingers began moving as well.
"Oh my god, Din!" you gasped as the robot opened its eyes. Red LED lights, or something similar, blinked at you before the helmet started looking around, as if it were trying to get its bearings. "I think it's alive or something!" You couldn't be bothered to hide your excitement, even as Grogu's cries intensified and he began banging his tiny hands against your chest. "Its eyes are open, and they're like these red lights! It's looking right at us, but it can't get up!"
The next few moments happened too quickly.
As you began to ease yourself from Jack, Din's frantic screams made you stop right as your butt came out of the saddle.
"Dorothy!"
With a confused frown, you looked toward your Spaceman, only to find him sprinting toward you with terror on his face.
"Run!"
Run? Why would you run? You looked back at the black metal robot, trying to figure out why it had put the fear of god into Din. It was just a fucking robot. A robot that was crushed under a tree trunk at that. It wasn't like it could stand or even walk.
What's the worst it could do?
With your ass still hovering over the saddle, you watched curiously as the robot seemed to lock its sights on Grogu, who was still strapped to your chest, having a full-blown meltdown at this point. You were beginning to wonder if he was scared of the robot rather than throwing a tantrum about not being the one holding Jack's reins.
And in slow motion, you watched the sleek black metal robot with red eyes lift its arm and shoot at you.
Seconds passed in a flash and felt too long at the same time. The beam of light that came from its arm was eerily similar to Din's phaser. Thankfully, whether it was because the robot was damaged, or so low to the ground, or you were up so high, the shot missed your head or chest, but did strike you across the right calf and graze Jack's flank.
You screamed at the feeling of fire ripping through your skin. Jack reared back on his hindquarters and let out a piercing cry. Between the scorching pain along your calf, Jack's fear, and the awkward position in the saddle, there was nowhere for you to go but down.
Din screamed for you as you fell from your horse for the first time in years. All you could do was brace yourself for impact, ensuring that Grogu was as safe and protected as possible. Unfortunately, there was no graceful way to fall from a horse roughly six feet from its shoulders to the ground.
The breath was knocked from you when you landed on the dirt ground, and you watched helplessly, gasping for air as Jack reared back one more time before taking off.
"Jack!" came your strained, raspy plea for your horse to return as you struggled for air, but it was no use.
It would seem that your unspookable horse finally met his match with the battle robot from fucking outer space.
With a rush, air returned to your lungs, bringing a painful, stabbing sensation. Instantly, you checked on Grogu. "Are you okay, buddy?" you gasped, patting down the green toddler in your charge. You were relieved to see him blinking up at you with matching tears in his eyes, and, thankfully, he appeared unharmed. When you tried to stand up to run, more pain flared in your right leg, and you collapsed back against the ground.
When the pain kept you from your second attempt to stand, you looked at your calf, only to begin crying at the sight of blood oozing through your jeans.
A blur streaked past you towards the robot, now flailing in the mud, as it tried to claw its way towards you. At the sound of the robot firing more shots, you wrapped your arms around Grogu and used your body as a human shield, pinning Grogu between you and the ground. At the sound of a distinctive, human grunt, you risked a glance, expecting to see Din at your side. However, your jaw dropped as Din lowered to the ground and slid the rest of the way towards the robot, avoiding the randomly firing blasts.
"What are you doing?!" you screeched at the insane man from outer space.
"Stay back!" Din ordered as he put the robot into a headlock.
Stay back. You'd scoff at the man if you could stop crying.
"That thing shot me!"
"And I'm taking care of it!" his roar of anger echoed back.
"You're taking care of it?" you scoffed this time. "It shot me," you seethed. "What are you gonna do against an evil, killing machine?"
Sparks shot from the robot's middle as Din tugged on its head, forcing it out from under the tree and stretching it and its wires. The robot's red eyes shifted from you and Grogu to its attacker, then attempted to grab Din.
"Din!" Your call of warning came moments before the robot fired off a wayward shot, narrowly missing Din's head.
This was it. You were going to die in this field by an evil robot from outer space, side by side with legitimate aliens.
The all-too-familiar pain in your leg led to a crack in your heavily armored defenses, allowing memories to surface of flashing red and blue lights and the sound of your screams filling your mind.
No. You steeled yourself, pushing those memories back down. The only thing they would do is ensure you went catatonic, and there wasn't time for that. Not with others relying on you. You'd been through too much. You'd survived too much to die at the hands of some sentient Terminator bot.
You bared your teeth as you struggled to get to your feet. The pain from the evil robot's phaser radiated up your leg and through your entire body, preventing you from being quick, but you weren't going to stop trying.
"This is why you don't leave your weapons behind!" Din growled as he continued attempting to decapitate the robot's head.
"Is now really the time to argue about me forcing you to leave your phaser behind?!" you shouted angrily back from your hands and knees in the dirt.
No sooner had the question left your lips than the robot lifted its right arm toward Din's chest.
Your scream died in your chest as you watched your hero, swathed in black, blast through the wooded partition with an angry neigh. Ears directed forward, nostrils flaring, there was Jack, barrelling towards where Din was currently wrestling with the robot in the dirt. You could feel the ground tremble beneath your hands as Jack's hooves pounded against the Earth in his rush to your defense. Jack huffed as he skidded to a stop and gave one warning stomp in the dirt. Both Din and the robot turned in sync to find Jack chomping angrily above them before he reared back.
"Move!" you yelled to Din, who seemed frozen by your horse, but quickly let go of the robot's neck and rolled out of the way just in time for Jack to bring all nineteen hundred pounds down on the evil robot's chest.
The metal snapped, and sparks flew, but Jack gave one last aggressive stomp with his front right hoof, and after a few angry spasms, the robot whirred once before powering down.
Once the red eyes disappeared, you collapsed on your back in the dirt again. "Good boy," you panted, grimacing as the pain in your leg flared from jostling it.
"Thanks for the save," you heard Din mumble to your horse. When you rolled your head to the side, you couldn't help but laugh through your tears of pain as Jack gave a couple of warning chomps in the air directed at Din before prancing to check on you. Din only snarled at the black draft horse as he picked himself up off the ground before making his way towards you.
"Hey, Jack," you whispered as your friend of almost twenty years came to your side. "Are you okay?" You asked, but before you could try to see how bad his wound was, your vision was flooded with Jack's lips as he began gently gumming at the tears on your cheeks. "I'm gonna be okay thanks to you."
Grogu braved a peek from his harness and cooed at Jack's kisses on top of his head.
"Okay, buddy, come help me up," you winced, stretching your hand to try and grab the closest stirrup dangling at his side. Unfortunately, the downfall of having a horse whose shoulders were as tall as Din's head meant everything was up higher, making it impossible for you to reach anything without at least sitting up.
"Here," Din murmured in his deep baritone as he suddenly appeared at your side to inspect your injuries.
"Don't touch it with your dirty hands," you seethed, earning you a perturbed side-eye from Din. "Here, just help me up."
"You're bleeding -"
"Yeah, I know," you snapped, thrusting a finger toward the black robot. "The T-800 Terminator robot you brought with you from outer space fucking shot me!"
"I didn't bring it with me!" Din growled back. However, before you could argue with him, Din gripped the torn edges of your damaged skinny jeans and ripped them from your calf all the way to your ankle.
"Hey!"
"That was a Death Trooper," he explained, ignoring your protests over your torn jeans. He studied your phaser wound for a moment before he continued to rip at your jeans. "Gideon and the Imps tracked us to Tython somehow and sent them down to kidnap Grogu." You kept your mouth shut and watched as Din expertly took the strips of your jeans and turned them into a makeshift tourniquet just above your knee to help control the bleeding. "One of the last things I remember is slipping past the force field that was surrounding the kid, when one of those things fired at us."
"You said there was an explosion," you replied softly in the lull of his story.
Din froze with his hands near your knee. Your bad knee. The one that was scarred and marred from your accident years ago, but thankfully, there was enough blood and dirt on your leg now that it did a decent job of hiding it. For now. "Right," he said, nodding slowly, as if he'd forgotten what he'd told you when he first woke up. "One of them fired at us, there was an explosion, and then… we ended up on your vehicle."
Your terrified face returned to the black robot with a giant chasm in its chest, compliments of Jack. "Not to be this person," you began in a whisper, looking at Din, hoping he wasn't about to confirm your unsettling suspicions. "But when you were explaining what a Death Robot was -"
"Death Trooper," he corrected with a sigh.
"Whatever. You kept saying them… like that kinda implies there was more than one." No sooner had the words left your mouth than all eyes, human, Furby, and equine alike, seemed to converge on the crushed robot.
Din's mouth set in grim realization before his gaze returned to your terrified eyes. "There were three or four that I saw."
"Then… if this one came through the wormhole or whatever with you…" you began nervously, eyes brimming with tears. Whether those tears were from the pain or the thought that there were more out there, you weren't sure. "Did more come?"
"I don't know," he whispered. After glimpsing another tear streak down your face, Din shifted beside you and gently reached for your hand. "But, Dorothy, as long as I'm here, I won't let anything happen to you," came his solemn vow that filled you with a surprising amount of comfort.
However, all you could do in that moment was nod. You allowed yourself to collapse back to the ground and covered your face with your free hand to hide a couple of quiet sobs while you tried to pull yourself together.
"Dorothy?"
"I believe you," you sobbed. After another minute, you wiped the tears from your face and locked eyes with his concerned brown ones staring down at you. "I believe you. About all of it." Din's hand gave yours another tentative squeeze, and you gripped his back tightly.
There was no explanation that you could justify that made sense. Grogu, jet packs, and now, phaser-shooting robots… You had two honest-to-goodness aliens, a now disabled death robot on your property, and a fucking phaser wound to your right calf to boot. What other explanation could explain all of that and your two travelers?
You looked between Din's concerned eyes and Grogu's overly large ones, feeling the weight of responsibility to keep them safe settle over your shoulders. You had fucking aliens on your farm. Aliens who had no idea what life was like on Earth, and worse, you had no idea how to help them get back home.
"I'm sorry," you sniffled, earning you a furrowed brow from the Spaceman kneeling beside you. "I'm sorry you got stuck with me."
Din's confusion only deepened, but you let your gaze lift to the sky. With the feeling of Din's thumb rubbing against your hand, you tried to figure out how you were the one who ended up with aliens landing on your truck and ended up getting shot by an evil robot that had been sent to hunt them down.
At Din's quiet, "Dorothy?" you felt another tear streak down your temple as the final dregs of your resolve crumbled around you.
🌪️ A/N: I don't know about y'all, but I think Jack was my fav in this chapter 🧡
Also, not to be a broken record, but y'all's comments legit bring the BIGGEST smile to my face. Low-key, y'all helped me pull through a couple of busy, draining weeks. So, sincerely, thank you, and thanks to the kudo explosion that happened after the last chapter. Really. I have no words. Y'all are the best. I hope you continue to enjoy 🧡
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
🧡 Tag List: @racheldon @leeroyjagginz @djarins-cyare @higgsvoidout @abandonedreaper @brunlocc
Please drop a comment or send me a message if you'd like to be added to the tag list 🧡
Country Roads Masterlist
Next chapter in series - Chapter 8: Regular ole Humans
🌪️ Chapter Summary: April 4th, twenty twenty-something: the day you decided it would be a good idea to take your Spaceman and his Furby to Walmart.
🌪️ Pairings: Fem!Earthling!Reader x Din Djarin
🌪️ Word Count: 11.8k
🧡 Author's Note: Din's first outing into the "real world" is finally upon us! Chapter warning at the end of the chapter if you need it. I promise at some point that I will stop putting Din through the emotional wringer... but today is not that day. XOXO 😘
🎵Chapter Soundtrack🎵 “Abel” - The National
AO3 Link to Ch 6
Chapter 6: Walmart
April fourth, twenty twenty-something
After watching the light pink and orange sunrise, Din helped gather the deck of playing cards and the lamp. Silence settled over the two of you in the early dawn hours. Only, what started as a comfortable, easy silence slowly turned into an uneasy one as Din began to withdraw into himself with each item he grabbed.
"Hey," you called quietly in the soft morning light, and when Din turned his sad puppy-dog eyes on you, you reminded him of your words from just a few minutes ago: "Everything is gonna be okay." With one last reassuring smile to your guest, you folded the blankets, and the two of you carried everything back inside the house. Not wanting to put anything away just yet, you dumped it on the recliner in the living room in favor of coffee.
Din followed you silently as you headed across the hall toward the kitchen in search of coffee. However, with each step he took, you could almost see the dark cloud you had worked so hard to disperse begin to reform over his head. You made your way to the coffee pot as he slid into what had become his seat at the kitchen table, silent and brooding. Not that you were a chatterbox in the morning. You could barely function without at least one cup of coffee, preferably two, so maybe it was for the best that the kitchen had gone quiet in the early morning hours.
While your Spaceman may be quiet and brooding now, that hadn't been the case all night. Even you had to admit that your unintended all-nighter had been surprisingly… fun?
You'd woken up from your usual nightmare to the sound of an empty house and had almost forgotten you'd had guests over until you heard the guest bedroom door close, followed by unsteady stomps down the hall toward the stairs. The clock on your phone displayed the ungodly hour of three twenty-three in the morning, so at least you had gotten some sleep. However, when you heard the screen door slam shut, you realized that going back to sleep was not in the cards for you. After checking the spare room to find Grogu still sleeping soundly in the crib, you decided to put your hoodie back on and check on his keeper. Lucky for him that you had, or he probably would have passed out on you again, or given himself a heart attack.
Finding an alleged man from outer space, who claimed to be a bounty hunter, having a panic attack on your front porch was not on your bingo card for the day, but somehow that still wasn't as surprising as his being dropped onto your truck by a tornado.
After working your Spaceman through his episode and some gentle prodding, he finally relaxed enough to start talking to you about his alleged travels through outer space, amongst other things. You found yourself getting sucked into his story. How could you not? Stories of cities suspended in the clouds, moons with purple grass, planets made of ice and lava… It might be the sleep deprivation talking, but you were actually starting to believe him. He spoke another language for Christ's sake. You would most definitely run your recording through Google Translate to see if it recognizes it. However, if it came back as Klingon, you'd be kicking both him and his green pet out on the curb.
But for now, you were content with housing your Spaceman and his radioactive pet Furby until you could figure out how to help them get back home. You just needed to figure out how to prep Cassie for the possibility that guests might stay with them for an unknown amount of time.
"What?" Din grumped from the table, pulling you from your thoughts. He rubbed his face before running a hand through his hair, only to make his disheveled look worse. That devilishly handsome disheveled look with his hair sticking up at odd angles, the five o'clock shadow slowly turning into actual scruff along his jaw, not to mention the way his biceps strained that poor, borrowed shirt.
The coffee pot picked that time to let out a loud belch between its normal gurgling sounds, snapping you out of oogling the exhausted stranger sitting at your kitchen table. "Nothing," you covered quickly, pushing off the counter to start on breakfast. "Everything okay? You've spent the last five minutes rubbing your temples."
"Headache," he murmured before heaving out an exhausted sigh.
"That's what you get for staying up all night," you tried to tease, and tossed him a playful wink when he raised an eyebrow at you. "Eggs okay?" you asked, already grabbing a few fresh eggs you'd collected from your chickens yesterday. "Might still have some veggies to make an omelet," you commented, staring into the almost depleted fridge. "I need to go to the store…"
"If I said you didn't need to do anything out of your way, would you listen?" he grumbled, giving you his patented scowl.
"Mmmm," you hummed in mock contemplation before settling with a grinning, "No."
Your Spaceman rolled his eyes. "Eggs sound great."
"Omelets it is." You went to work chopping up whatever veggies were left, a bell pepper and mushrooms, and used the last of the shredded cheese to add to your omelets while the coffee finished. "Hey, after breakfast, I've got some chores outside to do before the day starts. Why don't you come with me, and you can look for your helmet while I'm taking care of the animals?"
He seemed to perk up at that, and then the coffee pot finished its final sputtered notes, drawing his attention to the hot, rich-smelling beverage on the counter behind you.
"Coffee?"
At his eager nod, you grabbed two mugs and poured each of you a glass. You couldn't help but smirk at Din's response to the first sip of Earth's version of caf. It was the first thing he actually looked excited about, other than when he talked about his ship or his adventures with you in the middle of the night. Still, it was going to take more than a cup or two of coffee to rid him of the dark smudges under his eyes or free him from the cloak of exhaustion that was wrapped around him.
"I figure that we can wake Grogu up once I'm finished cooking, and then go out for a little bit." Din nodded, content to focus on his coffee rather than you. "Then, I will probably take off for a bit." That got his attention. "I need to go to the store and get some more food, especially if I'm gonna have guests for a bit." His mouth opened to argue, but you pointed the last bell pepper you were chopping up for omelets at him. "I know you're about to tell me not to go out of my way, but I also need to eat, and you thought fried calamari counts as currency here."
"Calamari Flan."
"Whatever. So, how are you going to feed yourself and Grogu?" Din slumped in his chair at that. "It's fine," you tried to assure him. "I don't mind. Really. I won't be gone long, and while I'm out, you should try to get some sleep."
"I'm fine," he muttered, but you shot him a look of disbelief before returning to the stove to work on breakfast.
"You're not," you argued without looking back at him. "You had a panic attack in the middle of the night. You haven't gotten any sleep since you woke up twenty-four hours ago after being dropped on top of my truck by a tornado. You're not alright. Your body has to be one giant bruise. You're running on adrenaline, and if you don't stop, you're gonna crash out. You need sleep. Your body needs rest. Your mind needs rest."
At his silence, you snuck a peek over your shoulder and found your guest staring forlornly into his mug. He needed sleep, but you had a feeling he wouldn't be getting any rest until he found his helmet. His religion, Creed, was strange and foreign to you, but there was no faking the pain in his eyes. Even in the dim lamp lighting, his dark, soulful eyes were screaming at you during your little talk last night.
"What?" he huffed, and your eyes went wide at getting caught staring… again.
"Just thinking about what it would be like to live in a city in the clouds," you said, covering with a smirk.
His pointed look indicated that he didn't quite believe you. "I'm gonna go wake the kid up," he sighed, then rose from the table and headed upstairs.
He may not be on the verge of a panic attack at this moment, but it seemed the dark cloud you thought he left outside returned over him since he sat down at the table for coffee. For his sake, you hoped he found his helmet and a way to return to where they belonged before that dark cloud of despair completely consumed him.
The rest of breakfast was a quiet affair.
Din remained quiet and subdued, appearing deep in thought. However, despite the dark cloud hovering over him, he still managed to compliment your caf and omelets. You learned that Din's green Foundling was much more of a morning… creature than its keeper or its current host, as it immediately greeted you with a bright smile and a giggle once Din got his charge situated in the booster seat. The three of you ate the omelets you cooked for breakfast in relative silence. Grogu would have eaten another one, and you would have made it for him if you hadn't used the last of the eggs and the leftover veggies. Once everyone seemed to have finished their plates and you and Din had polished off the carafe of coffee, Din stopped you from gathering the dirty dishes, surprising you by taking them to the sink to clean.
It would seem that your Spaceman had actual manners after all.
A short while later, you found yourself walking up the gravel drive toward the barn, still dressed in your pajamas and yellow Crocs, with the list of questions you'd asked him last night clutched in your hand. Din walked along the fence, still wearing your brother's clothes you lent him from last night, along with his boots, and carried a now-bright and alert Grogu to help him search the fence line for his missing helmet.
As your new Spaceman and his Furby patrolled the fence line, you went down your list of questions from last night, and the man answered every one of them exactly as he had yesterday. You'd thought you would be more relieved now that you could cross concussion off your list of concerns, but the conviction that Din had used to answer each question, not to mention the tales he had told you during the night, only made the remaining options more challenging. Challenging… confusing… those two words were almost interchangeable at this point. Part of you wanted him to slip up, to find a hole in his story, but a larger part of you was becoming increasingly terrified that you might actually have a couple of aliens on your hands.
Now that you were outside in the fresh morning air, the monosyllabic Spaceman was much more talkative after breakfast and a couple of cups of coffee. This time, while you went down your list of questions, he peppered you with questions between your own.
"Your people really don't travel off-world?" he asked, obviously finding it difficult to believe.
Meanwhile, you were struggling to believe you were even entertaining his questions.
"I mean… we've been to space. There's a space station in orbit somewhere that astronauts from all over the world stay on," you told him. "We've been to the moon, and we've got satellites and things, but that's pretty much it."
"What about visitors?"
"Visitors? From outer space? You mean other than you?" you asked, earning you a raised eyebrow from the man, as if he were silently saying, 'duh'. "If we have, I doubt the government would ever admit it. Doesn't stop the conspiracy theorists, though. We get a lot of good TV shows and movies about it. Star Trek is huge worldwide. E.T. is one of my favorite movies. Cassie and I got really into Doctor Who when she was pregnant and on bed rest. Actually, Rosie is named after Rose Tyler," you admitted with a chuckle, remembering watching Christopher Eccleston's final episode as the Doctor with Cassie, only for her to go into labor the moment David Tennant appeared on the screen.
But Din wasn't chuckling along. He frowned as the three of you reached the barn and came to a stop. "So… none of the planets in your system are inhabited?" he asked, as if struggling to wrap his mind around the concept.
This guy wasn't budging from the whole Spaceman aesthetic.
And then you remembered him taking you up in his jet pack last night, along with the stories about growing up and his travels…
"Let's say I buy into this whole," you paused to wave your hands at Din and Grogu, "Spaceman thing. Are you saying that every planet where you're from is inhabited?"
His shoulders instantly sagged at your question. "No."
"And of the ones that are inhabited, do all of the people there have the ability to travel in space? Like every planet is equipped with a spaceship dock or something?" He sighed and shook his head at your question. "I'm not, not saying that there isn't life out there," you continued with an apologetic shrug. "I'm just saying you're not gonna find it in this solar system." The man stayed silent, but you could tell from the faraway look in his brown eyes that he was somewhere out among those very stars you were discussing. "Look, I'm sorry," you started again. "I'm gonna be a little while dealing with everyone in here," you said, hooking your thumb at the barn and coop behind you. "Feel free to keep looking, and I'll come find you guys when I'm done."
As you turned the horses out and opened the chicken coop to start cleaning and feeding, you kept tabs on Din as he and Grogu continued scouring the nearby area for his helmet.
You wanted to believe Din, and while Grogu's existence made a compelling argument for the whole alien story, there just had to be a better, more realistic explanation. You kept one eye on your guests as you completed your chores, trying to figure out what his deal was, but your newfound Spaceman was an anomaly. By the time you were done, you found the stranger who had been taking up the majority of your thoughts leaning against the fence by your horse pen, holding onto Grogu while he let the child pet the muzzle of one of the older draft horses you owned.
Taking a moment to observe the sweet scene, you lingered near the chicken coop, holding a fresh basket of eggs. The horse was your personal favorite, mostly because it was the only one of the three that was yours. Most girls wanted a car for their sweet sixteen, but when your dad showed up on your birthday, hauling a trailer that held the horse before you, there wasn't anything you wanted more. At eighteen hands and somewhere around nineteen hundred pounds, the Clydesdale-Percheron cross was the largest of the three horses you owned, and maybe even the largest horse in the entire town. He was massive, and the sleek black coat and mane only added to his imposing presence. Thankfully, neither of your guests seemed intimidated by the creature that towered over Din.
"That's Jack," you said, introducing your guests to the large horse. You couldn't help but smile as Grogu squealed while he continued to stroke the horse's soft muzzle with his tiny three-fingered hand. "He normally doesn't like strangers." No sooner had the words left your mouth than the black Percheron cross nipped the man's bicep, but Din seemed unfazed. "Jack is also short for Sir Jackass. Sorry," you apologized as you approached your two guests.
Not that you could blame Jack. Even you wanted to nip at - Whoa, you stopped yourself from finishing that sentence, but you could already feel your face grow hot at the thought.
"It's fine," the man mumbled, holding out his hand for Jack to sniff before joining Grogu's hand to pet Jack's snout.
"No luck?" you asked, mentally willing your face to return to normal before Din looked at you. Hopefully, the man had found his prized helmet when you weren't looking, but he shook his head, silently answering your question. "We can take another look later. I think the weather is supposed to be pretty nice until sometime next week, so there are plenty of sunny hours in the next few days to look for it."
The only sign that Din heard you was a morose nod of acknowledgment while he and Grogu continued to pet Jack.
"You guys are welcome to stay here on the farm until you find it. Cassie and Rosie won't be back until sometime next weekend."
Another sullen nod.
"Jack seems rather smitten with Grogu," you commented with a pleased smile when Jack picked that moment to nuzzle the small green creature in the belly with his muzzle. Unfortunately, not even Grogu's squeals of delight could pull even a whisper of a smile from his keeper's face. "I'm gonna shower and change before I head to the store. Feel free to hang out with Jack for as long as you want. When I get back, we can go look a little deeper into the fields."
"Thanks," came his hollow, perfunctory response, but you could see him already losing hope.
You cast a nervous glance to your left when you heard the man's boots fall into step with you as you began your trek back to the farmhouse.
"Your clothes should be dry," you tried, looking to fill the slow walk that seemed to stretch forever in the awkward silence.
Din only nodded along to your words, but kept his eyes on his boots as they crunched over the gravel rocks.
Amid the continued silence, you snuck another look at the man walking beside you and caught his unfocused, glazed-over eyes, oblivious to his surroundings. The only thing that made watching the hope slowly leave Din's eyes bearable was the tiny green creature he was carrying. While Din appeared to be losing hope, Grogu looked around the farm with the biggest, toothiest smile you'd seen from the kid yet. He pointed at the other two horses and the chickens as Din carried him down the gravel drive with such a look of childlike wonder that you started to maybe, kind of sort of, consider the whole Spaceman and his alien story.
"And it occurred to me that that's the only outfit you have," you commented nonchalantly, trying to fill the tense silence. "I mean, aside from what you were wearing under your armor." The man's low hum was the only answer you received. "I'd let you borrow some more of my brother's clothes, but they wouldn't fit you." As much as the too-tight shirt was a real treat, the sweats weren't especially form-fitting and ended up looking more like highwaters when he wasn't wearing his boots. "I'll get you a couple of outfits while I'm out," you offered.
And if you made sure the shirts you picked out fit him a little snugly… then you were doing the Lord's work.
"I'll be fine," he gruffed out without looking at you.
"I insist," you encouraged, braving to lean in to nudge your shoulder into his arm, remembering how the action seemed to comfort him somewhat a few hours ago. "People around here get a little… standoffish about outsiders," you settled on. "I'm sure you can take care of yourself, but you're gonna get some strange looks walking around looking like you're from the Middle Ages. You might want some inconspicuous outfits for your travels." You smiled at the picture of your Spaceman walking around town in his armor and weapons… You'd give the gossips in town less than an hour before they called the Sheriff on him. "Besides, I've got to go to the store today anyway. It wouldn't be a big deal to get you a couple of things."
Din's brow furrowed, and he came to a stop at the steps to the wooden wrap-around porch. You waited for him to gather his thoughts, bracing yourself when he finally turned to give you a searching look. You tried to ignore his piercing gaze, but found it difficult not to get sucked into those distressed puppy dog eyes.
"Why are you helping me?" he questioned, staring you down with those rich, brown eyes.
"Because you need help," you shrugged.
"Just that easy?" came his skeptical challenge. "Everyone is standoffish about outsiders, but you're fine helping someone who pulled a blaster on you?"
You shrugged again. "You were hurt, and you needed help. I mean, if you didn't have Grogu, I woulda kicked you to the curb the second you drew your phaser on me," you teased, sharing a smile with Grogu. Din had the humility to appear embarrassed and even a little remorseful at your jab, and you leaned your shoulder into his arm again. "You were scared. I'm not sayin' it's okay, but I'm sayin' I understand. 'Sides, I know it's been a while since I've gone to church, but I'm pretty sure there is something in the bible about welcoming aliens, not mistreating them, and providing them with food and clothing," you shrugged again.
Din's brow furrowed at that. "I thought your people didn't have contact with visitors?"
You smirked at the man's confusion. "Aliens, meaning foreigners. It's a figure of speech. I'm just paraphrasing from what I remember from Sunday school classes. I may not be especially religious anymore, but I still abide by the Golden Rule."
"Golden Rule?" he sighed as if you were the one speaking gibberish.
"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," you quoted, giving him a comforting smile. "If our roles were reversed, and I ended up getting sucked up inside your spaceship, I'd hope that you would treat me the same way, even if I were terrified."
His intense gaze locked onto yours as he studied you, likely trying to assess if you were telling the truth. You let him. You had nothing to hide. You weren't lying. Part of the reason you became a nurse was to help people, so it'd make you just as hypocritical as most of your podunk town churchgoers, who just went to sit in a pew for show and not take in any of the lessons they were meant to learn.
The silence, combined with his intense scrutiny, slowly became too much, and you found yourself itching to lighten the mood.
"You don't know who Taylor Swift is, and you've never heard of the Golden Rule? Maybe you really are an alien," you chuckled.
He finally tore his gaze away from you at your half-assed attempt at levity and looked out at the miles of farmland surrounding you.
"Could I come with you?" he asked, looking out over the fields that would be harvested for corn and wheat in the coming months. "I just need to get my bearings, and maybe if you can show me around, I can… figure something out," he finished with a hopeless shrug.
"I really think you should try to get some rest."
"Dorothy," he pleaded, turning those brown puppy-dog eyes on you. "I don't know how long it will take to find our way back. If we're here for weeks or months, I want to avoid being a drain on your resources. I need to figure out how your world works."
"Sure," you caved. "But there's no rush. Even when Cassie and Rosie get back, there is still room," you offered with a kind smile that made your Spaceman shift uncomfortably. "Give me a chance to shower, and we can go. We'll have to take the bike again. The mechanic is coming out to take a look at the truck to see if it can be salvaged this afternoon, so I'll need to be back to meet him." As you finished, both of your eyes landed on the rusted-out pickup truck that had once been your dad's pride and joy. "But yeah," you continued with a shrug. "It will probably be good if you have some adult supervision. We can take the long way, and maybe we'll find something that looks familiar or jogs your memory."
Din appeared reluctant, but whether that was because he was reluctant to have you as his babysitter or because he doubted he would find anything remained to be seen.
Forty minutes later, you were coming down the stairs to head for the door, dressed in a pair of light-wash skinny jeans tucked into your old ankle-length riding boots and a comfortable navy blue shirt with "The End of the Road" written on it in faded yellow letters. It was one of the employee shirts worn at the bar Cassie managed. Someone who had one too many drinks spilled an entire pint down your shirt one night, and Cassie had snagged one of the extra shirts for you to wear and told you to keep it. It had a bit of a V-neck, but the material was so soft and comfortable that it became one of your go-to shirts for running errands.
When you reached the living room, you froze at the sight of your guests waiting patiently on the couch.
"Absolutely not."
Din instantly frowned at your greeting. "What?" he asked, looking genuinely confused.
You nodded at his outfit, hoping he'd get the idea that if the whole purpose was to get him clothes so he wouldn't stand out, then maybe going dressed in his coat of arms wasn't gonna fly. "You're not going dressed like that," you countered, and then frowned when you realized he was wearing his gun again. "And you're definitely not taking that with you."
"But -"
"No buts," you cut him off, shaking your head. "If you want to come, then you're gonna follow my rules, Spaceman. No armor. No weapons, even if they are part of your religion."
"I have to take my blaster," he argued as if it were another appendage and he'd die if he couldn't bring it. "What if we run into trouble?"
"I promise you, we won't be running into any kind of trouble that will require the use of deadly force today." The man glowered at your answer, but you weren't backing down. "My planet. My rules," you countered, crossing your arms over your chest. Din rose from the couch and copied your stance, trying to intimidate you into caving, but there was no way you were gonna let him tag along dressed like that. You shrugged. "Fine, then I'll just go on my own," you said, moving to grab your backpack and another bag to haul everything back in. "I think hot pink is really going to be your color."
Din's shoulders sagged before he asked defeatedly, "What am I supposed to wear?"
Twenty minutes later, you had eventually talked him out of his armor, but let him keep his tactical pants and boots, and had him back in the tight Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt. Granted, ten minutes of that argument were getting him to leave his phaser gun (blaster, he kept reminding you) behind on the top shelf of the closet in the room he had stayed in last night. However, after a very long twenty minutes of arguing and threatening to leave him behind, you prevailed as the victorious one.
Honestly, you were just happy to see that your argument had lit a spark back into Din's brown eyes. After your talk during the morning chores, you were becoming concerned that your Spaceman was shutting down. Lucky for you, he apparently found you just annoying enough that his fire hadn't been stamped out completely yet.
Admittedly, he probably would have been fine in the odd, long-sleeved shirt made of the same material as his pants. You could have passed the ensemble off as coveralls or something, but this looked slightly more like the vibes you were going for. It had nothing to do with you realizing you'd been so distracted by the armor and the utility belt that you hadn't noticed that his pants actually accentuated his ass quite nicely. It also had completely nothing to do with wanting to see his biceps straining against the shirt sleeves again…
The Lord's work, you reminded yourself with a smirk.
"I look ridiculous," he snarled as he inspected the wardrobe you'd dressed him in for your adventure.
"Trust me, you are actually going to look normal where we're going," you teased as you tossed him a spare backpack.
Din sighed as he grabbed Grogu from the couch, only to glare daggers at you when you cringed. "What now?" he seethed.
"I know he's like, your emotional support Foundling or whatever, and I know I joked about him coming, but we can't actually take him with us."
Your Spaceman's face hardened at your words. "Where I go, he goes," came his low, grave response.
People would absolutely call the Sheriff on you if they saw you with… whatever Grogu was. The creature may be cute, but you did not doubt that others would absolutely fall for the whole alien bit. One phone call, and you'd be locked down in your home with NASA or Area 51 standing guard while they reenact the ending to E.T.
At the very least, if Grogu stayed behind, you were avoiding a trip to Animal Control.
But… stranger things and people went to Walmart every day…
"I have an idea," you said, running up the stairs to raid the closet that now hid the man's weapon on the top shelf, but at the bottom were several of Rosie's old baby things that had been stored away.
Another twenty minutes later, with only mild objections from Din, you stood back and admired your work.
You managed to scrounge up Rosie's old baby harness carrier contraption, which you'd given to Cassie at her baby shower, along with a pair of six-to-eight-month-old-sized jeans overalls to put over the Bluey shirt. The legs were long enough to cover Grogu's squat feet and further conceal his distinctly nonhuman attributes.
"Voilà!" you announced proudly, beaming at your ingenuity.
Only, instead of one, you had two sets of the most unimpressed eyes glaring back at you.
"What?" you defended, motioning at your completed ensemble, which was a stroke of genius if you said so yourself.
Din was still dressed in the same outfit he had begrudgingly settled on twenty minutes ago, only now he had the black baby harness strapped to his chest, with Grogu tucked away in his overalls.
"See, now Grogu can come, and," you paused to fish out an old navy-blue sun hat from when Rosie was a baby, with a pair of her old baby sunglasses to complete the look. "We can stuff his ears inside the hat and put the sunglasses on before we go inside, and no one will know!" you finished, placing the sun hat on Grogu's head to drive your point home.
"You really think it's gonna be that big of a deal?" Din asked, smiling for the first time that day, when Grogu grabbed the hat and threw it to the ground.
"I really think it's a big deal," you agreed, snatching the hat from the floor to put in your backpack. "We don't go visit other planets, and aliens allegedly don't come and see us, so you tell me what you think will happen when the world sees you shopping with an adorable alien baby?"
"So you finally admit we're not from your planet?" Din tried with a slight quirk of his eyebrow.
"Whether or not I believe you, I'm sure someone at the store will, and I promise you, your embarrassment about your outfits will outweigh the potential repercussions. However, if you wanna risk it, by all means, go and change back into your armor. Just don't get upset with me when the Sheriff comes for you. I don't have the money to bail you out of jail, so you'll be on your own, buddy."
Din looked down at the tiny green creature strapped to his chest with a sigh. "Sorry, kid, but you heard Dorothy. Her planet, her rules," he said with a scratch between his ears.
"Sorry," you agreed with a shrug. "Trust me, it's for the best. Where we're going, you're gonna see enough weird shit. I don't want us to be the weird shit in question."
"Where are we going that has you so concerned about what we're wearing?"
"It's called being in public," came your flat reply. "Granted, where we're going, the dress code is a little… lax, but it's not lax enough for you to show up in your medieval armor set with your… Foundling," you settled on, avoiding the alien word again.
"Once again, where are we going?" he asked, and you could detect your Spaceman's annoyance creeping into his words again.
"Have you ever heard of Walmart?"
In an attempt to avoid (or limit) contact with anyone you knew, you bypassed your town's smaller Walmart and ended up at the Walmart Supercenter just off the highway in the next town over.
However, now that you were standing shoulder to shoulder with your Spaceman, staring at the enormous building with the familiar blue on the top third and the prominent WALMART signage visible from the highway, you were beginning to have second thoughts. You hadn't even made it out of the parking lot, and you were starting to wonder if the extra crowd was worth the extra mileage.
But it was too late now. You were already here, and you needed to get the shopping done and get back in time to meet the mechanic, Rick, back at the farm around two, when he had promised to stop by to see what could be done about your truck.
"Why do you look like you're about to head into a battle you know you're gonna lose?" Din asked from his spot beside you.
You pointed at the building looming in the distance. "I was hoping there wouldn't be quite so many people here on a weekday afternoon," you grumbled. Only you had forgotten that this was the end of spring break, which meant an influx of people who would normally be at school or work.
"I thought you were a Healer?"
"The Earth term is nurse," you corrected him. "And what does that have to do with anything?" When you turned to give him your attention, you quirked an eyebrow at the sight of the man still wearing the spare motorcycle helmet you'd dug out of the garage for him to ride. "You know, you don't have to wear that anymore now that we've made it to our destination?"
The man's head cocked to one side, almost as if he were confused. Then, when he realized that he was still wearing the motorcycle helmet, you simultaneously remembered your conversation from last night.
"No one is meant to see my face."
"Shit, I'm sorry," you apologized with a grimace. "I forgot that you don't go out in public without having your face covered."
Din took one look around the packed parking lot full of cars and people, and apparently determined that no one else was walking around, hiding their identity from the world. The man's scowl that you'd become familiar with was the first thing you saw as he slowly lifted the black helmet over his head, and you had to squint as the bright spring sun hit him square in the face.
"We'll try to be quick, and I promise you can put it back on the moment we check out," you offered with a friendly pat to his shoulder.
The man shifted uncomfortably as he turned his dark eyes on you. "So, Dorothy, why is a nurse so anxious about shopping?" he asked, apparently eager to change the subject.
"I'm not sure what one has to do with the other?"
"Just that people are your job," he reminded you, giving you a skeptical look as he took in the parking lot.
"Exactly," you sighed, squinting against the sun as you looked up at him. "But I'm not getting paid to deal with these particular people."
"C'mon," he scoffed. "It can't be that bad."
Ten minutes later, once the three of you had made it through the entrance and Din had gotten his first true Walmart experience, the scowl that returned to his face told you all you needed to know.
In true Walmart wild-card fashion, the three of you were immediately greeted by bright fluorescent lights illuminating the hordes of people milling through the aisles, and the sounds they made seemed to echo around you. A gaggle of children came careening around the corner, screaming and attacking each other with brightly colored foam pool noodles, only further authenticating the full Walmart experience. At the sound of a particularly shrill squeal, even Grogu burrowed into the baby carrier strapped to his keeper's chest until he was completely hidden from view.
"Told you," you grumbled under your breath as you pushed the shopping cart through the aisles, attempting to get your bearings.
It wasn't just the people who wore on your nerves. It was everything. It was the bright fluorescent lights, the noise, the displays, and the messy aisles left behind from being ransacked… Actually, now that you think about it, people were the majority of the problem.
You decided to tackle some toiletries first. Something other than your citrus-scented bath products for the man to use, and something safe for Grogu's wrinkled skin.
As you turned down the aisle that would take you toward the pharmacy area where the toiletries were kept, the two of you were gifted with the visual eyesore of a man hunched over to pick something up from the bottom shelf, with half of his excessively hairy asscrack on display because his camo print shorts slipped past the point of no return.
"Careful," you whispered to your Spaceman, who was still scowling as he walked beside you and the cart. "Your face will get stuck like that if you scowl for too long," you teased, bumping into his shoulder.
Din hardly acknowledged your words as you turned down the men's aisle. His eyes were taking in everything, clocking every passing person, head swiveling at the slightest sound, not focused on the task at all.
"Okay, got any preferences?" you tried, nodding to the wall of men's haircare and body wash products.
He finally pulled his attention away from the main aisle, only to jump when a young woman in cut-offs that left little to the imagination stormed past him. Her flip-flops clacked angrily as she screamed obscenities into her phone, all while dragging her screaming kid behind her.
You and Cassie always dreaded bringing Rosie to Walmart, but thankfully, Rosie was an angel and rarely gave the two of you too many problems. In public, anyway. Unfortunately, she was a sponge and had picked up on your and her mother's quick wit and colorful vocabulary. After the second time she was sent to the principal's office for swearing at teachers or classmates, you and Cassie had to lay out some ground rules about what was okay to say at home versus at school. So far, that seemed to be doing the trick.
With a shake of your head, you forced yourself from your memory of Cassie explaining to her daughter that "Yes, Caleb hogging all of the colored pencils was a shitty thing to do, but you're seven, you can't say the word shitty." Rosie's quick response, "Well, that's stupid," still brought a smile to your face. Especially when, after her mother agreed with her but told her that was just the way it had to be, Rosie informed her that her teacher also considered "stupid" a bad word. "Since when is stupid a bad word?" Cassie had asked you, but neither she nor her daughter was impressed when you reminded them that Rosie was seven. They both just shared a look before simultaneously saying, "That is stupid."
You were still smiling when you realized that your Spaceman had gone from scowling to looking borderline overwhelmed.
"Hey," you murmured, reaching out to rub his bicep, surprised when your Spaceman actually leaned into your touch as he returned his attention to you. "Just try and tune it out. It's gonna be like that the entire time." When Din's face paled slightly, you gave his bicep a reassuring squeeze. "We'll be quick. Let's get you some stuff and maybe something quick for dinner, and we can go." At his nervous nod, you pointed to the products once again. "What do you normally use when you're on your spaceship?" you asked, trying to pull him back into the usual banter the two of you had developed.
Din bypassed the fact that you were even willing to entertain the idea that he had a spaceship. "Um, I just have a sonic cleaner on the Crest," he murmured. "Sometimes I use chem wipes if I'm on a hunt for too long without access to a shower."
"You have a sonic shower? Like on Star Trek?" you asked, unable to hide your amused smile. However, when the man's anxious eyes flicked to you, you decided that now might not be the time to delve into how many similarities there were between his "Spaceman" life and Star Trek. "Okay, so I'm just gonna take a stab in the dark and guess you're not picky?" When Din answered with a quick shake of his head, you nodded. "Alright, well, all I have is a shower, so let's find you something to wash with other than my citrus shampoo," you started, turning your attention back to the shelf.
Something quick and easy… The Dial men's 3-in-1 seemed like a good choice, but when you grabbed it from the shelf to flick the cap open, your nose scrunched at the smell. Din watched you methodically pick your way through the options before you finally settled on what you dubbed the winner.
"One bottle takes care of your hair, face, and body," you explained as you handed him the black bottle of Nivea Men's Active Clean 3-in-1. "And the smell is nice, but not too overpowering." When you nodded at him to smell, he seemed pleasantly surprised. "Vanilla bourbon, allegedly," you said, taking the bottle back to toss in your shopping cart. "Okay, let's see, what else…"
Your Spaceman followed you up and down the narrow aisles as you kept grabbing supplies for him and Grogu. A tear-free kid's body wash that had a bit of a fruity scent for the green creature, Old Spice deodorant, lotion, a beard trimmer-electric razor combination tool so he could keep that mustache of his groomed, and whatever else happened to catch your attention. Din watched silently as he walked beside you, watching you pick through options.
Any time there was a loud noise or someone paged over the intercom, you noticed the man inching a little closer to you, but you carried on, pretending everything was fine. Grogu popped out of his hiding briefly to stare at the TVs on display in the electronics aisle, watching the brightly colored movie clips or animal documentaries with wide eyes. Din remained silent while you opted to take the easy route and grab a bag of Pizza Rolls from the freezer section for dinner to expedite your trip.
Only when you happened to walk past a police officer with a Glock strapped to his waist, Din turned angry eyes to you to argue, "He got to bring his weapon." Not that you wanted your Spaceman to be overwhelmed, but needless to say, you were thankful for another distraction in the form of teenagers knocking down a DVD display. You gave the officer a nervous smile and encouraged Din to walk faster beside you as you headed toward the clothing section. However, you regretted thinking that when he went silent again and went back to looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here.
Same, Din. Same.
Maybe Walmart was too ambitious an excursion for your first outing with your Spaceman. You could only imagine if your roles were reversed, and you were the one from another planet, only for someone to take you to one of the most overstimulating places in the entire world. So, you did your best to stay calm and relaxed, giving him friendly smiles while you talked your way through everything, not expecting a response from him.
But it wasn't just the man's anxiety, or how he became overwhelmed the second you walked in, that you noticed; there were other, little things that you found curious. Including the fact that even though Din could speak English - or what he referred to as Galactic Basic, and the written numbers of both your languages were similar enough, the actual words themselves were still a complete mystery to him. Any time you pointed out a specific product or told him you were headed toward the sign that read "Men's Clothing," he just looked lost until he turned to you for help. Which would explain why he continued to call you Dorothy, even though he held your credit cards, with your name plastered on them, in his hands last night.
By the time you reached the men's clothing section, you realized your Spaceman was struggling.
No, not struggling. The man had passed struggling two exits back on the highway. He was in trouble.
When you stopped in front of the jeans, you were about to ask him what size he thought he was when you caught the man's body language. Just like last night, his tanned skin had turned sallow, there was a misty line of sweat that clung to the man's hairline, and the biggest indicator that Din's anxiety had spiraled into a full-blown panic attack was that his dilated pupils were no longer on you and were back to clocking every person and noise in your vicinity.
"Hey," you murmured, not wanting others nearby to overhear your conversation. "You don't look so good. We don't have to keep going -"
"I'm fine," he ground out, baring his teeth slightly as a group of four rowdy teenagers barreled through the clothing department, pushing their friends in metal shopping carts as they raced one another through the racks of clothes.
At your gentle touch, he flinched, then relaxed as you stroked his forearm. You frowned at the clammy skin under your palm. The man was practically vibrating, and his emotional-support Furby was still hidden inside the harness strapped to his chest.
Your eyes started searching for a quiet place you could take him to ride out the worst of it. The restrooms were at the very back of the store, and, basically, from your current location in the dead center of the mass supercenter, it would be just as easy to make a run for it outside and leave your shopping cart behind.
Right as you were about to throw in the towel and call it the end of your adventure, saving your Spaceman from another complete meltdown, a new sign caught your attention, bringing relief with its words.
Fitting Rooms
"C'mon," you murmured again, but when the man's head appeared to be anywhere but here, you grabbed onto his hand.
A flash of recognition broke through Din's panic when your hand gripped his, and his large hand returned the grip in a death grip of his own.
You led him by the hand, tugging him to stop him when he tried to grab the shopping cart. "Leave it," you ordered before dragging him along to follow you the rest of the way.
Thankfully, no one gave you a second glance as you wove through the clothes until you reached the men's side of the fitting rooms.
There was a short line of customers waiting for their turn, along with a bored-looking teenage girl with black hair and bright pink highlights framing her face, wearing her blue employee vest as she manned the small table and return rack. When someone exited the fitting room closest to you, you gripped Din's hand tighter as you pulled him along, bypassing the line of four to take the open room.
A chorus of "Heys" and "Not fairs" called from behind you, but you paid them no attention.
Once you had Din shoved inside the tiny stall, you poked your head out the door toward the teenage employee. "We just need a sec," you told her, smiling as she nodded back.
"Hey," a disgruntled patron called before you had a chance to close the stall door. Before you could blink, you snarled when the man grabbed your wrist. "I've been waiting for five minutes! I'm not giving up my spot just so you can have a quickie -"
No sooner had the man's sexual accusation left his mouth than he was cut off by a large hand shooting out from behind you to grab his throat. You gasped in surprise as the disgruntled patron coughed because your Spaceman was fucking choking him.
"Let. Her. Go." Din's dark command was so quiet that only the three of you could hear. Even though the man Din was currently choking couldn't talk, judging by the look of sheer terror on the stranger's face, you knew he got the gist.
"Hey," you whispered, showing Din that the angry man had released your wrist. "It's okay. Let him go."
Din's snarl was the only sign that he heard you, but when he finally released the stranger, you shoved your Spaceman back into the stall before turning your fury back on the man who thought he could touch you.
"I-I'm s-sorry," he stuttered.
"I don't care," you seethed. "Now, unless you want me to release him," you paused to hook your thumb back at your Spaceman, who was frantically pacing the stall, "out into the store -"
"N-No, ma'am," he said, shaking his head almost comically.
"Then I need you to back the fuck up, and give us a minute," you growled. "And if you, or anyone else, gives us any shit, you're gonna get my foot up your ass. Got it?"
The six or seven men in the vicinity gave you quick nods of understanding while the teenage girl smirked at them from behind her table.
With one last snarl at the other customers, you slammed the stall door closed behind you. The sound the metal slide lock made when you locked yourself in with the strange man you'd essentially known for a day reverberated louder inside your mind than it probably did in reality.
The small changing stall was cramped and unimpressive. The whole space was maybe four feet by four feet, with a booth on the wall opposite the door and a small mirror to your right. Not quite enough space for your frantic Spaceman to pace, but that didn't stop him from trying.
"You're a Spaceman bounty hunter, surely you have encountered scarier places than Walmart," you tried, but your Spaceman continued pacing as if he didn't hear you. "C'mon, talk to me -"
"Something's wrong," he growled, baring his teeth.
"I can see that," you said, nodding, keeping your voice calm and your posture as non-threatening as possible while you gave him time to work through his emotions. "Talk to me," you encouraged him.
"Something is wrong with me," he seethed.
"Okay, break it down by pieces that make sense to you -"
"They can all see me," he snarled as he spun on the ball of his boot to head toward the other wall. "And everyone looks the same!"
It was your turn to let out a begrudging sigh at his commentary, but you nodded in agreement as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I mean, I know there are a lot of white people, you're in rural America, it's basically unavoidable, but we've got little communities of people from all over sprinkled around. Also, the Rez is right around the corner, too."
"I'm not talking about skin color," he spat. "I'm talking about species. You're all the same!"
Your mind had to buffer at that comment, and at risk of sounding like an idiot, you replied with, "Well… Yeeaaahhh?"
"That's not normal!" he exploded, latching onto his hair to tug his head, pulling the messy locks in all different directions.
Din let loose after that, and the only thing you could do was stand there, dumbly, and let him rant.
You didn't even realize what he picked up on or overheard during your shopping excursion. You'd been so focused on talking through the shopping choices that you had completely tuned out your surroundings. Din, however, heard it all. Heard a group of high school girls talking about how they were going to force another girl off the cheer squad because her skin color detracted from the aesthetic. Heard two employees talking about how one of their coworkers was passed over for a promotion because she was pregnant. Heard two Boomers, who you caught giving Din a dirty look as they passed, complaining about how many Mexicans were coming in illegally and taking the decent women away from 'Mericans.
You stood there in the changing stall, gobsmacked by the little things he picked up that you had completely tuned out.
"Why were they even looking at me when they said that? I didn't even look at them until they glared at me! What is a Mexican, and how is that different from a Merican?" he ranted, and you cringed when he tugged harder on his hair. "Your people are so primitive that you haven't made it farther than your own moon! And I'm not surprised after seeing how your people act!"
"I'm not sure that the people of Walmart are who you should judge the entire planet on -"
"I certainly hope not, because at this point, if this is the best you've got, I don't know how we're going to make it off this hellhole!"
Oh. That's what his freakout is about. Not only was he dumped in the armpit of the country, but you also had to go and make matters worse by taking him to fucking Walmart. This was Din's less fun version of your jet pack ride last night. A glimpse into the world he'd been dumped in, only to find that it was not as advanced or open-minded as wherever he was from, which, granted, didn't take much, but you could understand his panic now.
You put yourself in his shoes. Hypothetically speaking… A tornado somehow picks you up from Tython (wherever that is), and you end up across the galaxy, in the redneck capital of the world. You lose your helmet and your religion because of it. Nothing is familiar. The place you were dumped in has no space travel, which probably also means there's no technology even to send a message for help. This would all be overwhelming enough on its own, but then to complicate matters, you have a very alien-looking creature in your protection that you've sworn to protect…
"Hey," you began, stepping in front of him and reaching out with both hands to grab his biceps, stopping his frantic pacing. You kept your grip light and stroked the soft skin of his inner biceps with your thumbs as you spoke. "Din, you're having another panic attack -"
He scoffed and tried to remove himself from your grasp, but you held firm.
"Listen, the things you heard were not okay, and please believe me when I tell you that not everyone on this planet, or even in this state, thinks like that." At the man's scoff, you smiled at him. "Consider yourself lucky, buddy. Of all the pickups you could have landed on, you landed on mine, and I don't tolerate that kind of stuff on my farm. Neither does Cassie. Hell, half of the people in my miserable town are convinced Cassie and I are in a secret lesbian relationship. We take great delight in playing into that to make those people as uncomfortable as possible," you told him with a wink.
Din scrunched his nose at that and adorably asked, "Why would people be uncomfortable because you're in a relationship with a woman?"
"Oh, Spaceman," you tutted with a smile. "You're so sweet and innocent," you teased, earning you another scowl. "There's that scowl," you cheered, rubbing his arms. "Now, I want you to look at Grogu," you instructed as you unlatched the carrier's plastic pieces strapped to the man's chest, pulling the green creature out so he could see that his ward was healthy and safe. "Look at that adorable face," you continued, smiling when he took Grogu from you.
Grogu was a natural. The little tyke stretched his stubby arms toward Din's face, and Din pulled the creature in close enough for Grogu to try to wrap the man in a hug.
"You're exhausted, you're in an overwhelming place -" As if on cue, the loud overhead speaker sounded, making Din jolt and clutch Grogu to his chest. "If you want to leave right now, say the word, and we will leave," you told him, tentatively reaching for one of his hands. To your surprise, the man instinctively shifted so he could thread his large fingers between yours, latching onto your offer to be his ground wire. "But now that you've gotten a glimpse of how people react to people who don't look like what they consider normal," you snarled, rolling your eyes, hoping to show Din that you weren't one of those people. "If you can handle it, I say we try to finish the shopping and get you a couple of outfits to help you blend in."
"I'm sorry," he apologized, turning his brown puppy-dog eyes to you. "I don't normally… I'm usually better at controlling my emotions than this."
"Don't apologize," came your quick response, and you gave him a reassuring smile. "I haven't been in exactly your shoes, but…" You closed your eyes, debating what, or how much, of your past to tell him. "But I was in a really terrible accident right before I graduated high school, and when I was finally well enough to be out in public again, I also used to get panic attacks." You smiled when Din gave your hand a little reassuring squeeze upon your admission. "They happen. We need to limit some triggers until we get out of here. Okay?"
His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "You don't understand," he whispered. "I don't do this," he growled. You frowned at his words, but continued to hold his hand while he spoke. "I can't explain it, but ever since we arrived, everything feels off. I don't have karking panic attacks. It's like my body is screaming at me."
"How so?" you asked, growing concerned that you'd missed something significant during your cursory exam.
"It's everything," he rasped. "The sun feels different, the wind feels different," Din began, pausing to find the words to describe how he felt. "It's like I can hear my blood flowing through my body. The pounding in my head has gotten worse the longer we're here, and the lights are too bright. It almost feels like I can feel the planet spinning, and it makes me nauseous… Dorothy, I don't think we're meant to be here," he finished, and you felt tears brim at the guttural devastation in the man's voice.
"Okay," you breathed out nervously. "I want you to take a deep breath through your nose with me," you said, pulling an exaggerated breath through your nose, and you felt relieved when Din closed his eyes and did as you instructed. "Now out through your mouth," you continued, letting all of the air out of your lungs in a slow, concise stream. "Everything is gonna be okay," you reassured him as he exhaled. "Let's just grab some clothes and go. When we get back home, I am gonna do another exam on you to make sure I don't need to take you to the hospital." Your Spaceman opened his mouth to argue, but at your pointed, challenging look, he closed his mouth and nodded in begrudging agreement.
At the same time, Din nodded as a soft knock sounded from the other side of the door.
"Hands to yourself," you whispered, but your Spaceman just gripped your hand tighter while he tucked Grogu back inside the harness to hide him from view.
When you cracked the stall door open, you were greeted with a soft smile from the teen with hot pink highlights.
"I just wanted to check in and see if you needed anything?" the girl asked, keeping a respectful distance, but close enough that other shoppers couldn't hear your conversation.
"Oh, you're so sweet," you told her, relaxing against the door. "I'm sorry, but he just needed a moment."
The girl just nodded and smiled. "Don't worry about it," she brushed you off. "My daddy has problems in packed places since he came back from the war," she explained. "I told security everything was fine, and that other guy was being an ass."
"I don't know you, but I could hug you right now," you sighed, and shared a smile with the teen. "Hey, actually, do you happen to have some measuring tape back there? We were getting ready to pick some jeans out, and I'm not sure of his measurements."
The girl nodded and walked back to her desk. After a moment of rummaging through a drawer, she came back with a soft tape measure.
"Thank you," you replied as you took the tape from her. "This saves us from extra trips to try things on."
"Glad I could help," the girl beamed back. "I can also talk to the manager and see if they'll let me open up a register to check you guys out, so you don't have to wait when you're ready. He's a veteran, too; he gets it. Just come find me when y'all are ready," she said, giving you a little wave before she returned to her desk to continue folding clothes before you could say anything else.
"See," you murmured as you closed and latched the stall door behind you. "Not everyone here is awful."
Din just gripped your hand.
When you had to explain that you needed both hands to take his measurements, he reluctantly let go of yours.
You made quick work of his measurements, typing out notes of the numbers in your phone as you went.
Once you were done, you went to your backpack and dug around in the front pocket until your fingers found the smooth AirPods case and pulled it out to show him.
"I want you to wear these until we get back to the bike," you told him. You took the small earbuds out of their charging case and passed them to your Spaceman, who gave them a skeptical look. "There is a noise-canceling feature to help block out the extra sounds. I can also play some music for you if you want something extra to help drown everything out. That helps me sometimes."
After a couple of seconds, Din finally got the small AirPods situated, and you gave him a quick tutorial on how to turn the noise-canceling feature off and on.
"When we go back out there, if you start to get overwhelmed, even with the earbuds, I want your focus on Grogu or me. I'll pick out some clothes, and if I want your input on something, I'll squeeze your hand three times." At Din's nod, you asked, "Ready?"
You scrolled through some options on your phone while Din put the earbuds in, and you ended up settling on The National, setting the volume to low. When you gave Din a thumbs-up, then a thumbs-down, he responded with a thumbs-up.
With Grogu secured in the carrying harness and Din's hand in yours, the three of you exited the small changing stall. You stopped to give the teen another thankful smile and slipped her a twenty along with her measuring tape before you led your Spaceman back out into the men's department.
You found your cart where you left it, in front of the jeans display, and were relieved to see no one had taken any of the items you'd already picked out.
Taking a deep breath, you scanned the jeans, found his size, and selected two pairs of straight-cut Levi's, one in the standard dark denim and the other in a slightly lighter wash. Next, you found the shirts and grabbed two packs of Hanes shirts, one white and one black.
There was only one awkward moment when you stood in front of the selection of men's underwear, and you resorted to squeezing Din's hand for his input. The man pulled his gaze from you to the options before you, and you had to scold yourself for the embarrassed blush that crept on your cheeks when he selected a package of black boxer briefs. You grabbed a second pack in a variety of colors and tossed both into the cart.
Another five minutes later, you had your cart loaded with everything he needed, including a black button-up shirt, a red flannel shirt, a pair of blue flannel pajama bottoms, two packs of thick work socks, and the most expensive purchase: a sturdy pair of ankle-high, dark brown, waterproof work boots. Who knew where the road would take him, and those seemed worth the extra price over a pair of tennis shoes that would fall apart on him in case he ended up hiking to NASA headquarters.
Din hovered close behind you as you started emptying your haul from the cart onto the conveyor belt, while the young punk-rock girl from the fitting rooms logged into the computer to check you out. You ignored the dirty looks from the other customers, at least until you made eye contact with the guy who grabbed your wrist in the next lane over. You snarled at the man and snapped your teeth like a rabid dog in his direction, making him look anywhere but at you. The teenager giggled from behind her computer screen, and you smiled as Din's hand gave yours a thankful squeeze.
When you felt Din's palm growing sweaty against yours again, you looked at him to see what was wrong, but saw his eyes on the screen that was displaying the slowly growing dollar amount as each piece was scanned. You wanted to kick yourself. Of course, the one thing he could read was how much this impromptu shopping spree was costing you. You squeezed his hand, and once you had his attention again, you shook your head, pointed at yourself, then at Grogu. With a sigh, Din dropped to look at the kid hiding in the carrier.
You weren't worried about the money. Well, you were, but that's what credit cards were for, and the total wasn't nearly as bad as some of the shopping excursions you, Cassie, and Rosie took whenever someone needed a pick-me-up. You were more concerned about whether your haul would fit in both of your backpacks.
Thankfully, you and Din were able to strategically fold, roll, and tuck the clothes, not in packages, all into one backpack, and put the toiletries and the packs of socks and underwear that didn't fit into Din's backpack into yours. For the shoes, you tossed the box into the trash and ended up tying the work boots to your backpack with their laces.
When the two of you walked out of the store hand in hand, you were surprised that Din didn't immediately put his helmet back on, but seemed content to at least make it to your bike.
"Thank you, Dorothy," the man's baritone voice rumbled as he removed your AirPods and studied them in the large palm of his hand.
"No problem, Spaceman," came your easy-going response as you got your backpack situated.
"They connect to your comm?" he asked, and at your blank stare, he pointed to the iPhone in your hand.
"Oh, yeah," you nodded. "Bluetooth."
He quirked an eyebrow at the term Bluetooth, but bypassed it to ask, "Does it read off messages? Or was that part of the music?"
"No, it can read you -" Oh no. You forgot that they would read your incoming texts to you. "Wait, why?"
The man grinned with your AirPods in his palm. "You got a message from your friend, Cassie."
Oh…
Oh no.
Lord only knows what she texted you. You didn't even feel your phone vibrate.
"She wanted to know on a scale of one to ten, eggplants, how your night went with the… I think she called it, sexy weirdo?" he relayed, unable to hide the smirk trying to form on his face.
"Give me those," you grumbled, snatching the tiny earbuds from his palm and shoving them back into their case.
When you put the AirPods away and grabbed the bike keys, you caught your Spaceman still smirking at you.
"Shut up," you groaned, giving his chest a weak shove before putting your helmet back on, hoping you got it on in time to hide your flaming red cheeks.
"What's an eggplant?"
While the man seemed innocently in the dark about that particular emoji's other purpose, you decided it was best to play dumb.
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you," you yelled, pointing to the side of your helmet where your ear was, as you started the bike up.
Hopefully, by the time you got home, your Spaceman would find something else to fixate on.
You watched out of the corner of your eye as Din did one last check of his backpack and Grogu's harness before sliding into the passenger seat behind you.
And when your Spaceman gently tapped his helmet against the back of yours, silently giving you the okay to go, you told yourself that the flutter in your chest was from the adrenaline of surviving your trip to Walmart, and not because of the sexy weirdo straddling the motorcycle behind you.
🌪️ A/N: Chapter Warnings: Panic attacks and bigots.
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
1. First and foremost, I am not saying that every rural town is the "armpit of America" or is full of backwater bigots. There are good and bad people everywhere. But what I will say is that I, my stories, my Tumblr, etc., are a bigot-free zone. To quote 'Dorothy', "Of all the pickups you could have landed on, you landed on mine, and I don't tolerate that kind of stuff on my farm." So, here on Ranch Stardust, if you spew hate, you will be blocked, reported, and you best hope we never meet in irl 😇
2. I am not a Walmart fan. I've always found it overstimulating, even as a kid, but it is sometimes a necessary evil that cannot be avoided. One of my first trips to a real Walmart was with my grandparents when we had to drive half an hour from their farm to get to the closest town, and I never understood why they wouldn't just leave their five-year-old granddaughter with the cows and horses while they went and did the shopping 🤪
3. THANK YOU SO MUCH! It is mindboggling how much y'all are loving this little AU, but I am eating it up! Every kudo, and especially all of those super thoughtful comments (swoon), reblogs, all of it, really make little redneck Stardust's day. Seriously, y'all are the best ✨
🧡 Tag List: @racheldon @leeroyjagginz @djarins-cyare @higgsvoidout @abandonedreaper @brunlocc
Please drop a comment or send me a message if you'd like to be added to the tag list 🧡
Country Roads Masterlist
Next chapter in series - Chapter 7: Spacemen, Mechanics, and Robots (oh my)
🌪️Chapter Summary: Din Djarin finds three things on Earth he tolerates.
🌪️Pairings: Fem!Earthling!Reader x Din Djarin
🌪️Word Count: 9.7k
AO3 Link to Ch 5
Chapter 5: Losing My Religion
"Grogu?"
The kid looked up from the shiny, metal gear ball he'd become obsessed with at the sound of his name and cooed.
Din couldn't help but chuckle. After a little over a year, he finally had something to call the kid other than, well, kid. He had a name. They had found a Jedi, and hopefully, after today, they would have a lead on another one.
But until then…
"Give me the ball."
The kid looked back and forth between him and the gear ball. Din had become familiar with the kid's expressions over the last year. Which blink meant he was sleepy. The face he made right before he was about to do something onery. The kid was a bottomless pit, so all faces generally meant he was hungry, but he had learned that he became extra fussy when he was tired or hungry.
When the kid's bug eyes looked back at him and clutched the ball closer to his chest with a borderline growl, Din knew the kid thought he was going to take his toy away. "Grogu, give me the ball. Come on," he encouraged, reaching to grab the tiny silver ball from his tiny hands.
After a couple of attempts to pry it from his grasp, the kid reluctantly let Din take the ball.
They'd done this a handful of times since they parted ways with the Jedi Ahsoka, and each time, Din became increasingly impressed by the kid's powers.
"Okay, here we go," Din murmured, holding the ball out between his thumb and index finger for the kid to bring back to his hand. The kid cooed and reached for it, but Din shook his head. "You can have it, just like before." The kid grunted and whined, but they'd been practicing, and he wasn't going to let Grogu take the easy way out. "Grogu, come on," he cheered him on again. "You can have it. Come on."
The kid strained and struggled while Din held his breath. The slightest movement came from the ball, followed by another twitch before the tiny ball shot out from between his fingers and back into the kid's grasp.
"Dank farrik!" Din muttered, shaking his head in awe of the tiny womp rat, only to feel guilty when the kid's ears lowered as if he had done something wrong. "Hey, no. I'm not mad at you. You did good," he praised, smiling when the kid perked back up. "I just… When the nice lady said you had training, I just…"
I came to the realization that it wasn't in the cards for you to be my Foundling.
But instead of saying that, Din sighed and settled on, "You're very special, kid. We're gonna find that special place you belong, and they're gonna take real good care of you."
Because it's the right thing to do.
Or so Din Djarin thought at the time.
However, a little over twenty-four hours later, he was having second thoughts, because had he accepted the child as his, they wouldn't have ended up on Tython, surrounded by Imperials and death droids. They would be somewhere else in the galaxy, lying low, taking jobs, and finding a place to call home. Most importantly, they wouldn't be stuck here.
Wherever here was.
Din stared at the green, wrinkled toddler, sleeping soundly beside him, oblivious to the strange, backwater, primitive place they'd mysteriously found themselves in. Oblivious to the sound the branches of the large tree beside the bedroom made when they scratched against the glass windowpane if the wind blew just right. The kid was blissfully unaware of the extra ticking noise the ceiling fan made because it was off-balance. Most importantly, the kid was asleep.
Whereas Din Djarin was not, and not for lack of trying. He'd been lying on this mattress, staring at the ceiling for hours, and couldn't force his mind to stop replaying the last day long enough to get some rest. Anytime he tried, or felt himself on the verge of sleep, a tree branch would scratch the window, or the ceiling fan would start ticking and rocking, or the house would creak or groan for seemingly no apparent reason. And if it wasn't the strange home he found himself in keeping him up with its sounds, it was having flashbacks of those last few moments on Tython before everything went sideways every time he closed his eyes.
The longer he thought about Tython, the angrier he got when he couldn't remember anything. Maybe Dorothy was right, and he had a concussion. Although in his line of work, his bell had been rung more than a couple of times, and he very rarely experienced any memory loss, so maybe he wasn't concussed. He wasn't sure what it was going to take to convince you that he wasn't insane or escaped from a mental institution, but if he could just remember how they got here, maybe he could convince you he was telling the truth.
He could remember being confronted by Boba Fett and learning that Fennec Shand was alive. Then the Imps came, and with them, brought four lethal battle droids (Death Troopers, he thought Shand had called them). The kid was still communing on his rock pedestal, protected by the force field… and that was where Din's memory began to grow a little hazy. He had been trying to get the kid's attention by banging on the glowing blue force field surrounding him when the first Death Trooper landed. Din remembered how on his third attempt to get Grogu's attention, the strange force field surrounding him allowed Din to slip through… And after that… he couldn't remember.
And if he couldn't remember the exact set of circumstances that brought them here, to Earth… then how the hell was he supposed to figure out how to get them back?
There was something about this strange place, Earth, that he couldn't quite put his finger on. There was something about this planet and the circumstances that led them here that just felt wrong. Like there was something deep inside him telling him he wasn't meant to be here. He'd traveled a lot in his life, and he couldn't explain the strange sensations he was having. The low, rolling undercurrent of nausea, being able to feel his blood pumping through his veins, how his lungs felt like sandpaper with each breath… even the sun felt different against his face… It was as if his body knew they weren't supposed to be here.
Din rubbed his hands over his face at the thought. It wasn't often that he got to experience the sun against his face these days. Before the kid, there would be breaks when he was alone and felt comfortable removing his helmet on whatever planet he was on at the time, but even those moments were few and far between. Since the kid, those chances were fewer and farther between. In fact, he was reasonably certain that this was the longest stretch he'd gone without wearing his helmet since he took the Creed.
The rolling nausea in his gut turned into a pang of longing and despair at the thought.
His hands dropped to the mattress, and he went back to staring at the ceiling. Maker, he couldn't remember the last time anyone saw his face. It'd been thirty years since the Mandalorians rescued him from Aq Vetina, and it took him another two years before he accepted the Creed. And now… Now, strangers had seen him without it. You had seen him without it. But it was more than that… More than losing his Creed.
That helmet had been a gift from his sponsor after he graduated from the Fighting Corps. His sponsor, Rowan, was a kind-hearted man who had lost his family and then, five years later, rescued a small, terrified seven-year-old from the droid attack on a backwater skughole. Rowan took Din under his wing and gave him a roof over his head. Taught him Mando'a. Taught him how to fight. Taught him what it meant to be a Mandalorian. Stood by his side as he took the Creed and received his first training helmet, and was still by his side when Din turned seventeen and graduated from the Fighting Corps. He hadn't expected anything from the man when he graduated, so when Rowan presented him with a gift, Din was beyond flattered. Flattery quickly turned to shock and deep gratitude upon learning that Rowan had used the last of his beskar to have the Armorer forge Din's first adult helmet.
Twenty karking years…
That helmet had been his prized possession for twenty years… Din had never painted it, never marked it, left it as the clean, sleek, shining beskar he'd been given to remind him of the man who had saved him and given him a clean slate to restart his life after he lost everything. The thought of it being gone settled in his stomach like a lead weight. There was the shame he felt for losing his Creed, but the shame he felt at knowing he had lost something so precious from Rowan was like a dagger to his heart.
Din's eyes watched the ceiling fan spin over his head; the tick, tick, tick of the blades sounded like a war drum beating in his ears. Another gust of wind had the tree branches sounding as if someone were dragging nails down the durasteel hull of a ship. Even his own breath sounded too loud in his head. The shadows from the fan's blades mingled with those from the tree limb scratching at the window, making it look as if a creature were sticking its hands inside.
The tide swelled, and everything he was experiencing in that moment began to consume him. The pang in his chest for his lost Creed and helmet, the lead weight in his stomach adding to the low undercurrent of nausea, the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears… it was becoming too much. When it got to the point where it felt as if the walls were closing in around him, Din couldn't take it any longer. He'd kept it at bay for as long as he could, but the dam broke, and he felt the intense undercurrent of despair threatening to pull him under.
With one last glance at Grogu to ensure the child was still sleeping, he rolled out of bed.
His body swayed, and his vision blurred as he rose, making the throbbing in his head that much worse, but he didn't let that stop him. He couldn't let that stop him. He needed air. He needed space. He needed someplace where the shadows and walls weren't threatening to pull him under.
One foot in front of the other, Din slowly shuffled closer to the door until he was in the hallway, but there still wasn't enough air. He kept going, but his chest continued to constrict with every step he took. Every creak, pop, or strange sound the house let out made his heart slam against his chest, forcing him to stop to look to see if he was being followed, expecting to see someone emerge from the shadows to come for him, but the hallway, the staircase, the common spaces on the ground floor were all vacant.
Din hadn't realized his feet had taken him outside until the flimsy screen door closed behind him with a resounding snap.
The sharp noise was the final snap of his frayed tether, breaking him free and leaving him unmoored and gasping for air.
Wide-eyed, Din clutched his chest, concerned that he was somehow experiencing a delayed injury from his fall. Surely he had a collapsed lung, or his chest was filling with his own blood, because there was nothing else that could explain his struggle for each breath.
This was it. He was going to die here on this planet. He was going to die without his helm, wearing clothes that weren't his. He was going to die and leave Grogu alone and unprotected…
The thought was enough to blur his vision with tears.
He couldn't let that happen. He'd taken a vow to protect the child and reunite him with the Jedi. He'd already lost his helmet and broken his Creed. He wouldn't let himself break his vow to help the kid get to his people.
He needed to find you.
You would know what to do. You were a healer and had already patched him up once; surely, there was something in your med pack that could relieve this pain in his chest and allow him to breathe.
"Hey, look at me."
Din's eyes snapped open at your words, and he would have let out a breath of relief to see you swimming in his vision if only he could breathe.
"You're having a panic attack." Din shook his head, but your hands reached for his, which were clutching the shirt at his chest, and gently tugged them away as you gave him a calm, assured nod. "It's okay," you murmured, squeezing his hands. "I want you to look at me and breathe with me, okay? In," you instructed, taking a slow, overdramatic breath in.
"Dorothy," he managed to choke out, trying to tell you that this wasn't a karking panic attack. What kind of healer were you? Surely, you could tell this was more serious than that. He was clearly dying.
"Out," you carried on, oblivious to his distressed pleas. "I'm here with you," you continued in a hushed, calm, reassuring voice. "This is gonna pass, but I need you to try and take a breath. In. You're okay, Din. You're safe. Grogu is okay. Grogu is safe."
Din stared into your eyes at the softly spoken order, but there was an undercurrent of assured, composed confidence in your words that he gravitated toward.
You were here. Grogu was safe. He would make it past this with your help.
Suddenly, there was a break in the turbid waves threatening to drag him under when he felt your hands grip him more tightly as he watched your chest inflate. He gripped your hands back, clinging to you like a lifeline, even when he felt your grip on his hands ease as your chest deflated. Din closed his eyes and clenched his jaw when his body wouldn't cooperate.
Your hands began tightening again, signaling another inhale, but Din couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything. "Look at me." Your voice cut through the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, and his watery gaze landed on your figure standing before him. The world seemed to halo around you, blurring the moonlight and landscape, but he could slowly begin to focus on you. "Good," you praised, giving him a soft smile. "You're doing so good," your praises continued, and he clutched your hands tightly. "Relax, and let your shoulders sag with you as you exhale." Din gave a stiff nod as he tried to mirror you. "Now, back in, standing up tall as your chest fills," you instructed, your body straightening, and your shoulders squaring.
His head breached the waves, and he sucked in his first, shaky breath along with you. Your eyes shone in the moonlight as a smile erupted across your face.
Slowly, each breath became easier, and with each breath, the stormy waves that had just threatened to drown him slowed until he was floating in calm waters.
"There's my Spaceman," came your quiet greeting; your smile was tender but no less sincere as he slowly began to focus on you.
Din let out a weak chuff at your words, thankful that it no longer felt like daggers stabbing him in the chest with every breath. He ducked his head, embarrassed that you had to see him like that, and saw that the two of you were still holding hands in the middle of the gravel road in front of your home. With one final shaky exhale, the rest of his senses returned at once. On his next inhale, it felt as if a veil he hadn't realized was covering him had been lifted, allowing him to see the world around him in clear, crisp color. Suddenly, he could feel the cool night air against his sweat-soaked forehead, could feel the cold rocks digging into his bare feet, could feel your soft hands giving him one final squeeze before you eased your grip and released him completely.
Din stared at his empty hands as mortification flooded him. He was so sure he was dying…
"Don't be embarrassed." Din's eyes flicked back up to look at you, but his embarrassment had already set in. "Seriously, panic attacks happen to the best of us," you continued with a shrug.
A panic attack. Of all the things…
"C'mon, let's go inside," you encouraged, nodding toward the wooden porch steps a few paces away.
"You go," he gruffed, clearing his throat slightly to get the words out. "I think I need to stay out here for a little bit." At your concerned look, he added, "I'm okay now, thanks to you."
"Have you gotten any sleep?" you asked, studying him with a smart eye.
He shook his head. "I tried, but everything got to be too much," came his reluctant explanation, and he ducked his head in shame, unable to continue.
"I can give you something to help you sleep," you offered, but he shook his head. "I've got some Xanax, it would take some of the edge off the anxiety," you explained, but he shook his head again. "Might even help you get some sleep…"
"I appreciate the offer, but I'm okay." At your skeptical gaze, he nodded, feeling more like himself. "I need to make sure my mind is clear so I can protect the kid."
Your face softened at his explanation. "What if I promise to keep an eye on the Furby while you get some rest?"
Din's lips quirked at the offer, but he declined with an exhale as he shook his head. "It's okay, Dorothy."
"You're not gonna be any good to him running on zero sleep," you tried again. "You've gone through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. Your body is running on fumes, Din. If you don't get some sleep, it's just gonna make the anxiety worse, trust me."
"Your concerns are noted, doc," he replied quietly and felt his lips slip into a soft smile at your pointed look.
"Nurse," you corrected.
Din nodded. "Your concerns are noted, Nurse Dorothy," he corrected, his response only making you roll your eyes, but what else was he supposed to call you when you hadn't told him your actual name?
"Well, now that you've got some color back in your face along with your dry sense of humor, how about we go back inside?" you asked, nodding toward the porch.
Din shifted, wincing as the gravel dug into his bare feet, casting a weary eye to the soft yellow light emanating from inside your home. "You go," he encouraged, ignoring your look of concern. "I think I still need some air."
Your eyes flicked over him once before asking, "Want some company?"
He shook his head. "I'm okay. I'll be back in after a little while." When you still didn't move, he tried to motion for you to head inside. "Please. I'll be fine. You're already up because of me. You got me over the worst of it, but one of us should get some sleep."
You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest. "Not used to hearing other people stomp around. Thought Bigfoot broke into my house before I remembered I had guests staying with me." He couldn't stop the quirk of his lips at your quip. "But it's actually not your fault that I woke up. Nightmare," you explained, pursing your lips and giving another soft shrug before looking down as if you were ashamed to admit it. "I was already ready to accept I probably wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, and then I heard you leave your room."
"Sounds like you're the one who needs some company," he teased back, sharing a smile with you.
"Well, I mean, if you're offering," you shrugged, smiling at him before throwing your finger up in the air. "Be right back."
And then, just as you had magically appeared, before Din could blink, you were trotting back up the porch stairs in those ridiculous yellow rubber shoes and disappeared behind the screen door inside your home.
Maker, he thought, rolling his eyes as he scrubbed his face with his hands. He must still be off from his panic attack because Din Djarin was fairly certain that you'd just tricked him into agreeing to babysit him.
You were right, he needed sleep, but as he let his hands fall to his sides and stared back at your home, he froze. His panic attack was maybe over, but those other things he still experienced, the undercurrent of nausea, the sound of his blood pumping in his ears, the way the hairs on his arm stood up at the feeling of a breeze, those kinds of things that felt as if his body was warning him that there was something wrong with this planet, were still there.
The screen door opened, and he watched you try to shuffle through with a pile of blankets so tall you struggled to get your chin over the top, while you somehow managed to hold a lamp in one hand as you maneuvered down the stairs.
Despite every cell in his body screaming at him that something was wrong with this primitive, backwater planet, he couldn't help but be thankful for your help. You may not be able to get him and Grogu back to where they were supposed to be, but you offered shelter from the storm, and he was in your debt for that.
"Don't mind me," you muttered as you made it down the last step. "I've got it."
Din smirked at the sarcasm dripping from your words. "Seems like it," he agreed, knowing you were expecting him to take some of your supplies from your arms, but it was worth it to see your irritated eyes pop up over the top blanket to glare at him.
"Here," you grumbled, shoving the lamp you were carrying in your right hand into his gut.
Din huffed a laugh as he took the lamp and watched you begin setting up camp right in the middle of the road. You let the large blanket at the bottom of the pile drop to the ground and then promptly shoved the rest of the blankets into his chest. His amused grin was still plastered on his face as he watched you struggle with the large polyester blanket until you finally untied it, freeing it from its confines. When you rolled out the blanket over the gravel, he realized it was actually a sleeping bag once you unzipped it and shook it out to its full size. Once the sleeping bag was situated to your liking, you grabbed another blanket from the top of the pile he was carrying and added the thick navy blue blanket on top of the sleeping bag. He recognized the two pillows on top of what was left from his pile from your sofa, and you chucked those down last.
"There," you announced, clearly pleased with your setup, and snatched a thin blanket from the few he still held, leaving him holding a blanket for himself and the lamp. "If we're gonna stay out here all night, might as well be comfy," you said, smiling at him as you moved to sit on one of the pillows across from him.
Din looked down at the blanket he'd been left with, feeling his brow furrow at the cartoon animals decorating it.
"They're characters from The Lion King." He looked up from the cartoon - lions on the blanket and watched you settle in, wrapping your blanket over your shoulders, noting that your blanket was lacking any cartoon animals. "I stole that blanket back from Rosie because The Lion King was my favorite movie when I was a kid, and it's super soft," you continued, smiling up at him from the ground. "Promise I'm not trying to humiliate you." Din felt one of his eyebrows lift high into his forehead at that comment. "I swear!"
"Would you pinky promise that?" He could help but smirk at the quiet snort of amusement you let slip in response to his question.
"Not only would I pinky promise, but I'll also trade you for my blanket, but I thought you'd prefer lions over yellow flowers," you countered, waving the green blanket wrapped around your shoulders, its yellow patterns forming spiraling flowers throughout the fabric.
Din quirked an eyebrow in challenge at you before he let out an apologetic sigh. "I appreciate you trying to distract me, but I'm fine," he tried, but when it was clear you weren't going anywhere, he rolled his eyes. "I just need a moment on my own before I go back inside." Still, you ignored him. "Dorothy, if you're outside and I'm outside, then there is no one inside to check on Grogu."
"Ah," you began, holding up the index finger of one hand while the other searched the pouch of your sweater before pulling out a small, handheld communication device. "That's where baby monitors come in handy," you explained, turning the knob on the top of the device until it crackled to life, and their small bubble was suddenly filled with the sound of Grogu's soft snores and quiet static. "Don't worry, Cassie and I got the good ones with some range. You can take it all the way to the barn and still hear everything."
He pressed his lips together at your work around, but you just beamed at him from the ground with a smug smile. Seeing no other way out, he wrapped the cartoon lion blanket over his shoulders and lowered himself onto the pillow across from you. He examined the lamp in his hands, trying to determine the power source, ignoring your gaze as you watched him from the other side of the blanket. After determining that it must be battery-powered, he reached for the knob and gave it a twist; the lamp immediately lit up, casting a soft golden glow over them.
"Sooooo," you breathed, eyes still on his hands as he placed the lantern between them. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Do you wanna talk about your nightmare?" he countered. Your face scrunched at the thought of sharing what prompted you to wake in the middle of the night. "Not everything needs to be talked about," Din murmured.
Unable to take the flash of hurt that crossed your eyes, he looked up at the sky. Stars glittered across a blanket of black sky. His gaze caught on a swatch of sky that appeared to have a rift, devoid of stars, yet framed by brighter sections in hues of white, deep purple, and light blue. It almost looked as if the rift had caused the stars to explode around it.
"What's that?" he asked, keeping his head locked on the sky but pointing to the feature in question.
"The Milky Way."
Milky Way… He'd have to check his maps once he managed to get back inside, but the name didn't sound familiar.
"You can only see it out here because we're so far away from the city and all the light pollution," you explained, while he continued hoping the Milky Way would drop the answers he needed about how to get back to Tython from its rift. "I had to move to the city for my last year of nursing school," you continued, filling the silence. "You could still see the stars in the city, but not like this."
Din hummed in agreement. Even he couldn't find anything negative to say about the bright road of stars carved into the sky above him. So, now he had two things he found tolerable on Earth. The Milky Way and… his head dropped to find you also looking up at the night sky with a dreamy smile on your face.
"What's it like?" you asked, then returned your gaze to him.
"What's what like?" he replied quietly, choosing not to comment on the faint blush that rose to your cheeks when you caught him staring back at you.
Your eyes rolled, and you pointed up at the sky. "Getting to travel in space. Duh."
"Thought you didn't believe me?" Din countered, lifting a challenging eyebrow back at you.
There was a moment as your eyes locked with his, and he could tell you were holding back, but decided to swallow down whatever quick retort had been on your tongue. "Make me," you said instead, surprising him. "Make me believe you."
Another laugh escaped him in a quiet huff, and he ducked his head to hide his smile. His fingers drummed idly against the soft fabric around his shoulders as he tried to think of something to put an end to your seemingly endless skepticism.
"My ship is a Razor Crest," he began, still unsure of how to assuage your doubts, but it was as good a place as any to start. He'd barely said anything, and you were already smiling. When you stopped fiddling with your comm device and set it aside, he continued. "It's an old, pre-Imperial gun ship."
It seemed that choosing where to start was the hardest part, because once he started, the words flowed with little thought. He talked about his ship, the layout, the engine specifics, how it had taken him years to save up enough for that ship, and how he continued to dump credits into her to keep her going. He talked about growing up on the moon, Concordia, and what it was like living in the Fighting Corps barracks with others his age. He talked about the places he'd traveled: planets made of snow and ice, planets made of volcanoes and lava. He told you about Coruscant, a planet that was made up of a single city, and Bespin, whose cities were suspended in the clouds. He'd told you about a moon he had almost crash-landed on to make some repairs after a shootout, and how the grass was purple, the trees were black, their bark glittering in the sun, and the lake he'd camped next to had emerald waters.
You listened intently to every word, only interjecting to ask for clarification on anything you found difficult to understand. The entire planet is made up of one city? How can you suspend an entire city in the air? Does everyone look like us? What other kinds of species live there? What do they look like? Green water from algae and pollution, or like naturally crystal clear?
Din had almost forgotten what it was like to be a child, knowing nothing about the galaxy beyond the stories he heard in his small village. Once he got over the shock of the Mandalorians and their culture, Din found it easier to accept his new situation.
"What was the first planet you ever visited?" you asked, bringing your legs up so you could rest your chin on your knees.
Din smiled at the memory. "My sponsor took me on a hunt -"
"What did he hunt?"
Din stared back at you, but you still blinked innocently back at him. "People," he deadpanned, nodding when your eyes went wide. "He was a bounty hunter, too," he explained. "He took me on a hunt right before I decided to take the Creed -"
"What's the Creed?"
While Din had found your interruptions up to this point endearing, he was half tempted to reach across the blanket and cover your mouth until he was done with his story. "Do you want to hear about the first planet my sponsor took me to that wasn't Concordia, or do you want to hear about the Creed?"
"Wait, I thought you grew up on Concordia?" you asked, face scrunched in confusion.
Din heaved a sigh. "I guess we're talking about the Creed," he muttered, shaking his head at your sheepish smile. "My homeworld was also… primitive," he settled on, smirking when you stuck your tongue out at him. "And because they were primitive, they weren't prepared when the war came. Droids dropped without warning, and there was nothing my people could do. The droids completely leveled my village. If it weren't for the Mandalorians coming, there would have been no survivors." He paused, waiting for whatever question you had, but you remained silent, staring back at him with some unnamed emotion on your face. "The Mandalorian who saved my life ended up becoming my sponsor when it became clear none of my family survived, and took me back to Concordia with him. Mandalorians believe you don't have to be born a Mandalorian to consider yourself one. If a Mandalorian comes across a child in their travels, it's their duty to reunite them with their family, or their people."
"And what if there is no one to return them to?" came your softly spoken question.
"Then it is their job to take you on as their Foundling -"
"Like Grogu!" you interjected, and he could see the understanding cross your face.
Din nodded. "They take you on as a sponsor, and they become responsible for you until you decide if you want to take the Creed and become a Mandalorian or if you want to find some other place to call home. I was seven when my sponsor saved me -"
"Seven?" you gasped under your breath. "Sorry," you grimaced. "But you were only seven when you lost everything?" Din shrugged, cast his gaze to the ground, and focused on smoothing out a wrinkle in the blanket. "I'm sorry."
Din shrugged again. He still struggled with that himself and did his best not to dwell on it. "It's behind me," he settled on. "My sponsor was a good man. Very patient. Had lost his wife and daughter a few years before he rescued me, so I think we both needed each other." Silence settled over them, punctuated by the occasional insect noise, gust of wind, or the random quiet, static snore from Grogu over the baby monitor. With a quick breath, he looked up and found you staring back at him. There was no judgment in your gaze. Only the same compassion you'd shown him since he had been dumped on you. "It took me two years, but on the second anniversary of the attack on my homeworld, I took the Creed."
"Is it a big ceremony?"
"It's a ceremony, but nothing over the top. We would stand in the middle of a circle of other Mandalorians, and recite the Creed as we put our first helmet on." He could still remember trembling before the tribe's Armorer at the time. "I swear on my name, and the names of the ancestors that I shall walk the Way of the Mand'alor and the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart. This is the way," he finished, but had to look somewhere else to avoid your intense gaze quickly. "From this moment on, I shall never remove my helmet."
Eventually, your voice broke the silence. "I'm so sorry, Din." He shrugged, still unable to look at you as the heavy weight of reality settled over his shoulders once more. Din shrugged again because there was really nothing else to say. "I kinda feel like you need a hug."
A harsh bark of laughter escaped him at the suggestion, and he finally managed to look at you. "I assure you, I'm fine," he said, chuckling and sharing a smile with you.
Your eyebrows rose, and your lips pursed at his words. "You telling me you're fine sounds like me telling people I'm fine when I'm anything but fine," you countered, striking a little too close to the truth for his liking. "It's okay not to be fine. It's okay to be upset and angry. In fact, I wouldn't blame you if you took off with Grogu at the crack of dawn to get away."
Din frowned at that. "Why would I do that?"
Your head tilted slightly at the question, and your eyes screamed 'don't be stupid' back at him. "Because I'm the reason you lost your religion - Creed, whatever," came your hurt-filled response.
Din's shoulders sagged as he let out a quiet sigh. "You didn't know, Dorothy. You didn't remove my helmet. I didn't remove it for you… It just… came off. You were trying to save my life. It was just unfortunate circumstances," he replied quietly, surprised to find tears brimming in your eyes. "Now you're the one who looks like they need a hug," he tried to joke, wanting to return to the easy banter the two of you had found earlier - anything to avoid talking about losing his helmet, his Creed, or the attack on Aq Vetina.
"Okay, if you insist," you replied as you started shuffling to your feet.
Din's face dropped when he realized he had fallen into the same trap you had ensnared him in earlier, which had led him to blather on to you about his life story on the ground.
"Dorothy," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose when your purple fuzzy pants came to stand beside him.
"Too late, Spaceman," you told him, just in time for him to watch you come to kneel on both knees beside him. "You're the one who offered."
Din shook his head. "I wasn't," he tried, keeping his voice flat and face stoic, even as you smiled back at him.
"I think you were," you whispered, smiling brightly at him. "C'mon, bring it in," you ordered, opening your arms up.
Before he could finish his annoyed sigh, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into your forced embrace.
"Are you always this friendly with strangers?" he grumbled, refusing to return the embrace.
"Only ones from outer space who lose their religion because of me," you shot back, squeezing his neck tighter. Din rolled his eyes, but you continued speaking before he could try to pry you off him. "We're gonna find your helmet, Din," you whispered, clutching him tightly. "I promise. I'll even do whatever the Mandalorian equivalent is to the pinky promise if that makes you feel better."
It took a watery chuckle from him to realize that you had made him tear up with your sincerity. Before he could talk himself out of it, he shifted to return your karking hug. Din let his arms slip under yours so he could cross them over your back. His hands found your shoulders, and he pulled you flush against him, even resting his cheek on the top of your head.
"Thank you, Dorothy," he whispered in the quiet.
"Do you always hug complete strangers?"
Din rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling at your question. "No," he answered truthfully. "Only you."
"For someone who doesn't strike me as the hugging type, you're surprisingly good at it," you joked. With one final squeeze, you released him, and surprisingly, he found himself feeling a little lighter after the embrace.
The two of you exchanged awkward smiles, and you turned toward the horizon for a moment before forcing yourself up with a grimace. Din watched as you rose, noting the wince as you grabbed your right knee and the slight limp you had as you made your way back to your pillow opposite him.
"How about -"
"No more talking, Dorothy," he pleaded as he pulled the blanket with the cartoon lions back over his shoulders.
"If you would let me finish," you grumbled, reaching into the front pocket of your sweater. Din watched blankly as you pulled out a small, rectangular blue-and-white cardboard box. "I was going to suggest that I teach you an Earth game," you explained, shaking the box.
"An Earth game," he repeated slowly, watching you open the box. When you dumped out a deck of cards in your hands, he perked up slightly.
You nodded as you started expertly shuffling the cards in your hands. "Figured we could do something to pass the time for," you stopped shuffling the cards to check your comm device, "another hour or so. That is, unless you wanna keep talking? There is a lot to unpack with what you've already told me -"
"Dorothy," he sighed, glaring at you from across the blanket until you gave in with a shrug. "What happens in an hour?"
"You'll see."
Din rolled his eyes at your cryptic answer but reluctantly accepted that you held all the cards… so to speak.
"Alright, the name of the game is Go Fish," you explained as you began dealing cards. "We're each gonna start with ten cards. Your goal is to get four of a kind. There are four different suits: hearts, diamonds, spades, and clubs," you continued, flipping over one of your cards to show him. "So, this one is a -"
"Four of hearts?" he guessed.
You nodded excitedly. "Yes!" you cheered before your expression faltered. Your mouth dropped, and you gaped back at him with wide eyes. "Oh my god, you can read!" you shouted, voice carrying across the open fields.
Oh, for the love of... "Of course I can read!" he shouted back. Did you really think he was a karking idiot?
Your mouth flapped like a fish gasping for air, and you motioned silently between your bodies while he stared you down with wild eyes and a half-snarl. "I just assumed! You couldn't read my name on my credit cards!"
Din rolled his eyes. "Sorry for not being able to read another language -"
"You speak English!"
"You speak Galactic Basic Standard!" he countered, voice rising to match yours.
Your face scrunched at that, and shortly after, you held your hands out to stop him. "Okay, okay," you began slowly, taking a deep breath. "How did you know this was a four?" you asked, holding the card up for him again.
For what felt like the hundredth time since he was dropped in this hell-hole, he rolled his eyes at your question. "Because I can read. I'm not an idiot!"
"I never called you an idiot!" you groaned.
"You didn't think I could read -"
"No!" you stopped him, thrusting a finger over the light to point at him. "I didn't think you could read English."
"Well, you'd be right, I can't read your karking English, but I can read Aurebesh."
"Aur-Aurebesh," you repeated, stumbling over the word.
Din nodded. "Consider it the standard where I'm from," he explained. "Most planets with any kind of trade traffic, or that do any sort of business with other planets, will still display the Aurebesh along with whatever their culture's language is."
"And most of these planets speak Galactic Basic?" you asked, sounding as if you were having difficulties wrapping your mind around the idea.
"Not all, but a lot," he answered, nodding along. "Is that what English is on Earth?"
"Nooooo," you breathed out, shaking your head. "I mean, if you asked people around here, they would tell you that English should be the standard, but almost every country has its own different language. Even the English language isn't that cut-and-dried. There is the American version, and then, across the ocean, there is a British version. It's mostly the same, but we spell some of our words differently, and some words don't have the same meaning here that they do over there." You fiddled with the card in your hands, and he could tell by the way you began chewing on your bottom lip that you were trying to work up the courage to say something. "Can I ask you something?"
"If I say no, will that stop you from asking it anyway?"
"No." Din rolled his eyes for the hundred and first time. "Earlier, in the kitchen, you said you spoke like four languages… is one of those Mandalorian?"
Din nodded. "Mando'a," he corrected.
"Could you… Could you say something? In Mando'a?" you asked, eyes open and eager as you looked at him.
He smirked at the request and let out a low hum. It took only a moment for the words to come to him. "Ni nayc di'kut a gar mir'sheb."
"Whoa," came your hushed response, but the awe was all reflected in your face.
"What about you?" he asked, smiling when your eyes went wide. "Do you speak any of the other languages of your world?"
You shook your head. "I wish. I've been trying to learn Spanish. Not Cassie's parents, but Rosie's other set of grandparents are from Puerto Rico, so Cassie and I have been trying to learn Spanish along with Rosie. Unfortunately, Rosie is seven, not in her thirties, and picks up on it much more easily than we do. The last time Rosie's grandparents came over, I was in the kitchen with her Abuelita, grandma, and we were chopping up fruit for dessert, and I was responsible for the peaches…" You tapered off, clenching your eyes shut at the memory. "And… I forgot the word for peaches, and attempted to say peaches, but with an accent, so it sounded more like pichas." You paused to lean over and whisper, "And that's how I learned the word for dick in Spanish."
"No," Din began, chuckling quietly at the embarrassed flush that immediately spread across your cheeks.
You continued to nod. "Yeeaaahhhhh, so I basically told my niece's grandmother how much I enjoyed eating dick… Repeatedly." Din couldn't hold back the laughter at that point. "I was mortified," you groaned. "I promptly excused myself from the kitchen and told Cassie I was going to go light myself on fire."
Din couldn't stop laughing. He couldn't stop until he was wheezing and had tears forming in his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah," you grumbled, flicking the four of hearts card across the blanket at him. "Laugh it up, mister, I Speak Four Fucking Languages."
"Sorry," he said, smiling as he still attempted to rein in his laughter.
"No, you're not," you scoffed while Din smirked and shrugged back at you, but you just rolled your eyes. "Maybe I'll try and learn Mando'a," you countered with a challenging raise of your eyebrow as you sat up straight. "What was it you said earlier?"
"Ni nayc di'kut a gar mir'sheb," he repeated, unable to stop smiling.
"What does that mean?" you asked, but when Din could only smile back, you narrowed your eyes at him. "Din," you prodded. "What. Does. That. Mean?"
"It roughly translates to, I'm not an idiot, but you're a smartass."
Even through your agitated huff, he could still see the glint of amusement in your eyes. "You're such a dick!" you yelled at him before tossing the deck of cards at him.
Din's cheeks hurt from smiling, and he continued to chuckle as he watched all of the cards flutter around the blanket before they even reached him. "Well," he began, pursing his lips together to keep from laughing at the glower that came his way. "Seems you would know," he teased.
Your mouth dropped at his quip, and he wagged his eyebrows back. There was a sound similar to a growl before you lunged at him in a blur. "Dick!" you laughed, and he allowed you one smack to his arm before he grabbed your wrists to stop you from landing any further blows.
The two of you shared a smile. Maker, he couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so much. And he seemed to realize at the same time you did that he was still holding on to your wrists, and you were both still staring at each other. He cleared his throat, hoping you wouldn't notice the blush that crept up his neck as he let you go.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"For what?" you asked as you made yourself comfortable, lying diagonally across the blanket on your back.
"For distracting me from everything." Din shrugged and looked down at the cards spread out across the blanket. "It's been a long time since I've smiled this much."
"You have a nice smile," you said as you fluffed your pillow up so you could rest your head on it and look up at the sky. Din blushed at the compliment and ducked his head to rub the back of his neck. "Oh, don't play the bashful card," you teased. "I'm sure I'm not the first girl who's ever told you that."
And just like that, the dagger twisted painfully in his chest.
"Actually," he sighed, turning his head to look at you. "You are." At your look of shock, he shrugged. "You're also the first person in almost thirty years who's seen my face."
"Right," you whispered, guilt washing over your features again.
"I still don't blame you," he whispered back, but the guilt still clung to your eyes. "And I promise, this doesn't call for a hug," he tried to tease you, but it fell flat, even to his own ears.
You studied him for another moment before you reached over to pat the cards on the blanket closest to you. "C'mon, clean up your mess," you ordered. "Then you can deal us up ten cards each. Let's see if any other numbers are similar to your Aurebesh."
Din nodded, thankful for the distraction as he began gathering the cards into a neat pile. "So, what were the rules for your Go Fish? Four of a kind?"
Ten minutes later, both of you learned that the basic Aurebesh numbers were similar enough to your English that he could read them without a problem. He also learned that you were a cheat when he caught you trying to hide one of the cards you knew he had to pretend you didn't have, keeping him from completing his set of all sixes.
Another ten minutes passed, and his back could no longer tolerate sitting on the ground, so he stretched out to lie beside you on the blanket.
"Are you asleep?" you whispered from beside him.
"No," he whispered back, keeping his eyes directed on the sky above him, where the Milky Way had been prominent hours ago, but had now disappeared as the sky began to lighten, leaving only a scattering of stubborn stars twinkling back at him.
"Good. I don't want you to miss the sunrise. It's one of the best things about this planet. Second only to a perfect country sunset."
"Careful. Sounds like you're admitting I might not be from Earth."
Your lips quirked at that before saying, "I don't know, you spun a pretty convincing story, Spaceman." Din could only shake his head at your words, but knew he'd wear you down eventually. "I also recorded everything you said." Din's head snapped to glower at you after your admission, and caught you smiling until you raised your small comm device for him to see. "I'm gonna replay this tomorrow. Or later today, rather, and fact-check everything you said," came your smug reply.
He let out a quiet snort. "Be my guest, Dorothy," he responded before returning his gaze to the stars.
However, from his periphery, he could still see you staring at him.
"Din," you began, sounding oddly serious, and he turned his head to look back at you. "What happens if we don't find your helmet?" came your softly spoken, almost hesitant question.
The question only twisted the dagger already embedded in his heart. "Then we don't find it," he murmured.
Your frown deepened before you chewed on your lip for only a second before asking, "What if I got you a new one?"
He couldn't stop the soft sigh from escaping him at your offer. "It's not the same," he whispered, making your frown deepen further.
The two of you went back to staring at the sky, lying in silence beside one another on the ground. Between the sleeping bag and the comforter, he could barely feel the gravel under him, except for a few larger pieces here and there, but he oddly found it more comfortable than the mattress upstairs.
From the periphery, he could see you shift to your side and prop yourself up on one arm before asking, "What happens if we do find it?"
"What do you mean?" Din asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the sky.
"Well, if we do, does that mean you're gonna go back to wearing it all the time?"
Din shook his head, wishing you'd change the subject to anything else. "The Creed says that once my helmet has been removed, it's not to be worn again."
"How would they know?" you asked, tilting your head out of curiosity. "I mean, wherever you're from is a very, very, very long way away. Once you make it back and you're wearing it, how would they know? I'm not a rat. I wouldn't tell them -"
"But I would," came his solemn answer. When he could see your mouth opening to argue with him, he turned his head towards you, stopping you from whatever you were about to say. "My Creed, my religion… I took an oath, a vow, and I broke that oath; now I have to live with the consequences. I'm a man of my word, Dorothy. If I don't have that, what do I have?"
You gave a reluctant nod. "I get it. It's not very often you hear about people like you being that devout. Most of our religions let you atone for your sins… Maybe your Creed has something like that?" Din contemplated it and tried to recall his past lessons for something along those lines. That would be something for the Armorer to decide. However, he'd need to figure out how to get back to Tython and his ship before he could even begin tracking his tribe's covert down. "In the meantime, you still have Grogu," you tried, giving him a comforting smile. "He seems pretty concerned about you. When he's not stuffing his face full of cookies," you added on with a wink, making Din snort. "Maybe it's a good thing this happened here."
"How so?"
"Well, it would be kinda weird if you wore it all the time here. People would look at you funny. And…" you faded off as a faint blush rose on your cheeks. "Like I said, you have a nice smile. It'd be a shame if I never got to see it again."
Din was sure his own cheeks flushed at the compliment, and tried to brush it off with a roll of his eyes as you returned to making yourself comfortable beside him once more. In a slow, controlled stream, he let the air out of his lungs as he rolled his head from your prone form to look up at the sky, slowly transitioning from black to blue, signaling a new day.
A new day on a planet that has barely managed space travel, much less contact with another species.
The reality of their situation settled back over him, and with it, the return of that feeling of his body screaming at him that he wasn't supposed to be here.
"When's the last time you watched the sunrise without wearing a helmet?" you asked as you moved to sit up. Another rush of air escaped his chest as he thought about your question, but you were already grabbing his hand before he could answer. "Too long then," you murmured, tugging him up by the hand. "C'mon."
Din let you drag him up and followed you, walking tenderly across the gravel road until they reached the other side, and he smiled at the feeling of the grass between his toes. When you let go of his hand to lean against the fence, he couldn't help but feel cold once your hand was no longer in his, but he pushed the thought aside and mimicked your position, leaning his forearms against the top rail of the wooden fence.
"I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but everything is gonna work out," you said, eyes directed at the slowly lightening sky in the distance.
Din couldn't help but scoff, but let his eyes drift away from the horizon when he felt your shoulder bump against his arm. You were looking back at him with a look of sheer determination that was becoming infectious. When he leaned into your shoulder, you smiled and nodded back at the horizon where the sky was slowly turning pink.
You were right. It didn't feel like things would work out. Right now. However, right in this moment, watching the sunrise on a strange, backwater skughole, he couldn't help but feel cautiously optimistic. And it was all because of you.
You, who had pulled him from the turbulent, stormy waters, keeping him from drowning when the current threatened to pull him under. Even if neither of you had any idea how they got here or how to get them back, something told him you'd help him find the right answers.
Din let his gaze return to the sunrise, watching the sun slowly rise, painting the sky in vibrant swatches of pink, purple, orange, and yellow. And for the first time since he landed on your vehicle, Din found the third thing he liked about Earth. The Milky Way, the sunrise, and…
"Do they have coffee in space?" you asked, turning a curious face to him. "You know, usually hot, dark brown, ideally highly caffeinated."
Din smirked at your question. "Caf," he replied with a nod.
A soft snort left you. "Caf," you snarked, rolling your eyes. "How about a cup of caf, Spaceman?" you asked, smiling back at him.
🧡 Tag List: @racheldon @leeroyjagginz @djarins-cyare @higgsvoidout @abandonedreaper @brunloccPlease drop a comment or send me a message if you'd like to be added to the tag list 🧡
Country Roads - Chapter 4: Cookies and Twenty Questions
🧡Country Roads Masterlist🧡
Previous Chapter
🌪️ Chapter Summary: April 3rd, twenty twenty-something: the night you had cookies and hot chocolate with a man from outer space.
🌪️ Pairings: Fem!Earthling!Reader x Din Djarin
🌪️ Word Count: 7.4k
AO3 link to Ch 4
Chapter 4: Cookies and Twenty Questions
April third, twenty twenty-something
The sound of the pipes upstairs kicked on just as you finished washing the last of the day's dishes in the kitchen sink. Your eyes flicked to the ceiling at the sound of water flowing through the pipes as you set the last plate in the rack to the left to dry, then wiped your hands on the hand towel while you tried to figure out how tonight would go.
It was strange to hear someone else padding around upstairs after you, Cassie, and Rosie had been living here on your own for so long. It would seem that a couple of boys had temporarily invaded your girls' club, but you had a week before Cassie returned from visiting her mother to figure out what to do with them.
After a brief, awkward tour of the farmhouse you grew up in, you showed your guests to the spare room that was upstairs, across the hall from yours. Neither you nor Cassie got many guests, so it had turned into a dumping ground for a lot of Rosie's old baby things she had outgrown, but the man didn't seem fazed by the mess. You rambled on about the rules for the upstairs shower while you shuffled some things around and cleared off the bed for him. One of those baby things was the crib you and Cassie had saved up for, and neither of you could seem to part with it. Which seemed to work out in your guest's favor, because it was the perfect size for the radioactive Furby, otherwise known as Grogu.
Speaking of radioactive Furbies…
"Okay, Grogu, huh?" you asked, at the adorable, bug-eyed, goblin-looking creature looking up at you from the floor. "So this guy you're traveling with," you began, hand on your hip as you stared him down. "He's cool, right? Not a serial killer who lures unsuspecting women in with his adorable green Furby?" The green Furby in question giggled as he waddled closer to you to hug your leg. "Okay, but I just want you to know that if he murders me in my sleep tonight, I'm coming back to haunt you," you warned with a smile, making the kid smile along with you. "With that settled, I regret to inform you that you also stink just as bad as your Spaceman, so while he's showering upstairs, you're getting your own bath down here," you announced, nodding at the sink.
There was significantly less squirming and fighting than you anticipated as you bathed the tiny green creature in Rosie's old baby bathtub. By the end, Grogu seemed even to be enjoying himself, playing with the bubbles and the rubber duck you'd scrounged up. Meanwhile, you were thankful to have the Furby's bath to distract you from thinking about the man who came with it.
More specifically, about how that man was currently naked and showering in your upstairs bathroom.
And how said naked Spaceman had a jet pack. The memory of being high in the air brought a stupid smile to your face. The view of the country was unbelievably beautiful under the moonlight. The blush that crept on your cheeks when you thought about how it felt to be held in the man's arms or how his lips grazed your ear took you by surprise, but if you were being honest, that was almost as exciting as the brief ride. Almost. Because the jet pack was pretty fucking cool.
Stop, you had to tell yourself. You couldn't get distracted while you were taking care of the Spaceman's tiny green creature.
Thankfully, the sound of the pipes creaking again gave you something else to think about.
The farm had more or less been dumped on you at nineteen, and between trying to manage that and your final year of nursing school, you almost had a breakdown. If it weren't for Cassie and a few neighbors helping you keep things afloat, you definitely would have. So, it was a no-brainer for you to insist that Cassie move in once she learned the bomb-dropping news that she was pregnant. Now that Rosie was seven (and three-quarters, you heard Rosie's voice in your mind add). The three-quarters part was very important to the girl recently because she wanted everyone to know she would be turning eight this summer. After the three of you had been living under one roof for so long, it was hard to picture living here alone all this time.
Cassie and Rosie were the closest you had to any family after yours imploded. Your dad was… well, he was gone. Your mom and brother moved out while you were in nursing school, and they showed no interest in returning to farm life. Your mom usually showed up once a year under the guise of catching up, but every trip ended with her pleading with you to sell the farm and be done with it. Last year's visit, she even brought a written offer from a corporation interested in the land, thinking you'd sign it the second you saw how many zeros were in it. Neither of them understood your attachment to the place, especially after everything that happened with your dad… which wasn't the point right now. The point was, there was a possible Spaceman who was currently using your shower while you were downstairs bathing his strange Furby… child… thing. And now you needed to figure out what to do with them.
Well, alleged Spaceman, but after his earlier flight demonstration, it was becoming scarily easy to play along with his delusions. Still, you had to look at the situation with a practical eye. Nothing could be ruled out. It had been a few years since any of your psych classes or rotations, but you were hoping to glean as much information as you could from him before you turned in for the night. You had less than a week to determine if he was just a crazed Trekkie with a concussion or someone experiencing a true psychotic break. Or, even less likely, a man from another planet.
Although… as you dried the green child off, you had to wonder if you were the one who was maybe experiencing a psychotic break. Your attempts to find any creature, alive, dead, or fictional, that even remotely resembled the one you were currently holding had come up empty, but you weren't willing to throw in the towel and accept the outer-space-and-aliens story. There had to be some other logical explanation for Grogu.
As you heard the pipes cut off to the shower, cold, hard reality set in as you wrapped the goblin in a fluffy towel and held him in your hands. The fact of the matter was that it didn't matter whether he was an alien or not. You still had a stranger in your house, and that realization anxiously churned low in your gut.
Anyone else would have called you crazy, but you'd looked into that man's eyes, and all you saw was devastation.
Your relationship with your father was… complicated at best, but you'd always admired him for picking up the occasional stray. Someone down on their luck, or maybe not strictly legal. Their past didn't matter. If they were willing to put in some sweat and do some honest work, then your dad was willing to give them a chance. He would give them a job as a farmhand and pay them cash under the table until they got back on their feet and were ready and able to move on.
Of course, the first stray you brought home thought he was from outer space and was accompanied by a space goblin. Probably not the best farmhand material, but maybe he deserved a chance to try. At least until you could determine whether he was a danger to himself or others, and you felt you could comfortably release him into the wilds or, worst-case scenario, notify the authorities.
If he didn't murder you in your sleep tonight.
Or the goblin ate you…
And if he didn't murder you and the goblin didn't eat you, then there was the whole matter of explaining the strange man and his space goblin to Cassie, of all people. Your closest confidant. The one who knew all your secrets. The one who would help you bury a body, no questions asked…
Maybe it was for the best that they were out of town. No, it was definitely for the best that Cassie and Rosie were out of town. There was no way you would have made the offer if your best friend and her daughter were here. You would never do anything to put the two most important people in your life at risk. However, you could hear Cassie in the back of your mind yelling at you for not having that same sense of self-worth about your own life… but every time you thought about kicking your Spaceman and his tiny sidekick to the curb, the man's mournful brown eyes flashed in your mind, guilting you into sticking by your word.
Still… someone else should know you had a stranger over…
"I'll tell you what, Grogu," you started as you redressed the green child in one of Rosie's shirts that she'd outgrown. The Furby stared at the blue shirt and poked at the printed dog with one of its talons. It was the least girlie option you could find on short notice that was the closest size-wise to the dirty sack you had pulled off of him to wash. "If you can sit here and not do anything strange, I'll make some cookies." The way his ears perked up at the last word convinced you that he at least understood the word "cookies". "Yeah? Pretty good deal, huh? You gotta sit there quietly and behave. If you can be really patient for like fifteen minutes, there will be cookies and hot chocolate," you informed him with a bright smile as you got him settled in Rosie's booster seat at the table again.
You gave the kid one last knowing look before you turned back to grab the premade cookie dough from the fridge. While you waited for the oven to preheat, you pulled your phone from your hoodie's pocket and, before you could talk yourself out of it, opened up your messages.
You: Do not freak out, but I have a man over.
Your phone buzzed almost immediately, but you took a minute to set the cookies in the oven and start hot chocolate on the stovetop before returning to it.
Cass: Shut the fuck up! That tornado last night must have been worse than you were letting on. Especially if you actually felt the need to bang some stranger when it was over. But atta girl! It's about time you got back in the saddle again! 🥳
You rolled your eyes at your best friend's response. After Cassie's last miserable, failed attempt at setting you up, she was going to be relentless about you 'getting back out there'.
Cass: Or was this secretly the plan all along? Wait until you've got us out of the house for two weeks and then bring home an endless parade of strangers to boink?
You: Yes, Cass, that was my plan all along.
Cass: I can hear the sarcasm from here, babe. But I mean, that's usually my routine when the stars align, and I have both you and Rosie out of the house for an extended period. Is it too much for me to hope that my best friend is finally getting laid? I'm stuck taking care of my mother for another week. Let me live vicariously through you.
You: Wait, just how many men exactly have you brought into my house over the last eight years?
Cass: What happened to it being our house? 😝 But we're not talking about me. Tell me everything and leave nothing out!
You: Idk what to tell you. It just sort of… happened. Idk, he's kinda a weirdo. Just so someone else knows. You're stuck with the farm if I'm murdered.
The three ellipses came and went several times before your phone finally buzzed with her reply.
Cass: Define weirdo?
At that moment, you heard the weirdo in question round the corner, and when you looked up, your mouth dropped.
He was dressed in your brother's old Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt and grey sweats, holding his dirty clothes. The black shirt stretched tight across his chest, giving you an excellent view of his broad chest and shoulders, and looked as if it were cutting off circulation to his biceps. Not to mention the way his hair was ruffled and hanging down from the water…
You: Actually, I think everything is going to be fine. If I die, just know he was sexy. I'll text in the morning.
"Here," you offered, setting your phone on the kitchen table and walking to take his clothes from him, then to the small mud room to throw them in the wash along with Grogu's burlap sack.
"Thanks," he murmured, looking extremely uncomfortable wearing the borrowed clothes and walking barefoot in your kitchen.
"Was the shower okay?" you called from the wash. The poor guy smelled like your citrus-scented bath products, but it was a million percent better than it was before.
"Yeah," he replied, and you waited for a follow-up, but none came.
You rolled your eyes at his monosyllabic response before heading back to the kitchen and toward the stove. "I hope it was warm enough. Sometimes the water heater can be a bit temperamental," you commented to fill the silence while you stirred the pot of hot chocolate and cracked the oven open to check on the cookies.
"It was fine. What is the kid wearing?" he asked with a slight snarl, finally noticing the clothes you'd changed Grogu into.
"The options were Bluey or My Little Pony, and I thought the dog shirt would be less traumatic for you than the pink sparkly one," you teased, but the man seemed unfazed by your comment.
It would seem his shower had washed away the brief, casual, almost normal repartee the two of you had after taking a ride with his jet pack.
So that's how it was going to be? When you turned from checking on your late-night snacks with a quip on your lips, it died the second you saw his head wound had reopened. "You're bleeding," you pointed out, walking past the man to grab your pack from the hallway closet. "Have a seat," you ordered, nodding for the chair beside Grogu's while you got your gear situated.
You could hear the man let out a sigh before he tried getting out of it. "You really don't -"
"Oh, I really do," you interrupted as you returned to the kitchen and went toe-to-toe with the looming, broad-shouldered man. "Sit," you snapped, slipping into your nurse voice.
The man towered over you, staring at you as if debating his options before he eventually cracked and took a seat at the table.
You went to work, donning another pair of gloves and grabbing some gauze before frowning and poking and prodding at the laceration.
"I took the stickers off," the man admitted. "They itched."
With a tisk, you leveled your most unimpressed look at your patient. "Yeah, well, you're gonna have to deal with the itching. Even Grogu left his stickers alone," you pointed out, sharing a smile with the green creature when its keeper scowled. "It's the best I've got unless you want me to take you to the hospital for stitches?"
"Can't you just cauterize it?" he asked as your hands went to the wound to ensure you could still try to close it with butterflies.
You stepped back from the man, raising an eyebrow at his question. "Um, ow," you countered, but once again, the man looked stoic and unfazed. "You're a big boy. The butterfly sutures are annoying, I'll give you that, but they will work just fine, and you won't scar nearly as badly as you would with your other suggestion."
The man shrugged, but didn't stop you from proceeding with your final repairs, placing another three butterflies along the laceration.
"So, you're a healer?" he asked as you cleaned up and removed your gloves.
You smiled at his question. "Healer?" you asked, a little confused by the phrasing. "Um, I guess? I'm a nurse at the local ER," you told him. "But I like the term Healer better," you nodded. "Makes me sound like I'm in Game of Thrones or something," you joked, but the man didn't laugh back.
Awkward silence settled over the kitchen again, and you shared a blank look with Grogu before returning to the stove to take the cookies out of the oven and pour three glasses of hot chocolate.
"Here," you offered, placing the mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of each of your guests and the plate of a dozen chocolate chip cookies in the middle of the table before taking your seat across from him. You watched the man pick up the mug and couldn't help the huff that escaped you when he scrunched his face up after taking a whiff. "It's hot chocolate." It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back your quiet laughter at his reaction to the sweet beverage. "My dad used to always make me hot chocolate and cookies after a bad day," you explained with a shrug. "I'd say you're having a bad day."
The man frowned into his mug and set it on the table, wrapping his hands around it as if trying to draw warmth from it.
"Sooooo," you began, passing a napkin with a couple of cookies over to Grogu, who instantly lit up. "If you're staying here, I'm gonna need to call you something other than Spaceman," came your not-so-subtle attempt to get a name out of your new overnight guest.
"Manners," the Spaceman chided as the goblin stuffed an entire cookie in his mouth, but never answered your roundabout question. He tried to look anywhere but at you. Grogu, the peeling wallpaper, his hot chocolate, basically anywhere else, as his silent avoidance continued.
And then, a more troublesome thought crept in through the cracks in your annoyance. "Do you… Do you remember your name?" you asked softly, putting your mug down to give him your complete attention.
With his eyes still on his drink, he snapped back with a "Yes" under his breath, making you roll your eyes.
And here you were thinking that a hot shower would help with that chip on his shoulder.
"I can keep calling you Spaceman if you want, but a name might help figure out where you're from."
Another stretch of tense silence spanned across the table while Grogu happily munched on his second cookie, oblivious to his keeper's distress. Right as you took a sip from your mug, ready to accept that while this guy might trust you enough for him and his Furby to spend the night, that was as much as you were going to glean from the stranger, you heard a quiet mumble from across the table.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" you asked, fighting to tamp down the urge to poke the bear, so to speak.
With a pained sigh, the man finally looked at you and said, "It's Din."
"Din?" you repeated, unsure if you heard him correctly, and the man nodded back at you. "Like you came across a bear den on your hike?"
"Close enough," came his begrudging response.
"No," you corrected him seriously. "It's your name. I want to make sure I get it right."
He, Din, softened slightly at your determination. "Your pronunciation is correct." He shrugged, eyes back on Grogu, the green goblin, watching him start in on his third cooking with a shake of his head.
"Okay," you nodded, giving him your best, calming smile. The same sort of kind, reassuring smile you gave to a nervous patient, and watched him continue to relax at the table. "Okay, Din, that's a start," you said, pleased with the tiny step forward the two of you had made as you grabbed a cookie for yourself and contemplated the best way to extract even more information from Din. "I'm guessing that since you don't have a magical duffel bag of belongings, you also don't have a wallet with any kind of ID on you?" As expected, the man shook his head negatively, confirming your suspicions. "Which means no magical wad of cash or credit cards," you said, blowing out a disgruntled sigh.
However, the man perked up at that. "I have some credits," he announced. "Not a lot."
You cursed yourself for not having thought to ask for a credit card sooner. That would at least confirm his name. Or the name of whoever he stole it from, but it was at least a step in the right direction. Worst-case scenario, if all he had was cash on him, you could Google pictures to try to figure out what country he came from if it wasn't American currency.
"Well, go get it," you pointed excitedly toward the stairs. "Maybe you've got enough for some supplies and a bus ticket."
The man nodded at your words and headed back upstairs, almost tripping over his chair in his hurry.
You shared a smile with Grogu and offered him a fourth cookie. "Maybe you two aren't so lost after all, Grogu," you announced, feeling some of the anxiety leave you. While you waited for the man to return, you took a moment to check your phone.
Cassie had replied to your text, and your eyes were immediately met with an eggplant emoji that filled your screen with an echo effect, followed by "I need details as soon as possible."
The man's footsteps thundered down the stairs, and you flipped your phone back over, not wanting to make an already awkward evening even more embarrassing with your best friend's inappropriate text. When your guest returned to the kitchen, you couldn't help but be drawn to how his biceps strained that poor shirt, and the closer he got, your mouth went dry as you got an up-close-and-personal look at those muscles...
And then the sound of metal hitting the table made you stop your inspection and look at what he had put in front of you.
"What am I looking at?" you asked, picking up something round and squishy.
"Credits," he replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
You managed to pull your attention from the "credit" to give the man a blank face. Surely this was some joke. "This is a poker chip," you corrected, holding it up. "I think."
"It's a Calamari Flan," he said, retaking his seat.
Your eyebrows rose slowly on their own accord. Grogu's quiet grunts filled the silence, and out of the corner of your eye, you caught him reaching for your phone, even squinting in concentration as if he expected it to fly into his hand. Even more curious, Din appeared to be watching the child as well, and appeared mildly concerned that Grogu couldn't move your phone with his mind.
But your phone wasn't the problem at the moment.
"Cal-Calamari?" you questioned, and the man nodded. "Calamari?" you repeated slowly, giving the man every opportunity to correct himself, but he nodded again. "Like the fried Calamari I order from Olive Garden?"
His brow furrowed at your question, creating deep creases in the center of his forehead, as if he thought you were the one speaking nonsense. "Why would you fry a Mon Calamari at a garden for olives?" he finally asked, still struggling to wrap his mind around what you said.
You said the only thing that made sense in that moment, "Huh?" First, it was the Wizard of Oz, and now Olive Garden? Who hasn't heard of Olive Garden before?
"There are three other currencies there," he argued, pointing to the small pile before you. "New Republic, Old Republic, there's even some Imperial Credits," he explained, deep brown eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition. "You're telling me your planet doesn't use any of those?"
You set the strange rubber disc down and covered your face with your hands. "This is the map thing all over again," you groaned, sliding your hands down your face before pushing yourself up from the table to grab your wallet, which had been tossed onto the entryway table after you got back from running errands.
The man's eyes burned holes in your back until you snatched the wallet and crossed the short distance back to the kitchen table.
"Credit card," you explained, pulling out your Capital One card. "Debit card," you continued, dropping the two plastic cards on the table in front of him. "Cold hard cash," you finished, popping a five-dollar bill in front of his face before letting it fall onto the table.
Din picked up the plastic cards with one hand and the five-dollar bill in the other. If it weren't so completely unbelievable, you would actually have believed he was a spaceman, because he genuinely looked like he had never seen any variation of them before in his life.
"This is currency?" he asked, looking back up at you with a frown.
The question left your mouth before you could stop yourself: "Okay, seriously, dude, what kind of crazy cult did you escape from?"
Brown eyes burned with rage, completely directed across the table at you. The man slammed your cards down on the table, hands slapping against the tabletop as he used them to shove himself out of his chair. All six feet of him towered menacingly over you, snarling angrily. "I'm not from a cult," he growled.
Tense silence settled over the kitchen at the man's correction. You sat frozen in fear at the table, your fight-or-flight instincts telling you not to make any sudden movements. Even Grogu stared at his keeper with wide, startled eyes. You did your best to keep your face neutral and understanding, so as not to infuriate the man further. However, internally, you knew you had struck a nerve with your question. Based on the man's response, you were convinced that this wasn't the first time he'd been accused of being a cult member.
Something to remember for later.
"Okay," you breathed out, putting your hands up in surrender. "Okay," you said, nodding, getting a little nervous as the fire in the man's brown eyes showed no sign of dying down. His chest heaved as he bared his teeth in rage at you, making you concerned that he couldn't hear you through his anger. "I didn't mean to offend you, Din," you whispered, as you slowly lowered your hands to grip your mug of hot chocolate.
You hadn't, but you still socked away that tiny piece of information. You'd watched some Netflix docs about cults. This guy might have been harbored by one for his entire life. It would make sense… Except for the whole "outer space" issue. The stranger was getting curiouser and curiouser.
Hopefully, he would believe you before he did something rash.
Images of him lunging across the table and pulling you from your chair flashed in your mind, making you gulp. Was your remark a step over the line? Was the grinning, amused Spaceman you glimpsed not an hour ago gone forever? It would take nothing for the man to have you out of your chair while he pinned you against the kitchen counter with his much larger body, and not in the fun way that Cassie currently thought you were spending your evening.
The fire from his brown eyes vanished at the sound of his name, and he seemed to realize you had gone pale. He blinked and hung his head when he realized you were terrified because of him. "I'm sorry," he murmured, looking away from you in shame as he lowered himself into his seat.
You closed your eyes, and the breath you hadn't realized you were holding left your chest as you nodded. Still on alert from the rush of adrenaline that had hit you, you realized your hands were trembling against your mug, and you had to take several deep, calming breaths through your nose to steady yourself.
"I'm sorry," he tried again, but you put a hand up to stop him. His mouth flapped open for a moment before he began stammering, "I wouldn't - I would never -"
"You've got a funny way of showing it," you grumbled, but he at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Let's just agree that the next time you feel that kind of anger, you go do a lap outside and calm down instead of making me regret offering up my house for you and your Furby."
"Understood," he agreed solemnly. "I'm sorry, Dorothy. I know that my excuses mean nothing -"
"They do," you stopped him with a sigh. "You both have been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. If our roles were reversed, I wouldn't have handled it as well as you did. I obviously said something that triggered you, so I'm sorry for that," came your offer of amends. "I promise not to bring up cults if you promise not to direct the macho-man-hot-head attitude at me again."
"Deal," he nodded, looking relieved that you weren't throwing him and his green sidekick out on their asses. "Do you need another pinky promise?"
Your lips quirked at the adorable question. "No, I think I can take your word for this one," you answered, and the man nodded, but didn't return your smile.
Silence stretched across the kitchen once again, only this time, it was filled with awkward embarrassment. You could deal with awkward embarrassment over fearing for your life.
You looked around the room while you tried to fill the silence, and your eyes landed on a pad of paper on the kitchen counter.
"Okay, I have an idea," you began, getting up to grab the pad of yellow paper, held together with spirals at the top. It took another minute to dig through the junk drawer for a pen, but once you found the items you were looking for, you returned to the table, where Din and Grogu were watching you with similar expressions of curiosity. You smiled back at them, and as you took your seat again, you declared, "Twenty Questions."
The Din's eyebrows rose as he stared back at you.
"I ask you twenty questions about you and your life, and you answer them," you explained, sipping your hot chocolate. "Maybe I can figure out at least the general vicinity of where you're from," you shrugged. "And I'm going to ask you all those questions again in the morning, and if I get the same answers, then I can probably rule out concussion from my list of concerns."
The man's skeptical face only deepened, but he wasn't saying no…
"Have a cookie," you offered, scooting the plate closer to him. "It will help take that sour look off your face," you snarked with a smile, earning you an eye roll from the man. Still, you didn't back down. You left your hand outstretched with the plate until he sighed and grabbed the smallest cookie available, and then you offered Grogu a fifth. "Twenty questions," you repeated. "If I ask something you are uncomfortable answering, just say pass."
He nodded and took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie, and you had to duck your head to hide your grin at the look of surprise that crossed the man's face. After the cult comment, you decided it was best not to tease him about cookies.
"Okay, question one," you announced, writing the number one on your paper. "What's your name?"
"I already told you," he grumbled before finishing off the cookie.
"I mean your full name," you prodded. "Or is it like a Madonna thing? Just one word? Din," you whispered and wiggled your fingers as your hands slid across the air, making Grogu giggle.
"Pass."
Your hands dropped back to the table at the man's answer, and you leveled an irritated glare at him. When he reached for another cookie, you reached across the table to slap his hand away from the plate.
"Hey," he groused, snapping those soulful, dark brown eyes at you.
You shared a smile with Grogu when he laughed and pointed at his keeper's displeasure. "You can't pass on the name question. That's like… the baseline," you argued, returning your attention to Din again.
He shrugged. "In my religion, we don't share our names with outsiders," he explained, snatching another cookie from the plate, using your surprise as a distraction. "I've already told you my first name, which is more than I've voluntarily shared with anyone in years."
How could someone get through life without telling another soul, even their first name, in years? Still, that was something, at least, you thought, as you wrote "religious" in the margins.
"It's not like you've told me your name either," he countered, taking another bite of the chocolate chip cookie. "I know Dorothy isn't your real name," he continued with a smug look.
Your eyes slid from your paper to the credit cards still on the table in front of the stranger and then to him. "Right… I just assumed you saw it when you saw my credit cards," you answered, nodding at the rectangular pieces of plastic before him.
His brow furrowed again, and he picked up your bank debit card to analyze it. Not the brightest crayon in the box, you thought, as you went back to your list.
"Number two," you continued. "How old are you?"
The man fiddled with your debit card, tapping the corner on the table while he thought. "Thirty-seven? Thirty-eight?"
You refrained from sighing as you looked up from your list to see if he was being serious. "What year were you born?" you tried again.
"Is this question three?" he asked, and you couldn't tell if he was joking.
"It's an offshoot of question two. Consider it question two-point-one. Just trying to narrow down your age."
He hummed before answering with, "Twenty-seven BBY."
This time, you couldn't hold back the sigh you'd been trying to hold in. "Twenty-seven BBY?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. When the man nodded, you asked, "And what year is it now?"
"Ten ABY," he replied. "So, thirty-seven."
Ask a stupid question…
You returned to your paper and wrote: "37 (27 BBY - 10 ABY?)"
"Where are you from?" you continued, ignoring the nonsense he just said.
"Pass."
"Ha!" you said, pointing your pen at him. "You already told me you were from Tython," you reminded him smugly.
"Said I was there before I was here," he corrected with the faintest inkling of a smirk on his face. "Didn't say that's where I was from."
You growled and scratched out Tython. "Number four," you sighed, "relationship status?"
"None."
"None?" you asked, with a blank face. "Like you're not currently in one? Or like never been in one?"
"None," he repeated.
"None," you growled, digging the pen into the paper harder. "Do you have any kids?"
"Just the Foundling," he answered, nodding to the green creature sitting beside him in the booster chair.
You wanted to scold the man for his continued use of nonsensical words, but you suddenly became distracted as you watched him lick the cookie crumbs from his lips. When his dark eyes settled on you, you jolted out of your daydreams and returned to the present.
"And Grogu is a Foundling?" you asked slowly, looking at the strange green creature, who was grinning back at you after hearing you say his name. "I'm sorry, is a Foundling like what his species is?"
"I don't know what his species is," Din replied with a shrug. "We were on Tython so he could sit on a magic rock to see if he could try to communicate with a Jedi so I could reunite him with his people."
You stared back at the tanned-skinned man, dumbstruck, your mouth dropping in shock. What did the man even say? And how were you supposed to respond to any of that?
"What about you?" Din asked as he took his first sip of hot chocolate.
"Me?" you repeated dumbly, still trying to figure out what the hell a Jedi was.
"How many kids do you have?" At your vacant look, the man continued. "There is a crib in the room you put me up in, and," he paused to point at the blue, Bluey shirt you'd dressed Grogu in after his bath.
"Oh," you breathed, shaking your head as you fiddled with your mug. "I have zero kids of my own, but my best friend and her daughter live here with me, so that's why I have all the kid stuff," you explained, and the man nodded along. "They are out of town visiting the devil in South Carolina." At Din's surprised face, you realized your faux pas. "Sorry, she had to go visit her mother, but they'll be back next weekend."
Din smirked, making you relax at the tiny dimple that formed in his cheek from his mild amusement. "Not a fan of her mother?"
"God no," you rushed out. "Cass despises her, too, but she's still family, I guess. The devil nickname made more sense when she moved to Georgia," you said quietly, but the man just stared at you, face blank from not understanding the "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" reference.
Silence spanned across the table, and your eyes flicked from your pad of notes to the stranger. Din's eyes and his entire posture seemed just as uncomfortable as you did. You tapped your pen against the paper, attempting to return to your game of Twenty Questions, but were finding it difficult to stay on task.
How could you, when the guy - Din - you kept reminding yourself, turned to give Grogu a soft, caring smile and reached to give him a comforting pat between his ears. It was possibly one of the kindest, most adorable moments you'd ever witnessed.
And then Din's attention returned to you, catching you watching his interaction with his strangely adorable goblin, forcing a blush to creep up your neck and into your cheeks.
"So," you breathed, looking down at your pad of paper to avoid meeting his intense brown eyes. "Next question… Ummm… Oh! I have an easy one. What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a bounty hunter."
Your mouth dropped open at his quick response. "What, seriously?" A bounty hunter? This whole day keeps getting stranger and stranger. "Like, you go find people who have skipped bail, or have warrants out for their arrest?"
"More or less," he said, nodding and leaning back in his chair to cross his arms over his expansive chest.
All you could do was write down his answer and return to your list of questions.
Ten minutes later, you stared at the list, feeling just as confused about the stranger as you were before you started your little game of twenty questions. The faded yellow pad with your handwriting swam before you.
"So, Dorothy, where am I from?" Din asked, and you glared at the smug look on his face. "I already told you -"
"I know what you told me," you interrupted, slamming the spiral down on the table harder than you intended. Despite the jet pack and the hologram of the galaxy, Grogu, and the absolutely nonsensical answers he gave, there was no way the man was actually from outer space. Although the fact that he had to ask who Taylor Swift was did raise some flags…
Your eyes fell to the pile of "credits" the man had dropped before your game of twenty questions, and you fiddled with one of the metal pieces.
"Imperial," he commented, startling you. When you gave him a look of not understanding, he nodded at the metal you were tinkering with. "That's an Imperial credit."
You stared into the man's brown eyes and couldn't find any sign that he was trying to deceive you. You'd developed a sixth sense of sorts about people lying from working at the ER, but this man was giving you nothing.
With a sigh, you tore the list of questions out of the spiral and stood up, grabbing the Imperial credit and Calamari Flan in your other hand. "It's been a day. Let's try to get some sleep," you suggested. "Maybe I can figure out how to get you to NASA or something after some coffee in the morning."
"Dorothy," he stopped you, and you rolled your eyes at the fake name, but your sarcastic comeback died on your lips when you saw those brown eyes staring nervously back at you. "Tomorrow… can we… can we look for my helmet?" he asked quietly. "It fell off when I landed, so it has to be close by, but I didn't see it on the road to your house."
"Sure," you murmured. "We can look, but if the tornado picked it up, there's no telling where it ended up, but we can take a look." His face fell at your response, and you instinctively reached out to rest your hand on his shoulder. "Hey, maybe we'll get lucky, and it's just out in the field or something," you tried.
He nodded as he rose from the kitchen table, and you let your hand slide from his shoulder, noting the flash of hurt on his face as he reached to pull Grogu from his booster seat.
"Your helmet…" You began and then faded off when his eyes locked on yours. "Um, when you woke up this morning, you panicked that you weren't wearing it," you commented softly. "Is it important? I mean… does it mean something to you?"
"Yes," his answer was heavy with everything he wasn't saying. "It's a part of my religion," he elaborated slightly, which was probably the most he had ever expanded on any of your earlier twenty-something questions.
Your mouth formed an O at his answer. Surprisingly, the man continued without being prompted.
"No one is meant to see my face," he continued, his voice returning to the gritty, tortured voice you heard earlier.
Oh, definitely a cult, you thought, but kept that to yourself. It didn't matter. The helmet was important to this stranger. That's all that mattered.
"But… I'm looking at your face now," you whispered. "What does that mean for your religion?"
The man's face turned away from yours as he answered, "It means I'm no longer a Mandalorian."
The words meant nothing to you, but very obviously meant everything to him. Even Grogu's ears lowered at the man's words, and he snuggled further into his chest.
"I'm sorry," you murmured, reaching out to give his forearm a brief squeeze, unsure of what else to do.
He nodded and headed toward the stairs leading up to the second story of your home. You followed close behind, churning over the day's events as you went up the stairs, turning off the lights along the way.
Once you made it to the second floor, your guest carried on to the spare bedroom at the end of the hall, opposite yours, and you hovered your hand over the doorknob, giving him one last assessing look.
"Goodnight, Spaceman," you murmured, giving the man a soft smile as you opened your bedroom door.
The man paused at the threshold to his temporary room, looking back at you with Grogu nestled in his arms. "Goodnight, Dorothy," he replied before stepping into the room and closing the door softly behind him.
You followed suit, shutting the door silently and turning the lock on the handle just in case.
You emptied your pockets of the folded list and… credits you'd stowed away, staring at the strange alleged currency as you walked to your dresser. With an exhausted sigh, you let the contents of your pockets rest on the dresser as you picked up a pen from your stash that kept ending up in your scrub pockets and added one last word to the bottom of the paper.
Mandalorian
🌪️ A/N: Next stop... WALMART
Totally loving all of your comments and guesses. This story has been a blast to write, and a nice way to dissociate from reality for a bit. I've got plans for Din and Grogu to experience a variety of Earth-type/rural America scenarios, but if anyone wants to throw out a suggestion, if it fits with the story, then I'll try and work it in 🧡
Until next time, friends.
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
🧡 Tag List: @racheldon @leeroyjagginz @djarins-cyare @higgsvoidout @abandonedreaper @brunloccPlease drop a comment or send me a message if you'd like to be added to the tag list 🧡
Country Roads Masterlist
Next chapter in series - Chapter 5: Losing My Religion
Chapter Summary: Din Djarin and his clan of three reunite with Paz Vizsla and his Covert, while the green armor they've been holding onto is finally reunited with its owner.
Word Count: 13,270
Author's Note/Chapter Warnings: Happy ✨TWO-YEAR ANNIVERSARY✨ to Heaven in Hiding 🥳 And we're finally back! The muse *may* have gotten a little carried away with a new story that I posted about a month ago called Country Roads, but we have now returned to our first love. Not sure how posting two stories simultaneously is going to go, but I PROMISE this one is going to get finished... eventually 😅 So, without further ado, may I present the beginning to the end...
MINORS - DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY
🎵Chapter Soundtrack🎵 "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" - Death Cab for Cutie
Cover art by: @roughdaysandart
Chapter 45: The Reunion
“Meet your cousin. Alaina.”
Green eyes locked with the blue helmet that was staring intently back at her as the silence stretched across the substrata.
Din Djarin held his breath, waiting for one of them to say something, but the longer the silence stretched on, he prepared himself to continue introductions until his former pseudo-brother or his wife could finally wrap their minds around this moment.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait very long before Paz decided to be the first to break the silence. “I see you’ve inherited your mother’s… abilities,” he grumbled, attempting to hide the subtle stretching of his back as he spoke.
And then some, Din thought, his smirk matching Alaina’s at the comment, but both remained quiet while the man continued his inspection of the petite woman standing before him.
“You were a child the last time I saw you,” he commented as if trying to process the moment just as much as Alaina was, based on her stunned silence. “I don’t think you’ve grown any since then.”
“Hey!” came Alaina’s immediate, indignant response, bristling at Paz’s dig about her height. “I’m only like an inch shorter than my mother was!”
A low hum came from the man, and he smirked as Alaina narrowed her eyes at the blue armored man, as if daring her to make another jab about her height. But then the man said something that made her soften. “Iliana always seemed taller to me,” Paz replied as his helmet continued to examine her.
Din relaxed as he watched Alaina’s ire dissipate at Paz’s comment, picking up on the subtle implication of his words.
“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “I guess she always used to have that effect on me, too.”
Paz’s blue helmet twitched. “You speak in the past tense… Has Iliana passed?”
“Yeah,” Alaina confirmed with a sad nod. “Almost ten years ago now, I guess,” she commented sadly.
Unable to stop himself, Din reached for Alaina, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. If Paz noticed the brief display of affection, he thankfully didn’t comment on it.
Din was already preparing himself for another tackle from the larger man once the truth of his relationship with Alaina was revealed. It wasn’t that he wanted to hide that piece of information from the man who had been like a brother to him growing up, but if it didn’t come out today, then Din decided he would be more than fine with that.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Paz murmured, lowering his helmet in a show of respect. “I only had the honor of meeting your mother twice,” he continued, standing back up straight before continuing, “but she had a presence about her that was undeniable.”
Alaina’s face melted into a soft smile at the man’s kind words.
A quiet huff escaped from Paz’s helmet, and the other Mandalorian slowly shook his head. “Your mother was right,” he began before stopping to clear his throat. “You have your father’s smile.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears at the comment, and she looked to Din, who gave her a small nod of encouragement. “Um, hi,” she laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Alaina,” she introduced with an outstretched hand. “Alaina Corra.”
“Paz,” the other man said gruffly, sounding like he was struggling with his own emotions. “Paz Vizsla,” he greeted, accepting her offered hand with his larger gloved one. “Welcome home, Alaina Corra,” he said quietly before pulling her in for a short, awkward embrace.
Din’s heart swelled at watching the tender moment unfold, finding it difficult to keep his eyes from watering as Alaina responded to Paz’s embrace. She wrapped her arms around the other man’s middle, giving him a quick, tight hug before pulling away to wipe the tears from her own eyes.
“Thank you,” she rasped once she was able to form words again. “Although,” she chuckled, wiping one last tear from her eye before revealing, “I suppose it’s technically Din Alaina Corra now.”
Well, so much for pushing that bit of information for another day, Din thought with a gulp.
The larger man seemed to freeze at her admission, and Alaina turned to give Din a questioning look.
Only, Din was suddenly a pre-teen again, remembering every fight, every tackle, every punch his sponsor’s son gave him until Din finally learned to fight back. He hadn’t even realized that he had slowly moved to put his five-foot-three-tall wife between him and Paz until he caught Alaina’s amused emerald eyes glittering back at him.
“You married my cousin?!” Paz barked, making the entire Din family jump at how the man’s voice bellowed around them.
Din grabbed Alaina’s shoulders, keeping his human shield firmly in place. “I didn’t know she was your cousin!” Din defended quickly. “I mean, when we got married, we had figured everything out by then, but I didn’t find out who her father was for months after we met.”
Paz’s helmet stayed locked on his, and Din hoped that he wouldn’t get completely flattened. Again.
“Years,” Alaina corrected, making Paz’s helmet snap to the blonde, and forcing a groan from her husband. “I mean, technically, the first time we met was when you were hunting me—” Din cut her off by firmly slapping a gloved hand over her mouth.
Unfortunately, it was too little too late.
Paz’s helmet locked back on Din. “You took a bounty on my cousin?!”
Din struggled to keep Alaina in his grasp, but the spry woman finally wormed her way out of his grasp to shoot him an irritated glare while he tried to defend himself. “Do you think I would have taken the puck if I had known she was your cousin—”
“But then he rescued me like five years later!” Alaina interrupted when her cousin took a step closer. “And it was months from that second run-in before he discovered how we all connected. Me, on the other hand, well, I didn’t even know what a Mandalorian was before I found out there was one looking for me,” she finished with a smile, making Din shake his head.
“How could you not know what a Mandalorian was?” Paz ground out, reluctantly turning his seething gaze from Din to direct his helmet at her.
Alaina’s eyebrows raised in challenge at the question. “Probably because someone showed up in the middle of the night when I was a baby to tell my mother that not only had my father died, but that she had until sunrise to pack up as much of our belongings as she could and go into hiding for what both of my parents were,” Alaina shot back, crossing her arms over her chest as if daring Paz to argue with her.
Paz was silent as he stared them down, but his displeasure radiated off of him in waves. “You really married him?” he asked, leveling a look at his younger, silver armored brother-in-arms.
Alaina took a step back so she was standing beside Din and gifted him with a soft smile as she grabbed his left arm to display their matching wedding bangles, his over his glove, almost blending seamlessly with his vambrace, while hers dangled over the long sleeve of her green sweater. “Yup,” she confirmed with a smile. “And this is our son, Grogu,” she introduced, nodding to the green toddler strapped to her chest, looking up at the towering Mandalorian in blue with his overly large bug eyes.
With Alaina’s hand in his, he shifted to entwine their fingers together, allowing himself to relax as they now stood before Paz as a united front.
Paz remained quiet, likely attempting to wrap his mind around the onslaught of new information that had been dropped on him like a ton of beskar ingots. Finally, after a long, awkward stretch, the man let out a sigh of begrudging acceptance, and Alaina gave Din’s hand a victorious squeeze.
“He always wanted to be a Vizsla,” Paz announced with an audible sigh, and Din cocked his helmet at the dig. “I guess he finally got his wish,” he grumbled, sliding his helmet to give Din one last glare before bringing a friendly arm over Alaina’s shoulder, unbothered by the staff in the way, to guide her further down the platform. “Come, ad’ika,” his deep voice ordered as they began walking. “Let me try to remember some of my little brother’s more embarrassing stories from his childhood.”
Alaina’s giggle covered the quiet scoff that he let slip, and when she turned back to give him a teasing smile, he just shook his helmet back as he trudged behind them.
“The more embarrassing the better,” she told Paz, giving him a little wink.
Din had to restrain himself from releasing his internal groan at the thought of the kind of stories Paz could reveal. There was one particular story from when they were in the fighting corps together, where Din had to sprint through the barracks wearing only his helmet because the overly muscled mudscuffer stole his clothes and armor while he was in the showers, which he would prefer to stay dead and buried.
“Any embarrassing stories he comes up with were probably his fault,” Din grumped as he caught back up with them.
“Now, now,” Alaina tutted, giving her cousin’s hand a pat until his steps slowed and he lifted his arm from her shoulder, allowing her to go to her husband. “You have read a handful of embarrassing stories about me from my mother’s diaries. This is only fair,” she teased, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his beskar cheek.
Paz’s helmet watched their brief display of affection, but remained silent. When Alaina grabbed Din’s hand again, the three stood in the middle of the platform on top of a short staircase of ten or so stairs before they reached the end, where he assumed the forge was based on how the clanging sound slowly increased the further they walked.
Din fidgeted under Paz’s scrutiny, but now that the initial introductions were behind them, he had no intention of letting the man continue to intimidate him.
“I didn’t know if I would ever see you again,” Paz said quietly, tipping his helmet slightly in Din’s direction.
He relaxed at Paz’s words because it didn’t matter what had happened in their pasts. At the end of the day, they were still, and always would be, brothers.
Alaina nudged him with her elbow and attempted to not-so-inconspicuously point to Paz with her green eyes. “Just say I missed you, too, brother,” she whispered into the side of his helm, making Grogu giggle.
Din straightened slightly as he cleared his throat before offering Paz his arm. “Thank you for saving us on Nevarro.”
There was a quiet, but still audible, intake of surprise from the Mandalorian in blue. “The girl and the child,” Paz whispered in surprise, apparently not making the connection before now. His blue helmet dropped to look down at Alaina, completely ignoring Din’s hand. “That was you.”
Alaina rested a hand on top of Grogu’s head and nodded. “Thank you for your aid,” came her quiet and sincere response. “We never would have made it out safely without your help. I’m sorry your people had to sacrifice so much because of it.”
Din could still remember that night as if it were yesterday.
How he hoped that his haphazardly put together plan of sneaking her mother’s dagger back to her in her old dancing slippers would be enough to allow her to put the pieces together that he would be returning for her. That, and hoping she wouldn’t stab him in the heart with her beskar dagger when he did come to rescue her and the Child. He could still remember her broken green eyes as she told him to take the Child and leave her. He could still remember the weight of her hand as it slid into his glove before he pulled her up and forced her to run barefoot across the city to make it to the Razor Crest under the cover of the other Mandalorians who had come to their brother-in-arms’ side.
Years had passed since that moment, and now they were reunited with one of those Mandalorians who had come to their aid. One of those Mandalorians who was the very one he had grown up with, and unbeknownst to either of them at the time, happened to be Alaina Corra’s own flesh and blood.
Paz nodded at her before he corrected her with, “Our people,” before turning to grab Din’s forearm. “And now there are five of us with the arrival of your clan.”
Guilt flooded him at Paz’s comment, and he gripped his brother’s forearm, not wanting to believe his implications.
Five…
“Are we all that’s left of our covert?” came Din’s quiet, distressed question, and Alaina came to loop her arm through his free one and leaned into his side to offer her silent support.
“No,” a new, commanding voice echoed from the end of the platform at the bottom of the staircase.
Din and Paz released their grip on each other’s forearms at the sound of the new voice, and the three of them turned to look down at the end of the platform. Alaina clutched his bicep a fraction tighter at the sight of the Armorer dressed in her standard gold helmet and furs, standing proudly with her hammer.
“I’m guessing that’s the Armorer?” Alaina whispered to her husband, and Din confirmed her guess with a nod.
With a deep breath, Din moved to rest his hand on the small of her back, nestled between her and her staff as he guided her down the stairs toward the regal-looking woman.
“There are others,” the Armorer continued as they approached the forge. “We have been using Glavis as a base, while some of our covert are scouting for our lost brethren, and others are looking for a new planet to settle on.”
He could feel the undercurrent of anxiety emanating from his wife, and caught her attempting to discreetly wipe her palms on her trousers as they approached the forge at the end of the platform.
“Armorer,” Paz began as they came to a stop before her. “Din Djarin has returned with his clan,” he announced before taking a step back to let her meet them.
“It would seem that you are now a clan of three,” she stated, gold helmet stopping on Alaina, taking her in from head to toe.
Din nodded, turning his helmet to give a quick look to Alaina before returning his attention to the Armorer. “We always have been a clan of three,” he announced, standing a little straighter.
The gold, horned helmet tilted curiously at Din’s words. “I thought you said the one to whom the beskar dagger belonged sacrificed herself?”
“Oh, she did,” Alaina answered before immediately clamping her mouth shut in embarrassment. “I mean, I tried,” she corrected, looking to him for help, but Din could only stand there, pursing his lips to keep from laughing at his wife as she continued to fumble over her words. Personally, he found her rambling endearing, but he supposed that he should be lucky that it was this rambling Alaina the Armorer was meeting, and not the black-eyed one who preferred to speak in riddles and took an immeasurable amount of joy from tossing him like a doll across rooms. “I mean, if we’re being technical, I actually did die. Twice—Not that it matters—” she abruptly cut herself off again with a sigh and a pleading look to Din to say something to make her stop blabbering. ”How about I start over? Hi,” she finally managed to stop herself, and sent a sharp elbow into Din’s side when he lost the internal struggle to keep his snickering at bay. “Alaina,” she introduced, offering her hand.
The Armorer stared at the hand, but when she made no move to accept it, Alaina withdrew it slowly and finished it with an awkward wave.
An amused, muted chortle came from the blue armored Mandalorian standing on Alaina’s other side. “Of all of the traits you could have inherited from your father, you just had to get his tendency to blather,” Paz muttered.
Alaina’s face flushed from embarrassment and settled into a scowl, but she was stopped from arguing with the other man when the Armorer stepped in.
“Father?”
Paz nodded, and Din pulled his hand from the small of Alaina’s back to grab her hand, letting his thumb rub soothing patterns against hers when she returned his grip with a nervous, crushing one of her own. “Alaina is the daughter of Raivi Vizsla,” Paz explained, drawing the Armorer’s attention back to his wife.
“Your uncle?” she questioned as if she didn’t believe it herself. “The one who wed the disgraced Jedi?”
Din winced at the Armorer’s choice of wording and braced himself for Alaina’s impending defense of her mother.
“She wasn’t disgraced,” Alaina snapped, steeling herself when all eyes were now directed on her. “She wasn’t,” she defended, tilting her chin ever so slightly up, silently challenging anyone to argue with her, making a tiny blossom of pride form in his chest. “But, yes, Iliana Corra was my mother,” she confirmed quietly, and Din squeezed her hand in his as her face slowly began to look as if she were in trouble, the longer the Armorer’s gold helmet stared her down.
Thankfully, her knee-jerk defensive comment didn’t appear to deter the Armorer from engaging with the blonde further. “I thought I recognized the craftsmanship of your dagger,” the Armorer began, nodding at her mother’s dagger in its spot in her holster.
Alaina blinked as her hand reluctantly released his to rest on the serpentine hilt. When her emerald eyes looked to him, he gave her a subtle nod and watched as Alaina slowly unsheathed the dagger and offered it to the woman across from her.
The Armorer nodded her thanks before extracting the dagger to examine the emerald-eyed fanned rawl for herself. “This was made using the ancient forge on Mandalore,” she explained, as her gloved fingers ghosted over the scales. “It’s made from a higher quality of beskar that had been coveted by the Vizsla Clan since Mandalore’s ancient times. The scales are intricate, crafted with a patient, steady hand. The Armorer who crafted this blade had a particular gift for capturing animal details,” she explained as her thumb rubbed over one of the fanned rawl’s emerald eyes.
“My mother was from Naboo,” Alaina explained quietly. “The fanned rawl was something that connected both of their worlds.”
“And now it belongs to their daughter, who walks both of their worlds,” the Armorer said as she handed the dagger back to its new owner. “I assume it was you who was able to push Paz to the edge using your powers?”
“Um, yes,” Alaina acknowledged nervously with a nod of her head. “Sorry about that, by the way,” she whispered to the larger Mandalorian to her left.
Paz brushed her off with a wave and a scoff. “It will take more than some Jedi magic to hurt me,” he countered, forcing Alaina to suppress a sly smirk.
Din had a helmet, so he didn’t need to hide his smile at Paz’s comment. He had been secretly waiting for the opportunity to introduce Me’suum’ika to his pseudo-brother, and was willing to goad the black-eyed menace out if needed just so he could watch her continue to show Paz just how strong his younger cousin actually was.
“Where did you come upon the beskar spear?” The Armorer asked, pulling Din from his daydreams of Paz being chucked effortlessly over the railing by Alaina. When he was able to focus, he saw that the Armorer was now eying the silver spear strapped to Alaina’s back.
“It was the gift of a Jedi we came across in our travels,” he explained, when Alaina seemed to be uncertain answering, no doubt struggling with just how much, and what of their story, he was ready to tell his tribe. “Alaina has become rather skilled with it,” he praised, earning him a pleased smile from his wife. “It has also come in handy when she practices forms and drills with her mother’s lightsaber.
The Armorer’s helmet dropped to said saber, dangling from her belt before looking back between the two of them. “It can also pierce beskar armor,” she explained bitterly. “Its mere existence puts Mandalorians at risk. Mandalorian steel is meant for armor, not weapons.”
Alaina frowned at the Armorer’s words as she looked at the dagger in her hands. “Why would my father have made this if it wasn’t allowed?” she asked, looking to Din before turning to the Armorer.
“Just because it is not meant for weapons, doesn’t mean it is not allowed,” came the Armorer’s cryptic response.
“Your father was considered… contrary by our Elders,” Paz revealed with a shrug. “My father didn’t approve of him having the dagger made either. However, I believe most of his disapproval came from who my uncle gave the last of his portion of the family beskar to. It’s all my father would rant about for a year,” he snorted.
Din frowned at Paz’s recollection of the past. From Alaina’s mother’s diary, he learned that Kresh discovered his younger brother had given his betrothed the last of his portion of the Vizsla clan’s beskar right before Rav took Kresh’s place to go to Aq Vetina. Din had been too inside his head after Rav had left him behind on Concordia with his older brother that he had been oblivious to his new sponsor’s angry tirades about Rav’s actions. All Din knew was that there was an unmistakable tension between the two whenever Rav would return to Concordia.
“When I had the opportunity to ask Rav why he would do such a foolish thing, your father looked at me and said, ‘I know it’s true love because she has the ability to kill me in my bed, decapitate me with her lightsaber, or stab me in the heart through my beskar with her dagger, and so far, she hasn’t done any of those.’” Alaina and Din shared a smile at the new story, and Paz nodded. “Rav trusted her,” he added. “To him, that was just as rare as true love.”
A longing pang echoed in his chest, and as he watched Alaina wistfully smile at her mother’s serpentine dagger, he realized that the pang he felt was both his own and Alaina’s pain at knowing they were deprived of the father-figure they had both missed.
“The lightsaber belonged to your mother?” the Armorer questioned, and Alaina nodded, taking a deep breath as she tucked her dagger back inside her belt. “Then it is a more noble weapon for you to wield. Fitting for you to have a weapon from each of the worlds you walk.”
Her lips pursed as she realized the Armorer’s implications and looked to Din as her hand reached back to grab the staff. He saw the hesitation in her emerald eyes as her fingers hovered over the silver staff. It wasn’t just about having a weapon of her own. That staff had become her safety net after Din proved to her that her mother’s laser sword wouldn’t damage it. She may still be left with something from each parent, but neither weapon offered her the comfort and security she felt while working with the beskar staff.
At Din’s subtle nod, Alaina gripped the staff and pulled it from its place tucked into the back of her belt. “Of course,” came her quiet words of reluctant acceptance. Her knuckles turned white from gripping her preferred weapon as she passed it to the armor.
And just like that, they both watched as the final safety net in her laser sword training vanished.
Din’s hand grabbed hers, giving her a show of comfort with a squeeze and a gentle, warm tug through their bond that made her give him a faint smile. “I know you like your staff, Tranyc. We will find you another one. The Armorer can use the beskar from that spear to make more armor that we can give to the foundlings, or others who need damaged pieces of theirs replaced or fixed.”
“This is the way,” the Armorer interjected, giving them a nod of her gold helmet.
Alaina released a slow breath through her nose and gave him a strained smile that he saw straight through. Din gripped her hand tighter, giving her all of the comfort he could through their bond. When Alaina nodded, he knew that it would take some time for her to come around to not having her trusted spear, but he hoped that she would eventually take to the new challenge with her normal stride and become comfortable continuing to train with her mother’s lightsaber.
“Speaking of damaged pieces,” the Armorer drawled, breaking the bubble that had formed around them as their attention returned to her. “I thought we refitted you with a new set?” the gold-helmeted Mandalorian questioned, nodding to Din’s left hand, which was currently holding Alaina’s right.
“You did,” Din confirmed with a slow, confused nod.
Alaina nudged him with her shoulder and gave him a soft smile. “I think she’s talking about the extra bit of silver you’ve got there,” Alaina whispered, raising her left arm with its matching piece.
“Ah,” Din chuffed, slightly embarrassed.
“Am I to assume that by announcing that Din Djarin had arrived with his clan, that his clan now includes his riduur and foundling?” the Armorer asked as she began to melt down the spear over the forge.
“Riduur?” Alaina whispered quietly, searching his helmet with her doe eyes.
Din nodded, “Spouse,” he translated quietly before returning to the Armorer. “Yes,” he confirmed, gripping Alaina’s hand tightly in his. “Alaina and I wed, and we performed the adoption ceremony with Grogu almost a year and a half ago now.”
His wife rolled her eyes, but her annoyance was belayed by the amused smile forming on her face. When she let out a quiet, disbelieving huff, Din cocked his helmet back at her, silently asking her what she found so funny.
“Arvala-7,” she explained, still shaking her head at him. “Before we returned to Nevarro, you told me if something happened to you, to find your covert in the sewers, show them your necklace, and tell them I was your riduur,” she finished with a pointed look. Din smirked back at her, realizing what she was implying. “You told me that riduur meant partner,” she reminded him, squeezing his hand back.
“It also means partner,” he defended, unable to keep the teasing lilt from his voice when she quirked her eyebrow at him.
“You were really gonna send me to your people, telling them I was your spouse, when we weren’t even married?” she scoffed, giving his shoulder a playful bump with hers.
“I thought you already considered us as a boring old married couple?” he teased back, relishing in the warmth that flooded his chest and heart.
“Then we will celebrate the clan of Din Djarin,” the Armorer declared with a nod, breaking their playful bubble. “I will forge something for the new clan with some of the extra meltings.”
“Thank you,” Din said with a bow of his head, and Alaina joined him. “We would be honored.”
“Yes,” Alaina murmured. “Thank you,” she repeated. When her green eyes returned to him, she asked, “So, how do Mandalorians celebrate a wedding that’s already happened?”
Din shrugged and responded with a whispered, “As long as we can recreate the wedding night, I’m not really sure I care.”
Immediately after his comment, Din and Alaina were suddenly forced apart, and he rolled his eyes when he saw Paz now standing between them.
“I don’t want to hear you speak to my cousin like that in my presence,” he snarled, and Din couldn’t help but smile when he heard Alaina’s bubbly laugh from behind the wall of blue armor blocking them. Paz then turned his back to his brother so that he could focus on Alaina. “Let’s sit,” he suggested before guiding his wife to sit on the platform's small staircase that led to the forge.
“Are you skilled with your mother's saber?” Paz questioned her once they took their respective seats.
Alaina shook her head. “Not really,” she answered quietly as she removed Grogu from the carrier she had sewn for him out of one of his old cloaks. “Weapons are a new experience to me since meeting Din.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Din cut in, sticking a boot out to stop the kid from toppling down the stairs. “She’s a fast learner. She thinks she needs to be perfect with it before she uses it.”
“Yes, silly me and my anxiety over anyone in our family losing any more limbs,” came her sarcastic retort.
Din snorted at the comment, sharing a smile with his wife as they watched their son try to climb over his boot so he could play on the staircase.
“Now that you are here, we will continue your training with your mother’s saber,” Paz announced, with no comment on the loss of limbs. “Your riduur and I will be dressed in beskar. If he can’t get out of the way in time, he deserves to lose a limb,” the man snarked with a nod toward her husband.
Alaina cringed before she opened her mouth to undoubtedly beg off the suggestion when Paz said something that grabbed both of their attention.
“You should embrace your mother’s saber. Even though Iliana was a Jedi, it is an honor to be able to pass weapons down to the next generation,” he continued. “And despite my father’s beliefs, I think that he sometimes forgot that the Vizsla Clan also used to possess a saber.”
“Really?” she asked, perking up at that comment. Alaina’s green eyes looked to him, but Din could only shrug back because this was the first he had heard this as well. “Was there a Jedi in your family?”
“Yes,” Paz confirmed with a nod
Din’s forehead furrowed at the new information. “You never told me that,” he accused, stopping his pacing to give Paz his full attention.
Unfazed by the adults’ discussion, Grogu looked up from his spot sitting on Din’s boot and squawked at his father to continue letting him ride his leather boot as he paced.
“Our ancestor, Tarre Vizsla, was the Mand’alor over one thousand years ago,” Paz said to Alaina before turning his attention to Din, “He was, and still is, the only Mandalorian known to be a Jedi,” he revealed before slowly returning his helmet to Alaina sitting beside him. “At least until now.”
Alaina let out a snort at her cousin’s implications. “I think our ancestor can still be the only one to claim that title,” she told him with a shrug. “I’m not sure I can be called a Jedi if I was never trained as one, just like I’m not sure I can call myself a Mandalorian because I’ve never taken the Creed.”
Silence settled over the small group as Din went to sit on the lowest step in front of Alaina and watched as Grogu climbed the stairs, selecting Paz as his next victim as he attempted to climb up the older man’s boots now. The older Mandalorian watched the womp rat struggle for a couple of moments before gently reaching to pick him up under his armpits. A fond smile crossed Din’s face to watch Paz bring the toddler closer to his helmet to inspect him.
“What is it?” Paz questioned, and when his blue helmet tilted, Grogu’s head tilted with it.
“Your nephew,” Din quipped, smirking when Paz’s helmet silently turned to level what he was sure was a glare at Din’s answer.
“Mama mentioned this Tarre Vizsla in one of her journal entries,” Alaina said, pulling her cousin’s attention away from Grogu. “She wrote that I was the descendant of the great Tarre Vizsla,” she recounted, looking to Paz for an explanation.
Paz nodded. “Tarre Vizsla was the Mand’alor.”
“Mand’alor?” Alaina asked, brows creasing in confusion as she turned to Din for his translation, but the Armorer beat him to it.
“The leader of all of Mandalore,” the Armorer explained from the forge as she began melting down Alaina’s cherished spear. “Tarre Vizsla was the supreme leader of the Mandalorians.”
“Supreme leader?” Alaina asked, looking between Paz and Din. “Like a King?” she whispered in disbelief, jaw dropping when Paz nodded, confirming her question. With her mouth agape, she turned to Din, a slow smile forming on her face. “Iris is gonna be so pissed to find out she isn’t the only one out of the three of us who is royalty,” she finished, sharing an amused snicker with her husband.
“Being the Mand’alor isn’t a title passed by blood,” the Armorer informed her, stopping her work at the forge to fix Alaina with her gold helmet. “It is a title that is won by battle.”
“Our ancestor created a weapon called the Darksaber,” Paz cut in, and Din couldn’t help but notice how he tensed under his armor as he spoke. “Whoever is in possession of the Darksaber can claim the title of Mand’alor.”
“If it is won by Creed in battle,” the Armorer corrected him. “The legend says that if one warrior wins it by combat, that warrior will defeat 20, and the multitudes will fall before it. If, however, it is not won in combat and falls into the hands of the undeserving, it will be a curse unto the nation. Mandalore will be laid to waste and its people scattered to the four winds.”
Din looked around the substrata, wondering which of the four winds led their tiny covert here.
“Darksaber…” Alaina started, tapering off as her head dropped to her mother’s lightsaber that was attached to her hip. “Is that, like, the Mandalorian version of a lightsaber?”
“Tarre Vizsla forged his own lightsaber on the same forge that was used to create your dagger a thousand years later,” the Armorer informed her, nodding to the fanned rawl hilt peeking out. “It was given its name because of its distinctive blade.”
“So… Seeing as how Din never said anything and none of my mother’s journal entries commented about my father growing up in a royal family, I’m guessing that your, or I suppose, our family lost it at some point?” Alaina guessed.
A deep growl emerged from Paz’s helmet, and he placed Grogu on the stairs between his parents.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Alaina deadpanned, grabbing Grogu by the back of his shirt before he fell down the stairs on his way back to Din’s boots. “So who is the new Mand’alor?” came Alaina’s innocent question, but only silence answered her. “Oh,” she whispered, cringing when she realized she must have said an inadvertent faux pas. “Sorry, this is all new to me,” she apologized, and Din leaned back against her legs.
He smiled when he felt one of Alaina’s hands casually over his shoulder while Grogu crawled up his leg. He shook his head at the kid’s antics and stretched his leg out, letting the kid’s squeals echo around the substrata as he enjoyed being lifted up and gently waved in the air while he clung to his father’s leg.
“Once the Darksaber has been taken, can it be won back?” Alaina asked.
This is how it was meant to be. Reunited with his covert.
His wife and child were by his side.
“Yes,” came Paz’s clipped response.
A casual afternoon spent enjoying the company of his tribe, introducing them to his family.
Din Djarin felt unstoppable.
“Have you… I don’t know, ever thought about challenging whoever has it now?” she asked as her fingers drew patterns on Din’s chest. “Or do you not know who has it—”
“Gideon,” Paz growled.
Correction: Din Djarin had felt unstoppable.
Din’s boot dropped dramatically onto the durasteel ground at Paz’s revelation, and he had to lurch forward to grab Grogu by the scruff of his shirt to keep him from toppling over from the impact. With Grogu still scruffed by his glove, Din’s helmet shot back to find Alaina just as equally shocked as he was to hear that name come from the man.
Pale-faced and mouth agape, Alaina’s head slowly turned to look at her cousin. “When you say, Gideon…” she began, casting her emerald eyes back to him when she couldn’t come up with the words.
“You don’t mean the same Gideon, who also happens to be a Moff in the Empire, right?” Din finished for her.
Paz’s helmet tilted at them, but he nodded to confirm they were talking about the same karking Gideon. “Have your paths crossed?”
“Once or twice,” Alaina mumbled, making Paz’s helmet tilt further.
“Then consider yourself lucky to still be alive,” Paz finally settled on before leaning back on his elbows. “He deserves death for his atrocities against our people.”
“This is true,” the Armorer agreed, leaving her forge to come stand at the base of the stairs. “The blood of millions of our kind is on his hands.”
Din and Alaina continued to stare dumbly at one another before she turned her attention to the other two Mandalorians.
“Um,” she began, pausing to gather her thoughts. “And this, Darksaber you spoke of, forged by your—our,” she corrected, “ancestor… It doesn’t—I mean, a friend told me that lightsabers come in different colors. For instance, my mom’s is yellow… The Darksaber doesn’t happen to be… oh, I don’t know… black with like these little white accents?”
“Yes,” the Armorer confirmed, tilting her head curiously when Alaina covered her mouth with her hand. “The blade is also flatter than the traditional lightsabers the Jedi tend to favor,” she explained, looking between the two of them, clearly confused by Alaina’s actions.
“And,” Alaina tried to start, but had to stop to smother her laughter from escaping. She moved the hand that had just been drawing patterns over his chest piece to painfully grip the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized once she managed to rein in her laughter. “I’m just trying to understand. So, Moff Gideon is in possession of the Darksaber,” she recounted slowly, waiting until both the Armorer and Paz nodded before continuing. “And according to your customs,” she proceeded, but had to stop as more laughter bubbled up.
Din frowned at Alaina’s struggle to keep herself from having a full-blown hysterical fit of laughter, when it hit him: Gideon was in possession of the Darksaber, and according to his people’s customs, winning it in battle meant—
“Laina,” Din snorted once the realization hit him. He reached back to grab his wife’s durasteel calf, unable to stop his own laughter once he understood where Alaina was going.
“I don’t see how this is amusing,” Paz drawled.
Green eyes locked on his, and husband and wife lost their battle to keep from falling apart together. Alaina collapsed against his back in a fit of cackles that made her sound insane, while Din choked on his own laughter. Even Grogu chimed in, squealing as he looked to the other Mandalorians while pointing to his mother.
“Could you imagine?” Alaina gasped through her manic laughter.
Din shook his head when he felt tears prick his eyes from laughing so hard. “You’re already too much of his princess,” he barely managed to get out, making both of them double over again.
“I’m afraid I have to agree with Paz Vizsla,” the Armorer cut in, and Alaina tried to wipe the tears from her eyes as they both attempted to regain their composure. “I’m not sure what I find so amusing about the Darksaber leaving the hands of the Mandalorians. Had our sect not been cloistered on the moon of Concordia, we would have not survived the Great Purge.”
“I’m sorry,” Din recovered first, unable to look back at his wife for fear that she would make him crack again.
“I am too,” Alaina agreed quickly, but he could still hear the struggle in her voice to keep herself from dissolving into a fit of laughter again. “I mean no disrespect to you or your people,” she continued once she managed to get a handle on her amusement.
Once Din was sure he had his laughter under control, he looked behind him and shared a smile when he caught Alaina already smiling back at him, her emerald eyes glittering in delight. This woman, his wife, never ceased to amaze and amuse him. For a brief moment in time, and had Pershing not interfered, Alaina Corra would have been considered the karking Manda’lor.
Din Djarin would follow Alaina Corra into the gates of hell no matter what other people considered her to be. Supreme leader… God… Witch… Ballerina… none of those labels mattered to him.
The only thing that mattered was her.
“Well, all things considered, I think that went pretty well there until the end,” Alaina commented as they exited the tram back at section twenty-three and continued their walk to the Crest.
Din smirked under his helmet. After breaking down in a fit of childish giggles in front of the Armorer and Paz, he should have been embarrassed, but he couldn’t find it in him to be anything but… happy.
“I’m not sure the Armorer was impressed with our outburst at the end there,” he teased as they rounded the corner from the tram station and back out onto the main promenade lined with shops that would eventually turn toward the docks. “But she didn’t label me an apostate when we couldn’t stop laughing, and didn’t tell us that we couldn’t come back, so I think it did go well.”
Alaina beamed at him before leaning to rest her head on his shoulder as they walked through the promenade, weaving and eyeing the various shops and carts scattered around them. Her steps slowed, forcing him to match her pace while she browsed. When her steps slowed further, Din found her interest had shifted to the cart nearest them, which offered a variety of flowers and bouquets.
“I liked Paz,” she revealed as her fingertips hovered over the petals of a particular purple flower that appeared to be the only one of its kind. The petals were deep purple with yellow tips, gradually transitioning from lighter purple at the tips to darker shades, almost black at the center.
“It’s called Nightshade, Miss,” the cart owner informed them, plucking the purple flower with its long, curling petals from its container for Alaina to hold. “It’s found only in this system, and if plucked at the full moons, Nightshade will stay in bloom for years.”
Alaina studied the flower with a smile, while Din studied her. It was a flower, not something that would have called to him like it did his wife, but if it made her happy, then that’s all that mattered. He reached into his pocket without a second thought and tossed a couple of credits to the shop owner in exchange for the purple flower.
“Thank you!” Alaina gasped as she continued to admire her gift.
Grogu was still strapped to her chest and tried to stretch his stubby arms for the Nightshade flower, but when Alaina brought it closer to him, the kid instantly tried to eat it.
“C’mere,” Din sighed, pulling their son from the handmade contraption his mother had made to carry the womp rat. “Thinking with your stomach is gonna get you in trouble,” he cautioned, but the kid just gave him an innocent smile back.
Alaina smirked at their interaction from his side, and Din moved the kid so he could sit on his left shoulder, before holding his left arm out, inviting Alaina to come to his side. As her body moved to him, he felt her arm slip under his cloak to wrap around his lower back, just under his jet pack. Soft skin and gentle curves melted against harsh armor as if she had been handcrafted to fit at his side. His chest warmed at the thought, but not from their bond, but because he was happy.
And why shouldn’t he be happy?
He had found his tribe. He had a family. The most ethereal woman in the galaxy was his wife, and together, they were raising their adoptive son. With any luck, there would be another child in their future, but even if that dream never came to fruition, this was perfect enough as it was. This was everything.
“Do you think Paz liked me?” Alaina asked from his side, looking up from her new flower to stare at his helmet.
Din nodded instantly. “Maybe even more than he likes me,” he revealed, and Alaina nestled herself closer to his side, as if they had been carved from the same cloth and she was always meant to be there. His hand gripped her hip, giving it a tender squeeze. “Although,” he began with a hum. “It’s probably for the best we didn’t go into details about how you were technically the Mand’alor for almost ten whole minutes,” he said, sharing another amused snicker with his wife, which made his cheeks sore because he’d been unable to stop smiling since his and Alaina’s fit of childish laughter overtook them.
Alaina let out a quiet yawn. “Just as long as you still consider me to be your Queen,” came her sleepy response.
“Always, Tranyc,” he murmured back and squeezed the side of her hip. “We’ll be back at the dock soon,” he reminded her. “Don’t fall asleep on me just yet.”
Alaina cracked out another, louder yawn before replying with, “Well, someone kept me up all night last night.”
Din’s cheeks strained as he smirked for entirely different, not so innocent reasons. “Didn’t hear any complaints when you were riding my—”
“Din,” she hissed and brought her fingers under his armor to find that sensitive area that made him flinch. “Not in front of impressionable ears.”
He snorted, but turned his helmet to study the green toddler sitting contentedly on his shoulder. “What about you, kid? What do you think about the Armorer making your first piece of armor?”
The kid sputtered out something nonsensical, accompanied by a trickle of drool as he banged his smaller hands against his helmet.
“He’s too young to be fitted with armor,” Alaina tutted, taking the sleeve of her green sweater to wipe the kid’s drool away.
“It’s normal for children to have training pieces made when they are young. It gets them used to wearing it,” he explained as they continued their leisurely stroll.
Alaina shrugged. “It just seems like a big step,” she pouted and rested her head against his arm once more. “I’m not sure I’m ready to see him wearing a helmet.”
“He’s still got some time before that happens, Tranyc,” he promised, rubbing the palm of his hand soothingly over her hip.
Alaina hummed softly from his left. “Oh, I know where we are,” she said, pointing to a small standalone building surrounded by metal chairs and tables that overlooked the sun with the panels open. “That’s the place I got caf and breakfast this morning.”
“Right. Where you met the monk who gave you the creeps,” he teased, tucking his hand back to pinch her ass.
“Din!” she seethed as she jumped from his side to turn back and glare at him. Only her glare was greatly diminished by the smirk she was attempting to smother. “We’re in public,” she scolded him, but giggled when he made to grab for her again. “Din Djarin—”
Alaina never got to finish her reprimand when the lights around them suddenly brightened uncontrollably before they went out with a loud pop, startling them and everyone else surrounding them.
Din instantly plucked the kid from his shoulder to pull him protectively against his chest.
“Is this one of the power surges that Vetz was talking about?” Alaina asked as they stood together in the dark, listening as the people panicked around them.
Thankfully, the sun panels were open, and the sun provided enough ambient lighting that it wasn’t pitch-black, but that seemed to be the only bonus at the moment. Every shop, sign, and even the tram they had just exited had completely powered down, leaving the bustling station eerily quiet, devoid of background noise.
“Must be,” he replied as he tried to peer out through the window to see if it was just this section or if the entire station was down as well. As if their luck couldn’t get any better, his HUD inside his helm began flashing and sounding alarms. “Osik.”
“What?” Alaina asked, her emerald eyes searching his helmet for an answer. “What is it?”
“Someone is either using the power surge to their advantage or designed it to create a diversion,” he grumbled as he grabbed Alaina’s hand in his. “Someone’s trying to break into the Crest.”
Alaina’s face hardened as her hand gripped his tightly before they both took off toward the docks in a full sprint.
They had to fight against the crowd of people who were either just standing in place, unsure where to go while the power was out, or fighting to reach their destinations.
When they reached the dock entrance, he tugged on Alaina’s hand and pulled her to a stop beside him.
“We need a plan,” he told her.
“Whoever is trying to break in clearly wasn’t aware of how close we were,” Alaina began, nodding her head toward the entrance. “We go and surprise them and catch them in the act.”
“Tranyc,” he murmured, shaking his helmet. “Think this through. We want the element of surprise, yes,” he agreed, “but we need to know who we’re up against. Not just anyone can break into the Razor Crest, and we already know someone was scouting it out.”
Alaina frowned when he dropped her hand. “I’ll go,” she offered, face set in grim determination. “I already know you are going to object—”
“Alaina—”
“But I’m the only one out of the two of us who can go invisible,” she continued, talking over his words. “I’ll also remind you that you were the one who suggested learning to work with my sister more—”
“Alaina—”
“And my sister and I had this moment right before we met Paz, and while I know she’s stronger than me, and things could still get out of hand, I think we’ve come to an understanding.”
“Alaina—”
“Din, please,” she pleaded, amping up her doe eyes as she stared straight into his helmet. “Partners, remember? Let me help. I can do this.”
“I know you can,” Din agreed, smiling when Alaina looked taken aback by his comment. “That was going to be my suggestion if you had let me get a word in.”
Her face lit up at his words. “Really?” she asked excitedly, and he chuckled at her enthusiasm. “You’re not joking? You’re actually going to let me help?” Alaina asked him as if she still couldn’t believe it, but was already slipping Grogu’s harness from her chest to pass to him as quickly as possible, probably thinking he was going to change his mind.
Din heaved a sigh and pointed toward the dock entrance. “You’re doing reconnaissance,” he told her seriously. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Alaina’s smile stayed firmly in place even after her eyes morphed into the black, bottomless pools of her alter ego. Me’suum’ika’s black eyes stared at him while sharing her sister’s smile, before she leaned forward on her tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on the center of his helm.
“Behave,” he murmured as her lips left his helm.
The black-eyed woman gave him an unnerving, predatory look before she disappeared before his eyes.
“Maker help me,” he grumbled to himself as he approached the dock’s entrance, clutching Grogu in his hands as he waited for her to return.
He fiddled with the harness made from his old cloak, taking his time to secure it around his chest just for something to do while the seconds dragged painfully by. While he trusted Me’suum’ika to keep Alaina safe, his wife’s black-eyed alter ego was still a wild card. Even though they had already practiced this exact type of scenario just the day before, and he had been the one to encourage working with her power more, it didn’t make watching her leave any less terrifying.
And then, just as he was about to say fuck it and leave, something cinched inside of his chest, making him still.
Din paused, brow furrowing at the feeling, waiting for the feeling to return. It was their bond, he was sure of it, but it wasn’t the normal warmth he felt. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling either… It reminded him of her power taking over him while he had been at the shooting range with Rhoam. Only this time, it was quicker. It was more as if Alaina had reached out to grab his attention. On his next inhale, a flash of images crossed his mind: the first was the person wearing the strange helmet he saw on the security feed yesterday, who was currently trying to break into one of the larger storage crates in the hold. His next breath brought another flash of images. The focus shifted to the back of the hold, where the black trunk carrying Alaina’s father’s armor was being carelessly dropped through the hatch and onto the hold floor.
He didn’t need any further signals. Me’suum’ika’s visions, and the feeling of her rage simmering in his veins, were enough to spur him to action. Din tucked Grogu into his harness and raced silently toward the slip where the Crest was, bearing his teeth when he found the gangplank down, but Alaina nowhere in sight.
As he reached his ship, he paused just before entering when he could hear voices speaking in the hold.
“Is that it?” a woman’s voice asked.
“No,” a man’s gruff voice answered, moments after he heard the sound of the locks being broken. “But it appears they are collecting armor.”
Every hair on his body felt as if it raised on end as he could feel Me’suum’ika’s fury, and decided that he needed to act now before Me’suum’ika retaliated, before they could get any answers.
“I’d step away from that if I were you,” he ordered, blaster pointed at the bald man in the back of the hold, who was crouched beside Alaina’s trunk.
The other person with him, the one from the security footage wearing a helmet, immediately fixed their blaster on him, but when he felt the briefest touch to his side, he knew Alaina was near, and neither she nor her sister would allow any harm to come to him or their son.
“I’m here for the armor,” the man said as he slowly raised his hands and moved to stand, but when Din cocked his blaster, the man was smart enough to stay where he was.
“Not that armor, you’re not,” Din warned lowly. “And if it’s mine you want, you’ll have to peel it off my dead body.”
Their bond flared in warning inside his chest, indicating that the dueling sisters were clearly irritated at his words, but Din didn’t back down. He used the moment to take a quick look around the hold, finding they had done just as thorough a job as Alaina and the kid did when they tore it apart only the day before. The wall compartments were open, and small boxes and crates that were normally tucked away were out on display from the two of them searching for their prize.
“I don’t want just any armor,” the man continued, lowering his hands. “I want my armor. The armor that you got from Cobb Vanth back on Tatooine. It belongs to me.”
Din’s helmet cocked in surprise at the man’s words. “Are you a Mandalorian?” He didn’t recognize the green armor as belonging to anyone from his covert, but there were others out there. He hadn’t run into an apostate since Rav, so Din was uncertain of the protocols, but he knew that Rav had been allowed to keep his armor when he’d lost his helmet, so that meant that if the man was telling the truth, he could return the green set to its rightful owner…
The stranger shrugged. “I’m a simple man, making his way through the galaxy like my father before me.”
Din rolled his eyes at the man’s cryptic answer. Where was Me’suum’ika when he wanted her? If the man wanted to speak in riddles, he could speak to her, and once the black-eyed woman bested him, he and Alaina could try to decipher the truth from this stranger.
However, instead of alerting the intruders that there was someone else lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce, he asked, “Did you take the Creed?”
“I give my allegiance to no one,” the man growled lowly.
Din shook his helmet. Rav may have been allowed to keep his armor, but he had taken the Creed. Rav had been as Mandalorian as they came, and had every right to the beskar, as long as he no longer wore his helmet. “That beskar belongs to the Mandalorians.”
“It was looted from us during the Purge,” the man countered with a snarl. “The armor was my father’s. Now it’s mine.”
Din’s mouth was open to argue with the man, but the stranger continued before Din could say another word.
“And if you don’t give me what’s mine, then you’ll regret confining yourself and your companion in such small quarters with my sharpshooter,” he threatened, glancing to the other person with a blaster trained on him, who was standing closer to him than the other man.
“And if you remember, I don’t miss.”
Din froze at the sound of that voice. He knew that voice. Not from the last time they were on Tatooine when they went looking for the rumored Mandalorian, but found Vanth instead. Memories from the trip before that floated to the surface of his mind. Memories of his screaming match with Alaina after finding she had disobeyed his order and put herself at risk just to go shopping. Memories of the cocky wannabe hunter who dared to lay his hands on the broken woman who, despite everything that had happened to her, still summoned enough courage to stand up to the mudscuffer to defend Grogu. He knew that voice. A voice that he had assumed was now dead and buried in the scorching Tatooine desert.
“Fennec?” he asked in disbelief, settling his helmet on the other woman.
“You have a keen ear, Mando,” the woman purred, confirming his suspicion.
“Point your gun away from my kid,” he ordered.
“Or what?” she challenged.
“Or I won’t be able to save you from my partner,” he cautioned, feeling the electricity begin to flow through his veins.
“Let’s all put our weapons down and have a chat,” the bald man tried, and took a step around the trunk.
Fennec scoffed. “Your partner? You mean the blonde teacher?” she taunted.
At Din’s huff, the other man raised his hands to stop him. “We’ve been following you since Tatooine.” Din’s heart hammered in his chest at the man’s admission. They’d been followed since Tatooine, without him noticing? Without Me’suum’ika noticing? “In fact, I enjoyed a nice cup of caf with your partner this morning.”
Din stared at the bald man, swathed in his black, ominous robes, as Alaina’s story from this clicked into place. Alaina’s monk, who gave her the creeps.
“I heard about your rendezvous,” he informed them, smirking when they seemed surprised to hear that. “And I have to agree with my wife, you give us the creeps. And for someone with your reputation,” Din continued, turning his helmet to look at the assassin. “I’m not impressed,” he shrugged. “Because if you have been following us since Tatooine, you would know that pointing a blaster anywhere near the direction of our son or me, puts the two of you in grave danger.”
Fennec moved to take her helmet so she could give him a full view of her amused face. She shared a smile with the man she was with, and her mouth was open to say something, probably to say something along the lines of not being scared of a teacher, but when she took a step back, her boot accidentally bumped one of the open storage drawers built into the wall that they had already emptied in search of the stranger’s armor, andDin watched in slow motion as a frame that had been teetering precariously on the edge fell to the floor, where the glass cracked in half.
Din stared at the broken picture frame that held the photo of Alaina holding the bouquet of white flowers, standing beside her ailing mother at the last performance Iliana Corra got to see. The crack in the glass went diagonal, cutting directly over Iliana’s picture, and some of the smaller cracks spidered over to Alaina.
The image of Alaina sobbing over the picture in the hold would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. “This was the worst night of my life,” she’d cried. And after their talk at the performing arts center earlier, he knew why. It was the last picture she’d ever taken with her mother. Her mother, who rallied enough to watch her daughter’s last performance ever on the world she’d grown up on before her condition deteriorated past the point of no return.
The air went stale inside the small hold, and Din closed his eyes as he felt Alaina’s anger boil over into her sister. The woman, Fennec, either didn’t realize or didn’t care about the broken picture and how that small, innocuous mistake could very possibly lead to her downfall, so Din had to throw his hand to stop her from speaking and making things worse.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, walking toward the sharpshooter so he could retrieve the precious moment from the floor.
Fennec and the man with her shared a confused look, but in their confusion, they missed the ballerina from the picture as she materialized near the ladder leading up to the cockpit.
Din braced himself, wrapping his arms protectively around Grogu and the photo as he felt the electricity flowing through her flash. The two intruders did a double-take at his actions, growing more confused as the seconds ticked by, until they both realized there was someone else in the hold with them.
There was no time to warn them of the wrath they had unleashed upon themselves.
The ticking time bomb exploded, leaving them no time to respond or defend themselves before Alaina’s power violently rippled through the hold, sending everyone and everything flying through the air until they were pinned against the hold. Shockwaves of power rippled through the air and even out of the gangplank and into the dock.
Din’s back hit the wall with a grunt and held Grogu as he cried and attempted to reach for the black-eyed woman stalking through the room toward her prey.
“Me’suum’ika,” Din grunted through the force of Alaina’s power, gluing him to the wall. Thankfully, the sound of his voice seemed to reach her, and after a few unsettling moments, Din found his feet gently returned to the ground, while the other two remained glued to the wall.
He shared a concerned look with Grogu before both of their gazes locked on Alaina. She had done things like this before, but this felt different. He could feel her in his veins in a way he hadn’t experienced before. The anger and sorrow oozed from her into him like a roaring river overpowering the dam holding it back. It was the kind of fury that had him ready to end them execution style, and he was only feeling a fraction of what he imagined Alaina was. If both of the sisters were this furious, who was to keep the demigod in check?
Cautiously, so as not to startle her, Din approached, coming to stand beside her, offering her his silent support. Unsure if it was Alaina or her sister, but when he risked a glance at the snarling woman, something inside of him physically hurt to see the fat, angry tears leak from her black eyes.
“And with two, was to make eight, but perhaps the sun’s song can finish with only six pawns,” her alter ego seethed, voice dripping with disdain, as she stared down the shocked intruders.
Din sighed and nodded his understanding. “Let them go, Me’suum’ika,” he encouraged, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back. “No one’s song needs to finish today, and we can’t get answers from them if they’re dead.”
Alaina’s alter ego lashed out with a snake-like hiss at the other two, but Din took the hand he already had on the small of her back to wrap around her waist so he could tug her into his side.
“Alaina,” he murmured, resting his helmet over her head. “Come back to me.”
The first sign that his wife had returned to control was Fennec and her partner falling unceremoniously to the ground, followed by a quiet sniffle from the woman at his side as she reached for the picture he held in his other hand.
“I can explain,” the man began as he picked himself up from the ground.
In the blink of an eye, he watched Alaina move with a speed and grace he had not seen outside of their little sparring exercises. In one smooth motion, Alaina, not her sister, turned from his side and had both strangers pinned against the durasteel hull again, the yellow blade of her mother’s saber crackling with life as she held it horizontally, letting it aid her in baricaiding the intruders against the hull.
“Please,” she seethed, bearing her teeth at the man and woman while tears still trickled down her cheeks. “Please explain to me why you broke into our home. Explain to me what gives you the right to break into our home and damage our possessions. Explain to me what gives you the right to threaten my family,” she finished lowly, squaring her shoulders while she waited for their answer.
“Maybe you could call your guard dog off, and we would be more inclined to talk,” Fennec grumbled, looking to Din when Alaina shifted the blade of her mother's laser sword a fraction closer when she spoke.
“You think she listens to me?” Din scoffed. “I did warn you,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “But I’m also interested in your answers to her questions.”
“There’s no need for bloodshed, little one,” the man said, keeping his eyes directed on Alaina. “I just want what’s mine.”
“The green armor,” Alaina acknowledged with a huff, and took a step away from her prey and deactivated her mother’s laser sword. “I could smell you on it.”
The bald man studied Alaina, but Din could see he was looking at her with more intrigue than terror. Finally, the man nodded. “My name is Boba Fett, and I’ve been searching for this armor for some time,” the man explained to them. Neither he nor Shand made any move to escape. “This armor belonged to my father—”
“Then you could have asked for it,” Alaina snapped, her voice coming out more like a hiss as she spoke to the man through her tears. Din watched as her fists clenched and unclenched while her head leaned from one side to the other, and he wondered how much time they had until her sister won their internal battle to regain control. “You didn’t have to break into our home!”
The man, Fett, gave her a slight bow of his head. “It was my intention to ask, but you slipped away this morning before I could broach the subject.” Fett took a moment to raise his wrist, and after pressing a couple of buttons, a holo-image showing two chaincodes appeared before them. “That armor was given to my father, Jango Fett, by your forebearers,” he explained, moving to look to Din now. “And I want it back.”
Din shook his helmet. “It goes against the Creed.”
Alaina looked away from the intruders to him and motioned for him to follow her. “It’s his,” she began in a whisper once they moved to the ladder that went up to the cockpit.
“That’s not how it works, Tranyc,” Din told her. “He isn’t Mandalorian—”
“Neither am I,” she countered, nodding to her father’s armor, still packed away in the trunk that had been dropped from above.
Din sighed, “It’s not the same—”
“How? That was my father’s armor, just like that was his father’s armor,” Alaina argued. “And before you try and find some loophole that because I didn’t know I wasn’t a Mandalorian, I’ll remind you that, like him, I haven’t taken the Creed. How does that make me any different from him?” Din didn’t have a response for that one. “And if the armor, or the beskar, is supposed to stay with the Mandalorians, or it goes against the Creed for someone not Mandalorian to have it, then why did Paz return my father’s armor to my mother?”
Din’s jaw hurt from how tightly his teeth were clenched, but he didn’t have one logical argument for his defense.
“In exchange for the return of my armor,” Fett continued, interrupting their argument by taking advantage of their brief moment of silence, “I’m willing to offer something in return.”
“We don’t want your credits,” Alaina snapped back at the other man, even going so far as to bare her teeth at him.
The slight quirk of Fett’s lips made Din’s shoulders square. “I wasn’t going to offer something as lowly as credits to the Dragon Witch,” he purred.
Alaina’s snarl disappeared at the moniker, and she turned back to give him a surprised look. “I thought you were kidding about that,” she hissed, but all Din could do was shrug.
“Your husband isn’t the only one who can communicate with Tusken Raiders.” Alaina and Din shared a brief, cautious look with one another before returning their attention to Fett. “I will admit that you had us fooled, little one. I didn’t realize it was you who ripped that beast in half. So, I suppose we are in your debt for not treating us in the same manner as the Krayt Dragon,” Fett thanked with a nod.
A slow smile spread on his face as he watched his wife cross her arms over her chest, appearing to lazily jut her hip out. “Your debt?” she asked with an unimpressed snarl. “Your services? Is that what you’re offering?”
Fett nodded. “That is half of the offer. The other half is information.”
At the bald man’s nod to Shand, the assassin said two words that made Din Djarin’s knees buckle: “Project Vermilion.”
“What’s Vermilion?” he’d once asked on a tiny moon with silver and lavender grass.
“A color,” had been her flat, monotone response set against an ominous background of lighting cracking overhead.
“Where did you hear that name from?” Alaina demanded, hand instantly back to the hilt of her mother’s saber, ready to defend.
Din shook his head in disbelief that they were back here again. That horrible moment when they’d played the message from Penn karking Pershing, who told them the truth, that Alaina was dying to lay his trap, had been the beginning of the end.
“I’m reaching out to you at great risk of being compromised. He has not given up the trials, and now that we have the Child’s blood, we’ve been proceeding with Project Vermilion.”“What’s Project Vermilion?” he’d demanded from his captain’s chair.
“It’s a trap, you know.”“What’s Project Vermilion?”“I am.”
Fennec shrugged. “I know people.”
“I am.” Din had to force himself to take regular, even breaths as her words reverberated inside him.
“You know Imps,” Alaina snarled. “Where did you hear that name?” she demanded lowly, taking a threatening step to close the distance between them.
Din immediately followed her lead, coming to stand beside her so they would present a united front. He couldn’t let the past cloud his mind. Not now. Not while everything hung on Fennec Shand’s answer.
“It’s a shadow company,” the assassin began with a subtle shrug. “That’s all I know, but I’m not surprised to hear there are Imperial ties.” Din’s attention was focused directly on Alaina, but his wife’s fury was still directed at their intruders. “But as I said, I know people, and the people who work for them like to talk while they drink. That, and they hire lousy hunters to do their dirty work for them.”
“What do you mean they hired hunters?” Din questioned. His voice almost gave out, and when Alaina’s hand moved to hold his, he gripped it for dear life. He hadn’t heard a word of any of this. Even though the guild was no longer on Nevarro, Karga’s ear was still to the ground, and he stayed in the loop on things and hadn’t told him of any whispers of hunters hired to go after his family.
“Surely you know of the bounty on your… son?” Fennec said, raising an eyebrow at the small green child strapped to Din’s chest.
“Yes,” the parents responded in unison.
“There was an… incident a few years ago,” Din continued. “We hadn’t heard any whispers from the empire about them still looking for either Grogu or Alaina.”
“Then you haven’t been listening in the right places,” came Shand’s taunt.
Before Din or Alaina could snap at either of them, Fett filled them in on the parts his associate had left out. “Project Vermilion is a shadow company that has put out a hit on your son in the last three months, and the reward they are offering for just him is worth ten suits of armor.”
Alaina gripped his hand tightly before asking quietly, “Just him?”
Fett’s smile widened. “For a lesser fee, they have asked for any remaining Jedi or force users to be brought to them, alive or dead.” Din gripped Alaina’s hand back just as tightly, already running through a list of things they needed to do before they went into deep hiding, but the world came to a stop when Fett continued. “But there are two other objectives they have. One for any proof of life, or information that led them to find a woman with blond hair and black eyes with extraordinary abilities,” he said quietly. “That objective is almost as much as your son’s hit.”
“What's the other objective?” Alaina asked, voice trembling, losing all of the confidence and swagger she possessed only moments ago.
“The same person,” Fett revealed, making Alaina sag in relief, but Din… Din Djarin could only shake his helmet in disbelief at being right back where they started all those years ago. “And if someone were to somehow capture and return this mysterious woman with blonde hair and black eyes alive, that person would be paid enough to become a king.”
“What is Project Vermilion?”“I am.”
Tense silence filled the hold. They knew this was always a possibility. Din had been hopeful that Pershing and the Empire were a part of their past, but he wasn't naïve enough to think that someday, their luck would change, and they’d have to confront them again.
“Why are you telling us this?” Alaina asked? “Why not just kill us and get your reward?”
The man's face softened ever so slightly before he said, “As I said, we’ve been following you and your family since Tatooine, and while the offer is tempting, I don’t work for other people, and I’m not in the business of ruining families.”
Alaina eyed the man with wary green eyes. “Then what is your business?”
Fett shrugged. “Right in this moment, it appears that I am in debt to the Dragon Witch. I have plans for after I’ve served my time, and perhaps once my debt has been paid to her, I would have curried enough favor to call on the Dragon Witch for a favor or two.”
Alaina’s jaw ticked at the man’s implications while the leather of Din’s gloves creaked as his hands balled into fists at his sides.
“Where is this alleged shadow company?” Alaina asked quietly.
“Where is my armor?” Fett countered.
Din’s helmet was still locked on Alaina, calculating every twitch, tick, and breath. He’d learned his lessons from the past and knew that this was something that they would need to discuss together, as a family. While his mind knew the right thing, his body was telling him to run. To run as far as they could. Maybe even further into wild space than Dietes. However, while his body was telling him to run, his heart and mind seemed to draw strength from Alaina. The calm determination on her face was the opposite of what he was sure his looked like under his helmet. The moment her emerald eyes slid to his helm, he knew what she was going to say before the words left her mouth.
“Is your partner a man of his word?” she asked, turning her attention to Fennec.
“I was left for dead on Tatooine,” Shand began. “But fate sometimes steps in to rescue the wretched.” Fennec turned her head to give her partner an appreciative nod. “In my case, Boba Fett was that fate, and I am now in his service. His word means everything to him. Even if you weren’t the Dragon Witch and could rip us in half with your thoughts if we went behind your back, he would still honor his word. We both will.”
Alaina looked back at him and gave him a subtle nod. “Give him his armor.” Din cocked his helmet at her request, but Alaina nodded again. “They’re telling the truth. They won’t deceive us. And it’s his armor. It’s the right thing to do.”
Even though Din didn’t agree with his wife’s order, he gave her a nod. While the mysterious green beskar armor may belong with the Mandalorians, if this Bobba Fett was skilled enough to have the respect of someone as skilled as Fennec Shand, then giving him the armor would give them a slight advantage. An advantage they couldn’t afford to let slip through their fingers.
“Thank you,” Fett murmured, giving Alaina a deep bow of respect. Din moved to grab the man’s armor from the hidden storage compartment under Grogu’s alcove to get Fett his armor. “I will guarantee the safety of you and your family for as long as you’re on Glavis,” he vowed, giving Din another quick, thankful bow as he presented the man with his missing armor.
Din’s outstretched hand clung to the mesh bag containing Fett’s armor as he processed the man’s words. “Why for as long as we’re on Glavis?” he asked, and his heart dropped when the man gave him a knowing look.
“Because Profect Vermilion’s base of operations is here on Glavis,” Fett revealed, knocking the air from his chest.
A/N #2: Some dialogue taken from The Book of Boba Fett - The Return of the Mandalorian and The Mandalorian - The Tragedy. I've blended and meshed them to fit my own story. Hopefully, I didn't mess up the lore too much, and if I did, it's for the story arc.
Until next time, friends.
Tag List: @racheldon @hipcheckchick @zenrobbins0021 @locked-ness @smoochispoof @looopylooony @leeroyjagginz @starwarslover-81
Comment or send me a message if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Guys, it’s the TWO-YEAR ANNIVERSARY of Heaven in Hiding! 😱
Not gonna lie, I can’t believe we’ve almost made it to the end (and also can’t believe it’s taken two years to get here 🤪). In honor of this milestone, I would like to show you guys the piece that the magnificent @roughdaysandart created for me! They took an idea I had inside my head (and a stick figure on a post-it note) and created something absolutely magical. In my mind, this is the book cover to all 600k some-odd words. I’m in love. Thanks, friend ♥️
Speaking of Heaven in Hiding… see you this Saturday (April 4th) for Chapter 45!
🌪️ Chapter Summary: April 3rd, twenty twenty-something: the day you and a man from outer space made a pinky promise.
🌪️ Pairings: Fem!Earthling!Reader x Din Djarin
🌪️ Word Count: 8.9k
AO3 link to Ch 3
Chapter 3: The Pinky Promise
April third, twenty twenty-something
"Here," you offered softly, setting a bottle of water on the table in front of the man.
"Thanks," he whispered.
You watched him fiddle with the plastic bottle, noting how much smaller it looked in his massive, calloused (surprisingly well-manicured) hands before he unscrewed the plastic lid and downed a third of it in an eager gulp. With his handler taken care of, you passed one of Rosie's old sippy cups filled with water to the green creature, smirking as he snatched the pink plastic cup from your hand and immediately started downing its contents, just like his owner.
"Nice to see you do have manners after all," came your knee-jerk, dry response. It wasn't your mission to kick a person when they were down, but you desperately needed to fill the silence so you could stop staring at his throat or hands. Also, he had held you at gunpoint earlier, so you felt somewhat vindicated with your sarcastic jab.
The man set the bottle down, looking a little sheepish, before turning those deep, soulful brown eyes in your direction. "I'm sorry," he said, and sounded it. "For earlier."
"Apology accepted," you replied with a quick smile and then shoved off the kitchen table to head toward the fridge. "How about a sandwich?" you offered, already pulling out the ingredients for one of your standby lunches. When you turned back to the table, you frowned at the man's pet. "Uh… what can your pet eat?"
"He's not a pet," the man said in a tired voice from the table. "But we'll be okay. We've taken up too much of your hospitality as it is."
"Yeah," you agreed with a sarcastic huff of a laugh. "But I'm guessing you two didn't stop for brunch after you stormed out of here this morning and are probably starving," you snarked, giving the man a pointed look, but he didn't so much as twitch. "Besides, I'm offering, and your green… not a pet, is too cute for me to let it starve."
With a deep inhale, the man nodded. "The kid can eat whatever I eat," he said with a long, drawn-out sigh, resigning himself to accept your offer of food, and brought his massive hands up to cover his face.
Your eyebrows raised at that. Not like you knew what Furby's were supposed to eat, but you supposed you should just be thankful that the man didn't say it required a blood sacrifice or something instead.
"Three sandwiches coming up," you announced softly, turning back to grab the ingredients from the fridge. "Mustard or Mayo?" you asked as you began assembling the turkey sandwiches for the three of you. The question made the stranger drag his hands from his face, but he just stared at you with an exhausted, vacant look. "Mustard it is then," you decided for him as you put the finishing touches to your sandwiches and returned to the table.
"Thanks," he murmured when you set his plate in front of him.
"No problem," you replied as you placed a plate in front of the green creature sitting in Rosie's old booster seat in the chair beside the man. You couldn't help but smile when the thing… kid he had called it, perked its ears up in excitement at the meal and began eagerly devouring the sandwich. "So, you called it, Grogu?" you asked as you took the seat across from him.
"His name is Grogu," the man corrected quietly, keeping his gaze on the table. "He's just a kid."
Your eyes slid to the… kid, and you found he had inhaled the sandwich you had made for him. "Well, I don't know what you are, but I can tell you're hungry. Want another sandwich, buddy?" you asked, mouth full of your own bite, and smiled when Grogu gave you an eager nod.
The man sighed and leveled a look at the green child sitting beside him before saying, "You don't have to -"
"Look at that face," you stopped him with an unbothered wave as you got up from the table to make another sandwich. "I can't say no to that face."
"One more," the man sighed, with a heavy emphasis on the one. "The kid has a bottomless pit for a stomach and will eat until he pukes."
With a disgusted grimace, you nodded, not interested in cleaning up Furby vomit on top of dealing with everything else. It only took you another second to put together a second turkey sandwich, and the way Grogu clapped when you presented it to him was all the thanks you needed.
Awkward silence settled over the table again, and you looked between your guests as you swallowed down another bite.
"So, I know Grogu's name," you paused to share a smile with the green Furby when it heard you say its name again, "but I don't think I caught your name?"
The gloomy, armored man glared daggers at his sandwich instead of answering you.
"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours?" you tried again, to no avail. "Alright… You said you're from… Tython?" you asked, doing your best to pry something that resembled any information from the stranger so you could figure out the best way to help him.
"Uh, that's where we were before…" he answered, still staring at the sandwich.
You took a bite from yours, thinking he was going to elaborate, or eat, or something, but he just sat there. "It's turkey," you told him, holding your sandwich up when he looked at you. "I hope that's okay? Oh, wait, you're not a vegetarian or something, are you?"
"No," he shook his head, and finally grabbed his sandwich. "Sorry, I'm…" he began, but faded off, looking between the sandwich and you. His mouth flattened, and his brows furrowed in distress before he sighed. "I'm not used to eating in front of others," came his sheepish admission.
You raised your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting that answer. "Oh, don't be sorry," you replied, shaking your head as you gathered your plate and water bottle.
"Wait," he tried to stop you, even going so far as to stand up with you. "I didn't mean for you -"
"It's okay. Really," you nodded. "Eat, and I'll just be out here when you're done. We can try to call your friends when you're done, okay?"
The man nodded to you as he took his seat again, and you smiled as you passed by, stopping to scratch the green creature's wrinkled head before leaving the kitchen.
Once in the living room, you set your plate on the coffee table so you could make yourself comfortable on the floor. Now that you were eye level with the scorch marks that decorated the handmade coffee table, you tried to scrub at them with a napkin, but they didn't budge. The annoyed growl that escaped as you leveled a glare at the kitchen where your guests were eating didn't help remove the damage, but it did make you feel better. Sort of.
Although now that you have a minute alone… You grabbed your phone from your back pocket, opened the web browser, and immediately typed in Tython.
Nothing.
Well, that wasn't completely true. Google thought you misspelled the word, replaced it with Typhon, and provided a Wikipedia page about a serpentine creature in Greek mythology. There was also a company website, but basically nothing else.
You tried every spelling you could imagine as you searched for a city or town in any of the neighboring states, then expanded your search to the entire United States, but still nothing.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the green thing - Grogu - you tried to correct yourself - as he waddled into the living room, accompanied by the man's boots shuffling slowly beside his tiny green body. As you gulped down the last bite of your lunch, you waved your phone at him to show him your empty search results. "I'm having a hard time finding Tython," you told him.
"It's not here," he murmured cryptically, shifting his boots slightly as they came to a stop by the coffee table.
"Right," you replied slowly, unsure of what else to say. "Here," you said, holding your phone out for him. "Do you know your friends' numbers?"
He stared at the phone in your hand for a moment before reaching for it, awkwardly grabbing it with two fingers as if studying a piece of paper. "Their numbers?" he questioned, looking away from your phone to look down at you sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Like their chaincodes?"
"Chaincode," you repeated with a frown. "No, like their phone number. What's a chaincode?"
Brown eyes stared back at you for a moment before he said, "You don't know what a chaincode is?"
Your eyebrows rose of their own accord. "You don't know what a phone number is?" you countered, sounding just as confused as he was. "Okay," you started again, shaking your head, and decided to try something else.
Poor guy was probably still dealing with a concussion, and his brain was mixing up his words.
So, you patted the couch for the man to sit down. "Let's try this again," you suggested, sitting beside him on the sofa, smiling when he placed the green - You stopped yourself again. You smiled when he placed Grogu in his lap and took your phone back. You found the phone app on your home screen and opened it to the dial pad. "What area code are you from?"
Brown eyes flicked up from your phone to stare back at you, and you could see he still didn't understand you. Maybe he was from some weird offshoot of an Amish cult, and that's why he didn't understand? Didn't explain the strange gun or the radioactive Furby, but that was the best you could come up with at the moment.
There had to be some rational explanation for your two guests, because if there wasn't, then this encounter was becoming eerily similar to an episode of Doctor Who or Star Trek… and even the fact that you were entertaining some otherworldly phenomenon was enough to make you reset and try to approach this from a different angle.
"You know, I think my dad has some old maps," you suggested, getting up to head to the bookcase. "You do know what a map is, right?" you asked, hoping that there was something that the two of you had in common at this point.
A flash of annoyance crossed his face before he answered with a sarcastic, "Yes, I know what a map is."
"Sorry," you answered, holding your hands up. "Geesh, don't get sassy with me. It was a valid question, considering you don't know what a phone number is." You shook your head and quickly scanned your dad's shelves until you found an old, beat-up book of maps featuring a map of each state and a larger map of the entire continent.
"You don't know what a chaincode is," he grumbled, sounding just as irritated with you as you were with him.
"Do you mean like a Social Security number?" you asked curiously, taking your spot again and opening the book to search the pages for your state.
"What's a Social Security number?" he asked, still looking confused.
The two of you blinked at one another. Realizing you were getting nowhere by arguing with him, you put the book in his lap and pointed to your state. The man's eyes fell to the map, and he just stared at it with a blank expression, causing a sinking suspicion to form in your gut. At the risk of sounding like Elliott when he showed ET a map of the cosmos, you pointed to your state and asked, "This is where we are. Where are you from?" while keeping your eyes fixed on his face.
"What is this?" he asked with a slightly disgusted snarl.
"It's a map of the state. I thought you knew what a map was," you replied, tapping your finger to the open page, when he shot you an irritated glare. "Okay, so general area, where is Tython?"
"State," he repeated slowly and then shook his head. "No, I need a larger map."
Okay, you were finally getting somewhere now. You cheered internally as you took the book back and flipped to the very first page, revealing all of North America to him before passing it back.
"Anything?" you asked, and frowned when he shook his head, silently confirming your second, more realistic suspicion. The suspicion that this man had quite possibly managed to cross the border with his pet, only to get picked up by a tornado and dumped on your farm.
"No, I need a larger map. One of the whole system," he tried again.
"System?" you asked, closing the book of maps again. The man nodded, only confusing you more. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you scanned the living room, looking for... Ah! You could feel the man's eyes tracking you as you crossed the room to grab the old globe from the desk and set it on the table, but he kept staring at you. "Oh, come on," you moaned, glaring as you spun the globe.
"This is just your planet. I need a bigger map," he said, slowly enunciating the last words as if you were an idiot.
"No," you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose to gather yourself. "Nope, we're not doing this. This is it, this is the planet," you told him with a frustrated point at the globe on the table.
When the man looked at the glove and then directed his unimpressed gaze, complete with a quirked eyebrow, you got the distinct impression he thought you were an idiot. "Your system only has one planet?"
"Well, no," you grumbled, but then quickly shook your head before you could let the man derail this insane line of thinking with his implications. "There are other planets," you admitted with a sigh, but the man cut in before you could get back on track.
"Then stop stalling and show me the map," he demanded, frustration dripping from his voice. "I need to figure out where we are. I'm not even sure we're in the same system as Tython -"
"Wait," you stopped him. "Tython is another planet?" you questioned, mouth agape as your mind came to a grinding halt. "What are you trying to say? That you're from another planet?"
The man looked at his armor, then at the green goblin, before replying, "I thought that was obvious?"
You could feel your eye start to twitch as you asked, "Is this some kind of joke?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," he answered, matching your irritation as he rose from the couch, Grogu cradled in his massive arms.
"Dude -"
"Dude?" he repeated, sounding put off by the moniker, and had to cover Grogu's mouth when the creature seemed to argue with him.
"Dude, this is as big as it gets," you answered, picking up the globe and waving it in his face. "Actually, no, you're right," you started, and then stopped to put the globe down to pull your phone out again. After another quick search, you pulled up a map of the solar system. "This is as big as it gets," you finished.
He looked at the screen and then back at you. "Are any of these other planets more advanced than yours?" he asked, pointing his large, gloved finger at the tiny screen. When your face dropped at his question, your arms fell to your sides, and the man had the gall to ask, "What?"
"Instead of a planet, is Tython possibly a mental institution that you escaped from?" you asked, staring at the man in disbelief.
"What?" he asked, face scrunched in confusion. "No," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if you were the one testing his patience and not the other way around. "Just… Just point me in the direction of the nearest spaceport, and I'll leave."
"The Greyhound runs through town every other day, but I'm not sure they have a direct bus that will take you to NASA headquarters," you answered, suddenly unsure if you were being sarcastic or honest with the man.
He rolled his eyes. "I'll figure it out," he grumbled, waving you off as he turned to leave.
"Figure it out?" you asked, shaking your head as you went to stop him. "Okay, just hold on for a sec," you called out, grabbing his arm before he reached the door. "Just hear me out," you tried when his glare returned to you. "It's been a while since I've taken my psych classes, and I wasn't a fan of my rotation through the psych ward, but," you emphasized when he snarled at you. "Let's just say that you're right. You're a man from outer space. Okay. Fine," you agreed, nodding your head. "But you have to believe me that this," you paused to show him the solar system picture on your phone again, "Is the only planet in our system with life."
He shook his head. "No. There's more out there," he told you, turning his brown eyes back at you, giving you such a look of pity that even you were beginning to question yourself. "I'm sorry that you're primitive, but there is more out there," he said before turning away and slipping out the front door.
For the second time that day, you gaped at the empty spot where the man had just been.
Did he just call me primitive?
And then your brain caught up with you as you realized that a man who thought he was from outer space just left your house to roam with his green space goblin and phaser.
"Wait!" you called, chasing after him and the green creature he was carrying in his arms. You stayed on the porch and gripped the porch railing as you called after the stranger again, "Wait!" When the man stopped and turned to glare back at you, you waved your hands at the miles of farmland stretching around you. "Where are you even going to go?"
"I got here somehow," he shrugged. "So, there must be a wormhole, a vortex, or something. I'm going to find it and figure out how to go back."
This was unreal. Absolutely unreal.
"Yeah, okay," you laughed. "You know what might help?" you asked, laughing at the hopeful look that filled the man's face. "I hear there is a pair of ruby slippers, and if you wear them and chant there's no place like home while clicking your heels together, they'll magically transport you home," came your sarcastic, overly cheerful taunt.
A glare replaced the man's hope-filled face before he stomped back toward the main road, flipping you the bird on the way down, making you snort.
Somehow, it was oddly reassuring to see that the middle-finger gesture extended far beyond planet Earth.
"Good luck, space cowboy," you sighed, shaking your head as you turned to head inside. "Cassie is never gonna believe this."
You couldn't get your Spaceman or his green sidekick out of your head. How could you? A stranger in armor and his green creature were dropped onto your pickup by a tornado, and here you were thinking that was the strangest part, but no. The strangest part of the whole ordeal was the brief moment when the stranger genuinely thought they were aliens from another planet.
The rest of your afternoon had been spent on the phone, frantically searching the internet for planets called Tython, or green, possibly sentient lizard children, the name Grogu, if there was evidence that humans existed outside of your solar system, basically anything to try and make sense of what had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. Aside from probably alerting the FBI to your strange Google searches, you had just as much information as you did when you first started.
Nothing.
Your fingers were itching to text Cassie and finally tell her what happened. However, you knew that the second you sent that text, Cassie would break every speed limit to make it back home in less than a day, or somehow manage to have the National Guard and the CIA show up at your house and take you away for questioning. No, this story was better left for when she returned home, and she could see that you weren't in the middle of a mental breakdown.
So, instead of telling her about your Spaceman and his green, hairless Furby, you texted her with pictures of the storm damage. At Rosie's request, you sent proof-of-life pictures of Alfredo to show that her favorite chicken, a white Silkie (who, at most, possessed one singular brain cell), was alive and well. While you sent pictures of chickens and the farm, in return, you got pictures of Cassie and Rosie on the beach, along with some of the seashells they collected. There was even one terrifying picture of Cassie's mother, bandaged and bruised after her cosmetic surgeries.
After the jump scare of seeing her mother's face bandaged, your texts quickly derailed into quips about the titles of the horror movie Cassie's mother would be starring in, but no mention of space cowboys or radioactive Furbies.
It was for the best.
But now that night had fallen, and you'd picked at some leftovers for dinner, your thoughts returned to the armored chunk of storm debris. Where did he end up? How long before he made it to town, got the Sheriff called on him, and had Grogu taken from him by animal control…
It shouldn't bother you.
The man pulled a gun on you, for fuck's sake…
But there was something you saw in those deep, brown, soulful eyes that made you sympathize with him. Whatever head injury he had, it made the man truly believe he was a spaceman from another planet. He was scared and tried to protect himself and his… child. Pulling his gun on you was an act of self-defense. Except for your phone, he never actually fired the gun. Well, fired it at you anyway. Even when he pulled you against him, he never actually hurt you, and you had no doubt he could if he wanted to.
Then there was the stranger's biggest green flag.
Grogu.
And not just because the Furby was green.
It was how the man interacted with it, how he treated it with a kindness that was hard to mesh with his otherwise sparkling (insert sarcasm here) personality. You smiled as you recalled the moment from earlier in the afternoon, after he'd finished his sandwich and come to join you in the living room. How he shuffled slowly beside Grogu, matching the tiny creature's pace as they crossed the living room. If he treated that little green guy like that, surely he couldn't be a completely terrible person, right? You'd always judged people by how they treated animals, had your whole life, and your gut was telling you there was someone good buried under all of that armor.
Now that you were even more confused than when you started this line of thinking, you decided to treat yourself to the relaxing night you'd been deprived of last night.
The cool evening air was too lovely to pass up. Spring would be over in the blink of an eye, bringing hot, humid summer weather, and you weren't ready for it. You enjoyed wearing a shirt and jeans during the day, and having a chill in the air at night.
You craved the spring and fall. Summer was too hot, and winter was too frigid. Unfortunately, your two favorite seasons were too short, sometimes only lasting a few weeks, and also brought storms as the Earth battled through the seasonal changes. Still, on a good night, there was nothing better than sitting on the front porch with a hoodie and blanket, reading or talking with Cassie, or having bonfires and cooking s'mores with Rosie while you tried to prevent her from completely disintegrating her marshmallow.
With or without your friends, sometimes, the only cure for a long day was a stiff drink outside while you tried to clear your mind.
And after this day, you decided you needed something stronger than a glass of wine. Which is how you found yourself on the front porch, rocking in your chair while you nursed a glass of whiskey, with your book in hand, trying to let yourself get swept up in the story and push the absurd events from earlier out of your mind.
However, getting swept up in the story was easier said than done.
The words blurred together on the page, and you realized that you hadn't actually read a single word since you'd opened the damn thing.
"Stupid spacemen," you muttered to yourself as you took a deep breath and tried to focus once more.
But…
What if someone did call the Sheriff on your Spaceman?
Wait.
More concerningly, when did he become your Spaceman?
"Ugh," you groaned as you closed the book and pinched the bridge of your nose to ward off the impending headache. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel for the evening.
But could you throw in the towel for the evening? Could you sleep tonight, knowing there was a guy who thought he was from outer space, walking along the country roads with his radioactive Furby, and you just let him go without trying to find him some help? Well, not that you could have really stopped him from storming out of your house earlier that day, but you were fairly certain you were obligated to report him to the authorities at least, or the Department of Human Services, or someone better equipped to help a man going through a crisis.
As you were in the middle of weighing the options of letting it go versus pulling the bike back out of the garage and going on the hunt for your wayward piece of storm debris, you heard the distinctive sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel drive.
Considering that the gravel drive from the main road to your house was a little over half a mile, the only company you got was the expected kind. So footsteps meant your neighbor at the next farm over was taking a late-night stroll to check on you after last night's storm, or…
You sagged in relief at the flash of silver as it trudged up the drive.
Like the two stray barn cats you kept feeding (at Rosie's behest), your newest strays came trudging back up the drive.
"No luck finding a ride to the moon?" you asked, but the teasing smile slipped from your face when the man and his green pet gave you the most pitiful, dejected looks you'd ever seen. The man shook his head. "Want a drink?" you offered, lifting your tumbler of whiskey to show him that you weren't just offering water.
He nodded as he took the steps to the front porch. They both looked exhausted. The weather was nice and all, but you could only imagine how hot he had gotten wearing all that armor and thick clothes underneath. Your suspicions were confirmed shortly when your Spaceman sank into the rocking chair beside yours, and you caught a whiff of the sweat and country grime that had accumulated on him over the last day. When Grogu's overly large black eyes looked to you for help, you gave the creature a sympathetic smile as you offered its owner your glass.
You turned your sympathetic eyes from the adorable Grogu to the devastatingly handsome, devastated man sitting beside you. You watched with raised brows as the man accepted the glass and downed it in one go.
"You wanna talk about it?" you asked, doing your best to keep the sarcasm out of your voice.
He stared into the bottom of the glass before letting out a long, frustrated sigh and setting it on the table between your chairs, then looked out at the sprawling farmland across from the porch. "I didn't know where else to go," he rasped.
"That's okay," came your soft reply, and, sensing he had more to say, you remained quiet as he gathered his thoughts.
The man shook his head but kept his gaze on the field. "I can't explain it, but this place feels wrong. I don't know what happened, or how we got here, or even where here is," he whispered.
"You're on planet Earth," you teased, but your smile fell again when his head rolled to give you another heartbreaking look.
"Earth?" he asked quietly. "I've traveled through all the rims and have never heard of Earth."
You shouldn't indulge the man. Really, you shouldn't, but… "When you say traveling," you began, pausing to purse your lips to keep from smiling. "Do you mean traveling in a spaceship?"
The man's face flickered before settling on a look you could only describe as "duh." "How else would you travel to another planet?"
Well, ask a stupid question…
"How would I know? I've only traveled outside of this miserable state a handful of times. I can't even picture going to another country, much less another planet," you shrugged. "I didn't know if you had transporters like Star Trek." Two sets of dark, unimpressed eyes stared back at you. "Ya know, beam me up, Scotty? No?" Two pairs of eyes blinked back at you simultaneously. "Tough crowd," you muttered before trying to bring your thoughts back to the problem at hand. "Sooooo… If you haven't heard of Earth, what if that means it isn't in one of your… rims?"
One of his dark brows lifted at the question. "Like deep in wild space?" he asked, seemingly open to the idea, as his face shifted and his eyes narrowed on you. "Wait, does this mean you believe we're from another planet?"
"Nooo," you corrected quickly, letting out a long, drawn-out breath that brought a frown to your guest's face. "I believe you think you're from another planet, but I'm not really sure how to prove you wrong, so we can just go with it for now." At the man's continued scowl, you took the tumbler back from him. "How about another drink?"
"Sure," he sighed, giving up way too easily compared to earlier, and you watched him turn his gaze to look out over the darkened farmland across the gravel drive once again.
"Two whiskeys and an apple juice coming up," you announced with a soft smile to the tiny Furby settled in on its keeper's lap.
"Thanks," he nodded.
You could almost watch the last dregs of his hope evaporate before your eyes as he sighed and let his head fall back against the chair.
"No problem," you murmured, sharing a concerned look with Grogu as you got up to refill your drinks. "Hey, I don't think I ever caught your name?"
"That's because I haven't told you," he replied, but all of the bark was gone from his voice.
"Well then, Spaceman, you can just call me Dorothy," you snarked back, shaking your head in disbelief at what your life has come to.
"Thanks, Dorothy," he mumbled as you passed by him.
The way the name came so easily from the man made you stop at the screen door and turn back to give him a quizzical look. "It's the Wizard of Oz," you informed him, narrowing your eyes to see if he was being serious.
"Huh?" he asked, turning back to look at you, obviously confused by the reference.
"Dorothy, Tin Man, Kansas, the red ruby slippers, they're all Wizard of Oz references," you explained, scrunching your nose. "You… You really have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" you asked quietly, and your gut twisted, reminding you that something was very much wrong with this picture.
"No," came his softly spoken answer before his head turned from you to look back out over the farmland, looking even more lost than when he took a seat beside you.
Your eyes fell to the pointy-eared creature sitting in the man's lap, trying to cheer him up, and you wondered what the chances were that you had actual aliens sitting on your front porch. The man was clearly human, but Grogu…
Before you could think too hard about it, you let yourself in to make your guests their drinks.
Your feet took you down the small entryway hallway that served as the border between the kitchen and living room, then continued to the small downstairs half-bath and the main bedroom at the very end of the hallway that you'd let Cassie have when she moved in. The warm, yellow light beckoned as you turned right and headed to the kitchen table, where you'd left the bottle of whiskey before stepping out onto the porch.
You wish you could say you were surprised by your Spaceman and his Furby returning, but also, after the last twenty-four hours, you didn't think much could surprise you. It was just trying to figure out what to do with them now that they were here. The green digital clock on the microwave caught your eye as you poured Grogu some apple juice into the pink sippy cup. It was after nine already…
The lost Spaceman's mournful brown eyes flashed in your mind, and while you knew what you were going to offer was insane considering the man pulled a gun on you earlier today… If he turned you down, he turned you down, but the right thing to do was to offer them a safe place to clean up and get some sleep. The man could have gone anywhere or slept under a bridge, but he came back to you.
As you reached the screen door, drinks in hand, the Spaceman's deep baritone voice floated through it, and you realized he was speaking to Grogu.
"It's gonna be okay, kid," he murmured to the green creature, and you smiled as you watched through the screen as he gently caressed Grogu's wrinkled head. "I'll find a way to get us back and get you to your Jedi. I promise."
Maybe after they've had a chance to clean up and get some rest, you could help them approach their problem from a different angle. At the very least, you could maybe convince him to go to the ER under the guise of having one of your doctors check the wound on his head, but have them subtly evaluate the man for brain damage and see what they thought about a psych consult… but that was tomorrow's problem.
"Order up," you announced quietly as you slipped back onto the porch and offered your guests their respective drinks.
"Thanks," came your Spaceman's quiet response as he accepted his tumbler and the pink sippy cup from your hands. "You didn't have to."
"It's okay," you shrugged as you settled back into your rocking chair. "You look like you needed a drink more than I did."
The man sipped on his drink, but you caught his now-familiar deep scowl forming on his lips as he stared into the dark amber beverage.
"We walked around all afternoon," he said more to his drink than to you. "I thought you were kidding about not having spaceports, but all of your vehicles are combustible engines, and the few aircrafts that I've seen don't look like -"
"They could travel to space?" you interjected with a smirk, but the man wasn't smiling back.
"I spent hours in one of your fields once the sunset, trying to match these stars to any of my charts," he continued, lifting his left arm, but all you saw was more armor. Armor with buttons, but still armor. "I don't know where I am," he repeated, almost so softly you couldn't hear him. "And if I don't know where we are, or how we got here, how am I supposed to find our way home?"
Maybe that psych consult should be a little higher up on that list for tomorrow…
"Look, I'm just a farm girl," you began slowly, choosing each word carefully. "And as much as you want me to believe you, you also have to believe me that the things you are saying and describing aren't things that exist here, except for like TV shows and movies."
The man's dark eyes seemed to glaze over as he processed what you were saying.
"I want to believe that you're a spaceman, traveling along with your little green sidekick," you said with a shrug and a smile at Grogu. "I actually think it would be cool to go up there and travel amongst the stars and see different planets," you admitted with a sheepish smile as you turned your attention to the night sky. "I've always liked Sci-Fi stuff, but that's all it is. Science fiction. So, until we figure out how to have a working flying car, or maybe even a functional jet pack, much less a legitimate spaceship to travel to another planet when this one becomes too much… Well, let's say I may be a hick from the boonies, but I'm a hick who is gonna need more evidence than some random guy telling me he's an alien."
Brown eyes searched yours until a blush crept on your cheeks in the silence.
"Sorry," you murmured, downing a deep drink from your tumbler to ignore his intense gaze. "That was a lot of -"
"C'mere," he murmured, stopping you in your tracks.
You blinked in confusion, and that confusion only grew when you watched the stranger get up from his chair. "Huh?" was the only thing you could think to say as the man settled Grogu into the spot he had just occupied in the rocking chair.
"I said, c'mere," he repeated, offering one of his gloved hands toward you.
With a frown, you looked to Grogu, but found the small creature more interested in rocking the chair back and forth than in giving you any insights. "Where are we going?
"Not far," he answered, hand still outstretched for you to take, and even wiggled the yellow tips of his fingers at your hesitation.
Cautiously, you placed your hand in his and let him help you up, setting your half-empty glass of whiskey on the small wicker table between the two rocking chairs. Hopefully, the man didn't have anything up his sleeve, because all you were currently wearing was a pair of purple, fuzzy pajama pants and an old college hoodie from your nursing school days over your tank top.
The man gave Grogu a pointed look and said, "Behave," as he tugged you by the hand, leading you down the wooden stairs to the yard.
"But seriously, where are we going?" you asked as the armored man continued to lead you by the hand across the gravel drive to the patch of grass that led to the field on the other side of the fence. "Because if we're going far, I need to put my Crocs into sport mode," you commented as you looked down at the obnoxious yellow rubber shoes that were your easy go-to when you needed to putter around on the porch or the garden.
"Right here," he announced, bringing you to a stop.
"Okaaayyyyy," you breathed, looking around for whatever he'd brought you out here to see. "And what am I supposed to be seeing?" you asked, when all you could see was darkened farmland.
"If I can do something that will prove what I've been trying to tell you, will you believe that Grogu and I aren't from this planet?" he asked, his intense dark eyes fixed on you. A quiet snort escaped you before you could stop yourself. "I'm serious," he continued, but you just shook your head in a combination of disbelief and amusement. "You just said that your planet doesn't have flying cars, jet packs, or spaceships, right?"
"Well, I mean, we have spaceships," you argued. "We've been to space and the moon, but if your spaceship is cloaked somewhere out in the field, then be my guest," you snarked, wagging your eyebrows at the man.
"If I still had my ship, I wouldn't be drinking your alcohol and asking for your help," he countered with a quirked brow.
"You have your own ship?" The question came before your brain could filter your mouth, and you wanted to slap yourself for likely fueling the man's delusions.
Instead of answering your question, you got your first real smile from your armored stranger. "Here," he murmured. "Hold tight," he instructed, taking your hand, which you didn't realize he was still holding, to loop around his neck.
"Wait," you frowned, and attempted to pull away, but he held your hand, still keeping your arm around his neck. "What are you doing?"
"Do you trust me?"
"Trust you? The man who shot my phone and held me at gunpoint earlier today?" came your immediate, flat, deadpan response, but the insufferable man only smirked at you.
He gave a nonchalant shrug before replying with, "If I wanted you dead, you would have been by now."
"Charming," you snarked, but the man still wasn't budging. "Alright," you sighed, looping your other arm over his neck. "But if this is you trying to kiss me or get into my pants, I am very familiar with anatomy and know where to make it hurt," you threatened, narrowing your eyes at him to sound as menacing as possible.
"Noted," he replied with an amused smirk.
You kept your gaze focused on his head. At the same time, he shifted in the grass, moving you into whatever position was necessary to support whatever delusional point he was trying to prove. When the man pulled you tighter into his chest, you narrowed your eyes further, but he just continued smirking at you. The man's fists clenched, and his wrists began twisting back and forth. You waited, giving him a few more seconds before you called it quits and immediately started searching for how to get him admitted as quickly as possible.
A loud noise, like a plane or a fire, roared to life, making your head swivel in all directions to determine where it came from, only to discover too late that the strange metal backpack you'd struggled to remove from his armor last night was shooting flames out of the bottom.
"Hang on," was the only warning you received before you were immediately launched into the air.
"What the fuck?!" you screeched, but the man's right arm that was wrapped tightly around your waist held firm, keeping you pinned to his chest.
"Hold still!" he yelled into your ear, making you immediately lock onto his neck in a death grip. You would let the man's amused chuckle slide for the time being, at least until you were back on solid ground and could throttle him, but only after your life was safe. And then his head leaned down so he could speak into your ear. "Look," came his soft words, and the combination of his low, baritone voice and how his lips almost grazed your ear because he was so close sent a shiver down your spine.
You hadn't even realized that your eyes were clenched shut until he said something. With gritted teeth, you forced your eyes open and gasped at the amazing sights surrounding you.
The thrusters on his pack fell silent, allowing you to hover in the air and get a once-in-a-lifetime look at your home and the miles of farmland surrounding it. You were high up in the air, well above your two-story home. High enough to see the tiny patches of light from your neighbors' farms and the familiar lights of the town in the distance. Even at night, with only the crescent moon illuminating the countryside around you, it was one of the most breathtaking views you'd ever witnessed.
And then your moment of wonder turned to fear when the flames shooting out of the man's fucking jet pack shut off, making you scream and scramble as you began to fall, but the man's grip held firm.
"I've got you," he murmured in your ear again as the jet pack alternated between off and on in short bursts, allowing you to descend slowly back to the ground.
Once the two of you were back on the gravel drive, you let go of the man's neck but shifted to grip his forearms, not quite trusting that your feet were back on the ground just yet.
When you felt the man's gloves gently squeeze your elbow, you let go of his arms with a blush. "We were-You-And," you stuttered, mouth flapping like a fish, pointing at the man and then up into the sky. "You have a jet pack!"
The man just stood there in the grass, keeping his distance with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
A jet pack… Holy fucking shit balls…
"Are you okay?" he asked, tilting his head as he studied you, still grinning at your utter bewilderment.
"That was… That was incredible!" you shouted, bracing your hands on either side of your head as you spun in a slow circle. "We were," you stopped to point up at the sky, and the man only smiled and nodded along with you, making delirious laughter bubble up from deep inside your chest.
Adrenaline flooded your veins as you charged at the man. Brown eyes watched with amusement as you ran to inspect the jet pack hiding behind his cape.
"H-How?" you stuttered, trying to figure out how he could operate it without any wires or attachments.
"My vambraces," he explained, holding out his arms for you to inspect. "They operate most everything, from the pack to the other weapons. The helmet helps, but I can still use a lot of the functions the suit has."
"Other weapons?" you asked as your eyes fell to the large gun hanging from his hip.
With a sly quirk of his lips, the man held his arm to the side and, with a twist and flick of his wrist, flames shot from his arm.
"Oh, my god." What were you supposed to say to that? The man had a phaser, a jet pack, and a flamethrower. "Wait, when you were saying that our stars didn't match your charts and you lifted your wrist…"
He brought one of his vambraces closer to press a couple of buttons, and you felt like a kid in a Doctor Who Christmas special when a hologram of what seemed to be a galaxy was illuminated by a three-dimensional yellow-orange glow.
"Shut up!" you gasped, and immediately plunged your hand into the picture, unable to stop the laughter from rising as it distorted the image.
"So, believe I'm a spaceman yet?" he asked, pausing to turn off the hologram.
Words temporarily left you as you watched him stomp on a small patch of grass that had caught fire during his flamethrower demonstration.
"I… I'm finding it hard to come up with an argument to that right now," you panted out, putting a hand to your chest while you struggled to catch your breath and wrap your mind around what you just witnessed.
"Look, Dorothy," the man began, and it took you a couple of seconds to realize he honestly thought your name was Dorothy before you turned to give him your full attention. "I have no right to ask for more of your hospitality after my behavior earlier, and if it were just me, I wouldn't even be here, but I need someplace safe for the kid while we regroup, and he seems to like you."
Right. You only met this man and his radioactive Furby twenty-four hours ago. Not to mention that ten minutes ago, you were ready to have him committed for being a crazy person who got sucked up by a tornado while he was experiencing a breakdown, thinking he could get to outer space, but now…
"I'm not saying no, but let's just say that hypothetically I am inclined to believe some of your story, possibly… I'm not sure I'm the best person for you guys," you admitted with an apologetic look, suddenly feeling out of your depth. "I don't know anything about space or spaceships, so I'm probably not your best bet at finding your way home."
"You're probably right," he started, and gave an exhausted shrug. "But you're the only person we've encountered who has extended any help. We'll sleep on the porch or in your barn if you would rather," he offered, pausing to point at the dark barn at the end of the drive. "I just need to make sure the kid is safe, and you may not trust me, but… after watching you with Grogu, I trust you."
Well, shit.
"Alright," came your muted response. "I've got an extra room you two can crash in tonight as long as you promise to keep the weapons holstered," you leveled. "All of them."
The man's shoulders sagged slightly from relief at your words, and he nodded his silent agreement to your terms.
"I'm gonna need more than a nod," you told him, keeping your face serious. "I'm gonna need you to make the most sacred oath that our planet has to offer."
The man instantly squared his shoulders and held his head high, clearly prepared to do whatever it took to keep his green sidekick safe. However, when you extended your hand with your pinky outstretched, you couldn't help but snicker at the sheer bewilderment that crossed his face.
"It's called a pinky promise," you explained, not even bothering to hide your smile when the man's eyebrow arched high on his forehead. "You take your pinky and lock it with mine, and that's it. Pinky promise complete."
"And what do people in your culture do if someone breaks a… pinky promise?" he asked, stepping closer to you.
"Depends, do you plan on breaking it?" When he shook his head, you gave him a soft smile in return. "Well, it can range in severity of the offense. The punishment can range anywhere from a scolding to shunning someone forever, to completely shutting someone out of your life, but if you're not gonna break it, then we don't have to worry about that, do we?"
The man sighed, seemingly accepting of his fate, but before he could complete the promise, you had to stop him.
"Gloves off," you ordered.
He seemed completely oblivious to your utter delight as he finagled his right wrist, vambrace, you corrected, off before removing his glove and offering you his hand, mimicking your current pose with his pinky outstretched.
You met him halfway, entwining your pinkies for three full seconds before nodding at him.
"It's done," came your solemn whisper, and the man pulled his arm back to begin covering it with his glove and armor again. "C'mon," you murmured, nodding back to the porch, where Grogu was now standing on the rocking chair, making it rock as fast as possible. The creature's giggles floated across the drive to where you stood beside its keeper. The man sighed at his Furby, but you giggled along with the adorable creature. "Let's finish our drinks. Everything will look a little better tomorrow after you've gotten a hot shower and a good night's sleep."
"Thanks, Dorothy," your Spaceman said as the two of you returned to the porch.
"Hey, if we're gonna use code names, can I have a cooler code name than Dorothy?" you teased, smirking when he scrunched his brows in confusion as you reached the top of the porch. "No offense, but it's kinda an old name, ya know? And if y'all are really sticking with the whole space story, then I think Elliott would be more appropriate, given the circumstances," you continued, giggling when the man just stared back at you as if he were unsure what to say to that. "I'm guessing you're not familiar with E.T. either?" At the man's slow shake of his head, your smile split your face open. "You've got a lot of homework, Spaceman."
The strange armored man seemed to give up, shrugging. "As long as that homework helps us find our way back home, I'll give anything a try, Dorothy."
Well, so much for getting him to drop Dorothy.
You took one last look at the man in full armor, cape, and a jet pack, then looked behind you at the green goblin entertaining himself in the rocking chair, and looked back at your Spaceman with a shrug.
"You never know," came your offer, and the man gave an exhausted nod. "But how about we start with getting you a hot shower and a good night's sleep, and see what tomorrow brings us?"
A soft smile spread across your face as you watched the man give you a grateful nod before he grabbed Grogu from the rocking chair. "Thanks, Dorothy," he huffed, sharing your amused smile.
"C'mon, Spaceman," you said, waving him to follow you inside. "Let me give you the tour."
🌪️ A/N: I hope this story makes y'all smile as much as it makes me smile 🧡
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
🧡 Tag List: @racheldon @leeroyjagginz @djarins-cyare @higgsvoidoutPlease drop a comment or send me a message if you'd like to be added to the tag list 🧡
Country Roads Masterlist
Next chapter in series - Chapter 4: Cookies and Twenty Questions
Pairings: Fem!Earthling!Reader x Din Djarin
Status: WIP
Rating: Mature... for now... MINORS DNI
Synopsis: You’re a nurse who owns and runs a farm in rural America. You’re doing the best you can to get by when Mother Nature decides to complicate your life even more than it already was by having a tornado drop a man and his radioactive Furby onto your truck. That’s it. That’s the story... Well, that’s all you had expected the story to be, something to laugh about once the shock wore off, and everyone went their separate ways. Too bad (or lucky for you, you’re still unsure), life had other plans for you, the strange armored man and his strange green sidekick.
No use of y/n
Country Roads AO3 Link
🌪️Chapter 1: Flying Debris (Word count: 3.2k)
🧡Chapter Summary: April 2nd, twenty-twenty something, otherwise known as the day a tornado dropped a man from outer space on your pickup.
🎵Chapter Soundtrack - "Ain't No Love In Oklahoma" - Luke Combs
AO3 Link
🌪️Chapter 2: Stranger Danger (Word count: 8.2k)
🧡Chapter Summary: April 2nd, twenty-twenty something, otherwise known as the day a tornado dropped a man from outer space on your pickup… and you have to figure out what to do with him.
Chapters 1 and 2 are officially live on Tumblr and AO3 for your reading pleasure 🧡
Truly FLOORED by the response the teaser got 🧡 Honestly, I don't have the words, but so thankful for the positive interactions y'all gave it.
Tagging the moots who requested, or reblogged the teaser, so y'all know where the new link is moving forward. But if you'd like to be added to the tag list, drop a comment, and I'll tag you when chapter 3 is up.
@racheldon @leeroyjagginz @djarins-cyare @higgsvoidout @abandonedreaper
