It’s my own take on what happens after “A Study in Ichor” ends. It also introduces a few more beloved ZR characters and how I like to imagine them fitting in to that universe.
You don’t have to have run the Ichor missions to follow along with the story, but there are major spoilers for that series.
I’ll be posting a new chapter every Tuesday and Friday on Ao3 until the series is complete!
Summary = Din is jealous of you reading to the Child so you read to him
A/N = I wrote this pre-watching season 2 so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Edit = Cross posted to AO3!
Masterlist
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You’ve been working with the Mandalorian for a while now. How you managed to worm your way onto this ship you didn’t know but it definitely had something to do with how much the child loved you. In return you loved him, especially at night, after he’d eaten and was quieting down.
Reading to him relaxed you as much as it did him and the Mandalorian always watched. At first, you had assumed that he didn’t trust you, but as time went on, you realised it wasn’t that. He trusted you to protect the child from dangerous bandits, but not to tuck him in at night? It didn’t make sense.
And one night it clicked. He enjoyed the stories. Sometimes he even went so far as to suggest one - though it was never in a way that implied he really cared. Always accompanied with a shrug, he’d say that you haven’t read that one in a while, or he enjoyed that one last time. He never said anything if you picked a different one, but by this point you’d spent so long reading his body language that you could see from the way his shoulders tensed that he wasn’t happy.
He watches and listens as you read, and he’s there when you stand to tuck the child in, always gone when you turn to leave yourself. You never hear him leave, the door silent. How the Mandolarian manages to be so quiet with all that armour on is a mystery you haven’t solved, although you think he likes it when you ask.
One night you landed on a particularly cold planet, snow as far as the eye could see. The Razor Crest was a cold ship anyway, something you grumbled about to Mando, but this night the frost permeated the ship to its depths. Ice crystals were forming on the inside of the walls, which, as you pointed out to Mando, was not normal. His reply had been to find some extra blankets for you, dropping them off in your bunk after you finished putting the child to bed.
When you woke in the middle of the night, you were cold. From your toes to your nose, you were cold. With a sigh you pulled some extra woolley clothing on, buried deep in your wardrobe that you wouldn’t normally touch. You were still cold. There was no other choice. Grumbling and moaning, you hauled as many of your blankets to the cockpit as you could carry, creating a sort of nest on the co-pilot's chair. Mando wasn’t there, yet you still didn’t dare sit in his chair.
You switched on the heating, pointing the fan at you and sighed in pleasure as it hit your body and began to warm you up. Finally your eyes got heavier and heavier, and you were just about to fall asleep when the doors hissed open, cold air rushing in, hitting your neck and a modulated voice spoke. “What are you doing?” His voice wasn’t cross, as you’d anticipated, spinning in the chair and staring at him with wide eyes.
“Cyar’ika am I really so bad that you’re still scared of me?” He finally closes the door, slumping in his chair. He’s taken off more of his armour than you’ve ever seen, only his helmet and chest plates remaining. He has on a thin cotton shirt, and annoyingly he doesn’t seem to feel the cold. You relax back into your chair as you reply. “No,” your voice is petulant, like a child. “I’m not scared of you, you just make me jump.” An unfamiliar sound scapes from him, light as air. “Is - was that a laugh?” You grin, your mood inexplicably lifted. “Did I really make you laugh, Mando?” He keeps chuckling, and you keep going, anything to hear the sound again. “You just take pleasure from my pain - well, one day you’ll give me a heart attack and then you’ll be sorry!”
Another happy huff leaves him and the sound makes your heart glow. “Din.” It’s the only reply you get and you turn sideways to look at him, confused. He clears his throat before elaborating. “My name, it’s Din.” Your mouth drops open in a small ‘o’ shape as the weight of the level of trust that demonstrates in you registers. You nod once, trying it out. “Din.” And if there’s a small grin on your face as you repeat it, he doesn’t say anything. “Nice to meet you.”
“So Din.” Now you know his name, you can’t stop saying it, the sound sending a small thrill through you each time. “Why are you in the cockpit?” His helmet doesn’t move, tipped back on the headrest. “I couldn’t sleep.” And maybe you brushed your teeth with truth toothpaste that evening, because once the idea has popped into your head, you’re speaking it into existence without thinking of the repercussions. “Din. Do you want me to read to you?” That gets his attention, the helmet staring at you and you get the feeling he’s not blinking in shock.
But you end up sitting next to Din on his bed, your back against the wall, with his head by your hips. You’ve wrapped your blankets around your shoulders, protecting you from the cold behind you, although you’re not sure how Din’s going to fall asleep with the helmet on, or with his chest plates on for that matter, but you take your cues from him. You’ve picked a book that you know he likes, but you don’t often read due to the length, and it’s sitting in your lap as you wait for him to settle.
Absentmindedly you fluff his blanket so that it’s covering him properly and there’s a beat where nothing in the room moves, the two of you breathing together. He’s warm, even through the blanket and your legs are warming up where they rest against his body.
You start reading, and your voice is a little croaky at the beginning, but it soon warms up, and you can feel Din relaxing at your side. You try not to smile too hard as his head tips to one side, keeping your voice even as you turn the pages. You sink into the mattress more and more as he relaxes further, and you shift away, needing to adjust to keep your balance.
You’re reading from a small light on the wall behind you, a soft warm light that is soon swallowed by the darkness of Din’s room, and as you get nearer to the end of the book, you find it harder and harder to keep going. Your voice is quieter than when you started and you’re so warm. But you make it through till the end of the story and with a great effort, you start to peel yourself away from the warm spot you made on the bed. And then Din moves. “Don’t go.” His voice is soft through the modulator.
You pause, your feet hanging off the edge of the bed as you involuntarily shiver. “It’s cold.” He’s mumbling and you can tell he’s half asleep, but he’s right and you really don’t want to go. So you lie back, tucking your blankets in, and fall asleep next to Din.
imagine sam getting invited to all these big fancy events and worker five just reveling in the power move of not knowing who any of these rich and powerful people are
