Luck
Din Djarin x Fem!reader (no y/n)
Rating-T
A follower celebration for my main blog. 🎁🥳 For @pedropastelpascal they graciously accepted my offer of a gift and then was so sweet to want to write an amazing story for me too called Relief! It's really excellent, go follow and give it a read! I'm so happy I took a chance and reached out to a member of this really wonderful fandom.
Word Count- 5,963
Summary: You and Din have said goodbye to the kid. You're traveling in the newly acquired replacement for the original Razor Crest, on a slow journey to Tatooine. A confession and admission is interrupted by a catastrophic accident that leaves one of you breathless.
Warnings-Two idiots in love, blood, peril, vomit. 9-1-1 but make it Star Wars. Please enjoy this soft, whumpy fic.
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MY MASTERLIST
It's quiet on the crest right now. It's been quiet on the crest. No pattering of tiny feet or silly coos and gurgles. No sudden jolts up your spine from the sound of a little green baby making mischief. You miss the sigh Din let out when it was his turn to go check, the creak of the pilot chair as he reluctantly got up.
In fact, this isn't even the crest you remember, it's an entirely different ship. It sounds different, smells different but you know, soon enough, Din will have it feeling like home again. The ship is in desperate need of repair. You've been prepping a rewire for hours now, stripping and capping, and removing panels. What you can do while the ship slowly takes you to Tatooine. Your hands ache but you insisted on getting started and hopefully, soon you'll be landing at Peli's where you will all be working to make this ship less hazardous. Tubes are cracking, cables rusted but the bandages you've put in place should get you there safely. It has to, the escape pod is non-existent.
Your butt is numb from sitting, crouched and hunched on the hard, cold durasteel. The grating of the floor has left imprints in your skin and your fingertips are red from friction. Rising slowly you groan and stretch, your legs tingle as they regain feeling. Din dozed off in the pilot's seat, he hates traveling sublight and loses patience. Falling asleep, cleaning his weapons or reading is the safest way for him to pass the time. He won't ruminate on the kid or start major work on the ship. That could prove disastrous should something fail, like your air being poisoned by a leak or a massive electrical failure leaving you with no life support. No, sleep would be the best thing, you convinced him. "Whatever you say, Princess."
He started calling you princess after one particular job months ago. You're flooded with the memory.
"You do…you look like an actual princess. You'll draw everyone's eye. I asked for a distraction, like spilling a drink or something. I don't think you'll have to lift a finger. You look…mesh'la, beautiful, you always do." He'd never called you anything in Mando'a before, he'd never called you beautiful before.
On that same job, he had offered to go in by himself, it was easy for him to go incognito. No one knew his face yet and he had already broken his creed. But you wanted to support him and not force him to further his already growing guilt and conflicted feelings. You've supported him always, since the day you met on Mos Pelgos. He needed a partner to help watch the kid and you needed out of that town. You got one look at him before he put the helmet back on after the boy left with the Jedi. The pain in his gorgeous brown eyes wasn't worth it. The thought of convincing him to leave it off passed in and out of your mind quickly. You try to remember all the features you took note of. His eyes are the ones that haunt you. You love him. You love him. You have to tell him you love him. Everytime you linked your arm to his, it was too casual. Every hug you've given him has been too short. You've fought the physical attraction long enough and you can't deny the deep emotional connection any more. You need him, mind, body and soul.
If it's not soon then it's certainly the next time you find him sleeping beside you when accomodations give no other option. That's been happening a lot lately. So much in fact you invested in an eye mask so he can go helmetless. Feeling his body heat near you filled you with wonderful misery. So close and so far away, but you knew, something had changed. The sign he was feeling those romantic feelings too, came just hours ago.
Last sleep cycle you woke in the middle of it, he had rolled over close to you on the large sleeper mat the seller threw in with the ship. His warm, unarmored body was right against you, his long heavy arm draped over your stomach. He doubled the blanket over you by giving you his half. In the pitch black you felt his hand curve around your waist, his fingers gripping you, pulling you closer, his chin touching your shoulder, his breath on your neck. Just the thin sleeve, between you and his whiskers. You arched your back, carefully adjusting a little. He raised his chin, "sorry", he murmured, sleepily.
He lifted his hand, ready to retract, you found it quickly in the dark. Din stopped pulling away, you guided his hand back where it was. You whispered one command, "Stay".
Din said nothing, he put his chin back and his fingers curled into you again. You drifted back off to sleep. He arose before you. Neither of you have mentioned it since you woke up. In fact, your shared shyness has left you both breaking lingering glances quickly and avoiding the casual touches you've both adopted. Din's hand resting on your shoulder as he comes up behind you to reach for something. Or the way his hands greet your waist when he has to squeeze by you. This morning you ducked out of his way and you've been cursing yourself for hours.
You hear boots hitting the floor hard and a slight clatter of metal.
"You've been down here too long princess" He strides over, hands on his hips, helmet firmly in place. Din stands watching you nurse your hands. "You okay?"
Nodding away the memories you respond,"I thought you'd still be sleeping." You rub your palms together and stretch your fingers.
Din's tone is soft, "I can't sleep with you, down here, working without me. We haven't even made it out of the mid-rim. Let me see." He curls his gloved hand, beckoning you to show him your aching digits. Your heart skips a beat.
You loan one hand out and he takes it, pressing carefully, rubbing each throbbing finger. "Mmm, that helps. Thank you. You're a good friend." You bite your cheek and wince at your own voice.
He takes in a deep breath through his modulator, you expect words to follow but they don't. His shoulders are tense as he stands tall. He lets go of your hand carefully. He's shiny. Polishing and working on his beskar'gam has been another way to pass time. You watch as he slips his gloves off, dropping them to the floor as he takes your other hand. His skin is warmer than yours, as the circulation was made poor working in the cold hull. He kneads at your palm slowly, his helmet fixed on the task. A tingle climbs up your arm and down your spine. He moves slower and slower until he is just holding your hand flat in-between both of his. He inhales again, his shoulders and chest rising, "I can't be your friend."
Your lip twitches and your mouth floods with the taste of adrenaline, "I love you." You say it quickly and succinctly. Time slows down or speeds up, you can't be sure which.
Din's gaze darts up quickly, his helmet with it, to look from your hands to you. You can't hear his pounding heart.
Shaking your head, "I can't be your friend either, I love you!" You huff and shrug, "I love you." You fix yourself on his brown eyes under the helmet. Your body is filled with an excitement that has you practically tremoring. He's the one you tell everything to. He listens and knows what to say. He makes you feel safe. You'd tear yourself apart if you ever hurt him. You'd tear fate and the galaxy in half if it decides to take him from you.
"I want us to be more" He says almost too loud for the closeness in the small space. "One day…you could be my Riduur."
Your blank, shocked expression keeps Din talking. You know what Riduur means but maybe he doesn't know you know.
"I hope that's okay," He says. You can see the apple of his throat bounce in the open space between his collar and his helmet. His cape usually covers it, it's still in the cockpit. "Will you…give me a chance?"
You throw your hand over your mouth. You nod, subtlety, too subtle, a yes. Your cheeks grow hot as your eyes begin to burn with fresh tears. Of course, you've both been so stupid pretending you were mere colleagues.
Din stands firm, his hands drop to his side. He flexes one, waiting for you to speak. He shifts his weight, watching the white's of your eyes turn red. An odd hiss comes from behind you. Din looks at the noise before you even fully register what is happening. You don't see the mist leaking out through a seam in the paneling of the hull. Your work light on the floor shines through the deadly fuel vapor that's twisting its way out like a specter.
"Fuck," he says flatly before he grabs you around the waist,shoving you ahead. Trying not to trip on the wires and tools, you climb the ladder to the cockpit with as much urgency as you can muster. Your hands are still shaking from your confessions.
"Was that gas…the deadly shit!?" You forget the scientific name as Din shoves you ahead. You're not a mechanic,everything you've learned, Din taught you.
Din locks the cockpit doors fast. "Yes" His hands rest on top of his helmet, you watch him pace several times before deciding to say something.
"Will it get up here?"
He's now leaning over the controls, flicking switches and pushing buttons. The ship stops flying.
You prod him with his name carefully, apprehensively, "Din?".
"We're mid rim. Our distress signal should get to someone quickly," He's leaning quietly. You know this, he's still thinking. He doesn't think out loud and you're used to just going off his body language. But the way his head dips between his armored shoulders scares you. A sigh escapes his modulator.
"Is it still leaking? What do we do? Will it filter out?"
"It should have stopped. It may filter out, life support and oxygen looks–" he looks at the readouts and sighs, "We're okay, we just can't go in the hold to be safe. I'd open a vent and depressurize the cabin and let the gas out but…"
"This rust bucket would break apart if we tried that. Din, I'm sorry, I convinced you to buy this piece of shit. I just wanted you to have your home back. We should have waited until we could tow it," You rub your neck and watch him staring at the oxygen sensor. "I'm so sorry. Maker, I'm sorry," You plead your apology.
His head snaps quickly up to you. He stands tall again, framed by the vastness of space through the viewport. The stars reflect in his beskar. Slowly his hands find either side of your face, the callous of his trigger finger is unmistakable. "It's our home and you have nothing to be sorry for Mesh'la," He shakes his helmet.
You reach up and take his hand, weaving your fingers into his. "Yes. You asked and yes, I want to be with you," You kiss his hand, your lips soft on the palm of his "We make it out of this I'm marrying you in front of Peli and the pit droids."
Din chuckles softly.
"I'm serious. I love you," The smile on your face is in stark contrast to the dire circumstances you're in. It gives Din the hope and resolve he needs.
"I love you and I'm getting you out of here safely,"He leans the forehead of his helmet onto yours, he lingers intensely, as his hands also grip your arms "I love you." He pulls away quickly and begins opening the cabinet with emergency supplies. "You have to be kidding," He says with a sarcastic huff.
"What–" you're interrupted by a loud bang followed by the whole ship surging to the side. You're thrown back, grasping at anything nearby. Your hand landing on the back of the pilot's seat, your fingertips bend awkwardly as they lose their grip on the slick material. There is another bang that jolts the ship again, finishing off any attempt of yours to balance and hang on. The last thing you see is Din lunging, trying to catch you.
Din pulls himself up, flicking more switches and pulling levers, muting the alarms. He makes sure the distress beacon is still going and does what he can to amplify it. He can't move fast enough to find you crumpled on the floor, a gash on your face. He kneels at your head. You're already on your side, so he takes your head in his and holds it level. "Princess, come on Mesh'la, wake up," His voice wavers in fear. He feels a knot at the back of your head. The blood from the contusion above your eye drips into the creases of his palm. He pulls his hand away, it tremors, coated in warm crimson. Din looks around, he reaches over and grabs his satchel he carried the kid in that sits under the passenger seat. Balling it up into a makeshift pillow. Carefully he lays your head there.
He goes over to the console, the ship is basically dead,it's not pumping enough oxygen or heat in to keep up with what you're using, buying you very little extra time. Without being able to enter the hold he's having a hard time making sense of what went wrong. The ship is leaking air and gasses that are essential to flight and life support, it's a death trap. The only hope you have is the distress beacon and the fact that you're not far from the busiest trade routes. In fact, he prays in the back of his mind that a New Republic ship might find you first, maybe even an emergency rescue vessel. They exist midrim, he's seen them patrol.
Din watches the O² levels drop slowly. He's wiping the blood away from your eye carefully. "I'm so sorry Princess," He pinches the gash on your head shut, it cuts your eyebrow in half. He puts all the bacta on it as he can. His hand is cold as it shakes, trying to get the bandage affixed just right to hold the skin together. Your head rocks as he carefully mends you.
Scars are sexy…I don't have any cool scars. Your words come back to him, he remembers trying to keep his pulse under control as you bandaged up his lower back after a fight. His skin prickles at the memory.
The temperature of the cockpit is dropping and he won't risk losing precious unpoisoned air going below to find more blankets and supplies. Din sits, helplessly, watching the side of your face that slammed into the navi computer housing swell. The med kit and emergency supplies were poorly equipped. He knew that, that's why you prepped more. It's in a crate, next to the toxic leak. He looks at the emergency oxygen, he'll wait. He'll wait until he knows the air is too thin, then he'll put it on you. It should buy you time, rescue will find you here, alive and breathing and him, not. There is only one mask. He'd know you'd insist on sharing, but it doesn't work that way. Din leans back on the wall, jerking his head back in frustration, the beskar helmet clangs against the steel. Will it feel like drowning or will I just go to sleep? His eyes well at the thought of breaking his promise to Grogu. But he finds some solace knowing you would look out for him.
Din tries to not think about how much time has passed. He knows, the less he moves, the calmer he is the less good air he's using up. He presses and prods the back of your neck. It doesn't feel swollen. He notices the way your arm has dropped lower, your shoulder dislocated.
The tickle of his touch stirs you awake. It takes a moment for the soreness of your face to register, along with the headache and pain radiating from your shoulder. You blink slowly, the room around you is dark. You try to lift your head and you let out an involuntary grunt.
"Princess. Shhhh, try not to move," His modulated voice says.
"Din?"
"I'm right here Mesh'la. Here," You hear him shuffle and feel his hand in yours, weaving your fingers together. "You have a concussion. You hit your head, your shoulders dislocated," He's almost whispering.
"How we doing?" You murmur.
"We're okay. We'll be fine. Shouldn't be long now. In a good position," His other hand is petting your hair "Let me look at you," Din flips on his helmet lamp and lights up the cabin. You squint as he looks down at you, he reaches up and angles the light away from your eyes, his fingers hover over the swelling. "Can you look at me?"
You look up into the T-visor, trying to aim for his eyes. You're unable to focus. "I feel sick. It's cold."
"That's probably the head injury. Can you flex your legs, wiggle your toes?"
You do as instructed, certain the injury is contained to your head and shoulder, "Yes, I can't move my arm."
"Okay. Can you sit up?"
Din holds you under your good arm as you whimper, helping you lean up against the door. "I'm dizzy," you mumble.
"I know, you're doing good, this is gonna hurt." Din carefully lifts the wrist of your injured arm and pulls it forward, "I'm sorry." He grunts as you suddenly feel the sensation of the socket righting itself, you cry out. It's a loud, pain filled cry, that causes your face to scrunch which hurts more.
Din reaches for you, embracing you against his chest, his helmet rests against your head. "It hurts, I know, you did, you did great."
You've never heard his voice shake the way it is. Din takes his vibroblade and cuts the strap from the satchel to make a sling for your arm.
He takes his cape and pulls it tight around you. He sits down beside you. Pulling you close to him into his lap. He wraps his arms around you, already you feel warmer but exhausted from the movement.
You're both silent for minutes. You feel his chest rise and fall beneath you.
"Gotta stay awake for me," He speaks quietly as his hand strokes the arm that's not in a sling.
"Din. I need to tell you" Speaking is difficult because of your pounding headache.
His voice is soft, "Anything princess."
Your lips jerk as you feel him give you a squeeze. You do your best to ignore your throbbing head, "I knew I loved you in a way I hadn't…I hadn't felt before. When we gave Grogu up. I can only hope, my being here has helped you," You try to breathe in deep but it's not good enough. You can feel it now. The oxygen is running out.
"I'd probably be dead if it weren't for you Mesh'la. You're my heart," he inhales and exhales heavily. "You're my hero."
You feel a tear escape on your cold swollen cheek.
There is a static that comes through the comm. You try to lift your head. Din moves his body, leaving you propped up along the door. Crawling, he crouches over to the comm in the freezing dark cockpit. You breathe in, filling your lungs as much as you can but it's not enough. Static again. Then a broken male voice. "This…Republic…come in…crest."
Din reaches up, his breathing labored, "This is Razor Crest, two survivors, catastrophic leak, our oxygen is critical."
Din crawls over to you. You are trying to not panic. You watch as Din rips his helmet off. The light still on, it casts a glow in the cabin that makes shadows over his strong features. The fear you feel reflects in Din's eyes. His hands cup your cheeks as he moves in, his cold lips press to yours desperately, his last and final chance. You move in for more of it. He breathes in the thin air, his stunning brown eyes plead and apologize as he straps the one oxygen source tight to your face. It squeezes and pinches, it fits so tight. The unit blinks and you breathe in a nice chest full of air. It's not as rich as you were expecting but it's better than what is left in the cabin.
"There is…only one,"His shoulders slump as he stares into your eyes. An odd calmness comes off him. A relief in his expression as he pants.
Muffled, you shake your head, "We'll share it."
"This one…isn't even designed for space..lucky if it works at all," He nods exhaustively. He looks back through the viewport and nods again, a slow smirk comes across his whiskered face, his voice a whisper, "You've…always been…my good luck." His lips are pale, blue. Din acts as though he wants to stand, but sits back down, like someone who is confused on where they should go. He glances around the cabin before he looks right back in your eyes, he almost smiles again, forming crinkles around his eyes, he wheezes. He slowly slumps forward, his eyes still open. Din gasps several times, a horrible sound before he is dead weight on top of you.
"Din? No…no….no!" You cry out through the mask. Dizzy and sore, you use all your strength to push him off. The cabin suddenly becomes darker as the shadow of the emergency rescue vessel falls over the Crest. The ship lurches as it noisily couples onto the much, much larger vessel.
Razor Crest we're boarding. Waiting for the cabin to filter and pressurize. Come in Razor Crest. A deeper voice behind that one speaks, I'm only getting one strong life sign now. The noise of the emergency hatch being utilized, the one directly on the other side of the cockpit doors is loud.
You're fumbling for a pulse. You press your fingers into his neck but it doesn't matter, your hands are so cold you can't feel anything even if it was there. Din's lips are blue and his warm pallor has turned pale. Your fingers fiddle with the connection of his chest plate.
"I'm in, it's clear! "You hear a female's voice come through the doors.
Overwhelmed by light headedness your vision floods with spots and your ears fill with static. Unable to move, you're slumped over the man you love.
Unaware the cockpit doors have even opened you hear the woman loudly. ONE HUMAN FEMALE, ONE MALE!
The green woman, a Twi'lek maybe, you can't focus, is lifting you under your arms and off of Din.
"No…help him," you mumble through the mask.
"We will," she says, pulling the mask off your face and replacing it with a new one. She has you flat on your back, shining a light in your eye. She's relaying your injuries to someone through her comm.
"Tubes in…Wow, this guy's a Mandalorian!? "
"I've never met one. We gotta get this armor off…shit…how does it…"
You breathe in, "The side…connects…here." You wave your hand along the side of your ribs. You moan as a wave of nausea overwhelms you. You can't see what they're doing. You're too dizzy to lift your head.
"Got it! Beskar, that's so cool. 1…2…3…nope, again."
You hear a beep. "Is he…please…I need to see him." The beautiful green woman has blocked any view you have of Din as she works.
"Don't move. She's almost ready." The woman tips your body to your side. Now you can see. Din's armor has been taken off, his chest is exposed and there is a device over his heart. They stuck a tube down his throat and another device is breathing for him. There are two men in uniforms donning the New Republic colors over him.
"1…2…There we go! Okay, let's get him out first. Shit!...tough bastard…"
Din jerks awake, his broad body tries to sit up and his limbs flail.
"Din!" You cry out as the woman forces a board under you and straps you tight to it. You hang on to every word from the medics, they sound distant but you focus through your haze.
"Relax, big guy! We're gonna move you…that's right, lay back. We're gonna move you and your girl now. No! No! That's gotta stay in…let's do a…yeah, thanks…...he's out. Let's move him, then the woman."
It feels like forever. You blink hard trying your hardest to stay awake. The fresh oxygen feels good after breathing the sorry excuse for air you had. Your view for the next several minutes is of the Twi'lek and the ceiling. She looks down at you and back to the other medics with Din.
She holds your hand, "Looks like he was lucky, are you a couple?"
You nod yes, forcing back a wave of emotions.
"They're moving him first okay, he was without air but with the way he just woke up, he's clearly very strong. Din? His name is Din?"
You take in a deep breath swallowing the lump in your throat, "Yes. He's Mandalorian…will you…make sure the beskar stays with him, please. That's…important…it has to…" a wave of nausea comes over you, you shut your eyes to fight it.
"1…2…3, lift. Okay, Gill, bring the beskar and the helm, that jetpack too, make sure it stays with Din, The Mandalorian."
You feel your body rock side to side as you're brought through the hatch into the rescue vessel. You keep your eyes shut. You can't fight it, your stomach lurches, it builds and comes up like lava. Filling your mask and nose, you choke it back and breathe it in.
"Shit shit, tip her…"
The mask is ripped from your face, as green delicate hands wipe at your nose and scoop away the vomit. You cough violently and deeply, unable to catch your breath. Your throat, nose and chest burns.
"Did she aspirate?"
You're lifted from the floor, onto a gurney, propped on your side.
"Suction."
Someone jams something down your throat, for a brief moment you can't breathe at all. But when it's pulled away you let out a few more heavy coughs before being able to take in air.
"Okay hun.. you're okay. I'm sorry about that. Bad timing to get sick on us," The green woman's voice is kind. She cleans you up with something cold.
You try to look around and don't see Din.
"He's here. He looks good. We're going to pull that tube soon and you'll wake up next to each other. Okay?" She loops a tube for oxygen around your nose.
"My head hurts. My face. Can I see him," You reach up and feel the swollen eye and bandage. Your vision is blurry and it's hard to take in details of what's happening around you.
"You have a little fracture on your face. Your guy did a good job getting that bacta on there and keeping the swelling down. Your shoulder will be out of commission for a bit. Okay, hey Gill…yes…okay good." You can't hear the other side of the conversation.
"Can I see him?"
"Yes. I made sure the beskar'gam is right next to Din okay. We're towing that classic ship of yours," she speaks as a droid pushes your gurney into a bigger space. There is a droid and a doctor and two others connecting things to Din, his large frame fills the gurney. They're typing into data pads and talking. There are wires and several fluids going to him.
You start to cry, it makes your face hurt worse. One of the medical professionals comes over.
"It looks worse than it is. In simplest terms your partner's blood gasses were just a little out of balance. When we run out of air–" they motion vaguely,"–out here…it's tricky. We're getting him everything he needs to minimize any permanent brain and organ damage. Luckily the exposure was short and we expect Din to come around soon. He is one of the best case scenarios we've seen in awhile."
You stare past them as they talk, and just as she said all his beskar is right there. You nod, "He'll be okay? He'll be able to walk and talk…" you choke on your words imagining the worst.
The doctor almost laughs, "Oh yes, he'll be weak for a bit, but he'll be able to shoot that huge blaster strapped to his side with no problem. And use that jetpack Gill brought in."
"Feel better?" The Twi'lek asks.
"Yes. Thank you," you lay your head back overwhelmed by fatigue.
"I want you to rest. That's right, close your eyes."
"Hey General? How do we turn the light off on this helmet and get these gauntlets off?"
"I'm not a general when I'm volunteering, Gill. They're called vambraces and don't touch them unless we have too."
…
You're awoken to a gentle nudge. You moan. The blankets on you are soft and warm. You're drowsy. The pain in your head is dull, as is your arm. You're very thirsty. There is an IV in your hand and the room is dim.
"There we go, wake up hun."
You roll your eyes awake. "Din?"
"He's here. He insisted."
"No, don't wake her. I just wanted to see her."
The raspy, deep voice snatches you from your haze.
Din is approaching, he has on simple, soft gray pants and a shirt that's the same, almost like scrubs. No helmet. He has a droid on one side of him. Holding the oxygen that's connected to the tube that's looped under his nose.
"Din started asking the moment he woke up," the woman says as she pulls up a stool for Din. "Sit, you're a fall risk."
Din rolls his eyes. He sits. He gazes at you with those brown eyes that have been haunting you for months. His hands rest on your arm. "I'm sorry Mesh'la. Don't be mad."
Your head is turned to him, but still heavy on the pillow. The new sling on your arm is awkward. You try to push yourself up to sit more. Din pushes a button and the bed moves to make you sit up. You huff a small tired laugh. The droid lingers a bit away, as does the woman.
"What would I be mad about?" Your voice is hoarse.
Din reaches up and gently brushes his thumb over the gash above your eye. The swelling has gone down significantly. "Don't be mad that I think you're right, this scar is pretty sexy."
You frown and smile at the same time. "I haven't seen my face. That's not fair. Is it bad? It really hurts."
Din stands, his voice is tender, "No, it's not bad. Are you in pain?"
"Only a little. Oh Din…" your eyes rake over his face, his nose, his charming, messy hair, his scruff "...your helmet."
"I know. It's okay. I'll take it off any day, if it means seeing my family again. I thought the beskar was my home but…that's not my only home," Din leans down. He rests his lips on your cheek. Your hand finds his face, you drag your lips over to meet his. You kiss, for only the second time in your history. It's soft and delicate and short lived.
Someone clears their throat.
You and Din both ignore it, your eyes are tractor beams on one another. "Can you lay with me?" You ask.
Din looks down and immediately figures out how to drop the safety rail. He starts to crawl in next to you when the tube to his oxygen gets tangled. He rips it off and throws it down. He sits and throws his legs up sliding in next to you.
The droid is talking but you don't hear them.
You scooch over to make more room for Din, you wince and groan.
"Hey can we…" Din finally looks over, the Twi'lek volunteer and droid are standing right at the foot of the bed, "...some more meds, she's in pain."
The Twi'lek walks over and picks up the oxygen, looping it back around his nose. Din flinches as her hands come close to his face. "This has to stay on, and yes, sure you can stay here–" she sighs and mumbles about him being worse than her son. She walks over and messes with the connections to your IV. "You'll feel a little better in a moment. Get some rest you two. We'll be at the med port in about 6 hours."
"Thank you," Din looks back at her and nods, she nods back.
You roll over onto your good side. Cuddling up onto Din's shoulder. The blankets have been crumpled.
"Are you cold? Here…" he arranges the blanket to cover you better. "Careful," He helps you get comfortable. You're on your back, laying into Din.
"That's perfect." You rest your head on his chest and listen for his heartbeat as he breathes deep after the small exertion. "How do you feel?"
"Tired, out of breath. They said that's normal," He reaches up and brushes your cheek with the back of his hand. "Still want to be your riduur."
You look up and reach back with your good arm to touch his whiskered face, your nails scratch his jaw and he leans into the touch. "I'm yours," you tell him.
He kisses your palm. You're both almost ready to doze when the Twi'lek enters again. She has all of Dins armor on a cart.
"No way in Hoth I'm being responsible for this. And you both seem sane and nice enough, I trust you not to use it against us." She parks Din's gear and weapons next to the bed. "Congratulations on the Darksaber by the way," She says before she leaves.
"Hmmm?" Din hums as he lifts his head. Her words got his attention. He turns to look, everything is there.
"I had a friend that…she's Mandalorian. Sabine Wren?" The woman asks.
Din's expression says he's clueless, and shakes his head. "I won it off an Imp."
"That's good news," She folds her arms over her chest, "You'll need help with a tow. You were heading to Tatooine?"
You both nod yes.
"I'll help you. I'm Hera, by the way." She reaches out to shake Din's hand.
"Din Djarin. Thank you Hera."
You yawn and it hurts, "ouch." It pulls Din's focus back to you.
"You two rest, press the button if you need anything or start to feel worse." Hera points before she turns to leave.
"Do you make new friends everywhere you go?" You ask, the words muffled as you lean into his chest.
"Mmm, not everywhere." It's just the two of you in the large med bay, and a droid at the other end inputting data at a desk. "Sleep princess…I love you," Din kisses the top of your head.
"Mmmm, in Mando'a," You reach up again to feel his face. He holds your hand there.
"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Mesh'la," Din takes your hand and holds it to his heart.
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Thanks for reading. Feel free to reblog and comment 💙MJ
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A/N Yes, the green Twi'lek is Hera Syndulla. I just needed to make her and Din meet. It seems totally reasonable that she would volunteer as an EMT for the New Republic, maybe Jacen talked her into it. What?🤷🏻♀️ It's fanfiction! 😁🖤🖤🖤
