Scars and All
Chapter 13: The Frog Lady
Mandalorian x Mechanic!Reader
MASTERLIST
CW: +18, mentions of past smut, friends to lovers, mechanic!reader, indentured service, canon-typical violence, loss of family
READ ON AO3
DIN DJARIN
Din waits for you to fall asleep before he slowly peels himself off of you. Kriff, he could lay there for days basking in the glory of your body beneath his. He takes a moment to admire your beautiful figure as you shiver from the cool air, before he reaches to pull the sheets up to cover your body.
And that’s when he notices it. The smears of blood along the insides of your thighs mingled together with his seed.
His blood runs cold, rushing in his ears so loudly it drowns out the clamor of the city outside.
He jumps up to the refresher, dampening a rag before returning to you, wiping your thighs clean as carefully as possible so he wouldn’t wake you. Once he’s finished, he covers you with the sheet and then cleans himself off, biting back a groan as the rough frabic scratches along his raw and sensitive member.
Fuck, he curses, his fists clenching angrily as he struggles to calm himself. He wasn’t sure why it was that he was so angry- the sex was amazing but… Dank Farrik! He had fucked you, and it was your first time.
He had spilled your virgin blood, and he hadn’t done it gently. He was so lost in the ecstasy of your body that he hadn’t even stopped to consider that you had never been with a man before. Of course you hadn’t, your master had you sleeping in a mudscuffing closet, for Kriff’s sake.
Din crushes his knuckles against his eyebrows, biting back a frustrated growl. No wonder you were crying, no wonder your moans sounded more like whimpers. His self-loathing only grows worse once he looks you over, seeing the bruising bite mark he had left on your shoulder. Fuck.
Din pulls his flight suit back on, as well as his helmet, not feeling like he deserves the luxury of sleeping in the bed that he had mercilessly violated your body on. Instead, he settles into the chair across the room crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.
He hadn’t planned on it, he really hadn’t… but then you had to come out of the fresher wearing that thin little nightshirt, and he could see the soft curve of your breasts, the slight peak of your nipples from the cool air… and then when you invited him to undress himself.
He had planned to behave, he really had just wanted to sleep, but then he saw your skin, and your whisper so close to his ears, and your scent flooded his nostrils and he just lost himself. It was like his mind just stepped back so his instincts could take over.
And fuck, had it been good. It’s not that he’s slept with a great plethora of women in the past, but he had his experiences, and you, by far, have been the best. Something about how your body just sings to life with the slightest touch, the scent of sweat on your skin, the softness of your lips… the wetness that met him so eagerly; all of it just drove him mad.
And look at how he had treated you- like a meal. For your first time. The unexpected intimacy is what shocks him the most. He feels so confused; equally flattered that you trusted him with something so important, and equally disgusted with himself for taking advantage of that trust.
But he knew, he knew you wanted him, from the way you looked at him that morning back in Mos Pelgo. He could see the want in your wide eyes, and the way you parted your lips at him as if inviting him to you. Kriff, he would have taken you right then and there if the child hadn’t walked in.
And then the skirmish in the desert happened, and his adrenaline was pumping, and seeing you underneath that man made him so violently angry he had seen red.
And the trek in the desert had worn him out so much, that he almost couldn’t stay on his feet long enough to get to the cantina.
He blames all of this as the reason he lost control. That’s where he decided to place the blame. He wasn’t feeling like himself, otherwise he would have made love to you the way you deserved for your first time. He would have made sure you enjoyed it, made sure you’d never forget it. That’s what he tells himself.
He only hopes you don’t hate him when you wake up.
Your hand reaches out, clasping the sheets… and the empty space beside you. Groaning slightly, you shift onto your back, your mind reeling as you try to piece together a coherent thought, shaking away the fog of sleep.
You were in a cantina… with Mando.. And you had- oh! Jumping upright, you look around wildly as everything that had happened last night rushes to the forefront of your mind. The noises you had made, the wet sound of his member pounding in and out of you… the taste of his velvety tongue. You know you should feel shame for succumbing to his body so easily, but all you feel is... warm, like your skin is tingling in excitement.
“How do you feel?” Mando’s sudden voice startles you, and a hand flutters to your chest to calm your pounding heart.
Should you tell him the truth? Should you say something funny to alleviate the mood? The air between you feels… tense, and you wonder why he’s sitting in the chair across from you, instead of sleeping in the bed beside you; that’s where he had been before you fell asleep…
“Sore.” You opt for the truth, and he cocks his head slightly. He’s already dressed in his armor as if last night had never happened, and you’re curious as to how long he’s been awake.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Your eyes widen, and your heart stutters. Tell him what? What did he know now that he hadn’t before? Oh Kriff, had he gone back to the ship and seen the chest? What if Peli accidentally opened it while she was working on the ship, and she asked Mando about it? Or was it something else?
No. It has to be the armor. His fists are clenched and his shoulders are rising and falling with steadying breaths, his whole body tensed as if he’s waiting for a fight. He knows. Does he? He's angry... he has to know.
“Tell you about…what?” You test your voice, and it wavers slightly. You swallow hard, clutching the sheets to cover your bare chest.
“You know what.” His tone is clipped, and you can hear the anger raging beneath it. Fuck, he knows!
“Mando, I… I was going to tell you about it I swear, I just… I knew how you would react.”
“How I would react? I’m more angry about how I’ve acted already!” You can hear the strain in his voice as he tries to keep from yelling.
Tears prickle at your eyes and you shake your head, not wanting to look so weak in front of him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about the armor until the child opened the chest, and then I was so afraid, because of what you did to the Abyssinian and then-”
“What. Armor.” He grits out, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his spread knees. “What are you talking about?”
Shit. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you let me fuck you- let me have my way with you- last night, and you didn’t stop me even though it was your first time! I hurt you. I bruised you.” His chest heaves, and he jumps to his feet, taking a step to emphasize his pointed words. You cower back, fear seizing your lungs. “Now… What. Armor?”
You shake your head, unable to get out a word as he approaches you, sitting on the bed so he can reach you. He grips the tops of your arms, shaking you.
“Are you saying that you have Beskar armor in that chest on the Razor Crest?”
You can’t get out any words, so you just nod your head, your tears spilling down your cheeks. A few of them drip down your lips and you lick them away, trying to form the words of your defense.
“Mando-” he releases your arms as if your touch had burned him. “I didn’t know about it! I’ve never seen them before in my life, I don’t even know how my mother got them, but she had tried to sell them to Denga, please, you can take them!”
He scoffs, dragging himself from the bed, and reaching down to pick up the child, who was stirring from the sound of your squabbling voices. “I have to take them, I’ve got no choice.”
“Mando, I’m just as confused as you, please! You promised me answers yesterday, I was hoping they would help clear some things up for me, but we never got to talking about it and-”
“I’m going to go feed the child. Get dressed. We need to meet the contact at Peli’s garage.”
He storms out the door, leaving you to gape at his retreating figure, the child grumbling as he rubs his eyes, peering at you over Mando’s shoulder before the door cuts him out of sight.
Haar’chak! Why did you say anything? You should have just played stupid! He was mad because he took your virginity, he hadn’t suspected a thing about the armor! But now he does. And you just know that he hates you. He brought you onto his ship, he had sheltered you, fed you, cared for you, and you had betrayed him by holding not just one set of Beskar under his nose, but two!
You angrily run your hands through your hair in an attempt to calm your nerves, your hands shaking. You wince as you drag yourself out of the bed, the area between your legs feeling swollen and sore, causing your legs to wobble.
You snatch up your clothes from the balcony, stomping towards the bedroom, but gasp at the sight of yourself in the mirror.
The side of your neck is spotty and red, an obvious rash from the course hairs of Mando’s stubble rubbing against your neck during your… activities. Following the trail of damage, you also see a few small bruises along your collarbone where he had also left behind a peppering of hickies. As you turn your back to face the mirror, your eyes land on the spot where he’d bitten you. It was a perfect indentation of his mouth, the outer edges already turning a slight blue.
You also notice the two long scars on your back that you hadn’t really ever seen before. They run all the way down to your tailbone, long and perfectly straight, but slightly jagged on the sides. A cut from something metal.
Hot metal, tearing up your back as two hands pull you towards the ship.
You clear the image from your mind. Your clothes from the balcony are still faintly damp, but the coolness of the fabric soothes your aching core as you slide them on. As you pull your undergarments up, you notice the bruises on your hip where Mando had held you down while he claimed your body from behind.
Your cheeks burn from embarrassment at your slip-up. You didn’t think he would be so mad about taking your virginity, but after seeing the damage he’d riddled across our body, you understand a little better.
Mando lived his life with absolute control over himself and did his best to control everything around him. But last night, that control had vanished entirely, and you had seen a new side of him. Granted, a side you hoped you would get to see again, but after revealing your little secret about the armor, you know that he’ll probably never trust you again. As a matter of fact, you’re pretty sure he’s going to dump you off with Peli while he follows up with whatever lead she’s got for him. He was so eager to get away from you now, why in Kriff's name would he want you in close proximity on a ship in space?
You lace up your boots with a groan, clenching your teeth at the burn between your legs. Is that normal? Kriff, you wish you had your mother to answer all these questions for you.
All of the supplies that you’d carried across the desert is gone, so Mando must have taken them to the ship while you were sleeping. That must be another reason he’s so angry about the armor; it was right there, and he had no idea. And since the child had destroyed the lock, the thing wouldn’t stay shut without a ratchet strap to keep it sealed. It would have been so easy for him to open it, to peek inside, to glance at the contents and you never would have known.
But he had trusted you, he did not need to question your hesitance to tell him about what was inside. And you broke that trust.
With a resigned sigh, you figure you can’t delay the inevitable anymore, and so you tie your scarf around your neck to hide his marks and gingerly pick your way back down to the cantina hall. The child squeals once he sees you, and you sink into the chair with a waiting bowl of the same goop from last night.
Mando doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. Instead, you eat in silence and do your best not to start hyperventilating on the spot, forcing yourself to swallow each thick bite, your heart hammering in your chest so hard you swear a rib is going to crack.
His shoulders rise and fall with deadly calm, and as you watch him out of the corner of your eye, your nerves grow worse. The child looks between you and the Mandalorian, his ears twitching up and down with a sad frown marring his brows. You want to reach out to console him, but he’s too close to Mando, and you feel it’s best not to test his patience right now.
The second your bowl was empty, Mando pushed away from the table, jumping to his feet. The child watches over his shoulder as you scramble to follow. It feels like your boots are stuffed with rocks as you trail after him, your heart sinking further into your stomach the closer you get to Peli’s garage.
So, what, does he plan to just leave you here then? He’ll take the last things you’ve got from your parents in this lonesome galaxy, and leave you behind with nothing but the clothes on your back? Did you really deserve that kind of punishment?
Peli claps her hands once she sees you both approaching, reaching out for the child, probably to say her farewells. The scent of cooking meat wafts in the air, and you look over to see that the hunk of flesh from the krayt dragon was slow-roasting over a spit. Maybe it was part of Mando’s payment to her, for whatever work she’s done on the ship?
The child drools when he catches sight of it, and Peli chuckles down at him, carrying him over to the meat, where a few slices are waiting on a platter. She hands it to him, as if it were a steak, and the child tears into it like he hadn’t just eaten a few minutes earlier. It keeps him busy and quiet, while Peli and Mando discuss the contact.
“A Mandalorian covert is close. It’s in this sector, one system trailing.” She begins, setting the child on a stool while he eats. “I don’t know if they’re the ones that fled Nevarro, but the contact says she can lead you to them. No need to thank me! That intel is free of charge. There’s only one skank in the skud pie though; the contact wants passage to the system.”
Mando sighs at this, resting his hands over his hips, shifting on his feet as he contemplates. “Do you vouch for them?”
“On my life!” To emphasize, Peli holds a hand over her heart, the other hand making a funny sort of salute towards Mando.
Again, he huffs out a breath. “Fine.”
Peli turns slightly, lowering her head sheepishly, before speaking up once again. “Also… no hyperdrive?”
This causes Mando to throw his hands in the air, scoffing with a shake of his head. “You want me to travel sub-light? Deal’s off.”
“It’s one parsec over!”
“Moving fast is the only thing keeping the child safe. I’m not risking his life just on something that isn’t concrete.”
“These are mitigating circumstances!”
“What do you mean ‘mitigating’?” Just then, a faint croaking echoes through the garage doorway as a frog-lady rounds the corner, hobbling towards where everyone is gathered. She croaks excitedly, her hands gesturing towards Peli, as if communicating.
“I’m not a taxi service.” Mando tries to cut in, but he's ignored by the two women.
Peli croaks in return, grunting deep in her throat a few times before turning back to face Mando. Evidently she can understand the frog-lady.
“It’s her spawn. She needs her eggs fertilized by the equinox or her line will end. If you jump into hyperspace, they’ll die. She said her husband has settled on the estuary moon of Trask in the system of the gas giant Kol Iben.”
Mando cocks his head in disbelief, giving it a good shake. He flexes his fists, pacing a few steps away before returning. “Is she sure there are Mandalorians there?”
The frog-lady croaks in her funny language once more, nodding her head. Her bulbous eyes blink while her hands stroke the large glass cylinder chamber that holds the spawn in question.
“She said her husband has seen them.”
It was then that Mando looks towards you, as if he were about to ask your opinion. But then he catches himself, and you barely make out the growl behind his modulator as he jerks his attention back towards Peli, nodding his head as he points for the frog-lady to board the Crest.
“Do you know the husband?”
“No. I barely just met her ten minutes ago.”
Mando scoffs. “I thought you vouched for her with your life?”
“What can I say, I’m an excellent judge of character!” With that, she turns towards you, handing you a holo-tablet. It was yours; she must have taken it from the ship to look over your notes on repairs.
“I fixed a few things that you marked down; replaced a few hoses, tightened some seals, oiled a few joints. Have fun with your ‘fresher project. I hope to see you again, maybe if you ever decide to leave his grumpy butt, I’ll hire you to work for me!” You look around at the multitude of droids at her disposal, and she laughs in return. “A womp rat’s got better sense than they do. Safe travels!”
She gives you a final pat, and you stand there, a little stunned. The child waddles towards you, the last bits of steak in his tiny claws. Grease dribbles down his chin, but before you can grab him, Mando lifts him into his arms.
“Is this... goodbye then?”
Mando freezes, turning to stare at you long and hard. You almost think he’s going to ignore you. “Get on the ship. We’ll talk later.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and you clench your fists to hide the shake in them. So he wasn’t going to ditch you, for now at least. The small reassurance was enough to calm your pounding heart, and you followed behind him silently back into the ship.
It’s amazing what can transpire in just a few days.
Once you feel your ears pop with the now-familiar feeling of the chamber pressurizing on the Crest, you take that as your signal to busy yourself.
Mando and the frog-lady are still in the cockpit with the child, so you decide to get started working on the ‘fresher. Might as well, since the alternative is to sit and mope. You gather up your tools, opening the door, only to have to quickly catch a few loose boxes as they tumble out towards you.
The water recycler is in a compartment directly below the refresher, connecting to the drain line. Another pipe runs down to it from the small sink attached to the privy, but since the recycler is broken, neither has had running water for who knows how long.
Your mind falls back on autopilot as you pull out the small motor and fuse box attached to the recycler, connecting a few loose wires to your tablet to try to read any codes that the computer chip in the engine might let out, in an attempt to diagnose the issue. On top of a few blown fuses, you have to make sure there’s not an underlying issue.
You don’t hear him approach from the ladder, but rather you feel his sudden gaze on your back, causing you to bristle under his stare. You don’t turn, unsure if he wants you to look at him or not. Your ears burn from his unwavering attention.
“Show me.”
Your hands freeze from untangling the wires, and you bite the inside of your cheek, sucking in a breath to steady your racing heart. Wordlessly, you stand up, keeping your head low as you go to the chest containing the two sets of armor.
You pull loose the straps and crack open the lid, revealing the red Beskar armor inside. His breath hisses through the modulator, but you don’t dare look up at him.
He kneels and grabs one of the helmets, turning it over in his hands as he studies it. You wonder if he can tell how old it is, and where it originated from. If it really belongs to your parents or not.
He returns the helmet, switching it out for one of the vambraces, tapping away at the small digital screen on the surface of it. It flickers for a moment and then lights up blue at first, before a series of words run across the screen. He taps a few more things, and a hologram appears with a list of names.
Your family name.
“Were your parents Tylsim and Kelkre Saxon?” You swallow hard, and you wipe your sweaty palms on the legs of your pants nervously.
“Yes,” your voice shakes as you try to force yourself to speak above a whisper.
He taps a few more buttons, scrolling through the hologram and the list of names. “This armor goes back six generations. Your parents put your chain code in the armor.”
“What does that mean?”
He looks up at you then, staring for a few seconds before letting out a long sigh, and rising to his feet. “Do you recognize this script?”
You shake your head in response. You don’t; it looks like nothing more than squiggling lines to you. You recognize your family name, but that's only because you had seen your mother scribble it in the sand when you were little before wiping it away. Never a trace of it left behind.
“These,” he points to two groups of lines second from the bottom, “are your parents. It shows their names, date of birth, clan, and house name.”
“Clan and House? What does that mean?”
“I wasn’t born on Mandalore. My covert was located on Concordia around the time Mandalore fell. I don’t know much about the politics that led to its demise, just that the Armorer believes the planet fell from the Way of Mandalore. They used to have Clans and House names. The Child and I belong to Clan Mudhorn. You belong to Clan Saxon. Of House Vizla”
“So, that means…” you can’t get out the words for yourself, so Mando sighs, replacing the vambrace and closing the chest.
“You must have been born on Mandalore. You were there the day it was destroyed, but you managed to get out. Your parents fled to Jakku to start new lives. They lied to protect you and hid the armor. Had this armor been found before you got a hold of it, you and your parents would have been slaughtered for it. You really didn’t know any of this?”
You fight back tears, wiping away at your eyes angrily, not wanting to believe it. Your whole life was a lie? “I can’t remember- I can’t remember anything, all I know is Jakku!”
But that’s not entirely true, now is it? Because you’ve been having visions, horrible nightmares of an incident that you don’t recall… but you’ve got the scars to prove that something happened. There is merit to the Mandalorian's story, and that terrifies you.
"So... I am Mandalorian?"
"That depends on who you ask. Mandalorians follow the Way of Mandalore, and live by the Creed. The Armorer believes that Mandalore fell because the people fell from the Way. So, just because you were born on the planet, does not necessarily make you Mandalorian, according to my people. There are others, though, that believe Mandalorian is a blood-right. Not a Creed."
"And that language that we both speak...?"
"Mando'a. I can't express how shocked I was to hear it from your lips." Mandalorian? Born on Mandalore? House Vizla? A million questions run through your mind, and your head throbs.
You hadn’t noticed Mando reaching out towards you until his fingers are gently tugging down your scarf, revealing the hickeys on your neck, and the rash upon your skin from where his stubble had rubbed you raw. You flinch slightly, but you fight the urge to lean away. His body language is unreadable to you. He takes a small step closer to you, his other hand falling to your waist, gripping it tightly. Oh, how you wish you could look into his eyes.
“Maybe the Mandalorians on Trask will have answers for you.”
“No!” You jump suddenly, grasping his fingers. “My parents drilled it into my head that it’s not safe to mention our name to anyone. They said I can never reveal myself, or the Empire would find us.”
Mando shakes his head, releasing you. “I understand. I can keep your secret, but just know that there are very few Mandalorians that survived the Purge. It would be wise to look for answers at every opportunity.”
“What are you going to do with the armor?”
“I can’t do anything. It’s yours, it has your chain code in it. They both belong to you, so I cannot take them back to my covert...if I can ever find them again. The Beskar is yours to do what you want with.”
“I’m sorry, Mando. I really am. Please, I didn’t hide it from you because I wanted to gain anything from it, I was just terrified of what you would do. After the Abyssinian, and then the Marshal at Mos Pelgo…”
You trail off, looking down at your hands once more.
“Do I scare you so much, you thought I’d hurt you over armor?”
You’re not sure how to asnwer that. Mando’s power scares you because you know there would be no way for you to fight him off, if he ever intended to do such a thing. But you trust that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You’re more afraid of being abandoned, of him dumping you off somewhere because he doesn’t trust you any longer, and so you find yourself saying just that.
“No,” you finally whisper after a moment. “I was afraid you would hate me and leave me behind. I was afraid I’d be left alone again. At least on Jakku, I had work and shelter. But out here… all I’ve got is you, the child… and that armor.”
“I don’t hate you. And I’m not mad at you either,” you scoff at that, and he grips the tops of your arms, forcing you to look up at him. “I just need to know that I can trust you not to keep any more secrets.”
Tears leak from your eyes, and you bow your head to hide them, embarrassed by how his words touch you so deeply. “So… you’re not disgusted by me?”
“I was never disgusted by you." His words come out as a growl, and he breathes slowly to collect himself, loosening his grip. "I was disappointed with myself because I took advantage of you in a moment when we both were too exhausted and overwhelmed to remember our inhibitions.”
“But… you,” you pause, face burning as you try to get the question out. “Did you, you know… enjoy it- what we did? Because, well, I… I rather liked it.”
You’re startled by his soft chuckle, and the fabric of his cowl rustles as he shakes his head, his thumbs stroking soothing circles on your shoulders.
“The child is worried about you,” he clears his throat, nodding his head towards the cockpit where the child was peering down at the both of you, watching with a little grin across his face. “I'll leave you to your work. I don’t want to leave the frog-lady alone for too long.”
You step away from each other, and your skin tingles as he continues to hold you for a second loner, as if to silently assure you that he’s not going to leave you.
The child sits patiently beside you as you dangle into the cavernous space of the now-empty water recycler. You tell him the names of each little piece and how they work with each other as you reassemble the scattered pieces of machinery.
It didn’t take long to find the source of the issue, and thankfully you had a spare coil of copper wiring to replace the old ones in the recycler. You wrap up the frayed and eroded wires into a bundle to dispose of later.
The kid holds out a pair of pliers to you, and you grasp it, using it to twist the wires together while your pocket welder melts them together, reconnecting the alternator to the small battery for power. The project was taking a few hours longer than you had expected, and Mando had come down twice so far to feed the child and check on you, but you were making good progress so far.
Traveling at sublight was extremely underwhelming. Mando had informed you that it would take a day or two to get to Trask while flying at such low speeds, whereas it would have only taken an hour to get there in lightspeed.
Once you finish repairing the refresher, you pull the door shut, satisfied with your work. As you lean back on the heels of your feet, you look around, noticing the child is no longer beside you. Glancing around, you spot him standing in front of the frog-lady's glass canister... holding an egg!
"No!" You hiss, lunging forward, but before you can get to him, he sucks it down quickly. You pop his hand with a small smack, shutting the lid and wrapping a blanket around it to further hide it from the child. Hopefully, the frog-lady didn't keep count of the eggs. You pick him up in your arms, just as the frog-lady comes down the ladder. Your face flushes as if you're caught doing something bad, and you try to laugh it off, holding the squirming child in your arms.
Mando follows suit, digging into a crate for a spare blanket. He lays it out on the floor, gesturing for the frog-lady to lie down, all the while glancing at you curiously.
“This is the best I can do for you,” he keeps his voice low and flat. You wonder if she can understand him. “I’ll turn the lights down for you too.”
The woman croaks and groans a few times, blinking her large eyes slowly, before bowing her head. She pulls the large glass container away from the storage crates, choosing to rest it against the wall behind her instead. She then uses her backpack as a pillow, carefully lowering herself to the ground to lie down.
You take the hint and drag the kid with you up the ladder while Mando dims the lights for her, allowing her to rest for a while.
“So, how’s the Crest?” It was a nice change of pace to have Mando be the one to start a conversation with you. Normally, you’re the one who can’t stand the long stretches of silence. But right now, you just feel awkward, in light of your recent fight, and last night... and the child who just ate someone's unborn children. Should you tell Mando?
“Running well. Peli did a good job tweaking a few things I had in mind, and the water recycler is functional now, you just need to have the tank filled. Oxygen scrubbers could still do with a good clean, but I have to wait for us to land for that.”
Mando hums, clicking off a few lights that blink along the dashboard, adjusting the course to avoid a few drifting astroids that float menacingly in the distance. You glance down at the child, and he coos and burps at you, his eyes daring you to tell Mando. The little devil leaps from your lap, waddling over to Mando, babbling at the man until he is safely tucked away in the Mandalorian's lap. You change the subject, unsure if Mando would even believe you if you'd told him the child had eaten a few eggs from the frog-lady's container.
“Have you ever been to Trask?”
“No.”
“Have you ever met a frog-person before?”
“Not until today.”
You nod your head. Had you not reconciled with each other earlier in the flight, you might have thought he was still mad at you, but you know by now this is just how Mando is. A man of few words. But oh, the noises he can make. You're suddenly bombarded with the echo of his groans in your ear, and the sensation of his heavy breaths tickling your cheek. You shake your head faintly, clearing your mind. Change the subject!
“Can you teach me to fly?”
He turns around to look at you, spinning the chair so you can see that the kid has fallen asleep in his lap. “You don’t know how?”
“Denga made sure I wasn’t able to get a hold of any study materials on it. I can fix just about anything, maybe even hot-wire one if I need to; I know what every part does and how they function and why… I just don’t know how. I don't know the formula for making the ship fly, you know, the process.”
His shoulders rise and fall, and he peers over at the dash.
“I don’t see the harm in it,” he finally says, rising to his feet, careful not to jostle the child too much. You scoot around him in the tight space, ignoring the way it feels so good to have his body pressing against yours for just that brief moment, and the memory of his hips thrusting against yours invades your mind. Ugh, not again.
He lays the child in the seat of your chair, while you sit in the front. Mando then kneels beside you, resting an elbow on his knee, while the other points towards the controls. You try very hard to ignore his masculine scent that floods your nostrils. Something spicy and warm and... masculine. You have no other words for it.
“This side controls landing,” he points to the right, “this side controls take-off and pre-flight checks. This is the primary controls, the thruster, the brakes, the hyperdrive, the ignition.”
He goes on to give a brief explanation of everything, and the combinations of things to flip to take over manual versus autopilot. Once you feel he’s confident in his instruction, he hovers over the manual switch, waiting for you.
“Think you can handle it?”
You nod excitedly, gripping the steering control. The ship shudders slightly as it switches off of autopilot, and the weight of the control grows heavy in your hands as you pull back slightly. The nose of the crest tilts upwards, and you push forward to even out.
Mando shoots a hand out to keep the child from rolling out of the seat as you do, and you let out a breathy laugh, grinning widely.
“If you needed to increase speed, you’d hold down this pedal- that’s the clutch- and then you’d flip one of these depending on your speed. You have to switch the electronic governors to keep the throttle from crashing, which can burn out the engine if you’re not careful.” His fingers ghost over yours to a small pedal that’s connected to the steering column, showing you how to pull it back and ease into the shift.
“What about if I needed to activate the hyperdrive?”
“You’d activate the primers and that charger,” he points to what he’s talking about, and you nod excitedly. “And you’d switch to the highest gear before you activate the hyperdrive. Autopilot will keep it locked in until you’re ready to drop out of light speed. But, we’re not going to do that, so keep your hands away from it.”
You can’t stop smiling as he shoos your hand away. If it weren’t for the frog lady, you probably would have attempted to turn it on.
The two of you stay like that for a while, and he allows you to weave left and right a few times to get the feel of the steering. You try to ignore that familiar pressure burning between your legs as his voice rumbles just a few inches from your ear. His hand hovers over your wrist, and his fingers slowly begin to travel up the length of your arm, ghosting over your skin. Your body immediately responds to his almost-touch, and you tremble as goosebumps prickle along the path his fingers follow. They land at the base of your throat, and he nudges your chin upwards. Your breath hitches, passing through your lips in short puffs. You crave his touch.
“You’ve got the makings of a good pilot,” he praises in a low murmur, angling his head to look at you. But just as you open your mouth to say something, the proximity alert scanner starts beeping, breaking the spell between you as two space crafts drop out of lightspeed, flanking each side of the Crest.
Mando mutters a curse under his breath, and you slide out of the pilot’s chair, allowing him to settle into it while you scoop the child into your arms. Several lights blink and chirp along the dashboard. The sudden racket must have woken up the frog-lady, because she suddenly comes climbing up the ladder seconds later.
You both share a worried look, and she quickly settles into the other passenger chair, strapping herself in.
“Is it pirates?” Your voice wavers slightly, but Mando shakes his head.
“Might be a little worse,” he clicks off the alarms and opens the comms, opening a channel for their guests.
“Razor Crest, M-One-Eleven. Come in, Razor Crest. Do you copy?”
“This is Razor Crest. Is there a problem?” Again, Mando is unnervingly calm. Maybe it's a setting on his helmet, a mode he can activate whenever he’s facing potentially dicey interactions. How can a man go from panting in your ear, to facing a potential threat with no emotion in his voice?
“We noticed your transponder is not emitting.”
Mando glances over his shoulder, and you follow his line of sight to the X-wing on your right. You can see the pilot’s face clearly, as well as his New Republic Officer uniform.
“Mando, they’re New Republic, what’s wrong?” He hisses at you sharply and you snap your jaws shut.
“That was before. This sector is under New Republic jurisdiction. All craft are required to run a beacon.” You can see the mouth of the pilot moving, and he watches you carefully through the viewing canopy of his spacecraft. He’s an older gentleman, with a kind face, and although his words are cautionary, his tone is more gentle. Not aggressive. So why is Mando acting so cold?
“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll have my mechanic here get on that right away.”
The pilot smiles and nods his head in a friendly gesture, wishing you all safe travels; but just as Mando is reaching to end the channel, the pilot speaks up once more.
“One more thing,” he says, and Mando takes a steadying breath. “I’m gonna need you to send us a ping. We’re out here sweeping for Imperial holdouts.”
“I’ll let you know if I see one. May the Force be with you,” the last part sounded tense and rehearsed, and you looked over at Mando cautiously, your gut sinking. You’ve got a bad feeling about this.
“Well, I’m not sure I have that hardware online,” Mando pretends to press at a few things along the dash, but you can see he’s bluffing. You’re pretty sure the pilot sees this as well. “Yeah, uh… Doesn’t seem to be working.”
“That’s too bad. If we can’t confirm you’re not Imperial, you’re gonna have to follow us to the outpost at Adelphi. They’ll run your tabs.”
Mando hovers over the throttle control, flicking it on and switching it to third gear… as if he were about to jump. “Oh wait.. Ah! Here it is!”
He releases the clutch and pushes on the cyclic, and the ship lurches forward so hard you’re sent slamming into your seat. It doesn’t give, and you slam your head into the hard surface of it, cursing.
The frog-lady squeals and gasps, exclaiming in her strange frog language, and Mando shushes you both. The child babbles excitedly, unaware of any danger they may now be in.
“Why are you running?!” You shout, jumping out of the seat so you can secure the child into the harness, not trusting your own arms to keep him safely tethered.
“Razor Crest, stand down. We will fire. I repeat, we will fire!” You hear through the still-open channel, and Mando jerks the collective, sending the Crest into a sharp left turn as he dives for the nearest planet.
The ship shakes violently as it breaks atmosphere at unnatural speeds, and you begin to see large ice caps peaking out of the planet’s surface. The whole thing is ice, the further you look on.
“Mando!” You shout again, and he shouts at you over his shoulder.
“Strap yourself in, dank farrik!”
You decide to slide down the ladder, intending to head down to the emergency seat in the cargo hold, but just as you grab the sides of it, Mando jerks the ship to the right, cutting it a little too close to a cliff side. You lose your grip, falling to the metal surface with a crash. Groaning, you barely managing to push yourself up onto your hands and knees.
Suddenly, the ship drops out from beneath you, and your back slams into the ceiling as the Crest drops altitude, before crashing into the surface of the planet.
When you hit the ground, it knocks you out cold. The last sound you hear is the tearing of metal.
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