Discover Top Posts Tagged with #mando whump

The Firefighter - Chapter Four: The Gift

The Mandalorian AU Series: Firefighter!Din and NursePractitioner!Omera

-----------------------------

Word Count: ~8.4 K

Chapter Summary: Din has an eerie revelation.

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of blood, mild injuries and medical treatment.

><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><

[[Link to Tumblr Masterlist]] | [[Link to A03]]

-------------------

He stares at the two-day old visitor sticker in his hand - more specifically, the ten digit number she had written upon it, along with her name, a name she'd written over his heart. He thinks back to the night on Sanctuary Road, where they stood in front of her home, and how she'd kissed him. He can still feel the memory of her lips upon his cheek.

It makes his stoic heart flutter - she makes it falter in a way it has never done before. Surely she had heard proof of that the day before, when she was assessing him after the accident - his heart had been pounding, but not entirely from pain. No - it was mostly because of her. He blushes, thinking of how very awkward he is and just hopes she doesn't think him a nervous fool. He couldn't deny his feelings for her, but he found it difficult to outrightly admit. Surely she knew his feelings.

She was so kind and trusting, and to a man she barely knew. He still cannot fathom what she sees in him, let alone her willingness to help with the kid.

Between her and the child, his heart and thoughts are fully occupied.

He looks back down to the stack of foster papers he'd started on, only having made it a fraction of the way through before coming upon the section regarding secondary childcare. He realizes he doesn't have a solid plan for daycare when he's at work, but Omera had suggested she did.

He looks again to her number in his hand. She had instructed him to call her, but maybe he’d text in case she was still working. He wasn’t sure how long her night shift was and didn’t want to interrupt. The last thing he wanted was to be a bother.

He picks up his phone and opens the messaging app.

Should he even reach out?

He sighs, hands trembling, thinking for a few moments before finally entering her number in his contacts as “Omera, NP” [nurse practitioner]. He didn't even know her last name, and yet he trusted her beyond reason.

He stares at the blinking cursor in the empty message box, each blink marking another second wasted and ramping up his anxiety. Minutes pass and ultimately, he can’t bring himself to text her just yet.

He suddenly feels he should go visit the kid to clear his head. Slipping on his heavy jacket and donning his helmet, he exits his house, mounts his chrome bike, and starts toward Prairie Wind Hospital.

--------------------------

I wonder how Din is doing, she muses, walking to the med room for an IV fluid bag.

It was a huge thing for him - fostering.

She found it admirable and heartwarming how much of a bond the firefighter and the boy he bravely rescued shared. Despite his steadfast desire to take in the child, he had also been so overwhelmed, as anyone would be. She just hopes he doesn't try to do it alone. She had meant it when she said she wanted to help.

She grabs a liter of D5W IV fluids from the supply and returns to her hypernatremic patient's side, wondering if Din will happen to visit the kid again before her double-shift is done. She glances at the clock and notes it's almost 10 AM.

-------------------------

It's almost 10 AM as he enters through the ER and he immediately spots Omera. He's completely captivated by her - how very concentrated her brown eyes are while hanging an IV fluid bag, the way her jewel-blue stethoscope hangs around her shoulders like a necklace of sorts.

He's unable to take his eyes off of her as he continues walking.

.

BAM!

Ah heck.

He reflexively holds his throbbing nose and can feel the slick of blood underneath. As senses rush back, he realizes he just walked right into the sturdy metal-frame of a flu shot sign.

“Distracted walking, I see,” I.G. pops out of nowhere. "Are you ok?"

Before Din can even process the question, the eccentric nurse is directing him to a nearby ER bed.

This is not going smoothly...

“What happened?” Omera rushes over.

Oh heck, he thinks as embarrassment runs hot under his skin.

“Walked right into a sign,” I.G. relays.

Soon her pen light is in his eyes, blinding him momentarily.

"Follow my finger," she directs.

He humors her, following the side to side, up and down, and back and forth motions she traces in the air.

“I was distracted,” Din confesses, setting his helmet on the bed beside him, incredibly embarrassed to have been such a bumbling fool in front of her. "I-I promise I'm ok," he tries to sell it, but his cracking voice and watering eyes betray him, along with the fact he's still holding his nose.

Unsurprisingly, she doesn't appear convinced and places a pulse oximeter on the finger of his free hand then slides down one side of his jacket to expose his bicep and straps a blood pressure cuff there.

She turns to her monotone colleague, "Can you watch bed four for me?"

"Of course," I.G. quirks his head before pulling the curtains closed and setting off to his task.

I'm trapped now, Din thinks. This isn't exactly how he wanted to see her, but he supposes he can't complain.

He studies her determined face as she gathers supplies and pulls on fresh gloves.

She turns to him, “Let me see your nose.”

He removes his hand and he can feel wetness trickle down. She promptly presses gauze to the area and after a few moments, lifts it carefully to assess the damage, prodding on the periphery.

She subtly winces, “It's not broken, but it’s going to require stitches."

His heart rate spikes in reply and the machine alarms. She glances at the screen.

Damn needles.

"Just take a deep breath," she reassures him. "Here, hold this," she directs, gently cupping his hand to apply pressure to the wound. "Or maybe you'll heal before I can even begin," she teases with a lighthearted grin.

He huffs a laugh, mind now wandering to his recent rapid-healing phenomenon, but not entirely minding the shortened downtime. As she retrieves her supplies from the nearby cart and readies the sutures, he swallows thickly.

"Winta really enjoyed the fire station tour on Saturday. It's all she can talk about," Omera smiles, which dissolves his anxiety away.

"Yeah?" his eyebrows quirk upward.

"It's all I've been thinking about too," she looks him directly in his eyes, motioning his hand down from his nose.

It's all she can think abou-?

He sucks in a sharp breath as she preps the wound with antimicrobial. It stings like a son of a bitch and his eyes water.

"Sorry," she winces.

He must look like a real doofus right now.

"You'll feel a couple pinches," she says with needle in hand, which prompts him to close his eyes.

He feels the stinging prick around the bridge of his nose but it soon fades into a dull pressure. Now sufficiently numbed, he opens his eyes and watches her concentrate on mending his wound, her soft brown eyes focusing intently upon her task.

She's very good at this.

Besides the intermittent squeeze of the blood pressure cuff, his entire attention is drawn to her and her ministrations. Perhaps needles weren't so bad.

“Should maybe wear that helmet more often,” she teases as she snips the final suture.

“Maybe,” he huffs amusedly.

She studies her stitchwork for a moment, then looks him in the eyes. “On second thought, maybe not - I’d miss seeing your smile,” she says sweetly, her face now impossibly close to his. Soft brown eyes shift between his own and she leans in ever-so-slightly; his eyes fall to her full lips. His pulse quickens entirely for her and he doesn't care the damn machine is announcing it.

The curtains pull open and Omera turns.

"Excuse the intrusion, but we have a farming equipment accident, left arm amputation with hemorrhagic shock, limb unsalvageable in field, arriving in approximately three minutes," I.G. reports.

She looks back at Din with sympathetic eyes.

"Good luck - they're in good hands," Din affirms with a nod, blush still running hot through his skin.

She smiles and then strips her gloves and hurries away.

She is a true hero, he muses, feeling incredibly inadequate, but more infatuated than ever.

---------------

Given everyone is busy with the incoming case, he unhooks himself from the machines. He pulls back up the one side of his jacket where the blood pressure cuff had been, and, as he does so, notices a new visitor sticker already in place. Din guesses it was courtesy of I.G., probably placed when he had been directing him to the bed - he huffs a laugh, not very surprised that the eccentric nurse would do such a thing.

With his helmet under his arm, he continues over to the elevator and up to see the kid. Coming through to the colorful unit, the nurses at the station immediately bombard him.

"What happened to that handsome face of yours?" the dark-haired one asks, coming to study it.

Maybe he should have put the helmet on...

"Firefighter stuff huh?" one asks rhetorically.

He’s too embarrassed to say and just let's them fuss.

"Looks like Omera's stitchwork," the brunette one surmises and Din nods.

"Let him see his boy, Nina," one of them says, stepping to nudge her out of the way.

Then yet another nurse comes up to him, but this one holds the kid.

"Little one slept like a rock last night thanks to you. He's still a little groggy this morning," she reports.

"Hey kid," he smiles and the little one grins back. He does look tired.

He reaches toward Din's injured nose and dark eyes grow a little sadder.

"I'm ok, kid," he assures as the nurse hands him over. Small grabby hands seek out his face and the worried eyes staring back are not convinced. Din decides a distraction is in order and slips on his helmet so the kid can’t see the injury.

"There, all better," Din reassures, voice muffled a little.

Eyes full of wonder stare at the new look.

"You look just like his favorite storybook character," one of the nurses snickers.

The kid coos and then giggles as the firefighter tilts his head in question at the nurse.

"Speaking of, how about storytime?" he asks the kid who babbles in reply, still wide-eyed at the head gear Din now dons.

Feeling a bit jumbled from his run-in with the flu vaccine signage, his mind wanders to Omera’s close proximity earlier and what he can only imagine to have been a near-kiss.

Pfffffttttt. The kid blows a raspberry just before his mind wanders into steamier territory and he huffs a laugh.

"Sorry kid, storytime right," Din situates himself and the boy in the recliner, then grabs his favorite book.

He lifts his helmet, the kid watches intently.

"Huh?" Before he knows it, small hands reach to his face, and toward his nose again.

"Bwaa," the little one insists.

"It's ok, kid," he leans back, out of reach. "See, Omera made it better," he points at the stitched wound and smiles. Plus, with my newly acquired healing abilities it'll be fine by tomorrow, he thinks to himself.

The large dark eyes shift between his, not fully convinced. "Bwa," the kid finally sits back down, seemingly a little dejected, and points at the book.

"You are persistent...reminds me of someone else I know," he smiles, thinking of a certain nurse practitioner.

They read through the story, and he is struck again by the similarities. The kid happily listens, resting his head on Din's chest as content as can be. A protective warmth surges beneath the firefighter’s ribs. He looks down to the child.

Large, dark eyes shift up to him and he smiles. This kid is going to be coming home with me in a few days. The reality of the thought sends a pang of nerves through his gut. This little being completely reliant upon me.

The kid rests a hand on his chest and his anxiety fades away.

"You're right," he says, "we got this."

"Boowap," the kid replies.

"Another book then?" he smiles at the rugrat.

Just as they start the new story, a tap comes at the doorway. He looks up to find a dark-haired nurse standing there.

"Omera said she'd be free for lunch in a half hour. You can meet her at the Terrace Garden if you'd like," the nurse says and his heart lightens.

"Thank you," he nods at the woman.

"She likes the vegetarian chili from the café," she winks, before turning away.

Oh.

"Looks like we have a lunch date, huh kid?" he cocks his head at the little one in his lap.

"Bwa!"

------------------

In the Terrace, tucked quietly behind the hospital and overlooking the prairie reserve, she sits at the picnic bench beneath the willow in the wildflower garden. The nearby water fountain babbles, a peaceful, unhurried whitenoise in contrast to the wailing alarms, blood, scrambling hands, wires and lines from earlier. She didn't know if the farmer would survive, but seeing Din and the kid would do her morale some good.

She looks around, but only sees other staff and patients seeking fresh air.

Perhaps it was silly to have asked such a last-minute thing, she thinks. He maybe didn't want lunch after she'd caused him pain and then clearly made a fool of herself by nearly kissing him, a patient, while she was working!

Oh heavens! she pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingertips, scrunching her eyes shut at the embarrassment.

"Omera."

She turns to find him balancing a tray of food along with the happy, bib-wearing kid. Her anxiety instantly fades into joy.

"Sorry we're a little late - brought lunch for you in case you hadn't grabbed anything yet," he smiles and so does the kid.

"Wow, thank you. That is so kind," she beams, elated he had thought of her.

“I hope you like soup; otherwise, I can get you something else," he sets the tray on the table and then sits down, resting the kid on his lap.

“I love soup.” She is so beyond touched that he brought her lunch - she had actually been planning on buying them a meal in the cafe, not the other way around.

"I can't take all the credit,” he rubs the back of his head. “A darked-haired nurse in neon scrubs helped point me to something you might like."

Sounds like Nina. Well, it seems everybody certainly knew she liked the firefighter, so much so, they were literally helping him navigate their meetings.

"Nina definitely knows what I like. Used to work in the ER with me before moving full-time to peds."

"That explains how she knew your stitchwork so well," he quirks his eyebrows.

"I hope they didn't pester you too much on the floor," she grimaces knowing how very nosy they can be, even if it's well-meaning.

He shakes his head, resituating the patient kid on his lap before reaching to the tray. "Here," the kind firefighter hands her a lidded to-go bowl.

His hand grazes hers as she accepts the container which makes her blush. "Wow, thank you," she smiles widely, not used to getting pampered like this - it makes her heart soar.

"It's nothing," he says shyly. He also hands over a napkin, spoon, fresh fruit cup, wrapped whole grain bread roll, and sparkling water for her.

Her eyes go wide. “This a full meal, Din!” she huffs a surprised laugh.

“You deserve it,” he nods.

She opens the lid.

Oh it really was her favorite - spicy vegetarian chili!

She looks into his soft brown eyes, so bright and full of genuine kindness that she could melt.

Oh was he ever handsome.

She takes a bite of the savory stew, and watches as Din helps the kid eat his ravioli, cutting it into small pieces.

He is such a natural father. It makes her swoon. In fact, she finds she cannot stop swooning over the man in front of her.

"How is it?" he asks, kind brown eyes glancing through the dark brown curls that hang over his forehead.

"Wonderful. Thank you," she smiles, then takes another bite, but she misses some and it drips down her chin.

Oh heavens.

"Um, you got a little something," he smiles, gesturing to her face. Then, almost instantly, he holds up a napkin to her and leans over the table, reaching to clean her face. "May I?"

She nods. "Sorry, I'm messy," she laughs, more than a little embarrassed as he gently wipes her chin, but enjoying the attention. "Thank you."

He smiles and blushes as he leans back. "Not as messy as him," he clears his throat, returning to assisting the sauce-faced kid with his fork.

She chuckles. True.

"Are you going to eat?" she asks, having taken notice of his lack of meal.

"Maybe once he's done. Got a smoothie," he gestures to a cup still on the tray.

She smiles. She knows how it is - kids take priority, but you also have to find time for yourself.

The kid tires of the fork and grabby hands soon find the pasta pieces, stuffing them into his mouth, making quick work of the remainder of the plate.

"Kid, you're a mess," Din sighs humorously. "Good thing they gave us extra napkins."

"Batoo!" the kid protests as the firefighter wipes his squirmy saucy hands and face.

She laughs at the adorable sight.

He hands the kid a small cup of chocolate milk and the boy does great managing the open cup without much spilling. Din chases the stray dribbles with a napkin before they fall too far down the kid's bib.

Once done with the beverage, the kid obviously wants down, pointing and fussing.

“Hold on kid.” Din removes the soiled bib and let's him off his lap to the ground. He sighs and chuckles as the little one starts with a few uneven steps, before resorting to crawling toward the tall grass. He hasn’t mastered walking yet, but he’d be hell on two feet soon, and she’d be there to help Din through it.

"You're so good with him," she smiles, watching the new father attentively monitoring the kid.

"He makes it easy on me," he grins, watching as the kid plops down not far away and grabs at the tall tasseled meadow grass at the edge of the prairie reserve.

As she finishes her meal, he finally sips on his smoothie, keeping an eye on the kid. She tidies up her side of the table, setting the compostables back on the tray. Then she joins Din's side to study the swelling around his handsome nose (but also to be closer) - he turns to watch her as she seats herself next to him. He sets the drink down, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Your nose isn't healed yet," her eyes sweep over the stitches.

"Sorry to disappoint," he smiles, a dimple resting in his one cheek.

"Perhaps it needs a kiss to activate the rapid-healing," she almost cannot believe she said that out loud and is about to apologize.

"May-be," he replies, husky voice breaking. His blush only grows a deeper mauve.

She leans in gently, just about to press her lips to the tip of his nose, below the gash...

"Hey kid!" Din suddenly pulls away and is up from the bench in a blink.

Startled, she turns to find the kid had caught a frog in the wildflowers.

"Put that down," Din reprimands.

"Batoo."

He kneels down to the child's level, "Here, let's put him back in the fountain."

Din carries the kid to the water and has him release the creature there.

"Bah," the kid waves as the frog swims for dear life away from the curious boy.

He turns to Omera, "Sorry for the scare. This one probably should get back before he causes any more trauma to the wildlife."

She laughs and smiles. “Thank you for the wonderful lunch. I’ll clean up - you have your hands full,” she nods to the wriggling kid in his arms.

Din nods and goes to return inside.

"I'm off tomorrow if you needed help with the paperwork," she adds.

He turns, “Are you sure?"

"Of course - whatever I can do to help. It’s my pleasure,” she smiles.

He shyly looks down at the ground then back at her, “My shift is done at 6pm, but you could stop by the station again for lunch...Winta is welcome too of course.”

She nods, grateful for the offer. “She’ll be in school until three-thirty.”

“Right,” he nods.

“Noon again?” she confirms.

“Yes,” he smiles. “Thank you again, Omera.”

Waving to the adorable dark-eyed kid who peeks over the firefighter’s shoulder, she watches as they make their way through the garden back toward the back entrance. She’s absolutely beaming that she’d get to see Din again tomorrow.

-----------------------

He says goodbye to the snoozing kid, this time proving no easier than the previous, and the nurses fuss and thank him for entertaining the little rugrat today.

He exits through the ER, hoping for a glimpse of Omera, but instead only finds I.G. who gives a friendly nod.

The eccentric nurse always seemed to be working...

Just as he's about to don the helmet in the parking lot, his phone rings. He grabs it from his pocket and looks at the screen.

Sheriff Dune.

“Hello?”

“Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?” she asks.

“No.” He’s immensely curious what the call is about.

“Got some news regarding the warehouse fire case. They never found the bassinet you mentioned, but that man you described, I found him," she reports.

"Did he offer anything helpful?" he asks, feeling intrigued.

"That's the thing. He claims he had seen some black, unlicensed SUVs at the property later that evening, after the fire had been put out," she relays. “We’re checking local surveillance footage, but nothing so far.”

That's very odd.

“The man also seemed a little paranoid, talking about Empire Incorporated and thinking it’s all some kind of cover up,” she huffs a laugh.

“Oh,” he realizes maybe the man isn't too reliable.

“Just take care of yourself, Din. I’ll let you know if we make any more breaks, but right now, it’s only getting murkier. Let us know if you see anything strange - the guy might just be a conspiracy theorist, but something still seems off about all of this.”

"Thanks Cara."

He pockets the cell phone, then hops on his motorcycle, daylight growing golden and mature in the cloud-speckled sky. He takes off, turning onto County Road 4, cruising through the rolling prairie reserve. He still has so much to do between the paperwork, getting supplies for the kid, and setting up a room. He’s immensely grateful for Omera’s assistance - he’d be lost without her, but he also didn’t want to abuse her kindness. He then remembers he had a visit from the county tonight to ensure his house was child-safe.

Movement in his side mirror catches his eye. He glances to find a dark vehicle rapidly gaining on him.

That’s odd.

He speeds up to avoid getting hit - judging by their trajectory, he isn’t sure they are paying attention.

But the car only speeds up. He can make out more details as they approach - a black SUV, with dark tinted windows. No license plate.

Chills run up his spine.

Din engages the throttle even more to clear the remainder of the prairie throughway as fast as he feels safe. Suddenly, ahead another black SUV emerges, blocking the lanes.

What the?

He’s forced to slow down, despite not liking this scenario one bit. He keeps ahead at a steady pace toward the parked SUV ahead, then decides to take his bike off-road last-moment. The uneven ground rattles the handle bars as he races through the tall grass, praying there aren’t any large boulders, mounds, or divots in his path. Now past the roadblock, he turns back toward the road, gunning it. He then takes the next turn down a side street, and then another.

He checks his mirrors. There's absolutely no sign of the black SUVs.

He’s lost them. Already?

He circles around another couple neighborhoods and parks on a side street. He pries off his helmet and catches his breath, before dialing Sheriff Dune.

“Din? What’s up?”

“You wanted to hear about anything strange, right?” He's not sure what the hell just happened.

---------------

He starts his shift bright and early after a restless night thinking about the incident yesterday...he had barely said anything to the county child services worker who'd stopped by last night for a house visit. He passed, but it didn't really feel like it at the time. It seemed a threat was looming. Something he wasn’t prepared for. Dune said she would have extra patrols scouting for suspicious vehicles the next couple days. She also said she wasn't sure if it was connected to the kid, but Din had a bad feeling. The fact whoever was inside the SUVs had chosen the reserve stretch of County Road 4 probably meant they wanted an area without cameras or witnesses for whatever they had planned.

But why him? Were they after the kid? But why?

“You look like you could use this,” Paz shoves a cup of black, gut-rot brew in front of him. His stomach churns at the thought of putting anything in it at the moment.

“Your girlfriend dump you or something?” Paz goads.

Din glares at the large man and huffs. “No.”

“Just the wrong side of the bed, huh?” the larger man huffs. "Lose a fight?" he points to his own nose in reference to the stitches running over Din's.

Din puffs and sighs, “You could say that.”

The radios clipped on their chests spontaneously crackle: "10-82. Kitchen fire at 2020 5th St SW, Tatooine residence."

Like a reflex, both are up and donning the bunker gear in a blink to respond to the call.

Good - it will give his nervous energy something to do.

--------------------------------------

After getting back from the house fire, which was quickly contained, the rest of the morning is uneventful. His nerves finally settle from the encounter the night before and he instead finds himself looking forward to Omera’s visit, hoping that nothing comes up around their meeting. His thoughts soon wander to all the preparatory work he still needs to do prior to the kid's discharge - all the supplies needed.

"Another date?" Vizsla's voice teasingly rumbles.

Huh? He looks up and finds her old teal SUV pulling into the lot.

It's already noon!

"Didn't scare her off yet - nice work, Djarin!" his colleague chortles.

Despite his long-suffering nature, Din nearly rolls his eyes at Paz. He gets up from his air tank maintenance to greet her at the bay entrance, feeling his heart flutter. She walks over with a lunch basket hooked on her arm, a sunny smile on her face and long, dark hair flowing behind as she approaches.

She's stunning, he thinks distractedly. Before he knows it, his foot catches a stray hose. Stumbling, he catches himself last-moment before taking a nosedive.

"He's really falling for you," Vizsla chortles loudly before disappearing into the breakroom.

Embarrassment creeps warm and red under his skin. What a doofus she must think I am, he chastises himself.

"I think I'm falling too," she winks, taking it in stride.

His heart rate picks up, racing along with his thoughts at her statement; despite the playfulness, he couldn't help but hold onto the truth of it.

"How's your nose?" she comes close and studies it.

Words are something he's wholly incapable of at the moment.

"Not yet healed, but looking good," she assesses. "Your super-healing powers are lagging," she smiles teasingly.

"G-guess so," he finally manages some speech.

"Well, shall we get those documents filled out?" she asks.

"Oh, yes. Just have to grab them from my car," he points out the bay to his vintage, hand-me-down vehicle, shining in the bright midday sun.

"You do have a car," she says as though it's a revelation.

He didn't use it unless he needed to transport multiple persons or something that wouldn't fit on his motorcycle, of which, both scenarios were exceedingly rare.

"Much more practical transportation with a kid," she adds.

"Yeah, was my dad's car," he opens the passenger door and grabs the stack of papers. "It's old, but has seat belts, should fit a carseat in back no problem. Going to bring it to the shop to make sure it's in perfect condition before the kid comes home."

Peli will no doubt charge him an arm and a leg for a tune-up.

She smiles. "It's a nice car," she lovingly runs her hand over the hood, which makes him smile. No one ever complimented such an old car.

Documents in hand, he closes the door and they walk over to the shaded picnic bench.

"Alright, let's go through it," she says, setting down the food basket and reaching out for the papers.

"I filled out almost everything," he relays as he surrenders them over along with a pen. "Dog-eared pages are the ones that still need to be completed and I'm a bit stuck."

She flips through the documents to the first folded page, eyes scanning back and forth. Din looks and it's the Emergency Contact page.

"I'll be a contact," she looks at him, "if that's ok with you."

"Are you sure?" he was going to ask Greef or Paz if all else failed - but he still didn't want to place that burden upon her, unless she was very sure.

"Yes," she smiles, "I'm 100% certain and would love to."

"Thank you," he doesn't know what else to say. He watches as she fills out the information.

Omera Anang - her full name. He hadn't known her last name until just now, and it was beautiful, fitting her perfectly.

Once done with that section, she then flips through to the next incomplete page: Secondary Childcare.

"Caben and Stoke already said they would love to babysit. Again, if that's ok with you. They are great with Winta and have been watching her since she was even younger than your boy," she offers.

It's only about a 10 minute drive, so it'd work rather well. He doesn't need much more than that to make the decision.

"Thank you. Yes, that would be perfect," he nods, completely overwhelmed and thankful for her solving some of his most worrisome dilemmas. He had been considering childcare through a county first-responder program, but this was leagues better. He already kind of knew Caben and Stoke and he fully trusted Omera and any recommendation she could make.

She jots down their information, completing that section and they flip through the remainder of the pages to ensure everything is completed.

"Looks like it's done!" she nods, then studies the last page: The list of child supplies.

Oh shoot, he hadn't meant to keep that one there. The county worker that had visited last night left him a list of everything he needed for the child to thrive. And was it ever a LONG list.

"I still have a lot of shopping to do," he reaches to take it from her, embarrassed he's so under-prepared.

“I still have a lot of things from when Winta was a baby," she gently grabs his hand in hers, redirecting him from snatching the paper. She goes down and ticks off nearly 75% of the items listed. "I would like to offer them, if that's ok."

He couldn’t ask that of her, could he?

“Are you sure?” he confirms.

“Yes, it’s just collecting dust in my attic,” she smiles.

He nods, unsure what to say, how to possibly voice his gratitude for such incredible generosity. It was all too much, too kind. Just like the beautiful woman before him.

"Also, the pediatric nurses have already been buying some things for you too, which I know knocks the remainder from this list," she checks the rest of the items. "Even if you only foster, you can donate the new supplies,” she adds.

Oh wow. It’s really all too much - too kind. But fostering is going to work. It's really going to happen. The kid is going to come home with him…at least for now. He’d cross the adoption bridge when or if he got there.

“Din? Are you ok?” she gently holds his wrist.

His eyes shift back to her soft brown ones. “Yes. I’m just - I cannot believe how much support I’m getting. It’s...thank you,” he’s tongue-tied.

"Of course," she squeezes his hand. "You're not alone. I admire, everyone admires what you are doing for the boy - it's the least we can do."

He smiles, clearly she is some kind of guardian angel.

"Well, let's eat before you get called away," she smiles warmly, releasing his hand and then starts unpacking their lunch. "Made sandwiches again - hope you don't mind," she hands him a wrapped peanut butter and jelly.

She didn't have to bring, let alone make him anything.

"Thank you - y-you didn't need to," he stammers. She's doing so much for him.

"My pleasure," she grins, taking a large bite of her sandwich.

He unwraps his and takes a bite, fully expecting his radio to burst into a call at any moment as it usually did when he started a meal, but it's radio silence for once.

"So much better than a protein bar," he compliments.

"You don't cook much?" she asks, taking a sip of sparkling water.

"I do - just when at work, I keep it simple. Fire calls are unpredictable."

"What do you like to make at home?" she leans in, taking another bite.

"Soup, stir fries, roasts mostly. I hope the kid likes it," he huffs a laugh.

"As long as it's soft and not a choking risk," she reassures.

"I have so much to learn and do," he starts feeling overwhelmed again.

"Hey, you got this. I'll bring by some stuff tonight, if that's ok?" she offers sweetly.

He looks up at her, her kind touch grounding him and his runaway thoughts.

"Only if I can make you dinner - Winta's of course invited too," he smiles. He had a stew going in the slow cooker already - one of his favorites - and he thinks she and her daughter might like it too.

"Deal," she grins.

They finish eating their meal under the shade of the oak tree while Omera gives key pointers on caring for a toddler, which both amazes and overwhelms him. He finds himself taking notes on the back of the supply list.

"If you ever need help or have a question, I'm just a call away. If I'm with a patient, that's the only time I might delay in getting back to you," she says.

He is beyond grateful to her and he looks into her relentlessly kind eyes. She reaches to his hand resting on the table, taking it in hers again. His heart beats incredibly quick at the sensation as she circles her fingertips over his palm. Eyes meet his, and then he stares at her lips. She's so beautiful and kind and...

Beep! Beep! Beep! Her phone chimes.

“Gotta pick up Winta,” she winces, releasing her hand and silencing the alarm. She gathers the leftovers in her basket. “I promise you a proper kiss eventually,” she quickly pecks his cheek.

His heart stumbles then races at the thought.

“Thank you again, Omera - for everything,” he takes some of the garbage from her.

“Of course - see you tonight around 6:30?” she looks into his eyes.

He nods. "I'll text you my address," he says.

"See you then!" she shouts over her shoulder as she jogs over to her car.

Din waves as she departs, so very smitten. He has absolutely zero idea what she sees in him, but just hopes she keeps seeing whatever it is. He takes a deep breath to gather his thoughts, tossing the garbage in the receptacle and then grabs completed paperwork to return to his car.

"She's coming over tonight?" Paz chuckles from the bay opening. "Smooth, Djarin."

Din shakes his head at his eavesdropping colleague.

"Your heart-eyes are still showing," Vizsla adds.

Even for someone as dense as Paz could be, it wasn’t difficult at all to see that Din was indeed irrevocably lovesick.

----------------------

His heart is racing as the doorbell rings. He rushes from the kitchen to the front door, having placed the last table setting and tidying up - all within 20 minutes of getting home.

He clears his throat, swallows nervously, and takes a deep breath just before opening the door.

"Welcome," he greets Omera and Winta with a smile. Omera is as beautiful as ever...

"Din," Winta smiles. "I'm glad you're ok," her arms are immediately around his waist.

"She was still worried after your cattle accident," Omera smiles widely.

"Yes, thanks to your Mom, I'm A-ok," Din reassures.

She lets go and looks at his face, obviously focusing on his stitches, "You get hurt a lot."

He chuckles, "Seems that way."

"Good thing you're dating my mom - she can fix anything," the girl says casually.

Din blushes furiously, completely befuddled at the girl's statement, and Omera is hiding her face behind her hands.

"Woah, your place is so cool!" the girl's attention is drawn behind him and she shuffles past. Winta's wide-eyes look everywhere. "It smells so good too!"

"Your house is cleaner than mine," Omera laughs lightheartedly. "And dinner smells amazing." She leans in, giving him a kiss on his cheek. "I still promise a real one later," she whispers into his ear and his knees nearly give out.

Breathe, he reminds himself.

"Momma, you should see this weird TV," Winta shouts from the other room, then races over to her mom.

"Winta, manners," she reprimands, as her daughter pulls her hand to go look.

"It is a weird TV," he chuckles, following the two. He still had a cathode ray tube (bubble-screen) TV, positively archaic by today's standards.

"Does it even have a remote?" Winta asks as they turn into the living room.

"It does," he chuckles.

"How about we get some stuff inside?" Omera suggests to him and Winta. "If there's still time before dinner's ready that is?"

Din nods.

"Momma packed like all my old baby stuff. She said you're getting a son to take care of. Do I get to visit him?" her eyes beam and beg.

"Sure, if that's ok with your mom," Din smiles, deferring to Omera.

Omera nods. "Of course."

They all file out the front and to her car.

It's packed.

"Omera - th-this is too kind," he stutters, floored by the sheer volume of baby gear.

"Babies need a lot of work and supplies. I should know," she ruffles Winta's already wild hair.

"Mommaaa," Winta grouses, smoothing her hair back down.

"You'll always be my little sunflower," she smiles, handing a smaller box to her daughter. Din can't help but smile in return - he had a wealth of parenting knowledge to glean from Omera.

Din goes around to the other side and opens the door, catching a box like a viper before it tumbles onto the driveway.

"Good reflexes," Omera grins. "You served in the military, didn't you?"

"Yes, why you ask?" he gazes at her.

"I saw a Distinguished Flying Cross medal on your wall, and your reflexes," she looks at him, "I don't mean to pry."

"Served as an Airforce pilot for a few years, many years ago. Took a shot to the leg and shrapnel in my chest during ground combat; it sent me home. I was lucky in comparison," he tries his best not to relive the past, all for a war he didn't even really want to fight in. "Fire department took me back when I recovered."

"I'm so sorry," she says softly.

"It's ok. I was grateful they took me in, that I had a job. It isn't always easy for veterans."

"Woah, you got shot. Does it still hurt? Did they get the bullets out?" Winta asks, rapidfire.

"Winta," Omera scolds.

"It's ok," he says to Omera, then turns to Winta. "Doesn't really hurt anymore. Thankfully they got all the pieces out."

"Thanks for your service," the girl says politely and Din takes her words to heart. It wasn’t often he was thanked for anything.

They carry the boxes into the living room and make a handful more trips to get the rest inside. Omera is obviously strong as she carries more than her fair share of heavy items. After giving them a brief tour of the house, they end up back in the entryway.

"Ok, I'm famished now," Winta wipes her brow.

Omera laughs at her daughter's dramatic antics.

"Well you're in luck because I made a lot of food," he replies.

He leads them into the kitchen, a fresh loaf of bread in the center of the table, along with fresh fruit and cookies (the cookies were a nearly weekly delivery, courtesy of Mrs. Frock and her many children - he and Paz had rescued her from a car incident months ago).

"Coogies!" Winta chirps.

"After dinner," Omera chuckles.

Din laughs too. It's not like he didn't eat a couple before they arrived...

"What would you like to drink? I have root beer, water, milk, orange juice," he addresses Winta, listing the kid-friendly beverages.

"I'll have root beer!" the girl decides.

"Me too," Omera smiles.

"Coming right up," he grabs the beverages from the fridge as they wash up in the sink. "Main course is harvest stew. It's a little spicy, but it's a family recipe," he sets their beverages on the counter

"Sounds perfect," Omera says.

"I like spicy," Winta nods.

He serves up the bowls and soon they all dig in.

"This is wonderful," the nurse practitioner compliments.

"Yum!" Winta burps.

Omera gives a look at her daughter.

"Excuse me," she peeps. "It's just so good!"

"I'll take it as a compliment," Din nods with a smile.

The bread dwindles to less than half a loaf and bowls are filled a second time. Between bites, Winta tells Din about her day at school and he finds himself listening, attentive to every word the bright girl has to say. She was a good kid.

Right after Winta finishes her second half-bowl, she asks, "Coogie time?!"

"Sure," Omera laughs, then looks at Din. "It's the way the younger generation pronounces 'cookie' now apparently."

Din chuckles.

They sit awhile and enjoy the sweets, Omera and Din exchanging soft and shy glances as Winta chatters away about the racoonian raiders on their street. He suddenly gets an idea.

"I can help build a taller fence around the garden," he offers. "It's the least I can do in return for everything you, Caben and Stoke have offered."

"Can I help?" Winta asks immediately.

"We'll see, I have to get a permit first," he replies to the eager girl.

"We'd love that," Omera smiles. "Your boy takes priority though."

He doesn't know how much freetime, if any, he'll have once the kid comes to live with him, but maybe once his fostering is over...his heart sinks at the thought. He find he wants to visit the kid tonight, but he has far too much to prepare.

"Can I take your bowl?" Winta asks, breaking him from his thoughts.

He looks and she already has Omera's stacked inside her's.

"Thank you," he nods, surprised but heartwarmed by the gesture. "You can just put it in the sink." He gets up and cleans the rest of the table and places the leftover stew in the fridge.

"Would you like help setting up his room? We'd love to help," Omera asks and Winta nods wildly.

"That would be great actually," he feels a weight release from his chest - he had absolutely zero idea on how to set up a kid's room.

They bring boxes from the living room and up the stairs to the second floor where the kid's room will be. Din had cleared it out a few days ago, so it's essentially a blank slate. Once everything is in the boy's room and Winta is busy unpacking the toys, gender-neutral clothing, and blankets, he and Omera set up a baby gate at the top and bottom of the staircase - it will be peace of mind when the little one happens to crawl around on either level.

"I never thought I'd have hurdles on my stairs," he huffs amusedly, admiring their handiwork.

She chuckles, "Well, off to set up the crib?" she places a hand on his shoulder.

He nods and they go up the stairs to the room together.

"I think I'm all done," Winta announces as the turn through the doorway.

The room has empty boxes neatly stacked and toys are set up nicely on the dresser.

"Thank you Winta." Din is amazed.

"Can I watch your weird TV? My favorite show is on soon," she asks.

"Sure," Din chuckles.

"Thank you!" she quickly hugs Din's waist and then is off in a blink.

"Oh, she can be something else," Omera shakes her head.

"She's a good kid, a reflection of her mother," he looks in Omera's eyes.

She smiles shyly and then goes to retrieve a slat of the crib - Din follows suit. Omera holds the pieces in place as Din fastens them together. Soon the crib is assembled with their teamwork. They step back and admire the finished result.

"They grow unimaginably fast - it's almost unfair," Omera reminisces.

"Winta is lucky to have such a wonderful mother," he places a hand gentle on her shoulder from behind. Her hand comes to rest over his, sending electricity through his nerves from her touch.

"Someone say my name?" Winta's voice appears from behind. "Woah, look it's all set up!" She bounds into the room.

Din can't believe it, but it actually looks like a nursery now - like it was always meant to be.

"What's your son's name?" Winta breaks his internal thoughts.

Oh - um...

He clears his throat, "I don't know. He probably has one already, but he's too young to tell me."

"You got a picture of the little fella?" the curious girl asks.

"Yeah," he smiles - the nurses had insisted upon a photo the other day. He pulls it up on his phone and hands it to her.

She studies it for a split-second. "Greg, he looks like a Greg." She hands back the phone.

Omera hides her face in her hand at her daughter's enthusiastic lack of filter.

He nods and chuckles. "You know, I kind of like that name," he smiles.

Omera smiles then pulls Winta to her side. "Alright, it's getting late and I know you still have homework, sunflower."

"Ugh, I'm only ten. Why do they give us so much homework?" she moans.

"To keep your intelligent mind challenged and engaged," she playfully taps her fingers over her daughter's head.

"It just makes the teacher happy to torture us," she halfheartedly swats her mom's hands away.

"Winta."

"Ok, I'm sorry," she mopes.

"Thank you again for hosting," Omera smiles at Din.

"Thank you," he walks them down the stairs, opening the gates. "Thank you both for all your help - I honestly could not have done it without you," he smiles, heart so full of gratitude.

At the door, Winta gives Din another hug and Omera does too, which has his brain short-circuiting and heart floundering.

"Call or text if you need anything," she kindly reminds again as they get into her car.

He waves as they take off. He finds he could get used to them always being around, as if they were also a missing piece to his life that somehow made him feel more complete.

----------------------

The next morning, he turns in the completed paperwork to the hospital unit social worker who quickly flips through to confirm all necessary parts are filled out.

“Looks complete," the man says. "It should be processed by tomorrow, and if all goes smoothly, you will be taking the kid home Thursday.”

“Thanks,” Din nods and then turns out of the office to go see the kid. Then the event from a couple nights ago pops into his head. Would the child be safe to come home with Din? Wonder if he’s followed again - or worse? He had to have faith Cara’s patrols would keep them safe. He just had to.

He turns into the kid’s room and the boy is standing up in his crib, reaching out for Din.

Have you noticed anything else strange? Cara’s words play in his memory like a track on repeat.

“Hiiiiii,” the kid greets.

Strange? Din starts to think about his unexplained quickened healing and his nerves sputter. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before now, but it had started since the kid.

It couldn’t be.

His heart palpitates and mind races and the implication.

It was just a coincidence, right? Things like that aren’t possible.

He peers into the large dark eyes.

Pffffffftttttt! The kid blows a raspberry getting Din’s face wet and then giggles.

He huffs a laugh, wiping the spray from his cheeks, feeling incredibly silly for even thinking something supernatural was happening.

“Your only power is messiness,” he laughs. Along with your ability to put up with me, he thinks softly to himself.

“Storytime?” he asks the happy kid.

“Bwa!”

*Unbeknownst to Din, as he seats himself and the child in the chair, the child's favorite book silently tips up on its side upon the nightstand, seemingly on its own.*

------------------------------------------------

Author's Note:

Things are HAPPENING 😱 Thank you for taking the time to read and for all of the lovely feedback and support ❤ I can’t believe how many people are enjoying this story - it really means the world. Stay safe & healthy & Happy New Year! [[Chapter 5 should be out by February - and in honor of Valentine’s day, a Mandomera date is definitely in order. Omera’s gotta deliver on that “real kiss” promise!!]]

-> Side note: I had decided that "Anang" is Omera’s last name - it is Native American Ojibwe for “star”. “Omera” is Arabic for “inspiration”. Her name is literally “inspiring star”, which is fitting as she is Din’s guiding star 🥰🌟

----------------

-> As always, BIG shoutout to @eatsleepandsing (cchascona on AO3) for the INCREDIBLE Firefighter!Din x Nurse!Omera AU idea that prompted this miniseries to begin with and also to @sheena-is-a-punk-rocker (Sheena_Is_A_Punk_Rocker on AO3) for all her encouragement and giving it a preread as I’ve never done AU before and am still not convinced with it - I’m trying! -> I made Omera a Certified Nurse Practitioner (CNP) vs an RN so she could make more treatment decisions and perform more technical treatments on Din without an MD (this way they could spend more time together alone upon their initial meeting!)

I hope you enjoy! Please leave me comments if you enjoy!

#mando whump

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#mando whump