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One of the rare occasions Din feels comfortable enough to leave the cabin you share without his helmet is when the stars twinkle high in the sky above Nevarro. At night, when it is too dark to see more than the length of a womp rat’s tail, he feels relaxed enough to join you outside without the protection of his impressive suit of armour.
You find yourself giddy each time with delight at the thought of him joining you outside, with his face briefly bared to the galaxy
Usually, the two of you sit quietly on the porch while Grogu sleeps soundly inside, perched on the wooden bench you chose from the weekly market that passes through the town at the heart of this volcanic planet. After you moved in, Din realised that the seating arrangements on his porch could only accommodate one.
Buying it was another reminder that Din is far from alone.
So you lounge there on the bench night after night, hand in hand. Only unlacing your fingers to pour a glass of the latest exotic beverage donated by the ever-generous High Magistrate of Nevarro.
Tonight is no exception.
Grogu was surprisingly quick to settle. Satisfied that his son was fast asleep, Din did not even have to ask whether you cared to join him for a drink on the porch. A simple look and nod were enough to convey the question.
You know Din enjoys the peace and quiet the porch affords. Especially after long days spent raising a Mandalorian child so strong with the Force. Even though he no longer retains employment in the traditional sense – save from occasionally helping Greef Karga whenever he calls for help – raising Grogu is as demanding as any full-time job. Din rarely has a chance to relax.
Stopping and staying still for a moment has never been particularly in his nature. Even though he is technically retired now, he would still shun such a term.
Instead, Din always seems to have a job on the go. There is always a now seldom-used blaster to clean, or a piece of armour now worn only occasionally to be polished, or maintenance for the ageing N-1 to carry out. The cabin has had more renovations and furniture rearrangements than you can count. But you never stop him. It gives him a sense of purpose, away from raising Grogu.
Despite your lives being far less busy than when you first met, evenings, where you pause on the porch, are a rare moment of relaxation for both Din and you. Alone with your thoughts, with only the faint sounds of creatures chirping across the lava flats and your even breaths for a soundtrack.
The stillness of the night appears to have left your favourite Mandalorian in a pensive mood.
Din gazes upwards towards the dark sky with a curious look in his eyes. As he surveys the stars, his brown eyes twinkle with an emotion you cannot quite place.
You watch him for a few moments; scanning his face for the slightest tell. A task which has increased in difficulty with the more time that passes.
When Din first began to remove the helmet, it had been easy to read his emotions. A life of obscuring his features beneath beskar meant that he was unaware of how expressive his face was.
Still, the cycles spent together mean that his handsome features and brown eyes are still relatively easy to read for someone who knows Din as well as you. Yet, much to your disappointment, Din has become more adept at hiding his emotions.
You wait a few minutes, gauging whether he will break the silence. Until you can take it no longer:
“What’s on your mind, riduur? ” you finally ask, desperate to understand what thoughts linger behind those brown eyes.
Din turns to look at you, his eyes meeting your gaze as his plush lips curve into a half smile, “Thinking about the odds of us meeting, how there were as many chances our paths never crossed as there are stars above us.”
“Din…” you whisper, touched by the sentimental side of the man you love.
“You must think about it too…” Din asserts.
“I do,” you confess, “I wonder how a chump like me was ever lucky enough to capture your heart. How is it even possible that the tall, mysterious Mandalorian, who so intrigued me when our paths first crossed back on Coruscant, was equally infatuated with me?”
“I was,” Din whispers, “From the moment I saw you.”
You nod, squeezing Din’s hand tightly.
“I know,” you add, your chest swelling with pride at his admission.
You sit there for a few more moments, enjoying the silence and the security you feel from his love as the realisation that you have captured his heart hits you all over again.
It is Din, this time, who breaks the silence:
“Do you ever miss that planet? Your life there?” Din asks.
Clearly, your mention of your first meeting on the planet at the centre of the galaxy has caused him to cast his mind back over your life together.
“I haven't thought about it for a long time,” you shrug, pausing for a few seconds to consider your reply, before continuing, “I suppose, if anything, I miss the eternal busyness of Coruscant. There was less silence to sit in, to be alone with my thoughts. The hustle and bustle kept me occupied, and there was always something exciting going on.”
Din raises an eyebrow quizzically at your admission, and you realise how those words could have inadvertently made it appear that your life here on Nevarro is boring somehow. That could not be further from the truth.
You quickly move to reassure him, “Now, of course, I realise I was so keen to stay busy because I was not comfortable in my own skin. I could not bear the thought of feeling, certainly not of loving anyone. You changed that, Din. I have found joy even in the quietness here on Nevarro with you and Grogu.”
Din nods, apparently satisfied with your answer. You breathe a sigh of relief. Then, you feel your tenseness give way to softness as you melt at how his eyes suddenly appear glassy, shimmering even in the darkness. Your words have clearly affected him.
Din squeezes your hand before he brings it to his lips, pressing an affectionate kiss to the back of your hand. You chuckle lightly at the way his moustache bristles against your soft skin.
The moment is sweet, but you do not intend to let it pass entirely. You are curious whether Din misses his past life, or whether he is as content as you are. Happy to peacefully sit here on your porch together.
“What about you, Din? Do you ever miss your old life?” you question.
“Parts of it,” Din nods, “I suppose I miss the thrill of the chase. The constantly changing scenery. But not so much the violence and injuries that lifestyle entailed.”
“I bet,” you smirk, “You must have sustained some grisly injuries over the years…”
Din tilts his head back slightly, shuts his eyes and sighs deeply; as though he is placing himself back somewhere he has not thought of for a long time.
“I did,” he finally murmurs, slightly wincing at the thought, if you are not mistaken, “Nothing hurts quite like a cracked rib,” Din confesses.
“Awwww, my poor Mandalorian,” you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek, his stubble rough against the palm of your hand.
“Don’t baby me!” Din huffs affectionately, sticking his bottom lip out in an adorable pout.
“Never,” you smirk, leaning in to gently press a kiss against the tip of his prominent nose; strong and proud just like the man you love so much.
You stay there for a few moments, your thumb stroking his cheek softly as you gaze at his handsome features; at the scars and lines that characterise his face. There is a certain ruggedness to him now. He is slightly greyer, with more wrinkles than when you first met him. Yet, you are still as attracted to him as you were that day when you first laid eyes upon him in a New Republic office building on Coruscant.
When you finally break the moment and lean back in your seat, Din announces that he needs to use the 'fresher. He grunts slightly as he stands, the movement placing strain upon his battered and bruised body, still scarred from his many years following such a brutal way of life as a nomadic warrior.
That small sound reminds you of just how much lingers below the surface. Usually, Din can hide it with an effortlessness that never even makes you consider the many lingering injuries he must be carrying. But your earlier conversation has brought it to the forefront of your mind. So many legacies of Din’s former way of life are imperceptible to the naked eye. So much pain you will never know about, because he keeps it to himself.
You wonder how much longer he would have lived had he continued leading that life. You wince as you consider what quality of life he would have had if he had continued even slightly longer. If he had waited until a particularly bruising skirmish, you are sure that he would have been plagued by his injuries, chronic pain and fatigue.
Choosing to live a different Way, while still respecting his duties as a Mandalorian, means that life looks rather different for Din now.
You are certain that leaving his demanding line of work was a decision which will allow him to live many more years happily, with both you and Grogu. A quieter life with his riduur and the boy who saved him from a life of such violence.
You are so absorbed in your thoughts that you do not hear Din's footsteps until they echo across the porch. The sound startles you slightly. You hastily wipe the few tears which had sprung at your waterline before you turn to look up at him curiously as he makes no move to return to his seat. When you fully appraise the scene before you, you realise he is clutching the blanket you throw on your bunk during the cooler months. You shoot him a quizzical look.
“Come on, I want to try something,” Din says as he jerks his head towards the lava flats that lie just beyond the porch.
“But... Grogu?” you question hesitantly.
“Don’t worry, cyar’ika. We aren’t going far,” Din reassures you as he holds his hand out to you.
You take it and follow him as he pulls you by the hand towards your intended destination which is, as promised, only a few paces away. Din has selected flat ground to spread the blanket on. He drops your hand momentarily to smooth out the coarse material, before Din laces his fingers through yours once more.
“Looking up at the stars before didn't just make me nostalgic. It also made me consider how nice it would be to lie out here with you. It’s so dark here, far away from the town, that I bet we can see every single star in the galaxy,” Din explains, “Maybe some comet storms if we’re lucky.”
As your eyes fill with tears, you slowly shake your head, “Din,” you whisper, touched by his sentimental side, “It sounds like a perfect idea.”
Din does not hesitate a second longer, clearly eager to gaze at the skies and appreciate all the sights the night sky has to offer. He lies back on the blanket, leaving enough space for you to join him.
You lean your cheek on the expanse of his firm chest, feeling the warmth through the thin cotton shirt he wears despite the slight chill in the air. Din’s arms wrap around your waist.
A feeling of security envelops you.
You never feel more protected from all the monstrousness in the galaxy, all the evil that you and Din are only too aware of from your past lives than when you are lying in his arms. As you nuzzle into his chest, you feel his heart thumping rhythmically against your ear. You are grateful that it still beats; that you have captured his heart.
Who knows if he would even still be here if it wasn’t for that encounter with Grogu on Arvala-7? That the brutal pace of his life and the numerous enemies he had made would not have eventually caught up with him?
You are about to remind him of how grateful you are that the most punishing combat he has become embroiled in recently is with Grogu when he seems more intent on eating frogs than his vegetables when Din’s husky voice breaks the silence.
“You know, I would take all of those injuries again in a heartbeat if I knew it was you and Grogu that my life was leading me to,” Din whispers.
He has shared many touching words with you this evening, but this one may have finally rendered you entirely speechless. You push yourself up on his chest, able to make out the faint silhouette of his face even in the darkness.
In the time since your first meeting, you have discovered that the Mandalorian warrior who once struck fear into your heart has a surprisingly soft side. Still, Din’s sentimentality does not stun you any less each time you are privileged to glimpse it.
You lean down to capture his lips with yours, hoping to convey with the gesture what you cannot with words. You are just glad that he does not have to choose.
Din is no longer battered and bruised. Instead, he shares a peaceful, happy life with Grogu and you.