Cara hadn't been expecting it.
Not in a million years had she expected the Armorer to come to her, and with the backing of the entire Covert invite her into the tribe.
Well, almost the entire covert.
There was one particular Mandalorian who didn't seem especially fond of the idea. He never put words to his opinion, but... Cara could tell.
Din hadn't been himself since hearing of the offer. He'd gone back and forth between being completely silent and abnormally talkative, sometimes switching between them so quickly it gave her whiplash. He was much more irritable and critical than usual and not just to Cara, but in general. For example, even now as she continued to ponder his strange behavior, he was mumbling to himself about the annoyances of being a Mandalorian, stating the numerous downsides, how they seemed to outweigh the upsides at times...
"Do you wish you weren't Mandalorian?"
Din jumped at the question, almost as though he'd forgotten she was around.
"No, of course not."
"Then why are you trying so hard to talk me out of it?"
"I-I'm not. It's just, it's a hard path to take. We are both hunter and prey, have to live in the sewers, which stinks, both literally and metaphorically..." Din raddled off reason after reason, most of which she'd already considered or he'd already told her about, talking in circles around the issue until Cara gave up paying attention and went back to cleaning her rifle and tuning him out.
Clearly they weren't going to get anywhere this time.
"Is it that you don't think I'm worthy of it?" Cara asked.
"What?" Din panted beneath her, trying to wriggle out of the arm bar she had him in. Din may have her in weapons sparring, but in unarmed... She owned him.
"It's got to be that. That's the only explanation." She determined. "You don't think I'm good enough to be a Mandalorian. Clearly, it's not a matter of prowess."
Din growled in annoyance as she easily flipped the both of them to the side, locking a leg around him, rendering all usual avenues of escape futile.
"Yield."
"No."
Cara slowly increased the pressure on his shoulder, only stopping when she felt him twitch with pain. She didn't release him, just held him there and waited for him to figure out what to do next.
"So if it's not combat efficacy, then it's what? Loyalty? Trust?"
"Of course not." Din managed to wrench his wrist from her grip with sheer willpower. "I trust you with my life."
"Ah, so you admit you don't think I'm worthy!"
"I never said that." Din quickly managed to apply a lock of his own on her wrist, forcing her away from him, loosening her grip on his legs. She responded by squeezing her thighs in tighter, trying to regain control.
"But you implied it."
Cara switched her focus, knocking her head forward against his to distract him while she released his legs, rolled him on top of her and getting her free arm around his neck in a headlock. Now she was seated with his head in her lap, her legs curled tightly around his ribs, feet working at the top of his thighs to hold his legs down and keep him from kicking at her.
"I didn't."
"What's left then? Honor?" she asked, tightening the headlock until his arms came involuntarily to his neck to free himself. "You think I'll what? Turn into a kriffin' demagolka? Start blowing innocents up when I get bored?"
All she got was a strangled grunt in reply, which she supposed she ought to have been expecting, considering she'd done a good job of cutting off his air supply.
"Yield."
Another strangled grunt, but clearly a negative.
"Yield, or we'll stay here until you do."
He kept squirming, tried turning his neck to the corner of her elbow, but she expected it and squeezed tighter. He'd tried that little trick before. It had gotten her exactly once and never again. He tried it every time anyway.
It was strange, usually he'd have admitted to failure by now. He never was one to be upset by losing to her. Now, however, it seems he was determined to escape. Didn't do him much good though. Cara knew there was no way he was getting out.
She watched as his struggles started to weaken, lack of oxygen beginning to catch up with him. But he kept fighting.
"Kriff, Din," she muttered, "just say yield."
He gave a sharp shake of his head, as much as his position would allow. He renewed his efforts with a small burst of energy that left almost as soon as it came. His limbs slowed and lost coordination before her eyes, but she didn't let up. The rules they'd negotiated prior to sparring meant that they had to keep going until the losing side either escaped or yielded.
All he was doing now was weakly tugging at her arms, it seemed any higher thought process was gone. She felt his neck straining beneath her, chin tilted up and away from her.
Why was he being such a shebs about all this Mando stuff? What did he have against her joining and why wouldn't he karking tell her what the problem was? She knew he respected her, both as a warrior and as a friend. Maker, every word he said and move he made prior to this visit to the covert had screamed it. She knew why he wasn't telling her the real problem he had with it. He wanted her to make the decision on her own, wanted her to make her own choice without his influencing it. Even as he told her all the downsides, he knew they weren't anything she hadn't considered. No, the Armorer had been very honest with her when discussing what her becoming Mando'ade would entail.
It was then Cara noticed that Din had gone still sometime while she'd been in thought, and had been for an indeterminate amount of time.
"Din?"
Nothing.
"Kriff."
Upon the realization that he was out and down for the count, Cara immediately released him. There was no cough or inhale. Her heart hammered in her chest. Kark, she hadn't meant to let it get this far. She should have released him sooner, should have yielded for him, given him no choice in the matter.
Cara quickly turned his head left and right, observing for any signs she'd crushed his windpipe. She didn't think she had, but then again, she hadn't thought he'd let her choke him unconscious either.
His throat was intact.
Alright, she just had to press the reset button. That's all. She'd done that with bounties more than enough when they'd forgotten how to breathe after coming out of carbonite. It was the same principle, right.
She pried off his chest plate and swiftly ran the ridge of her knuckles along his sternum, which yielded a sudden inhale. Thank the Manda.
Then Din moved.
Next thing Cara knew, her back was pressed to the ground, blaster jammed against her chest, Din still choking and gasping above her.
"Din! It's just me! It's Cara!" She saw when recognition entered his posture, finger dropping from the trigger. "We were sparring, I had you in a headlock. You never yielded, and I didn't realize that I'd kept you there until you couldn't. I'm sorry."
He dropped the blaster, breathing raggedly, before moving to get off her. Upon rising, he staggered, dizziness striking him hard and fast, sending him down to hands and knees.
"Woah, let's just- let's just be still for a second, alright?" Cara guided him to a sitting position before gently pushing against his chest, trying to get him to lie down, but he resisted. "You're okay, Din, you're safe. Just breathe."
Slowly, his frantic gasps whittled back to normal, though still overly frequent, breaths.
"See-" Din rasped, breaking off in a cough. Cara winced at his voice, shushing him.
"Shh... Don't try to talk yet. Just keep breathing." She rubbed his arms up and down in a calming manner. Though whether it was him or herself she was calming would be a point of later debate.
She gently pulled his glove off; she was displeased by the sight that met her.
"Your fingertips are still blue." Cara frowned. "But you're breathing better. You still dizzy? Lightheaded?"
No answer.
"Din?"
"- Y'said not to talk." he mumbled.
"You still have to answer me, di'kut. You just don't get to talk extra." Cara said, "Now answer the question. Are you still feeling lightheaded?"
" A little..."
"You should rest for a while longer then." Cara started rubbing his arms again, and Din melted into the touch.
A humming sound came from deep in his throat, sliding into quiet, broken, and clearly still painful speech. "Wasn't planning on moving."
"Stop talking."
The stayed there for awhile, Cara taking comfort in Din's even, deep breaths, guilt swelling as she watched some light bruising slowly develop, just visible in the space between his helm and kute. Her fingers gently traced along the red and purple lacing across the olive skin of his bared throat. She withdrew her hand in surprise upon feeling the hum in her fingertips, this time, rather than hearing it.
"I told you I trust you." The words were still raw, scraping along his throat as they rolled from his tongue, but they weren't halting now. That was good.
"What do you mean?"
"I trust you."
There were a few moments while Cara tried to link this back to their earlier conversation, before she accidentally choked him out.
Then it clicked.
Cara boiled.
"You let me do that to you to prove a kriffin' point!?"
"You-" Din's breath caught and he coughed, taking time to regain his breath before he continued. "You didn't believe me."
"You're a karking dinii! I swear to Manda, Din, someday I'm actually going to kill you and you better pray it's on accident-"
Din gently pressed an ungloved finger to her lips, silencing her, before covering her hand on his arm with his own.
"I trust you." He repeated.
Slowly, Din slid their hands up along his body until he reached his chest. He lifted his chin, tilting it ever so slightly to the side so that he could meet her eyes. In contrast to Cara's, his breaths were steady as he pressed her hand firmly against his neck. He never once flinched, never even lost sight of her eyes as her thumb slid out in a smooth caress, settling opposite to her fingers which lined the delicate ribs of his throat. She felt the subtle expansion and contraction of his lungs as he breathed.
"I trust you." Tiny quivers danced through the tiny bones as he spoke. It took her a moment to find her own words.
"I believe you."
And what a sacred trust that was.
Din seemed to calm a bit, after that discussion. He still prickled when Armorer spoke of measuring for Cara's armor, still bristled when the foundlings asked if she would be joining them for the creed ceremony, or if she had to do it separate since she was an adult.
Cara just didn't get it.
What was it about her joining that had him tied in knots? If he cared for her so much, trusted her so much, then he should be happy she was finally allowed to take part in his culture. She was allowed to participate rather than just observe. Allowed to explicitly study the Way of the Mandalore rather than just scrape at the bits she gathered from being around him and the covert when they visited.
This was a good thing. Why couldn't he get it through his thick head? Cara was happy - Didn't he want her to be happy?
One more time.
She was going to ask one more time, and if he didn't tell her then, well, he was just going to have to get over it on his own.
Decision made, she elected to corner him in his enclave after last meal. Cara hoped the privacy may make him more forthcoming.
"So if it's not that you regret being Mandalorian, and if it's not that you don't think me worthy-"
"Not this again..." Din sounded about as whiny as she'd ever heard him, palms flying to his helm as though he wished to rub his face but couldn't. This only added to his strange behavior as of late. Din Djarin was not a man who whined.
The arms swung out in exasperation as he turned his back to her, staring angerly at the corner of the room.
"Kriff, Cara!" He cursed, "Just karking join already! Manda knows you want it bad enough, what I have to say on it is clearly irrelevant!"
"No, it's not." Cara sighed, "Look at me."
He kept staring at the corner.
"Din," her voice was low, a warning to comply.
He sighed again, but did as she had asked, arms crossed defensively in front of him.
"What you think is not irrelevant to me," Cara pulled his wrist from his side, her thumb seeking out the small bit of skin hidden between his kute and glove. "That's why I'm asking. I can't read your mind."
Din jerked away from her, helm again moving to the corner, unable to keep her eyes.
Cara groaned in frustration. "Look, if you can't give me a straight answer, then I'm just going to keep talking until I hit on something, alright?"
No answer. Okay. That's fine. It's all fine.
"You told me you don't regret being a Mandalorian, so that's not the problem. You agree that I'm worthy of it, so that isn't it. You know I'm excited about it, so it can't be that you think I wouldn't like it or that it wouldn't be a good fit." Cara cycled through the list of things she'd learned in previous conversations before running up empty.
"The only left that I can think of is that you think I'd get sick of wearing the bucket." Cara said, "So... what? Do you think I'd just chuck it off when it got a little uncomfortable?"
"No, of course not." Din sounded appalled by the idea, "You would wear it with honor, that's the problem."
It was the first thing he'd even gone so far as to outright admit he didn't like the idea, so that was progress at least.
"I don't understand, how's that an issue?"
"Because-"
"I'm afraid need a little more to go on, Bud."
"It's just-" His voice was still a bit rough, Cara noticed. Even after nearly an entire day and a little bacta, she could still see that it pained him to talk. Cara pulled herself out of her guilt and back to Din. He was just starting to talk now, kriff, she needed to stay focused.
Din cleared his throat. "When you swear to the creed, you'll get armor."
Cara nodded, eyebrows coming together in confusion as she tried to piece out where he was going with this.
"And then you'll wear the armor."
"I know how it works, Din."
Din sighed, hand again sliding down the front of his buy'ce in an aggravated fashion.
"But when you put it on, you don't get to take it off."
Cara still had genuinely no clue what he was digging at. It wasn't like him to beat around the brush.
"That includes the helmet." Din turned to face her again, hands going to her shoulders,
Cautiously, she nodded.
"No one will ever see you again."
"That's how it works, you know that." Cara smiled reassuringly, "I've made my peace with it already."
"But-" Din cut himself off.
"But what, Din?" Cara said softly.
"But I'll never-" his voice broke, gaze flicking away again, even as Cara tried to real it back in, placing a callused hand against the cool beskar of his helm.
The dam broke.
"I'll never see you again."
Oh.
He didn't give Cara time to respond, instead the words poured out of him with an intensity and an urgency she'd never seen in him.
"I'll never see your smile, your laugh, see the way you look at Grogu when he's in your arms-"
Cara listened.
"- see your little smirk when you pin me, your squint as you maintain your rifle -"
It went on for longer than she had anticipated. She held on to ever word.
" - the way your eyes burn as you cuff a bounty -"
And then he was done, eyes shooting away with the same urgency that they'd met with earlier.
"So that's what's been bothering you." She nodded.
He didn't say anything to begin with, but Cara chose to let the silence hang. Chose to let him be the one to break it.
"I told you it was stupid, selfish." His voice was quiet, dripping with shame and and a hint of embarrassment.
"Din?"
His visor drew back to meet Cara's eyes questioningly.
"If I understood right," she began, hand moving to fiddle with the clasp of his cloak, "the Armorer says there's something we can do about that."
A/N: So what we have here, ladies and gents, and everyone between and beyond, is three thousand words of fluff with a healthy scoop of both angst and discord, a pinch of whump, and just a smidge of an impromptu proposal.
Please let me know if you'd be interested in reading this from Din's POV, or perhaps seeing an epilogue.
I'd love to hear from you all.
Translations:
demagolka = monster, word coined after a mad scientist type child-abuser
shebs = butt
di'kut = idiot
dinii = lunatic