"I wondered if you'd come back."
I paused at the doorway with a half-chewed mouthful of food in my cheek, nonplussed and trying to hide it. I'd left him in the cockpit checking the course, fully expecting to get the pretty small bed to myself for a few hours.
Apparently he did spend a good portion of the longer journeys sleeping.
"If you do something I don't like, I might not." I finished the mouthful, then took another bite, wishing for something like hopika right about now. The nearly-frozen drink was best served with youngling porg meat, but I wasn't picky past wanting something I'd commonly found at home.
Swallowing again, I wondered when race cuisine had popped back into my cravings, then realized it was as soon as I'd tasted the first ration bar. Not that he didn't have a wide selection of foods, but you could only keep so much of the texture of a meal and still preserve it for a trip.
I.E., meat and jelly both felt about the same texture-wise.
"What don't you like?" he asked, head cocked down against his chest. He sounded halfway to sleep, though propped on the bed in a way that'd make anyone's back ache.
"Other Chiss, for one." I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn't see, but I could see him, and when he tilted his head up to look, I realized his eyes weren't as dark as I'd first thought, but pretending they were black was best, because knowing a nuance about him was way too intimate. "People like you, but the ones who have no guidelines."
He didn't reply, and in the silence I ate the rest of the ration, waiting for him to do something.
"What don't you like?" I shot back, propping myself against the doorframe. I wasn't about to crawl into bed with him awake, which was a stupid boundary to have and now useless considering what I'd helped him do hours ago, but regardless it remained.
"Needless questions, for one."
"No question's ever needless. It might be stupid to you, but to someone else, it's the most important thing on their brain." I ignored the gurgle of my stomach against the unfamiliar food. "I think you're just picky."
He cocked his head at that. I doubted a Mandalorian heard backtalk on a regular basis, let alone from a stranger they'd recently married. Another situation I doubted Mandalorians found themselves in often, let alone ever.
What was normal about our coupling, after all? It was looking like nothing.
"Are you…" he began, tentative, "insulting me?"
"I might, might be implying you're cocky." I swallowed against that last word. Suddenly it was off-limits for describing arrogance. "I mean, like stuck up."
That was treading dangerous ground, but he didn't say much of anything, just watched me as I twisted the ration wrapper into an unrecognisable lump of material, wondering how the Force much longer the trip was. Not that I'd leave when it ended, but being alone with a near-stranger was...odd. I'd never been in such a situation before, and honestly, the tension would have been sexual if he wasn't so obviously conservative.
The longer I looked at him, the more ideas started running through my head. I thought of all the ways anybody else would have me pinned against the wall, forcing an apology out of me with every thrust of their dick.
But not Mando. He wouldn't say a word, and it was driving me crazier than the best dick in the galaxy.