7.
Mando ignored the sounds coming from the main bay as long as he could. He'd already let his emotions get the best of him with the Jawas and then again when he touched her. The clanging and knocking was making his temples throb in the confines of his helmet . This ship was his sanctuary; it was supposed to be calm, quiet and empty. He had never had another person on his ship as long as the woman, at least not one that was free to walk around and do what she pleased. Which apparently right now was to make as much noise as possible.
He slid down the ladder and found the main bay empty. He knocked on the refresher door calling, "Eira?" No answer. Her sleep pod was empty also. He found his box of tools laying in the middle of the floor, wrenches and screwdrivers scattered everywhere. Which was not where they belonged. A metallic clatter rang through the ship over his head and he looked up. Someone had removed one of the panels exposing the crawlspace to the inner core of the ship.
Not someone.
"Eira!" he called more forcefully this time.
BANG.
Then a hollow thud followed by a loud "-Gods be damned!!-" then shuffling and something sliding over the metal grates above him. "What?" Eira's head popped out of the open hatch looking down at him, her silver hair piled in a messy knot on her head and a smear of grease on her pale face.
"I told you not to touch anything." He said each word slowly as if she might not have completely understood the first two times he'd given the instructions.
Eira blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. "I'm not touching. I'm fixing." She said before shuffling back into the crawlspace.
"Fixing what?" He was suddenly concerned about the Stormtroopers and their blasters. The blasters had seemed like standard Imperial issue, nothing strong enough to puncture the Crest's hull. But…"Fixing what?" Mando repeated louder, looking around trying to figure out how she had climbed into the hatch in the first place. The hatch was nearly a foot above his head and she was several inches shorter than him. The tipped over crate of tools. His tools. Now thrown haphazardly across the floor. He sighed as he righted the crate and cautiously stepped on it, not entirely sure it would hold the added weight of his Beskar. The metal crate creaked suspiciously but held.
"Son of a bantha just fucking turn." She grunted trying to contort her arms in the tight space to force the stuck gear to move.
"What are you doing to my ship?" He growled warningly. She had disconnected tubes and wires going to who-knew-what hanging down around her like feather-fern vines.
"Your ...ship…has..." She let out another grunt as the gear started to give,"...no...fucking...hot...water. Ah there it is. Good girl…" The gear gave and Eira started disconnecting and reconnecting wires and tubes. Her hands flying like she had done this sort of thing a thousand times and could do it a thousand more with her eyes closed.
"I didn't ask you to fix anything." He muttered.
She turned around in the small crawl space and shuffled towards him, "You didn't have to, Mando. But maybe you'd loosen up a bit with a hot shower. I know I will." He sighed and she smiled. "Since you're here, make yourself useful and hand me a 3/8th circuit variplier."
He stepped off the crate looking down at the scattered tools. "A ...what?" He mumbled.
He picked up a tool and showed it to her. "No. Not that one." She admonished. He picked up a few more and she grew increasingly frustrated. "No...Maker grant me serenity. Can you even see in that bucket?" She climbed out of the hatch landing deftly on her feet and brushed past him. She found the tool she requested. "You know if you're going to own something that belongs in the Galactic Ship Museum you should at least know how to keep it in working order."
"The Crest's never had hot showers." He replied defensively. "What's it matter?"
She tilted her and let out a long breath, "It matters Mando, because there are three great pleasures in this shit existence we call life."
He crossed his arms over the armour on his chest. "And what are those?"
"Good food, good sex and hot showers," she said holding up three fingers. "And since that replicator is being a real bitch, number one is out"- she lowered the first finger- " and I didn't pack my ultrasonic saw to get you out of all that armor" -she lowered the second finger- "Hot showers' gonna have to do" -she lowered the last finger and tapped the variplier on his chest before stepping around him. Eira tucked the tool into her pocket and climbed onto the toolbox preparing to jump back into the hatch. "You know it's ok to have a sense of humor. Even if you are a Mandalorian."
Before she could launch herself up, this time hopefully not falling on her ass like the first three times she had attempted it, someone wrapped their hands around her hips.
Not someone.
Mando.
"It has a zipper." His modulated voice whispered into her ear. She hadn't even heard him move and all of a sudden he was there. His voice held something heavy, some hint of emotion. Something dark and hungry held in check by the Beskar he wore.
"Wh-what?" She stuttered looking over her shoulder at him. A thin strip of tan skin was just visible where his helmet ended and the neck of his jumpsuit began. He smelled like the bar of soap in the shower; like a forest after it rains with a bit of blaster oil thrown in for good measure.
His hands tightened around her waist and he lifted her towards the hatch. "My flight suit has a zipper; doesn't need an ultrasonic saw."
Her breath caught. Was that a joke? Was he joking? The cold, armor clad Bounty Hunter didn't have a sense of humor. Did he? Unless it wasn't a joke. Eira thoughts skipped a beat trying to catch up with his leather-gloved hands on her hips. "Good to know," She murmured, once her brain reconnected with her mouth, hooking her hands on the edge of the hatch to pull herself back into the crawlspace and finish the repairs. Mando dropped his hands once he was sure she would not fall.
"Put my tools back where you found them," he ordered. "And close the hatch when you're done."
The grates over head clanged as she crawled back to where she was working. "Roger, Roger!" Her voice echoed back.
Mando let out a deep breath. What the hell am I doing? He thought to himself retreating back to the cockpit and locking the hatch after him. He dropped his helmet on the floor at his feet where it landed with a hollow thud and closed his eyes taking in a deep, calming breath. Attempting once again to ignore the clangs of Eira's repair. The repairs that she assured would lead to a hot shower. A hot shower that she would use to wash the blood and smoke and grease off her body. A hot shower that could fit both of them if he positioned her body just the right way, her naked chest pressed against the tile, face turned so she could not see him. He sank to his knees, placing his hands on his thighs. He decided he needed to meditate. "Strength is life, for the strong have the right to rule-" He quietly intoned the creed drilled into him since he was a Foundling.
The woman was a job. Nothing more than a momentary disturbance until the next job. "Honor is life, for with no honor one may as well be dead." He said with more frustration than serenity.
A disturbance that had blown up an AT-AT, sped back to his ship with her pale face flushed from battle and covered in someone else's blood. He felt the void inside him growl with yearning. He took a deep breath willing the growing distraction between his legs to go away. He wanted her off his ship and out of his life. He continued reciting his creed willing himself to believe the lies.
He should have followed Karga's advice on Navarro and found a woman to warm his bed. Even for just a night. It had been what? Weeks? Months? Since that Twi'lek woman on Kaller. Mando had not cared if she'd enjoyed herself as much as she very loudly professed to or just enjoyed the credits he had paid her. Either way, she was warm and wet and let him lose himself to the oblivion between her legs. That's all he needed; just a few moments of warmth and the touch of another person to make the void quiet again. To get his mind off of her and back on the job, back on the Beskar that would mean so much to the Tribe.
By the time he finished reciting his code the clanging had ended. He stood slowly feeling more in control of himself and replaced his helmet. The main bay was blissfully quiet, his tools no longer scattered and the core hatch replaced. So she could follow directions when she wanted to. The refresher door slid open with a hiss. Eira drifted out of a humid cloud of steam wearing nothing but his towel. "Shit...Mando sorry I thought you were still up top...just let me grab my clothes and I'll toss your towel in the sonic." Mando stood still, only his helmet moving as his eyes followed her. Her silver hair hung in damp waves down her back leaving drops of water on the floor as she hurried towards her sleep pod."The hot water is glorious by the way. Nice piece of repair work if I do say so myself." She said over her shoulder as she dumped her satchel out on her thin mattress and retrieved a set of clean panties and a new tunic. "You should probably take the Bekar off before you try it though. I wouldn't want you to rust."
"Beskar doesn't rust," he replied tightly.
She stopped midway through shimming her panties on under the towel and looked up at him through strands of wet hair. "Good to know." The panties disappeared under the towel and Eira straightened up, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.
"That looks like a plasma blast." A starburst of knotted scar tissue on her chest caught his attention.
She glanced down to the rough patch of skin near her left shoulder before turning away from him and dropping the towel to her feet in the process. "That's exactly what it was". Eira said clutching the new tunic to her chest. She heard him this time, moving across the room towards her. The soft swish of his cape, the clink of his blaster on his steel thigh plate. Then the feel of his leather gloves brushing her hair aside and tracing the bumps and ridges of the twin mark on her back.
"Went all the way through," he murmured.
She held the tunic closer to her chest and closed her eyes. She could pretend, if only for a moment he was someone else. "You're lucky to be alive." He rested his hand on her shoulder. Only the leather of his glove keeping him from actually touching her. He could feel the heat of her body through it, feel the way she shivered under his touch, and the way her shoulders shook when she let out a low sarcastic laugh. She opened her eyes and shook her head. The moment was over. Reality was crashing back around her. He stepped back, dropping his hand away as she pulled the grey tunic over her head.
"You know, I've never seen it that way," Eira said bitterly. She turned around and looked up into the dark glass of his visor. All she saw there was her own reflection: damp hair, pale face, and grey eyes. She raised her hands toward his helmet. He grabbed her wrists. Not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to make the corners of her lips twitch and eyebrows raise in surprise. Mando released her and she placed both hands on the cool metal of his helmet, running her thumbs along the angled edges, "Guess it's all a matter of perspective."
His hands found their way back to her hips, ghosting under the tunic to massage the soft curves. "I happen to like my perspective, " he said tilting his helmet down. She followed his visors line of sight to the swell of her breasts under her tunic.
She laughed, lite and airy. "So there is a sense of humor under there." Something between them had drastically changed she realized. They just met, barely knew each other. A day ago he had told her he couldn't even stand her voice. Now he was touching her, using his grip on her hips to urge her back until she bumped into the wall behind them.
"There's a lot under here, " he said quietly. "I won't show you all of it but…"
She felt his thumbs trace the band of her underwear. "I'm not going to put that blinder back on...Ever." She told him.
He stepped closer, the blaster on his hip digging into her stomach. "I can figure something else out."
This was not a good idea she thought suddenly. She didn't know enough about him, actually she knew nothing about him. Except that he was devout in his beliefs and that could be dangerous. She needed to get her focus on Dodoma and not her attraction to the Mandalorian. The cold armor, the practiced stoicism, and the quiet strength was familiar and comforting. But it wasn't him. It would never be him. "Mando, we shouldn't- " she sighed, taking his hands off her hips. She needed to stop this before it went too far. "I don't think we should-"
His wrist com beeped and he pulled away from her. "We're landing on Tatooine." He said typing in commands to the ship. "I need fuel."
Whatever magnetism that had been pulling them together was gone. Mando took another step back and stared at her silently. "Maker I hate Tatooine...dirty, hot, smells like Bantha shit." Eira crossed her arms aware of how cold the ship was without him pressed into her. "I guess...I should get dressed, " she murmured stepping towards the clothes piled on her mattress. Mando was already gone when she turned back.