Spoils of War
Episode XIII: The Wedding
Jubilant shouts filled the normally quiet sewers: "Voska mii! Voska mii!"
Amid the rapidly unfolding celebration, Tala eyed the ceiling in brief old worry that came from her time on Vorus when she'd trained in secret and always had to take care to be quiet. But in the covert, the foundations and earth above would prevent sounds from making it to the upper world—that, and the Mandalorians occupied an area that wasn't directly underneath the city. Still, six of the older Tribe members including the Armorer had elected to stay sober and serve as entryway guardians and childminders for the evening of Heijj and Jara's wedding. Everyone else? Already celebrating hard.
Special foods had been prepared and eaten in private before everyone met in the common areas—which is when Tala had arrived, just moments before Heijj and Jara appeared with hands held high in union. Most Mandalorians married privately between themselves, which is what Heijj and Jara chose. The Tribe met the newlyweds with a joyful uproar Tala had never heard the likes of before—clapping, cheering bellows, pounding of armor. It was infectious, it was primal, and Tala was soon in quite the good mood. It might have had something to do with the drink in her hand.
On the edge of the gathering where she could observe best, she sipped faintly at her grail full of tihaar. It wascut with spiced fruit juice. Tihaar wasa Mandalorian spirit fermented on site and saved for special occasions like this one. The grails the Tribe members drank out of were customized—forged by the Armorer—made with a built-in sipping apparatus that could slip under helmets. The drink was strong and Tala was already feeling tipsy after only consuming a third of it. This was going to be a long, blurred night.
Paz shambled over and toasted her hard, sloshing some of her drink out in the process. "More, vaar'ika!" he encouraged, refilling her cup from his flask with straight tihaar after calling her pipsqueak in Mando'a. She protested feebly. "More for you too!" he shouted, pouring into Din's grail—who'd just appeared from nowhere. Paz's pour missed and splashed to the ground when Din moved his grail out of the way on purpose. "Depravity!" Paz exclaimed in an absurdly good-humored shout. "To spill even a drop of this glorious elixir!"
Din shook his head and sighed, but a long-suffering smile was audible in his voice. "I'll ask for more when I want it."
"Dinii," Paz snorted at him, then was off to go badger others.
Tala squinted in his retreat, eyeing her companion. "Dinii—that's the word for lunatic, isn't it?"
Din exhaled a short chuckle. "Yup. He likes to point out how the word starts with my name." He turned his helmet to her briefly, a joking effect coming into his voice. "Don't get any ideas." She shot an impish look his way. Too late.
Central in the main area Heijj called for order, vaulting up to stand on an unopened supply container while clanging his beskar sword against his chest. His new bride Jara leaped up to join him and Heijj spread his arms wide at the quieting Tribe. "Vod!" he bellowed. "The Historian has asked to speak!"
A total hush fell in respect of their eldest member, and all moved aside to let him through. The Historian was of medium, hunched height and he moved very slowly on arthritic joints. He didn't make appearances much anymore. Surely his armor hid a frail body. He stood in place beneath the couple, turning with tiny movements to look at his audience while taking his time to gather his thoughts. Slow as sap, he turned his old helmet left and right. "Ah, my soul," he finally rasped, the weak old voice still commanding power. "I have grown weary in the years we've spent in this place. But today gives me a strength I didn't know this old body could feel. Today brings my focus to the brightness of our future, and the glory of our survival. Young ones, listen closely. You will lead us into new life. You will carry our Way forward. We will see the sunlight again! And tonight is for celebration! May we always remember the sacred words that bind us. The words Heijj and Jara joined their lives with. 'Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome. Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.'" He paused and drew in a withered breath. He repeated the vows, this time in Basic. "We are one when together, we are one when parted. We will share all, we will raise warriors."
Tala felt a gentle smile pull on her face. How surprisingly sweet. She looked at Din and found him already looking at her. Her smile faltered and she had to redirect her gaze forward as her breath caught in her chest. Ever since hearing him claim her as wife in front of non-Tribe members, a single question had persisted: Did he think of her as his wife because of technicality, or something else? She was wondering again now.
The Historian continued, putting strength into his ailing voice. "Our marriage vows, a continuation of our Creed: We are one when together, Mandalorians. We are one when parted! We share all. We raise warriors. And it is good! This is the Way!"
"This is the Way!" a chorus of enthusiastic replies came. Tala's eyes were sidelong on Din again.
Heijj raised his tihaar high and beside him, Jara shouted at the top of her lungs: "Tonight, we rejoice!" A mass of armored comrades swamped the couple, their armor ringing and clanging as they body slammed each other with enthusiasm.
Tala drifted back to linger at a passageway entrance at a safe but present distance where she could steadily sip her drink. Not a great idea to be armorless near a bunch of tipsy Mandalorians body slamming each other.
"What'd you think of what he said?"
Tala jumped when Din was suddenly at the opposite side of the passageway entrance an indistinct amount of time later. Then she grinned, suppressing an abrupt giggle. The alcohol was certainly affecting her. "Weeell… I thought the vows would have more in there about smashing enemies or something…"
Din chuckled, settling into a lounge with folded arms, which had quite the debonair effect thanks to the grail held casually in one of his hands. "Maybe you can suggest some additions." He watched as Tala took a bold sip of the tihaar and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder and grimace then a hiss. He chuckled approvingly at her reaction. "Strong, isn't it?"
"Whew!" She eyed the drink with quite the face—it had gotten stronger thanks to Paz's openhandedness. "That's one word for it. I think this stuff might kill me." She only drank occasionally, and typically didn't get drunk. Tonight, however was a special occasion.
"No dying tonight," he advised. "Pace yourself. And hide from Paz." He sipped at his drink. Tala snorted.
It was good advice, but she couldn't follow it because every fifteen to twenty minutes, Paz popped up out of nowhere and surprise-refilled her drink then challenged her to a fight when she protested. A couple times he just picked her up and threw her over his shoulder until she acquiesced to kicking his ass. He never seemed to tire of fighting or chaos—both thrilled him. After the third or fourth time Paz accosted her, Tala looked around for Din but he had disappeared from his previous place. After a moment of searching, she spotted him with Kal-Bruna at the edge of the rumpus. The younger children were already in bed. But the twelve-and-ups were allowed to stay just a bit longer.
Tala butted into the conversation with too much enthusiasm thanks to the booze. "What are you two talking about?!"
Kal-Bruna's helmet peered up at Din, putting the burden of answering on him. She seemed a little testy, crossing her small, thirteen-year-old arms at him. The beroya sighed. "She's been making her rounds to all the couples tonight to get ETA's," he explained somewhat sheepishly.
Estimated time of arrivals? "On what?" Tala wondered what she was missing.
"Babies," Kal-Bruna explained impatiently. "I want you to have a boy and a girl, and I'll teach them both everything, and help you take care of them too."
There was a distant twinge of sadness, but Tala didn't let herself feel it long. This was a subject Kal-Bruna had been known to harp on in the past. "Babies," she repeated thoughtfully, a doubtful smile twitching on her face as she looked at Din. "And what did beroya say when you asked him about this?"
Kal-Bruna sighed, and it was a disgusted sound. "He said not yet." She grabbed onto Tala's arm and began to beg endearingly and dramatically. "Please, pleaaaase! I want new kids to play with! I've been waiting for yeaaars!"
The poor kid was setting herself up for disappointment and it made Tala a little gloomy and uncomfortable to conceal the truth—but she always did, telling herself 'for just a little longer' to avoid sad conversations. "We'll see," she said neutrally then patted Kal-Bruna halfheartedly, trying to mask her true emotions. More tihaar would help.
Not long after, all the under-eighteens were ushered to bed. The night blurred more and more. At some point, Tala collapsed into a chair at one of the small tables just off the common area where thirty some Mandalorians carried on with no signs of stopping. She put her forehead onto the table, feeling the world spinning. She chuckled to herself, and made a soft, happy mmm sound. Sleep sounded nice. She was so tired. Her eyes fluttered closed.
"You okay there, lightweight?"
Tala let her cheek turn to the table and she cracked an eye lazily up at Din, who was never too far off tonight. "Paz won't stop refilling this thing," she muttered, gesturing at her grail slackly without moving any more muscles.
"Get rid of your grail," Din suggested as he plopped into the chair heavily across from her. Another small sign she'd noticed that he was getting drunk, too.
Hauling herself up to sit, Tala chuckled with a tired, content sigh. "He just brings me a new full one when I do that."
There was a fond, exasperated breath out. "He's unstoppable." Din was quiet for a thoughtful moment, studying the party beyond before looking at Tala again. "Thanks for humoring Kal-Bruna. She really loves you, you know."
Yes, Tala knew. "The feeling's mutual," she said, sighing wistfully. "Just sorry she'll never get those babies she's so obsessed with." Anyway. She made those thoughts leave and folded her arms, leaning back in her seat as she frowned curiously at what was happening behind Din's shoulder. The Mandalorian named Omo Lerzad began smashing empty wooden boxes on her helmet and bellowing war cries—which probably felt epic, but it made Tala suppress a laugh. "Why didn't we get one of these parties, huh?" she asked Din conspiratorially, getting a kick out of the imaginary scenario briefly.
"It's not too late for that," he said, catching her off guard. He gazed at her steadily from across the table. "Just say the word."
Tala's stomach flip-flopped around at the suggestion she was immediately discounting on the surface level and overthinking at the deeper one. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "…It is really hard to tell if you're joking right now."
She would have paid all the money in the world to see the smirk she could hear on that voice of his. "Lemme know when you figure it out."
Tala reached across the table and smacked his arm with an indignant laugh. "You ass!"
"Ah-ha!" came a shout as Paz barreled into the space and threw his arms wide at Tala in challenge. "Wrestle me or die!"
She batted him away, chuckling and exasperated. She was too tired to indulge him anymore. "Calm down, idiot."
"You fear I'll best you!" Paz cackled and slurped down more alcohol—clearly, he was trying to win the insane game of drinking the most.
"You sure that's a good idea?" Din asked skeptically, eyeing the flask in his brother's hand.
Paz snorted and grabbed Din by a shoulder. "It is not a good idea, it is a great idea!" He laughed raucously and shoved heartily. Din had to catch his balance to keep the chair from falling over. Paz raptured. "More! Until the ceiling spins!" He poured from his cup into Tala's despite her attempt to move her cup, then he disappeared as quickly as he'd come. Din's sigh was an audible eye roll, and then he chuckled when Tala poured half her drink onto the ground.
"New approach," she explained, finding it humorous too. The sound of sing-shouting began to rise in the crowd nearby and becoming interested, Tala hopped up and grabbed Din, dragging him along to see what was happening. A dancing and singing throng had begun to teem, and Jara pulled Tala into the mad dance circle despite some ineffective protests. Nearby, Din got dragged in by Paz. Shouts surrounded and the racket made everything buzz. Dizzy, elated, drunk, euphoric and in the rhythm, Tala closed her eyes, head falling back in a grin as she was jostled from all sides by enthusiasm and shereshoy—the Mandalorian word for being taken by lust for life and absolute focus on the treasure of living in the moment. This… was what freedom felt like.
In the churning mass of increasingly intoxicated Mandalorians, Din only had eyes for the one they called his wife. The music and song around him was muted and obscure as he thought back to a time before the covert had a member with a face bounded by dark hair with eyes he dreamed about sometimes. Days like this he was especially glad about the helmet so no one could see how he gazed at her so much of the night.
She was a ridiculously cute drunk. And despite his efforts to pace himself, he was starting to really get kriffed up. It didn't take long with liquor like tihaar. He'd almost talked himself into volunteering for sober duty, then had decided against it. Now, he was second guessing that choice. It had been years since he'd been more than tipsy.
Kal-Bruna's questions about babies lingered on his mind tonight of all nights, when marriage and family were close to the Mandalorian mind. He of course knew what his young friend did not—that Tala would never be able to fulfill that dream. Still. He'd dreamed once that he and Tala had been together in some wild, rugged place. Happy. Smiling at each other. With small children of their own laughing and playing nearby. He couldn't remember more details, except that it had been a good dream. And told him that he was really beginning to go some treacherous places mentally. The tihaar wasn't helping, either.
The night continued to progress, and as it did, Din could think less and less clearly. At some point, he and Tala found themselves in alcove adjacent to the party again, both having trouble hanging in.
"I'm sooo tired," Tala complained breathlessly, pressing a hand to her perspiring forehead drunkenly as they stood there and took a break from the ruckus.
Din related—he'd forgotten how tired being drunk made him feel after the initial buzz and rush. "Kot," he encouraged—meaning, strength. Of which he needed some too, he realized. "I gotta sit down. This tihaar is stronger than I remember."
"In that crase, kot to you, my good vod," she teased.
Din squinted at her, a smile hovering as he made no moves to sit down anywhere. "…Did you just say 'crase'?"
Tala looked at the grail in her hand and primly set it down onto a nearby table. "Time to hit pause," she declared.
Din shook his head and gestured wearily behind her. "Look out, Paz is about to attack you again."
Tala turned and lurched to keep balance—Paz was racing up and laughing maniacally—he really was bizarre when drunk. Tala dodged and tried to catch herself but fell sidelong with a surprised sound and a laugh. Paz overshot his attack and ran headlong into a stack of crates in an epic crash. Shaking his head, Din reached down a hand and helped Tala up. He barely concealed a slight stumble when his balance pitched.
"Ah, failure!" Paz panted on the floor. "What, not gonna help me up too?" he joked at Din. Tala went over and offered her hand then then let go when Paz yanked himself up halfway. He tumbled back down with an indignant yelling laugh sound as he somehow crashed into another crate. Tala laughed so hard that she doubled over. After Paz got up by pushing up off all fours he scrubbed her hair hard, making it frizz before he pointed at her and chuckled. "Next time, vaar'ika!" he promised, then returned to the main hall.
"Sometimes, I think he likes you a little too much," Din said, then realized he'd shared that stupid thought out loud. Kriff.
"Oh?" Tala asked, patting down her hair clumsily. She seemed to like his confession. "Jealous?"
"Pff."
"He knows who I belong to," Tala dismissed offhandedly, waving the idea away.
"… Belong to?" Din echoed, finding it intensely surprising she'd say it that way, since that was the very thing she always resisted. Also. He kind of liked that statement—a lot—as much as he didn't think he should.
"You know what I mean!" she said, but she was embarrassed and tried to cover it over with a show. "Now come on, let's have a wrestle."
Not what he'd expected her to say. "A wrestle?" They were both getting a little too dumb for their own good. "I think we better cut you off," he joked, but Tala squared up and gave him a frisky smirk and 'come here' motion as she hit a fighter's stance… then almost fell over. She laughed, waiting for him to engage. Din studied her for a long moment, him mind cloyed and blunt. Maybe a wrestle would be fun. He wouldn't mind being a little closer to her…
Din committed to this tasty idea and pretended he wasn't going to engage. He made like he was about to simply walk past her and return to the party—but at the last second as she gave a disappointed throw of the hands at his perceived refusal, he charged her sidelong and she shrieked, thrown over his shoulder easily. She scream-laughed upside down. "Whatcha gonna do now, huh?" Din asked, panting and grinning from the sudden exertion.
She chortled and pinched his butt—hard—and he yelped because again, he had not expected that. She cackled and escaped his grip thanks to him dropping her in surprise. She was already charging his waist and they went down in a heap. Din heard himself laughing at the absurdity of it as they ended up grappling and rolling around on the floor spiritedly before he gained dominance and braced on all fours above her. Pinning her with his legs squeezing hers and hands holding her wrists either side of her head, it was a hold yes—but not the best one. Din waited for her to easily break it, but she just stayed there looking up at him with a dreamy, drunk smile. Her chest heaved, her dark hair spilled around her head like a halo, and she open-mouth breathed with rosy cheeks. "What, Nevarro's hand combat champion's outta ideas?" he teased, drinking in the sight of her like that.
The pause she took made him pause too. Her eyes crawled the length of his helmet in a way they never had before. When she spoke, her soft voice bordered on suggestive. "No… I have a few."
Immediately, Din's body stiffened with a powerful flush of surprise and intense desire. Holy kriff, he couldn't believe she'd just said that. Surely he'd misinterpreted it. Right? A loud shout and a breaking glass object called their attention to Paz and Sy'roc, who were in absolute mania just beyond the alcove—they'd snapped a sparring staff in half and were whacking each other repeatedly while hooting laughter hysterically and trading shouted insults at the top of their lungs.
Din and Tala looked at each other again, and it was no longer amusing and fun—now it was awkward. Din climbed off and let her get up by herself. A brief, uncertain look was traded when they were both standing, then Tala scuttled off leaving Din to brood and nurse his drink. After about ten minutes and no sightings of Tala, he stumbled off to go look for her. His faculties were warm, buzzing, vague, and imprecise. He'd lost count of how much he'd had, but he knew it was more than enough. No more. He was cutting himself off for the night.
He finally located her as he was beginning to worry. He found her On the way to the residential hall and then up a deserted tunnel—he supposed she got lost. She sat against a wall, slumped with eyes closed and head sagging onto a shoulder under a very dim ceiling light. Immediately alarmed, Din hurried over and dropped to a knee. "Hey, wake up!" He shook her shoulder and patted her face. She stirred. "You okay?"
A pleasant haze was on her confused, drowsy face, then she grinned when she recognized him. "Aww, hi Din," she greeted in pleasant surprise, then her expression took a turn for dazed. "Ugh. I am so durnk—ex, excuse me, drunk." She shook her head and laughed weakly. "Everything's spinning."
"Yup." He pivoted and plopped right next to her, hard. "Same. Try and hold still a minute." For a moment, all was quiet. The din of the party was barely audible here—a low buzz in the background. A steady drip-drip somewhere nearby echoed. Din's mind wandered. In a minute, he'd muster the energy to get up then haul her up and put her in his bed. He'd sleep on the floor or something and they'd wake up with the hangover of a lifetime no doubt. Despite feeling plastered, he was happy. Content to just sit here awhile with his favorite person on this momentous night. "You know what I hate?" he reflected after a minute, venting because work lately had been exhausting and he hadn't gotten to grumble about it to her yet. "Bounties who run. The last fifteen idiots I've sacked all ran. Mother kriffers."
Tala played false indignant, but she looked like she was about to laugh. "Hey, I ran!"
Very true. Din shook his head, laughing tiredly with his head rolling back. "Yeah, and I hated it." But now? He looked back and recognized the remarkable strength he'd grown to know all about over the past four-ish years. Even if he'd hated it, he had respected her grit.
Tala looked at him affectionately, and being drunk, it made her look a lot less guarded than usual. "…I've never heard you laugh like that before." Din blinked. He had laughed. She pointed at him and slurred a bit. "We should get you drunk more often."
He shook his head, a stupid smile plastered across his content face. "I don't think so. I'm like Paz. I get in trouble if I don't watch it."
Tala chortled, grinning with pink cheeks. "Well you don't seem to be watching it tonight, young man."
He gestured his hands with sloppy defense. "Gotta respect tradition!"
Tala held up a finger. "Speaking of." She dramatically produced a familiar looking object, impressing Din quite a bit. "Faz's plask." She heard herself, made a face, stifled a laugh, and tried again. "Paz's… flask." With an embarrassed and amused sighing chuckle she shook her head at herself and looked skyward, the back of her head touching the wall as she did so. Din stared at the light softly illuminating her neck, the soft smile, the heavy-lidded eyes that soon looked his way when her chin dropped back down. Those eyes began to look at his helmet so intently he thought maybe she was going to reach out and touch it.
Din couldn't stop staring at her. He'd always known she was beautiful. From the first time he saw her bounty puck, it was kind of hard to miss. That face—either looking at him softly, or laughing with dimples cutting her cheeks, or hard with the intense focus she got when she was learning or working or fighting—was something he swore he could look at all day without tiring of. Every last thing she did was absurdly attractive, and tonight he was letting himself think the thoughts he usually didn't allow himself to touch.
There were reasons he kept a distance from certain feelings and never pursued her in the way he wished he could. Fear. Fear that she would reject him. Fear that he would scare her away. Fear that he wouldn't be able to keep the Creed should he fall into her arms. Fear that they would realize this relationship was doomed from the start because of conflicting life paths. So to him, it was far better to have her in his life at arm's length as things were, than to possess her briefly and afterward lose her. His steadfast Tala, who asked about how he was and knew his preferences and always respected his choices while challenging him boldly when she disagreed—who looked out for his needs without being asked. The fear he felt at his sentiments was intense.
So was the understanding he'd come to with himself. No matter how much he wanted her, he would probably never have that with her. And that was for the best, given the intensity of what he knew would do for her: Anything she asked, practically. So he treasured her as his best friend, because that's what she was… even though he privately dreamed of her being his in the way the Tribe recognized. For life. To death. Riduur. Wife. One together. One apart. The one he wanted to share all with. The only woman he'd ever thought yes, she could be the mother of the children I never planned to have. The woman who would never take the Creed or wear a helmet—and he didn't think he wanted her to, either.
Despondent now, he gazed at woman sagging at the wall beside him who smiled dreamily his way. His heart ached for her, and defeat made him feel weary. "Dammit, you are so beautiful," he breathed in frustrated longing… then realized in mild horror he'd said it out loud.
"… What?" she asked like she'd misheard.
He froze, no idea of how to walk it back. "Uh… what?"
Amusement grew. "What?"
"Nothing," he fibbed. "I forget."
She grinned gleefully. "You said I was beautiful!"
Din sighed. "Okay fine. I did say that."
"You really think so?" she asked, sloppy and cute and putting a hand to her face in a silly, demure mocking him, halfway delighting in the compliment.
Ugh. That adorable coquettish stuff only added to his problems. "Yes, okay?" he admitted grumpily with an audible scoff. Gods he was humiliated.
A hand smacked his chest plate noisily. "Lighten up weirdo, will you?!" She was redder than before, but beaming and silly. "Thank you!" A very gracious and unexpected reply to his compliment. He had a feeling she would have refuted it sober. "Something wrong?" she asked a moment later when he never said anything else. "Kinda hard to tell sometimes with the—" She mimed something blocking the face from being seen.
He shrugged shallowly, eyes searching ahead of himself unseeingly. He was still in his thoughts from a moment ago. This was another reason he didn't drink often: he talked too much when inebriated. Just like he was about to do now. He could feel it coming. The things he would otherwise keep to himself. "I was just thinking." A lot. About everything. But mostly her.
Her curiosity was piqued. "About?"
It was quiet here. It felt safe with alcohol blurring edges and softening his wisdom away. And even though he told himself don't you kriffing start telling her things… he did anyway. "I… really hope you never leave," he confessed in a hoarse murmur. He cleared his throat. "Nevarro, I mean." But me, too.
She was bewildered and fascinated. "… Why you thinking about that?"
Din looked at his gloved hands unseeingly. It took him a while to reply. "Well, a few years ago, you said you'd leave in a few years. So… I guess I worry sometimes." Truthfully, he got more edgy about this precise anxiety all the time. He shrugged as he thought back to Canto Bight. Where he'd felt the most fear he'd felt in a long time when he saw her dangling midair and about to slip off. The brief conviction that he was about to see her die had stayed with him long after the moment had been thwarted. Even now the intensity of what he felt about her unsettled and frightened him. He didn't tell her as much, though. "That Malk stuff had me thinking maybe you'd decide this dump was old news. There's a whole galaxy out there… why stay here?"
Tala scoffed immediately at his very real concern. "Now why would I leave? You're here!" Her face went a bit funny and she added on quickly. "And the Tribe, and my job, and my… two friends and old lady Ruthie down the street and Zasana at the sparring club…" She folded her arms and leaned his way conspiratorially, using humor to deflect. "And besides, just who the hell would keep the Crest up to speed if I left? Definitely not you."
Smiling her way quietly, comforted by how little she seemed to care about leaving, he wished they could talk all night—but was so tired that he'd rather curl up on her and go to sleep. He sighed gustily, his mind enjoyably dull. "You're right. It'd probably end up with leaky power lines and borked hyperdrive efficiency." And a lot more issues that weren't ship related, but he left those musings on mute.
"Exactly," Tala agreed then made a helpless expression that was overly goofy. "So, see? I can't leave!"
Din smiled as the haze of inebriation continued. "I'll hold ya to it."
"Anyway," she added on furtively, becoming serious without warning. "I'd miss you. A lot. If I left. So." Her eyes flickered up to him a few times repeatedly, wondering what he thought of that.
Heart pulling hard, Din heard himself responding in a heartfelt murmur before he'd given himself permission to speak. "I'd miss you too." And then he revealed even more, cursing himself as it slipped out without him being able to stop it: "Hell, I already do when I go out."
The way she looked at him was unlike any way he'd been looked at. Ever. She swallowed. The time it took her to muster a reply felt like torture, even though it was mere seconds. "I miss you those times too." That murmured reply and the way she was looking at him spelled trouble. His entire body warmed and tightened in a very pleasant, frustrating way. A shudder ran through his limbs as he was suddenly, helplessly dwelling on a moment that he tried not to think about because of how crazy it made him: that dress on Canto Bight and how she'd looked in it. The haunting sensation of his fingertips ghosting against her soft skin. Fucking kriff. He'd known the alcohol was a bad idea. Maybe he'd ignored that conviction on purpose. Speaking of, Tala lifted Paz's flask up and shook it. "One more drink," she suggested.
"Ugh…" Din protested halfheartedly.
"Solus ori!" she insisted, a broken Mando'a version of the last thing she'd said. Din had very little left in the way of inhibitions. That, and he had a hard time telling her no. "For tradition," she coaxed, then sent him a devilish look. "And to get back at Paz a little bit."
Din grinned despite himself. Bad idea, but hey, tonight was the night for it. "You really sold it with that last part. Bottom's up."
He ended up taking a larger gulp than Tala—and both were immediately made stupider. "Oh gods, that was a mistake," Tala mumbled, laughing her misery. "Ugh."
"How am I supposed to walk now?" Din complained.
"Let's see." Tala sighed gustily and stood up with massive effort, a grunt, and bad balance. She offered him her hands and an, "Easy does it, big guy." He grabbed on, hauled up, then miscalculated the top of his height and tripped into her, which sent her stumbling back a couple steps for her own balance. All of this while they held onto each other's arms.
"Sheesh," Din muttered, not ready to let go yet. "It's been a while since I dank this much."
Tala belly laughed at their predicament, also not letting go. "You just said dank!"
"Everything's weird looking," he grumbled.
Still laughing, she found her feet and grabbed his helmet, shifting it back to straightness and startling the kriff out of him briefly. "It was crooked and hilarious," she explained.
"… Oh yeah?" he asked, hyper-fixating on her face and how close it was. After hesitation, he smoothed her hair at the crown of her head where it stuck up from pushing at the wall. Then he let his hand curve to the side of her head, briefly holding in a tender touch that betrayed everything he kept locked away in his mind. He wouldn't have done that sober. Her smile faded and he dropped his hand. They let go of each other but neither moved to step apart.
Intensity grew in her eyes despite inebriation. "Can… I ask you something?" she asked in the most hushed voice, immediately intriguing him and speeding his pulse up. "It's kinda… awkward maybe. And probably, I wouldn't ask except for, you know." She grinned then winced, indicating herself with emphasis on the drunkenness.
"Ask," he beckoned softly. Hoping it was what he thought. Hoping it wasn't what he thought.
Her tongue wet her lips so subtly he almost missed it. "Do you ever…" She swallowed. Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. "Do you ever think about us?"
His breathing hitched. His senses mounted, hovering as his spellbound voice fell to a scant whisper. "How do you mean?"
"I… dunno how to say it," she whispered back. She fumbled closer by the smallest distance, then cautiously set her hands on the small, unarmored part of his lower waist, staring up into his eyes with a vulnerability afforded by the alcohol but maybe something else too. The soft touch made him inhale sharply, captivated and frozen. Gaining courage, Tala's mouth worked almost imperceptibly and a hand came to touch the side of the helmet with a tenderness the skin of his face powerfully longed to feel. Her eyes burned into his through the veil of the helmet. "Like this."
He understood. And everything was bursting inside. Her question, posed in such an unimaginably sweet way, doomed him. His tongue was thick, his heart pounding, his entire body buzzing while his mind whirled in disbelief and intense nervousness. He had no idea how to respond, or what to say—and that fear from before locked him in place as possible end scenarios played based on what he did next. He took too long to find words and Tala's hope faded in the silence. Dismay began to show. She pulled away at a slow pace, deciding she was being rejected. Din stopped her, grasping her wrist. She looked back at him in confusion, hurt, and torn hope. He went to her, chest to chest.
It was unimaginably hard to confess this—and he feared that once he revealed one page of the book of secrets he kept, she'd soon read them all. Regardless. It was too late now. "I do," he admitted in a worried, enthralled whisper that slurred just slightly. His hand came to cautiously cup against the side of her face. Her breath caught. His thumb brushed her cheek. Slow. Uncertain. Charged with everything he'd pushed down inside over the years. He watched her breathing grow uneven and quick. "I do think about us."
Those eyes of hers were dark and impossibly full, registering a deep reaction Din got the feeling he was only seeing a glimpse of. As they drew in helplessly like steady magnets, she said his name so softly it could barely be heard. It was a question and a request at the same time, and the desire in it did something to Din. Maddened to the point of no return, his hand tightened on her face as he crowded his body fully into her space. She clutched onto him as her back hit the nearby wall; she gasped with approving surprise and stared at his vision strip with disbelieving, captivated eyes. His hand stayed right where it was.
Fucking kriff—for the first time in his life, Din wasn't sure what to do with the woman he wanted. Usually it would be straight to undressing as marginally as was needed for access. But Tala he wanted in a way he'd never wanted someone before: Nothing less than all of her against all of him. Slow. Thorough. Complete. The way they were in each other's arms now wasn't anywhere near satisfactory: He pressed to her head to toe, but the damn armor was in the way. Especially the helmet. His body screamed at him to do something he couldn't ever do: kiss her. Gods he wanted to, and this wasn't the first time he'd wanted it either. But in wishful thinking, he'd gotten so close that her forehead tapped up against his helmet. Only a thin sheet of beskar separated their mouths. Her racing breath fogged the lower half of the vertical helm strip; her arms were around him, pulling him close in a silent demand for more. Din grunted his frustration, dizzy and hot as he abruptly pulled her hard against him by the ass and choked on a moan. A soft, enchanting exhale that sounded more like a gasp came from Tala who'd snuck a hand underneath the cape at his neck. Her fingertips dug in, skin to skin—and he gasped too, losing his mind at the touch. His other hand moved from her face to tangle into her hair, crushing her to him.
"The room," Tala whispered heavily. Her eyes were half-lidded and hungry.
"The room," he agreed huskily in an urgent murmur, then pulled her along by the hand unsteadily. The floor was uneven and he knocked into the walls a couple of times when he took corners too early. Any small thought that rose of 'what are you doing?' he promptly ignored.
They made it to their destination. The lighting in Din's room was turned low, making the small space feel even smaller. The couple came in like a confused hurricane, stumbling to smash into a corner while entangled. There, they came to stillness, mutually surprised at what was happening. Then Tala swallowed and tempted fate. "Take off all this damn armor," she commanded in a hard whisper, eager and dazed eyes wondering if he would. He pushed her with suddenness to sit on the bed as he remained standing, and the pair panted at each other across the slight distance. Big, clearly aroused eyes stared at Din. And he didn't know how to refuse the desire making his blood thick.
"Okay," he breathed back, intensely nervous—so much so that he turned his back on her to focus himself. The world spun harder than it had all night. Clear thought didn't really exist anymore, and Din struggled with his hand-eye coordination. For the next couple of minutes, his poor drunken brain could only handle one thing at a time as shaking, uncoordinated hands went to work pulling things off—and whatever Tala was doing, he couldn't pay mind to it, he was putting all his failing strength into getting everything off. One glove, the other glove. His chest plate. A vambrace off his left forearm. A greave off his right leg. All clattered to the floor and he was exhausted from the taxing work. He straightened when halfway done because he was beginning to feel sick from bending over. Still, he persisted, rushing sloppily. A shoulder pauldron clattered off then he unspiraled his cape, knocking into a wall and almost losing his balance as he did so. His stomach churned with the increasing sick feeling and as it always did, the urge to upheave struck him with alarming suddenness. Forgetting everything, he snatched his helmet off with a grunt, doubled over expecting to vomit… then the urge passed, leaving him sagging and weary as his helmet clattered to the floor out of weak, drunk hands. That sound brought some modicum of sense returning to his muddled mind. His eyes shot wide.
Helmet. Floor. Wait. Tala.
She had just seen his face—or the side of it, anyway—and in his stupidity, he looked at her instead of away, horrified at his mistake and waiting to see the shock on her features. But on his bed with her flight suit unzipped to mid-torso, she splayed in an awkward position with eyes closed and mouth drooping open, a hand on her stomach near her zipper. She'd passed out into a deep sleep. Sagging in both relief that he hadn't revealed himself and utter dismay at how precarious he'd allowed the situation to become, Din's pulse began to slow. And then he realized Tala wore nothing under the jumpsuit in the way of a bra, or shirt, or liner—nothing. And while nothing showed except the smooth naked space between her breasts, he began sweating anew. I gotta zip that thing back up for her.
But first. He urgently looked for his helmet with lessening ability. The world was pitching. He shuffled and shifted then leaned forward as he reached for the helmet at the floor near the bed—and then he stumbled and caught himself poorly before falling face-first somewhere across Tala's lower half. He willed himself to push up to get out of the bed and couldn't. All his muscles said enough, and his lethargic brain couldn't last a moment longer. That was the last thing he remembered as the world rolled, pitched, then settled into thick, sleeping darkness.
Author's Notes: AHHHHHHH! *pants, panics, falls down, stares into the void* next chapter coming soon, it's mostly written already. :D Please do let me know your reactions, I EAGERLY AWAIT! Muahaha, sorry for the cliffhanger btw xD but yeah anyway I will go down with this ship. See you next chapter!