Author's Note
Hello again, my friends!
Apologies for the extended absence. I decided to take an impromptu break from writing and then they announced the start of season 3. And, well, I just HAD to wait to see what they did. I especially wanted to see how they were going to deal with the whole "people saw my face" thing since the helmet is something that I will be addressing in this fic shortly.
And, boy, am I glad I waited.
So much to unpack. I know the reviews have been mixed, but I LOVED seeing more of the Mandalorian culture.
(They have a TALKING STICK! They use a TALKING STICK when discussing things as a tribe. I about DIED!)
But in all seriousness, I loved learning more about Mando and his people and I'm ultimately glad I waited so long. It's helped me figure out a few details, including what to do when Mando finds out about Mandalorians who don't always wear the helmet. Which, if you haven't already figured out, will be happening with Mahin's Mandalorian friends instead of Bo-Katan. Will I still have Bo-Katan in this fic? Will I do any of seasons 2 or 3? I don't know. Season 3 has given me a lot to think about. Definitely lots of good stuff to work with, and I absolutely adore how it ended, so we'll just have to wait and see if me and my muse can get this fic through all of that with Mahin in tow.
Now for the debacle that I'm sure the entire fandom of fanfic writers is reeling from.
Din is his surname. Not his first name.
Since all Mandalorians don't do their names like that, I can only assume this is just how his home planet did names. And when he became a foundling, the Mandalorians didn't make him change it to match everyone else. Why the creators decided to do it like this? No idea, but as a fanfic writer, I'm expected to go with it.
So, on that note, there have been a few changes to this fic. Not many. For the sake of my own sanity, I left the use of Din whenever it was Mando's point of view in previous chapters. Using a last name when referring to a person isn't unheard of, not even when referring to yourself, so I decided to just leave it. It will be changing to Djarin when it's his point of view going forward, though. I may go back and change it to be cohesive eventually, but that will take a lot of time and editing that will just have to come later.
However, Mahin would DEFINITELY be using his first name. So, the previous chapter has been edited to reflect our new reality of Djarin instead of Din. It didn't take much, but you can go back and look at what I did if you want.
I then had to go through all of my already written, not yet posted chapters and change the name. Including this chapter. Which was a PAIN.
But we made it and we're here now and I'm back to writing. So, go onward and enjoy!
A Hand to Hold
Mahin wakes warm and cozy with a feeling of safety that permeates her sleepy consciousness. The same way she wakes almost every morning now. It's an odd feeling. Not something she's ever had. She's lain in the arms of others before. Rarely and briefly. Definitely never overnight. But this…this is different.
Djarin is different. She's never felt this close to anyone before. Never felt this kind of connection. This kind of trust and warmth and longing and….
And love. Every morning, she wakes feeling loved, Djarin's arms wrapped around her beneath the blankets of their bed like he holds a star.
They never really discuss it after Djarin gives her his name. Once they admit to this thing between them—through actions more than words, but more than enough for them—they just naturally fall together. Merging their lives more than ever before. Her room just becomes their room. Her bed becomes their bed. A lot of his stuff gradually migrates into her space and she happily makes room for him.
Especially since it makes stealing his shirts a lot easier.
They don't discuss it. Don't even really think about it. They just feel their way through this, doing what feels right, and going with it without allowing too much thought or worry.
And what feels right to Mahin is spending as much time with Djarin as physically possible, whether she's conscious or not. She thinks Djarin feels the same since, more often than not, she wakes to him still in bed with her. Before, he would wake much, much earlier than her. She used to wonder if he skipped sleeping sometimes. But now, if he's not on a hunt, he goes to bed when she goes to bed. Or, which Mahin definitely prefers, he takes her to bed. He also rarely gets up before she wakes anymore.
Unless the kid wakes before either of them and starts fussing, of course. The sleeping compartment becomes the kid's room, the netting rearranged so that the kid can easily reach his toys whenever he wants them. Even though he seems to be perfectly fine with sleeping on his own, now, the toys only hold his attention so much before he all but demands one of them get up.
Usually, Djarin takes it. Sometimes Mahin, if he gets back from a hunt in the middle of the night. It's the only time she can convince him to let her be the one to get up so he can get a bit more sleep.
The kid seems to still be asleep this morning, though.
Mahin gently stretches, moving as little as possible before slowly turning around to face Djarin. She can't tell if he's still asleep. Since the room is pitch black and the door locks, Djarin feels comfortable sleeping with his helmet off without risk of her accidentally seeing anything without the blindfold, or the kid accidentally sneaking into the room. She might as well be blindfolded with how dark it is.
All she can do is feel.
His legs tangled with hers. His arms wrapped around her, left bicep acting as her pillow and right arm curled around her waist. Mahin slides herself forward, pressing her bare chest to his and slipping her arm under his to wrap around his waist in return.
She feels his breath hitch as it blows against the top of her head. So much for trying not to wake him.
"Good morning," she murmurs, nuzzling her face against his collarbone.
"Good morning," he replies, voice husky with sleep. His arms tighten around her, drawing her closer to meld them together.
Mahin hums in contentment, enjoying the skin contact and the amount of heat Djarin puts off. He's like a little furnace, which Mahin loves because the ship can get really cold at night. Normally, she bundles under layers of blankets. She definitely prefers Djarin wrapping around her a lot more.
Djarin's hand slides from her waist and up her side to cup her jaw. He tilts her face up towards his, lips sightlessly brushing along her chin until they find hers.
They kiss softly, lazily, a heat simmering between them with no pressure to make it something more. They simply enjoy the feel of each other. Being together in this safe and quiet place.
Well, until they hear banging coming from the other side of the door.
Djarin pulls back with a chuckle. He doesn't make to get up, though. Not yet. Instead, he tucks her head under his chin and runs his fingers gently through her hair.
He's been doing that a lot more lately. Playing with her hair. His hands just gravitate towards it. She noticed it, before. He likes her hair. She's not sure if it's the color, the softness of it, or what, but she's always suspected he has a rather large fondness for it. That's why he always argues against her cutting her hair super short whenever she suggests it, even if it would make it easier to hide.
When he went to touch it before, though, he used to pull himself back at the last moment more often than not.
Now, he doesn't hold himself back. He touches her more freely now in general. Like all of a sudden, he has permission. He's allowed.
Really, he always had permission. She never would have minded him touching her more.
She makes sure to lean into every touch, no matter how small, making sure to show him that he will always be allowed. Making sure he knows that he doesn't have to stop himself. That she doesn't want him to.
Mahin arches her head against his hand, practically purring when the next swipe of his fingers includes a pleasant scratch of his nails against her scalp.
Only to groan in exaggerated frustration at the next banging outside the door.
"Looks like someone is ready to start the day," Mahin mumbles against his chest. She'd happily stay all day in bed with Djarin, but she knows they can't. They both have a lot to do today.
"I guess," Djarin sighs as he gets out of bed. Mahin bundles the blanket around herself, trying to trap the heat in as she listens to Djarin move about the room. His hands easily find his helmet, always knowing just where it is like a sixth sense. He then uses the sensors in the helmet to see in the dark so he can find clothes, taking the helmet off again to put them on. The helmet makes getting dressed too difficult while wearing it. It won't exactly fit through the neck of a shirt.
Though she has seen him wearing just the helmet. A view definitely worthy of appreciation. The first time he did it, she spent hours appreciating every inch of bare skin. With her eyes and mouth.
Not something they have time for this morning, unfortunately. As soon as Djarin finishes dressing, he puts the helmet back on, turns on the light for Mahin, and slips out of the room to deal with the kid.
Mahin smiles to herself, giving another big stretch before finally dragging herself out of bed to find her own clothes.
She never thought she would find this. This kind of happiness. She has scrapped and clawed at the universe just trying to get by. To find some kind of existence that contains at least some sort of contentment. But happiness? With the past that haunts her and the Empire that hunts her, the weight of it all always felt too heavy to ever rise above. A sea of darkness that threatens to drown her every day.
But now she has a hand to hold. Someone to help pull her up out of the darkness.
And she has hope. For the first time…ever…she has hope that things will be better.
And, also for the first time, it makes her think about the future, as well as the past.
Djarin has already started to open himself up to her more and more. He's given so much of himself to her already. But what has she given him in return, really?
Only bits and pieces.
She knows of Djarin's past. Growing up as a child. The death of his parents. Getting saved by the covert. Training in the fighting corp. The types of unsavory work he did before the Great Purge consumed him and the other Mandalorians. The years of scraping by to provide for what remained of his people.
The unexpected change in his life and in himself when he met the child.
Mahin has only provided vague descriptions of her past. Little anecdotes of her family and their life on the run without giving away any real important details. He knows the Empire hunted her and her family, he knows the Imps killed her parents, he knows she ran on her own from them ever since. He knows of some of the things she went through trying to get by. But he has no idea of the why. He has no idea of what her parents were.
Of what Mahin truly is.
It is a secret she swore never to reveal to anyone. Not ever again.
Could she tell Djarin? If she wants what they have to be anything lasting, she feels that she'll need to. But is she ready? Djarin told her he'll wait until she's ready to talk, but, surely, he won't wait forever. And even though she feels that this time will be different, that Djarin is different...
It still terrifies her. The last time she trusted someone like this, she ended up in the hands of an Inquisitor.
Djarin won't turn her in to an Inquisitor. She knows it with a certainty that she only ever feels through the Force. For some reason, it doesn't make telling the truth any less terrifying, even though logic tells her it should.
A part of her also fears that he'll hate her for it. He's been looking for Jedi for months. She may not be an actual Jedi but she is, at least, a lead. Probably the best lead he's ever going to get, and she's keeping that from him.
Mahin sighs to herself as she finishes getting dressed and heads out into the cargo hold. She finds Djarin standing at their little kitchen, holding the child in one arm while he tries to single-handedly get breakfast going.
Well, he tries.
Mahin chuckles, taking the package of oatmeal from him. She goes through the motions of adding water and heating it up, doing all of it with one hand rather easily.
Her other hand reaches for his, giving a firm squeeze. More comfort for herself than for him.
Djarin must sense it because he asks softly, "You okay?"
"Yeah." She gives him a little smile, threading their fingers together. "I'm fine."
Or, at least, she will be. She doesn't know how telling him the truth may go, or when she might find the courage to do it, but she does know one thing.
She'll always be okay so long as she has his hand to hold.
Author's Note
Just a nice, soft little piece of fluff. I wanted to show the shift in their relationship, how Mahin sees it, and show her thinking about the future. Her future with Djarin, and the child, and how, if she wants to keep them, she's going to have to be honest with them eventually.
But that will come later.
Next chapter we get the heart pumping again! I'm going to try to get it out sometime this week as an apology for my absence, and with how short this chapter was.
Hope you enjoyed, PLEASE REVIEW, and see you all next time!
