"I'll give you twenty." Din insisted, crossing his arms.

The Jawa made a dismissive sound and turned as if to go.

"Fine, fine. Thirty then, but not a credit more." Din said, rolling his eyes behind his helmet. Behind him, Fett sighed deeply.

The Jawa turned to his companions and said something extremely derogatory about the nature of Din's parentage.

"I can understand you, you know." He snapped, feeling his patience wearing thin.

The Jawas just laughed at him, chattering in their high-pitched language. Silly human, thinks he can cheat us. No no, no one cheats a Jawa!

"I'm not trying to cheat you." Din said, inhaling deeply through his nose in an attempt to center himself.

"You know, Djarin, maybe this isn't worth it." Fett proclaimed loudly, resting his hand on his holstered blaster. "We can take our business elsewhere, find other Jawas who'll appreciate our investment."

The Jawas immediately shouted in disapproval, turning their hooded faces towards Fett and chattering insistently. No no, we have the best deals!

"Yeah? I don't know, I've heard that the Eastern Sandcrawler has some good stuff." Fett said dismissively.

Junk only, that's all they have! The lead Jawa insisted angrily, his companions making high-pitched sounds of agreement. Din winced and turned down the auditory sensors on his helmet for a moment, tuning out their offended squeaks.

"Hm." Fett said, turning to Din and tilting his head a little. "What do you think, Djarin? Think we can continue to do business?"

Din smiled a little behind his helmet and affected a casual shrug. "I don't know, depends on if they'll charge a fair price."

Fine! The Jawa threw up his hands. Thirty-five credits, no less!

"Deal." Din agreed, handing over the money as one of the Jawa children dragged a large pulse rifle almost twice their size over to Fett. Fett took the weapon and looked it over for a moment, checking the ignition chamber and the safety switch for damage before slinging the strap over his shoulder.

Anything else? The lead Jawa asked, suddenly far less combative as he saw the opportunity to make another sale. He gestured to the child, who ran inside the Sandcrawler and returned with a small cannon in tow, the type that was usually affixed to a larger ship or military base. This one had clearly been ripped off the side of an Imperial light cruiser, its wires tangled and broken.

How these Jawas had gotten scrap from an Imperial cruiser, of all ships, Din really didn't want to know.

Probably stole it from the Imps mid-battle. Din thought, rolling his eyes.

This is fine quality! The Jawa insisted.

Din scoffed. "That? Does it even work?"

Of course! The Jawa gestured to the child, who fiddled with the control panel, removing and crossing a few wires before aiming the cannon at the open desert and hitting a switch. The cannon went off with a boom, shooting a small projectile out into the sand, a fiery explosion erupting as soon as it hit the ground.

Eh? The lead Jawa turned back to them, sweeping an arm out towards the black mark left on the sand. You see?

Din looked over at Fett, who shrugged. "Could do the trick."

Din sighed, and dug around in his belt pouch for a few credits. "Add some fuel and I'll give you thirty."

Deal. The lead Jawa said eagerly, chattering in satisfaction as he took the credits. The Jawa child dragged the cannon over to Fett and handed it over, along with several canisters of fuel.

Can we offer you refreshment? One of the other Jawas asked, offering Din a bowl of bantha jerky and a black melon.

"Not if you're going to charge me fifteen credits for it." Din said dryly.

She squeaked in indignation. Fifteen? No, for you only seven credits, good deal!

"Of course." Din rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Jawas." He muttered.

"Let's go." Fett said, patting Din on the shoulder. "We've got some tracking to do."

Come again later! Tell your friends about the deals!

Fett scoffed dismissively. "Let's go, Djarin, before they try to rope us into buying a broken transistor or something."

Din nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart jumped at Fett's touch. Focus, Mando. "Yeah, let's get out of here." He agreed, clearing his throat.

They headed over to their speeders and strapped the weapons securely to the back, making sure nothing would fall off.

Fett led the way to the canyons in his speeder, Din following close behind. As they drove, Din tried to focus his mind, searching for the calm focus he usually found during a job. The cool, unflappable mind of the bounty hunter, the clarity that let him focus on the job and the job only.

It used to be so easy. Din thought ruefully. Back before Grogu, before he'd ever met the kid, he hadn't had anything to slow him down, no attachments that compromised his ability to make snap decisions in the field, nothing that distracted him during his work.

Things have gotten complicated. He was Grogu's main caregiver now that the kid had decided to quit Jedi training. He was probably more attached to the kid than was strictly healthy, but they were Clan, now. Whether he liked it or not, he had attachments now, and not just because of his role as Grogu's guardian. He had other friends, other allies that he had become close with. Vanth, Peli, Cara, Fett, even. He had more friendships, more attachments, than he'd had in years. He'd been a solitary hunter for a long time, used to living out on his own away from the covert for months at a time. Rival hunters had tried to rattle him by threatening his family, his tribe, but he had always been safe in the knowledge that the covert was hidden underground, so the fear of loss had never touched him like it did others. He'd never had any real friendships or family ties. He'd never had a spouse, a partner whose life he feared for, a child he had to come home to. He'd never been distracted by feelings, not like he was now.

Is it making me lose my focus?

Ahead, the sound of a speeder's engine cutting out echoed across the desert sands. Din shook away his confused thoughts and steered his speeder over to Fett's, slowing down as he approached.

Fett waved him over and waited until Din pulled up next to him.

"Looks like this is the place." Din said, cutting out his own engine.

Fett nodded. "From here we go on foot. You got that cannon?"

Din unbuckled the straps and lifted it from the speeder with a groan. "Yeah, I got it."

Fett reached for the pulse rifle, chuckling. "Heavy?"

Din shrugged. "Not too bad." He lifted the cannon a little higher, flexing his bicep in the process. He wondered distantly if Fett was looking at him behind that visor, if he noticed Din the same way that Din noticed him. He couldn't help but look at Fett's powerful arms as he slung the pulse rifle over one shoulder, armor plates shifting over broad muscle.

Stop it. Din told himself. We're friends, allies, that's all.

Fett, thankfully unaware of the direction of Din's thoughts, just laughed again and patted him on the shoulder before turning towards the entrance to the canyons. "Let's go."

Din followed him, taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing pulse as he dragged the cannon behind him.

How did that kid ever carry this thing? He thought faintly, lifting it higher to carry it in his arms. Fuck, Jawas are strong.

They walked into the canyons a little ways, quiet as they scanned their surroundings. Din turned on his thermal imaging, looking around for any sign of Bane or his lackeys, but saw nothing save for a few womp rats. He followed Fett further into the canyons, hoisting the cannon up in one arm and reaching for his blaster with the other. Fett had drawn the pulse rifle, holding it loosely up to his shoulder. Din switched from his thermal sensors to zoom in on the ground, looking for any tracks Bane might have left behind.

"Djarin." Fett murmured, stopping suddenly. He pointed to a faint set of tracks in the sand, so faint that Din hardly saw them even with the vision sensors on his helmet completely dialed up. Din set the cannon down and sunk into a low squat to get a better look, fiddling with the sensors to scan the prints. The tracks were half-swept away, either by the wind or a stray animal, but they were clearly the footprints of a humanoid, one of relatively average height. The prints were from some kind of sturdy boot, but that in itself was not surprising, given that most Tatooine residents wore some kind of leather boots to protect them from the hot sand and sharp rock.

Din switched sensors again, trying to get a read on how long the print had been here. The information appeared on the inside of his visor, a long string of letters flashing in his eyes. Blinking, he sat back a little and turned to Fett, who seemed content to hang back and let Din work even though he knew just as well as Din how to analyze tracks in the sand.

"Few hours old, humanoid boots. Might be him." Din reported, switching his sensors back to their standard setting.

Fett hummed and offered Din a hand. "Could be. Let's follow the tracks, see what else we can turn up."

Din took the offered hand gratefully, letting Fett help pull him to his feet. "After you."

He reached for the cannon and heaved it up with his left arm, unholstering his blaster with his right. "Remind me never to buy a fucking cannon from a Jawa ever again." He groaned.

Fett laughed. "Yeah, maybe we should've left that thing. Need a hand?"

Din blushed. "I - it's all right. I can handle it."

Fett shrugged. "All right. Let me know if you need a break."

Din grunted in acknowledgement, switching his sensors back on and focusing intently on the tracks. "Let's go."

Fett inclined his head and reached up to turn on his own sensors, flicking a switch on his helmet and following the trail. Din followed close behind, flicking his gaze over the empty canyons, looking for any sign of movement in his periphery. They followed the tracks for several miles before they finally faded, entirely blown away by the desert winds.

The weather had turned as they walked, the calm of the desert slowly fading away to a shrieking wind, a darkening sky. The wind grew stronger, blowing the tracks into oblivion, picking up little granules of sand and blowing them into Din's armor, into the miniscule gap between his helmet and flight suit. A clump of sand lodged itself right under Din's shoulder blade, causing his skin to itch fiercely. The air grew cloudy with sand granules, making it difficult to see further than a few feet in front of them. The wind picked up, whirling faster and faster as it blew more sand into Din's flight suit, blowing several small rocks into his helmet. They ricocheted off of his helmet, the beskar shrieking at the contact. Din winced and batted away another rock.

"Let's camp out here, in one of the caves." Fett said, his voice pitched louder so Din could hear him above the sound of the wind. "Sandstorm's coming. We should take shelter, wait him out."

Din nodded, following Fett to the nearest cave. They set their weapons down a few feet from the entrance, close enough to see outside if Bane appeared but far enough into the cave to seek shelter from the incoming storm.

Fett sat down on the ground with a groan, crossing his legs and removing his helmet, a shower of sand falling to the ground as he released the seal. Fett sighed and shook the last of the sand out of his helmet, off of his neck. Din could tell by the way he rolled his shoulders that Fett also had sand in his flight suit, blown in through the minute gaps in his beskar.

Fett grunted and pressed his back to the wall, setting the helmet down beside him. "Karking sand." He muttered.

"Gets everywhere." Din agreed, sitting down across from Fett by the cave's other wall.

Fett smiled tiredly and brushed off the neck of his flight suit, grimacing as more sand fell to the ground. "Guess we should've stayed in camp. We won't find much trace of Bane now."

Din shrugged. "There was no way to know there was a storm coming." He rolled his shoulders, trying to dislodge the clump of sand in his back.

"True." Fett allowed. He leaned back against the wall, watching as Din squirmed in an effort to get rid of that traitorous bit of sand in his flight suit. So far, it was proving difficult. Short of taking his armor off, he probably wasn't going to be able to get it out.

Well, fuck. Din thought irritably, pressing his shoulder to the stone wall of the cave and scratching the spot.

Fett gave him a lopsided grin. "You too, huh?"

"Yeah." Din grunted. He gave up and knocked his head back against the wall, the beskar making a dull noise as it met stone.

"I can turn around." Fett offered, his dark eyes meeting Din's visor. "If you want to take off the helmet, clean your armor. I don't mind."

"I -" Din started, unsure. The Creed forbade showing one's face to another living being, but it was less clear on what to do in this circumstance. The armorer would probably say that it was too easy for Fett to turn around and break his word, to catch Din without his helmet and dishonor him. But he probably won't do that. Din thought. Fett had respected Din's Creed before, had continued to do so.

If the Creed allows me to eat in the dark several feet away from my brothers and sisters, it probably allows this, Din reasoned. After all, how many times had he and the others in the covert turned to let another take a drink? How many times had he walked a little ways away and dutifully turned his back to the others as they ate? We could've turned around at any time, caught a glimpse of someone's face, but we all respected the Creed, helped each other keep it.

Fett didn't say anything, just settled back against the wall, apparently content to wait as Din thought it over.

Fuck it. Din thought. I'm an apostate already anyway.

"I - all right." He said hoarsely, clearing his throat. "I'd - I'd appreciate that."

Fett smiled. "Of course." He shuffled forward and turned around, so that he was facing the cave wall with his back to Din. "I won't look."

Din placed his hands on the edge of his helmet hesitantly, watching Fett cautiously. The other man didn't move, just sat there looking at the wall. Din released the seal on his helmet, tensing instinctively at the familiar hiss of pressurized air, a sound he generally only heard alone in the Razor Crest, far away from any other living being.

Get it together, Mando. Din took off the helmet roughly, wincing as a shower of sand poured from his helmet, flooding down his flight suit. His neck itched, his hair was covered in sand, and now there was even more sand down his back.

Great.

He swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair to shake out some of the sand.

Fett chuckled. "Any better?"

"Not much." Din said, setting his helmet down beside him as he brushed more sand off his neck, trying to hold his flight suit at an angle so he didn't end up with more sand in it. "That bastard better have sand in his boots."

Fett huffed a surprised laugh. "Knowing how Bane was when I knew him, he probably does. He always stayed away from desert planets, hated it. He wouldn't think to prepare for a sandstorm, not when he's planning to take me out and leave as soon as he collects the bounty from the Hutts."

Din growled. "He can try."

"Don't worry, Djarin." Fett sounded amused. "Fennec's put the whole palace on alert. And I have you, don't I? Bane'll think twice before messing with two warriors in beskar."

Din made a noise of acknowledgement and began removing his pauldrons and chestplate, setting them down by his helmet and brushing out some of the sand that had wedged between his armor and his flight suit.

"He better." He muttered fiercely, taking off his boots next and holding them upside down. Sand poured out of his boots and onto the ground for several long seconds, as Din wiggled his sock-covered feet and felt yet more sand wedged between his toes.

He took off his gauntlets and leg armor, piling them up by the rest, and even took off his socks, sighing as he shook the majority of the sand off of his body. Now dressed only in his flight suit, he combed through his hair with his fingers, getting the last of the sand there too. The texture of the cave floor pressed into his heels, rough sandstone tickling his skin. He felt almost naked, to be stripped of his armor in the middle of a mission like this, but he couldn't deny it felt a lot better.

There's still some sand under the flight suit. Din's traitorous mind reminded him. The miniscule grains under his flight suit itched fiercely, as if to remind him of their presence.

No. He told himself, pouring a little water from his belt pouch onto his hands and scrubbing his face roughly. Not this time. We're on a mission. There was no time to cuddle with Fett, not now. No matter how nice it had felt last night. That was a one time thing.

With a sigh, he slowly put his armor back on, piece by piece until only his helmet and boots remained. He shoved his aching feet back into the dirty socks and worn boots, leaving his helmet for last. Picking it up, he stared at the visor, his reflection blinking up at him. I'm already an apostate. He thought morosely, gripping the helmet tightly. What's the point of all this?

He shoved the helmet on before he could overthink it any further, engaging the seals with a hiss. "I - I'm good. You can move, if you - if you want." He said hesitantly, settling on the ground against the wall.

Fett shifted, turning back around to face Din. "Better?"

Din inclined his head. "Better."

"Good." Fett sounded pleased, a hint of a smile on his face.

"I - what about you?" Din asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "You - do you want me to - I can give you a few minutes, too."

Fett waved away his clumsy offer with a careless hand. "No, no. I'm fine."

"You sure?" Din tilted his head, eyeing him skeptically.

Fett shrugged. "I can live with it." He stretched out his legs, groaning a little as his knees cracked.

Din muffled a snort, leaning back against the sandstone wall.

Fett just rolled his eyes. "Just you wait until you're my age." He complained, stretching his arms above his head.

"We're almost the same age." Din retorted, shaking his head.

"Yeah?" Fett said, playfully lifting an eyebrow. "Just wait until you're in your forties."

"I am forty." Din replied. "How old are you?"

"Forty-two." Fett said smugly. "I told you, I'm old, Djarin."

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet. "Yeah, yeah. Those two years are really huge."

Fett grinned, patting the sand beside him. "C'mere. I don't know about you, but my old bones could use a rest."

Din stiffened, his playful mood disappearing. "What - what do you mean?"

Fett shrugged. "I'm tired. We have a few hours until the storm lets up, might as well get some sleep. I always sleep better with some company." He tilted his head, studying Din for a moment.

"What?" Din asked, uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny.

Fett smiled reassuringly. "How did you sleep, last night?"

Din shrugged awkwardly. "I - all right. Good, I guess."

"Good." Fett nodded. "Then c'mere, Djarin. I'm more comfortable than that wall."

Din flushed under his helmet, his pulse suddenly picking up. "I - I don't know."

Fett leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Offer's on the table, if you want."

They were quiet for a few moments as Din sat frozen against his side of the wall, his mind racing. The thought of sleeping so close to Fett again was terrifying and intoxicating all at once. Now that he knew how nice it was to be held, to sleep pressed up against the other man, he couldn't help but long for it.

I can't get attached. He reminded himself. I can't.

He looked over at Fett, who seemed perfectly content to leave him be.

Surely just one more time would be all right. Just once more, to get it out of his system, so he could get over this silly attraction.

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, and climbed to his feet, groaning as his various aches and pains made themselves known. "I - yes. I'd - I'd like to."

Fett opened his eyes and smiled. "All right." He patted the space next to him, moving his helmet out of the way.

Din moved to his side hesitantly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly before sinking down into a seated position. Fett's expression didn't change as he slung a strong arm around Din's shoulders, pulling him in close. Din shifted a little, before hesitantly putting his head on Fett's chest, beskar meeting beskar with a soft chime. Fett's arm tightened around him, his fingers gripping Din's upper arm. The pressure was good, reminding Din of lying side by side in the foundlings' dormitory with Paz, squished between the other boy and the wall. Fett was all around him, a solid, comforting presence between Din and the howling storm outside. He was warm all over, Fett's gloved hand a soothing heat on his arm.

"You set an alert?" Din mumbled, feeling his eyelids grow heavy, his limbs sinking into Fett's embrace.

"Yes. It'll wake us when the storm stops." Fett said, his voice a distant rumble. "Don't worry, Djarin."

"Okay." Din shifted a little, tossing an arm over Fett's middle cautiously. Fett hummed in approval and set his free hand on Din's, pulling his arm further around Fett's broad torso.

"Okay." Din repeated, curling his fingers around Fett's hip. For a brief moment, so sudden he half wondered if he had imagined it, he felt Fett's stomach muscles contract almost imperceptibly, as if he had inhaled sharply.

But what does that mean?

Din was too tired, his brain too sleep-addled to puzzle it out. Tomorrow. I'll figure it out tomorrow.

Din closed his eyes, and let sleep drag him under.