"- wake up soon."

"And he'll be all right?"

"He will need a few days to heal, perhaps a week, but the bacta tank has helped. He should make a full recovery."

Din groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying down on a small cot, his leg wrapped in bandages. He looked down and realized that he was dressed in some kind of loose white robe and soft socks. He reached up and prodded his face, relaxing when he felt the cool beskar of his helmet.

They didn't take off my helmet. Sudden relief coursed through him.

"Djarin?" That was Fett's voice.

Din turned his head and blinked as Fett crossed the room and stopped by Din's bedside, his brow furrowed in concern. He must have taken his armor off at some point, because he was dressed in his black Tusken robes, his gaderffi slung on his back.

"How are you feeling?"

Din grunted, blinking sluggishly in Fett's direction. "Fine." He pushed his helmet into his forehead, trying to clear his head. His limbs felt oddly heavy, his head swimming.

Fett raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Thirsty?"

Din nodded, his pounding head protesting the movement. His mouth felt tacky and dry, as if he'd been wandering the desert for days.

Fett picked up a cup and helped Din sit up, his calloused hand supporting Din's lower back. He looked away as Din shoved his helmet up just enough to take a drink of water, studiously examining the wall. After Din took several sips, he let Fett take the cup from him and flopped back down in the bed.

A med droid appeared at Fett's side, tilting its head as it looked Din up and down.

"Hello, Din Djarin. I am 2-1B. I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance now that you are conscious. Will you allow me to run a full diagnostic? I have been informed that you are stubborn for a human, and I do not wish to offend you."

"Hey!" Din protested weakly, struggling to sit up.

Fett snorted, rolling his eyes. "Stubborn doesn't even begin to cover it." He muttered.

Din tried to muster the energy to glare in his direction, but the thought of moving his head was exhausting, and he settled back into the mattress. "I was fine, Fett."

"You passed out, Djarin." Fett said, looking at Din's bandaged leg pointedly.

Din winced. Shit, I did pass out, didn't I? Guilt prickled in his chest as he remembered how he had collapsed in the sands. He probably had to drag me here, he realized, flushing with embarrassment.

"Fine. Run your diagnostic." He grumbled irritably.

2-1B made a vaguely approving whirring noise and began scanning his upper body. "How would you rate your pain, on a scale from one to ten?"

Din attempted a shrug, hissing when doing so jostled the patchwork of bruises on his shoulders. "I don't know. A four, maybe a five." The pain was definitely blunted now, the sharp agony gone, but it was still present at the edges of his mind, lurking underneath the medication-induced haze.

"Good." 2-1B said, sounding as satisfied as a droid could. "The medication seems to be helping. Can you move your leg?"

Din grunted and rotated his leg demonstratively, wincing a little. "Yeah."

"Does doing so cause you pain?"

"A little." He admitted, watching as 2-1B scanned his leg.

"You seem to be healing well." The droid said, turning its head towards Din. "How do the rest of your injuries feel?"

"Fine. I'm fine." He said.

Fett blew out an irritated breath. "Djarin…"

Din glared at him, his body protesting the effort it took to move his head in Fett's direction. "I am."

"The scan indicates you may be experiencing some nausea or headaches. Is this accurate?" 2-1B asked, lifting its arm as if to run another scan.

Din sighed, his breath crackling loudly through his helmet. "I may have a little headache." He admitted.

"And the nausea?" Fett asked, raising an eyebrow.

Din rolled his eyes. "Some." He grunted. "I've had worse."

"This is a normal side effect. I gave you a significant amount of pain medication after removing you from the bacta tank." 2-1B said. "The nausea and headaches should pass in a few hours."

Din stiffened suddenly, realizing the magnitude of the droid's words. "Wait. You put me in a bacta tank?"

Desperate panic clawed at his chest. Shit. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. I trust Fett, he reminded himself. I trust him.

Fett heard the panic in his voice and laid a reassuring hand on Din's arm. "No one saw you without the helmet, Djarin. No one living, anyway."

"I was the only one present when I removed your helmet and placed you in the bacta tank." 2-1B confirmed. "I put it on before allowing visitors."

Din let out a shallow breath. "Thank you." Relief coursed through him. It had been hard enough removing his helmet on Morak, and later on Gideon's ship. It had been hard enough to show Grogu his face, to take off the barrier between him and the rest of the galaxy. The thought of some stranger taking it off while he lay unconscious, of someone looking at his face while he floated in a bacta tank - it felt as if someone had shifted the ground under his feet.

I should get used to it. He thought morosely. I'm an apostate now.

He shook off these thoughts with some effort and tried to focus. 2-1B was speaking, swiveling its head side to side as he addressed both men.

"- need a week to recover, so I am placing you on bed rest."

Din groaned. "I'll be fine." He insisted, shame prickling in his stomach at the thought of lying in bed for a week just because he lost control of his emotions like a foolish apprentice panicking in their first battle. Get it together, Mando.

"You were badly hurt, Djarin." Fett said, his expression serious. "You need time to heal."

Din shrugged, biting back a hiss as doing so jostled the bruises on his shoulders. Fuck, I really took a hit. The feeling of shame grew, mingled with the self recrimination and guilt that churned in his stomach.

Stupid. He thought angrily, shrugging Fett's hand off his arm. His leg ached, throbbing dully in time to his heartbeat. His headache spiked as he gritted his teeth, sharp pain hammering in his skull. Stupid. He curled his hands into the sheets, shame pooling in his gut.

"You seem to be in distress. Are you experiencing higher levels of pain?" 2-1B asked.

"No." Din muttered, flicking his gaze over to Fett.

Fett was watching him carefully, frowning. Din wanted to hide, wanted to squirm away from the concern he saw buried there. I'm not weak, he wanted to scream. He swallowed and looked back up at the ceiling, avoiding Fett's gaze.

"It's all right." Fett said softly. He moved closer to the bed, and took Din's hand, interlacing their fingers. His hand was warm, his calluses rough against Din's skin, his touch gentle as he rubbed a thumb over Din's knuckle.

Din inhaled sharply, his heartbeat picking up. Some of his anger melted away, his body reacting instinctively to Fett's touch.

"It's all right." Fett repeated. Carefully, almost hesitantly, he squeezed Din's hand, the gentle pressure soothing. Din couldn't help but relax into the touch, curling his fingers around Fett's. Fett hummed approvingly, the sound sending shivers down Din's spine.

"It's only for a week, Djarin." Fett murmured. "Rest. You deserve it."

"I - I have too much to do." Din protested weakly. "There could still be other hunters out there, and Grogu - I left him with Peli, he needs me."

Fresh guilt prickled in his stomach at the thought of the kid. He'd left Grogu with Peli before heading out to the Dune Sea with Fett, and he'd been gone for days now.

I told him I'd be back soon.

"I'll have her bring the kid to the palace." Fett said gently. "He can stay here with you while you heal."

"I - I don't -"

"Here, move over." Fett said, his voice exasperated. He reached back, taking the gaderffi from his back and setting it on the ground, leaning it against the wall.

"Master Fett, I really must insist you not move him." 2-1B insisted, swiveling its head in Fett's direction in alarm.

"I'm not." Fett replied, kicking off his boots and gently pushing Din over to one side of the cot.

"Fett, what are you -" Din stuttered, watching as Fett climbed into the cot beside him, lying on his side to face Din. Still holding Din's hand tightly, Fett pulled him close, wrapping his free arm around Din's shoulders. He wound a muscled leg around Din's calf, his bare toes brushing Din's skin, sending little sparks up Din's spine.

Din flushed bright red under his helmet and shivered, trying to ignore the rush of arousal that flooded him at Fett's gentle touch.

"Shh." Fett said, humming in approval as Din tentatively lay his head on Fett's chest. "Cuddles are an integral part of the healing process."

Din huffed a laugh, tucking his helmet into Fett's neck.

"I'm serious." Fett said, squeezing Din's hand, the pressure warm and solid. Helpless affection bloomed in Din's chest, pushing away some of his lingering frustration.

"Hm." Din smiled under his helmet, tentatively winding the fingers of his free hand in Fett's robes. The cloth was reassuringly textured, allowing Din to get a good grip without it being scratchy or uncomfortable. "If you say so."

Fett chuckled, the sound vibrating against Din's chest, echoing in Din's fingertips.

"2-1B, contact Peli Motto, will you? Tell her to bring Djarin's kid here."

"Of course, Master Fett." The droid replied, swiveling around and leaving the room.

"Thank you." Din said quietly, burrowing closer to Fett's solid chest.

"Don't mention it." Fett squeezed Din's shoulder. He traced Din's bicep gently with his thumb, making a softly contented noise when Din wormed a little closer, pressing their hips together. "I've kept you from your kid for too long."

"There was work to do." Din said, trying to ignore the stab of guilt at the thought of Grogu alone at Peli's, waiting for Din to come back. "I'd rather not leave him, but sometimes - sometimes it's unavoidable."

Fett hummed, pressing his cheek to Din's helmet. "You're a good father."

Din lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "I - I do my best."

Fett squeezed his hand. "Seems to me like that's better than most. Anyone can see that the kid thinks the world of you."

Din smiled fondly at the thought of Grogu's little claws tapping his helmet, of the kid's eager squeaks when he wanted to show Din a new Force trick he'd picked up. "Yeah."

They were quiet for a moment. Din shifted a little closer and closed his eyes, letting Fett's gentle touch wash over him. He was pleasantly warm and comfortable, tucked into Fett's side, with Fett's strong arm around him, their fingers entwined. Even through the beskar of his helmet he could feel Fett's solid heartbeat under his ear, could hear Fett's steady breathing above him. Fett's toes curled around Din's calf, the rough calluses of his feet brushing the hairs on Din's leg. Their bodies were pressed together from hip to knee, the pressure solid and reassuring. Din's torso lay half atop Fett, his shoulder pressed into Fett's ribs.

Careful. His mind warned, in a voice that sounded curiously like the armorer. He could almost feel her disappointed gaze, as if he knelt in front of the forge awaiting her advice, her guidance. You're getting too attached, Djarin.

I don't care. He thought rebelliously, curling his fingers tighter around Fett's robes. I don't care.

I want this. The thought was overwhelming, making him shiver a little in Fett's arms. But it was true. Din wanted this, the comfort of Fett's arms around him, of their bodies pressed together. This type of affection, this type of closeness with an outsider, with someone who wasn't a spouse or child was discouraged, but - but I like it. Din realized. I like it, and I want it. And I think - I think Fett likes it, too.

Certainly Fett didn't seem to mind Din curling up beside him like a touch-starved massiff puppy. He offered this - this intimacy, this touch, almost unthinkingly, and had done so several times now.

If he didn't like it, Din thought, a little desperately, surely he would put a stop to it. This - this is normal, for him. Maybe - maybe he's like this with all his friends. Fett had mentioned cuddling with Shand, after all, and seemed to imply that he had several such friendships. Just because it's not what the tribe does, Din thought, doesn't mean that it isn't - normal, for him. It's just friendship for him, nothing more.

After all, why would Fett want anything more? He was a confident, powerful man. He likely had any number of sexual partners, people far more experienced and exotic than Din, who could offer him so much more than Din ever could. Of course it's just friendship for him.

I can never be his spouse, Din thought, pain constricting in his chest, but this - this friendship, this closeness, I can have that.

I can have that, as long as it lasts.