2-1B had given Din enough medication that he slept fitfully through the rest of the day and most of the night, tossing back and forth on the cramped cot. His dreams were full of blood and sand, and he woke with a pounding heart and a shout on his lips.
Sitting bolt upright, he groaned at a sudden stabbing pain that shot through his side, and buried his face in his hands. His head ached fiercely, black dots dancing in the corners of his vision. By the look of the low light creeping across the floor, it was just past dawn.
"Fuck." He muttered, pressing his face into his palms. "Fuck."
"How are you feeling?" 2-1B asked, walking over to his bedside. "How is your pain this morning?"
"Fine." Din grunted, lifting his head.
The droid made a disgruntled noise, and began prodding the wound gently as he changed the bandage. "Well, this does not appear to be infected. You will need to stay here another day or two, but you are already much improved."
"Good." Din said, exhaling tiredly.
2-1B finished wrapping the new bandage and gave him another injection of pain medication, before instructing Din to rest as it left the room.
Din sighed, but did his best to comply, lying back down and pressing his face into the pillow. Despite the pain in his side and the conflicted knot of guilt and frustration writhing in his chest, exhaustion won out, and he napped restlessly, startling awake at every creak of the floor or whirring of the medbay lights. When he finally woke from his disturbed doze, he opened his eyes to find Fennec standing by his bedside, Grogu in her arms.
"You're an idiot." Fennec said without preamble, arching an eyebrow.
"Ahh." Grogu agreed sagely from his spot on Fennec's hip.
"I know." Din muttered, blinking sleep from his eyes as he sat up.
"An idiot." Fennec repeated, shaking her head.
"I know, Fennec." Din rubbed his forehead tiredly, twisting the blanket in his hands..
Fennec's expression softened a bit, and she bounced Grogu in her arms gently. "Just talk to him." She said, rolling her eyes.
"Boba doesn't want to talk to me." Din muttered, swallowing past the lump in his throat, guilt heavy in his chest. I've really fucked this up.
Fennec sighed deeply and sat down on the edge of Din's cot, stroking Grogu's ear with a thumb. "He'll get over it. He's just worried, Djarin."
"About what? I'm fine." Din said petulantly, reaching for Grogu. The kid jumped into his arms, happily tucking his face into Din's chest with a soft grunt.
Fennec rolled her eyes again. "Mandalorians." She muttered derisively. "He cares about you, you idiot."
"I don't need him to - to coddle me." Din protested.
"Djarin -" Fennec looked at him for a long moment, an odd expression on her face. "You've lived with other Mandalorians, right?"
"Yes." Din shrugged, frowning in confusion. "And?"
"What was that like?" Fennec asked.
Din shrugged again. "I - I don't have much to compare it to." He said honestly.
He'd been so young when the covert took him in, when Separatist droids killed his family and destroyed his village. Time and grief had blurred those early memories until they were distant and distorted, as if Din was looking at them through a dirty window. He couldn't remember his father's face, couldn't remember his mother's voice. He remembered - fear, confusion. Violent sobs that shook his entire body as he cried himself to sleep at night, curled into Paz's chest. Time had dulled his grief, but also his memories. Lonely and scared, he'd thrown himself into being a Mandalorian, determined to learn everything he could and make the tribe proud. He'd forgotten so much - his native language, his people's religion. His father's laugh, his mother's smile. Only impressions, half-remembered and half-imagined, remained.
Being a Mandalorian is all I know.
"We are - we were all part of the tribe. Part of the covert." Din said, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain. "Everyone has their role, does their part."
"And what was yours?" Fennec asked, watching him intently. Her scrutiny made Din long to grab the helmet and slam it over his head, his skin itching, prickling uncomfortably.
"I - I was the tribe's hunter." He said, avoiding her gaze and looking down at Grogu, stroking one of the kid's ears. "I brought in credits. To - to feed the foundlings, pay for medicine, supplies."
"Sounds important." Fennec said. Din couldn't read her tone, and he bristled, feeling defensive.
"It is." He snapped. "Someone - someone has to do it. I - I can't just - "
Fennec raised an eyebrow. "Take a day off?"
"No."
"You're not the only one bringing in the credits, Djarin." Fennec said quietly, still watching him with that intent expression. "You've got us. We've got your back. Your kid's not going to starve if you rest for a while."
"I - I know." Din said, deflating a little. He rubbed Grogu's back, inhaling deeply. "I just -"
"I know." Fennec murmured.
Din looked over at her, his retort caught in his throat.
She shrugged, giving him a wry smile. "You're not the only one used to being alone. I'm an assassin, Djarin. We can be as solitary as bounty hunters, most times."
"And now?" Din asked, curious. He'd never asked about Fennec's past, or how she had come to earn Boba's steadfast, unwavering loyalty. The first time he met Boba, Fennec had been with him. They seemed inseparable, Fennec a constant shadow by Boba's side.
It would make him jealous, if it wasn't for the obvious friendship and love between them. It was different than how Boba looked at him, but the fact that Boba cared so deeply for Fennec, that he obviously took her advice more seriously than most anyone else, only made him more attractive in Din's eyes.
Din had always had siblings, others his own age, growing up in the covert. Playmates, sparring partners, peers he could go to for advice, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. Boba - I don't think he had that.
Boba had hardly ever spoken about his childhood except to mention his father's death, and Din hadn't pushed, the faded memory of his own parents' deaths and the destruction of his village a painful scene he often revisited in dreams.
I wonder how he grew up. Din thought, stroking one of Grogu's ears gently. Boba had lost his father, and never mentioned having any other family. Din had always had the impression that he had been alone after his father's death. Certainly Boba had never mentioned having another parent or a sibling who took care of him.
Maybe he finally has a sibling, with Fennec. The thought warmed his insides, affection thawing some of his lingering irritation.
"Boba is Daimyo, now." Fennec said, distracting Din from his thoughts. "He wants to create his own gotra, I think."
"A clan." Din murmured.
Fennec nodded. "A clan." She agreed. "It's new for me, but - Boba's loyal. He takes care of his people. He wants to take care of us. I've found it's easier to let him, in the long run."
Din bit his lip, turning the thought over in his head. A clan. Could he have a new clan, after losing his covert? It felt like a betrayal, the idea of replacing his people, of forgetting them. The loss of his tribe ached like a missing tooth, his chest hollow with grief.
But if I'm Boba's clan - that changed things. A clan - a clan took care of its own. Raised children together, divided the work of providing for the covert. Patched each other up, supported each other in battle.
Din had been a hunter a long time, accustomed to long solitary journeys in the Razor Crest, bringing back credits for the tribe's survival. But - the covert doesn't need me anymore.
"You and me, we're used to being on our own." Fennec said, her dark eyes serious. "So is Boba, I think. But - we don't have to be, Djarin."
No. Maybe not. He thought, looking down at Grogu. The kid looked up at him with wide eyes, innocent and trusting, wrapping a claw around Din's finger. Maybe we can be our own clan. Din and Grogu, and Boba and Fennec too.
Fennec patted his shoulder companionably. "Think about it." She suggested, picking Grogu up and settling him back on her hip. "And talk to him." She emphasized her words with a pointed look, before turning and leaving the room.
Din sighed, rubbing his face wearily. He sank back against the pillow, wincing as the movement strained the wound in his side. He closed his eyes, determinedly ignoring 2-1B as the droid appeared at his bedside, prodding his bandage.
"I'm fine, 2-1B." He grumbled irritably, tucking his face into his forearm to block out the medbay's harsh lighting. "Just leave it."
"You have been stabbed, Master Djarin!" The droid protested huffily. "I hardly think checking your wound for infection is unreasonable."
"It's not infected." Din insisted.
"That's good." A voice said, its deep, rumbling register comfortingly familiar.
Din moved his arm and blinked in the direction of the doorframe, pushing 2-1B away as he struggled to sit up.
Boba stood in the doorway, fully armored, his helmet in his hands. "How - how are you feeling?" He asked quietly. His brow was furrowed, and there were dark, bruise-like shadows under his eyes. It seemed their night apart hadn't been any more restful for Boba than it had been for Din.
Din shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the blanket as he settled against the cot's headboard. "Better. 2-1B says I'll be fine in a few days."
"I said that you would be much improved." The droid corrected huffily from the corner as it tidied up the cabinet of medical supplies.
"I'll be much improved." Din repeated, trying to smile, focusing his gaze on Boba's nose, unable to look him in the eye.
"Good. That's good." Boba said, turning the helmet over in his hands. "Din, I - I'm sorry."
Guilt twisted in Din's chest, and he swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. "I'm sorry too." He offered, his lingering anger melting in the face of Boba's misery. "I - you were only trying to help."
"I don't like seeing you hurt." Boba said quietly, looking up from the helmet and meeting Din's eyes.
Din winced. "I'm sorry." He said again. "I - well." He did his best to hold Boba's gaze, guilt pricking at his ribs. "I don't - I'm not used to -" I'm used to being alone. He thought, swallowing hard.
Boba smiled crookedly, as if he could hear Din's thoughts, and took a step closer, his fingers twitching around his helmet. "I know." He said softly. "I'm not - this is new for me too, Din'ika."
"It is?" Din asked, surprised despite himself. Boba always seemed so confident, so self-assured.
"I was a hunter too." Boba replied, looking down at the helmet in his hands before setting it down on the small table next to him. "I didn't get close to others, as a general rule."
"Yeah." Din murmured. Bounty hunting was a solitary profession. There were sometimes hunters in other coverts who chose to marry but it was rare. Those who did so usually chose to retire and give up that coveted position as a hunter to be with their spouse, to raise children together. Even when Din held the faint, deeply buried hope that things might work for good with Vik, he hadn't wanted to stop working. The Razor Crest was just as much his home as the tribe was, and being the tribe's hunter and primary provider had given him considerable status, had given him the chance to earn beskar of his own. As a foundling with no Mandalorian parent, he had no one who could pass down their armor, their signet, on to him. Not like how Paz's adopted father had passed on the Vizsla name, the Vizsla clan signet, pieces of his armor, on to Paz. Not like how Din himself would pass his armor on to Grogu one day.
I couldn't give up being a hunter. And few Mandalorians want to marry a hunter, when that would mean - living apart, leading separate lives.
Boba had never been part of a tribe, but maybe it hadn't been much different for him, before the sarlacc. Maybe he had never met anyone willing to accept the transient nature of a bounty hunter, no one he cared for enough to leave hunting behind.
"I'm sorry, Din." Boba repeated, his expression heavy. "I wasn't - I know you can take care of yourself."
"It's okay." Din offered, reaching out and taking Boba's hands in his. "I - I overreacted. I shouldn't have. You - you were just trying to help. I'll - I'll work on it."
Boba let out a breath, squeezing Din's hand gently. "Okay." He smiled crookedly, relief plain on his face. "Me too."
"Okay." Din repeated, and gave Boba a watery smile, his eyes stinging with relief.
"Can I - can I kiss you?" Boba asked carefully, hesitance still lingering in his eyes.
"Yes." Din whispered, tugging Boba closer by his chest plate and leaning up to press his lips to Boba's.
The kiss was soft and chaste, Boba's lips warm and dry against his own. Din melted into the touch, curling his fingers around Boba's chest plate, brushing their noses together. Boba made a soft sound of relief against Din's lips, reaching up to cradle Din's face in his hands. The pads of his fingers were rough but achingly gentle, his hands as reverent as if Din were something fragile and precious, some small thing made of glass. Normally that would irritate Din, would make him wonder if Boba saw him as fragile, a child in need of coddling, but now all he felt was affection.
They kissed for a few moments, languid and slow, warmth tingling in Din's belly. Din clutched Boba closer, the metal of Boba's chest plate cool against his fingers. He broke the kiss, chest heaving, but kept his forehead pressed to Boba's, their noses touching, Boba's bottom lip brushing against his own.
"I missed you, last night." Boba murmured against his lips, his voice raspy and breathless.
"Yeah?" Din asked, a giddy type of joy dancing in his chest.
"Yeah." Boba didn't say anything else, but Din could hear the unspoken question in the air between them. He tightened his grip on Boba's chest plate, the beskar creaking under his fingers.
"Your bed is better." He said softly, smiling against Boba's lips.
Boba huffed a laugh, pulling back a little to look at him, still cupping Din's face in both hands. "Tired of the medbay?"
"Absolutely." Din agreed, grinning foolishly as he set a hand on Boba's, Boba's fingers warm against his own. "Besides, I've heard that cuddles are an integral part of the healing process."
Boba laughed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah?" He asked, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Din's cheek. "Move over, then."
Smiling, Din shuffled over to the edge of the cot. Boba kicked off his boots and removed his armor piece by piece, until he was dressed in just his Tusken robes. He set his armor aside, piling it neatly on the floor, and climbed into the cot beside Din.
Din wriggled closer, tucking his face into Boba's chest and throwing an arm over his hip. Boba wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Din's head.
"You'd better get some rest, Din'ika." He said, tracing Din's bicep with his thumb.
"I could not agree more." 2-1B said pompously, appearing suddenly next to the cot, making Din startle.
"Kark." He swore. "I forgot you were here."
"Yes, that is clear." The droid retorted.
"Don't worry." Boba said, kissing the tip of Din's ear gently. "I'll make sure he gets some sleep."
"Good." 2-1B said, sounding satisfied.
"You don't have work to do?" Din asked sleepily, tucking his nose against Boba's collarbone.
He felt Boba shake his head. "Gave most of the palace the day off." He replied. "I've got time. Sleep, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."
Din sighed, but pressed his face closer to Boba's chest, closing his eyes. "Fine."
"Good." Boba murmured.
Din hummed wordlessly, exhaustion pulling him under. Boba said something else, his voice a comforting rumble against Din's cheek, but Din didn't hear it; he was already asleep.