Din woke up to the soft dawn light filtering in through the tent entrance, the Tusken camp slowly coming alive around them. Massiffs barked, the fires crackled, bowls clanked as several tribe members prepared first meal, and the soft scraping sounds of children digging for black melons filled the air.

Din groaned and rolled over, the bed oddly cold beside him. He cracked open an eye and sat up quickly, coming awake in a flash. The tent was empty, with no sign of Fett. Din's armor still lay where he had carefully stacked it by the tent wall the night before, but Fett's armor and his gaderffi stick were missing. Din shook his head to clear the sleep from his eyes, and stood up, groaning a little as his sore muscles and old wounds made themselves known.

Kark, I'm old. He thought ruefully, stretching a little next to the bedroll. He looked around furtively once more before removing his helmet and splashing his face with the little bowl of water that stood on the low stool. A shriveled black melon lay beside it, revealing where the water source had come from.

Fett must have brought it earlier. Din realized, running wet hands through his hair to tame it a little before putting his helmet back on. The thought made him feel oddly warm, to think that Fett had left him water before leaving the tent for the day. Unbidden, the memory of Fett's arms around him came to mind, the feeling of Fett's strong, solid body beside his.

Enough. Din told himself firmly, reaching for his flight suit and pulling it on. Fett wasn't his spouse, or even a member of his tribe. He kept no Creed, let strangers see his face. The armorer would never accept such a man as a worthy spouse for a warrior of the covert, even if his father had been a Mandalorian.

I can't get attached, Din thought determinedly, not with someone who can't swear marriage vows with me. Din would control his impulses, his foolish adolescent urges, and find a spouse among the tribe, as was custom. With one who had sworn the Creed, who was an honorable warrior of the covert.

No matter how beautiful Fett looks under his armor. Din's mind unhelpfully supplied images of Fett's strong legs and his solid chest, of the rumble in his chest as Din lay half atop him.

I can't, Din reminded himself sternly. Fett was an outsider, no matter how easy it was to share casual camaraderie with the other man, to accept Fett's playful affection.

I can't get attached.

Shaking away thoughts of marriage and the Creed, Din armored up, carefully securing each piece of beskar to his flight suit. He pulled on his boots and made the bed, tucking in the sheets and straightening the blankets.

A faint memory surfaced, of being small and curious, just tall enough to peek up at the bed frame while his mother briskly made the bed, shaking out the sheets and showing him how to tuck in the corners. Another life, long ago, before the covert, before the name Mandalorian meant anything to him.

Din pushed the memory away, pressing his helmet into his forehead to focus his thoughts.

Now isn't the time to dwell on old memories, either. He thought ruefully.

He finished making the bed and left the tent, pushing open the tent flap and squinting as his helmet sensors adjusted to the harsh sunlight that already flooded the desert, even at this early hour. Din looked around for a moment before making his way to the closest fire, nodding a greeting to the Tusken women stirring a large pot that hung over the flames.

Need help? He inquired, signing the words with his hands. The woman chuckled and handed him the basket beside her. Din peered inside and saw it was full of small fruits, their skin tough and leathery from the Tatooine suns.

You can peel these. She informed him. Need a knife?

Din shook his head and unsheathed one of the knives strapped to his ankles, starting the work of peeling the fruit skins with the blade. It was soothing, repetitive work, peeling the skins and tossing them to the massiffs, putting the fruit in a shallow clay bowl. He had been at it for a little while, working contentedly in silence alongside the Tusken woman, when a large, bulky shadow stopped by his side.

"I see you've been kept busy." Fett said, his voice an amused rumble.

Din hummed in acknowledgement. "You were up early." He tried to make his tone casually disinterested.

Fett laughed and patted him on the shoulder good-naturedly. "I was checking for any signs of Bane on the ridge. It was still early, I thought I'd let you get some more sleep. You looked like you needed it."

Din huffed, irritated. "I'm fine. You should've woken me."

Fett shrugged. "No harm in getting some extra rest if you're able. We have to stay sharp."

Din bared his teeth even though Fett couldn't see it, his shoulders stiffening defensively. "You asked for my help. Let me help."

Fett held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right. I'll wake you up next time."

"Good." Din grumbled, tossing a bit of fruit skin at one of the massiff puppies, watching as it tore it apart with its teeth. "So, any trace of him?"

Fett shook his head and sat down on the rock next to Din, groaning. "Few speeder tracks, but nothing else. My guess is he headed for the canyons, one of the unoccupied caves. He doesn't know Tatooine like I do, like you do, but he's a good hunter, and he'll have heard about the dangers of the canyons. He'll try to use that to his advantage, slow us down by making us search a krayt den for him, sneak up on us when we're caught unawares."

Din snorted. "So we don't let him. Trap him out in the Jundland Wastes, take him out with a pulse rifle."

Fett laughed. "Got one of those handy?"

"No." Din admitted, tossing the last of the peeled fruit back in the basket and passing it to his Tusken companion. She clicked her tongue approvingly and set it down by the fire, reaching for the large pot that hung over the fire.

You can help serve. She told him, signing with one hand and poking the pot's contents with the other.

Din inclined his head. Of course.

She patted him on the shoulder, making a pleased noise. Good. Your mother raised you right.

Din blushed behind his helmet, and picked up the stack of bowls to occupy his hands so he didn't have to answer. He didn't want to explain that his mother was long dead, killed by Separatists on a planet he'd long forgotten the name of. Instead, he made a vague noise of acknowledgement and began filling the bowls with porridge and fruit, setting the filled bowls on a large flat stone as the Tusken woman began to corral the others of her tribe to the fire to eat.

Fett watched him in amusement, taking the bowl that Din offered. "Any other ideas, seeing as we don't have a pulse rifle?"

Din rolled his eyes and filled the next bowl. "Yeah, we pay a visit to the Jawas, I'm sure they have some unpleasant weapons lying around. Then we stake out the canyons, let him come to us."

Fett hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, could work. Worth a try, anyway." He pulled off his helmet in one smooth motion, setting it down beside him and picking up his spoon. He looked over at Din, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. "You going to eat?"

Din flushed and set the bowl down on the stone. "I - I'll eat later. When there's - on my own."

When I can take off the helmet, he didn't say, but it was clear from Fett's expression that he heard it anyway.

"All right." Fett said easily. "I can keep watch outside the tent, if you need to take the helmet off."

Din felt the tension in his shoulders uncoil with relief. "I - that would be nice, thank you." He said sincerely, filling the last bowl and setting it down. "I don't - it's hard, on a job. Always - always strangers around."

Fett nodded. "I get it. I've got your back, Djarin."

A wave of emotion caught Din in the chest at the ease with which Fett offered his support, his friendship. We're not even clan, he thought. Fett was - he was prepared to look out for Din, even though he didn't know him very well. Even though theirs was a business relationship, with the exception of last night. Even that was just - practical, friendly. Fett had said he did that with others, didn't see it as anything remarkable or out of the ordinary. Not like the tribe saw such affection, such closeness. Intimacy was not forbidden in the covert, but there were - rules. Practices so ingrained that Din couldn't imagine disregarding them and choosing to share close affection, touch, with one who was not his spouse or child. That type of intimacy was allowed, encouraged, even, but careless affection with others? It was frowned upon by the rules of the tribe, rules that Fett had just ignored completely, as if casual touch, cuddling, was an everyday occurrence to him.

Din couldn't remember the last time he had shared such closeness with another, the last time he had cuddled someone the way he had last night. As foundlings, he and Paz had been close and had shared a certain affection that was permitted among children of the tribe, but as adults, that was unthinkable. Din hadn't even shared an embrace with a fellow warrior since his brief tryst with the armorer's son several years ago. Their relationship had lasted all of a few months, and had been largely a casual fling, but a hug in private among lovers was acceptable, even if they weren't spouses. Still, it hadn't been something they had advertised.

This is all so confusing. Din thought helplessly. Pushing the tangle of confused thoughts away, he cleared his throat and nodded. "I appreciate it." He said, a little stiffly.

Fett gave him a small smile, the corner of his mouth turning up almost imperceptibly. Thankfully, he didn't offer any other declarations of support or affection, instead focusing on his meal.

Din stood by a little awkwardly, watching as the other Tuskens of the tribe arrived to eat, pretending to watch the fire.

Soon, Fett finished his meal and cleaned his bowl, stacking it with the other empty dishes. He looked pointedly at the lone bowl sitting on the rock, its contents long gone cold. "You should eat."

Din nodded, glad not to hover nearby anymore. "I will." He took the bowl and walked towards the tent, blushing a little. Fett rose and followed him, stopping just outside the tent entrance and turning to face the camp.

"Take your time. I'll stand watch."

Din inclined his head gratefully. "Thank you." He entered the tent and settled on the floor, checking to make sure that the tent flap was closed before removing his helmet and setting it beside him. Picking up his bowl, he began to eat, enjoying the chance not to lunge for his helmet at any sudden noise or shadow, safe in the knowledge that no one would see him without his helmet, not without getting past Fett.

I trust him with this. The thought was enormous, overwhelming, and Din shied away from it, instead focusing on his food. It was - Fett was an ally, they were friendly, but none of that meant that he was clan, that Din should trust him so unthinkingly. He wasn't among his fellow warriors in the covert, after all. Outsiders should not be trusted blindly.

Fett isn't an outsider, Din thought. Not completely, anyway.

Shaking his head, he finished his food and put on his helmet, standing with a groan and leaving the tent. Fett turned his head to look at him, his visor gleaming in the sunlight.

"You've eaten?"

"Yeah." Din held up his empty bowl demonstratively, and Fett made an approving noise.

"Good. We'll need to head out soon if we want to find the Jawas. They'll be on the move towards Anchorhead to sell their wares, so we'll want to intercept them on the road if we want to get any of the good weapons."

Din nodded. "All right. Let me clean this, and I'll be ready to head out."

Fett inclined his head. "Of course."

Din walked over to the cookfire and cleaned his bowl before stacking it with the others, nodding to the several Tuskens gathered around the fire.

We have business on the road. He told them, tracing the words in the air in Tusken sign.

The woman from that morning nodded. Will you return?

This evening, if all goes well. We would be grateful to impose on your hospitality for a bit longer.

She snorted dismissively. Of course. You are our guests.

Thank you. Din signed gratefully, inclining his head. She laughed and smacked him on the arm.

Happy hunting.

He nodded, placing his fist over his chest solemnly before turning and walking back to the tent.

"Ready?" Fett called, watching him approach.

Din nodded, feeling the calm purpose of the hunter overtake him, driving away the doubts and worries of his mind.

"Ready."