#bickering bounty board buddies.

[bountyhaunter]

TIMING: Before the farm fire PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @bountyhaunter LOCATION: The 3 daggers SUMMARY: Kaden and Daiyu look at the bounties! They also communicate very well. CONTENT: Allusions to hunter upbringings.

Kaden hadn’t walked this path in a while but it felt just as familiar under his feet. The hunter bar was tucked away in a barn, hard to find if you didn’t know where to look, and had once been a small comfort to the ranger. He knew from the moment he stepped foot in Wicked’s Rest that his hunting habits weren’t going to match most others in town, but there was a camaraderie in a place like that all the same. It was something familiar in a way that felt safe enough to indulge in when he first got to town. The more connections he made, the less he went and he’d all but exiled himself from it when he learned what Monty was. It made him too anxious to know that any number of the patrons there wouldn’t hesitate to kill his partner without a second thought. 

Funny to think the reason he was showing up now was on his behalf. Not that it was what Monty wanted or asked him to do, but Kaden couldn’t sit back and not investigate. Not after what happened with the animals. If there was any lead on who could be doing this shit, he couldn’t let it sit uninvestigated. 

The ranger inhaled deeply, letting the breath fill his lungs and sit there a moment before huffing it out and swinging the doors open. The bar was unchanged from the last time he’d been there months and months ago. Couldn’t say he was surprised. Kaden knew he should probably go to the bar first, get a drink, make himself less suspicious, but he went straight to the bounty board. He had to know what was there, he had to know if someone in this very bar was trying to orchestrate the downfall of everything his partner had worked to build. 

Kaden was so focused that the side of his arm collided into someone’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he muttered to the person seemingly headed in the same direction. Normally he’d step aside and let them go first but this was a matter of–

Hold on. He knew this person. Putain de merde. Just his fucking luck. “Hey, Daiyu,” he said, trying to position himself in a way that she couldn’t dart past him to the board before he could get a good look. “Good seeing you again. How’s it going? Less snow werewolves I’m assuming.”

—

She’d garnered a bit of a reputation with the people at the 3 Daggers by now. Daiyu was the short, fiery hunter that often hopped in with a duffel bag filled with some kind of proof of a bounty succeeded. Mark knew her order by heart at this point (it was easy, admittedly — she always wanted a coke, preferably cherry) and she’d found herself building a back-and-forth with a few of the regulars.

The bar was a nice reprieve in Wicked’s Rest, even if it brought some complicated feelings at the same time — but that seemed to go for everything Daiyu did anyway. Nothing was ever simple, no matter how much she tried to simplify it in her mind. Still, she kept coming back. To find new bounties, to collect rewards, to rub elbows with some hunters and to eat a bit after a long trek in the woods.

Today she needed a new challenge. And a cherry coke, of course, but that was something she’d already gotten a hold of. She was moving towards the bounty board now, yelling something over her shoulder at one of the few hunters her age in the bar, “I’ll hold you to that Anton! I’ll get a whiteboard up here and we’ll tally it and I’ll prove you once and for all that I’m better at hunting hellhounds.” 

She was grinning as she moved over, but then an arm hit her in the shoulder. Daiyu angled her head up (she had to do that a lot — she missed Jade, her fellow short-gal hunter) and looked at Kaden. Her grin grew a little wider. “Better look out where you’re going, big guy,” she said, demonstratively rubbing her shoulder as if she hadn’t also bumped into him. It seemed he was heading to the board too, which made her feel a hint of frustration. Kaden had seemed like a good ranger, and she really didn’t need the competition. 

“Oh, totally awesome, with me. Snow werewolf season has ended, but I’m gunning for some pollen monsters next. Like a pollen lamia or siren or something, could be cool,” she said, speaking rapidly. Kaden was very tall and built, so she couldn’t catch any sight of the board. “Don’t see you around here much. Nice to see you though — you doing good as well?” She tried to look past him, but couldn’t. “Gonna have a try at killing Flappin Flann’?” It was one of her life goals. She hated the idea of Kaden succeeding where she hadn’t yet, and not just because he was taller than her. “It’s impossible, man.”

—

For how short she was in comparison, it was still hard to block her from the board without being obvious. Kaden didn’t want to dodge left and right with every crane of her neck and tip his hand. Not without knowing a little more about her first. “Pollen monsters?” he asked, brow raised, wondering if she was joking or not. Sure it sounded implausible but that didn’t mean shit in Wicked’s Rest. He never thought he’d see a snow werewolf either so who was to say a fucking pollen siren wasn’t on the table. “Going to hope that remains theoretical. I don’t want to keep fucking sneezing while trying to stab something. Sounds like hell.”

Kaden tried to get a closer look at what was on the board, eyes skimming frantically for anything about zombies, gatlin fields, a farm, anything at all. Right, he should probably try to be casual and not a panicked goddamn mess. He took a breath and looked back at Daiyu. “Yeah, I don’t get out much anymore. Guess I’m boring like that. Or something. But fine, I’ve been fine. Really fine.” He hadn’t nearly died and then watched as half the farm animals and Prickly Pears got slaughtered on the same night. Not at all. He was fine. Which is why he was so eager to find any listings that might be of interest. Because he was fine.

“Flapping what?” He snapped his head to look at her, almost forgetting that they were in a conversation. “What’s that? Is it undead?” Putain, that was stupid to ask. They were both rangers. Not that he didn’t  hunt outside of his specialty often enough and he had to assume she did as well, especially if she survived off of bounties. “I mean, not that it– I just hadn’t heard of it before so figured it might not be a beast. All that.” 

—

“Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding, “Totally theoretical, but like, not entirely implausible, am I right? We’ve had snow monsters, so they’re absolutely next.” She turned towards the other ranger a little so she could more easily talk to him, even though he was much too tall to stand next to comfortably. Daiyu grinned regardless. “You know, I’ve heard that being allergic to pollen is just a character deficit. I personally would not sneeze once when confronted with a pollen monster, because I’m built better.”

It seemed Kaden was desperate for a bounty, which would be understandable if it weren’t for the fact that he had a proper job and everything. “Eh, not going out doesn’t make you boring. I don’t count this as going out, anyway, though I guess stuff can get pretty heated and shit here when the hour’s late.” She shrugged. “But cool, glad that you’re doing fine.” Though she didn’t know Kaden very well, he seemed like an alright bloke and a good hunter. Daiyu didn’t want him to be doing bad or whatever. Just common courtesy.

She stared at him for a moment, raising a brow, “Bro.” She turned toward the board, scanning it quickly before pointing up and jumping to tap one of the postings. “Squonk. Big fucking squonk. It’s my life goal to cash this bounty. It’s been here since I’ve been here, apparently for a long fucking time … how d’you not know about Flappy? Notorious creature, that one.” She scrunched her face up. “Gets people trapped in its flaps and all. Not at all like –” She probably shouldn’t mention that she had a pet squonk now, so she redirected her sentence. “– most other squonks.” 

—

“I’m going to hope they stay theoretical in that ca— Hey!” Kaden spun to face her. Was she calling him deficient? “It’s not a character deficit. Or defect. It’s just…” Right, what was it? “I don’t know, genetics or something.” Then again, couldn’t allergies be treated or something? He thought he’d heard something about shots from someone. Probably other hunters talking about if they could build up immunity to other kinds of monsters if they treated them like allergy shots. Kaden was pretty sure that experiment failed, come to think of it. “You’re not built better, you can barely even see the board.”

That didn’t stop her from jumping up to point out the listing for Flappy. If he was feeling generous, he would have complimented her on it. Instead, he crossed his arms as he listened to her. He expected a harrowing tale passed down by some pissed off hunter years ago. He didn’t expect it to be—

“A squonk?” The word practically stuck on the lump in his throat. It had been a long time since Kaden thought about squonks. A very long time. He tried to keep the word “wrinkles” from floating to the front of his mind, but it was impossible to suppress. The memory pushed its way to the forefront without permission every damn time. He shook away the image of the knife slicing through wrinkled flesh and the sounds of pitiful squealing, opting instead to get a better look at the bounty in question.

It really was for a fucking squonk of all things. “Wait, you’re telling me a squonk is a notorious threat? A squonk.” He repeated it like it was something one of them didn’t understand about this exchange. “You know, a squonk. The wr— flappy dog looking monsters that can barely harm a fly? They just cry all the time. The worst they can do to you is get you a little soggy and salty. How the hell are people getting caught in its flaps?” No matter how many times he read it over and tried to make it make sense, it just didn’t seem right. 

Kaden rubbed a palm down his face. “Someone is really trying to kill an innocen— harmless squonk? Really? Putain de merde, the hunters around here clearly need to get a hobby. There’s way more dangerous game to go after for fucks sake.” Was he really going to have to find this thing to try and protect it from the bounty hunters in the area?

Right. He caught a glance of Daiyu and turned to look at her properly. Would he have to protect it from her? “You haven’t tried to go after him, have you? I mean, have you seen him?”

—

“Bad genetics are just a character deficit,” Daiyu said, looking up at him with a challenging expression. It was typical hunter talk — or rather, it was typical Volkov talk, though she lacked the insight to realize that. To think herself somehow above other rangers for something like a certain surname had been instilled in her from a young age, and even though she was good at breaking things, breaking that habit had yet prove unsuccessful. “I don’t need to be taller to read what’s on the board. You’re just absurdly tall.”

She took in Kaden’s reaction with a bit of surprise, noting the way he wasn’t aware of the threat this particular squonk posted and how he called it innocent. Fries was a harmless squonk, mostly — the creature was definitely doing some kind of water damage to the hardwood floors of her rented cabin, though. 

“Yes, I know what a squonk is, and I’m telling you — this one is not like the others. It’s like …” She frowned for a moment. “What King Kong is to gorillas, you know? And man, that must be a horrible way to go. Just getting stuck in those sticky, wet flaps and slowly suffocating. I’d prefer to get mauled for sure.” It was the end that befit a ranger and Daiyu was often surprised it hadn’t happened yet. Her body wore the proof that it, too, was surprised. “It’s far from harmless, though. People died, Kaden.” 

She didn’t seem particularly moved by the people who had died as she said it, perhaps because it was all a little ludicrous. Or because she’d never really been raised to be a hunter driven by the deaths of innocents. “Besides, what kinda hobby do you suggest I get?” She gave him a glance, wondering what he’d come up with. Daiyu would like a hobby, but none seemed to fit her. Unless owning a dog was a hobby. 

At his question, she shook her head. “Nope. Super elusive, that one. I have tried, you know, but I can’t find him! Anyway — if you’re not going after him, what are you looking for today?”

—

“Guess that makes you full of character deficits, then,” Kaden shot back. “You’d have to be full of them if you’re this absurdly short.” He knew full well she wasn’t that short but years of banter between himself and Keira had found its way into the conversation with Daiyu seamlessly. It prickled at his skin, whatever the feeling was, uncomfortable and comfortingly familiar at the same time. 

All he could do was blink in response to the description of the giant squonk. It was hard to imagine any of them as dangerous creatures but the present picture being painted was unquestionably horrifying. Suffocation by squonk wasn’t an ideal way to die, he couldn’t argue that one. “King Kong just wanted to be left alone and wouldn’t have killed anyone if people had managed that much.” He was far from a movie buff but he was pretty sure that was the gist of the King Kong story. “Probably the same for the squonk. People wouldn’t die if they left it alone. Can’t suffocate you if you don’t get near it.” Sounded sensible enough to him.

“I don’t know. Running? Knitting? Gardening? I don’t fucking know what you like to do.” Hobbies had hardly been encouraged growing up and he had to assume it was similar for her. Hunters and all. There was never any extra time to fill that couldn’t be filled with training or hunting. Something useful. It was hard to shake that inclination, even now. “I don’t know but I heard they’re good for you. Hobbies.” He shrugged, not sure he’d mastered those on his own, yet. 

“Me?” There was no reason for Kaden to be shaken by the question and yet he found himself rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh, uh, nothing in particular. Just seeing if there was anything about a farm.” He cleared his throat, unsure if he was saying too much. How much should he trust her? He wasn’t sure but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity for info, either. It was why he was here. “Or undead. Which isn’t— I mean, ranger but there were some complaints to animal control and I wanted to see if there was some overlap here. You know. See if it was more supernatural than animals.” Very convincing. Surely. 

—

“Hey!” Her voice was like a burst from her body, a shot through the air. One finger pressed into Kaden, “Shortness is no character deficit. Just means I don’t need to take up as much space to make an impression.” And leave impressions, that Daiyu tended to do. She gave a glower to Kaden to punctuate her point, which was a comeback she had made many times before. People loved to hold her shortness over her head (literally) and so she had had practice.

“Okay, the metaphor doesn’t go that far. I’m telling you, it’s a problem. People aren’t smart enough not to get close, so what?” Daiyu felt a kind of moral superiority that was rare to her. She wasn’t even sure if she felt any type of way about this or if she just wanted to win the argument, though. “They deserve to die just because they’re a little foolish and curious? Tsk.” Hunters were supposed to have some kind of purpose to protect others and though she barely ever felt like a protector, it was nice to pretend to be one now.

Her face scrunched up at the other’s suggestions, “I run plenty. The rest of those sound bad.” She didn’t have the patience for knitting or gardening. Hobbies were a novel concept to her, especially those that lead to some kind of fostering or creation. The closest she came was trying to become better at bouldering and caring for her pet, but those were just things she did.“You sound very convinced of that fact.” 

She frowned a little at Kaden’s reaction, figuring that his suspiciousness was pointing towards him trying to hide something but not knowing what kind of thing it could be. Maybe he was after the big squonk after all. Daiyu scanned the board, “Nothing about a farm, plenty about undead,” she said, shrugging. “Don’t worry, sometimes I go after those not-dead ones too. You know, why limit yourself? Maybe that’s my hobby. Expanding my horizons. Anyway, done looking?” She gestured at the bar. “First round’s on me.”

[rainydaydream-gal18]

The Mandalorian - Imagine Din Being Protective (Part 4)

Wow.  I got it done during a lunch break, and I’m so happy.  This is set near the end of Season 2.   It is pretty long, just a fair warning. 

Warnings: spoilers for near-end of Season 2, blasters, brief fighting.

   You watched the unusual exchange unfold before you before Mayfeld’s gaze swept over the group before flickering back to land on you.  He seemed to puff out his chest a little as he eyed you with interest.  “And who’s this lovely miss?”  Wonderful.  Just fantastic.

   Over the last several days, you learned that the Empire had been steadily recuperating behind the scenes.  The Razor Crest had been obliterated in the matter of seconds.  But worst of all, the Grogu was taken.  It was like one giant nightmare that you were waiting to wake up from, only to find yourself lying in a cot aboard the Razor Crest.  But you didn’t.  Instead, you were standing in the middle of a junkyard to recruit a prisoner who could help locate the child.  

   Now to top it off, this scruffy guy was hitting on you?

   You gave him a look, arms folded across your chest.  “The name is _________.”

   “Yeah?  Nice name for a nice girl.”

   Cara Dune made a fake wincing sound.  “I would back off if I were you.”

   He gave a shrug.  “I don’t hear her complaining.”

   “You better hope she doesn’t,” Cara taunted, giving him a warning look.  

   Mayfeld narrowed his eyes.  “Or what?  The Mandalorian is going to shoot me?”  He gave a laugh, shaking his head at the idea.

   “Thinking about it,” Din sighed in annoyance, the beskar chestplate rising and falling dramatically with the gesture.  He stood, hand resting on his belt in a casual stance just across from you, completely unaware of how content you were observing him in moments like this.  A part of you wondered if his annoyance with Mayfeld stemmed from his past experience working with the man, or if even a small part was because of the obvious flirt attempt he made at you.

   The prisoner’s eyes widened and brows lifted incredulously as he gestured to you.  “What, is this your girl now?  Finally got over Xi’an, eh?”

   You tried to keep the surprise and curiosity from your expression at the mention of this female, but your eyes instinctively darted to Din, whose visor was still glued to Mayfeld and refused to look your way.  The man caught this subtle expression and smirked.

   “Oops, sorry,” he shrugged with mock regret.  “Didn’t tell her about the ex, I guess.  I’ll try and keep things on the down-low then until you have a chance to talk about it.”

   You hadn’t asked Din too much about his past.  He expressed his disdain for the way he used to be, so you figured it was something best left untouched until he was ready to speak more on the subject.  Of course you didn’t want to assume that he had never had a love interest before, but he seemed so closed-off when you met him.  It was hard to imagine anyone could melt that ice.  Unless this Xi’an was something special.

   You felt a twinge in your chest.  It was like jealousy walked through the front door unannounced and picked a place to crash for a while.  It wasn’t taking over, but could be bothersome if you paid too much attention.  So you decided not to.  There were too many other things to worry about.

   “Alright, let’s get moving,” Cara said impatiently.  “We’re wasting time.”

   You boarded Boba Fett’s ship, taking your seat as the others did. The new ally began the take-off, and several seconds passed in silence before Din spoke up.  Mayfeld scoffed at the idea of obtaining coordinates to Moff Gideon’s ship.  Cara sighed and informed him that the kid was taken.

   The kid.  The child.

   Your little baby.  You kept seeing his face, his tiny green features and big brown eyes.  You pictured him happy as he sipped some broth and smiled at you.  Or the time shortly after you learned from the former jedi that his name was Grogu.  You and Din spent the afternoon calling him that and sharing laughs at how his ears perked.  The image was replaced with the most recent memory you had of him, when he was ripped right from your arms by strange droids at the seeing stone. You glanced down at your arms, heart sinking.  The bruises those droids left had already healed from bacta patches, but your arms had never felt so empty.

   Your thoughts were interrupted by Din’s disbelieving tone.  “Morak?  There’s nothing on Morak.”

   “It’s a secret Imperial mining hub, okay?”  Mayfeld replied.  “If you can get me in there, I can get you the coordinates.”

   Silence fell over the group again.  Cara glanced your way, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe the prisoner or not.  You gave a shrug.  This was Din’s idea, and if he thought it would work, you trusted him.

   Din commed Boba.  “Fett, punch in the coordinates to Morak.”

   “Copy that.”

----------

   “I did an initial scan of the planet,” Boba said.  “This is what you’re talkin’ about, right?”

   Mayfeld gave a nod, pointing to the holomap.  “Yeah, that’s the refinery right there.”

   “Wonder what they’re refining in there,” Fennec mused.

   “Looks like rhydonium.  Highly volatile and explosive.”

   “Yeah, kinda’ like this one, huh?”  Mayfeld chuckled, gesturing to Cara.

   From where you stood, you could see Boba’s look of unamusement and practically feel Din’s annoyance as the two stared at him.  That sight almost made you laugh, but the situation wasn’t exactly a laughing matter.

   The group speculated on the measures the Empire had taken to keep its refinery secure.  It didn’t sound like getting in would be very easy.  Fortunately, between a criminal, three bounty hunters, a New Republic officer, and you, a pretty decent plan was cooked up.  They were going to hijack a delivery truck and infiltrate the refinery that way.

   The question was, who?  Who was going to hop into the truck with Mayfeld?

   As it turned out, neither Cara nor Fennec could.  The ex-ISB had rigged the scanners, and both of them would be recognized in the database.  Even Boba couldn’t, and while the others stared at him in confusion, you chuckled under your breath.  You even heard a hint of amusement in his tone as he said that they might recognize his face.

   “Great, so it’s me going in alone,” Mayfeld shrugged.

   “No way,” Cara protested.  “The minute he gets inside, he’ll tip ‘em off.  He’ll be a hero.”

   “Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” he pointed out, offended.  “I’m doin’ you guys a favor.”

   “I can go.”  You spoke up much quieter than you intended, and the bickering didn’t stop, so you tried again.  “I can go with Mayfeld.”  At that, the conversations around you came to a halt as they considered the idea.  Cara nodded, impressed, while Mayfeld eyed you curiously.

“You, uh, sure you can handle it?”  He folded his arms.

“I’ve been traveling with Mando for a while now, and I’ve helped him and Cara on multiple occasions,” you told him.  “I think I can handle walking in there and laying low while you get the coordinates.”

He held his hands up in understanding.  “Well, okay.  I think it’ll work.”

You stole a glance at Din to see his visor already fixed on you.  It was that stare.  The protective one that made you feel safe from everything else, yet vulnerable to him.  It was like the air was stolen from your lungs for just a moment.  You figured he would protest, but you hadn’t expected what he’d say next.

“I’ll go,” Din volunteered.

   Mayfeld’s gaze traveled to him, and he scoffed.  “Hey buddy, I might be good at fast-talking, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards.  So unless you’re gonna’ take off that helmet, it’s gonna’ be me and _________ heading in there.  Or say goodbye to your little green friend.”

   “That’s not an option,” you argued, feeling the pain well up at his words.  You couldn't imagine what Grogu was going through, even now as the lot of you debated how this situation was going to play out.  You didn’t want to think about it, but you kept seeing him reaching for you.

   Din’s words drew the gazes of the entire group.  “__________ isn’t going in there.  I’m coming with you instead.  But I won’t show my face.”

   “No, Mando, even if you’re going, I’m going too.”  You blinked away the tears that had just started to blur your vision, fortunately catching them before they fell, and looking at him with resolve.  “I can’t stand by and do nothing.  Not with our baby being held by the Empire.”

   It was suddenly quiet.  Much too quiet.  And that’s when you realized your mistake.  You hadn’t called Grogu the baby.  Or even just his baby.  You had definitely used the word our.  It made you want to vanish into the jungle- especially when you took in how the group was looking at you.  Cara’s lips parted in a surprised smirk as she tipped her head slightly.  Fennec raised a brow, though her expression didn’t betray her intrigue in any other way.  Even Boba Fett’s eyes seemed to soften; whether it was over your expression of care for the child or out of pity at your slip-up, you weren’t sure.  You didn’t even want to look at Din, but you found yourself staring into his visor, searching for some indication of his feelings on the matter.  There was nothing, just silence.  Mayfeld sighed, though it didn’t sound like exasperation.  It almost sounded sympathetic.

   “Look, typically for a delivery like this, there’s only two troops,” he pointed out, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.  You looked to him, glad for the attention to be taken off of you.  He caught your pleading gaze and let out another sigh.  “It’s uncommon, but not unheard of.  I think we can get by with the three of us.  But you gotta’ lay low, like you said.”  He pointed at you, and you nodded.  “Alright.  We’ve got to go.”

   The nerves were building up in your chest as you, Cara, Din, and Mayfeld dropped onto the juggernaut.  This wasn’t like going undercover at the cantina.  This was a whole other experience entirely, but you felt ready.  Before long, the two troops were taken out, and their armor taken away.

   Din disappeared around a corner to change out of his Mandalorian armor and into the Imperial trooper gear.  Mayfeld complained about the smell of his newly acquired armor, and you were grateful to be wearing the spares that were tucked away.  You found a spot on the juggernaut to slip the armor on.  It wasn’t built for a female, so it wasn’t the best fit.  Still, it would have to work.

   Suddenly, Mayfeld chuckled.  “Look at this.”  You peeked your head out of the juggernaut to see what looked like a trooper approaching, but you knew to be Din.  “Oh, the shame.  Now that right there is worth the price of admission.”

   “Wish I could say it looked good on you,” Cara said, smirking.  “But I’d be lying.”

   Din ignored her statement.  “Just make sure you take out the rooftop gunners, or we’re never getting out of there.”

   “We got you.”

   “Take care of this.”  Din handed her the duffel with his Mandalorian armor.  “Keep it safe.”  As Cara took it, she assured him with a sincere look that she would.  You knew she would.  Like you, she knew what it meant to him.

   “Hey guys. Still on the clock,” Mayfeld reminded them.  “Me and _________ are all ready to go.  Right?”  He leaned over and gave your boot a nudge from where he sat.

   You shrugged and were glad to pull the trooper bucket over your head.  For once, you could be the mysterious face under the helmet.  “I’m ready when you’re ready.”  Not to mention your voice sounded pretty cool in the modulator.  Such a shame that it was a stormtrooper helmet because you could get used to this.

   While Mayfeld was busy taunting Din in an unsuccessful attempt to get a reaction, you looked to Cara.  

   “Wish me luck.”

   “Oh, I will.”  She shot a glance at the chatty man.  “Considering the company you’re going to have.”  Then she looked back at you with that smirk from before.  “So what was that about earlier?”

   You pulled the Imperial bucket off your head so that the modulator wouldn’t broadcast your voice.  “I don’t know what happened, Cara.  I can’t believe I said that.  We’re definitely more than travelling companions at this point.  I care a lot about him. I think I even... ”

   She nodded, smirk becoming a more reassuring smile.  “I understand.  It seems like he feels the same about you.”

   “Still, I’m afraid that I overstepped in calling Grogu our child.”  You shook your head.  “He hasn’t spoken to me since.”

   “Well there’s not a whole lot of time to talk, and it’s the kinda’ thing that takes time to sort out,” she pointed out.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine-”

   “Hey, if you two ladies are done, we have to get moving,” Mayfeld called.

   “Yeah, yeah,” you groaned, pulling the helmet over your head again.  You clambered into the front of the juggernaut to get situated.  The two guys were already seated and taking a look at the vehicle’s controls.  Mayfeld seemed content to be with his helmet off, while Din of course kept his on.

   “Feels better when it’s off,” he commented, glancing over at his companion.  Din’s trooper helmet simply turned to look in his direction.  He gave a smile in response before turning his attention to the road again.  “__________, you too, huh?”

   “I don’t ever get to wear a helmet, so I’m just enjoying this while it lasts.”

   “You’re enjoying this?” Din asked.  His tone didn’t seem to carry any disdain, just innocent curiosity.

   “Well, not this.  I mean the helmet.  It’s nice to have some privacy when I’m surrounded by people who get to cover their faces.  You guys don’t know whether I’m smiling or what in here.”

      “You’re smiling right now,” Din said, making you turn your visor in his direction suddenly.

   “How did you know that?”

   “I can hear it in your voice.”  And as if to prove his point, you picked up on the amusement in his tone as well.

   Right.  You forgot for a moment that he had a lifetime to discern emotions through helmets, being that he was a foundling in a Mandalorian community and all.

   “You know, you two are just adorable,” Mayfeld interjected humorously.  “Seriously, I’m touched.”

   The conversation died down again after that.  You were rather pleased with the exchange you had with Din.  At the very least, he didn’t seem irritated with you about your earlier statement.  Things seemed to be going rather smoothly.

- - - - - - - - - 

   You’d never been so happy to see Imperial troops in your whole life.  As Mayfeld pulled the juggernaut into the safety of the Empire base, they flooded the bridge and fought off the oncoming pirates.  Din had re-entered the vehicle, groaning in pain from his fight.  You noticed his armor had been busted off in some places from the fight.

   “Mando,” you said softly, hand on his forearm.  

   His visor looked to you as he said in a strained voice, “I’m alright.”  His reassurance put you somewhat at ease.  You knew he wasn’t really fine- he had injuries- but he was okay.  He made it.

   “Never thought you’d be happy to see stormtroopers.”  Mayfeld saluted the line of troops that saluted and waved as the vehicle passed by, most likely to make things convincing.  He and Din stepped out of the juggernaut to be met with actual applause and cheers.  One even clapped a gloved hand on Mayfeld’s shoulder in congratulations.  It would have been heartwarming if not for the fact that it was the Empire, and these people were working toward an oppressive future.  You hopped out of the vehicle, glad to be on solid ground and not on a shaky roadtrip with rhydonium in the back.

   “Okay,” Mayfeld said.  “All we gotta’ do is find a terminal.”  You moved to Din’s other side, and the three of you began making your way through the crowd of cheering troops.  His gloved hand took yours for just a moment and gave it a light squeeze, and you returned the gesture before separating.  “Should be in the officers’ mess.”

   “I’ll stand by and keep an eye out,” you said.

   “Good,” Mayfeld nodded.  “We’ll make it quick.”  You watched as the two men headed for the mess hall, and you found a spot along the wall to wait, bucket tucked under your arm.  The occasional trooper stopped by to congratulate you or give you a pat on the back.  This extended contact with Imperials was starting to get to your nerves.  

   Mayfeld and Din still hadn’t returned.  Whether you were being paranoid or not, you weren’t sure.  Better to play it safe.  You headed in the direction they had gone earlier, helmet still under your arm, and tried to act casual.  Mayfeld was standing at the doorway, eyes shifting between the floor and his surroundings.  No sign of Din.

   “Where is he?” you demanded.  “Is he okay?”

   “He’s in there.”

   You followed his gaze to the mess.  Everyone in the room had their helmet off.

   “I don’t see him.”

   Mayfeld sighed.  “He’s over there by the terminal.”  Both of you leaned in to sneak a glance, and you gasped softly.  You saw his form standing there in the very back, head of messy brown hair.  “I couldn’t go in.  He had to do a facial scan to get the information.”

   “You could’ve gotten me to do it.”

   “That’s exactly what I said.”  He shook his head.  “But we wasted enough time as it is.  He was worried about you going in there alone.  You know, he’d really do anything for that kid, and for you.”

   Oh, Din.

   “Trooper,” an officer said, and his eyes were fixed on the dark-haired man in the corner that you knew was the man you’d fallen for.  He rose from his seat, and your heart was pounding.

   “We need to do something,” you said.

   Mayfeld shook his head, eyes on the floor.  “I can’t.  I already said can’t go in there.”

   “Fine, I’ll do it.”  You straightened up, taking a deep breath, and quickly walked through the mess until you intervened the officer’s path.  “Sir.  You called for me, sir?”

   He paused, eyes narrowing, as he stared at you.  “I was referring to another trooper.  The one by that terminal.”  He moved to get around you, but you side-stepped to block him again.  “I’m sorry, you’re sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”

   He gave you a condescending look.  “No, but thanks anyway.”

   You hoped that Din had escaped the mess because there was nothing more you could do unless you caused a big scene, which was not in the plan.

   “Trooper,” he continued, stepping around you.  But to your surprise, he was faced with another.  Din had walked over.  Inwardly you burned at the thought of the Imperial officer looking at his face.  You averted your gaze, feeling as if it would be wrong not to.  Even though you wanted nothing more than to drink in his features while you could.  

   “You should pay attention when a superior officer addresses you,” the man said.  He tipped his head to one side in observation.  “What’s your designation?”

   Din spoke, voice unmodulated and sounding so small.  You’d never heard him sound so unsure before.  “Transport crew.”

   “What?” 

   “My designation is transport copilot,” Din said, forcing his tone to sound confident as possible to make it more convincing.  

   “No, son,” the officer chided.  “What’s your TK number?”

   “My TK number is…” He hesitated, and you could do nothing but stand aside and wait, holding your breath.  How many numbers were in a TK number, anyway?

   “This is my commanding officer, TK-593, sir,” Mayfeld’s voice interjected as he strolled in front of you.  He spoke so casually that you were sure he’d pull it off.  “I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant Tk-111, sir.”  He gestured to you.  “This is TK-501.”  Then, he glanced at Din.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a bit since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.”

   Your eyes wandered past Mayfeld, catching another glimpse of dark, messy hair.  To some it might seem a minor thing, but to you it was adding to the escalating situation.  Brown eyes locked with yours, and your breath hitched.  Din was looking at you.  There was a trace of warmth in his eyes, and your hesitation vanished.  You took in the way his brows furrowed slightly over his eyes, crinkling them at the edges.  You memorized each feature.  His nose.  This cheekbones.  The handsome way he seemed to be looking right back you.  You quickly turned your gaze back to the officer in front of you who looked in Din’s direction.

   “What’s your name, officer?” he belted, enunciating each word.  Seeing Din’s face had been a shock, and in the middle of the stress, this officer’s behavior almost made you laugh, but you swallowed the giggle that threatened to make things worse and kept your composure.  The officer leaned in, waiting for a response.

   Mayfeld took the liberty of answering instead.  “We just call him ‘Brown Eyes.’  Isn’t that right, Officer?”  Din’s eyes flickered over as he gave a hesitant nod.

   “Come on,” Mayfeld landed a hand on his shoulder and his other one on yours to lead you away.  “Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils...”

   “You’re not dismissed.”

- - - - - - -

   In short, things had gone from bad to worse.  Mayfeld was growing shakier by the minute as this guy ranted about the Empire and the sacrifices that were made so far.  You kept glancing at Din, who looked just as concerned as you, as Mayfeld visibly became more distressed.

   Finally he raised a blaster and shot the sick man across the table.  It turned into a firefight that ended just as swiftly as it began.  Once the mess hall had quieted, Mayfeld handed Din his trooper helmet.

   “You did what you had to do,” he said.  “I never saw your face.”

   Din stared at him for a moment before accepting the helmet.  He quickly put it back over his head just as more troopers arrived on the scene.  You sprung into action, pulling out the blaster at your belt and firing.

   From there, it was just a quaint little trip out the window and along a ledge above roaring waters of the refinery with several stormtroopers in pursuit.  Shots were fired.  You ran.

   It wasn’t until you were pulled further onto Boba’s ship by Din that you were able to stop and breathe.  Mayfeld was set free by Cara and Din after he blew up the Imperial refinery, and after he left, Boba set a course for Moff Gideon’s ship.  For the first time in a while, you and Din had a moment alone as he found the duffel bag of Beskar armor.  He paused as if thinking it over, before setting the duffel back down.  The stormtrooper visor was focused on you again.  You had long removed yours, and so you gazed back with your own eyes.  Suddenly, he placed a hand on either side of his helmet and slowly began to lift.

   “Din,” you whispered, quiet enough so no one else would hear, as you gently stopped him with the touch of your hand to his wrist.  He let go of the helmet only to put his hand over yours.

   “You need to know,” he began.  “About Xi’an.”

   “What?  No, no, there’s no need.”

   “I could tell it bothered you.”

   “Well, yes… Mayfeld made it sound like she was rather important, like you just finally got over her, and it bothered me that you never mentioned her.”  You shook your head.  “But I guess there was no reason for you to.”

   “There was nothing to get over,” he said simply.  “We flirted here and there.  It wasn’t anything real.  It wasn’t love.  I think Mayfeld was just bitter because you weren’t responding to his attempts.”  The chuckle that emitted from Din’s stormtrooper helmet made you smile.  It was a sound that you never imagined getting used to.

   You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips.  “Thank you.”

   “For what?”

   “For talking with me,” you replied.  “I was worried that after earlier you were irritated.”

   “Earlier?” His tone went higher ever so slightly in realization.  “Oh, right.  Your turn to talk.”

   “My turn?” you gulped.  “No way.  Let’s just forget it happened.”

   You could almost hear the amusement as he tipped his head, the visor staring at you in silence.

   You sighed in defeat, observing your hands as you fiddled with the stormtrooper gloves.  “Alright, well...the truth is, it sort of slipped out.  I think of the kid as yours because, well, you’ve been looking after him since before I met you.  And the Mandalorian we spoke to said that you are as his father, by creed.”  You paused, glancing up at his visor before continuing.  “But...I’ve also come to think of him as my own as well.  When I met the two of you, of course I thought he was a cute little guy, but I never imagined I could love someone so much.  I adore Grogu, really, even though I haven’t cared for him as long as you…”

   “That does not matter.”

   “What?”

   “It doesn’t matter that I’ve known him longer.  You care about him, and that’s what’s important,” Din nodded.

   “I do care about him.  As my own.  And with the two of us…”

   His visor was so close all of a sudden.  “The two of us…?”

   You ducked a little, recalling how he embraced you on that planet after a tense training session.  “You know.”

   “Do I?” he teased in a low voice, helmet even closer.

   “With the two of us together, sort of, I guess I thought of us as a family...I guess.  And it slipped out earlier.  In front of all those people.”  You raised a hand to cover your face in embarrassment at the memory.  Din didn’t say anything for a moment.  He reached up to pull your hand from your face gently, and with the other he lifted the stormtrooper helmet off with a deep breath.

   As you peered into those brown eyes once more, you smiled.  He smiled too then, the movement making his eyes crinkle.  It was a lovely sight, and you lifted a hand, pausing just below his chin.

   “Is it okay?”

   He gave a small nod, and you reached up to touch his cheek.  It was a little stubbly toward his jawline.  Then you went up to start at the crease between his brows and trace down the length of his nose to his lips.  He tenderly took that hand in his and kissed the fingertips.

   “We’re going to get him back,” he said.

   You smiled again.  “I know we will.”  Then, your smile faded.  “And if we find where he belongs, with a jedi, then I am prepared to do what’s best for him.”

   His eyes look sad as he responded, “me too.”

   “For now,” you said quickly.  “Next stop is Moff Gideon’s ship.  We are going to take him down and get Grogu back.”

   With that, Din leaned in and planted a feathery light kiss on your lips.  It was something you had not expected since the moment you first laid eyes on the Mandalorian.  You never imagined that you’d end up with him, seeing his face, or kissing him.  You returned the kiss, touching his cheek again as you let him pull you closer, wrapping both arms around you.

   The last few days had felt like a nightmare that you hoped to wake up from.  But now it seemed that even in the darkness there was a glimmer of hope.  The nightmare would give way to a dream.

[my-dear-hammy]

The Ship Wars

Masterpost

Chapter Eleven: Two to One

AN

*wonders how much of my vagueness in certain situations gets noticed*

----

Warning: Do I even have to warn about smut in this anymore because dear god im going to hell.

----

Jefferson was not happy. Why? It wasn’t just Hamilton’s ship, there was also a French ship anchored right along the Hurricane’s broadside. From the looks of it, they weren't fighting either, which also meant that if Jefferson picked a fight, he was screwed. But the fact of the matter still stood that he needed to check for Eliza’s presence, he had promised Angelica. Perhaps he could do so and leave and pursue Hamilton’s ship after the other ship had taken off. Then once he sunk Hamilton’s precious ship, he could continue his search for the Marquis de Lafayette.

So he proceeded as planned, sailed close under a flag of truce. Madison was still resting but Kinloch looked delighted, Jefferson had no idea why. Kinloch was a bit of a mystery to him. “Kinloch, what’s your opinion?”

Kinloch stepped up close to Jefferson, “I think it’s about time I saw the Captain in action, “ and winked before striding off to get the cannons prepared just in case everything went wrong.

Jefferson anchored his ship right along Hamilton’s and boarded, coming face to face with a scowling man. “I assume you’re his first mate?” Jefferson asked.

“Aye. Now, what the fuck do you want?”

“To speak with your Captain, obviously.”

“He’s not here.”

“Ah, the French ship then. Thank you.” Jefferson walked off, Laurens moving to stop him when a hand clamped on his upper arm, halting his motion. He whirled, aiming to punch whoever dared touch him, only to come face to face with Kinloch.

“Francis,” Laurens breathed, freezing up in entirely.

“Hiah, John. Still calling me by my dreaded first name, huh?” Kinloch hated his first name.

Jefferson stopped a Frenchman demanding to know where his Captain was, his tongue easily shaping the French words. The man told him both Captains were in the Captain’s quarters and wished not to be disturbed. Jefferson ignored him and marched for the quarters, wanting to get this whole ordeal over with already. He opened the door only to be greeted by a raw scream and the image of a Frenchman buried deep inside Hamilton. Jefferson froze. He had not been expecting that.

The Frenchman stilled and slowly looked death at Jefferson but was then taken back by not recognizing him as one of his own crew. Hamilton lay panting on the bed, eyes screwed shut, clutching at the sheets. “Who are you?”

“Um.” Jefferson’s eyes ate up the image of Hamilton lying so helpless on the bed, sweat pouring off his body, mouth wide and gasping for air, his face a mix of pain and pleasure. Everything cocky about him was gone, just pure submission and lust. Jefferson felt himself harden. No no no no no no no. He did not want to fuck the very man he’d been chasing across the sea for ages.

Yes, he did.

“I am the Marquis de Lafayette, Captain of this ship and I demand to know your name and your purpose of interrupting me.”

Jefferson was so fucked. The Marquis de Lafayette? Oh, so fucked. The Marquis was hunting for Jefferson’s blood ever since he killed Kalb. Hamilton was against him too. But maybe he could get lucky. “The name is Thomas,” Jefferson said, putting every bit of confidence he had into it.

“Well, as you can see, I’m taking care of some very important business. So, unless you want to join, get out.” Jefferson wanted very much to join, the only problem was everyone in this room wanted him dead.

And he wanted them dead. But now he had the pleasant image of the hot, famous Marquis de Lafayette buried deep in the infamous Hurricane Hamilton.

“Lafayette,” Hamilton gasped, Lafayette pumped ever so slightly at the sound of his name, “Thomas-” His words were cut off as he gasped again, baring his neck, and moaning, making Lafayette all the more eager to return to what he was doing. Jefferson's arousal only grew at hearing his name muttered so lustfully by Hamilton. That bastard.

“Quelle?” Lafayette questioned, “You know him?” Lafayette had never heard Jefferson’s first name before. Hamilton nodded and Lafayette looked toward Jefferson, looking him up and down. “How do you know know Alexandre?”

“Alexandre?” Jefferson questioned, that was Hamilton's first name?

“He's-” Hamilton gasped, Lafayette shifting his position as Hamilton arched slightly, unable to suppress it, not when Lafayette was buried deep inside him and every small movement he made was amplified by Hamilton's senses one hundred fold.

Jefferson watched Hamilton gape and writhed. He wanted that mouth wrapped around his dick, maybe he'd shut up for once. “My and Alex’s relationship is special,” Jefferson found himself saying.

“Thomas-” Hamilton rasped. No doubt trying to cuss him out.

“Alexander, what do you want?” Lafayette asked, pumping once.

“I'll let you continue your business. We can talk later,” Jefferson said, making for the door, his entire body burning with lust from what he just saw. He ducked his head back inside, “Put him on his hands and knees and you can penetrate deeper.” then closed the door behind him.

Lafayette looked down at Hamilton, “Should I have asked him to join us?” he chuckled. Hamilton clenched his teeth and the feeling of Lafayette's chuckles traveling down and into his body. “Where were we?”

“Fuck you,” Hamilton rasped, arching further onto Lafayette.

“I believe that I was fucking you,” Lafayette corrected, pulling mostly out of Hamilton, making him whimper which quickly turned into cries as Lafayette rammed back in.

Jefferson walked briskly back to the top deck, pausing when he saw the postures of Kinloch and Hamilton's first mate. “What's going on here?”

“Oh, Captain, this is John Laurens, an old acquaintance of mine,” Kinloch smiled good naturedly. Laurens looked like he had seen a ghost. “What's the plan?” Kinloch asked.

“Meet me in my quarters, I'll discuss them with you there,” Jefferson replied, already walking off.

Madison had emerged from his room and immediately drank in the situation. Kinloch's and Laurens’ posture screamed history, Jefferson seemed to have seen something that Madison was glad he didn't, and tensions were running high. “This ship is a powder keg waiting to explode” he mumbled to himself. Jefferson grabbed Madison's arm on his way to his quarters and drug him along, Kinloch immediately excusing himself from his conversation and following closely behind, watching carefully.

Jefferson couldn’t get the image out of his head, it was flashing in front of him endlessly. He shook his head, pulling Madison below deck and into his quarters. Kinloch weaseled into the room as well, “Not leaving me out, I hope,” he smirked.

“That’s the ship of the Marquis de Lafayette,” Jefferson said forcefully, releasing Madison and leaning his hands against the wall and dropping his head. Kinloch took a step forward, placing himself just ahead of Madison, “The Marquis? Doesn’t France have a bounty on Hamilton too?”

“Everyone has a bounty on Hamilton,” Jefferson ground out.

“Then maybe the Marquis will take care of Hamilton for us,” Kinloch said carefully.

Madison watched him closely. Kinloch was hiding something and Madison was going to bet it had something to do with Hamilton’s first mate. “Unlikely. The Marquis and Hamilton are fucking.”

Kinloch looked at Madison and then studied Jefferson’s posture and how he was grinding his teeth. “Ah.”

“More likely, they’ll team up against us, France and the English Navy aren’t exactly buddies right

now. We are at war,” Madison said.

“And the Hurricane would be a priceless addition to any navy. Is the Marquis trying to recruit Hamilton?” Kinloch asked.

“We need to fall back before they finish fucking and decide to tear our ship apart,” Madison said.

“What about, Eliza?” Kinloch asked.

“You’re just delaying our departure,” Madison sail coolly, “Have some unfinished business?”

“I don’t know what you-”

“Will you two stop bickering for two seconds and let me think?” Jefferson snapped. Both Kinloch and Madison fell silent, arms crossed over their chests and staring each other down. Jefferson turned to face them and they each dropped their arms and looked to him. “Eliza is what matters most right now. It’s why we didn’t just blow them up in the first place. We have to ascertain whether she’s on the ship or not. Hamilton and Lafayette are currently indisposed for a limited amount of time. We need to get the information and reevaluate from there.”

“I know the fastest way,” Kinloch replied, thinking. “I can be back here in a matter of minutes.”

“Fine. Do it. Now,” Jefferson said, gazing locking on Madison as he dismissed Kinloch.

Kinloch didn’t budge. “I need a second pair of hands. Madison.” Madison’s head snapped around to look at Kinloch, about to protest, “There’s no other option,” Kinloch said, tone even and calm.

“Fine.”

Madison hesitated before following Kinlock out.