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myownwutheringheights · 5 years ago

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Detour: A Mandalorian Story

AN: A Mandomera one shot (for now), that has been spinning in my head for a time. Planning a NSFW sequel, let me know if you want it! #soft

Warnings: TW: pregnancy, and Din in Oberyn’s gold robes ;)

The Crest hadn’t received a message in several months. But that particular day, or night, (time seemed to ebb at a different speed while flying in space), while searching for the Child’s origin planet, he received three different beeps, three different encrypted messages, three different scattered message sources.

To any Imperial, New Republic or Guild fool, it would seem all unrelated. The time the messages were received would show either hours or days between each message, confusing anyone who sought to cause harm or pry to deeply. And they’d only see two messages; the third vanished from the system almost as soon as it had been received by the man who needed to see it.

To a Mandalorian, the messages all came from the same source, one at a time, from the same location and said the same thing; come now.

“OM-451 is in need of care.” The first message read. Din Djarin’s turned his head

“Arrive as soon as possible.” Was the second message. Yes, I’m trying to. Get on with it, he thought. The Child giggled behind him.

The last message was a set of coordinates, that he memorized quickly, knowing they’d vanish and he’d not receive them again.

“Ready for a detour? There’s someone who needs to see us.” He said looking back to the green child, who made a happy sound, it seemed, at the prospect of a new adventure. He entered the coordinates and saw the path ahead. “Batuu.... Outer Rim.” Maybe not his first choice to have resettled the Mandalors, but beggars also couldn’t be chooses; especially since they’d had to move because of him.

The Mandalorian altered the flight pattern and set off into hyperdrive. “Please be alright...” he whispered through the voice modulator as they flew the charted course. The Child cooed at the movement through hyperspace, but the Mandalorian could only think of one thing, and that was making sure that his Mate was safe.

Batuu was an eclectic planet. It was a place where people stopped, gathered supplies, and left. It meant it would have everything his people needed. It was a jumping point for travelers of all kinds. Few stayed. Locals went back generations. And those who were new to settling there were trying to lay low and not be found. It had a bit of everyone and everything, including rumors of illegal Coaxium runs and Jedi lore and artifacts, along with elements of both Empire and Rebel bases. Perhaps it was a better place for the remainder of his people to hide out than he originally thought; Mandalores were a dull afterthought compared to all that.

Even so, after docking his ship and bringing the Child with him and setting out in the market, looking for signs of his kind, eyes turned and focused on him and the shining beskar metal armor. Oh yes, the Mandalorians were here. The eyes said they’d seen others of his kind.

Din made his way through the crowded covered market. Lanterns hung all about casting different colors and glows. Various creature sounds echoed about, and smoke rose up from the cooking of the street food. Everywhere was the sound of machines and droids. He picked up the Child and kept him close in the mass. The best thing to do was wander. His people would alert him at some point and show him the way.

They likely already knew he was there...

He watched the hive mind of the people, and he avoided that path. He saw the route to the cantina and went the other way. If he needed work, then he’d go there. For now, his eyes were on the antiquities shop that had little traffic, but the merchandise shop had a large covered back area, more than what was necessary for the shop. Above the door was a Mandalor crusaders symbol. It was old, and to those unaffiliated, it would go unnoticed. The door hissed, opening, and he stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed were the old Sith and Jedi symbols. And the old languages and images on the wall....ancient things. Things that could send a shiver up the spine. He walked slowly up to the main counter, looking up at all the objects around him and above his head. The Child cooed once more, mouth open to show his little teeth as he looked about in awe at all the items cluttered in the shop.

He recognized the face of the man behind the counter; he was a Mate to one in the covert. The man looked up. “About time.” There were no further statements made. Behind the counter he pressed a hidden button, and a set of stairs descended into the hidden Mandalorian underground homestead.

“Is she alright?” Din asked, voice steady as he moved to the steps and prepared to descend.

“Sickness spread through the underground, as it does when we move the Covert and acclimate. But she will be alright....Winta will be happy to see you.” Din gave one nod and headed down the steps, and as soon as his feet touched the ground, the staircase lifted back up. He walked under the archway with the Kry’bes symbol, and it felt like home.

Mandalorians nodded to him left and right, life bustling here, hidden underground with his people. The ones uncovered were Mates, and all masked and unmasked were at work in some way. Everyone had a purpose and a place here, or the system they had created would collapse. Cooperation was key above all else. He didn’t see Omera, or Winta, and he moved faster. He headed down towards the small apartments, searching for the one that belonged to his Mate.

OM was crudely marked from a knife into the wall. He touched the mark. Omera. He knocked once, twice. He waited for permission to enter or for the door to be opened. A Mandalorian never stepped foot into the housing quarters of another, in case they were unmasked, or their Mate was in any type of compromising position. But he knew this apartment was his when the door opened and Winta grabbed him in a hug he didn’t know how to return just yet.

“You got the message!” She hugged him tight and then reached for the Child.

“Are you alright Winta?” He said touching her shoulders. The young girl nodded.

“I’m fine. It’s mama...she’s really sick....” His eyes tilted towards the ‘fresher, and he handed Winta the Child.

“Watch him, I’ll be right back. I need to check on your mother.” His voice was soft through the voice modulator, trying to be gentle with the girl. He touched her under his chin in a basic caring gesture and she responded gloriously, nodding in understanding and not feeling brushed aside, knowing her mother needed care. Besides, she was eager to care for the small green babe, carrying him to the small dimly lit gathering room. He looked around; the entire apartment was dark and cool. If not for Winta’s laugh and smile, the place would seem empty of all life.

Din stepped into the ‘fresher and closed the door. It hissed shut and he was met with warm steam, and the smell of exotic healing oils. They were highly sought after and valuable; his people were in short supplies. If his Mate had been given some, she surely was considered valuable to the group, but also...she was very ill. On the hooks, he saw two robes; his that hadn’t been touched in months, and hers. They were the finest objects in his possession besides his beskar, that had been a trade object from a mission an age ago that he hadn’t parted with. The second robe had never been needed till Omera agreed to be his Mate. He touched the golden fabric with his gloves, and he heard her heavy cough before he saw her in the tub. “Winta?” She asked, having heard the door. Her voice was scratchy and soft.

Steam pods were going off, resting on the corners of the tub and burning the oil into the warm steam around the room and filling the senses, intended to clear them and calm them. The water was colored with spinning colors of blue and green, and flecks of gold, fizzing from salts put into it, again with the intent to cure and to calm. He saw her long black hair covering the swell of her breasts, but it wasn’t long enough to cover the swell of her belly.

Under the helmet his eyes went wide in shock at the sight and the news that had been kept secret till now. But his presence on the outside was unflinching. His head tilted to the side. “Well. That’s new.” Omera gasped, startled at the voice she hadn’t expected but always longed to hear.

Omera’s hands were rested on her swollen abdomen, moving her fingers over it in a steady pattern, the soft sound of trickling water followed her movements. She smiled softly, and the light of her joy reached her eyes and brought a spark of life back to them. “You found us.” He stepped closer and into her view. She was pale, but her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the water. A blood vessel had burst in her eye from cough, leaving it red. As she sat up to draw closer to him, she was wracked with another fit of coughs and the Mandalorian was brought to his knees at his Mate’s side. She wrapped her arms about him, water dripping over him.

Her hands instantly lifted to touch his helmet, needing to see his face. He touched her hands and put them down and he stood. He gripped the sides of the helmet and slowly unmasked himself. The feeling was still strange, to part with his helmet even in her and Winta’s presence. It reminded him of the first time he had shown her his face, on the day they’d said the words and vows that made her the Mate of a Mandalore, and one of his people. He’d never imagined taking part in the Ritual. She, and their children, were the only ones permitted to see his face. His gaze now settled on her as he undressed from the layers upon layers of gear. Piece by piece he stripped himself down, out of the unnamed Mandalorian gear, to become Din Djarin, her Mate, before her eyes. It took time to remove first the beskar armor, then the protective layers under, and the rest of of clothes. Piece by piece, she saw more of her mate till he was bare before her. Her hands reached out to him, eager, silently asking him to join her, needing him by her side after all these months.

Now fully naked, he stepped into the tub of warm, healing water. Omera’s hands lifted to caress his face. His eyes closed on instinct at the gentle touch. She touched his cheeks, and moved her fingers over his facial hair. Her fingertips brushed over his lips before moving up to comb through his black hair. No words were spoken or necessary as his forhehead touched hers, and they rested there for just a moment. It was their moment, their reunion. But Din needed more contact. Sick or not, he leaned in to kiss his Mate. It was a long time coming, months....her belly showing the passing of time since their last night together on her planet, on his ship, when she’d chased after him with Winta, saying they’d not leave him. In the nights that followed, he’d had to teach her and Winta as much as he could to prepare them for the life ahead. They’d had to rendezvous to a meeting point with other Mandalores and tell them to take her and Winta: that they were part of the Covert, and to keep them safe and valued like any other Mate and offspring, while he continued to travel and keep the Child safe, till every one of his bounty fobs was destroyed, or the Child’s home was discovered. The memories played like a holo in his mind but he came back to the here and now with her. She tasted like medicine, and yet the taste of what was inexplicably Omera lingered. His fingers lifted to tangle into her incredible hair, wet and the ends moving weightlessly in the water. Their tongues danced together as the kiss was deepened and heated, breath mingled and warmed them both up even more. There were soft gasps and sighs of reawakening bodies, yearning bodies. Even in her illness he felt her move closer in longing and stars how he wanted her. But Din finally broke the kiss, and Omera took his hands and pressed them eagerly to her belly.

“Are you happy?” She asked, searching his gaze that he could usually hide behind a helmet.

“Yes. And terrified.” He said with brutal honestly. He’d never expected to claim a Mate, to have children. But Winta and the Child waited outside, and their own babe kicked in her belly under his fingertips. “Are you happy here? And with this?” He said looking around, referring to her new home. She was used to more freedom, to the outdoors. Here, secrecy was their survival. It was so different from the life she and Winta had led.

“Yes, I am.” She reassured him, squeezing his hands. Her smile was warm and he swore it held some type of magic. It was like nothing Din had ever seen. “They did not care that they’d never met us; your people took us in and we were instantly treated as one of them. I’ve never seen such loyalty.”

“You said you would not leave....” He countered, recalling the fight. He always wondering if she would regret her choice to follow the Way as a Mate. She thought for a moment. Yes, she had said that. But her smile only returned.

“Homes change...paths change. Winta is my home. And so are you, Din Djarin. So is this one,” she said, their hands on her belly. “This is the way,” she whispered, hesitant to say it for the first time.

“This is the way.” He answered her with firm confidence in support of her bravely speaking the words. He touched his forehead to hers once more, filled with pride at hearing her initiate the phrase, as was her right as a Mate. He touched the silver ring on her finger, taken from a piece of his beskar breast plate, as was tradition and crucial in their culture.

“Will you stay?” The question every Mate always asked every Mandalorian when they came home. “The medic told me she’ll be the first born of the covert on this planet...”

“She?” Din’s voice was soft, hands continuing to move over the baby bump. She nodded, still searching for his reaction. He barely reacted, it was still just taking in the news. But then he leaned in and he kissed her forehead, and he made it linger, and it was the softest thing she had ever felt.

Omera beamed, and held him as close as she could in the water, her arms wrapping around his strong back. Just as Din had never imagined such a future, she had doubted she’d find love again, and never imagined carrying another child. And so she responded to his touch, despite how weak and sick she felt. But when she coughed again he gave her space and helped her to stand in the tub. “Come, you need rest.” Together, they got out of the swirling colored water.

He wrapped a gold robe about her, and then himself. “I’ve done nothing BUT rest,” she muttered in agitation. The corner of Din’s mouth curved in a knowing smirk.

“But you still need it, and you’re not going out there where you could spread the illness to the rest of the covert and the foundlings.”

Omera sighed, turning off the steam pods and taking his hand in hers as they left the ‘fresher together. “I know you’re right. But you haven’t answered my question. Din...will you stay? I know it will be come and go. But will you stay?”

He caressed the silver band on her ring finger once more, and he gazed down at his own mate band. He rarely saw it, it was mostly covered in his gloves. Din hadn’t been prepared for the joy and pride he’d felt at watching a small piece of his chest plate be cut off and melted to form a ring just for her, and just for him. The chest plate covered the vital organs and the heart and as such was the proper place to take ancient metal for the Mated rings. Omera’s eyes were curious and still very much waiting for his answer. “I’ll stay. Till you heal and after the baby is born, for the first few months....as long as it’s safe -” She threw her arms around Din in joy as the Child and Winta played. It was more time than most Mates got for one stint of time. He held her firmly, protectively in his embrace; of course he would stay as long as he could. Then he hoisted her up into his arms and carried her to the small bedroom, while the two children continued to play.

Omera coughed again, deep and gasping, her hands tightening around the fabric of his robe as he hurried to bring her to the bed, laying her down and propping her up onto the pillows so she could catch her breath. He found the medicine that had been provided and he got her two med tabs. Din found himself looking around; he hadn’t been here yet, it was still unfamiliar surroundings. His focus and gaze turned back to his Mate; he could assess his surroundings later. As Omera’s breath returned to normal, her hands moved over the golden fabric of the robe in a more intimate manner.

“Incredible...I feel like this yet I still want you...” She whispered. Din lifted her hand and kissed her palm intimately with a promise. She closed her eyes at the sweet contact. It had been too long.

“As do I....there will be time. As soon as you are well.” His voice was low, husky in want for the beautiful woman in front of him. Away on the Crest, he’d thought of her more than even he wanted to admit. His work required focus; but now that he was back with the covert, and with her, Din could let go, just a bit...just a bit. And the part of him that let go was all for her, wanting her, wanting to pull the covers over them and rip the robes off their bodies and have her again and again. But not yet. No. Not till she was better. He touched his forehead to hers once more, closing his eyes in longing, before kissing her again. There would be time, he thought once more to himself. There would be time for them to have each other, to celebrate the act that brought forth the little one inside her. His hand coming to her belly, where he felt a firm, strong kick, as if the child was answering his thoughts. The couple smiled together, and he was in awe of what he had and what he felt.

“You really are happy...” Omera said, touching his hand over her, settling back into the bed, letting out a little hum of contentment as the little girl kicked once more announcing her presence in the galaxy.

“Yes. I am.” He answered simply. And it was more than enough.

He heard the Child and Winta giggle...he saw Omera smile and lean back further against the pillows to rest. He would stay, see her healed and see his daughter be welcomed to the covert. He would...he would be a father. And he was flooded with a strange rush of feeling....since he had sworn the Creed he had been on the move. Running, fighting, hunting. Never settling, never staying, never taking off his helmet. The concept of home was both foreign and long past. It had seemed unnecessary, and if nothing else, well out of reach.

But in this moment, hidden underground on this strange planet, Din felt for the first time since he was a foundling, that he was truly home.

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