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604to647 · 9 months ago

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Safest with You (Ch. 13 - The Birthday)

6.1K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din attend Boba Fett’s birthday gala.

Warnings: Brief description of violence (I won't tag it to avoid spoilers, but the action happens within the chapter and isn't an past incident being described), brief description of blood/wound (nothing explicit or too descriptive), fluff, established relationship, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), reader is described as shorter than Din and he lifts her off her feet once.

A/N: I made the title picture and did my best to crop and filter the dress so that it remains as inclusive as possible. As a new writer, being inclusive with the written word isn't something I have very much practice with, but much like writing smut, in order to get better, I will have to practice. I'm trying to be more mindful (ex. avoiding blushing) and it is my intention to go back and edit previous chapters to be more inclusive; at the very least, I'll be tagging more descriptions if needed. Thanks for being patient with me as I learn and improve and as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

"How are you single?"

It’s not a serious question; you and Din have already shared your respective dating histories, including lessons of love lost, lessons learned, hopes renewed. You pose the question, completely unserious, an enthusiastic response to his suggestion that the two of you turn on the Korean dating show that you had been watching at the nail salon. You and Lala had gone to get your nails done after brunch, and Din stopped by to pick you up, bringing both you and Lala, and your manicurist, coffees. He patiently sat next to you as Mary polished your tips, and you and Lala chatted while watching the foreign language reality show the salon had selected. From the corner of your eye, you noticed that Din had become engrossed in the show as well, but never said anything. Apparently, since leaving the salon mid-episode, you’ve both been equally eager to find out who the contestants chose for their “Paradise” dates.

“Just your luck, I guess,” he quips, planting a quick kiss on your nose as you unlock your front door.

Al looks up from the couch as you come in, and deducing that you’re coming his way, decides he doesn’t need to dignify getting up for pets. Flopping down on the couch and vigorously rubbing your dog’s head, you turn on the TV and scroll to the part of the episode you were watching when your nail appointment ended.

Din throws his arm around you so he can give Al some scritches as well, and says, nonchalantly, “And I suppose there hasn’t been anyone that I thought would pass Boba’s inspection.”

“Boba’s inspection?” you exclaim, aghast.

“Well, no, not like an inspection, more like he likes to meet the people dating… well, really anyone in the family, to see if it’s a good… fit,” his voice trailing off at the end when he sees the horrified look on your face.

“I have to get a mob boss’ permission to date my boyfriend??!?!”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘permission’.”

You look pointedly at Din, “So like, his… approval?”

Din tries a different tactic, “I don’t know why you’re worried, pretty bird. How could he not love you? You’ll pass with flying colours.”

“Pass??! Is there a date set for this test?”

“… no?”

Sitting up straight, you tilt your head in annoyance, “Din Djarin.”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to be my date to Boba’s birthday party gala in two weeks. It’s a big event, hundreds of people are invited, very formal, very fancy. I thought it might be a nice time for the two of you to meet.”

You don’t say anything, mind already swimming with anxiety.

“There will be dancing. Lots of dancing,” Din pokes at you, “and it’s a white party, so maybe you might like it if I took you shopping for a new dress?”

You make a silly face at Din, because you know he already expects your response, “No, no, I can pay for my own dress, Din. It’s formal… like black tie?”

Din can see your brain already switching to planning mode, “Yes, I think that’s what it’s called? I have to wear a white tuxedo jacket and a black bow tie.”

“Have to?”

“Yes, Fennec had a meeting with all the Mandos about dress code yesterday,” grimaces Din, “Just because you’re working the event doesn’t mean you will look like staff.”

You giggle. Din’s told you about Fennec Shand before; Boba had saved her from the brink of death after some coward shot her point blank in the stomach after a mugging. Boba had also tracked down the punk and made him pay tenfold while she was still in the hospital recovering from surgery; a surgery that Boba paid for. Once fully recovered, Fennec declared her intention to fulfill what she considered a blood debt, and became Boba’s right-hand woman as he rose to power. Fiercely loyal with a strategic mind that rivaled most army generals, she was the decisive and fearsome consigliere that Boba needed. She was also secretly, his wife. Din told you in confidence that Boba and Fennec had quietly fallen in love and married years ago, though few knew about it. Din only knew because his father had been the witness at the courthouse nuptials. Outwardly, they maintained the stoic, no nonsense appearance of boss and advisor for their own privacy and also for their protection, removing the temptation for anyone to use their relationship against them.

You have to admit, you’re sort of curious to see this dynamic for yourself. And the prospect of seeing Din in a tux holds its own special appeal. “Ok, let me see if any of the girls want to go dress shopping with me on Wednesday,” you pick up your phone and start typing as Din presses a loving kiss to your head.

You step out of the cab in front of the Coruscant Plaza Hotel, careful to gather the skirts of your dress so you don’t step on them as you make your way to the carpeted entrance of the hotel. As your heels touch the covered staircase, you drop the fabric and let the soft satin pool at your feet and flow outward as you walk towards the host at the podium. You give a little wave to Paz who’s standing sentry at the door before handing your invitation over to the man checking your name off the guest list; he uses a blacklight to reveal the invisible bar code on the back and scans it to finish your check in before welcoming you to the party. You immediately bound up the rest of the stairs to hug Paz.

“Looking good, Lil’ Lady,” says Paz, as he envelopes you in a big bear hug.

“Same, same to you,” you grin.

Due to the importance and scale of tonight’s event, Din’s help with security was required and you weren’t able to arrive together; in fact, you haven’t seen him all day, so by now, you’re vibrating with excitement to see him all dressed up, and for him to see you in your dress. Paz nudges you gently and whispers, “Turn right at the front desk and he’ll be in the big ballroom at the end of the hall.”

You give him a quick peck on the cheek as thanks, and tell him you’ll see him later as you head in. The lobby of the hotel is filled with people, all dressed beautifully and very on theme: the women in elegant and expensive looking white outfits and adorned with bright, sparkling accessories, the men all very dashing in white formalwear. You yourself have on a minimalist white satin gown, with a wide off the shoulder cuffed neckline; the pleating around the middle flatters your waistline before flaring out elegantly into a full skirt. The skirt is free flowing and light, concealing your favourite part: a mid-thigh slit that runs up the middle front; only on display when you’re moving swiftly, say, when dancing. It’s actually a wedding dress, but you won’t tell Din that. After describing to the girls what you were imagining for a dress, Rory had told you to just come down to her work as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which in retrospect, it probably was. No one aside from her closest friends and co-workers would be able to guess that the gruff and intimidating Rory was actually an incredibly successful bridal consultant, one of the most sought after in the city, in fact. Just from listening to you detail what you wanted once, she was able to pull the exact dress you’re wearing tonight from the rack, get you in for a fitting the next day, with the alterations done within the week. When you told Rory she was your hero, she had brushed it off like it was nothing, which to her it probably was; but to you, this dress is everything.

Din spots you before you spot him, such is the advantage of having the high ground. The ballroom is grand, easily accommodating a thousand people; half the room has been set-up with round dining tables with opulent centre pieces and fine dinnerware, ready for the guests to feast. The remaining half is left open for stand-up cocktails and schmoozing and for dancing later; at this end of the room there is live band playing light jazz at the base of a double staircase that leads up to the second floor. These symmetrical staircases connect at an elegantly railed landing that serves as the entry point for the second-floor mezzanine balcony that encircles and overlooks all of the ballroom below. It’s on this landing that Din currently stands, chatting with Boba, Fennec, Poe and his wife Lisa; Woves and Brian stand guard a little further behind, and although out of sight, Bo and Santos are also on the mezzanine, ensuring that no one tries to come in via the locked second floor entrance. From this vantage point, Boba can see everyone who comes in, who they’re with, and who they’re talking to, which is of course, the point.

When Din sees you, he feels the breath knocked out of his lungs by how stylish and stunning you look; to him, you're easily the most beautiful the woman in the room. He watches you stride effortlessly across the ballroom floor like you’re used to attending grand events every day, your dress floating around you in an almost dreamlike fashion, turning heads as you go by. The dress fits you perfectly. Your alluring curves accentuated by the garment’s simple design, enticing him even though you’re not showing much skin; save for the flash of leg that peeks out through a high slit that he’s only now noticing as you move through the crowd scanning for him. He can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Go to her and bring her up here with us,” says Boba, a knowing smile at seeing Din so awestruck. Din is gratified by Boba’s request, bringing a non-family member up to the private gathering normally a security risk he himself would advise against; Boba’s invitation is an extension of his trust and love for Din, and how eager he is to meet the woman Din is clearly besotted with. Just as Din heads down to collect you, you’re turning your pretty face up and smiling at the group. Poe has been waving enthusiastically, both of his arms gesturing wildly over his head, and you had caught the movement out of the corner of your eye, leading you to look to the top of the staircase. But it’s Din that holds your attention once you spot him.

He's wearing a white tuxedo jacket that’s fitted to his frame perfectly, sharply hugging his broad shoulders and hard chest. As dashing as this jacket and his pressed black dress pants make him look, it’s really his tousled curly hair falling across his forehead and slightly askew black bow tie that have you forgetting how to breathe for a moment. He’s a fucking dreamboat. When you make eye contact, a devastating smile spreads across his face, framed handsomely by his salt and pepper scruff. You don’t care how it looks to the dignified guests that are milling around the ballroom, you gather your skirts to pick the fabric off the ground and make hurry towards the staircase, so eager to be with him. Din sees you break out into a semi-jog and quickens his steps down the stairs to meet you, not wanting to wait a second longer than necessary to feel you in his arms.

You meet just two steps away from the bottom of the stairs, your arms flying up around Din’s neck, his hands meeting your waist; you’re lifted slightly as he gives you a little twirl before setting you down gently and pressing his lips to yours, “You look beautiful, pretty bird.” You beam at him and place both your hands on the sides of his face, running your thumbs through his facial hair that you love so much, “You’re a total knockout, Din.” He blushes a little at your compliment. Holding one of your hands above your head, he gives you a little spin, accompanied by a low whistle before offering up his arm for you to hold, “You’ve been invited up. Are you ready to meet Boba?”

A look of sheer panic flashes over your face before you take a deep breathe, compose yourself and take Din’s arm; he places his hand over yours and walks you up the stairs. You whisper, “What happens if he doesn’t like me? Do we have to break-up?”

“Yes,” Din whispers back, grinning.

You punch him in the shoulder with your free hand, and he laughs loudly but drops his voice to reassure you, “You don’t have anything to worry about, he’ll love you. I love you. Poe loves you. Look, he’s talking you up right now.”

You look up in horror, “I’m doomed.” Din leans over to kiss you and the two of you share a chuckle in this final private moment before reaching the landing.

Din makes the introductions and you shake hands with everyone except Poe who gives you a big hug; you try not to let his hug linger and give his wife what you hope is a friendly smile.

Boba is… impressive.

Size wise, he’s shorter than Din, roughly the same height as Poe, but he’s… solid. Built like a rugby player; you can tell he’s a wall of muscle under his tuxedo and he has the presence of a man who dominates and commands. More than that, he exudes a quiet but authoritative charisma and carries himself like a man that’s listened to. What strikes you the most though is the resting expression of his face. He seems weathered. Experienced. And his eyes are wise but not unkind. When his face finally changes, it’s to an expression of curiosity, which shouldn’t seem intimidating, but somehow is. Like he’s studying you, trying to find the answer to a question you didn't know was asked, and you somehow know that whatever answer he arrives at will be acknowledged as truth. The thing about Boba that makes you the most nervous though, is not any of this, and not even that he’s a mob boss (something you don’t think you really understand anyways), but it’s that he is a father-like figure to Din. This is a man who helped raised Din. He trusts Din and Din trusts him. He’s a big part of who Din is today. And yet, these very same thoughts are also the ones that calm you, and immediately endear him to you.

With a rush of warmth towards the man, you wish Boba a very happy birthday, and shyly produce a small gift box from your purse, no bigger than a ring box. Din is surprised, as is Boba; gifts aren’t expected from guests, but when they are given (and many do give), they’re usually opulent and extravagant, often monetary in nature. Din didn’t know you had prepared anything. Amused, Boba lifts the lid of the box and pulls out a small jade figurine.

“Din told me that you rescue pit bulls, so I had this carved from some jade that I’ve held on to for something special. Some say jade protects and heals, promotes balance and harmony, so I thought it might be nice for your birthday,” you finish, uncharacteristically timid. Din is looking at you with astonishment and something close to veneration.

Boba holds up the little dog figurine to the light and admires it; Fennec leans over to look at it too and says, almost with wonder, “Looks like Mochi.”

“It really does.”

You nod, “Din showed me a picture of your dogs. Mochi is the littlest one? The white one? I asked them to use him as reference.”

“Mochi is the smallest, but he’s been with me the longest,” says Boba fondly, “Took him out of a fighting pit myself. Scrappy little guy. Total love bug.”

Boba looks at the carving wistfully for a moment longer before placing it gently back in the small box and placing it in his pocket; his eyes are bit shiny when he holds out his arms to you, “Thank you, my dear. I love it.” You look over Boba’s shoulder as you embrace him and see Din smiling brightly at you. Boba invites you stay on the landing with the group, and you find yourself becoming more and more charmed by the man. He asks you about Al, Din clearly having shared some information about you, and you bond further over your mutual love of dogs. He takes great joy in pointing out interesting guests filtering into the ballroom below; you’re dizzy from the caliber of the guests: there’s the mayor and several city council members, the chief of police, bankers, partners from big law and financial firms (Do you see your boss’ boss’ boss?!), several members of the city’s professional baseball and hockey teams, and you think you even catch a glimpse of a few pop stars. Poe has stories about every notable guest and regales your group non-stop so you’re all laughing, even Lisa.

When it grows close to the dinner hour, Boba sees Paz standing at the foot of the stairs and announces that it’s time for him to go down and hobnob with a few guests before food service starts; as he, Poe, and Din move to descend to the main floor, Din places his hands gently on your face and leans in to tenderly kiss you, letting you know he has to go with Boba, and asks if you’re okay to stay here with Lisa. You nod, just now remembering that Din is working tonight.

You and Lisa chat amiably as the men weave through the crowd, Boba glad handling guests and making everyone feel welcome. When you feel like she’s warming up to you a bit, you tell Lisa how nervous you were to meet Boba, and her expression softens, “You’re doing totally fine, hun. Honestly, when he saw Din running down to you, it was a done deal. Boba loves Din like a son. Poe loves him like a brother. We haven’t seen Din this happy in a long time.” You smile gratefully at her, feeling yourself getting emotional. This cinches it for Lisa and she decides to take you under her wing, pointing out some of the other guests the men hadn’t mentioned earlier and giving you the tea on the whose who of the family, how they’re related, if they’re related, past and present petty feuds, and tidbits of any scandal. You’re having so much fun, the two of you gossiping and giggling like old schoolmates, you don’t even notice that Din has returned until his strong arms wrap around your waist and his scruff is tickling you behind your ear as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Come on, pretty bird, it’s time to eat.”

You turn to head down the stairs, but Din chuckles and takes your hand, leading you towards the mezzanine, “You eat up here with us, baby.”

Hidden second floor doors are opened to reveal several large but intimately set rooms, all interconnected, each hosting beautifully set dining tables and fully staffed bars. People that you assume are close friends of Boba or somehow part of the Fett family (you try very hard to correctly recall the details of everything Lisa shared with you) file in and greet each other like old friends before selecting their seats. Boba holds court at a large table at the centre of the room you’re in, laughing joyously and raising his glass over and over as Fennec sits poker-faced by his side. You sit at a table with Din, Poe, Lisa, Paz and a few guys that Poe seems to know well. Always appreciative of a familiar face, you wave when you see the other Mandos standing guard, or filtering in and out the rooms and between tables, and you hope they get a chance to eat too. The food is incredible, Boba truly spared no expense; delicious plates of appetizers, salad, pasta, grilled meats, seafood keep appearing, a never-ending parade of delicacies. When you see poor Jimmy practically drooling at the T-bone that Poe leaves untouched on his plate, you take to buttering some bread and slipping the rolls to the Mandos that walk by. Dinner is lovely, the company and conversation is lively; you really couldn’t feel more comfortable, especially with Din non-stop doting on you.

When the main dinner service is finished and the dessert carts start making their rounds, you hear the music downstairs kick up in volume and finally, the hungry Mandos take turns sitting down at your table shoveling food into their mouths from plates piled high. The atmosphere is relaxed, the mood of everyone in these private rooms is festive and merry, though lowkey compared to the wild sounds of partying you can hear floating up from below. Full and proud of yourself for having not spilled on your white dress, you’re tapping your spoon on the top of your crème brulé when you feel, rather than see Din stiffen next to you; the hand that had found the slit of your dress, pressing down on your thigh where it had been casually resting.

“Pretty bird, get down,” he whispers. To your eye, there’s nothing amiss with the scene, you see a few people standing around the room chatting, drinks in hand. Several people are at the bar, others lounging back in their chairs or milling in between rooms. Everyone is smiling and looking like they’re having a great time… wait, not everyone…

You slide off your chair down to your knees the second that Din requests, never questioning him, and he immediately yells, “GET DOWN!” Din and Paz stand in unison and move as one unit, years of partnership and trust kicking in as they wordlessly communicate where the danger is and what needs to be done. Every Mando in the room moves a split second later, following their fearless leaders in flawlessly executing maneuvers to identify, subdue, protect without any verbal commands to do so. Paz heads straight for Boba, with Jimmy, Woves and Bo following; the shooter gets one shot off just as Paz tackles him to the ground, puts up a futile effort to wrestle for the gun before the submitting to the Mandos that pin him to the ground. The second shooter doesn’t even get that far, not even raising his arm to shoot before Din takes him out from behind; Din’s elbows and fists make quick work of the intruder, bringing him crashing to his knees before Din’s strength forces him to release the gun with a yelp. Din swiftly kicks the gun away before restraining the gunman on the floor, knee on his back, arms held and secured. The whole thing is over in a manner of seconds, no one screams and the party downstairs doesn’t even register the gunshot, music still playing loud and uninterrupted.

Din looks over at you, panting as he pulls the offender to his feet; you give Din a little nod and what you hope are soft eyes to let him know you’re okay. You see the relief in his eyes before he starts to haul the struggling man out of the room, following Paz and the other Mandos. You’ve never seen him in action before and frankly… it was extraordinary. Sure, you’ve seen Din spar in the ring at the gym, but that was nothing compared to the display of speed, determination and force that you just saw. The way he knew exactly what to do and wasted no movement, every strike and application of strength purposeful and effective, and even the way he sensed that something was wrong before anyone else did, you can see why Din had been Boba’s top enforcer for so many years. You find yourself filled with awe and pride.

After helping Lisa to her feet and leaving her with an amped up Poe, you hurry over to Boba’s side when you see a red stain blossoming on his upper left shirt sleeve, “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, dear. It’s just a scratch,” he smiles when he sees your dubious look.

Fennec reappears with a first aid kit in her hand, but doesn’t sit or open the kit.

“You can go with the Mandos, I know you want to,” says Boba softly.

Fennec hesitates, eyes shifting between Boba’s arm and the doorway through which the Mandos had dragged the would-be assassins, torn.

You hold out your hands for the kit and volunteer supportively, “I can help.”

Boba gives Fennec a small nod, and she cautiously hands you the first aid kit before leaving to join the Mandos.

Opening the kit to see what you’re working with, you say to Boba with a little bit of embarrassment, “I think we’ll have to get that arm out of your shirt.”

To your surprise, Boba nods and then proceeds to rip the sleeve clean off of his shirt with his other hand, leaving his bleeding arm bare.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to do it,” you chuckle. Finding an unused dinner napkin still folded in its pretty crown shape, you wet it with water from the pitcher on the table. “I’m just going to clean away all the blood first, sorry if it stings,” you say as you hold up the cloth to Boba’s arm.

“No worries, darling girl. I’ve had worse.”

“Oh, I bet. Are people always trying to kill you?” you ask in what you hope is a teasing voice.

“Probably. But the Mandos don’t let usually them get this close,” ponders Boba, “Din and Paz have trained them very well.” You smile at this, and when Boba sees the proud look you have on your face, he smiles back too, “Whoever did this took advantage of the party, the crowd, everyone having a good time.” You nod as you lean back to survey the wound now that all the excess blood has been cleaned off. It’s not too bad, a graze, really. A deep graze, but it doesn’t look like it needs stitches. It needs a good cleaning, some pressure and then you think a thick covering of gauze should stop it from bleeding through to Boba’s white dinner jacket. You let Boba know the game plan as you open an antiseptic wipe, “This is going to sting for sure.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you. You’re quite adept at this. Does Din have you stitch him up?”

Lightly laughing, you shake your head, “No, he doesn’t really like me to see him hurt. I think he thinks I have a tender heart.”

Nodding with an air of understanding, Boba says gently, “I think you do. That’s what makes you a good match for the boy. He doesn’t look it, but Din has a tender heart, too.”

You look up at him and beam at that, “He really does. I feel like he’s always taking care of other people. He takes such good care of me. I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” You finish with the wipe and open a large-size sterile gauze pad to place over the wound, “Put some pressure on that please.”

While you wait for the bleeding to stop, you look around the room. It’s fairly empty now; most of the Mandos left earlier of course, leaving only a few still standing guard (Brian, Woves, Iggy), but the remainder of the guests seemed to have filtered out as well, putting some distance between themselves and the incident, rejoining the party that you can hear is still in full swing.

“Do you really think I’m a good match for Din?” You’re not sure why you’re asking a man you barely know for his opinion on your relationship, except that you know this man means a great deal to the man that you love.

Boba looks thoughtful at your question, “Din’s a natural leader, he’s strategic, good at understanding the nature of people and seeing the big picture. In our line of business, this can be an asset but also spell trouble, or at least lead to people handling power very poorly. But not Din, he never sought power. Too selfless. He’s always put family first, and understood that being the head of the pack just means taking care of the pack. Not a lot of men would have given up their position in an organization like ours to take care of their father, but for Din it was a no brainer – he’s always taking care of others."

"His father and I used to always worry if it was possible for Din to meet someone who was just as selfless as him, who would take care of him equally and ease some of the burden he takes upon himself being responsible for so many others – or if he would ultimately settle for quite happily taking care of his partner like he does so many others.”

You can’t help it, a few tears prick the corner of your eyes. Yes, Boba is describing your Din to a T; your Din, always being the giver, the caretaker, the protector, and not expecting or requiring the same treatment back. A tear escapes and rolls down your face and you look down to brush it away quickly under the guise of looking through the first aid kit for the gauze wrap.

When you look back at Boba to remove his hand from his wound, he’s smiling at you and your poor attempt to conceal your emotions, “Yes, I think you’re the former. Yes, I think you’re a good match for him.”

Welp, that does it. Your tears spill over, fast and overflowing so that you cannot wipe them away quickly enough while pressing a new pad to the wound and wrapping it to Boba’s arm with the gauze roll. So you don’t. You just smile softly while focusing your attention on dressing Boba’s wound, letting the tears slow and fall more gently down your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say in a quiet voice.

“No, thank you,” returns the older man, just as quietly and you know he means for more than bandaging him up.

You’re just securing the ends of the gauze when Din bursts back into the room; he must have been expecting a different scene than what he comes upon, because he instantly relaxes when he takes in the quiet room, only to become alarmed at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks.

“What’s the matter, pretty bird?” Din looks so concerned as he kneels down beside you, you can’t help as a few more tears fall at the sight of him being so caring and protective, exemplifying what you and Boba had just been discussing. You try to give him a reassuring smile, “Everything is fine. Well maybe not Boba’s arm, but it should be soon.” Din looks up to find the mob boss giving him a similar smile, “What do you have for me?”

Din stands up and leans in to whisper into Boba’s ear. You don’t hear what he says, but you catch Boba muttering, “Crymorah?” while furrowing his brow in confusion. Din steps back when he’s done, “Fennec’s still in there. They’re ready for you.”

Boba gets up and you do as well, instinctively you grab his tuxedo jacket from the back of his chair and hold it up for him; he slips it on easily, though you can tell it’s not without some pain.

He pulls his lapels taught and puffs his chests out, looking at you, “How do I look, my dear?”

He’s trying to make you laugh, and it’s working, “Absolutely ferocious. Blood-thirsty. Not at all shot.” Your eyes shining with mischief.

“Perfect.” Boba gives your arm a little squeeze, then nods to Din, “You two go back and enjoy the remainder of the party. Keep an eye on the perimeter, and let anyone know who’s asking that I’ll be out to rejoin the party in 20 minutes. And above all… have fun.” After Boba exits with Woves and Brian, Din sweeps you up into his arms and rests his head against your forehead, “Are you really okay, baby? Why are you crying?”

You tell the truth, “Boba and I were just talking about what a good guy you are.”

“A mob boss telling my girlfriend that his former head enforcer is a good guy? I don’t know if that’s a reliable source,” jokes Din.

“I dunno,” you say, unable to bite back a grin, “he seems like one of those trustworthy mob bosses.”

“You like him,” Din marvels.

“I do. He’s kind. Like you,” you smile adoringly up at Din as the two of you start to head back to the party.

Before you descend the stairs, Din turns you towards him, placing his hands affectionately on either side of your face and leans in so you can hear him over the music, “Pretty bird, how are you feeling about what happened? I know you must have been scared.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head up for a kiss, which Din happily obliges. When you open your eyes, you’re nothing but honest, “I think I should have been. But I wasn’t really. You told me to get down, you took care of me and even though I didn’t know what was happening, I knew I was safe because you were there. Din. You were incredible. How did you move so fast? And you took care of that guy like it was nothing. He never even stood a chance.”

Din blushes at your praise, and rubs his hand on the back of his neck, bashful, “Was lucky. Don’t move as fast as I used to.”

You won’t let him have any of that, “Luck had nothing to do with it. You were in total control of the situation the moment you sensed something was up. You were… magnificent, Din.” You exhale and look at him with admiration your eyes. Din feels overcome, your praise means everything – even though you had an idea of what he did as a Mando, he had secretly feared that you would recoil from the type of violence he saw regularly if you were to ever encounter it yourself, or worse, recoil from him if you saw him inflict it. But here you are, telling him he makes you feel safe and not letting him brush over his capabilities and skill. He pulls you in for a deep kiss, not ever wanting to part his lips from yours, imploring you to open your mouth to his so he can show his appreciation for you, and how you understand and love all of him, through the way his tongue worships you.

*Woooooooooo!!*

Breaking apart, you look down to see Poe and Lisa grinning up at you from the bottom of the stairs, Poe cheering and Lisa waving her hands at the two of you to come down and join the party. Laughing, you and Din readily join in the fun and dance to the fast tempo number and the next and next, the incident upstairs pushed to the back of your mind.

Later, after Boba has come down to rejoin the party, and Fennec and the Mandos having reappeared to mill around the perimeter of the ballroom, you sway in Din’s arms to a slow song, tired; Din whispers in your ear, “See, told you Boba would love you. Everyone loves you.”

“Not everyone,” you murmur.

“Oh really? Name one person who doesn’t like you.”

“Ummm… that guy in the grey suit who spilled coffee all over himself at the coffeeshop the day we met.”

“Hmmm yeah, ok, that guy. You know, if I ever see that guy again…”

You rest your chin on his chest and look up at Din, eyes twinkling.

“…I’m going to buy him a coffee and give him the biggest thank you. If it wasn’t for him, we might not have ever met.”

Snuggling back into his chest, you nod, “If you can catch him. He’d probably run, road runner style if he ever saw you again.”

“Was I very scary that day?”

“A beast. Terrifying. A Mythosaur come to life,” you chide, but soften at Din’s imploring face, “but not to me. I knew immediately I was safer with you there, even though I didn’t know you yet. I never told you that?”

“Never. I’m glad you felt that way. I’m always going to keep you safe, pretty bird. I love you so much.”

“I know, Din. Love you, too.” You close your eyes and nestle back into his chest, enjoying the music and the strong flex of the arms holding you.

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