Hard Edges || Mandalorian X Reader

"If you're going to marry me, you have to become a Mandalorian."

The words bounce around in the dark, your brain scrambling to process them. You stare and blink at where you can barely make out Dins outline, unable to formulate a thought.

If I'm going to what?!?

He doesn't seem to think he's said anything monumental, he gives your nose a boop and says "come on, let's go" and turns on his heels, walking off towards the fresher.

Finally some neurons start firing and you will your feet forward, trying your best not to stumble in the pitch black. "Din." You call after him. He just answers with a 'hmm?' as you hear him digging in the cabinet, presumably for towels.

"I'm sorry, I think I'm losing my mind."

"That's a shame, I liked it." He laughs as he turns the water on.

"Seriously, Din." You make it through the doorway, steam already clinging to your skin. "Did you just— I'm sorry. If I'm going to what?"

"If you're going to marry me-"

"I heard you."

"Then why did you ask?"

"What makes you think I am going to marry you?" You cross your arms in protest of his presumption.

His voice drops, that dark tone that melts right to the center of you. "What makes you think you won't?"

"Well. I—- first of all... I- you-"

"Go on." He croons, his fingers brushing your hair over your shoulder.

"I mean that's a hell of a way to ask." You snark.

"I wasn't asking."

"Someone is mighty sure of-" Din steps into you, suddenly the fresher room feels very small, and very warm.

"You love me." He brushes the hair off your other shoulder. "And I you." You swallow dryly as his both hands trail across your collar bone. "By Creed, which you insisted I keep, only two shall know me, know my face. My Armorer." He trails the backs of his fingers up your neck.
"And my Wife."

"I didn't..."

"I know." He lets out a long breath. His hands once again cup your face, thumbs caressing the corners of your lips. "Listen, Ner Cyar'ika. Darling. My Love. If you don't want this tell me now. I will continue how we are. If you want me to leave my path, I'll do that too. I'll turn the light on right now, we will know each other creed or no creed. If you want to share my Creed, I will share it with you. I will present you to my Armorer and I will train you, and we will do it properly. None of that matters to me. I know the only thing that does. I know what I want. It's you. In any way you will have me. If you will have me. Just tell me what you want. Command me and I will make it so."

You expect your head to spin again, to cycle through the options, weighing your choices - but it doesn't. Because you realize there is only one choice. Only one thing you want. Only one path to walk. You take Din's hands in yours, pressing his knuckles to your lips. "Then I suppose we should start training."

He presses his forehead to yours and you can hear the smile on his lips, "This is The Way."

You smile back, a sense of rightness settling into your chest as you echo him, "This is The Way."

After a few moments in embrace, he pulls away. Guiding you into the water he chuckles, "see, told ya you were going to."

Your eyes almost roll out the back of your head. "Oh Mister know it all, great prophet Din Djarin predicts the future I see."

He laughs, open and boisterous - your heart swells at the sound, which is a bit annoying at the moment. "Darling, you have no idea."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Huff at him as he begins to lather you, massaging your aching muscles. It makes it hard to keep pretending to be annoyed with him.

"You'll see."

And he says nothing else as he meticulously massages out every knot and every tight muscle, washing you as he goes. You almost melt as he tips your head back, massaging shampoo into your scalp. Din goes through the now familiar motions, methodically caring for you. Applying conditioner and raking his fingers through your ends until there are no tangles. Gently rinsing and wringing out your hair. Each action brings warmth to you. He then quickly washes himself before shutting off the water. You reach for a towel but he snatches it from your hands. You giggle at him as he (far too thoroughly in some places) rubs and pats you dry with it before wrapping it around you and tucking it secure. He then grabs a smaller towel and squeezes out the last of the water from your hair. When he's done he drapes it over the top of your head and starts rubbing it erratically like you would to dry a dog. You make a gods awful snorting laugh as you snatch the towel from him, as he laughs down at you, grabbing his own towel and patting himself dry before wrapping it around his waist.

You smile into the dark, the moment so quiet, so normal - and wonder what it will be like to have these moments in the light like everyone else. To see if his face turns stern when he concentrates on your tangles, how his skin will crinkle around his eyes when he laughs. To see him not as a shadow in the dark, or a statue of Beskar - but as a man, flesh and blood in the light. To see him with your eyes the way you do with your heart.

You don't even realize Din has stilled. "What?" He asks, still half a laugh in his tone.

"Nothing, just thinking."

"About what?"

You laugh, walking out the door to find your training clothes, "How disappointed I'll be if you don't have ears like Grogu."