Hard Edges || Mandalorian X Reader

|12| Red

Din hasn't left the ship since Nevarro. It's been two weeks, you know he's been stalling, you know he's behind schedule.

The air in the ship has changed, you feel him tied so much more to you - but at the same time never more far away. When he's not burying himself in you like yours is the only air he can breathe, he is totally silent.

Admittedly, you have enjoyed watching him pushing his training all shirtless and sweaty, or sitting cross legged stripping and cleaning his weapons with a meditative concentration. What you don't like is the nights - when he startles awake, cold sweat beading on his skin.

But now every tedious, menial task on the ship that could be drummed up is completed. Every weapon in the armoury is pristine. He has no reason to prolong his departure.

You were vaguely aware of the sounds of him gearing up while in your post-sex sleepy haze - but now he has been pacing the hull like a lion in a cage for hours.

You let out a heavy sigh, and scoot out of bed, you can just barely make out his silhouette as the various console lights bounce off his armour.

"Just go." Your voice barely audible stops him in his tracks. "Seal the doors if you have to. Go catch him." You see his shoulders rise and his helmet tips back. "Go catch him, and come back to us." He stands there, frozen.

"This is the way." You whisper, unsure.

He slowly turns his head to look at you, he says nothing. He just nods and walks off the ship sealing the doors behind him.

——————————

Din steps into the dark, cold air. The sound of the shuttle doors sealing behind him, sealing his chest tight with fear. He shakes his head and tries to focus, looking down at the tracker on his belt.

Go catch him, and come back to us.

Your words drive him forward into the night towards the small settlement.

The first drops of rain begin to fall as Din reaches the edge of the small town. A few citizens are mulling about in the streets, the scurry along at the sight of him.

Din strolls casually through the town and up to the local cantina where he takes a booth at the back corner. He lets the persistent waitress bring him a spotchka even though they both know he's not going to drink it.

He watches everything that happens for hours. The men trying to take women home, mostly failing. The illegal gambling. The not very subtle shady business dealings. He notes who notices him, who doesn't, who pretends not to and who is unable to control to impulse to keep looking over. He watches how the waitresses interact with each table - the ones they are flirty with, friendly to, rude to, or downright avoid.

Din settles in to the focus of the hunt. Allowing his previous worries to fall to the back of his mind. He focuses on one patron in particular. A small Twi'lek man who, when he catches a glimpse of the Mandalorian in the corner, just non-chalantly finishes his drink, leaves a ridiculously generous tip and walks outside. Din waits for a minute and then in the same fashion leaves a generous tip on the table and stalks out of the bar.

Din flicks a switch on his vambrace and his visor lights up the red thermal imprints of footprints in the street. He quickly finds the ones he is looking for and set off. He follows the path as it twists and turns through sidestreets all the way to the edge of town. There he finds his target, facing the moonlit forest.

"This it then?" The man asks.

"Looks like." Din replies.

"Warm or cold?" The man sounds resolved as he turns to face Din and draws a blaster from his waist band.

"Guess that's up to you." Din says, placing a hand on his blaster.

They stand there as the target weighs his options, conceding he tosses his blaster between them and raises his hands in surrender. Din slowly walks over, picking the blaster up and tucking it into his own waistband. He removes his binders from his belt and grabs the man by the wrist.

In a flurry of motion the man spins in Dins grip, flailing as Din tries to corral his limbs. For a just a split second the image of you waiting on the ship flashes in Din's mind - and in the moment the target manages to free himself and he lands hit right into Dins flank. The force of it shocks din as the air whooshes from his chest and he falters; allowing the man to break from his grip and start to run. He only gets a few paces away before Din fires his whip cord and catches him by the neck and flinging him onto his back with a thud.

Din stands towering over the target, blaster trained on him. "No! No! Stop! Warm! I choose warm! I'll go with you" the target begs. He binds him and wrestles the man up - pushing him roughly towards the ship.

Din beings to relax as he sees the distant shine of the moonlight and rain reflecting off The Crest - but as it draws closer Din's vision begins to throb and a dull heat starts to work its way through the numbness in his side. He reaches down and places his hand over the source of the pain, and when he removes it his glove is stained bright red.

"Shit."