𝟮𝟮

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𝗦𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗘

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𝗦𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗘

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          "Ouch... Ouch! Ouch, watch it!" Myrah snapped and ripped her arm away from the Mandalorian. Her bicep was red and crusted in dried blood. 

          "If you had told me about it sooner, we wouldn't have this problem." He grumbled under his breath as he tried to pull the strings of her shirt that stuck to the somewhat fresh wound. 

          She shrugged and looked down at the cut on her arm. It was bright and swollen, but it wasn't too deep. All it needed was a good cleaning and bandage. She couldn't figure out why he was so upset about it.

          "Well, we had more pressing matters at the time. You know, dealing with Fennec and all."

          "So this was when we got knocked off the bike?" He sat back on the stool he had placed next to the cot where Myrah sat. "We could have wrapped it."

          "But if I had told you back then," she grabbed his hand and pulled it from her arm, "we wouldn't get to play medic right now." She sent him a playful wink and her signature charming grin that made his heart beat faster.

          He sighed and pulled his hand away, trying to calm the rapid pulsing of his heart. "Take off your jacket."

          "Woah!" She raised her hands in the air and let out an innocent giggle. "You could at least take me to dinner first."

          "Shut up and take off the jacket." He snapped.

          "Pushy, much?" She rolled her eyes and peeled off her jacket to reveal the black long-sleeve she wore beneath it. Din tilted his head in judgement and crossed his arms over his chest. "What? You want me to take this off too?"

          "It's that or cut the sleeve off." He paused. "How many layers do you have?"

          She shrugged and brought her hands to the bottom of her top, starting to strip it from her body. Din's hands quickly caught hers and pulled the shirt back down to hide her stomach.

          "We should just cut the sleeve." His face began to warm and flush red beneath the helmet.

          "Don't want to see me shirtless, Din?" She drew out the name, the corners of her lips quirking up.

          "Stop." He growled and grabbed the knife from his boot, quickly slicing the sleeve off her shirt.

          Her face contorted into one of disgust. "When was the last time you cleaned that? Didn't you use it on the mudhorn?"

          "Yup." He answered simply and grabbed a few items from the medic box, setting them next to her on the small bed.

          "Ew." She shuddered and watched him work. "You know, maybe it would be easier if you didn't have those beefy gloves." His head snapped to hers in a way that she couldn't interpret. "What? It's not against the code. Don't forget that I know the rules too."

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