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thefrogdalorian · 3 months

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The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Five

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count: 13,028 (!!) Rating: General Summary: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar... Content Warnings: Reader deals with some depressing thoughts and has a panic attack. Past sexual harassment of reader is mentioned but not specified or described in detail. Also I got a bit political with this one in terms of being a British Museum hater, but not sure that should be a warning when it's a pretty logical train of thought. Author's Note: Wow. This was an absolute MONSTER of a chapter and now over a third of the total word count so far! I have to give massive thanks to my beta @suresnips for making it through such a long chapter. My brain had melted after editing it and your feedback helped so much! As you read, you'll understand why it was so long. I knew it was going to be long when I came to edit it yesterday as it was already approx. 6k. Well, I more than doubled that, ha. I don't know if it's obvious but I'm a HUGE history nerd. However, I've only been to the British Museum once (for like an hour), and I was so disappointed with it. It truly is just full of things we looted and it did not me feel an ounce of patriotism, I was pretty disgusted. So I used reader as a mouthpiece for me! Also not sure if anyone remembers the absolute legend(s) who stole things from the museum but perhaps in this universe, it was our dear reader [for legal reasons this is a joke]. All the exhibits mentioned are real things in the collection and I'll link some information about them if anyone is curious: The Sutton Hoo helmet, Dürer's Rhinoceros, Lewis chessmen, Rosetta Stone Well, that's enough nerdiness for one A/N. Really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you for reading and for all the kind words so far, it means the world to meeeeeee!! If you're enjoying it, please don't be shy! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)

5. He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]

The first few days back in your routine after the convention had ended and Ria had gone home had been so desolate and depressing that it was difficult to make it through the day without bursting into tears. Real life could not compare to how incredible ForceCon had been. It was as though, for that long weekend, you had left the real world and inhabited the Star Wars galaxy. You wanted to stay there forever. Until you had been forced back down to earth with a devastating thud once the Dockside Convention Centre’s doors had closed for the final time on Monday afternoon.

You were grieving so many different aspects of the entire experience. You missed everything. Primarily, of course, you missed your best friend who was now a continent away, separated from you by an entire ocean. But you also missed the electric atmosphere that came with knowing everyone, no matter their age or where they came from, was there for one reason and had been united by their passion for the same thing as you. It was an incredibly special feeling to know that you were ultimately united with everyone you interacted with through your shared love of Star Wars. You felt as though you had taken for granted the amazing talks and stalls, just hearing people discuss their passions had been enthralling. And of course, you missed the cosplays. Not walking past multiple incredible Mandos every day was taking some getting used to. Being back in the real world was disappointing, uninspiring and lonely, and you were thoroughly miserable.

Things were not getting any easier as each day this week had seemed harder than the last. Mercifully, though, it was finally Friday and you only had a few more hours to keep it together at work before you would have an entire weekend to yourself that would consist of just you, your comfiest clothes and endless episodes of The Mandalorian. You had already rewatched it twice through this week, the series you so adored had once again been a crutch in your most desperate hour of need. Watching Mando traverse the galaxy had once again helped you to present to the world as a functioning human being, despite how awful you had felt every day.

Usually, you at least made it back home first before you completely fell apart and the weight of your emotions became too much for you to bear. Today, however, you had been unsuccessful in managing to keep a lid on your emotions and had practically sprinted to your favoured hiding spot – a bathroom in a back corner of the third floor – to finally fall apart. You felt slightly pathetic as you sat on the toilet and stared at the lockscreen of your phone, feeling the hot tears scorch your cheeks. It was the photo you had taken with the incredibly realistic Mandalorian cosplayer that you were sure was the same one from the panel. He had been incredibly kind, offering to take another photo with you, despite how flustered you were. You felt like you had embarrassed yourself in front of him, babbling about a cosplay competition that he was likely fully aware of, given how incredible his costume was. You were stunned when he stopped you from walking away so that he could pose properly and Ria could snap an even better photo of you. It was an incredibly kind gesture from a stranger and was something you could have imagined Mando himself doing in the show. As well as how realistic the cosplay was and the way he had moved that sent your pulse racing, the man had even sounded like Mando. The resemblance was truly uncanny.

As you sat there, clutching your phone, you were contemplating texting Ria. You knew that she would always have a comforting word of advice for you. But you also knew she was thousands of miles away, dealing with returning to work herself and overcoming jet lag. You didn’t want to bother her, so you took deep breaths and squeezed your eyes shut as you attempted to regain your composure so that you were in a position to face the world again. You thought back to the sequence of events that explained how you found yourself locked in a deserted toilet in the back corner of the offices of the museum, attempting to compose yourself before you faced the world once again.

It had been an awful day and you briefly wondered if you were in fact cursed. The weather had been miserable and rainy that morning, you were greeted with grey skies as you stepped out of your flat. You had learnt from your mishap the previous week though, and actually remembered to wear a coat. But that was where things stopped going right for you. Your tube line had been slightly delayed, resulting in it being even more crowded than usual when one arrived and you eventually boarded. The walk to work had been uneventful, aside from being slightly frustrated by the miserable British weather, but at least you had remembered your headphones so the soothing sounds of the Mando soundtrack could transport you to a distant galaxy.

You arrived at work, grumbling as you removed your headphones and were forced to face the real world. Ever since you walked through the ornate doors into the beautiful old building that you worked in, it felt as though everyone you encountered there had been conspiring against you to make your day as hellish as possible. It was one thing after another and before you knew it, you were at breaking point.

It seemed that today, everything had gone poorly. Your coworker, Tom, whom you had always had pleasant – if a little one-dimensional – chats about The Mandalorian with, was being a little off about your attendance at the con. When you arrived at the office, he approached your desk and asked you questions about the con and the jacket you had made, having seen it on your Instagram. At first, he had seemed genuinely interested but before long they veered into the condescending and that, in addition to the smug smirk on his face, made you feel intensely self-conscious. It reminded you of when the popular kids at High School would pick on the uncool kids, like you, for their enjoyment. As though your increasing uncomfortableness was a game to them. Tom's behaviour transported you back through the years to emotions that you never wanted to visit. Luckily, unlike in High School, this time you had somewhat stood up for yourself and asked him to leave you alone so that you could focus on your work.

After successfully getting Tom to leave you alone, there were various tasks to be completed. You had taken two days of vacation time for the con and despite how little you had missed, it still meant there was inevitably a backlog to catch up on. It meant communicating with annoying co-workers. After a weekend surrounded by people who just got you in the way people at the con had, it was incredibly frustrating to be back amongst ‘normal,’ people.

Unsurprisingly, you had found that you were able to hold more conversations with people when you were all there for a common reason. It was less daunting somehow, if the conversation fizzled out you had Star Wars to lean back on. Now, though, there was none of that. You had to make small talk with real people. Deal with their needs. Day after day. Working in a museum had been your dream job throughout High School and University. You had lofty dreams of curating your own exhibitions. An ambition that was, as yet, to be realised. Though you would not give up.

Instead of designing exhibitions, you had found yourself giving the occasional tours to school children and manning the information desk for any visitor questions. It was a more people-facing job than you had intended. Which was a shame because you loved the collection, but you hated people. You could stand for hours and talk about the intricacies of an Anglo-Saxon helmet, but making small talk with visitors was beyond you.

Which is why you found the thought of delivering an intimate guided tour to a rich asshole tonight deeply upsetting, despite the brave face you had attempted to put on when your manager had delivered the distressing news.

“We need you to stay late tonight. A client has booked an after-hours visit.” Julie, your manager informed you when you were taking your first break of the day in the staff canteen.

“Who are they? Rich? Famous? Single?” you replied jokingly. It had been a humorous reflex, designed to hide your true feelings about the situation. You were proud of yourself, despite the buzzing that you suddenly felt rising in your head.

Julie just rolled her eyes and smiled. She was well used to your sense of humour by now, she knew you weren’t seriously going to attempt to start anything inappropriate with the visitor. Besides, most of the time you hated them and reverted to insulting them in ways too subtle for them to grasp.

“Very funny,” Julie deadpanned. “You can leave to get some food and have a break after your shift, but be back here and ready to meet him at six.”

“Okay,” You sighed and nodded slightly. There was no point in getting mad at Julie, you knew these kinds of things were not her decision but came from the museum higher-ups who scheduled such tours and requested certain employees. You knew you should see it as a compliment that you were frequently requested, but instead, you saw it as a burden and something to be resented rather than celebrated.

Then Julie gave you a name – it was Dan or something? You couldn’t even remember – but your head was spinning with too many thoughts and trying to process the news, to be in a position to absorb any of the information your manager was telling you.

After Julie had finished speaking, you promptly excused yourself from the canteen and ran to your preferred hiding place when the world got too much – an old, enormous single toilet tucked away behind a staircase on the third floor, where no one ever bothered to go. There were far more conveniently situated toilets throughout the building than this particular one, with its heavy wooden black door, complete with brass handle, and plumbing that did not appear to have been updated since the Victorian Era.

But for you, it was a haven. A perfect place to deal with your emotions towards the whole situation. You were more than a little frustrated at the news, which was how you had probably come across to Julie. In fact, as you sat there in the toilet fighting back tears, you would say that you were devastated. It was so cruel; the one thing that had been keeping you going, the thought of comfortable clothes and Mando, something so simple, had almost been in your grasp. You could almost feel the soft blankets that you would burrow yourself underneath on your sofa, only to hear that for reasons beyond your control, you were going to have to wait even longer. It all felt so unfair.

All you had wanted to do after such a difficult week was return home, change into comfortable pyjamas and sloth out on the couch in front of an episode of The Mandalorian. Instead, you had to babysit some rich asshole who was inconsiderate enough to hire out an entire museum like this, without any care whatsoever for the workers’ wellbeing. I mean, if it was Beyoncé or someone, you would understand their need for privacy. But some random guy you had never heard of, an absolute Z-lister? Well, you hadn’t met him yet, but you already thought that he was pathetic and selfish.

The whole system was inherently unjust. These private visits forced museum staff, who were barely on a salary above minimum wage, to stay behind after hours just to accommodate their whims. It sickened you to think about the sums of money that would be exchanged. Dan Nobody – or whatever his name was – was throwing tens of thousands of pounds at the museum to accommodate his enormous ego, all the while you would never see a penny of. It boiled your blood with how unfair it all was.

With your desolation now replaced with defiance, you made your way back to your office to continue the work that you desperately needed to catch up on. You sighed as your footsteps echoed through the wide corridors of the stunning old building. It was an absolute honour to work in such a beautiful place where history surrounded you and you knew how fortunate you were in that sense. But it would be a lie to say that you were completely happy with the realities of working for such an institution. As much as excitement had fuelled your first few months working here… now, disillusionment lingered around every corner. Gone was the bright-eyed, enthusiastic girl who had strolled in here straight out of University, feeling as though the world was at her feet because she had just prevailed during a tough application process and would now have the opportunity to work with the largest permanent collection of any museum in the entire world. Instead, she had been replaced with a more cynical woman who felt disenchanted by the surroundings which had once excited her so deeply.

After returning to your office, you spent the rest of your day busy catching up with your work, albeit with a knot of dread in your stomach about the prospect of having to put on a smile and greet yet another out-of-touch, obscenely wealthy man. You really hoped he wasn’t another creep. Unfortunately, you had encountered more than enough of them for one lifetime. Inevitably, every few months, some minor royal or businessman with more money than sense would book out your museum and due to your knowledge and enthusiasm, you were usually selected to be their guide. You had long suspected it was certain other traits which made you a desirable tour guide, though. For instance, you thought it strange that your colleague Tom never got chosen for the tours despite the fact the two of you had started at the museum at a similar time, so had a similar position and level of experience. But Tom was never selected, and neither were pretty much any of your male colleagues. No, it always seemed to be the younger female workers who were chosen to show the wealthy men around the museum.

You loathed every single last one of them. You had never met a single one who you didn’t want to throttle within approximately five seconds of meeting them. You knew whenever you walked up to them what you were in store for, as they leered at you with their toothy grins and always pulled you in for a hug and kiss on both cheeks. It made you feel like just another exhibit for them to gawk at, not the intensely knowledgeable human being that you were. They always dressed the same way too, in ghastly chinos and loafers. They selected the kinds of outfits that made sure any onlooker could tell just by how they dressed, the extent of their personal fortunes. You hated every single last one of them.

It felt so wrong to you that these people – who probably had some connection, not too far back in their family tree, to the atrocities that led to the museum possessing such an extensive collection in the first place – could pay obscene amounts of money to close off an entire museum that was usually free to enter. That money would be much better spent in other places. And every single last one of them had always treated the young female staff as though they were a package deal. They seemed to have the impression that the money they had spent entitled them to sexually harass the staff. So, you weren’t exactly looking forward to when six o’clock rolled around and you would have to endure another creep.

For the rest of the day, you were somewhat grateful that you had things to catch up on. Oh sure, it was dull archival work with difficult colleagues, but it was better than having too much time to think about the horrors that awaited you in the form of a golden pinky-ring-wearing asshole at the end of the day. Plus, it gave you a chance to charge your social battery in preparation for the tour that night.

But the end of your shift at five finally rolled around and you had an hour to grab some food after the museum shut and eat before you had to meet the client at six. You thought, bitterly, as you marched down the steps that at the same time you would have to be entertaining a rich creep, you could have been well on your way home to sprawl out on the sofa in front of The Mandalorian. Unfortunately, the universe was really out to get you today. Mando would have to wait.

As you stood inside the noodle shop around the corner from the museum, waiting for your order to be freshly cooked by the friendly owner who knew your order off by heart by now – such was the frequency of your trips here – you took your phone out of your pocket to message Ria. You hadn’t heard from her all day and you just wanted to vent to her, not expecting her to reply immediately as although it was early afternoon for her and you were sure she’d be awake, she would still be adjusting to jet lag after flying over to London for the convention and probably working herself.

[ilovemando] 17:16 ugh ria i have to work late tonight. some rich asshole has booked out the museum for a private tour

Fortunately, the ellipses popped up to indicate that Ria was typing an immediate reply. You breathed a sigh of relief, absolutely thrilled that you had some virtual company in your hour of need.

[thisistheslay] 17:17: Nooooo bestie I’m so sorry! Do you get paid overtime?

[ilovemando] 17:18: yeah but that’s not the point. i just want to go home and watch my comfort episode on the couch. post-con depression is hitting hard :(

[thisistheslay] 17:18: Don’t worry, The Foundlings will still be waiting for you when you get back! I’m sure seeing Mando protecting those kids will cheer you up, even if it’s the thousandth time you’ve seen it!

You began to tap out a reply, but your order number was called before you could send the message. After grabbing your bag of noodles, you tapped out a one-handed reply:

[ilovemando] 17:26: soz was collecting my noodles lmao. but ur right i guess. i just want to watch it NOW. i wanna see my man kicking butt to protect a class of Mandalorian kids, not deal with some old creepy rich guy who thinks renting out the museum also entitles him to sexually harass me. ugh. Mando wouldn’t treat me like that!! sorry for the rant. hope ur jet lag is getting better. miss u :(((

[thisistheslay] 17:29: Awww that sounds awful. I wish I could be there for you and give you a big hug. Let me know how it goes, yeah? You can call me when you’re done on the way home if you want to rant. I’ll be thinking of you. I love you, you got this! <3

[ilovemando] 17:21: thanks ria. love you too <3

After reading and replying to Ria’s soothing message, you put your phone away as you walked back to the museum. You wanted some peace and quiet and sought out one of the break rooms to eat your food in and mentally prepare for the evening ahead. Fortunately, the museum had almost entirely cleared out of both visitors and staff by the time you made it back and you were able to enjoy your food in peace.

Ria’s words had definitely comforted you, but your heart ached at how much you missed her. You knew that you were incredibly lucky to have a friendship like the one you shared, even if it meant that you couldn’t always be physically close to her. Remembering how you had sobbed on the platform before you put her on the tube to the airport as you were forced to say goodbye almost made you cry again. Then, Ria hit you with a lovely quote: “How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” It had made you cry harder, but when she revealed it was borrowed from Winnie the Pooh, your tears had turned to full-on laughter. Trust Ria to pull that one out at that moment!

You smiled at that memory. At her sense of humour and how she always seemed to know the right words to say to you at precisely the right time. She was always there to build you up when you were feeling down, and boost your confidence when you needed it and in happier times, she was there to share in them too. All that, despite the distance. You missed her terribly. In some ways, you felt as though it might have been easier if your online friendship did not translate to the real world and things could have just fizzled out instead. Then again, you couldn’t imagine your life without Ria in it. Despite the distance, at least you could keep in regular contact thanks to the power of the internet. You were so grateful that she had been there to help talk you through the nervousness you felt about the upcoming guided tour.

You mindlessly scrolled through various social media apps on your phone as you watched the minutes tick by towards six p.m., looking at various pictures of Mando in an attempt to steady your nerves. You looked through all the messages that you had missed in the group chat, too. Although the second season of The Mandalorian had only finished airing in January, it appeared from various rumours that the third season was already in production. The details were always scant and anyone with any meaningful involvement in it was surely sworn to secrecy on account of the need to hide Mando’s identity. But a source had seemingly confirmed that production was beginning at The Volume, the studios that lay just a few miles outside of London.

The timing of the news really could not have come at a better moment for you. It was something to focus on and to look forward to. Although this tour would inevitably be as awful as those that had gone before, it would soon be over and you would be able to join in with all the excitement and theorising with your group of friends over what lay in store for Mando in season three.

So, with a mixture of emotions, you left the break room and made your way through the lofty halls of the museum towards the entrance. You were both bursting with excitement at the knowledge that somewhere – only a few miles from here – the next season of your favourite show was currently being filmed and filled with and trepidation for the ghastly man that you were certain you were about to encounter, You braced yourself for the awful man you were sure you would be tasked with showing around the museum. You were trying your best to stay calm but you were absolutely dreading the tour. You were not in any mood to engage with people, let alone a complete stranger, today.

As you neared the front entrance, you cast your mind back to the previous Saturday. Particularly, to the way you had stood up so passionately to defend Mando at the awful panel at ForceCon. See, you could do things, even in the face of idiots. You were a capable person. You would survive this.

But when you entered the entrance hall of the museum, you found that the man you were to give a tour to was unlike anything you had been expecting. Firstly, you noticed that he was not in the standard chinos and loafer uniform of the aristocracy. In fact, he was dressed rather casually, although still smart, in a high-necked brown jumper with dark brown trousers that almost matched the turtleneck sweater in shade. You noticed that he had brown boots on, too. The guy must really have a thing for brown. Then you noticed how uncomfortable the man seemed. He had not seen you yet, but he was standing there, glancing around the hall somewhat nervously, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side. But there was something else about him that you found intriguing… because the man you were to give a tour to had a child at his feet.

You were surprised to see such a young child; he couldn’t have been more than two or three years old, clinging to the man’s leg. Even though he had initially seemed different from all the others, now you found that the sight of such a small child brought out feelings of resentment from inside you. You thought about what a waste of money it was, to book out an entire museum for just him and a child that would never remember it. But you were still intrigued at what his story was and in particular, why he seemed so anxious.

You were so transfixed by the sight of the man you were to give the tour to, that you almost didn’t even notice the fact that he was standing next to one of your friends. Mo was one of the few people you actually liked at the museum and the two of you always had conversations whenever your paths crossed. You shared similar interests and humour. Mo was about your age and was always open to your rants about the museum, given his background as the son of immigrants from Pakistan. You found him a breath of fresh air, even if he still hadn’t watched Mando, despite you repeatedly nagging him to.

As you had closed the last few steps between you, though, the man did something you found rather odd. He gave you a strange look, almost a scowl, before rapidly looking away and focusing on anything else in the museum other than your impending presence next to him.

“Hi, Mo,” you smiled at him cheerfully, in an attempt to diffuse whatever tension the sight of you had evoked for the man. Suddenly, you felt immensely grateful that he would be somewhere in the vicinity during your tour. Mo nodded at you as you stepped forward and introduced yourself. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’ll be your tour guide around the museum tonight. Dan, was it?”

But the man did not say a word. He just stood there gawping at you, eyes wide and mouth opened slightly as his brown eyes remained fixed on your face. You were a little unnerved, not least because of the strange look he had given you as you approached. For a brief moment, a look of recognition flashed across his features. But you were certain that you had never seen this man before in your entire life. You would remember if you had, you were sure of that. He was incredibly handsome, probably at least ten years older than you and presumably married, judging by the baby he had with him. Bizarrely, you felt as though the pressure was off, even though it wasn’t like a simple museum tour was going to be the start of a great love story or anything. Besides, regardless of how attractive you found him, this man was strictly off-limits; it would be completely improper to start anything having met at work like this.

The man finally seemed to shake himself out of whatever stupor he appeared to have fallen into and finally introduced himself.

“Oh! Uh, hi. No, not Dan. My name is Din… Din Djarin,” Din explained as he offered his hand to you, which you took and shook slowly.

The warmth of Din’s enormous hand as it engulfed yours, dwarfing your smaller hand as your fingers touched his palm and felt the rough calluses there sent a chill down your spine. There was an unmistakable shock of something there, caused by the feeling of his skin against yours. You tilted your chin up to look at his face as your joined hands hovered in mid-air.

You were first taken in by how brown Din’s eyes were as they gazed at you as your hands slowly stopped moving together. They were deep and warm, the colour of the wood panelling in some of the oldest rooms here in the museum. His prominent nose was perhaps his most striking feature. It was aquiline and achingly beautiful, it reminded you of some of the sculptures the museum had of Roman Emperors. Din unquestionably had movie-star good looks, but without being unapproachable in his attractiveness. Yet, you were still absolutely captivated and intimidated by him. As your eyes continued to traverse his face, you noticed too that he had a neatly trimmed moustache underneath his stunning nose. There was slightly patchy stubble dotted along his defined jawline and high cheekbones, too. But the moustache was captivating, sat as it was atop his plush lips… lips that looked so soft and inviting…

Woah! You were going too far. You dropped Din’s hand abruptly and cleared your throat as you mentally berated yourself for staring at the lips of a guy you didn’t even know – a visitor, no less! A visitor who you were about to give a tour of the museum to, a visitor who had brought his young son. It was beyond inappropriate.

“Pleasure to meet you Mr Djarin. I’m looking forward to showing you around all of the wonderful exhibitions we are so lucky to have here,” you smiled, attempting to ignore both the heat you felt on your cheeks and the confused expression on Mo’s face.

Upon hearing your voice again, Din looked slightly taken aback and that look that you had momentarily witnessed flash across his features, as though he remembered you from somewhere, returned. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the recognition was gone from his face, replaced with a stern scowl. His brows pointed firmly downwards, along with his lips that were oh, so plush. A little wrinkle in the centre of his browline above his nose suddenly became prominent, which showed his age. You thought it was cute and ached to smooth it out with your fingertips.

For heaven’s sake! You really needed to get a grip, it was ridiculous to be pining like a little lost puppy over a man you had just met. Especially one who seemed to have an aversion to you on the scale that Din clearly did.

You stood there, heart pounding as the scowl did not fade from his features as quickly as you hoped it might. Whatever problem Din had with your presence was lingering. Great, he doesn’t like me, you thought. How had you already messed it up? Usually, you at least managed to hold it together for a few minutes before the mask slipped and your disdain for the rich assholes became obvious. But this was a new record, even for you. The two of you had barely spoken. And you actually didn’t hate this guy, you were more intrigued by him than disgusted, even if he was behaving a little strangely in your presence.

You were just about to offer to get Din a different tour guide and apologise profusely for whatever it was about your existence that was so off-putting when he finally opened his mouth and spoke.

“Please, you don’t have to call me Mr Djarin. Just Din is fine,” Din said, brown eyes widening as he suddenly snapped out of whatever trance he had been in. Then, he nodded his head – causing a few brown curls to fall over his eyes – and added: “This is my son, Grogu. I don’t know if you were expecting him and I hope he isn’t too young for the tour, but wherever I go, he goes.”

“Aww, he’s adorable!” you exclaimed, unable to help yourself despite your usual disdain for children. You crouched down so you were eye-level with Grogu to greet him properly too. “Hello there, Grogu,” you whispered softly.

The little boy was dressed in a green onesie and his dark curly hair peeked out from underneath the matching green hood. You noticed too, now that you were closer, that he was fiddling with a shiny metallic ball, clutched tightly in his hand. It was a pretty unusual outfit for a museum tour, but you did not judge either of them. You noticed that Grogu seemed a little nervous, as he stood there, unmoving with a blank expression and contemplated you. The biggest brown eyes that you had ever seen in your entire life were staring right back at you, traversing their way across your face.

With his impossibly large eyes and deep bronze skin, even you who ordinarily disliked children had to admit that Grogu was a little charmer. Perhaps it was the fact that you had never really been surrounded by that many children which explained why you had never been particularly fond of them. Either way, even you had to admit: that Grogu was completely adorable. Even if he did not seem keen to acknowledge your existence in any meaningful way.

“He doesn’t always take kindly to strangers…” Din explained as you knelt there, waiting for a response that never came.

“Well, that’s fine!” you smiled at Grogu before you stood up straight. “As long as he takes kindly to museums, I’m sure we’ll have a great time together.”

“Thank you,” Din nodded and swallowed thickly, his voice full of an emotion that you could not quite place.

“How old is Grogu?” you asked, attempting to make some more small talk to put the pair of them at ease.

“He’s thirty-eight months,” Din said quietly as he looked down towards his son, who was still clutching onto Din’s calf with the hand that wasn’t grasping the metallic ball.

You usually found it obnoxious, the way parents measured their babies’ ages in months – just say he’s three! But there was something about the way Din looked at Grogu, the pride you saw there in those warm brown eyes, that stopped you from getting frustrated with him.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to have you both here. There’s no minimum or maximum age for loving history!” you said enthusiastically and then internally cringed. You had perhaps said that a little too enthusiastically to remain authentic to yourself. But part of being a good tour guide was giving your guests a little bit of a show and despite their somewhat mystifying reactions to your existence, you were eager to impress Din and Grogu. “Are there any areas that you are particularly interested in seeing? Unfortunately, the collection is so vast that we won’t have time to see it all, but if there are any specific areas of history that you are especially interested in, I’ll make sure that we see them!”

“To be honest, I don’t know that much about uhh… your history,” Din said, reaching to touch the back of his neck with his hand in a soothing motion.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place to learn!” you said reassuringly.

The man before you seemed somewhat embarrassed about his lack of knowledge, but you loved it when people came here as a blank canvas and you got to tell them about things they had never heard of before. It was one of the most satisfying parts of the job.

Ironically too, when Din had said he did not know much about your history, the man clearly had no idea that most of this museum did not even show British history. It was an inescapable fact that you had become increasingly sickened by during your time working here. The reality of just how much of the collection had been accumulated due to violent pillaging and plundering of other nations' resources had led to you becoming increasingly disillusioned by the institution as a whole. Although the museum boasted an extensive, impressive collection… so much of it was stolen treasures from the rest of the world.

You tried not to shy away from the fact, even though management would have been furious if they ever discovered you had brought such a truth up. So, you had to be tactful in your methods. After all, you were a firm believer that change came from within. Despite how tempted you had been to quit your job when you had first realised how little of Britain's history was here, and how the colonial past was gushed over, you had stayed, fearing that perhaps your replacement would have been ignorant to such a fact. You also remained, hoping that you could one day leave the museum in a better condition than the one you found it in.

“Enjoy the tour,” Mo nodded at Din. Then, he approached you and whispered for only you to hear: “Already gave him the stern, don’t-be-a-creep and don’t steal anything talk. Call me if you need anything,” Mo finished and handed you a walkie-talkie.

You placed the device in your pocket and smiled as Mo left, grateful that you had a good friend who would look out for you. Although it seemed that it would be unnecessary, given just how guarded your little tour party seemed.

“Right!” you exclaimed and clapped your hands together, unofficially marking the start of the tour. “If it’s okay with the pair of you, I would love to show you to the exhibition which contains the Lewis chessmen. It’s the oldest surviving chess set from the British Isles and it’s one of the most famous pieces in our collection.”

“Sounds good to me,” Din nodded with a smile as he leaned down to pick Grogu up. Then, he indicated for you to lead the way with his hand.

You kept your distance as you headed in the direction of the infamous chess set. Sometimes you would hang back and engage the guests in small talk or point out various features of the museum. But there was an unmistakable anxiousness present in both Din and Grogu, so you decided to give them space as they adjusted to their new surroundings.

You had intended to take them directly to the chess set, but then an idea struck you for how to get Grogu more engaged. Although you weren’t the biggest fan of children, the feeling did not appear to be mutual as the kids who visited the museum on school trips usually warmed to you surprisingly quickly. Grogu was proving to be somewhat more of a challenge though, but you dreamt up an idea to hopefully engage him a little more.

You stopped and turned around to face Din, who was carrying Grogu tightly in his arms so that the little boy’s chin was resting on one of his broad shoulders. Din came to a stop and glanced at you curiously.

“I know I promised I would take you to the chess set and we can still go there, but I was thinking first that we could pass through the wing which houses our Ancient Egypt collection?” you suggested. “I’m a guide for most of the school trips that visit us and it always seems to be the area that the kids most enjoy.”

“Oh. That’s very… kind of you,” Din rasped. “Thank you.”

You nodded and began walking ahead of your guests again, grateful that Din would not see the effect he was having on your ordinarily calm, composed demeanour. Although he appeared to be a man of few words, every time Din did speak, you felt the way your knees weakened. His voice was so low and gravelly, it was deep and rich. With a voice like that, you thought that it was a crime that he did not speak more often. Though you supposed, it was a good thing after all. His voice was so attractive that it was almost distracting.

Eventually, you made it to the Egyptian section of the museum. You really hoped that it would have the intended impact on Grogu, who was still utterly silent in Din’s arms. You knew that kids usually loved this exhibition most of all. There were sarcophaguses and all kinds of intricate patterns that all the school trips who visited the museum made it a priority to see.

As you walked through the room, you gave a brief history of this wing of the museum and drew Din and Grogu’s attention to the most notable exhibit: The Rosetta Stone. Afterwards, you told them to let you know if they needed any help. Then, you kept your distance as you wanted to give Din and Grogu some privacy to explore the collection and hopefully become a bit more accustomed to their surroundings. You sensed that Din was not particularly used to museums and it was perhaps making him a little uneasy to be in one. Which made you all the more curious as to why he had organised a private tour.

You maintained your distance but still stood close enough so that you could help them if they needed it. But as you stood back to observe Din Djarin moving between the cases which housed so many ancient treasures, you were struck by the way he somehow seemed oddly familiar. Just as there had been a small flash of recognition on his face when he first saw you, you felt as though you had seen him somewhere before yourself.

You wondered whether he was actually more famous than he was letting on. After all, he was handsome enough to be an actor or a model. Perhaps you had seen him onscreen somewhere before, even if it was only a minor role. At that moment, Din placed Grogu on the ground and the little boy began to toddle his own path through the exhibits. You observed the way Din followed him around, noticing that there was a certain swagger to the way that he moved and the way his arms swung by his sides that felt familiar. It was his gait, the way he held his arms, something about him gave you the strangest sense of déjà vu.

But try as you might, you just could not put it all together, even though it felt like you were missing something frustratingly obvious. You felt like you were continually chasing something that was just out of reach. Finally, you felt as though you were about to piece everything together and had almost figured out just where you knew him from when Din called your name and waved you closer. It was a stark reminder that you had a job to do, after all. Din was your visitor, your guest… you needed to get a grip on your emotions.

You approached the case Din was standing in front of, he turned to you with his mouth open, he clearly wanted you to ask you about something. You had expected him to question you on the collection of ornately carved, wooden cat mummies that he was currently standing in front of. But surprisingly, despite the treasures that lay just the other side of the glass, Din’s mind was seemingly elsewhere.

“Are you working overtime just for us?” Din said quietly, staring straight ahead at the display while Grogu toddled around at your feet.

You were utterly astounded by his audacity. You knew the rich and famous were out of touch but, holy shit! This guy was on a different level. Of course, you were working overtime! If it wasn’t for him, you would be back at home with nothing but you, Mando and lots of peace and quiet. But no, Din fucking Djarin over here had to get in the way of you and your comfort bounty hunter.

“I am,” you replied curtly.

“I hope you’re well paid for it,” Din offered, sympathetically. You were about to bite back with a sarcastic comment, but his next comment stopped you in your tracks: “This wasn’t my idea, by the way. I’m over here in London for work which means I have to spend a lot of time away from my home. It’s just my son and I,” Din continued and you noticed the way he clenched and unclenched his hands that hung by his sides into fists as he spoke. “So, my bosses like to book little excursions like this every so often to stop us from going crazy out of boredom. I just wanted you to know that. To be honest, this kind of thing sort of embarrasses me. I don’t feel good about all the trouble you’ve clearly had to go to, about you staying late and… stuff.”

“Oh…” you breathed. All the bitterness and simmering hatred that you felt for this man had completely disappeared. He was just a lonely single dad, staying far away from home. You wondered what Din’s story was and how Grogu came to be featured in it. There was blatantly a strong bond between them that went beyond words. Indeed, you had not heard the little boy utter a single word, even after being let loose in the Egyptian exhibition. You also, perhaps more selfishly, wondered whether Grogu’s mother was in the picture and whether he was adopted. But that was incredibly invasive, it was not for you to know such personal details. You were just here to show them around the museum and ensure that they had as enjoyable a time as possible.

“I really am sorry that you had to stay extra late for us. Perhaps I can speak to my bosses and the museum and make sure that all of you, the cleaners, security and the like are fairly compensated.” Din said earnestly as he turned to look at you. His words and face were full of sincerity and you found yourself almost lost in the big brown eyes that had been slowly worming their way into your heart since the first time you had stared into them in the entrance hall.

You were stunned, not only by how physically appealing you found him – if a man could be beautiful, you would deem Din Djarin worthy of such a description – but you were also floored by the beauty of his words. You were stunned by what a humble man he appeared to be, despite the enormous wealth that was seemingly available to him. Surely, if his bosses were so exceedingly rich, then Din himself must be, too? It was hard to believe that because, despite his affluence, Din seemingly still retained his humanity and cared about ordinary people. You were absolutely bowled over by this man. He was nothing like what you had been expecting.

“Thank you for apologising but really, it’s fine. Just one of those things that I have to do. You’re uh, actually the first ever person on one of these visits who has ever acknowledged that. So, thank you, Din. It means a lot,” you smiled at him, feeling your stomach flip at the way he was staring at you. “It’s not like you’ve interrupted much anyway tonight, to be honest. Usually, I just go straight home after work. I’d be lying on the couch in front of the TV by now. But you and Grogu have been a pleasure to show around thus far,” you admitted. You were unsure why you had told Din such a thing, usually feeling embarrassed about your preference for solitude. But there was just something about that man, with his earnest brown eyes, that made you want to tell him everything about yourself.

“I’m glad to hear that. Thank you for being such a great guide,” Din said appreciatively. And you knew he meant it. Din wasn’t speaking with the fake sincerity that so many of the other obnoxious rich clients that you were so accustomed to showing around the museum, either. It was genuine. You could tell that from the look in his eyes and how solemn his voice was that he meant every word.

“You’re welcome. If you’re ready, we can head to the next area that I'm going to show you to. It contains a stunning artefact known as the Sutton Hoo helmet and it’s perhaps the most famous artefact here that was not stolen from another country,” you observed, dryly.

Din raised his eyebrows at your statement and your heart dropped for a second, fearing that you had perhaps pushed things a step too far. After all, you knew nothing about this man’s background. Perhaps he was one of them. Before you could worry for much longer, though, he burst out laughing at your observation. You let out a sigh of relief and found yourself laughing along with him, too. His joy was infectious and the way the wrinkles showed around his eyes as they half-shut in mirth made your heart soar.

“I did notice that when I was reading the descriptions in this section,” Din nodded. “I don’t think Giza is in the UK. But it never says how the artefacts ended up here. They just act as though everything here magically appeared in London one day.”

“Yeah, of course. It was just raining artefacts in the Victorian Era,” you rolled your eyes. “But uhh… can I just ask that if you get asked for any feedback about the tour at all… please, please don’t tell my boss I said that. We’re really not supposed to acknowledge that part of the museum’s history,” you pleaded, despite how much you felt as though you inherently trusted Din.

“Of course I won’t,” Din promised as he shook his head, “I think it’s important to talk about it and it’s a shame if you cannot speak openly.”

“Exactly. I always think how can you not mention it, when it’s staring you right in the face? So I try to slip it in where possible whenever I give tours. I’ve made references to it in front of royalty before now, but they were too dense to notice. Didn’t get taught about what their ancestors did at their posh schools, it seems,” you admitted with a shrug, your blood boiling at the memory of how condescending the minor royals that you had never even heard of had been throughout your tour. “So that’s why I always try to talk about it, especially in future exhibitions I plan to curate. This is probably why none of my proposals have ever been selected, come to think of it. Colonialists don’t like it when you point out how many things you’ve stolen, it transpires.” you said with a wry smile

“No, they don't,” Din said, one corner of his mouth curling into a smirk as he regarded you.

For a few moments, all thoughts of where the tour was headed left your head. You felt immobilised by the way Din was staring at you. Gone was the scowl of earlier, you felt as though he was staring at you as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not in a patronising way that you were well used to, though. He was staring at you in the same way you had witnessed so many visitors stare at the assortment of wonders in the museum: in complete awe.

“Anyway, the helmet is this way.” you said, shaking your head as you stepped out of his gaze and turned to leave the room.

Once again, you walked a few paces ahead of Din and Grogu. You didn’t trust yourself to face him at that moment because of the way that he had just looked at you. It was difficult to remain professional after that. Having someone look at you like that was something you were incredibly unused to. Perhaps you were delusional, but you were certain that Din had just gazed at you as though he was mesmerised by you, taking you in and considering you slowly.

You suddenly felt a bit shaky after it, feeling the unmistakable thundering of your heart in your chest. Din had regarded you as if you were a beautiful artwork of some kind, rather than just the lowly museum worker that you were. It was enthralling to have someone look at you like that. You were not used to it… it had been years since your last proper relationship. But when you thought back to how your ex looked at you, you were certain you had seen that same admiration in Din’s eyes. But surely, that was ridiculous. Din was a few years older than you, possibly even married, given the child he had with him. You were probably just projecting your hopes onto a situation that was not there. It was a little bit desperate.

Mercifully, the helmet was not too far away from where you currently were in the museum and you made it there quickly enough that you did not have to dwell on the way Din looked at you for an uncomfortably long time. All you knew for certain was that the thought of him looking at you like that again was simultaneously the thing you wanted most in the world and a deeply terrifying and mortifying prospect. But there was no time for you to dwell on it or even really talk to him. There was, instead, an old helmet for you to look at and explain the history of to your visitors.

You showed Din to the glass case it was displayed in as your heart rate somewhat returned to its normal rate. Talking about Anglo-Saxon antiques was sure to help you in getting a handle on your emotions. Fortunately, your feelings towards the Sutton Hoo helmet had never lessened, despite any more general disillusionment you felt towards the entire institution. Indeed, it was a photograph of this very helmet which had captured your imagination many years ago and sent you down a path that culminated in you working here at the museum. There was something about it that captured your imagination every time you saw it, no matter how many times you had observed it up close. Just knowing that people many centuries ago had created it and gazed upon it with their own eyes somehow made you feel closer and further away from the past than ever.

The helmet was mainly faded to a brown colour now but despite its age, it was remarkably complete. It had a cap, cheek-pieces, mask and neck-guard. The nose detail and eye holes meant one could visualise where the warrior had once placed his head. The two strips of metal that hung around and down the face piece on either side always reminded you of the tusks of an elephant. The gold strip that went from near the top of the helmet towards the nose was an indication of how ornate the helmet had once been. You, Din and Grogu – who was nestled in his father’s arms – stood there for a few quiet moments, regarding the helmet quietly.

“Incredible craftsmanship. Remarkable too, how it has survived for so long. How old is it?” Din asked.

“We think it was made somewhere between the late sixth and early seventh centuries. So it’s well over one thousand years old, whichever way you look at it,” you explained, delighted that Din wanted you to share your expertise. “It’s a mixture of iron and tinned copper alloy. Some of the patterns have been lost but you can just make out some animals and warrior motifs. The nose and mouth-piece were cast as one and they have a silver inlay with some engraved details. It’s really a fine work and incredible to think about how old it is.”

“Fascinating, thank you,” Din said, before he leaned down and whispered proudly to his son: “See, Grogu, they didn’t make them the same way that we do.”

You thought it was a bizarre comment, but you had no right to press Din for details, given that he had probably not intended for you to hear such a thing. Perhaps Din was involved in manufacturing military equipment, or something. You did not doubt that there was a lot of money in that line of work, enough money that would allow bosses to rent out the British Museum.

Despite your longstanding admiration for the Sutton Hoo helmet, you found that every time you looked at it now, your mind was reminded of another helmet: the one that your favourite character wore. Since first watching the show, you found that every time you were here in the presence of the Anglo-Saxon artefact, you always thought of Mando. You marvelled each time at how people who lived so long ago possessed the technology to create such an intricate piece of art. Although much of the detailing had sadly been lost to time, it was nonetheless an incredible feat. It also made you wonder if, in the Star Wars galaxy, Mandalorian helmets were on display like this in museums just like the one you worked at. Or was the warrior race too secretive? Had anyone ever captured a Mandalorian to examine their craftsmanship?

You were so caught up in that thought, musing over the possibility of there being an equivalent to the Sutton Hoo helmet in the Star Wars universe, that you failed to notice that at some point, while you had been explaining the helmet’s history and quietly admiring it with Din, his son had toddled off. Neither of you noticed that anything was amiss until you heard the unmistakable sound of someone rapping on the glass of one of the displays. You spun around in shock, confused and disorientated, wondering what the noise was; but Din was on it right away.

“Grogu! No!” Din exclaimed as he ran towards his son.

The sound of the metallic ball clutched in Grogu’s chubby little hands went tap tap tap as it collided with the glass case which housed one of the most significant carvings in European history.

You turned around and smiled at the sight – you couldn’t help yourself, despite the fact you probably should have been delivering a stern reprimand – as Din scooped Grogu up and held him to his chest. At some point, while you had been explaining the Sutton Hoo helmet to Din, Grogu had got seemingly bored by your lecture and wandered off to explore something he found far more interesting.

“I’m so sorry,” Din said apologetically as you came to stand next to him.

“Oh, don’t worry. Those cases are designed to protect against chemical warfare, bullets, fires… anything you can think of,” you smiled, looking down at Grogu who seemed blissfully unaware of the panic he had just elicited in the pair of you. “An excitable toddler is no match. It isn’t like the movies, no red lasers are going to shoot out of the ceiling, I assure you.”

However, just as you were explaining you heard the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor outside, which probably belonged to a member of the museum’s security team as they sprinted to check what the commotion was. Grogu had probably unknowingly activated some kind of security system. The mystery security guard shouted your name and you realised it was Mo, who was clearly sizing the situation up and whether he needed to storm in, guns blazing.

“It’s fine, Mo!” You shouted in reply. “Just a little excited kiddo here, absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“Okay! Just checking!” Mo replied as his footsteps stopped. When they resumed, they grew more distant as he disappeared elsewhere in the museum.

“Thank you,” Din said appreciatively. He exhaled and turned to look at you, a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude on his face that you hadn’t made this into a big deal.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. “You know, we don’t have too much art here in this museum. I’m surprised he was so drawn to this, I wouldn’t expect a child to like it as it's pretty much just a technical drawing and there are no colours. The art we do have is great though, although it’s nothing like the National Gallery, their collection is amazing,” you mused.

“No, but it’s still a beautiful piece. I think he just likes the look of the armour. I really am sorry about all the commotion,” Din reiterated his apology.

“Oh, really, Mr. Djarin. It’s fine,” you said reassuringly, hoping that your choice not to refer to Din by his first name would place some distance between the two of you. “The security guys just get a little jumpy after hours, that’s all.”

“Please, I absolutely insist that you call me Din. Mr. Djarin makes me sound like an old man!” Din joked.

“Okay Din,” you giggled, but were desperate to change the subject. “You know, if Grogu is interested in art, there’s also the National Gallery, another museum here. It gets quite busy at peak times, as all museums do. The crowds particularly gather around Van Gogh’s sunflowers. I mean, I get it. He’s my favourite painter and I love that piece. But there’s so much other art that gets neglected, lonely at its expense. People just walk up to the sunflowers, snap their pictures and leave. The whole thing is very impersonal… they don’t take a second to appreciate the hours that the artist spent agonising over every little detail, you know?”

“It is a shame… that people cannot stop to appreciate beautiful things when they’re standing right in front of them…” Din’s voice had dropped to barely above a whisper as his brown eyes focused on you, smiling at you thoughtfully.

You cleared your throat and looked down, feeling the familiar warmth that came with embarrassment creep up your neck and onto your face. Your cheeks were suddenly burning. The look Din had given you when he said beautiful had made you feel slightly dizzy. You weren’t sure whether he was referring to the art or you. It made you feel slightly lightheaded. You had almost forgotten what it felt like to be spoken to like that, it had been so long since anyone had seen you in that way.

It was somewhat alarming to you, too, how quickly you felt comfortable around Din. Perhaps it was watching his interactions with Grogu but, despite his broad shoulders and muscular frame, there was an undeniable gentleness to him. It had been a long time since you had opened up to anyone as easily as you had to Din. Oh sure, you were only explaining that you sometimes enjoyed looking at art at a certain gallery and that you liked to lounge around in front of the TV. They weren’t your deepest, most intimate secrets or anything. But for someone who took so long to feel comfortable around others, it said something about how at ease you felt with Din that you were able to tell him these little things about yourself so soon after meeting him.

“Yes… it’s a shame,” you eventually agreed. “Anyway, sorry for going on a rant about selfish gallery-goers. Would you like me to tell you more about the artwork?” you asked, remembering what you were being paid for and attempting to steer the conversation back towards something that you were infinitely more comfortable with – historical artefacts.

“That would be great, thank you,” Din nodded as he placed Grogu down.

“The piece that captured Grogu’s imagination, as it transpires, is one of the most important carvings in European history. It’s a woodcut of a rhinoceros created by a German painter called Albrecht Dürer in 1515, who never even saw the beast. He carved it based on a description from an Indian writer,” You explained as you launched into a passionate lecture about the history of Dürer’s rhino, the two pairs of big brown eyes that belonged Din and Grogu watching you intently. “Clearly, the carving is not wholly accurate, as the rhinoceros looks as though it has plates of armour on its body, rather than the skin anyone from modern times knows that rhinos actually possess. But it was the best they could do. I always find it astonishing that people from such a long time ago were able to create such intricate pieces of art,” you marvelled, hoping to fill Din and Grogu with the same sense of wonderment that you felt when you thought about the past.

Sometimes, you felt embarrassed about the extensive knowledge that you possessed, that you could always launch into such detailed lectures at a moment’s notice. There were so many people in your past who had viewed your knowledge as patronising arrogance on your part, distorted by their inadequacies to believe that you were showing off somehow and attempting to make them feel inferior. But you were not, you were just passionate and enthusiastic about the world that surrounded you, particularly the past. You enjoyed sharing that passion and knowledge with other people. It was never born out of a desire to make them feel bad for what they did not know, but to help them to learn something new and perhaps open their minds.

But you felt none of that embarrassment as you concluded your lecture, still being watched intently by Din and Grogu: “As you can imagine, this would influence perceptions of rhinoceros for centuries, even though it was not accurate. Would be pretty cool if rhinos wore armour though, wouldn’t it, Grogu?” You finished, smiling at the little boy who had listened to you so patiently.

“Thank you for that. I’m sure Grogu would agree, he likes…. Uh… armour,” Din said, reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck again, just as he had done shortly after you met in the entrance hall.

You smiled and nodded, appreciating the praise. But Din’s comment about the armour stood out to you, especially when you considered what he had said to Grogu about the Sutton Hoo helmet earlier. You were beginning to feel more certain now that Din probably had something to do with weapons, somehow. Perhaps it was his main line of work, or perhaps he was one of those enthusiasts who reenacted battles in his spare time… now that was a funny image.

But Din continued speaking before you could dwell on the comment any longer: “Grogu really likes animals too. I think he likes them more than the art and history aspect, as interesting as they were,” Din remarked.

“Oh, there’s a zoo here in London, you know? I think it has some rhinos, but if he likes animals perhaps it would be a nice day out for the two of you. I haven’t been for a while, usually, it’s full of tourists, but if I get a day off and it’s not the summer, I do like hanging out there,” you admitted.

“I would love to visit sometime, hopefully, Grogu and I can find the time while we’re over here,” Din said, touching his chin as if he were deep in thought.

“Yes, it’s definitely worth a visit. A lot of people seem surprised that London has such an impressive zoo with animals from all around the world. It often gets overlooked in favour of all the more touristy sights. You know, Big Ben, Buckingham Palace and shopping on Oxford Street. And don’t get me wrong, I do love going to those places from time to time. It never ceases to amaze me that I live in the capital city, you know. But I think there is just as much value to be gained from getting out in nature and exploring the natural beauty our world has to offer,” you said, thoughtfully.

“Me too. A lot of nature can be so… beautiful.” Din breathed, that look was back again as he used that word once more.

You felt that familiar skin-warming sensation creep back up your neck again and gazed down at the floor, moving away from his penetrating gaze as you invited them to follow you to look at some more of the collection. You roamed around the exhibition with the two of them for a little bit longer after you felt that you had spent enough time looking at the carving of the rhinoceros.

Eventually, after quickly looking at some of the art from the Arab world that was in the collection, it was time for you to draw the tour to a close. You ushered Din and Grogu back down the grand stone staircase in the main, airy room that was still lit naturally despite the late hour. It was late June so the sun did not sit till late, though the sunlight that streamed down in the day had begun to dim now.

Din’s brown hair and eyes looked golden in the sunset light, his eyes were glowing almost the colour of honey. He was stunning. You couldn’t believe how much you found yourself enthralled by this man, even though you had just met him. Throughout the tour, you had both connected over history and your shared values. It was nothing too deep though and you were only operating in a professional capacity, but it was pathetic how much you already felt drawn to him. You needed to get over yourself.

Fortunately, you soon would as you were about to say goodbye. You knew in your heart of hearts that, much as you had enjoyed your time spent with him, once you said your goodbyes and he left through the door with Grogu, that would be the very last you would ever see of Din Djarin.

“Thank you for being such an incredible guide,” Din said, reaching out to shake your hand again. “Grogu and I had the best time.”

You could barely choke out a reply. You wondered whether Din had felt the same spark of electricity that you felt when he had taken his hand in yours. His skin was surprisingly smooth and warm; if you weren’t completely deluding yourself, you swore that his hand lingered on yours a beat longer than it had when you had introduced yourself to him. Even though you had both left your hands on each other for a near-uncomfortably long amount of time even then. Din looked directly into your eyes, the brown of his irises was now flecked with golden streaks. You wanted to lose yourself in those eyes. What a shame you had to part.

“It was my pleasure. I hope you learnt something new on the tour, something that you take with you always,” you smiled, still looking into his eyes. “Enjoy the remainder of your time here in the UK.”

Din thanked you one last time and even got Grogu to wave to you. Then he was gone, his footsteps echoing off the marble floors and tall ceilings. You were left there in his wake. This enigmatic man, with kind brown eyes and brown curly hair, had been so kind to you despite all your expectations to the contrary. You knew that you would never cross paths with him again and that thought pained you somewhere deep inside. You felt as though Din had brought something to your life that you had not realised you were missing. What a loss, a loss of a man that you barely even knew.

Still, you consoled yourself with the thought that at least you had your comfy couch and endless episodes of The Mandalorian to go back to. Your favourite show would always be there for you. Mando would never leave you standing there, pining for him. It was ridiculous! You shook your head, trying to pull yourself out of the trance that Din had just left you in. You needed to get home before it was too late.

You grabbed your belongings from the office and finally began to head for home, several hours later than you had been anticipating but still grateful that at least the tour had not been an utter disaster. Perhaps that would have been better, though, you mused. Rather than leaving you with such a twisted, tangled mess of feelings.

To distract yourself from the impossibly noisy drunken teenagers who were heading for a night out – suddenly making you feel ancient – you passed your time on the journey home with your nose buried into your phone, texting Ria about the man you had just given a tour to.

[ilovemando] 20:42 - RIAAAAA i just showed the hottest guy around the museum for a private tour. dreamy brown eyes, deep voice, tall, broad shoulders. he was older though and had a kid but i think he called me beautiful at one point? dgsdhgs maybe i’m delulu but wow he was fucking HOT i am yearning

You stared around the carriage absentmindedly, waiting for Ria to reply as you wished your noise-cancelling headphones could make everyone disappear, especially the drunk dickheads on your train. Fortunately, Ria was chronically online and you didn’t have to wait too long for her to reply.

[thisistheslay] 20:44 - Omg bestie!!! Did anything else happen, do you think you’ll see him again? A private tour though ugh. Eat the rich!!

[ilovemando] 20:47 - nahhh i cant see him again, didnt get his number. would’ve been unprofessional lmao. we just spoke quite a lot, i guess. it felt more relaxed than a lot of the tours i gave recently actually. he was really sweet. works a good job so thats how he got the tour… not rich arsehole vibes at all. fuck im crushing on a man i’ll never see again. pain

[thisistheslay] 20:49 - I mean, better than crushing on someone who doesn’t even exist?

You threw your head back and snorted. That was a low blow, but probably deserved.

[ilovemando] 20:50 - RIA??????? UNCALLED FOR!!

[thisistheslay] 20:51 - Sorry, sorry. I know Mando is real to you.

[ilovemando] 20:51 - ur damn right he is lmao. gonna watch the foundlings when i get back. if no one else got me, i know mando got me… can i get an amen

[thisistheslay] 20:53 - AMEN! The only man who deserves rights.

[ilovemando] 20:54 - so true bestie. anyway gonna put my phone away and stare out of the window for the rest of the journey and listen to the mando soundtrack while imagining we’re flying through space in the razor crest together…. im so mentally stable. ill live text u my mental breakdown when watching the foundlings when i get home :))))

[thisistheslay] 20:56 - Hahah you really are, very healthy behaviour. Please do, I’ll look forward to it, work is dragginggggg

You smiled and put your phone in your pocket, doing exactly as you said. As far above you, the dense city turned into lush suburbia, you were elsewhere. Not even on this earth as you daydreamed about Mando next to you.

You almost missed your stop, such was the vividness of your daydream. You wished you could escape to that fantasy world and stop pining for a man you hardly knew. The time you had spent with Din had been the happiest you had felt since the convention since Ria had left. But it had been fleeting, temporary and now you were heading back to reality which, for you, was lying on your couch on a Friday night, watching your comfort episode of Mando for the billionth time.

You sighed deeply as you lay there, watching the episode. It was unhealthy to compare a fictional character to reality and you knew that. But you just wished that more men could be like Mando. You adored the way he took such good care of the children. He was so empathetic, and protective; so sworn to his duty that he got himself into precarious situations multiple times throughout the episode to protect the foundlings, who were strangers to him. But Mando did it without hesitation, without anger. He was just a good man.

You couldn’t help but be reminded of the interactions you had seen between Din and Grogu. There you were, again! Caught up yearning for a much older man that you were never going to see again. This episode was meant to distract you from him and replace your newfound pining for a real, unattainable man with a familiar yearning for a fictional man who was even more unattainable because he wasn’t real. But instead, everything you saw of Mando was causing you to think of Din. It had not been the evening you had planned.

You had expected to watch more episodes, perhaps having a mini binge. You always intended to stop after one episode, of course. But the reality was quite different. You found yourself unable to stop, no matter how hard you tried as the story always gripped you. You always found Mando’s presence familiar and comforting and you had watched an entire season in one sitting before.

But tonight, you actually did stop after just one episode. You were too distracted to enjoy it properly so when the episode finished, you headed to your room. That night, you fell asleep underneath The Mandalorian poster above your bed, trying to replace thoughts of the brown eyes and brown curls of Din Djarin by thinking about Mando and the way he took care of those children. Trying to replace memories of the tall, broad-shouldered man you had shown around the museum with thoughts of a hulking tin can man with a confident strut who was prepared to give his all to make the galaxy a better place.

Little did you know whichever way you thought about it, you were fantasising about the same man.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring

#my fics #tbobw #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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