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newpathwrites · 5 months

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Din Djarin never did mince words, did he? The honesty in his confession took her breath away for a moment. Stars , this was really happening, wasn’t it?

The realization sobered her up quickly, and she matched his serious tone, turning her body to face him more squarely and setting the wine bottle on the floor. Her gloved hand rested on his knee. “The feeling is mutual, Din.”

He inhaled sharply in both relief and surprise, having been certain she couldn’t possibly return the sentiment.

Summary: Din and Bo share a drink after his fateful rescue.

Note: I originally posted this before the season 3 finale. This is set following S3E7 and is a prediction (or wishful thinking) for what might have happened between them when all was said and done. I basically compiled all of my favorite predictions so many wonderful fans had formulated and put it down on paper with a few of my own mixed in.

This is now totally irrelevant and canon-divergent, but I have considered continuing their story. Also, I really laid the fluff on thick in keeping with my demisexual/demiromantic Din headcanon.

Warnings: Mildly implied sexual references.

Read on AO3

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Bo-Katan hadn’t really known what to expect when Din Djarin showed up at her quarters that evening, wine bottle in hand, and asked if he might join her in the bunk.

And when he shut the door firmly behind him, engaging the lock as he did so, and shared that Grogu would be with Koska for the night, she similarly hadn’t expected the flare of nerves that lit up her body in an instant - a heady mixture that was as exhilarating as it was confusing.

Bo-Katan had long recognized that she harbored a rather large bit of affection for this man, but other, less familiar emotions were suddenly bubbling to the surface of her consciousness unbidden - ones that she’d long ago discarded in favor of serving her people without distraction. And how uncharacteristic of him to suggest casual companionship within the intimate confines of her personal space. This was feeling like a serious moment. Dank farrik … she might be in over her head… but she’d gladly drown in it to spend an evening alone with the one with whom her fate had been entwined.

It had become clear as she and Din had fought off Moff Gideon and his guards, passing the dark saber seamlessly and expertly between them, suddenly lighter than air in their grasps, that their souls were inextricably bound together by the force. It was them - not her and not him, but both together - who were meant to rebuild Mandalore. The prophecies, despite all of Bo-Katan’s disbelief, were true …

What did it mean for them? She didn’t exactly know. But something had been building all this time, as they worked together toward this common goal, two complimentary sides of the same coin, and it felt an awful lot like love.

She felt it, and she knew that he did, too. The subtext of his declaration of devotion before breaching Mandalore was not lost on her. It was both an oath of fealty... and a confession…

And now they sat together in the aftermath of the battle they’d waged together on her small mattress, armored limbs unceremoniously clanging against the walls of the bunk as Din settled himself next to her, helmet now discarded and the bottle of Coruscanti wine from Karga sitting between them.

She couldn’t stop looking at him. It felt simultaneously like looking at a stranger and yet also as if she’d known this face her entire life. Had she seen him in her dreams?

The helmet was already off when she’d found Moff Gideon’s lair, removed forcibly as a means to humiliate a man who’d dedicated his entire life to his creed. But she’d immediately recognized the determination in those brown eyes. Din had come to understand the truth. He was a Mandalorian through and through - the creed would not be the end for him.

She’d put a fisted hand to her heart, just as he’d done in her honor a few days prior, and he’d subtly nodded in recognition. Trust me. It pained her to do it, but when she’d then revealed herself to Moff Gideon, she’d spat vitriol at Din, as well. She asserted that she cared not for this zealot’s welfare, that he was a traitor to her cause like the rest of his dilapidated tribe, that she’d only used him to exact revenge on Gideon himself.

The ruse worked - at least long enough to distract Gideon for a moment as he reassessed his options in light of this unexpected turn. And in those moments, she’d ignited the saber and skillfully cut through Din’s bindings before lunging toward the Moff himself.

What they did then was nothing short of magic. There was no thought or intention. The saber was guiding them. They functioned as a single unit, gracefully and effortlessly destroying their opponents until they were the only two left standing. In a fitting conclusion, Bo-Katan had retrieved Din’s helmet and placed it herself back on his head, assuring him that his Manda’lor found no fault in its removal.

And that’s why it surprised her when he took it off again in her presence these few days later - obviously the reason he’d wanted to do this in the locked bunk. Maybe the rules had changed now that they knew more clearly what they were meant to be to each other.

Conversation was a bit stilted, though, compared to their usual, comfortable banter. Din wasn’t used to conversing truly face to face. Where to look? How to school his facial expressions? And what in the galaxy to say to the woman who was essentially his soulmate? He was not skilled in these things.

But Bo was merciful.

“We have a lot to discuss, hmmm?” She raised her eyebrows and grinned, hoping to diffuse a bit of the nervous tension that had overtaken the small space.

He finally met her eyes, a small, bashful grin forming on his handsome face. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

They gazed at each other just a little too long then, both caught admiring the others’ features in this new light. Din broke first, uncomfortable with the prolonged eye contact, but he still had that boyish grin on his face.

“You know, in the old times, gifting a weapon in public declared the intention to court the other party…” Her bright smile and waggling eyebrows betrayed her humorous intentions, trying desperately to make Din feel more comfortable, though she did hope to spur a real conversation about what was brewing between them. “Some have been saying… you know… ” She shrugged noncommittally. This was meant to be mostly in jest, anyway.

He cleared his throat a bit nervously before replying, “I’m aware…” His expression had now turned very serious.

She continued on despite herself. “And others might say that swearing your devotion ‘til death is tantamount to a love confession…” Okay, that was a bit strong… Maybe she needed to lay off the wine…

He looked down at his cup, aimlessly swirling the liquor. “Yes, they might say that…” His voice sounded rougher as he finally looked up at her again, continuing more forcefully, “And they’d be right…”

Din Djarin never did mince words, did he? The honesty in his confession took her breath away for a moment. Stars , this was really happening, wasn’t it?

He inhaled sharply in both relief and surprise, having been certain she couldn’t possibly return the sentiment.

But then the fear set in…

He wasn’t good at this… feelings… and romance… and physical affection… He didn’t imagine that she was very good at it, either - though certainly better than him… He’d never had a relationship - only casual trysts, and even those were long ago.

Before he had time to really think all of that through, she was removing her gloves and taking his hands in hers. “Can I take these off?”

He could only nod, throat dry. Skin on skin contact of any kind was a rare thing in his life, but how he’d yearned to touch her.

She took her time, recognizing that even just this mildly intimate step might be a shock to his system. And once the gloves were off, she lifted his hands and slid her palms slowly over his, allowing their fingers to lazily clasp together.

Din was mesmerized. He never imagined that he would have the opportunity to be like this with someone… or for it to feel so natural and comforting.

But the way she was looking at him right now… with desire… Kriff , he wasn’t quite ready for all of that… not when bare hands were almost too much for him.

“Bo…” he started, more breathily than intended. “I’ve never really…”

Her eyes went wide, and she cut him off. “ Never ?” Voice dropping to a whisper, she questioned, “Is it not allowed?”

He couldn’t hold back a nervous chuckle. “No… not that… but it’s been a very long time…” He took a deep breath to compose himself. “I’ve just never had… this… I have no idea what I’m doing… And the helmet… and just… there’s so many things…”

“That’s alright,” she reassured him, squeezing his hands. “We can take it slow…”

“I want to kiss you.” The words rushed out before he could stop them. Maker… what was wrong with him?

Did he want to? Yes, that was simply the truth. Had he fantasized many times about what that would be like? Yes… a lot… But could he handle the reality? He wasn’t sure. This was a very intimate thing.

And what if she didn’t want to kiss him ? Bo had only been familiar with his face for all of maybe two hours, after all. Perhaps he was being presumptuous.

But she didn’t give him the chance to perseverate further, raising up on her knees to bring their faces in closer proximity and untangling one of her hands which landed on his stubbled cheek. “By all means, Din - please do…”

He closed his eyes, both adjusting to and reveling in the sensation of her fingers on his face. He was a little lost here. He didn’t know what to do next. So he fell back on a more familiar tradition, bringing their foreheads together in a sort of keldabe. This was a little easier to wrap his mind around right now.

To her credit, Bo caught on quickly, mumbling against his cheek, lips ghosting over the corner of his mouth. “You’ve never done this before… the creed…”

And he mumbled back, “No… But… I trust you…”

She grinned against his skin. There was something refreshingly innocent and honest about this man. “I’ll tell you what - I’m going to press my lips against yours, and you’re going to press mine back. Is that okay?”

He subtly nodded against her forehead, and Bo wasted no time, tilting her head and pressing her mouth to his. Din did as instructed and to her surprise, brought one of his ungloved hands to her cheek, thumb smoothing over her temple.

The kiss was chaste, but that was alright. They could both benefit from taking their time with this.

Bo pulled away, brushing his forehead with her own as she did so in a final gesture of affection, and he sighed contentedly at the comfortable intimacy of it. This was more than enough for now.

The rest of the evening was spent in relaxed conversation, the bottle of wine eventually running out. By that time, both wore significantly fewer pieces of armor, their bodies nearly wrapped around each other as they enjoyed this rare moment of calm together. Din couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps every night could be like this…

In the early morning hours, he finally left for his own quarters, the gentleman that he was, not wanting to cause any more of a stir than they already had. He was bolder this time, when he kissed Bo goodbye in front of her door, finding the courage to press his lips more firmly against hers and allowing her to guide their mouths in slightly more passionate movement. It was clumsy on his part, but it was good, nonetheless. He would get there eventually.

Din was practically beaming with happiness, much like a lovestruck teenager, as he dropped the helmet back over his head and turned to walk back toward his own room.

Hopefully, there would be many more such evenings to come.

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Thank you for reading!

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