Star Wars Oneshots

A Gentle Boba (BD)

A/N: currently simping for BobaDin, heh. Decided to try writing some myself, it's based off some post on Tumblr that I lost so... yeah.

And I'm trying to learn Mando'a, let me know if you want me to include that in here (with translations of course)! Another thing: translations at the beginning, the end, in the comments (inline or one at the end), or directly next to the words?

Din's Point of View

Din fired a shot into the shadows where blaster fire had been coming from, trying to protect the entrance to the vault Boba was inside. Why were there so many of them? This was supposed to be a covert operation!

Din continued blasting his way through all the oncoming attackers -- probably all bounty hunters, here solely for him.

In between shots, Din wondered about why they were after him. Had Bo-Katan sent them to slay the so-called ruler? How high was the price on his head now, anyways?

The comms crackled to life. "Alright, regroup at the ship, I've got what I need," Boba's low voice said.

"Copy that," Din replied, and he heard Fennec do the same. Boba erupted from the door, a few guards on his heels. Din mowed them down with ease, guarding their backs while Fennec cleared a path to the Slave I.

Shots ricocheted off Din's beskar, and he grunted at the sudden pain.

"Almost there," Fennec yelled, a steady stream of fire coming from her rifle. Boba was killing those on either side of him, trying to protect all angles of possible fire towards the small group.

Din craned his neck to look at the back of his long blaster, checking how many shots it had left.

He didn't get to read the level because a shot managed to slip between his helmet and his pauldrons, burning through the thin fabric covering his neck and scraping the soft skin.

He cried out in pain once before forcing his jaw shut and restricting his noise-making abilities.

Just as well, because with a final few shots from Fennec, the trio reached the Slave I. Using the controls on his arm, Boba opened the door and Din crawled in, closely followed by Boba, while Fennec kept it clear.

"Strap in," Boba said, making his way quickly to the cockpit and preparing the ship for takeoff.

Fennec scrambled in, closing the hatch behind her and buckling up next to Boba. They took off, quickly breaking through the thin atmosphere and entering hyperspace, charting a course for Tatooine.

Then, he allowed Fennec to take over, climbing back into the passenger hold where Din was trying not to move his neck and wincing every time he did, looking for a medpac.

"I saw you get hit pretty bad out there," Boba said. "Allow me to assist you with your injury."

"It is under my helmet," Din replied, wetting his chapped lips. "I cannot let you."

"It is not far under. Please, just lift it slightly, I will not see your face." Boba looked up from Din's neck and their visors met.

Din held his gaze for over a minute. "All right," he finally conceded. Glancing towards the cockpit, he added, "But not here."

"Follow me," Boba said, and Din stood, tilting his head to protect his wound from his helmet.

Boba's Point of View

Boba led him into his personal quarters, which was nothing fancy, just a bed, some ration packs and water, and a larger medpac than the standard ship type.

"Sit," Boba commanded softly.

Din complied, watching as Boba moved to the medpac and opened it before moving to Din once more.

"Let me see," he breathed through his modulator.

Din grasped his helmet between two hands, lifting just slightly and exposing the open wound on his neck. Boba tried to quiet his breathing to be a more polite level as he leaned closer, inspecting the slightly bloody, burned flesh.

He quickly slipped off his gloves, moving his hand back to the site of the shot. Placing it on Din's pauldrons first so as not to startle him, he moved it slowly towards the cut and felt around the sore, feeling for burned skin.

"Bacta will fix this," Boba said, hand still on Din's neck, though more cupping the back than feeling the wound.

Noticing that Din's breathing had sped up, he quickly removed his hand. Was that too much? Boba busied himself with the bacta, spreading a thick coating onto his fingertips and moving back to Din.

He sat next to him on the bed, using his right hand to cradle Din's helmet and the left to gently rub the cool gel into the wound.

Din sighed contentedly as the skin began to stitch itself up.

Boba continued to massage the knots out of Din's warm skin, muscles tightening at first, then gradually loosening the longer Boba's hands strayed.

Boba leaned back against the wall, Din following and moving even closer. He was almost on top of the other.

His other arm wrapped around Din as the first returned to cradle the gleaming beskar helmet. 

Din's head turned from looking at where his hands were worrying the sheets to look into Boba's visor.

He tugged off his gloves, still holding Boba's gaze.

Then he twined their fingers together.

Boba tried to hide his gasp, stifle it before it came out, but that failed. And Din had noticeably stiffened.

Din's fingers began to caress Boba's, so gently, like the sensation was one to be savored.

And Boba closed his eyes.

They sat like that for a few minutes before Boba decided it was time for something more.

So slowly, he moved his helmet forward until the metal forehead connected with Din's.

Clink.

Boba held his breath, remaining in the same position.

A soft pressure came against Boba's helmet. His eyelids fluttered shut. 

Din liked him. He had returned the mirshmure'cya. 

Boba smiled and slowly eased the pressure, pulling back to look Din in the visor. He patted his lap, and Din swung his legs over it, tucking his helmet on Boba's pauldron and wrapping his arms around his back. Boba melted at the touch, returning the gesture and using his hands on Din's hips to draw him in closer.

It seemed like a heartbeat later that Fennec was yelling, "Set to land on Tatooine! Get your lazy shebs over here!"

Din sighed and clambered off of Boba's lap, bringing their helmets together once more before Boba scrambled off the bed and back to the cockpit.

Translations:

Mirshmure'cya = Keldabe kiss, an affectionate gesture used as an armored greeting.

Shebs = butt.