Brown Eyes

The Wall

<A/N> Play the song "Bad Things" by Rayland Baxter when Y/N is done with her water and then thank me later and if your feeling frisky add  "The Wall" PatrickReza to the up next.  If you don't have any triggers don't read the warnings bc it gives things away.

But if you are triggered by the following **TRIGGER WARNING** -Nightmares - talk/description of blood- teeth falling out-overhearing masturbation-masturbation. please read with care.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you shouldn't be playing with broken gears kid?" Mando reached down and grabbed the small noncommissioned gear from the little green child. His annoyance spurred from the little guy's seemingly effortless ability to get his hands on the broken repulser-lift part was evident in his voice, even though the modifier in his helmet.

"He's just playing though. I don't understand why you have to be such a nerf herder about what he plays with, it's not like you have toys for him and he is just a child." you started baby talking at Baby for the second half of your sentence.

"I can't have him hurting himself." Din snapped at you again, that was probably the fourth time today so you brushed it off with ease. You put your hands up palms facing him in surrender unwilling to fight with him about trivial things anymore today. At first, it was entertaining to push his buttons but it was just becoming repetitive at this point. 

He scoffed at you as he turned forward to look out the cockpit plexiglass and into the galaxy that you were all trudging through at an annoyingly slow pace. The moment his back was turned you swiftly picked up the discarded gear and handed it back to the Child with a smile, for the third time today.

Sure, you knew the kid shouldn't be playing with broken metal but it was far too funny that you didn't give two bantha ticks about the consequences; plus it was true the poor little guy didn't have any toys and he was smart enough not to suck on it or anything. Turning on your heels, you descended back down to the corridor of the ship looking for something to occupy your time with. It had only been two days but you were beyond kriffing bored. The lack of social interaction made you sad. At least at home you had the ability to be constructive around the hut, or focus on staying alive. Here you had a baby and a man who wouldn't take off his doshing helmet or talk to you unless it was to insult you or call you Wicket (which you still hadn't cracked the code on.)

He refused to call you by your real name, although every time he called you 'Wicket', 'insufferable' or whatever pet name he was using that moment,  you would correct him with your given name.  You had squeezed his name out of him yesterday after calling him cyborg and then every model of droid you had memorized, GH-7, R5, RA-7, you couldn't remember which one finally got him to spit his name out but you were pretty sure it was one of those three.

Pushing the button on the wall, you waited for the doors to slide open when you heard Din turn and grab the gear away from Baby yet again as he let out a small disappointed coo. You couldn't help but chuckle as you walked down into the small living quarters, you weren't going to apologize for keeping yourself entertained. He had refused any kind of droid on board and he had a holoprojector but wouldn't let you use it. It was for 'Mandalorian business', not for 'amusement.' He was a giant fucking metal stick in the mud.

There was little literature on board and you'd already read through the Mobile Carbonate Freezing Systems manual, and it was incredibly fascinating. With little else to do, you found yourself tidying the ship. Cleaning was not something you particularly enjoyed but having a project kept you from going insane. Plus this place was fucking gross and you were pretty great at cleaning ships. Din must have taken this ship right off the Empire because there were at least 40 years worth of mud caked to the floor. Scrubbing the refresher was the first thing you had done and it was by far the dirtiest of the shared spaces. You spent nearly four hours on that room alone. The Razor Crest began to shine and it offered you a small sense of accomplishment. No matter how trivial it had been it was a victory, and it made you feel more welcomed in the space. After pushing enough sand to cover Jakku out of the airlock and scrubbing the bristles right off a wash brush, you were finally able to walk through the ship in your socks.