Summary: Din thinks that he's broken and that you're an angel. You try to convince him that he isn't a monster.
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It is a fact that you are an angel.
His helmet is off, allowing you to hear his true voice and see his face for the first time in thirty-six hours. Your husband's face is worn; his forehead creased with stress and dry flakes of blood are peeling all around his hairline. The chase has hit him hard, probably harder than it had hit you. You knew he did most of the work when it came to catching the bounty.
Din had practically thrown the precious beskar down on the table as soon as he entered the Razor Crest again. The man had grown to hate wearing the helmet. At this point, he wasn't even able to trick himself into wearing it unless it was absolutely necessary.
He didn't love his helmet. He didn't even like it. How could he?
Not when wearing it meant that he was heading into a situation that could potentially harm you and his adopted son. Not when the helmet meant chipping the beskar on his body that is so kriffing rare and expensive or having to battle bounties that would leave him worn out for hours upon hours. Not when putting it on meant having to leave the only two people in the world that make him feel like he's home.
Not when taking it off meant seeing your face, how his cyare riduur's [beloved spouse's] face would light up and shower him with a thousand kisses, each one showing how much they loved him. Not when you'd stare directly into his eyes and run your fingers through the hair that's probably disgusting and matted with sweat and blood. Not when you give him the Keldabe Kiss afterward and grab his hand to lead him to the Child. Not when he feels so warm and safe and nice inside when you're with him.
His mind had grown used to associating negative feelings with putting on the helmet and positive ones with taking it off. Soon, he'd have to put it on again. But he didn't think that it would be as bad, knowing that it was to see his son's face again.
Din's mind swirled, returning to the question of who the Child would hug first. He had enough of diving down into such a negative headspace. You weren't looking at his face right now, but he knew that you were worried about him. It was blatant by your act of trying to cheer him up. You had brought the topic up right after he launched the 'Crest out of hyperspace and into Sorgan's vibrant atmosphere, just a few minutes after the helmet was taken off and he'd entered that downward spiral.
The womp rat had formed a habit of running full speed towards people that left his sight for more than five minutes at a time, then hugging them. Well, not all people. It was more like just you and Din.
You had said that the baby would go straight to him and he had said the opposite. Din knew that you would lose the game. The Child loved you immensely.
And more often than you, it was Din who left. So he had a stronger bond with you, and it would be you that the baby would go to first.
The Child had been left in Cara's care while the two of you were gone. And while her version of "caring" might've been questionable, both you and Din had no doubt that he'd be safe. An ex-shock trooper-turned-mercenary has got to be a good babysitter, right? At least, that's what you tried convincing yourselves.
