the curious happenstance of pedro pascal and din djarin [The Mandalorian]

Three Thoughts

tw: suicidal ideation

Robert was...

Well. Din wasn't sure.

He looked anxious. Afraid, even as he tried to hide it. He'd run a hand over his mouth. Or through his hair, as if to keep it out of his face, but really it was just nervous habit, almost like a tic.

Din knew what fear looked like. He'd seen it in the eyes of thousands. People the Empire had killed, people he'd killed, and people he'd spared. Peri came to mind, eyes wide and screaming and he's just a child— he'd seen it then. In Pedro, too, as the car crashed and rebounded, breathing unsteady. He remembered all too vividly Christopher's frantic ocean eyes staring, pleading, glazed and shaking, as blood poured from gut, stained the floor, I don't want to die. In Sam, Cole, he felt it in his heart, deep and frightening and messy.

For the longest time, Robert wasn't a person, in Din's mind. He was a therapist. A psychologist. Someone to unload trauma onto and then forget about until it was Sunday again. It was easier, then, because now... he was too real. Too much like a person. With thoughts and feelings and flaws. Stubble lined his jaw which meant he hadn't shaved that morning. He was too nervous, too muddled, too afraid to even care. It meant he wasn't thinking straight, and that he might say the wrong thing, or the right thing at the wrong time. He could get distracted, ruin everything. That was too real. Too much.

And beyond that, watching the only person he knew that was actually okay turn into a nervous, trembling mess was fucking terrifying.

"What time are they supposed to get here?" Din asked, for the third time since they arrived. He tugged at the scarf around his face, slowly beginning to remember how much he hated it initially. Especially now, in the warm weather.

"Five minutes," Robert said, but he didn't even spare a glance at his watch. He just somehow knew.

They were in a restaurant. Sat at a table booked under Gabriel's name. Aderman. Gabriel Aderman. First and last name. Now he was becoming real, too.

"What if they don't show?" Din asked.

"They will," Robert said.

"They might not."

"If they don't, then we go home." Robert huffed. An annoyed, indignant sigh. He tapped his fingers against the wooden table, a steady beat, rhythmic, nervous. Din wanted to reach and be a comfort, hold his hand, even— but he couldn't, or, shouldn't.

Five minutes passed, and the cousins were officially running late. Robert's eye was fixed on the door, when someone, anyone entered his entire body would go rigid, like he'd been doused in ice-cold water.

"It'll be fine," Din said, and Robert gave a weak, unconvincing smile. Why so nervous? They were in public. Heidi couldn't do anything without risking prison. She could blow the whole damn place up, true, but— well, Din didn't think she was the type, from little he'd seen and what little he knew.

Lying to Pedro about what he was doing felt... wrong. Gross. Lied to Omera, too, and Peri— how could he possibly explain, on such short notice? They thought that he was just spending time with Robert and it wasn't necessarily a complete lie... but he couldn't risk telling them, not if it could put them in danger. Heidi said two people, two people only. So Din and Robert kept it to themselves. As far as he was aware, not even Elliot knew.

He'd taken the letters with him. Intended on giving them back, depending on how well the meeting played out. He didn't want to think about it not going well.

"I've never met Heidi before." Robert ducked his head and sighed. "She's the only one that could ever have been a danger to myself and my family."

"You met the others?"