Din Djarin/Mando/The Mandalorian: One Shots, Imagines, etc.

Happy Fourteenth pt. 3

A/N: requested by joycecruzquintero (guys this is gonna end up as a frickin saga)

Warnings: pregnancy, made up pregnancy symptoms, vomit, swearing maybe?

Transalations: buir = father/mother, ad'ika = little one

Word Count: 1251

You and your buir had stopped off at the Tusken camp for a while. You'd been mid - hunt when your father managed to sustain a nasty gash in his thigh from a dirty viroblade. He hadn't been able to walk very well, so when you spotted Tuskens, you called out to them - you weren't quite sure of your pronounciation, but Din had told you it was okay.

In fact, he was pretty proud of you and how you'd taken over when dear old dad wasn't really available.

So, that's how you end up here, leaning against each other by the Tuskens' crackling campfire. Your head rests against Din's shoulder, his arm around you as he prods gingerly at his leg wound, wrapping it with the bandages that the Tuskens had supplied. They were kind, despite their vicious appearance and the more vicious way the people of Tatooine talked of them. Koran had helped with it all - immediately taking a liking to the other massiffs and proving your trustworthiness to the Tuskens.

You aren't quite sure where Koran is now; it's unusual for her to not be by your side, but you assume it's because of her sudden exposure to others of her kind. Vaguely, you can hear the growls of massiffs, and you guess she's with them. You aren't worried for her - if she can hold her own in fights against bounty hunters, she'll be fine establishing her dominance with the other massiffs - if that's what it comes to.

You yawn and glance up at your buir as he shifts a little in the sand.

'We'll be able to leave tomorrow, ad'ika,' he says. 'They're letting us stay for the night.'

''Kay,' you mumble.

'Where's Koran?'

You grunt sleepily. 'Making friends.'

Your eye drift closed as you stare into the flickering orange flames as they leap high like Twi'lek dancers. Koran slinks over to your side, nosing against your arm, and a dreamy smile oozes onto your face as you gently rub her snout. She lays her head in your lap as sleep takes you in its arms and bears you away into a world of dreams.

~

It's been a few weeks since you and your buir got back from the Tusken camp and left Tatooine. The sound of Koran's claws pattering against the metal floor of the Crest sound, and you glance up from your book and lean down, scratching her head. She growls contentedly, when you hear your buir's voice.

'Ad'ika, where's Koran?'

You sense the urgency in his voice, and stand up from where you were curled up in your father's pilot chair, putting down your book. 'Up here, with me. Why?'

'Is she okay?'

You inspect your massiff, who blinks innocently up at you as she searches your pockets for treats. 'Yeah... she seems fine.'

'Has she vomited up there?'

You jolt. 'What?'

'Because unless you vomited on three different parts of the floor and decided not to tell me, it has to be her.'

Quickly petting her snout, you slide down the ladder and skid to a halt just before you step in a pile of massiff vomit. Frowning, you stare down at it. Koran doesn't seem to be unwell, as far as you can tell - there's only been a few times when she's caught some illness, and she always acted a bit off. Somehow, that makes the puddle of stomach fluid and half digested food in front of you more worrying. What if she doesn't know she's been sick? If she thinks she feels completely fine after just vomiting three times, that's definitely not a good sign.