Crawl Home to Her | Mandalorian x OC

chapter seven

While Kit was no stranger to having returning patrons, having housed a number of traders that came in frequently from neighboring systems. But to have the same Mandalorian come back to her inn felt like something out of a dream. She was surprised when he asked her to only look after the child, not bothering to book a room. Upon his explanation of traveling to Mos Pelgo, she understood. That was a two days journey at best and considering the kid and his knack for messing around, she understood. Still, his innate trust in her to watch over the kid was surprising. She knew she had to keep the child close, not wanting to disappoint or anger the Mandalorian.

Peli would stop by to say hi to the child, describing him to her as twice now she failed to remember to ask for a description. Green, wrinkly, big ears and big brown eyes, and absolutely adorable. That's how the mechanic described him to her. Surprisingly, it wasn't too hard to picture.

"He is paying you to watch that thing, right?" She asked one day as she picked at Kit's R3, needing a bit of a tune up to help with records.

Kit paused mid feeding the child. The Mandalorian said nothing about payment. She would assume he would offer, seeing as he outright refused to take back those 150 credits. But even if he didn't say anything, Kit wouldn't really mind. She fell in love with the kid, it didn't matter if he paid her or not. She genuinely enjoyed taking care of the child.

"We haven't really discussed that," Kit confessed.

She could feel Peli stare at her from over by R3. "You like him, don't you?"

"The kid? Of course, he's a little sweetie!" She cooed as she gave the child another frog leg.

"Not him! The Mandalorian!" Peli clarified.

Kit felt heat rush to her cheeks at her friend's accusation. "Peli! I've only really talked to him barely twice! He just trusts me with the kid, that's all!" Although, despite her refusal, there were times when she found her thoughts drifting off, thinking of the sound of his voice. What she would give to hear his voice without the modulator, but she knew the thought was ridiculous.

"Uh huh, sure." And just like that, Peli dropped the subject, continuing to tinker with R3.

When the Mandalorian came back, she finally managed to ask him about what he looked like. Kit knew she could've just asked Peli, but there was something when people described themselves to her that she found interesting. Like they notice details about themselves that they think others wouldn't notice. At the mention of his armor being beskar, she had to hold herself back from throwing herself at him.

With the loss of her sight, she appreciated more of her other senses. Touch, she found the most fascinating. Hidden in her room, she had a small collection of touch related sensory objects. From the softest silks she could find at the market, to chunks and bits of metal, to weighty rocks that she loved to drag her fingers over. Beskar was a material she'd never touched, she was curious to know what it felt like. Was it cool to the touch? Was it smooth and refined and polished? Was it heavy as gold or light as iron?  But she resigned herself, having already asked her question.

Upon him asking her about losing her sight, she tensed. Kit was more than just her blindness. And not to mention that most of the times, the story of her losing her sight was never important to the conversation. So whenever Kit was asked it, she would answer with the most ridiculous thing she could think of: she looked at the suns too long, got into a sword fight with a gungan, or some other outrageous notion. But she had the feeling that if she said that to the Mandalorian, he wouldn't appreciate the lie, seeing right through it. So she was honest with him. Thankfully the Mandalorian understood it, moving on from that question.

Considering his quest to find Mandalorians and return the child back to his own, Kit was surprised he kept making his way back to Tatooine. But she wasn't about to complain about it. Somehow, they'd fallen into a pattern. He would come in, ask her to watch the child while he went out doing odd bounty hunting jobs, then he'd return to her making dinner. At first he would refuse, but as the meetings continued, eventually he went along. Then there were the questions. Each night he stayed for dinner, they would ask each other a question. She would ask him about other planets, adventures he's been on, ask him to describe each and every one of his weapons. Whilst he would ask similar things: when she got the inn, what were her favorite things to cook. There were times she could tell he was dancing around her blindness; asking if anyone ever gave her trouble, the order of which she organized her things. But she was happy to answer them, regardless. It was like their own little game.

Then there was the subject of payment.

"How much should I give you for watching him?" He asked Kit one day.

"Hmm? Oh, you don't have to," she responded as she dressed the child in clean clothes.

The Mandalorian was silent for a few beats. "You're serious?"

"Of course I am," she said. "Watching over this little bug is enough of a payment for me." She dragged her fingers along the child's torso, giggles erupting from him.

But each time when he would have to leave, she would hear him reach into his pocket for credits, each time she pushed them away. "You need that for fuel and for the kid. Save it."