Crawl Home to Her | Mandalorian x OC

chapter eight

When the Mandalorian asked her for her name, she had to hold back a laugh. Kid had noticed that the Mandalorian failed to ask for her name upon the third time he came back to Mos Eisley. She found humor in it though, already they'd become somewhat friends (at least that's what she liked to think) and he'd failed to ask for her name several times now. With no name to call him or the child, and no name to call her; she fell into the comfortable sense of anonymity. Kit did not think or expect him to give him his own name in return, as if it was important for her to know, he would've told her by now.

But despite the whole name thing, the only thing that was going through her mind was how the vambrace on his arm felt beneath her finger tips. She'd been nervous about asking him about touching his armor, not wanting to offend. So when he told her to take his arm to guide Kit through the tight walkways of the market, she had to hold back her excitement. As she thought, it was cool to the touch, and smoother than gold. Kit spent the remainder of their trip rambling about whatever came to mind in an attempt to distract herself from the fact she was touching beskar.

When they returned and learned of the other Mandalorians he'd met, how they would remove their helmet in the presence of others. . . Would he ever do that? Could he even? All those questions she held back on asking him came flooding to the forefront of her mind, wanting to ask him about his creed. Kit tried to push them back. She didn't want to push that boundary they'd quietly created. But he let her, allowed her to ask her question. Even explaining a few words from his language, words she no doubt butchered.

Deep down inside, Kit began to wonder about the specifics of his creed. Reveal himself to another living being. Keyword being reveal. She was blind, she wouldn't know what he looked like with or without the helmet on. Could he be able to take it off then? Perhaps it was an honor thing. But regardless, seeing or not, she was still a living being. Was that enough to keep his helmet on, she couldn't help but wonder.

However, at the mention of the word 'jedi', Kit felt her body grow tense. She hadn't heard that word in years. Not since her papa had spoken of the loss of her uncle, how he'd gone with the men and never returned. At least not until Kit came around. That was the only time her father saw his brother again. Having seen him only that one time and at such a young age, she could barely remember what he looked like, let alone what he wanted. But her papa always said that it was the Jedi that took his brother. Jedi men. Were those really the same people who the child belonged to? Those who took brother away from brother?

Before she could spiral any further down, the feeling of leather glad fingers grazed over the skin of her forehead, tucking back a curl. She gasped involuntarily at the sudden contact, but soon as his hand recoiled at the sound of her surprise. Part of her wished his hand would return, to gently hold her head in his hands. Trace the side of her face with his orange tipped gloves-

No. Kit shouldn't think like that. She couldn't think like that. Because there was not a doubt in her mind that the Mandalorian only ever thought of her as the child's babysitter, a friend she could hope for. But anything more than that, she didn't think he would reciprocate.

"Mando, it's okay. You just caught me off guard," Kit chuckled nervously, trying to assure the man in front of her as she tried to calm her own mind. She barely even noticed that the child had started to tug on the ends of her hair.

"Din," the Mandalorian suddenly blurted out. Kit furrowed her brows at the word, not quite understanding what it meant. "That's my name. Din Djarin."

Slowly, the corners of her mouth pulled up into a smile "Din," she echoed. One beautiful syllable that rolled off the tongue. Kit repeated it endlessly in her mind. Din. Din. Din. Committing the name to memory. Din. Din. Din.