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

Din listened.

As before, an asterisk will be placed before and after a potentially upsetting scene.

18th Feb 2020

Din stumbled down the stairs.

Literally. He thought he must've caught his foot on something because when he was halfway down the stairs, he tripped and fell the rest of the way. It was the single most embarrassing thing he'd ever done, and to make matters worse, Pedro was staring at him with a bewildered expression on his face.

It wasn't until Din got back on his feet that he realised Pedro wasn't the only one in the room. There, on the couch, was the very person he had been trying not to think about.

And Din wasn't wearing his fucking helmet.

He stared. Pershing stared right back. Pedro glanced between the two of them warily.

"Why is he here?" Din hissed.

"I didn't invite him, if that's what you're thinking," Pedro sighed.

Immediately Din noticed the distinct difference in Pedro's voice. It was hoarse, and quiet, like it physically pained him to talk. And upon closer inspection, he could see the hair stuck to his forehead and the prominent bags under his eyes. He's sick.

And suddenly, it was like the doctor's presence didn't even matter anymore. Din sped over to Pedro, grabbing his arm and placing the back of his hand on Pedro's forehead. He immediately withdrew it, hissing and grabbing his hand.

"You're boiling!"

"Hm," Pedro hummed. "I noticed."

"No, I mean, you're boiling. I've held hot iron cooler than that."

"Well, that can't be good."

"You're delirious."

"Probably."

Din huffed, then, took Pedro's shoulders and pushed him onto the couch. "You're going to rest."

"I tried that already."

"Then try harder."

"You're such a hypocrite."

Din grumbled something under his breath as he trudged to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with cold water. He sauntered back over with a frown, then shoved the glass in Pedro's direction. "Drink it before you keel over and die."

Pedro rolled his eyes, but took the glass anyway, and took a few small sips.

Din had almost forgotten about the doctor entirely until he turned around and saw the man staring at him incredulously.

"...Hi?" Pershing mumbled.

They stared at each other.

"Please tell me this is the actor and not the actual doctor," Din deadpanned.

"Sorry," Pedro croaked. "Omid isn't even in LA right now."

Din heaved a great sigh. "Fuck it, then, right?" He groaned, running his hands over his face. "Great."

"I should have warned you."

"No, no, no, it's fine. It's fine. It's fine. I'm fine."

Din slumped down onto the couch, his hands still covering his face, almost protectively. He groaned again then muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"I'm sorry," said the doctor. "I didn't mean to violate-"

"Shut up," Din hissed. He felt Pedro whack his arm.