baby steps

Chapter Five

XXI—Cuddling

The Mandalorian took off his helmet. They were never safe but they were safe enough for him to sleep. The kid stood next to him, a defiant look in his eyes that tells The Mandalorian one thing: he didn't want to go to sleep.

The Mandalorian sighed and took off the rest of his armor. He pulled down his bed from its place in the wall. He picked up the kid and sat down on the thin mattress. "We are going to sleep."

The kid cooed, not listening like usual, choosing to ignore him in favor of snuggling closer. The kid tucked himself against The Mandalorian's ribs. The Mandalorian propped himself up against the ship wall, not wanting to crush the child.

"Sleep."

The kid, of course, didn't listen. His eyes were wide open as he climbed up The Mandalorian. The Mandalorian, totally not being an overprotective father (what are you talking about), kept his hand loosely on the kid's back.

He slid his other arm under the kid for support as he stopped. Finally satisfied with his place as he lowered his head against The Mandalorian's chest. Right over his heart.

He smoothed his hand over the tiny hairs on the kid's head and down his small back, he was still to thin for The Mandaloran's liking. Too fragile, he could feel the kid's backbone, feel his lungs move as he breathed. Maybe that's just how his species is.

Maybe there are others like him out there.

A small (read: huge) part of him feared what would happen if he ever found the kid's people. He'd be happy for the kid to have people like him but could he let the kid go. Could he take if it the kid chose to be with his kind over The Mandalorian? He wouldn't blame the kid, never, how could he?

The kid listened to his heartbeat. There was no way he knew how much he held The Mandalorian's heart in his little hands. The Mandalorian would go to the ends of the universe for him.

The kid listened to his heartbeat, ignorant of his dad's fears. All he knew was they were close and that's all he cared about.

The Mandalorian held him close, the fear didn't go away but it eased.

XXII—Kisses

The Mandalorian woke up with a small start, scared of hurting the kid in his sleep. The kid was still fast asleep, curled close against him, one hand fisted in The Mandalorian's shirt. The Mandalorian blamed some deep instinct for most of his fatherly actions.

This he would blame on it too.

He bowed his head and planted a kiss on the kid's forehead. He held his lips there for too long but he savored this moment of closeness. He never knew what the next day would bring and it was more frightening in this moment than in a long time.

But even if he lived for fifty more years, or even sixty if he was lucky, he still may not see his kid grow up. Different species age differently. Maybe he would go through adolescence fast, maybe he wouldn't have to leave his son when he needs him most.

He knew one day, for whatever reason, he would need to say goodbye. He hoped he had the chance to say goodbye.

He finally pulled back and the kid was now awake, his sleepy eyes drooping and slightly crusted with sleep. The Mandalorian used his thumbs to removes the gunk for his eyes. "Sleep. I'm here."

The kid didn't close his eyes. Sometimes the kid had a sixth sense for when The Mandalorian needed him—and one for trouble—and he must be using it right now because he climbed up The Mandalorian and put a hand on his jaw, little feet standing on The Mandalorian's arm and leaning against the hand he still had on the kid's back.