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

Love

20th March 2020

It was strange.

Peri had only ever seen that look in Christopher. The adoration, euphoria. Like nothing else mattered. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Peri saw it in old photographs, too, that Christopher stored. The day of their wedding, that adoration. That look. It never changed, even after ten years, living through hell. The affection, the devotion, elation in each other's presence. It remained a beautiful constant.

But now he could see it in Djarin. Every morning, when he got up, and Pascal drove him to the hospital. He saw it. And then he would return, much later in the day, with a giddy look on his face, and that pep in his walk, his stance.

It felt strange to see it in that man's eyes.

Even worse, it only served as a reminder for Friday.

A date.

He was... going on a date.

To be really very frankly honest, he'd never been so terrified. He made himself sick, just thinking about it. At the time the adrenaline and the flutter in his chest was enough to keep him going, but, as the week moved by, and the date approached, he was genuinely frightened.

He wasn't surprised when he woke up at 5am the day of and needed to throw up. He barely made it to the bathroom in time, and woke up Pascal in the process of sprinting down the hall.

"Are you okay? You sick?"

He shook his head, but even as he did so he gagged.

"When you're feeling better come out to the kitchen."

He sat there, on his knees and hunched over the toilet bowl for another five minutes before he felt well enough to stand. After rinsing his mouth out he slowly made his way toward the kitchen, where Pascal was propped up on the counter.

"Come here. I want to check your temperature."

Peri leaned on the bench. He scrunched up his face as he felt the thermometer being shoved into his ear. Silence, then an unpleasant beep. The thermometer was pulled out.

"Temperature's fine. No fever. How's the nausea?"

"Fine," Peri grumbled. Pascal sighed.

"Yes, because vomiting into a toilet bowl at five in the morning is 'fine'. You might be sick."

"Jus' my luck."

Pascal dropped down from the counter and put the thermometer to the side.

"What time are you supposed to be there?"

"6pm."

"If you're not feeling better by five, you have to stay home."

Peri glared stubbornly out the window. It was dark, the sun still hadn't risen. Wouldn't for another hour or so.

It really was just his luck. He'd been so looking forward to it. Despite the nerves, he really, really wanted this. He'd been talking to Asher all week, and each time his phone buzzed his heart skipped a beat. He wanted this. To- to be with this person. Asher was beautiful, inside and out. Through and through. He would send photographs of himself making funny faces and he was beautiful then, too.

He knew he wasn't sick. He'd barely even left the house. It was just the damn nerves. He always felt sick when he got anxious. Christopher was the same, but worse, so he knew how to help, but... well, it was five in the morning. Even he didn't stay up that late. Or... early, he supposed.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"Talk to me. You're nervous. It's not going to help."