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

That went well.

"Din? Din is that you? Oh my god."

"Pedro." Din released a heavy, pent up sigh into the phone's speaker. He closed his eyes, slowly sinking into the bed. "Hi."

"Chris said there was an explosion, and-"

"We're fine. We're all okay."

"He said you broke your arm. Fuck. What happened? He refused to tell me shit."

"I don't know how much I can say. Can I talk to Omera? Please?"

A brief pause, then, "Okay. Okay, I'll go get her. Hold on."

He fell backward onto the bed, his legs dangled over the edge. He put the phone on speaker and rested it on his chest.

"Din?"

Like a floodgate, Din's heart filled with joy. It was her, her voice, her sweet and melodic and kind voice. He thought he'd never hear it again, down there in that labyrinth he thought he would simply die without ever hearing her voice ever again, but- she was there.

He didn't bother to hide his sob of relief. "Omera," he whispered. "Hey."

A flutter in his chest, his stomach, heart pounding hard and fast in his ears, by the gods, I'm in love.

"You're okay! Oh, you're okay. I was so worried. I couldn't sleep, I had a terrible dream, and the bed is cold without you, Din, and-"

"I'm okay, I'm here, please breathe." But this was a hypocritical thing to say, as he'd been holding his breath, too.

"What happened? Please, tell me what happened."

"I can't say. Not now, not over the phone. But when I get back- when I get back, I'll explain. I promise."

"But when will you get back? Where are you?"

Two questions he hardly knew the answer to, and he said as much. "I got knocked out," he said. "I woke up here. Christopher won't tell me much, I don't think he can."

"Knocked out? As in unconscious? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. I'm okay, just a few scratches." And a broken arm. But he didn't mention that.

"Okay. Alright."

Silence. Din couldn't find the words to speak, and truthfully, he didn't much want to. Most of him wanted to just lie there, with her on the phone, not saying a single word to each other. That would be okay, more than okay. He only wished he were with her physically.

"Din?"

"I'm here," he mumbled. "Was just thinking."

"You're really okay?"

At this, he paused. Of course he was okay; the arm stung but he'd broken bones before and any other wounds he'd sustained were minor. There was of course the issue with his lungs, all that smoke, but until he was sent into violent coughing fits he was going to assume that it resolved itself.

But he knew that wasn't what she meant.

"I don't... know," he admitted. "I'm shaken, I guess. It was a lot. Is a lot. To think about."

He heard Omera hum. "I understand. Let me know when you're ready to talk about it."

"I will." A pause. He closed his eyes, willing the bout of emotion to go away, before remembering how Robert would scold him for it. "Thank you," he rasped. "I'm, uh... I'm very tired."

"You should sleep."

"No, no, I meant, just tired, of- of-" he took a deep shuddering breath, "everything."