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grippingbeskar · 2 years

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The Element of Surprise | Part 8

Chapter Eight: The Stranger

mando x fem!reader

series masterlist here

warnings: slight sexual context, mentions of violence, swearing i think? i can’t remember i think so lmao

word count: 4.9k

a/n. : pls excuse any mistakes i just wanna post this chapter but i’ve been super busy w school and shit but enjoy pls!! thanks for all the luv ❤️ also it might take me a few days to write the next chapter, i’ve got a lot of shit to day but hopefully will have it finished on sunday!! oxoxoxox okay bye

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“Hey. Focus.” You keep your eyes closed as you try to get Grogu to put his mind on the task at hand. The excitement that you felt when he showed you images of food through the Force has worn off now, as that is all he sends, even after being fed more than he should have.

You admit you are not entirely focused either, but how could you be after the events of mere hours ago happened, not meters from where you now sit with the child.

The Mandalorian didn’t say much after the little green demon jumped out of his chamber that you hoped to God was soundproof. He just picked up helmet, slid off your blindfold with delicate movements, and walked up the ladder. That was about three hours ago, and hes been flying ever since. You weren’t sure if its just because hes the Mandalorian, and he doesn’t talk much at the best of times, and you also weren’t exactly sure what you would say to him even if he did come down here. You definitely weren’t going up there. So, you got the kid and started doing what you were technically hired to do – teach.

This lesson was going about how you expected – bad. Grogu feeds off whatever energy you put out, and there was no way you could focus your mind enough to produce the clear, concise messages that were necessary for him to latch on to when your mind was up the ladder and in the pilots chair. Grogu looked at you, giant eyes filled with guilt, and you realised you had been short with him.

“Oh, I’m really sorry buddy. C’mere.” You open your arms and he waddles into them, happily gurgling when he realises you’re not angry at him. “I’m the one who needs to focus.”

Deciding to try a different approach, you fetch the tiny ball that Grogu has snatched off some gear stick in the cockpit, and motion for him to levitate it. Immediately it flies into his hand and the baby laughs, his little teeth showing as he does. You pull it back from him, slowly floating it through the air.

This requires minimal focus for you, it’s one of the first things you could truly master. You father said the way you ground yourself to the Force is the reason you can move objects so easily – you connect to every part of every thing around you, inanimate or not, and that makes you able to feel and manipulate even the smallest of wavelengths. You let it drift higher, and then lower as your hands stay behind your back – the ball moving only with the instructions of the thoughts in your head. You let it drift down to the floor and step back, wanting Grogu to try.

He strains, and you can feel him focusing all of his energy on the ball in front of him. The more you train with him, the more aware you are becoming of your own abilities, and you feel that now, even as you train your thoughts on the baby, you can feel the Mandalorian upstairs, his energy wafting through the ship almost akin to radiation – unavoidable and burns your skin. Its also through this awareness that you know he gets out of his chair and is heading towards the ladder. At the same time, the baby, trying to keep the ball in the air, loses control and flings it sideways, and it makes a ‘ping’ sound as it bounces off the Mandalorian’s beskar covered head.

Both you and Grogu look at each other, him thinking it’s the funniest thing in the world and you just trying to avoid the intensity of his stare.

“Hes never going to stop doing that now.” The modulator vibrates through the baby’s laughter, and you see him picking up the ball and aiming it, ready for round two. As unsure as you are about what’s going to happen next, Grogu never fails to make you smile.

“Well, the point of the lesson was to take aim, so if he can hit you in the head again, he gets an A.” You motion your hand at him and he lets it fly, hitting the helmet straight between the eyes. He erupts into laughter again, and so do you as an emotionless mask stands there, his shoulders shaking slightly, maybe with laughter.

“A+ little guy.” He bends down to pick up the baby, and he almost instantly falls asleep in his arms. You forgot that before you, it was just the two of them, but seeing how they interact makes you want to imagine all the time they spent together. It almost makes you a little sad, thinking of how he was alone out here, not even able to communicate between the two of them. They didn’t seem to mind though, a bond between the Mandalorian and the baby dead asleep in his arms evident and strong.

The baby is placed gently back into his crib, and it shuts on its own. It is then you notice the bag slung over the Mandalorian’s shoulder.

“You going out?”

“Yes. We are.” We? You nearly squeak out of surprise and excitement and nerves, but you remain as collected as possible. “Usually Id bring him too, but he seems pretty tired.” His head flicks to the baby’s closed crib and you nod.

“What are we doing?” you bend to pick up your backpack that had laid abandoned on the ship floor for the past week – still not entirely sure of its contents but swinging it over your shoulder, nevertheless.

“Out of tracking fobs, remember?” You think back to the guy he shot on one of your first nights here, and you remember a conversation about him needing to get a new job, but honestly anything before he made you finish in his hand in the same spot hes standing now has flown out of your memory.

“Right. Sure.” You have no idea how to act around him, and if he didn’t make you nervous before, the way he walks toward you and takes the bag off your shoulder, swinging it over his own makes your heart jump out of your throat. You blink up at him, and for once hes not looking at you, instead opening the door to the planet you have somehow landed on. “Wait. Where are we?” There hasn’t been a single time you’ve landed where you’ve known where you’re going, but you’re starting to like the thrill of the adventure.

“Nevarro.” You nod. You have no idea where that is, and he could tell. “Volcanic planet in the Outer Rim. Home of the Guild.”

“I knew that.”

“Of course you did.” He steps off the ramp, and turns back slightly to make sure your following, and you are.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Following him into the cantina, once again you are reminded how feared he actually is. People from planets all over move out of his way, eyes trail you and whispers follow as he motions you into a booth, sitting next to you rather than opposite.

The booth is small, which means his body is pressing you into the wall beside you, but it also means he is pressing into you, so you are not about to complain. You begin to think about why he may of chosen this particular seating arrangement when he speaks.

“We will be quick. I just have to pick up a couple tracking fobs, then we can pick up some supplies on the way back to the ship. Try to let me talk, okay?” you nod, happy to let him take the lead in this.

He was a professional, after all, and unless you had to steal the fobs off whoever you were meeting with, you were sure he could do a better job than you. His hand slides under the table, coming to rest on your thigh, and you aren’t sure if you should tense up completely or relax under his touch, your body fighting to do both.

“Are we- are you okay?” You nod rapidly, trying to signal you are very okay with where his hand is right now, and subconsciously trying to tell him you were also okay with where his hand was this morning, but any further attempts are halted when you are joined by a man who sits opposite you.

“Mando. It’s been too long, my friend.” He slides a drink in front of him, and the Mandalorian slides it towards you. You look up and take the drink, making eye contact with the smiling stranger, who is now staring right at you. “You always did have a thing for picking up strays.” He gives the man beside you a pointed stare, and then looks back at you. “And what might your name be?” you resist the urge to look at the Mandalorian before answering and tell him your full name.

The strangers’ eyebrows cross together, and the man beside you straightens.

“What?” comes a modulated voice, full of concern.

“I know that name. Your father was a fierce fighter. I was sorry to see him go, my dear. Greef Karga.” He extends a hand to you, and you shake it. Your father’s death happened long ago, and as much as you loved him, hearing his name mentioned doesn’t affect you as much as it used you, but hearing it from this man more than piques your interest.

“You knew him?” You know the Mandalorian said to let him do the talking, but you can’t let this go.

“In my time as a magistrate, yes. But that was long ago. I’ve… changed career paths.” You knew your father did diplomatic work, so there’s no surprises there. For a second you thought he might have been affiliated with the Guild. You just nod, shrinking back a little with the drink that you now realise is alcoholic, sipping it lightly and allowing the two men to talk.

When you say talk, you mean mostly Greef talking and the Mandalorian nodding, extending a hand and taking four trackers, sliding them into his bag.

“So talkative, this one.” Greef says to you after the business deal seems to be over. You smile as the man besides you stifles a grunt. “Well, it was lovely to meet you. Hopefully this whole grump act doesn’t dampen your time here on Nevarro. Stay, have a meal, on me.” He smiles, and your stomach grumbles at the thought of an actual cooked meal.

“That would be incredible. I’m starving.” You smile, and the Mandalorian looks over at you. Even with the helmet on you can tell hes not happy about it.

“Perfect. Ill have it sent over. Enjoy your night.” He winks as he leaves, and the silver helmet watches him leave before he turns to you, seeing you finish the drink he slid you before he speaks.

“What happened to letting me do the talking?” His words are slightly harsh, and its obvious he doesn’t want to be here.

“He knew my dad. I had to-“

“Not that. The staying part. For dinner. You’re not doing that.”

“Yes. We are.” You repeat his earlier words to him. “Its your fault anyways.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. If you had a single thing on that ship to eat rather than portion bread and nails, I wouldn’t be practically starving to death.” You can see food heading towards you, and as the waitress lays it on the table, steaming hot, the smell fills your senses, making your mouth water.

You start eating immediately. You do feel slightly guilty that he can’t eat with you, but he doesn’t seem to mind, more pissed off with the fact he has to be on this planet longer than three seconds.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You say to him, staring straight into the black slit in his helmet. The warmth from the alcohol you are drinking spreads through you; not drunk but feeling something.

“How would you know how I’m looking at you?”

“I can just tell. You’re looking at me like ‘can this idiot hurry up so we can get off this planet which I hate as much as the rest of the planets so we can go to the next planet I hate’.”

“Hmm.” He says lowly, and you expected a lighter tone from him, so you question it.

“No? Then please, tell me. Why are you looking at me like that?”

He goes quiet, and even though its normal for you two to sit in silence, this one feels… different. Uncomfortable? Not exactly, but definitely not easy. You shift in your seat, impossible to move at all without touching him. You feel bolder than usual, the second drink you’re currently finishing helping with the confidence boost.

You’ve got – what? A few weeks at the least stuck in close quarters with this man, maybe months – who knows how long? You can’t blast past the fact that he was literally inside of you a few hours ago, and you don’t want to move on either. There’s no way you can deny how he makes you feel any longer, and you won’t give him the opportunity to do the same

“Why did you leave before?” You don’t look at him and instead focusing on taking the third drink a waitress hands you, immediately downing half of it. He stills, not even his chest moves to indicate hes breathing.

“I thought you’d want to be alone.” Hes unsure of himself, speaking low.

“Well, I didn’t. Also, leaving without saying anything? At all? For hours? Kind of a dick move.” His head moves back slightly, you can see the gears turning in his head, thinking about how to respond. You have no idea what’s come over you but staring at the three empty glasses on the table, you think that might have something to do with your sudden outburst of confidence.

There’re a few moments of silence. The cantina buzzes around you, low voices speak in the few booths in front and behind you, but you can’t listen for any voice apart from his. Did you take that too far? It was true, you’d been left feeling alone and kind of stupid when he just walked back up the ladder, leaving you with your pants around your thighs and your self-esteem fractured slightly.

Playing the silent game with the Mandalorian is a game you don’t think you will win, but damn him if you wouldn’t try. He should say something. Explain himself at least. Even if he was to tell you it was a mistake and won’t happen again (though your pretty sure your heart couldn’t handle it) it would be better than hanging in this weird in between phase.

He clears his throat, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him do so. You look down and see his hand balled up; hes nervous. You can’t decide if you find that adorable or irritating, considering his confidence just hours ago.

“Im- I’m sorry. I didn’t really know what to say. I don’t usually do… that. I didn’t mean to be a-” You resist the urge to reach out and hug him, his gentle tone softening you instantly. “A dick.”

A small laugh escapes you, only because hearing him say that sounds so foreign coming from him.

“Its okay.”

“Really. I’m sorry, I wanted to but I –“you reach a hand out to him, placing it lightly on his thigh next to his own, and he stops talking.

“Its fine. Next time, stay though.”

“Next time?” he says, and you nearly get whiplash from how fast his demeanour changes. He moves the hand resting beside you to ever so slightly brush your opposite shoulder, giving you shivers.

“Mhmm” the warmth from the alcohol and his touch mix in your lower stomach, and you haven’t forgotten about the hand that currently rests on his thigh. You slide it upwards, only an inch, and his head drops to watch your movement. “Besides, there’s another reason I didn’t want you to leave so fast.”

You move it up again, just another inch, stretching your pinkie finger towards the top of his leg. His head shoots behind him, making sure no one is looking, and you take this opportunity to lean over to where you’re pretty sure his ear is, though your vision is slightly askew, and you end up just leaning your forehead on his helmet, and you forget what you were going to say as his arm drops around you, nearly pulling you onto his lap.

“Tell me. I want to hear it.” You swallow, trying to think back to five seconds ago when you had all that extra confidence. “Don’t get shy now. Tell me what you wanted to do.” This is a thing then. Who would have guessed the Mandalorian liked to talk?

“Am I interrupting something?” Greef says from the end of your table. Fucking hell. You cant catch a break. You slide back to your side of the booth, but the Mandalorian keeps his arm around you. “Just wanted to give you this, Mando. Think of it as a gift for your friend here.” The Mandalorian takes the tiny piece of metal you know to be a tracking fob.

Didn’t he already give him the four? The device lights up, showing the hologram of the bounty. Wait – you’ve seen this man before… but where?

“I thought you might recognise him.” Greef chuckles, snapping your attention to him. “Part of the crew that are responsible for your father’s untimely demise. Take it if you want, don’t if you don’t, but I had a feeling you might be the type interested in a little revenge.” You reach out to take the fob from the Mandalorian’s gloved hand, but he closes a fist and just shoves it in his bag.

“Were leaving.” He pulls you out of the booth, not even giving you a chance to ask any questions as Greefs figure disappears into the crowd of the cantina and you are pulled back into the city of Nevarro.

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“No.”

“No? Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Just – I’m not telling you what to do. I’m trying to keep you from walking into a trap.” You had started arguing with him as soon as you left Greef Kargas cantina, and now, as you walk through the small market place, carrying two bags of fruit and packaged food, you are not going to give up now.

“A trap? Not because you already got your four bounties? Or is it because you don’t think I can-“you are suddenly pulled into a side alley, the Mandalorian’s chest pressing you into hard brick.

“Stop.” He commands and you listen. “Its not because I doubt that your capable, nor do I care how far away it is from the other trackers – which it is. But, I know Karga. Hes dirty, and he never does anything out of kindness. Giving this to me – to us, just proves that hes got something else at play.”

“How?” He doesn’t sigh like you expect, his patience with you never wearing thin, even when you would have snapped three arguments ago.

“Why give this to me now? In front of you? If he needed this guy in that bad, he would of gave it to me weeks ago. He knows I’m the best chance to bring them in, so why now?”

You consider this, and after a whole five seconds of reflection you know hes right.

“Because he wanted me to see it.” He nods, and releases you from his hold. “But why? He didn’t even know I was there until just before.”

“He must know who you are.” The rest of his sentence hangs in the air, because if he knew your father, and knows you, chances are he also knows about your connection to the Force. “We should get going.”

The Mandalorians concern for you makes you feel guilty instantly. Of course he’s right.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Its just - when he said that about my father, I never knew exactly what happened to him, why it happened. I guess I wanted to jump at the first sign of an answer. I should have let you handle it.” You remember your mother telling you your father was dead and getting on the first ship you could find and taking off, never looking back. Your exit was hasty, your mother shoving you off planet within the same conversation. You knew you had to leave, and she was worried they would come for you next, but it left a whole lot of questions unanswered.

“Its okay. I get why you would.” He looks out to the crowd of people passing by, and you see the sun setting in the distance.

“Do you think someone’s following us?” This is the second time you’ve caught him scanning the place, and for someone who’s usually observant without trying, it makes you worry about the fact that you left the kid in the ship alone.

“I don’t think so. We should go either way, we’ve got enough food to feed an army in there.” He flicks his head to the bags hung around his shoulders, and you look down at the ones your holding, remembering how fast you had to grab the small bag before he did so you could at least feel like you’re doing some of the lifting, him still carrying your backpack underneath the mountain of food.

“With the way your kid eats I wouldn’t be surprised if he chews a hole in the side of the ship by the time we get there.” He laughs, and you realise how much you missed the sound of it.

He leads you out of the alley, weaving his way through the crowd, a testament to how well he knows this city, not even having to look up to know when to turn.

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It feels like you’ve walked for miles by the time the ship comes into view, the effects of the alcohol wearing off, the long walk doing your mind wonders. The Mandalorian scoops up the baby, who, halfway through his third serving of fruit, is starting to fall asleep while eating. He says something to him, and places him in the cot. Its only then that you realise how late it is, the only light streaming down from the open latch between the main hull and the cockpit, practically lighting a path.

With the kid safely tucked away, you hear the metallic clank of boots on the ladder, and you see a small flash as the helmet turns to look back at you, illuminating him.

“Come on. We should get a head start.”

“I thought you said no one was following us?

“Id rather not stick around to find out.”

You nod, and you can’t control how your feet skip slightly as they head to ascend the ladder. Sliding through the small walkway you step into the cockpit, the Mandalorian already flicking switches and releasing levers, and when the ship pulls off, the motion sends you back into the chair with a soft thud.

You don’t think you’ll ever get sick of this, watching the night sky appear in front of you, surrounded by the tiny white lights coming from all directions. You used to dream of when you would be able to be in space again, not so much for the flying, but what it represented. The freedom to go wherever you wanted, and flying around from planet to planet while also getting to help a cute baby and his hot dad? Pretty much the closest to freedom you ever thought you’d get.

“Hes doing ok, right?” he tilts his head and takes his hands off the switchboard, having brought the ship to a cruising speed.

“Hes amazing. Seriously, what he did this morning usually takes at least a couple weeks of focus for a complete beginner. Took me even longer.”

“Really?” Of course, hes curious about it, its his kid. But the way his voice raises slightly, framing it more as a question makes you think he might be curious about you, too.

You nod before continuing. “Really. Hes gonna kick some serious Jedi ass when you find someone to take him on.” The thought of that inevitable end to your journey makes you sadder than you thought. You know it will come, and by the strength this kid has shown you in the past week, you wouldn’t be surprised if a Jedi walked through the door tomorrow.

“Thankyou. For helping him.” You resist the urge to laugh, only because of the sincerity in his tone. Has he forgotten why you’re here? If anything, you should be the one thanking him.

“it’s the least I can do, after -you know.”

“Shooting me.”

“It was more of a graze.” You meet his stare.

“And trying to steal from me.”

“Yeah. You get that one.” A deep laugh vibrates through the room, and you grin in response. “But really, I want to help. Hes great.” A small ‘hmm’ leaves him, and its clear he agrees, not just in his response but in all his behaviours you’ve observed between him and the baby. Always making sure hes eaten before him, bringing him everywhere he can, only leaving him on the ship when absolutely necessary. Even the way he speaks about him, you can tell there’s a strong bond between them, and that he genuinely cares. “Helping him has actually been helping me too, so I can’t take all the credit.”

“How so?” You take a deep breath before answering. Considering your previous conversations, it’s safe to say you can trust him, and seeing as you’re going to be flying all night, if hes not going to fill up that time with a particular kind of conversation, you might as well take a chance.

“The longer I went without using it – my connection faded. When we left Tatooine, what I had was barely a shadow of what I was able to do when I trained. Even being around him makes me better. Hes stronger than me too, even untrained. This last week I’ve felt stronger than I have in years.”

“Stronger than you?”

“Then I was when I started, definitely. I don’t know where you found him, but that kind of power doesn’t come without a seriously strong bloodline.” You realise you have no idea where he actually came from, but it’s the truth, nonetheless.

“He was a bounty, at first. I tracked him down on Arvarla-7. Couldn’t find it in myself to turn him in, and hes been with me ever since.” Of all the stories you had heard of the Mandalorian, you would never have guessed they had a soft spot for babies, and it sent a warmth straight through your body to think of him, ready to fight or kill whatever he found, only to come home with a tiny green infant in his bag. “He saved my life, too.”

“What?!” You nearly jump out of your chair, your exclamation shattering the calm energy of the dark room. He chuckles warmly, as if fond of the memory.

“I was trying to get an egg from a cave for the Jawas –“the memory of those grimy little dudes makes your skin crawl “- turns out it was a Mudhorn cave. I would have died if he hadn’t floated the thing into the air. Another second and it would have broken my armour and killed me.”

“Holy shit.”

“Exactly.” Your smiling, unsure if this is from the realisation of how much potential Grogu really has, or the fact that the Mandalorian finally opened up to you. “Don’t start using that against me.” He probably says this because he can see you trying to picture how a tiny little baby could take down a giant Mudhorn while he got his ass kicked. “It was huge.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was.”

He sits up slightly. “It was. Angry, too.”

“Mhmm.” You’re still smiling at him, almost smugly.

“Still killed it.” He mumbles and you bust out laughing. Not that you could say you would stand a chance against an animal that big, but his defensive words as he tried to prove his position did nothing but make you giggle.

You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling. You are happy here, you think, and you can only hope that you can make yourself useful for long enough that he doesn’t decide to kick you to the curb as soon as he finds an actual trainer. Your eyes are still closed, so you don’t notice until you finally open them that the Mandalorian now stands in front of you, somehow fitting in the small space left between the controls board and the end of your chair, the way your legs are folded underneath you providing just enough space.

“I want to show you something.” He says, offering you a hand, and when you take it, he pulls you, so the chair swings sideways, and then leads you out of the room. In the pitch black of the hallway, you think he must be taking you downstairs, but he instead turns to the right. You know there’s nothing there, the number of times you’ve come up and down the ladder all you’ve ever seen was a blank panel. “This is what I was doing. When I came up this morning.”

A door opens, and a tiny flickering light emerges from the dark. It doesn’t take any effort for him to lead you into the room, the door swinging shut softly behind.

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