The Dance
(Long Ficlet/Short oneshot)
The Mandalorian X G/N reader
Warnings : None - just some fluff
Summary: You share a quiet dance with the Mandalorian
(Inspired by the song Perfect - Ed Sheeran)
The music floats through the air as you watch the array of colours exploding below you in the city; tiny dots of people moving, creating waves of rainbows dancing across the streets. When the Mandalorian had landed the Razor Crest, he hadn't told you why. You assumed it was just another bounty. You weren't there to ask questions, so you patiently waited for him to tell you how long he would be gone this time. Your heart ached each time he left. His quiet presence in the ship had become more of a comfort than the silence that enveloped you in his absence.
"It's Life Day. I thought you'd want to see the parade… From a safe distance." Ever cautious in uncertain times. You knew he never liked to go into the bigger towns if he could avoid it. You hadn't even thought the Mandalorian had remembered Life Day, and although you missed the festivities, you hadn't wanted to bring it up. Your excitement had burned through you and you’d all but run down the ramp to look at the town the second he'd opened the doors.
That had been over an hour ago now, and the Mandalorian seemed content to let you stay as long as you wanted. You curl your toes into the grass, enjoying the feeling of the almost sharp blades between your toes, so soft compared to the cold, hard metal of the ship you’re used to.
"Do you want to dance, Mando?" You smile, lifting yourself up on your toes into a spin, throwing your arms up as you let the music flow through you.
"No. Thank you." Comes the modulated response. You stop, turning to look at him with a tilt of your head. His beskar glints a soft display of orange and pink in the hazy sunset light. In a way, it seems to soften the hard edges of his armour. He’s barely looked up from cleaning his weapons since you landed, but at times, you could swear that you feel his eyes on you. Although, it’s hard to tell from under his helmet. Every time you’d turn around to check, he'd seem busy and taking no notice of you at all.
"Not even a little dance?" You tease, wiggling your fingers at him, trying to tempt him over. You know the answer before he speaks it, so it comes as no surprise.
"Not even a little dance."
