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Get up.
Din blinks himself awake, stifling a yawn in case the child was still asleep. He leans over to the pod, opening it to check -- the kid is still snoring peacefully, his ears gently lifting up and down as he takes his little breaths. Since the marshal had gotten tired of finding variations of the word “child” to refer to the foundling, he’d gone through Din’s things to find an acceptable inspiration for a name for the kid.
With reference to his sniper rifle, Cobb came up with Amban, and the name had since stuck. The child wasn’t actively against the name and Din couldn’t think of another, so they’d taken to naming him after Din’s Amban sniper rifle.
Because the Razor Crest’s condition is still nothing short of ravaged and thoroughly destroyed, Peli insisted that she and her droids give it a complete repair, make it as good as the day he got it, which meant that he couldn’t leave Tatooine, at least not for another week or two. It’s not convenient, but he also knew having an unstable ship bodes poorly for Amban’s and his own safety. If they got attacked again like they had been on Maldo Kreis by the spiders or sent on yet another chase by the New Republic, Din feared that the Razor Crest could not hold strong.
Leaving it at Mos Eisley with Peli Motto is the best decision for Amban.
He heaves himself up off the bed into a sitting position, running a hand through his hair as he sighs, trying to muster up the strength to face the day. Staying in Mos Pelgo for the past two days has given him and Amban some sense of reprieve, and he loathed to admit that he much preferred waking up in Cobb’s comfortable spare bed than the confines of the small sleeping compartment on the Razor Crest.
As a form of thank you, Cobb had offered to put Din and Amban up in his home until the Razor Crest was repaired. Din had been ready to turn him down until the child began to reach out for Cobb. It’d been decided right then.
Cobb prepared the spare room in his home for them, giving him privacy so he could take off his helmet and relax. He’d even told Din that the child could come to hang out with him in a different room if he was insistent on no other life forms seeing his face.
Din hadn’t expected Cobb to be so readily accommodating. It’s a nice change from having to accommodate everyone else.
He closes the pod again and stands, walking over to the stained mirror propped up in the corner of the bedroom, looking at himself. He barely looked at his reflection the few times he took the helmet off, so he was always a stranger to himself, both internally and physically. Sometimes, it’s almost like he doesn’t recognise himself, and doesn’t know who he is beyond the ways of Mandalore.
Get up.
Piece by piece, Din gets his armour onto his body, finishing with fitting the helmet over his head. The beskar shines with the faint stream of light that comes in through the pinprick holes in the curtain and for a moment, Din doesn’t feel the pride that he always feels with the armour. For one moment, he was tired of having to hide behind beskar. A part of him longed for a life of peace, like when he’d been on Sorgan. Of course, it’s only wishful thinking to leave behind his current life of weaponry and hunting. Not even Amban could stand a chance at a life like that, not anymore.
He pushes it away. There is only pride now. This is the way.
He leaves Amban in his pod in the room to continue sleeping. The child knew well enough to just climb out and look for him upon awakening, he didn’t have to sit around and wait.
Outside, Cobb is already up and about, making breakfast. He’s dressed in a blue shirt, his red scarf hanging loose around his neck, along with brown pants and boots. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he hums a nameless tune to himself, moving around the small kitchen area. He hears the heavy sound of beskar and turns, offering Din a friendly smile. “Mornin’, Mando. The kid still asleep?”
“Yes,” Din answers, walking closer to see what Cobb is making -- Bantha steak soup.
Cobb explains as a way of making conversation, “I’ve had this simmering for two days now. Figured since it serves two, might as well share with you and Amban, right?”
Din stands by the table, using one hand to push his cape out of his way just to have something to do with his hands, and watches Cobb retrieve three bowls from a drawer. He says, “You don’t have to share it. I can find something else for the child.”
“Nonsense. You helped kill the krayt dragon. What’s a bowl of steak soup?” Cobb replies, splitting the soup between the three bowls. He sets one down in front of Din and the other, himself, leaving the third one aside for when Amban comes out. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good,” Din answers. “Thank you.”
“You’re a man of few words when you aren’t talking about a fight,” Cobb says light-heartedly, bringing a spoonful of soup to his lips. "Won't hurt to talk a bit more. Ya got a good voice." He drinks it and Din’s fingers graze his own spoon, hesitant. Cobb notices the movement, however imperceptible, and says, “You can bring that into your room. I’m not one to get all ‘you can’t eat in the bedrooms!’, you know. I’ll bring the kid out here, watch him 'til you're done.”
Din takes the bowl to his room, and Cobb brings Amban’s pod out.
He felt a little bad for being so flat with Cobb despite his best attempts at being a hospitable host for him and the child. In the past two days of residing here, Cobb has respected Din’s boundaries, making sure he has the helmet on before entering the room, lending him some clean clothes so he doesn’t have to be in armour the whole time he’s there, even finding trinkets to give Amban to play with, keep him busy so Din doesn’t have to find ways to occupy the child's attention.
He’d simply never been in a position like this, where he didn’t have any fights to jump into. Mos Pelgo didn’t have much happening other than the now-deceased krayt dragon and the Tusken Raiders that have been negotiated with. It left Din with the mundane goings-on of a largely unknown town that few passed through and when he didn’t have that, he had the domestic life of Cobb’s home that felt too much like a home .
Needless to say, Din still doesn’t know what to do with his hands when he's alone with Cobb.
Alone, Din drinks Cobb’s steak soup -- it’s good and it’s warm, and Din finds himself with an empty bowl before long. He’s still hungry, though, so he’ll go find him and Amban more to eat later in the day.
The door creaks open and Din quickly pulls the helmet back on, looking down to see Amban waddling into the room, arms outstretched to him. Din sighs quietly, bending down to pick Amban up and cradle the small creature in his arms. Amban giggles cheerfully, his three little fingers running over the beskar of his helmet, and Cobb walks in with a grin.
“Tried to stop him, but I guess nothing stands in the way of this little womp rat,” Cobb says, leaning over to touch Amban’s cheek with affection. “I’m gonna go out, get some supplies. Do you want to come with, let the kid have some sun?”
oOo
Mos Pelgo, now living without fear of Tusken Raiders or krayt dragons, is lively despite its small size and population. The people still carried gratitude for his help so they were careful with Amban and considerate with Din.
Cobb Vanth is charming with the residents of Mos Pelgo just like he was before Din arrived, making friendly conversation with them as they passed by. He asks people about their family’s well-being, how their shops are doing. He does it all with a smile that Din has learned is genuine. For once, a mayor who actually wants to know about everyone’s day. Din is sure that not even Cara Dune is like this with the people of Nevarro. To her, the role may be an obligation but Din can tell the role comes to Cobb as an honour.
A part of Din's chest warms at the fact. What a change it is to meet someone with a true heart.
Amban coos and Din looks down, bouncing him gently in his arms. “What? Are you hungry?”
Cobb looks over, searching himself until he finds a dung worm. He lifts it up with a half-smile, asking, “Can he eat this?” Din doesn’t know, actually. He’s never seen the kid eat a dung worm before, but Amban snatches it from between Cobb’s fingers and swallows it whole with a giggle.
Cobb blinks once, then he laughs. “I suppose that answers it.”
Din can’t help but chuckle too, seeing Amban lean over to Cobb to try and locate more dung worms. Cobb only laughs harder when he hears Din do so, saying, “What does he usually eat?”
“He might eat you if he’s desperate enough,” Din jokes. Din doesn’t think he had the kind of voice where his grin could be heard through his tone, which disappointed him a bit when Cobb’s grin fell imperceptibly. The number of jokes he’d made that had gone over people’s heads just because they couldn’t see his face -- a small price to pay to uphold the ways of Mandalore, but sometimes Din craved for a more personal life.
Awkwardly, he says, “I was joking.”
“Yeah, I thought so,” Cobb says, his grin returning fully. “That helmet ain’t so good for the jokes, huh?”
“Not really,” Din says, adjusting his hold on Amban to hold him more comfortably. “A few years ago, I got stopped by border patrol because they thought I looked suspicious.”
“Looked suspicious--” Cobb cuts himself off, staring at Din’s “blank” stare through the helmet, and then laughs loudly, putting an arm around Din’s shoulder to pull him a bit closer. “Yeah, your face is so suspicious. Look at that expression.”
Din cannot stop himself from laughing too -- maybe it’s from his joke getting through, maybe it’s that Cobb’s laugh is actually quite contagious after he’s heard it enough times. They hadn’t known each other very long, a little over a week since the krayt dragon, but Cobb had grown on Din nonetheless.
He finds himself realising that he will miss hearing Cobb’s “good morning” when he wakes up.
“If you want, you can let the kid run around. The people will look after him,” Cobb suggests. “You can’t be watching him all the time.”
Instantly, worry grips Din and he says, “Where I go, the child goes.”
Cobb rolls his eyes, a faint smile on his face. “Yeah, I know, but you’re both in Mos Pelgo and it’s a small town. Ain’t many places the womp rat can hide where nobody can find him. He’ll be safe.”
Amban starts clamouring in his hands, definitely agreeing with Cobb that he wants to roam the town, so Din ultimately decides that Cobb might have made a point with the town being safe enough to let the child go free for a while. He sets Amban down on the ground, watching the small creature take quick, little steps away from them to a group of children near the school.
“Wanna grab a drink?” Cobb asks once Amban has lost himself among the kids. “It’ll ease your fatherly nerves.”
“I don’t have fatherly nerves,” Din insists, though he does follow Cobb to the cantina.
oOo
The Weequay serves them spotchka and it elicits a joke about deja vu from Cobb. “Buying you a drink like the first time we met.”
“Except I’ll drink it this time,” Din points out, sitting opposite Cobb at one of the tables. There aren’t many other people in the cantina so once Cobb pours him his glass, Din feels comfortable enough to raise the lower half of his helmet up just enough to drink without exposing his face.
Cobb watches him with interest, eyes following the glass as it reaches Din’s lips, and then back down as Din covers up his mouth with beskar again. “You really don’t take it off ever?”
“No.”
“Not for anything?” Cobb asks, now leaning on his elbows with curiosity. He pauses for a moment before wincing as he asks, “You don’t sleep with the helmet on, do you? That’s gotta be a pain.”
“I take it off when I’m alone, that’s it. I’m not allowed to take it off in front of another living being,” Din explains. He’d become used to people’s utter confusion and fascination at Mandalorian culture, the questions had lost any sense of intrusiveness. If he was honest with himself, Din isn’t quite sure why he wasn’t allowed to show his face either. Logically, it wouldn’t change anything, except now people can tell if he was happy, and he’d have lost the barrier that stopped him from being personal. “This is the way.”
Yet, Din had been so used to wearing the helmet around everyone else that he’s sure it will feel wrong all the same.
“What if you were dying?” Cobb questions. “And taking off the helmet was the only way to save your life?”
The memory of IG-11 removing his helmet with respect in order to save his life intrudes on him, and Din answers, “I’ll only allow a droid to do it.”
Cobb nods, clearly trying to understand Mandalorian culture. Din appreciated the effort -- he knew some parts of it didn’t make sense to people, and at least Cobb didn’t mock the faith Din had in “the way”.
“Good to know,” Cobb says. “And if there aren’t any droids around?”
Din raises his helmet again to drink his spotchka, unable to come up with an answer. If there aren’t any droids around and he was in such critical condition that his helmet had to be removed, what then? Amban is still too young to know what to do once he gets the helmet off -- given that he can even use his powers to do so without passing out. Din could take it off himself, but if he was immobilised, that’d put a stint in that.
Cobb realises that he’s not going to get an answer anytime soon and shrugs, drinking from his own glass. “So I guess you’d die by the creed. Alright, Mando. I can respect that.”
No, it’s not that I’m choosing a helmet over my life, Din wants to say, because the real problem ran deeper than that but Din didn’t know where to begin. Does he start from how he has lived by that creed for so long that he barely knows who he is without it? Does he start from how desperately he wished the rules weren’t so strict? Does he explain what happened with IG-11?
Din doesn’t get a chance to pick, because the doors of the cantina are kicked off their hinges as stormtroopers storm in, guns raised. Cobb stiffens, less capable of helping in a fight now that he no longer possesses the Mandalorian armour he formerly owned, and Din’s fingers reach for the gun on his holster.
“Dank farrik,” Cobb mutters under his breath. As the stormtroopers busy themselves with the Weequay, Cobb turns to Din and says, “You get Amban. I’ll keep them busy. Go.”
Cobb doesn’t have anything but a blaster on him. He has no armour and there are five stormtroopers which left the marshal severely outnumbered if Din leaves to retrieve Amban. Din gapes, “What?”
“Go, you’ve got bigger burra fish to fry,” Cobb says again. “If they get their hands on the kid, this will be the least of our problems.”
“You’re outgunned and outnumbered,” Din points out, though he’s standing as his worry for Amban is already beginning to win out over loyalty to the man who has housed him for the past days. “Those bucketheads don’t care about odds.”
“Good that I like them, then,” Cobb says, pushing Din towards the door as the stormtroopers begin to circle back to them, the other patrons in the cantina chased out. “Go, Mando. Kid needs you to watch him.”
Din sneaks out of the cantina, running straight for the school. There’s no time to bring Amban to Peli Motto no matter how much he trusted her above the citizens of Mos Pelgo. He just needs to get Amban in with one of the townspeople and then he can come back and assist Cobb. Maybe Jo will be willing to watch him for a while.
He freezes behind a wall when he nears the school -- a stormtrooper holds Amban by his clothes, laughing at how small he is. He tries to find the best angle of attack from where he is. He could use his missiles, but with the number of civilians in the area, Din didn’t want to risk one of them hitting the wrong target, especially if one of the stormtroopers was holding the child.
One of the troopers asks a civilian for the mayor and once Cobb’s name is given up, the stormtroopers in the cantina shove him out. He’s grumbling something at a trooper and is greeted with the butt of a rifle to his gut.
Din’s grip on his blaster tightens.
“Where’s the Mandalorian?” a trooper questions, the one holding Amban standing next to him. “He couldn’t have dumped the child here on his own.”
“Look, I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine,” Cobb lies. “Dropped the kid off, said he had to fix his ship or something. He left hours ago.” The stormtrooper at his side doesn’t buy the answer and whacks Cobb across his back with a baton. Cobb grunts at the impact, obviously feeling the full force of it without his Mandalorian armour. At that moment, Din actually regretted reclaiming it. The civilians watching wince at the sight, and Din can hear the quiet frightened whines of Amban.
Just tell them I’m here, Din thinks, still trying to come up with the best plan for the situation. He counted fifteen stormtroopers in the area, all dispersed among civilians, some of which had a tight grip on the regular folk. Missiles were out -- the people were too close. If the stormtroopers saw the missiles coming, they could be used as shields.
He could use his blaster from a hidden spot, use his sharpshooter skills and take them out one by one. Of course, the plan gets dashed instantly when he reminds himself that every stormtrooper there has a blaster and there’s at least five around Amban and Cobb each. They’ll both be dead before Din can get five down.
Give himself up in exchange for Cobb, ensure the safety of him, the people and the child, then fight his way out. Seems like the best option at the moment.
Din steps out of the shadows and Cobb’s snarky expression falls flat. Din says, “Let the marshal and the child go. I won’t ask twice.”
“How about we let the marshal go and you come with us?” the chief asks. “There is a high price going for you and the child.”
“Fine.” As long as Cobb is safe. Din can handle taking care of the child, he always has. Din raises his hands to the sides of his head and the stormtrooper with Cobb uses his baton to shove the marshal forward and away. As they pass by each other, Cobb mumbles, “I would have figured something out.”
“Go,” Din simply says, standing with the stormtroopers as Jo runs over to Cobb’s side.
Cobb reluctantly watches Din go.
oOo
As much as Cobb probably won’t admit it out loud, he’d come to get used to the presence of the Mandalorian and his child despite how they’ve only known each other a bit over a week. After spending so much time together plotting against the krayt dragon, Cobb had grown to respect Mando, and that respect had, at some point, turned into a liking. Mando didn’t speak where it wasn’t necessary and Amban was too young to do so which made them a quiet pair, yet Cobb didn’t feel the silence of his home with them around.
Letting the Imperial raid stormtroopers take Mando and Amban back to their ship along with some of their livestock was painful. He’d always been loyal to his friends, and Cobb felt that he’d let them down, especially after the big favour Mando had done for his town with the dragon.
Cobb then realised that if Mando was with the stormtroopers, then that would mean the Razor Crest would be right where he left it -- in Mos Eisley with one Peli Motto. If he went there, he could claim the Mandalorian armour and bust them out. Though, he knew Mando could take care of himself. Fact is, his credits were on Mando killing them all and returning before the suns go down.
Still, Mando was still his friend. Cobb didn’t leave his friends behind, especially not friends who told him to go before getting devoured by a krayt dragon.
Peli had been suspicious at first until Cobb told her about the child and how he had been captured too, in which she quickly got the droids to hand him the Mandalorian armour. “Take one of the better speeder bikes,” she had offered. "You'll get back faster."
As he took the bike back to where he had seen the Imperial ship, Cobb had no idea what tricks Mando had up his sleeve but he hoped that he and the kid would be safe regardless. No matter how capable he knew Mando to be, that’s still a lot of bucketheads.
Just because Mando is some practised assassin doesn’t mean he couldn’t use another pair of hands.
And dank farrik, maybe Cobb likes the guy enough to run straight into an Imperial ship for him and his kid. Nobody had to know.
oOo
They have Amban stored in a different cell from his, with enough locks that Din will require the control panel to get through. He hadn’t expected less -- the child has always been a high-priority target, the price on his young head only rising with every second passing. Din knew he was only there because he had kept the powerful child as his ward. Once they realise that Din himself had no mystical powers like Amban, he’ll be of no use or interest to them. He doubted that they would attempt to use him to threaten Amban into using his powers for their purposes -- Amban likely wouldn’t know what was being demanded of him.
He stares at the binders around his wrists; they’re easy enough to get out of. Getting out of his cell is the real challenge. When the stormtroopers come to check if he is still there, there will likely be two. They’re not known to be intelligent, and two to one are fantastic odds, so Din will let them take each other out, he simply has to move correctly.
Sure enough, after patiently waiting, three stormtroopers appear, one of them saying, “The Moff wants to see you.”
Gideon, Din quickly realises. Dank farrik.
Din follows them out of his cell and down the halls. There’s obviously more stormtroopers on the ship than there were in Mos Pelgo which puts a stint in his plan. He knew that regardless of how incompetent the stormtroopers were known to be, there’s still too many of them and only one of him and one of the kid.
He tries to read body language, overhear any passing conversation, try to figure out where Amban is exactly. It would save a lot of time if he didn’t have to go door-to-door to locate him. However, he hears nothing, and is shoved into a room with Moff Gideon.
The doors slide shut behind him and Din realises that Gideon has a darksaber on him.
oOo
Thank the stars that stormtroopers are nothing but bantha fodder.
Because they’re busy dealing with what sounds like an uncooperative Amban, Cobb had been able to carefully sneak past the troopers and into the ship. He’d only heard people talking about the kid and not one word about Mando. He’s beginning to get concerned about what has happened to the Mandalorian.
He’d also heard a trooper talking about some Moff Gideon. He had no idea who that’s supposed to be but it can’t be anything good. Maybe Mando was with him -- Cobb trusted that Mando could handle himself, so he busies himself with locating Amban. He’s sure that Mando would be furious if he looked for him before the kid anyway.
Cobb makes his way through the hallways, quietly taking out single stormtroopers that he passed as he peeks through windows to see if Amban is in there or not.
After close to ten doors, Cobb finally sees him; a huddled Amban with tiny binders around his wrists. He looked over at the control panel -- the room required an admin code to unlock the door that Cobb sure as hell didn’t know.
He steps into the other hallway and sees a trooper coming. He ducks behind the wall, waiting for it to come closer. Once it’s within his reach, Cobb slams him against the wall twice, knocking him down to the floor and snatching his blaster. He shoots the trooper dead and then runs off to kill the control panel, knowing that he will soon be caught.
Amban babbles quietly, being woken up by the action, and Cobb manages a half-smile down at the child. “Hey, kid. I’m gonna find your old man, okay?”
Amban’s tiny fingers cling onto the edge of Cobb’s chestplate as he makes a sharp right into a different hallway, now being chased by a few stormtroopers. He turns back to shoot them -- two go down. He needs to find Mando and get the hell out of there.
Blasting from the other end of the ship stops Cobb short and he turns, running in the direction of the sound. He blasts stormtroopers as he goes by, having to forfeit some fights and just run with the kid close to his chest.
He does reach the source of the fight, where Mando’s cape has been torn, left lying on the ground. Cobb hopes the cape isn’t a foreshadow for what he’ll find and he goes further, blaster ready.
Mando and who, from the uniform, Cobb assumes is the Moff, are engaged in battle, Mando challenging Gideon’s black sword with his own martial prowess. Cobb puts the kid down, praying that he will stay out of trouble in his corner, and fires at Gideon. Gideon manages to dodge in time, using his sword to deflect Cobb’s next blast.
Mando looks over at him and Cobb swears he can feel the tension through the helmet. “Get the hell out of here.”
“Not leaving you behind, Mando,” Cobb says, slipping the gun into his holster to use his fists instead.
oOo
“You know, you are a difficult man to follow,” Gideon says, igniting the darksaber.
“Maybe I don’t want to be followed,” Din replies stiffly. “What do you want with the child?”
Gideon paces the room and Din’s hand instinctively inches towards his gun holster. When Gideon speaks, it’s with the same gravity he always spoke in. “It’s not your business...” He looks back at Din, raising the darksaber. “... because you’ll be dead soon enough.”
Din grabs his blaster and fires at Gideon but he simply deflects it with the darksaber. Gideon grins, swinging the sword at him, and Din defends himself with his beskar armour, stumbling back from the impact of the blows.
He shoots fire at Gideon and it’s his turn to take a few steps backward. Now that Gideon is disoriented by the flames, Din launches his whipcord at Gideon and it wraps around his body. He raises his blaster at Gideon’s head and blasts again, but Gideon deflects the laser and then cuts himself free of the cord.
The doors open and four stormtroopers start firing at Din. He curses under his breath, lunging forward to grab one of them and slam him into another. As the two try to get their bearings, he shoots the other two and Gideon strikes him with the darksaber from behind, making Din stumble forward.
One of the two stormtroopers slams the back of Din’s helmet with their rifle and he blinks hard at the sensation of hard beskar hitting his skull. He braces himself on the wall and shoots the two stormtroopers.
“Give it up, Djarin,” Gideon says, slashing at Din once again. It hits his armour and he winces -- however strong beskar steel is, it can only do so much for transferred impact, and the blow to his head is giving him some serious impairment. “Though, I do admire your tenacity.”
Din holds up a gauntlet fast enough to block another hit from the darksaber and he uses the flamethrower once again. It catches fire on Gideon’s cape and he rips it off, grabbing a handful of Din’s own cape to restrict his movement. He slams Din against the wall and tears off his cape, throwing it aside carelessly.
Din rolls onto his back to face Gideon and blasts at him. One of the lasers nicks his face and Gideon grits his teeth with irritation, using the darksaber to try and break through Din’s helmet. Din struggles, but he moves out of the way and uses the cord to wrap around Gideon’s ankles, dragging him to the floor.
Din gets up, coming to his bearings, and lifts Gideon up by his collar, striking him hard across the face. More stormtroopers arrive and he blasts them, frowning in confusion when some drop before his finger has pressed down on the trigger. He returns his attention to Gideon, hitting him once more before Gideon tries to stab him with the darksaber. He misses, only managing to hit the beskar, and then someone else shoots at Gideon.
Din’s gaze snaps sharply towards the new arrival and he feels both relieved yet concerned at the same time. “Get the hell out of here.”
Cobb declines, putting his blaster into his holster and raising his fists. “Not leaving you behind, Mando.”
“You have friends? I’m impressed,” Gideon says mockingly, slashing Cobb’s chestplate with the darksaber. Protectiveness wins out and Din lunges at Gideon, punching him and then headbutting him with hard beskar. It disorientates Gideon for a moment and Din uses that opportunity to escape.
“Come on, go,” Din says, bending down to pick up Amban as he and Cobb start trying to find a way off the ship. As they go down different hallways to locate the exit among the mass of stormtroopers, alive and dead, Din says, “You didn’t have to come. I would have managed on my own.”
“Eh, I didn’t have anything better to do anyway,” Cobb jokes, blasting a trooper behind Din and another coming from the left hallway. “I’ve always got you, Mando.”
A mass of stormtroopers suddenly come their way and Din gestures for them to go a different route, where they’re met by an enraged Gideon. The two of them get cornered into a room by the troopers and Gideon, and once they’re deep enough in the room, Gideon hurls a small object in with them and shuts the door.
Cobb squints at it. “What the hell is--”
“Dank farrik!” Din shouts, shoving Amban into Cobb’s arms and then pushing him away, falling on top of the grenade. In a room this small, the explosion will kill them all, but Din hoped that the beskar would not only contain the impact but save them all. Or, at least, save Cobb and Amban.
“Mando, get up!”
The grenade goes off.
oOo
Cobb grits his teeth as Gideon and the stormtroopers corner him and Mando into a small room. He’d never been in a fight of the scale he’s been fighting in all day. It’s obviously more in Mando’s area of expertise, but even he could do nothing with the firepower and numbers.
Now in the room with nowhere to turn, Gideon throws a small item in with them and then seals the door. Cobb squints at it, trying to get a better look at it. “What the hell is--”
“Dank farrik!” Mando yells with frustration, recognising the object first, and suddenly Amban is in his arms as Mando shoves him further away from him, diving onto it.
Cobb realises then what the thing is -- an explosive -- and no, no, no, Mando will die that close to the impact, and he shouts, “Mando, get up!” The grenade explodes and Cobb ducks into the corner of the room, huddling as much of himself around Amban as he can to protect him.
There is a ringing in his ears as the explosion wears off. Cobb looks down in his arms to check on the kid -- he’s alarmed, whining loudly as his hands clamour for Cobb’s. Cobb puts Amban down, running a hand over his head to try and calm him down. His other hand fans the smoke away and he narrows his eyes to see Mando.
“Mando!” he calls out. When he’s met with no response, he looks back at Amban. Amban is still making painful noises; the noise must hurt with ears that big. Cobb says seriously, “Stay right here.”
He crouches, moving to the centre of the room where Mando is. “Mando, get up.” He hears a soft groan and gently flips Mando over so he’s now on his back. He’s relieved to see the faint rise and fall of Mando’s chest, though he winces hard at the sight of the damaged beskar. Yet, the more painful detail is when he realises that there is blood leaking from under the helmet.
“Mando!” Cobb says, shaking him slightly. When he only hears a sharp breath in return, his hands come up to the sides of Mando’s helmet and he warns, “I’m going to take your helmet off.”
“Don’t,” Mando mumbles, his voice strained.
Cobb stares at him, bewildered. “If I don’t, you’ll die, you idiot. The kid still needs you.” He adds after a second of hesitation. “I need you.”
Mando is quiet for a moment before he exhales shakily, nodding almost imperceptibly.
Cobb breathes out a ‘thank the stars’ and carefully raises the helmet off of Mando’s head to see the full extent of his injuries. His head wound has matted the front of his dark brown hair and the crimson paints a dark trail over the left half of his tan face. There is a fragility and an edge of fear in Mando’s eyes when they meet Cobb’s.
“How bad is it?” Mando asks weakly.
Cobb swallows. “You’re gonna be fine.”
Mando barely chuckles. “That bad.”
Cobb takes off his armour and then his shirt, using his shirt to press against Mando’s head wound. “I’ll get you and the kid out of here, alright? You just gotta trust me. Hold that there.” Mando obeys, pressing Cobb’s shirt to his bleeding head as Cobb gets his chest plate back on.
Cobb asks, “Can you get up?”
Mando nods, allowing Cobb to heave him up onto his feet. Cobb reaches out with one hand to Amban, his other arm wrapped tightly around Mando’s waist to keep him stable. He picks up Amban in his spare arm, using the heel of his boot to kick at the panel. The destroyed panel unseals the door and Cobb looks around, making sure the coast is clear before he starts moving.
He forces himself to recall how he made his way around, working backwards to form a map in his mind that will lead them to their exit. He moves quietly, careful to avoid any stormtroopers or Gideon himself. With Mando definitely out for the count and Cobb semi-hurt from the explosion plus a child in tow, they stood no chance. Stealth was their only way to get out of the ship.
He’s almost at the door when a stormtrooper finds them but before it can say or do anything, Amban reaches a hand towards it and the trooper drops its blaster. Cobb watches, fascinated, as the trooper begins to choke, hands grabbing at his throat as he tries to drag in harsh breaths. Once he falls to his knees, Cobb tightens his hold on Mando and moves faster, getting them all out of the ship before someone notices that they’re gone.
oOo
When he puts Mando down on a chair once they reach his home, Cobb rushes around the house to dig up medical supplies. Amban sits by Mando’s side, cooing worriedly.
Cobb returns with a roll of bandage and Mando lowers the soaked shirt from his head. Cobb carefully parts Mando’s hair to see where the wound was the most serious so he knows how to properly wrap it up. He presses his lips together when he really sees the injury but doesn’t say anything, wetting a cloth and wiping the blood out of Mando’s hair and face. He’s careful nearer to the wound, going as gentle as he can while making sure there’s no leftover blood on his skin.
Mando is still, letting Cobb work. He’s still in his armour and it’s uncomfortable without an undershirt, but making sure Mando’s head stops bleeding is the bigger priority.
“Why in the world would you jump on a damn grenade?” Cobb mutters, bringing the cloth across Mando’s cheek to get the blood off.
“You and the kid,” Mando answers quietly. “I can’t let either of you die.”
Cobb stares at him and rolls his eyes, cleaning the blood off of Mando’s neck. “Selfless bastard.”
Mando stares at Cobb, and it’s only processing now that this is Mando’s face, this is who Cobb has been talking to the whole time. Mando stares, and then, quietly, says, “My name is Din Djarin.”
Cobb looks at him in surprise, but he echoes the name softly, “Din Djarin.” The silence lasts a bit too long and Cobb clears his throat, joking, “And here, I was starting to think your real name was Mando.”
“Maybe it should be,” Din says, the corner of his lips rising in a half-smile, and Cobb laughs.
Once the blood is off of Din’s face, Cobb places a hand at the back of Din’s neck and gently pulls him closer, pressing their foreheads together with a wide grin. “You did real good out there, Din.” He pulls away to get the bandage but when he looks back at Din, his expression is frozen as he stares at Cobb.
oOo
There is something about the way Cobb is so gentle with his hands when he is cleaning him up.
Maybe Din hasn’t felt someone else’s touch on his skin in way too long, but this feels right. He didn’t think it’d feel like this when he took off the helmet -- he thought it’d be a guilt-ridden action that will keep haunting him, but it hadn’t haunted him after IG-11, and it probably won’t haunt him after Cobb. It was either the helmet or his life, after all.
Cobb calls him a selfish bastard for choosing him and Amban over himself, and then the words just fall out of Din’s mouth without another thought, “My name is Din Djarin.”
Cobb seems surprised at the admission and he absently repeats the name to himself, as if committing it to memory, before his face eases up into one that’s light-hearted. “And here, I was starting to think your real name was Mando.”
Din jokes, “Maybe it should be.”
Cobb bursts out laughing.
Finally, a joke gets through.
“You did real good out there, Din.” Cobb puts a hand at the back of Din’s neck and his fingers graze over the short hairs there as he pulls Din close, touching his forehead to his own, and Din’s brain short circuits. It’s normally done between two helmeted Mandalorians, but the action is still the same, and Din’s mind is racing the longer their foreheads are together, because did Cobb just Keldabe kiss me?
Cobb pulls away to retrieve the bandages and Din is at a loss for words, searching for something to say to fill the quiet, but when Cobb’s eyes meet his again, Din finds himself silent.
Confused with the sudden speechlessness, Cobb smiles crookedly, asking, "The explosion still hitting you?"
“No, you…” Din trails off. Does Cobb even know what a Keldabe kiss is? If he doesn’t, should I explain? And if he does, what am I supposed to make of it? Maybe this doesn’t actually qualify as a Keldabe kiss at all, and I’m grabbing for conclusions far out of my reach. But then, would that mean that I did wish that Cobb would kiss me?
Cobb raises an eyebrow, standing to get a better angle to wrap up the injury on his head. “I what?”
“Never mind,” Din concedes.
“You Mandalorian folk all this strange?” Cobb asks jokingly, but Din doesn’t give him an answer.
oOo
Din has been acting out of the ordinary since Cobb wrapped his head up.
Now that Cobb has seen his face and he has those bandages around his head, Din has decided to simply forgo wearing the helmet in his home. Seeing Din’s face instead of the helmet is a pleasant change that Cobb welcomed, so that in itself, he had no complaint. What he was baffled by, however, was that Din keeps looking at him funny whenever he does something nice for him like bring him some soup or change his bandages for him.
Amban is no help, either. The kid gets excited whenever Cobb and Din are in the same room, constantly cooing loudly. One time, he had been sat between them, and he pulled their hands together until their fingers grazed.
Din pulled his hand back quickly and told Amban that it’s rude.
Din also keeps asking anyone visiting Mos Eisley to check with Peli Motto if his ship is ready yet. Each time, the answer is no. At one point, Cobb jokingly asked if Din was that desperate to go their separate ways.
“No,” Din had said. “I’m just checking.”
It’s all very confusing, and while Cobb had tried to trace his memory back to when this began, it only leads him to when he told Din he did good. Surely, Din wouldn’t be this disturbed by a casual show of affection? The possibility made something ache in Cobb’s chest despite himself.
He’d come to be quite fond of the Mandalorian and the child in very different ways. He cared for Amban like his own.
Din almost died twice for Cobb in the past two weeks. Cobb cared for Din in more ways than he had words for.
When he’s sure both of them are asleep, Cobb sits in the main room with some spotchka he’d bought from the cantina a while back. Maybe he should get this over with and apologise for invading his personal space. Maybe that was all it is, that Din had gotten used to isolation with the helmet that he’d gotten a shock with the real human contact. Maybe it was a disrespectful gesture in Mandalorian culture. He should have read up on it before offering to put him up for a while.
He takes a drink, and then he hears Din’s voice say, “Get up.”
Cobb looks up from his place on the kitchen floor to see Din, dressed in one of the shirts Cobb loaned him -- the dark red one that Cobb had been wearing when he first met Din in the cantina. “Hey, Din. Want some?”
“It’s 3 in the morning.”
“Want some?”
Din shakes his head, carefully sitting down in front of Cobb. They sit leaning on opposite walls, their bare toes barely touching. His hair is messy where the bandage isn’t holding it down and he has on a weary smile.
Cobb asks, “Why are you up?”
“I was thinking about some things,” Din answers. “Like the other day.”
“Which day?”
“The most eventful one.”
“Ah,” Cobb says, trying to play it off as nothing. “Well, what about it?”
“I apologise for behaving the way I have been since that,” Din starts. “To explain myself, when you touched foreheads with me… It was a gesture from Mandalorian culture.”
Cobb winces. “Dank farrik, I knew it. It was offensive, wasn’t it? I’m sorry --”
“You kissed me, actually,” Din says quietly, and Cobb falls silent.
“Oh,” Cobb breathes, putting the bottle of spotchka down on the floor next to him. “Well, I’m sorry, still. I didn’t know.”
“It’s alright. I thought you weren’t aware of it,” Din assures, and their legs are touching now. “I suppose what I was thinking about was if… if you would do it again.”
Cobb’s chest tightens. “The forehead kiss thing?”
Din averts his eyes, probably embarrassed -- the terrifying Mandalorian is embarrassed -- and quietly clarifies, “A real one.”
Yes. All I want to do is kiss you, Cobb wants to say, but what comes out of his mouth is just, “Get up.” Both of them stand, and Cobb’s hand cradles Din’s jaw gently. “This okay?”
“Yes.” Din’s eyes fall to his lips. “Go.”
Cobb closes the space between their mouths, and they kiss like real people do.