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The prank had been simple.
Boba would make it seem like an old enemy was finally calling in his number. He’d let the ruse play out. He’d cash in on Din’s inevitable intervention on his behalf. Then, there’d be a literal explosion of color all over Din’s spotless, unvarnished armor. Ka-boom! In the end, Boba would get to admire the colorful results of Din’s spectacular and unwanted beskar paint-job.
It went off without a hitch.
Hilarity had ensued.
Now, however, Boba wasn’t basking in the satisfaction he’d anticipated. Instead, he was feeling…off-kilter. An unfamiliar sensation of guilt itched along his scarred scalp.
Even with his helmet on, Din was somehow looking at him with the saddest, most offended porg-about-to-be-dinner face. And instead of gloating, Boba was already thinking about how he could remedy the situation. How he could make it up to Din. It had all seemed so clear a few days ago when he’d come up with the scheme…
“That’s cold,” Fennec observed critically. She was perched on the edge of the table, eyeing Boba’s work.
“How so?” Boba asked, prying open the inner circuitry of the thermal detonator. He probably should listen more closely to her. After all, if she thought something was too mean, it was probably beyond the pale. But he was busy staring at the wires in his hands. Hmm. Was he supposed to cut the blue wire first, or the red to deactivate the triggering mechanism?
“You’re playing on his hero complex. His protectiveness over you.”
“It’s just a prank.”
“A prank involving the threat of death,” Fennec said.
Boba pointed the spanner at her. “All the best pranks involve a threat of death.”
“Why don’t you just wait ‘til Grogu visits again. Give Mando that special blend of tea that relaxes the drinker into a pleasant coma, then let the kid go blurrg-wild decorating his tin-can exterior with a handful of paints or stickers?”
“That’s a good one.” Boba clipped the blue wire and held his breath. When nothing bad happened, he grinned and yanked out two more wires with violent glee. “But this is better.”
“Because of the threat of death,” Fennec supplied dryly.
“Exactly.” Boba checked to make sure the yellow electrical wire remained active, so that the detonator would blink ominously, even though its inner destructive power had been removed. It was ready for the finishing touch. “Did you get the stuff I asked for?”
Fennec sighed and handed over a brown envelope. Boba ripped it open with his teeth and peered inside.
The garishness was nearly blinding.
Perfect.
“And this stuff has the adhesiveness as advertised?”
“That’s what it says. I’d be happy to dump it over your head to be sure.”
“Ha! There’s no need for that.” Boba poured the loose, rainbow-pigmented glitter into the detonator chamber. The explosion would be…colorful. And sticky. Boba had seen some truly horrendous Mandalorian paint-jobs in his time, but none quite this tacky and hideous.
He chuckled to himself as he put the thermal detonator back together. He’d have it delivered to himself at an opportune moment.
Boba surveyed the spa’s packed dining hall. Din was sitting two tables away, talking to Fennec and some Wookiee vendor whose name Boba had forgotten. Beings of all sorts milled about, picking over the buffet’s increasingly varied offerings and mostly keeping to themselves. They didn’t have the chattiest clientele at the spa, Calrissian aside. Thankfully. But the present audience was large enough for Boba to put his plan into motion.
He also had a cam droid programmed to record a holo. For posterity. And to show it to Grogu later, since he wasn’t here to see it firsthand.
Boba tapped his vambrace control to send for the spider droid he’d programmed to make the drop. The soup-ball-brain skittered into the dining hall, pushing the package along until it bounced against his boot. “What’s this?” Boba asked loudly, picking up the unmarked box.
Boba made sure Din’s helmet was aimed in his direction as he opened the box. His own green helmet was back in his rooms. He’d forgone his armor and worn only the vambraces.
"Oh no!” Boba exclaimed in attempted falsetto, one hand moving to cover his mouth as he feigned shock over the blinking, seemingly live thermal detonator he held in his hand. “It’s a thermal detonator! Someone’s trying to kill me! Everybody down!”
Din moved so fast that Boba’s fake shock transformed into real shock.
Din leapt over a table, jetpack careening him towards Boba. They tumbled to the ground. In the blink of a dianoga’s single eyeball, Din detached his jetpack and shoved it into Boba’s arms, activating it to spirit Boba across the floor to safety. Boba was deposited halfway across the hall before he glimpsed Din’s armored body curled protectively around the thermal detonator.
The thing ticked down in mere seconds and promptly…exploded.
BOOM!
The glitter-bomb devastated its target.
In a shower of sparkling, sticky confetti, Din became covered in a layer of shimmering glitter in every shade of the rainbow.
It looked like Din had taken a dip in a vat of holo tie-dye.
It was truly awe-inspiring to watch a now neon, multi-colored Mandalorian slowly sit up and stare down at himself, confused. He held out his hand, as if catching the first snowflake of winter and gawking at it.
Boba burst out laughing.
But his voice was not joined by a very large chorus. In fact, he was one of the only ones laughing. And that’s when Din’s helmet turned towards him, pinning him like a bounty target.
Boba was caught.
Din tried to wipe off his visor with his glove, but he had little success. He lunged towards Boba blindly.
Boba evaded him, crawling backwards on his hands like one of the spider droids. He found purchase on a chair and used it to climb to his feet, prepared to retreat for real if Din got any closer.
But Din had stopped and now was just looking at Boba. Somehow, his now clownishly-decorated helmet was dripping with disappointment. And instead of feeling proud of vengeance well-executed for the toe-polish debacle, Boba felt something else. His heart dropped in his throat. “Um, uh.”
“You…” Din started.
“Me…” Boba admitted.
“You…” Din said again.
“Me.”
Fennec coughed loudly from the side. When Din turned towards the sound, Boba beat a hasty retreat. He couldn’t apologize for a prank he’d just pulled! That would ruin it! …Okay, so, it was already ruined. He should really have listened to Fennec. Words to live by, truly.
Boba disappeared to his private quarters, head bent in something like shame.
Boba was surprised Din hadn’t immediately come after him. After all, Boba wasn’t hiding. He was just…holed up in his quarters. Waiting. Wallowing. Waffling. Wermo!
Boba stalked the halls of the palace-turned-spa until he found himself at Din’s door. It was always best to handle things head-on. And he didn’t like his own confused reaction to his expertly pulled prank. He had to sort this out. He rapped his knuckles on the door. “Din? You in there?”
A faint voice came from the other side. “Where else would I be?”
Boba’s head thudded against the door. “I don’t know. Trying to maim me for desecrating your armor and making a mockery of our friendship?” Boba slunk further down the door, resting his full weight against it.
The door abruptly opened.
He fell forward.
And was caught in strong arms.
Above him, Din huffed.
“Just let me fall on my face,” Boba said, eyes closed. “I deserve it.”
“Maybe so.”
Boba opened his eyes and met Din’s. Din was helmetless and in his flightsuit. The rare sight caught Boba off guard, even though it shouldn't have. Of course Din wasn’t in his armor. His armor was a mess. And it was all Boba’s doing.
But Din’s brows weren’t as angry-sloped as they could have been. And his brown eyes just looked…tired.
“Come on, up you go.”
Din helped Boba right himself and closed the door behind them. Din walked over to his pile of armor, which resembled any self-respecting holo-disco ball.
“I’ll have it cleaned,” Boba told him.
Now Din’s face clouded.
“Ah,” Boba amended, “I mean, I’ll clean it. Me. Myself. No droids. Just good old-fashioned soap and oil.” Every droid at the spa that valued its existence stayed far away from Din’s quarters. Boba was sure it was with good reason.
Din shrugged and picked up one of the armor plates. He began wiping it down with a towel. Boba realized it was the pauldron with Din’s mudhorn signet.
The blatant sentimentality on display made Boba sigh and squirm uncomfortably. “Okay, I screwed up. I thought this would be funny?”
Din’s continued silence was telling.
“Oh, come on,” Boba tried, picking up a different piece of armor and beginning to wipe it down with his own robe. Din glared at him when he spat on it and scrubbed. “See? It’s water-based. Washes right out.”
“Okay,” Din said simply.
Internally, Boba had as many wires crossed as his doctored detonator. “So, are you madder about the glitter or the fake bomb? Because I can’t get a read on you.”
“Really?” Din looked up at him, surprised. “Hm. Guess I’m making progress on masking my facial expressions then.”
Boba waved at him. “It’s more the whole glacial, non-response thing. But sure.”
“I’m not mad,” Din said eventually.
Boba didn’t buy it. He sucked in air through his teeth and tried to explain himself. “I’m…not used to having friends. I didn’t exactly grow up with a good model of healthy relationships with others.”
“You don’t say,” Din murmured.
Boba rolled his eyes and picked up another piece of Din’s armor to clean. “My father raised me to treat everyone as potential enemies, even allies and those whom I could have called brother. For a time, I had the Claw. I thought maybe that was going to be something, a crew to last, but…it outlived its usefulness.”
Din made a noise of agreement. “Outside the covert, I ran with some…unsavory types. We worked as a team, but we didn’t trust each other. Not really. And I paid the price for picking up that old thread again.”
Boba wondered at the story there: Who dared try to pull one over on Din and what had happened? Boba continued, “I want to do better. With you. With Fennec. I want to be a good friend. I didn’t mean to make light of the fact that you’d apparently throw yourself on top of a thermal detonator to save me.”
“I’d do it again.”
Boba’s head shot up. “You would?”
Din looked up from the armor he was scrubbing. “Wouldn't you do the same for me, had our situations been reversed?”
Boba’s mouth felt dry, but he nodded with absolute certainty.
Din looked satisfied as he bent back to his task. “I’m no expert at friendship either, but I think we’re doing alright.”
Boba cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Din warned, wagging a finger in Boba’s direction like he was scolding a misbehaving mastiff. “If you think this prank made us even, you’re going to find out how wrong you are.”
Boba grinned at him, all teeth. “Is that a threat? Should I be watching my back?”
“No, I’ll watch your back,” Din said, and Boba winced guiltily again. “But you should definitely watch everything else. Not that it will help you when I choose to strike.”
Boba groaned. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Din chuckled. “Maybe you should have thought about that before glitter-bombing me. Speaking of which, did I see the flash of a holocam through the confetti storm?”
“Good eye,” Boba said grudgingly. “Uh, I can have that wiped.”
“Wiping it doesn't mean handing it off to Fennec or Lando.”
“I got it. I got it. I’ll take care of it personally.” Boba paused. “I only took it so that I could show it to Grogu later.”
Din stopped cleaning his armor. “You’re trying to turn him into more of a menace than he already is?”
Boba raised his hands in defense. “I just want him to feel included in the goings-on here. I know he misses you terribly when he’s not here. Besides,” Boba added, “I can’t help it that your kid’s got a knack for mischief.”
“Oh,” Din said, but his tone had softened, lashes lowering as he seemed to think it over carefully. “Hm. Well, maybe I’ll let you show my temporary costume change to Grogu, and then I’ll supervise wiping the cam file,” he said.
“Don’t trust me?” Boba joked, before grumbling at again putting his foot in his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. I’m trying, Din. I really am.”
Din’s expression was fond. “Ka’ra help me, I do trust you, Boba.”
“I trust you, too,” Boba told him. He meant it.
“I know,” Din said. “Your prank wouldn’t have worked so well if you didn’t.”
Boba felt the tips of his ears reddening, and he focused deliberately on the armor in his hands. He should have stuck to his sauna and mud wraps and let sleeping dragons lie. The Krayt’s Spa was proving itself to be a den of greedy, bitey, rough-scaled predators. Even when they got along, they breathed fire.
“Did I ever tell you about the time that I cross-wired some of Fennec’s innards so that everything she drank oozed out of her stomach?”
Din gaped at him. “You really don’t know how to pick safe targets, do you?”
“Nope,” Boba denied, weirdly proud of the fact. Even his failures were notorious, like the Endurance and Jabba’s barge. “Never have.”
“Boba,” Din said, shaking his head. “I say this with the greatest respect: What the kriff is wrong with you?”
Boba laughed. “I don’t know. If you figure it out, by all means, clue me in.”
Din just shook his head again, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened noticeably and a small smile played at his lips.
Boba felt very, very lucky to have him and Fennec around. Not only would the spa never have taken off the ground, but he himself might have been knee-deep in bloody feuds again instead of spending his days browsing the holonet for the latest-scented fizzing bath bomb—an all around much better kind of bomb. He’d stick to them from now on. Less glitter. Less threat of death. More bubbles.
Two standard weeks later, two green ears lifted high into the air with interest, brown eyes wide, as Boba held Grogu on his lap and showed him the holovid of Din’s dramatic transformation from his usual shiny silver to gaudy, resplendent rainbow.
To complete the show, when the detonation went off on the holovid, Boba took out a handful of glitter from his pocket and threw it up in the air around the two of them. As the shimmering confetti showered over them, Grogu clapped his little green hands and cooed in delight. Boba couldn't contain his own pleased sound—more owed to Grogu’s worthwhile reaction than to the holovid itself.
Grogu excitedly began pointing between the holovid and Din, who was lurking behind Boba’s shoulder. Din let out a small sigh, but to Boba’s ears, it sounded like a sigh of acceptance and maybe even amusement.
“Now, Grogu,” Boba announced, pulling out a chalky white-and-cotton-candy-pink ball from his pocket, “Since, like me, you like colorful, fizzy explosions, I want to show you this special kind of soap for your next bubble bath…”