Work Text:
Cobb Vanth never thought he’d be a good father. Not with what had happened to him over his life, not with how desperate for freedom and change he constantly was.
But as he looks over at the little child with big green ears, then turns back to chopping fruit for the little guy, he knows he is.
He is.
In the way he never thought he could be. He takes the kid on outings, plays with him at home, protects him when needed. He keeps the little squirt fed, happy, content.
Cobb realized a week ago he’s giving him a good childhood, a happy one, and cried until he couldn’t breathe.
He’s so glad he can give him and the other kids in town something he never got.
For Cobb Vanth never got homecooked meals. Never had toys, never had time to be a kid. He never knew what it was like.
Cobb Vanth was a wiry little boy that could fit into narrow mine passages.
And just maybe playing with the little ones feels like it fills a void somewhere in him; maybe he gets a little emotional when getting really into playing pretend with the younger ones.
Sometimes, his knees don’t ache as much after playing tag, as he’s too lost in the joy of it.
Sometimes, when he catches the little ones during hide and seek in the same places as always, he feels a little less empty.
Din notices.
Din notices everything. The helm reminds Cobb of a sand owl’s face, ever so expressionless and full of emotion at the same time. He hasn’t seen the face under it yet, but he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.
He knows the man under it well enough to tell what he’s feeling without seeing his face, and that’s enough. They’ve both got baggage, traditions.
So he knows when that gentle but sad happiness radiates out from the man under it, watching Cobb chase the little ones all over main street.
He knows when that metal facade is hiding something like joy, watching Cobb give Grogu a bubble bath for the first time at the palace.
And maybe, Cobb feels a little warmth sometimes.
He knows he’s interested. He leaves his kid with Cobb when he goes on jobs, after all.
Cobb doesn’t know much about Mandalorians.
Din doesn’t care.
Din doesn’t know much about Cobb’s past.
Maybe someday.
But for now, Cobb doesn’t care.