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Din was seven years old when he felt the name of his soulmate bite into his skin. There was a moment of searing pain, like a knife writing over his wrist, and then it was gone as quick as it had started. He turned his hand over, and read the name inscribed there.
Lin Amon.
At first, Din was afraid. He only had the vaguest idea about what a soulmate was, knew that his parents were soulmates, but nothing more. He ran back to his home in tears to find his mother where she had been folding clean laundry. She was there with a warm embrace, almost like she had been waiting for this moment.
“It hurt!” Din cried.
“I know baby, but it’s all better now, see?”
She flipped his wrist over and inspected the name for herself.
“An interesting name,” she had whispered, almost reverently. “Not a name native to Aq Ventina.”
“Where are they from?” Din asked, his tears forgotten for a newfound curiosity. His mother just shook her head.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. They could be anywhere.”
“Anywhere?” Din had parroted back, eyes wide. “Even in the outer rim?”
“Anywhere!” His mother replied with a laugh.
Din cocked his head to the side, deep in thought.
“What’s going through your head, Din?” his mother asked, clearly amused.
“Did you know dad was your soulmate when you were my age?”
“Yes!” His mother chirped back happily. “I found him quickly too, shortly after I received the mark.”
“When will I find Lin?”
Din’s mother just smiled.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “It might take a while if they’re not planet side.”
Din peered at his mother, suddenly concerned.
“I’ll find them, right?” he whispered.
“You will!”
“What if they don’t like me?”
“They will! They’ll love you!”
Din scrunched his face up, looking unconvinced, but his mother persisted.
“Din, my love, have I ever once lied to you?”
The warmth in her smile was like the sun, and Din forgot his apprehension.
Surely, he would find his soulmate soon.
———————————————————————-
Years passed. Aq Ventina was invaded, and Din was taken in by the Mandalorians. His mother was gone, but her words remained.
Have I ever once lied to you?
So he hoped, and he prayed. He searched the covert, his ears always open for the name Lin Amon. He awaited the day his mother said would come with baited breath.
Then came the day when his mark turned red and angry and burned like fire. It started as an annoying itch during a sparring session, but quickly turned blazing hot, like the morning he received it in the first place. Panicked, he sought out the matriarch of his covert, desperate for answers.
“What brings you here, child?” she asked, half distracted with her work at the forge. When she glimpsed Din’s anxious expression out of the corner of her eye, she put down her tools and sighed.
“Come here,” she beckoned, and Din complied. “What troubles you so greatly that you make such a face?”
“It’s my mark,” he stammered out, and when the Armorer hummed in confusion, he thrust out his arm to her. “It’s turned red. What does it mean?”
The Armorer just tutted and returned to her work, the sounds of metal on metal grating deep within Din’s skull.
“We do not concern ourselves with such things here. You will not have time for mates, not even a fated one.”
Din continued to look at his wrist, seemingly lost, and the Armorer sighed once more.
“If it concerns you so, I will tell you this much: the lore surrounding fated pairs decrees that when the mark turns red, the person at the other end of the bond nears death.”
Din jumped, fear etched into his features.
“They’re dying?!”
The Armorer nodded.
“Yes. If your mark turns black, then they have already passed on from this world.”
“But…” Din stuttered, “I haven’t even met them!”
“Hush, child,” the Armorer replied between strikes of her hammer. “This is not your place in the Galaxy, to take part in such things. You are almost eleven now, Din, and soon you will swear the creed. You will need to be prepared to leave hypothetical attachments behind you in lieu of real ones, your duty to your covert and to your clan.”
Din cast his eyes downward, his rapid heartbeat slowing. The Armorer gave him one last look.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Armorer.”
“Good. Return to your studies now.”
Weeks passed. Din watched his wrist with fearful anticipation, dreading the inevitable. It burned like sparks from the Armorer’s forge, and even momentarily turned black around the edges.
However, the inevitable never came. The ache in his wrist slowly abated, and the skin returned to normal. His soul mate survived after all, against all odds.
It didn’t matter, though. When Din swore the creed shortly afterwards, donning his beskar’gam and swearing his allegiance to Manda, he was forced to make a pact with himself. He swore to lock Lin Amon to the furthest corners of his heart, along with other frivolities that would negatively impact his duty to his covert.
He would stop longing. He would stop searching.
He would forget.
———————————————————————
Years passed. Thirty-three, to be exact. Din was no longer a young man that was newly laden with a heavy burden and an even heavier heart. No, he was an adult now, and wearing the buy’ce was more natural to him than breathing.
His mark was always furthest from his mind, a slight physical and metaphorical itch from time to time, but nothing more. He never stopped to wonder where Lin Amon was, or if they were safe or happy. He never stopped to wonder if they ever regarded Din at all, or if they longed to see him. The only thoughts that plagued Din, at this point in his life, were bringing his young foundling back to his own people and staying true to his creed.
———————————————————————-
Then there came a turning point for Din, months later. The day he crossed the Dune Sea armed with nothing but his Amban rifle and a mission. When he stepped off of his speeder into a dusty, derelict town in the middle of nowhere, and glimpsed a man clad in old beskar.
The day he met Cobb Vanth.
Din found out quickly that Marshal Vanth was a charming man, as quick of wit as he was on the draw. He was handsome and strong, yet kind and soft, where his community was concerned.
He was dangerous.
There were red flags all over the man, scarlet as the scarf he adorned. He was deadly, yes, but his real threat lay in his smile and the way it made Din feel like breathing was difficult. He trusted the man deeply and quickly, and it frightened Din to his very core.
So when the marshal invited Din to come home with him after fighting the Krayt dragon, to rest and recuperate, the easiest option was a quick and firm no thank you. Din would be lying if he said he hadn’t immediately regretted it.
When Peli Motto asked him about it, he was tight lipped about the charismatic marshal and ready to move on with his mission and with his life.
If Din looked up to the heavens to wonder how Vanth was doing, weeks later, that was no one’s business but his own.
———————————————————————
Din did not see Vanth again until long after Grogu was gone. There was a heavy weight in his chest, perhaps even heavier than the day he believed his soul mate was dying. He was still rather despondent when he pulled into hangar 3-5 for ship repairs, mourning Grogu’s absence even more when Peli gave Din a piece of her mind for letting his foundling go so easily.
He flipped her some credits with the intention to sit quietly by while Peli worked, but she was quick to tell him to beat it and stop distracting her. So Din took to the streets of Mos Eisley in the search for something to eat.
There was a cantina just outside of the market district, far enough from the beaten path for him to eat his meal undisturbed while reputable enough to know that he wouldn’t become part of an all-out brawl. He paid for his food and sat in the booth furthest in the back, and just when he was satisfied that he could eat in peace, there was a presence quickly approaching from his periphery. He bristled, hand immediately going to the pistol at his side, but stopped dead when a handsome face appeared beside him.
“Mando! I thought that might be you!”
Vanth’s smile was just as warm as the day they’d said goodbye, and Din could suddenly remember the phantom buzz of the handshake they’d shared. Din swallowed thickly, still taken off-guard.
“Marshal,” he replied with a nod of his head. Vanth just tutted and rolled his eyes.
“Cobb will do just fine, if you please. You’ve done quite enough to earn my respect, and I’d prefer you use my first name from now on.”
Din could feel his face heating from within his helmet, and was momentarily too stunned to speak. So he just nodded again, feeling rather inelegant. Cobb didn’t seem to notice, and gestured to the table.
“This seat taken, partner? Or would you rather me let you be?”
Against his better judgment, Din motioned for Cobb to join him. Cobb smiled again, all charm and flashing white teeth, and took the seat opposite him.
That night was another turning point for Din. The two of them talked well into the early hours of the morning, Cobb even sitting backwards in his seat long enough for Din to remove his helmet to eat, completely unprompted. They talked about important things like the state of Mos Pelgo (Freetown now, it seemed,) and when Cobb had run out of his own relevant news to share, Din felt comfortable enough to regale the tale of Grogu’s departure. Cobb’s smile had fallen at that.
“I’m sorry to hear that, friend.”
When Din’s heart could no longer bear such talk, they moved on to lighter subjects, largely instigated by curious questions from Cobb.
“What’s it like when you’re out in space?”
“Have you ever heard of the Boonta Eve Classic?”
“What’s your drink of choice?”
At Din’s insistence of “I’m not picky,” Cobb left the table with a wink, returning moments later with two glasses filled with a deep amber liquid, one adorned with a straw.
“It’s not terribly potent, if you’re worried about that,” Cobb pointed out. “Figured you might want to leave this dustball as soon as your ship is repaired.”
The thing was, Din no longer wanted to leave quite so quickly. It was true that he had a steady bit of work lined up, and that none of his jobs would bring him back to Tatooine, but…
Something about Cobb Vanth was magnetic, like orbiting a particularly large sun. Din wanted to listen to him talk, wanted to learn his body language, wanted to figure out what made the man tick. So when an irate Peli finally commed him near dawn, he found himself being brazen in a way he almost never was.
“This is how you can reach me,” he said as he gave Cobb his comm information. “If you ever needed to get a hold of me.”
Cobb grinned.
“Is this thing equipped to make social calls as well?”
Din’s heart stuttered in his chest, like a womp rat caught in a trap.
“You can contact me for any reason.”
Cobb’s grin grew, and the two grasped hands perhaps a bit longer than was considered entirely platonic.
“Don’t be a stranger, ya’hear?”
As Din headed back towards hangar 3-5, it was with a light heart and a clear head.
He didn’t want to ever let Cobb go.
———————————————————————-
Cobb contacted Din multiple times over the months that followed, punctuated only by the fact that Freetown did not have the means to make calls. At first it didn’t register as anything special to Din, who figured that Cobb would just happen to fancy a chat on the occasions he was in Mos Eisley on business for Freetown, but it didn’t take long to realize otherwise.
“What business are you on this time, Cobb?”
There was a beat of confused silence on the other end of the call, Cobb’s blue holographic silhouette wide-eyed, before he began to laugh.
“No business, just wanted to chat.”
Din cocked his head to the side, feeling just as confused.
“You… made the trip to Mos Eisley… just to talk to me?”
“Of course!”
Din was stunned into silence, not believing he was worth so much time from the important and busy marshal.
“Oh…”
“You sound surprised, Mando.”
“I just… didn’t think you’d go that far out of the way for me.”
Cobb just grinned in that way Din was so fond of.
“Why wouldn’t I? I enjoy your company, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss seeing you around.”
Guilt began to take root in Din’s core, along with a strong determination.
“I suppose I’ll just have to come back around again then, huh?”
Cobb’s smile lit up his whole face, even through the sheen of the holograph, his eyes crinkling around the corners.
“I would like that.”
———————————————————————
Din visited Freetown much more routinely after that, anytime he could spare really. His schedule often went as so: work for a week, maybe two. Speak with Cobb once or twice in the interim. Then, once his bones ached and the exhaustion from bounty hunting took over, he traveled to Freetown to rest, both physically and mentally. Because really, Cobb was the best thing that had happened to Din’s psyche in months, maybe even years, save for Grogu.
At first his visits were just that: short little stays of a day or two where he and Cobb would drink and shoot the shit long into the evening and then wake with the suns to do it all over again. However, as time passed, that changed as well. His stays became days became weeks, and soon Din was staying with Cobb almost as much as he was working.
It was… nice. Domestic even. Because life with Cobb was easy, and they always fell back into step with each other each time they reunited. Easier than breathing. Easier than just existing.
All good things must come to an end though, and the peace that Din and Cobb had afforded so easily abruptly ended. Din was contacted by Fennec Shand on behalf of Boba Fett about unease out in the Dune Sea. A turf war between a spice syndicate and the people of Mos Espa, among who were under Fett’s protection. It was evident early on that reinforcements would be needed, and Din knew just the person to see.
“I don’t see what any of this has got to do with me,” Cobb expressed over drinks at the Freetown cantina, confusion playing around his eyebrows. Din explained the situation once, twice, three times, expecting this to be an easy pitch. However, Cobb was adamant that his people were done with fighting, and that he was not interested in what Din was selling. Defeated, Din left Freetown, feeling for the first time that he and Cobb had misread each other somehow.
Din forgot all about his less than successful conversation with Cobb while he fought alongside Fett and Shand. That is… until Cad Bane showed up…
You never should have left him without his armor.
Just like that, Din’s best friend, perhaps the only person who had earned that distinction in his life, was gone.
Life, it seemed, had a strange way of balancing out, because before the battle was won his dear Grogu was back in his arms. How awful it had felt, that he had needed to trade Cobb to get Grogu back.
He didn’t even have time to properly mourn until he was back on his ship with Grogu, and wasn’t that strange, to have traded one kin for another. Unfair. Once his adrenaline began to finally calm, Grogu asleep in the droid compartment, Din suddenly realized his wrist was burning, and for reasons unrelated to battle. He peeled the glove off his left hand and inspected his wrist. Lin Amon was scrawled in deep red letters for the second time in Din’s life.
Yet Din couldn’t find it in himself to care. What was the life of a metaphorical partner worth to him anyway? How could he care about someone he’d never met, who’d only ever existed on the fringes of Din’s awareness, when someone very real and very dear to him was now gone?
I love him , Din realized with a dread so deep it threatened to swallow him whole, pull him under and drown him until there was nothing left.
———————————————————————
Months passed. Din worked. He knew it was unhealthy to ignore these feelings of grief that bubbled just below the surface, but he also had another mouth to feed again, another tiny companion that needed to be taken care of. He’d be damned if he’d allowed himself to fail a second time.
It was late one night, Din dozing lightly at the controls of the Starfighter, when he received a call that would once again change his life.
He accepted the call without thinking, and the color drained from his face. He felt like he was seeing a ghost, and perhaps he was, because the visage of Cobb Vanth stared back at him.
“Hey, stranger,” Cobb rasped, raising his left arm in a tiny wave. Din noticed that his right arm seemed to hang heavily at his side, but for the most part he seemed well. Unharmed. Alive. When Din didn’t answer, still too shocked to speak, Cobb continued.
“Hadn’t heard from you for a while, partner. Was worried I’d scared you off after our last conversation. M’sorry about that…”
“You’re alive,” Din blurted out, eyes burning with unshed tears. Cobb jumped at the outburst, looking incredulously on.
“Yes? Last I checked,” Cobb replied, suddenly looking rather dazed himself. “Did you…?”
“You died,” Din stammered on, still not believing his eyes. “Cad Bane said he’d shot you.”
“That he damn well did!” Cobb exclaimed with a sly grin, lifting his right arm and taking off his glove. There were shiny metal plates where his flesh and blood hand had once been, and Din’s stomach twisted painfully.
“You lost it? How much…?”
“All of it,” Cobb lamented, rolling up his sleeve as far as he was able, revealing a metal forearm welded to an elaborate jointed elbow. “Everything from my collarbone to my fingers on this side,” he continued, “shot damn well almost killed me. Fett loaned me his bacta tank and his mod artist and now… here I am. Did no one…” He narrowed his eyes. “Did no one tell you I was alive?”
Din shook his head, not trusting himself to speak, and Cobb swore.
“Son of a bitch, really? No wonder I hadn’t heard from you! Shit, I’m real sorry, Mando, didn’t mean to scare you like that…”
“It’s, it’s alright,” Din replied, his voice wavering as tears slid down between the lip of his helmet and onto his cuirass. “It’s not your fault that no one told me. I’m just thankful you’re alive.”
Cobb grinned, hooking his hands into his belt loops.
“Me too. I’m just about to make the trip home, by the way, in case you ever felt like visiting me there again.”
“How long until you’ll be home?” Din spoke in a rush.
“Half a day? Tops?”
With that, Din changed directions entirely as he switched his coordinates to the Arkanis sector.
“I’ll meet you there.”
———————————————————————
Din sped through the stars, fast as he was able, back to Tatooine. Back to Cobb Vanth, this enigmatic man he had fallen so very much in love with, and wasn’t that something. That Din could love someone so fiercely, so loyally, who was not his soul mate. He had heard of this sort of thing happening before, of course, folks who had rejected the very notion of their soul mate in lieu of whoever they fancied. Taboo as it was, Din couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t care if Cobb had once had a soul mate, didn’t care what had happened to them or if Cobb had rejected them altogether. Din didn’t care about the name on his wrist, and he wouldn’t care if someday it turned black as ash.
Right now, all Din cared about was seeing Cobb with his very own eyes, reaffirming the fact that he was alive. That he was safe. That he was well.
He was not disappointed.
He touched down just outside of Freetown at dusk, where only a handful of curious townsfolk still resided outside. Jo met him at his ship.
“Marshal said you’d be here soon,” she said with a smile. “Glad to have him home. You too, for that matter. We’ve missed you both.”
Din jumped down from his Starfighter, a wave of dust in his wake and his voice in his throat. He jerked his head in the direction of the other end of town.
“Is Cobb at home?”
Jo nodded pleasantly.
“Yup! He’s supposed to be resting though, he’s still recovering the rest of his strength, not that I expect he’ll do anything of the sort.” She rolled her eyes dramatically and sighed. “Still, let him get some rest, alright? Don’t keep him up too late.”
Din nodded, and Jo outstretched her arms.
“Hand me the little womp rat, will you? I’ll watch him for you for the night.”
Din complied, handing over the sleepy Grogu, and waved, then walked the short trek to Cobb’s home on the southern outskirts of town. A place he’d come to think of as his own home, throughout these many months he’d called Cobb his dear friend. His hands shook as he reached for the door to knock gently.
“It’s open!”
Din took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and punched the code into the door’s control panel. He stepped inside, and the house looked very much the same as the last time he had been here, albeit with much more dust on all of the surfaces. He shook the sand from his cape and toed off his boots, and when he raised his head he was met with his favorite pair of kind hazel eyes.
“Hey partner,” Cobb whispered, leaning heavily on the wall for support and looking rather exhausted. “Glad you could make it.”
Din stalled, weighing his options. How did he want to proceed? Did he want things to continue on as they were? Or did he want change?
Fuck it.
Din threw all caution to the wind like a man out of his mind. He crossed the room in three long strides, hooking his fingers under his helmet and pulling frantically. Cobb looked on, startled.
“Mando, what…”
Then, before Cobb could even get a look at his face, Din was kissing him fervently, pushing at Cobb until his back was against the wall. It didn’t matter to Din that he had never kissed anyone before, and it didn’t matter how Cobb reacted. All that mattered was that he got his feelings all out in the open, completely unmistakable.
Finally, he pulled away, his nose mere inches from Cobb’s and their breath mingling together, and slotted their foreheads together. He was afraid, for an agonizing moment, that Cobb might be angry, that he might retaliate and never speak to him again. That fear was laid to rest quickly, however, as soon as Cobb crashed his mouth back against Din’s, their tongues sliding together.
“Fuck Mando, never thought you had it in you…” Cobb panted between open-mouth kisses, “…always dreamed of this, ya’know… never thought you’d come around though, and…”
Din nipped at Cobb’s lower lip as he began to work at the buttons of his shirt.
“You… talk too much…”
Cobb threw his head back and laughed as Din‘s fingers fumbled with the clasps. When Cobb finally let the garment slip from his shoulders, Din froze as his eyes caught metal.
“Oh shit,” he whispered, “you really did lose all of it.”
He continued to stare, but Cobb’s flesh and blood hand gently took hold of his chin and directed his eyes away. When they locked eyes, Cobb was smiling.
“Well, would you look at that? Brown eyes, hmm?”
Din just chuckled, leaning his cheek into Cobb’s hand.
“Brown eyes.”
“You broke your nose at some point,” Cobb continued, using his hand to turn Din’s face this way and that. “A mustache too, are you fucking with me right now? No one will even see it!”
Din laughed, wrapping one hand around Cobb’s and kissing his palm.
“Some things are just for me,” he said, and Cobb laughed too.
“I suppose now it’s for me too?” he asked hopefully.
Din tugged Cobb by his belt loops, towards where he knew the other man’s bedroom was.
“Everything I have, everything I am, Cobb Vanth, it’s all for you.”
———————————————————————-
The night passed in a blur of sensations and emotions and laughter, and before he knew it, Din was waking with Tatoo II. He was lying on his back, in a soft bed for the first time in ages, with Cobb draped over his middle and snoring lightly. Din smiled as he brushed a strand of stray hair from Cobb’s forehead, and as they lay there together in the morning stillness, Din let himself feel peace.
Peace, however, was short-lived, as his bladder had other plans. He slowly extracted himself from Cobb’s vice-like hold, removed his left arm from around his middle, and froze.
There was a name scrawled across Cobb’s thin wrist. One he knew all too well but rarely spoke.
Din Djarin.
Din couldn’t stop himself from gasping out loud. How could this be true? The wheels in his head were turning at light speed, until he was interrupted when Cobb snorted himself awake at his side.
“Mornin’ darlin,’” he drawled, rubbing at his eyes with his good hand. “Mmm, you ok? Look like you seen a ghost.”
Din just continued to stare open-mouth at Cobb’s wrist, not even bothering to try to school his expression. Cobb followed Din’s gaze, and when he realized what he was staring at, he laughed somewhat self-consciously.
“Oh, you found my soul mark, did you?” he asked, letting his smile drop. “Does that… does that change things for you?”
“… change things?” Din asked incredulously.
“About what we did last night,” Cobb clarified. “Unless that was a one-off for you, then I suppose it doesn’t matter. Honestly though…” he bit his bottom lip, working his jaw back and forth nervously. “I’d be willing to give us a real shot, soulmate be damned, if you wanted it as well. I’ve lost too many years of my life wishing and wanting him, and I wouldn’t mind trying to chase some real happiness for a change.”
Din abruptly sat up, leaving Cobb to fall back to the old mattress with a yelp. He took Cobb’s arm into his hands, touching the mark with all the respect he could muster.
“Cobb, I don’t know if this is some sort of cosmic joke, but…” He breathed in deeply through his nose. “ I’m Din Djarin. My name, I’ve never given it to you, I’m sorry.”
Cobb’s eyes darted quickly back and forth between his own wrist and Din’s face, clearly doing some quick thinking.
“You?” he croaked.
“This doesn’t make sense though,” Din mumbled as he stood from the bed and began to pace. “The name on my wrist isn’t yours. So does that mean I’m your soulmate but you’re not mine? How could that possibly be true? How would that even work?”
“Mando, er, Din,” Cobb corrected as he perched himself on the side of the bed, reaching for him. “What name is on your wrist?”
Din hesitated, afraid to set the matter to rest once and for all, before offering his hand to Cobb. As his eyes scanned the name, they both uttered the words at the same time.
“Lin Amon.”
There were a series of expressions that passed over Cobb’s face in rapid succession. Confusion. Disbelief. Joy. Outright elation.
“Holy shit Din,” he breathed out, and then suddenly laughter bubbled out of his throat. Din froze, unable to imagine a situation less funny than the one they were currently in, until Cobb squeezed his hand so tight it hurt.
“Din, I’m Lin Amon!”
Din suddenly felt too hot and too cold all at once, his limbs turning to static in the interim.
“ What… ”
“That’s my birth name! The name I was given when I was born in a slave camp! I changed it after I freed myself, but I suppose your soul mark wouldn’t change too!”
Before he could get a word in edgewise, Cobb stood to face him properly, holding both of Din’s hands against his chest.
“ I’m your soulmate, Din.”
Tears were falling down Din’s cheeks freely before he could even fully comprehend the situation.
Lin Amon was Cobb Vanth.
Cobb Vanth was his soulmate . He’d been beside him for so long.
He pulled Cobb tightly to his chest, weeping openly into his messy hair, and he could feel Cobb’s own tears wet his chest in return. As they stood there, buck naked and crying in the low light of Cobb’s bedroom at dawn, Din Djarin felt whole.
———————————————————————-
“How come you changed your name?” Din asked over breakfast one morning, weeks later, as Cobb poured caf for them both at the stove. Cobb raised an eyebrow.
“Why?” he asked, handing Din his drink and settling in opposite him. Din shrugged.
“I’m curious, sue me.”
Cobb laughed at that, took a sip of his own brew, and drummed his fingers on the table.
“Wanted a truly fresh start, I suppose. Most of my family history is unknown anyway, so I was never terribly attached to it to begin with.”
Din nodded as he blew on his caf.
“Why did you choose Cobb Vanth?”
Cobb scratched at his beard in thought.
“Ah, good question. Vanth is for Lin Vanth, who won the Boonta Eve Classic when I was seventeen. I idolized her, and we even shared the same first name, so it was a given. As for Cobb ,” he continued, a sly grin on his face. “Just sounded cool.”
Din snorted into his caf.
“How very like you.”
Cobb’s grin only grew.
“So are we playing a questions game now? Cause I’d like to participate.”
Din gestured to Cobb with his free hand.
“By all means.”
“How old were you when you got your soul mark?”
“Seven,” Din replied, and Cobb tutted.
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“Nothing really, I’d just been told when I was a kid that the oldest of a soul pair got their mark when the other one was born. I guess you got your mark at the same age I got mine. Didn’t realize that was how it worked.”
Din lifted his eyes from his caf, smirking.
“Are you really that much older than me?”
Cobb laughed as he rose from the table to take their breakfast off the stove.
“Didn’t hear you complaining last night, honey.”
Din laughed too, but his smile suddenly fell. Cobb tilted his head curiously.
“What?”
“Just… thinking. Something happened to you when you were… nineteen? You almost died, my mark turned red, almost black. What happened?”
Cobb plated their food with a slightly closed-off expression.
“Ah, that would have been when I got this.” He hooked a thumb into the back of his sleep shirt and pulled, revealing the slaver’s brand that Din already knew was there. “Got mighty infected, ran a super high fever. The healer in our camp said I slipped away once or twice, had to stim me back to the living.” He placed Din’s food in front of him.
“I’m not surprised your mark turned red.”
Din looked at his food forlornly, imagining a nineteen year old Cobb that was so sick he was knocking on death’s door. It didn’t settle well with him. Cobb just tapped Din’s leg with his foot.
“It was a long time ago, darlin.’ No use fixating over it.”
Din hummed, before slowly beginning to eat.
“Your turn. What do you want to know?”
Cobb took a bite of his own food as he contemplated.
“I heard there’s a way for Mandos to kiss with their helmets on, is that true? Or is that banthashit?”
Din smiled, then slowly rose from the table. He stood before Cobb, who quirked a curious eyebrow, and leaned over him to gently knock their foreheads together.
“We call this a ‘keldabe kiss.’”
Cobb sighed happily.
“That so? It’s… nice.” He broke away from Din for just a moment to cup his jaw with his left hand.
“I think I still prefer the old-fashioned way.”
Then they were kissing, soft and sweet, and Din thought that if this is what he got to experience from now on, maybe the decades wait for his soul mate to show up was well-worth it.
———————————————————————
“Welcome back, darlin,” came Cobb’s voice from the foyer as Din walked in the door. Din smiled as he removed his boots and helmet before joining his partner in their home.
They had been together for years now, five to be exact. They were living temporarily on Mandalore, in a posh apartment that frankly neither of them knew what to do with. Din was the active Manda’lor for now, but he didn’t intend for it to stay that way. No, this fancy life didn’t suite either of them, and Cobb yearned for Tatooine while Din yearned for the stars. So this life was just for a little while, but their relationship was for the long haul.
Din embraced Cobb from behind as he entered the living area. Cobb leaned into the embrace, then wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“You stink, sweetheart.”
Din pouted in return.
“Rude.”
“Listen,” Cobb turned around in Din’s arms and cupped his face in his hands, “I’m a Tatooine boy, I get it, but why don’t you jump in the shower before we eat, yeah?”
Cobb gave Din’s cheeks one final squish before turning away, but Din spun him back around.
“Actually, I want to show you something first.”
Cobb raised his eyebrows in question as Din removed his left vambrace and rolled up his sleeve.
“I did something… I hope you’re not mad.”
He flipped his wrist over, and Cobb froze.
There, on Din’s wrist, was the soul mark, Lin Amon. However, there was a single line of tattoo ink through the name, and Cobb Vanth was written underneath.
“I’ve been wanting to get this done for a while, and I found an artist that could do it for cheap. Is that… is that okay?”
Cobb rubbed his fingers over the tattoo, and Din shivered. He interlaced their fingers together and tenderly kissed the mark.
“I love it, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
As they embraced, Din tucked his chin into Cobb’s chest, and he thanked whatever power finally brought this man to him.