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In the days since Din arrived back in Mos Pelgo- Freetown- he hadn’t known Cobb to take many breaks, which is why him begging off for the day just past noon felt so wrong. “I’m fine,” he’d said, waving his hands vaguely in Din’s direction. “You’ve got this condenser well in hand, anyway. Right, Jo?”
“See you tomorrow, Marshall!” The new deputy called after him without looking up from her task. She appeared unphased as Cobb left the pair of them staring into the guts of the machine unhindered by the third set of hands. “Hand me those wire strippers, will ya, Mando?”
Din found a pair and handed them over. His attention strayed to watch the man walk away, and beneath his helmet, his eyes pinched with concern. Cobb had a unique swagger borne from learning to walk in the sands with a blaster on his hip, but that couldn’t have been the reason for his leftward tilt. Something seemed off most of the morning, but Din couldn’t place it.
“Pliers.” Jo tore him out of his head, and Din shook himself out of his daze. Once they fixed the condenser, he could find him. Yeah, that would be alright, wouldn’t it? “Ahem, Tatooine to Mando?” Her hand waved in front of his visor.
“Sorry,” Din offered the tool and refocused his attention.
She sighed and sat back on her haunches to look at him. “It’s all right.” She wiped the back of her arm across her forehead, brushing her sweaty curls away. “I’m a little worried too.”
He blinked, not that Jo could see it. “Why’s that?”
Her mouth pulled into a thin line, and Jo seemed to weigh the pros and cons of telling him more before she took the pliers from him. “He hasn’t been sleeping much. It’s the only reason I agreed to take over for Scott; bless his soul. Ever since he got back from Jabba’s old palace, he’s been jumpy. Unfocused.”
Din hummed and watched as Jo neatly crimped the wires she’d stripped. “Yeah.” It was good to know, well not good, but at least Din didn’t imagine Cobb’s odd behaviour. “I’ll stop by after.”
“Good idea.” Jo smiled before knocking one of her knuckles against his helmet. “Now, you can solder these together, can’t you? That bucket ought to be good for something.”
Later, once they finished fixing the condenser and Din shook off the strange sense of familiarity working with Jo brought with it, he headed for the Marshal’s place. It wasn’t far. Nothing in Freetown was, for that matter. The suns were past their summit now, and the day's heat was with them in full force. Under his helmet, sweat beaded across his forehead and dampened his hair despite the internal fans working to the best of their ability.
Through the hours engaging with Jo, Din learned that Cobb hadn’t taken a break since he returned from his stint in the bacta tank. He’d have liked to be there when he woke, but they couldn't remain stationary with Grogu returned to his care for more than a few days. Even out here in the dunes, they wouldn’t be safe for long. Greef and Boba were doing what they could to mitigate his bounty situation, as was Cara. Still, until he could ensure his data was wiped clean from the Imperial’s systems, it was safer for everyone to be mobile.
They had another night here or maybe two if Din stretched it. He sighed as he kicked the sand from his boots at the entrance to Vanth’s home. Grogu was safe with the other children, playing games in the shade and chasing tiny heat bugs and lizards under the watchful eye of the Tuskens who’d made Freetown a more permanent settlement in the recent months since their truce.
He knocked at the door, and upon hearing no reply, he tried the keypad. It opened to an empty living room. “Vanth?” he called and stepped inside to keep the heat out.
Din’s visor adjusted to the lower light within a few seconds, and he walked deeper into the space. He’d been here a few times now but apparently, not recently enough. Before, it wasn’t perfectly tidy, but now a layer of dust settled over most things, and Cobb hadn’t even bothered to toss out ration pack wrappers or right a spilled bottle of spotchka. While liquid evaporated quickly even inside Tatooine homes, the sticky residue would take a decent scrubbing to clean up now.
His concern grew as he wandered through the house toward the only bedroom. Din didn’t know where to look next if Cobb wasn't there. He wasn’t in the Catina when he left Jo behind.
“Cobb?” he asked as he let himself into the bedroom. He didn’t have to look far. The man was in bed, curled onto his side and facing away from the door. Din’s hands fell to his sides, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His voice dropped to a whisper. “There you are.”
The man didn’t stir, and Din nearly turned to leave him. He would have, if not for the uneven cadence of his breathing. Instead, Din crossed the room carefully and promised to go after ensuring Cobb was okay. Din just needed to see his face, but what he saw didn’t calm his nerves. His face was flushed.
Din tore off one of his gloves and pressed a careful hand to his forehead. He flinched. “You’re burning up.” His skin was dry, too, like he hadn’t been sweating despite his fever. Heatstroke was common enough on Tatooine that everyone knew the signs. Din needed to get some water into him and get that fever down before it could burn him out.
“Cobb,” Din said his name louder this time, gently shaking his arm. Cobb groaned and meekly batted his arm away. “Come on, Cobb. You’ve got to wake up.”
“Kriff, Mando.” His voice sounded wrecked, like his throat was full of sand, but he did open his eyes. Unfortunately, they were unfocused as he grabbed for the empty holster on his hip. “What is it?”
“Drink this,” Din thrust his canteen into Cobb’s hands and closed his fingers around it. Cobb made to argue, but Din wasn’t having that. “Drink it. You’ve got heatstroke.”
That only seemed to make things worse. Cobb sat halfway up, his weight on his good arm as he pushed the canteen away from himself with his bad one. “No, I don’t. I’m just tired, is all.”
Din tapped the side of his helmet and switched to thermal imaging. “I can see your body temperature, Cobb,” he said, using the tone he reserved for Grogu when he misbehaved. “Drink the karking water.”
Flinching at the admonishment, Cobb gave in. While he did so, Din took it upon himself to start stripping him down. Clothing would only trap heat against his body. He managed one boot before Cobb realized what he was up to and tried to pull away. He coughed around the canteen. “What’re you doing?”
Shaking his head, Din levelled him with an unseen glare, and he tugged the second boot off his foot. “Have you never dealt with heatstroke before?”
“N- no.”
“Oh.” Din slowed down and explained himself. “Once you’ve cooled off and got some water in you, you can sleep. Okay? So just drink that slow.”
Cobb nodded and didn’t fight so hard when Din unfastened his belts and the buttons on his shirt. When he got to the clasp on Cobb’s pants, he found Cobb’s hand on his wrist. “I think I’ve got it from here, partner.”
Din flinched away and blushed furiously under his helmet. He took a step back and cleared his throat. “I’ll uh, go grab some more water.”
Once he was in the hall, the realization hit Din like a blaster bolt. He’d been undressing Cobb in the man’s bedroom. Sure, it was for medical treatment, but it wasn’t like he’d ever touched him like that before. One of his gloves was still in his belt. His bare skin touched Cobb’s chest as he pulled his shirt off. Cobb must have been feeling particularly awful if he hadn’t taken the opportunity to joke about it. He could almost hear it now, “If this is all I had to do to convince you to get me naked, I’d have gotten heatstroke long ago.”
He shook his head, trying to dispel that thought. No. Things weren’t like that between them. They’d- they’d almost been and could have been in a different life. But now, with Grogu back, Din couldn’t do that to Cobb. He couldn’t start something and leave again. Din was always going, and watching the pain ghost across Cobb’s face each time made it worse. Maybe he imagined it. But- but perhaps he wasn’t. Din couldn’t say for sure.
Din returned with a cold cloth and more water, and he let himself back into the bedroom. Cobb was lying down again, nude except for a pair of shorts. This was the first time Din saw the blaster injury Bane left behind, and he tried not to stare. A gnarly scar peaked out on either side of the plating covering his artificial shoulder. They saved his arm, but the joint wasn’t salvageable despite the bacta treatments.
Cobb propped himself up enough on the pillows so that he could drink when Din offered him another glass of water. He sipped at it while Din brought a chair over so he could sit beside the bed. “Here,” he offered the damp cloth next.
“What’s that for?” He sounded better around the lip of the water glass than earlier.
“Lean forward a bit,” Din said. When Cobb complied with a slight narrowing of his eyes, he placed the cloth over the back of his neck, making him shiver. He held it there and asked: “How’s that?”
“Cold.”
Din couldn’t help chuckling. “That’s the point.”
Cobb grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue or move away as Din kept his hand steady to hold it in place. He leaned with his elbows on bent knees and sipped the water slowly between long, deep breaths.
A few drops of water rolled down Cobb’s back, following the lines of his scars. Din watched them, and while he would feel guilty for it later, he committed the marks to memory as Din had done with every other part of Cobb he’d been allowed to learn. He would recognize the mole under his eye anywhere and the tilt of his lips when he grinned. He could feel his mouth going dry as he studied and felt himself matching his breathing to Cobb’s.
When Cobb finished the water, he cleared his throat. “What’s next?”
Din used his free hand to press on his visor controls again. “Your fever’s gone down some. So you can sleep the rest of it off,” he said and pulled the cloth away. “Let me grab you another refill for when you wake up.”
He stood only to stop when Cobb reached for his hand. “You’re not-” Cobb stopped and distracted himself by taking the cloth. His fingers lingered longer than strictly necessary against Din’s wrist. The touch was almost electric between them- or at least it was for Din. Cobb drew back, pressing the cloth to his neck and brushing it over his collar bones, leaving a shiny trail of moisture behind. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
Din smiled and shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”
When he returned, Din helped Cobb settle down further into the bed, and he drew the thin sheet over his waist while leaving the heavier blanket bunched at his feet. With his fever controlled, the sheet would be a welcome weight rather than a hindrance to his recovery. Din pressed his bare wrist to Cobb’s forehead once more for his sanity. He could see the visual readout, but something about touching Cobb and feeling that he wasn’t burning up so terribly now settled him.
He didn’t mean to loom, but Cobb caught him before he could retreat. His fingers wrapped into the rough fabric of Din’s cowl to pull him closer, and it didn’t take much to give in to instinct and press his forehead to Cobb’s. His eyes slid closed.
Din felt Cobb shiver, but he didn’t let go.
“You okay?” Din’s voice felt thick in his throat like he was trying to talk underwater. The helmet’s shape spread the pressure of their joining across his entire brow and down the bridge of his nose.
“‘Mm good. You?”
He breathed out, letting all of the air fall out of his lungs in a long whoosh. He wished he could feel Cobb against his skin and belatedly remembered that he could, at least a little, as his bare hand found its way to Cobb’s jaw. The bristles of his beard were softer than the stubble on Din’s face, but he didn’t have much to compare it to beyond that.
They remained in place until Cobb drew back into the pillow just enough to break contact. Din almost whined for the loss, but then Cobb was tugging weakly at his cowl and silently asking him to lay down. Din was powerless under the unspoken need. He climbed into the bed, only stopping long enough to kick off his boots.
Cobb immediately moved into his space, wrapping himself around Din as if he belonged there and rested his face against the rigid panes of Din’s beskar cuirass. He sighed, long and low, making Din chuckle again.
"Want me to take this off?" Din asked softly, his knuckles tapping the metal once and letting the beskar ring in the silence.
"No. S'cold. Nice."
Din hummed and settled beside him. His bare fingers began to trace nonsense patterns on his back until he could feel Cobb’s weight drop fully into him as he fell asleep within a handful of minutes.
Once he knew for sure that Cobb was out. Din took his chances and slipped his helmet off. He'd done it before, for Grogu. But not for Cobb. Not yet. He wanted to. Din has wished to show Cobb his face with everything he is, but a lifetime of what Kryze would call brainwashing has kept him from doing just that. Guilt caught in his throat, threatening to choke him each time he’d tried.
Cobb's hair was soft against his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to his crown. He's not so warm now compared to a handful of minutes ago, and the even pace of Cobb's breathing is so much sweeter now that he can hear it. Unfortunately, the helmet muffles the small noises like this, almost like it was intentional, just another thing to depersonalize his interactions. He spends longer than he would admit to anyone listening to Grogu sleep like this.
Cobb sounds different, in a good way. His breaths are heavier, and every so often, he snores.
Din stayed just like this for a while, matching his breathing to Cobb's and relishing in the sensations. Touch. Smell. It's something else. The guilt ebbs the longer he sits without the helmet, and he almost allows himself to drift and doze.
A noise in the distance breaks him of that notion. It's nothing more than a speeder engine misfiring, and the shouts of apology confirm it, but it's enough that he jumped and disturbed Cobb.
And his helmet is on the bed behind Cobb. It's- beneath his beskar, Din's heart races, and his stomach feels like it's trying to climb out of his throat.
"You okay, partner?" Cobb asks him with a thick voice. He's still half asleep. It's been an hour, maybe two, since he drifted off. The light is low now, slanted through the high windows and almost gold-coloured.
"Yeah." Din clears his throat. He knows Cobb will be able to tell his helmet is off. The vocoder is so different from his actual voice. "Go back to sleep."
Cobb stiffens just a little against him. He's awake now and losing the softness sleep provided. The hand not trapped between them rises from its comfortable place over Din's stomach to cover his eyes. "Eyes are closed. You're okay." He promises like he's the one in the wrong and not Din. "You can put it back on."
Din carefully levers himself up, and Cobb rolls off him onto his back. One hand firmly over his eyes. The helmet is there, but when Din reaches, he finds his hand on Cobb's wrist instead of on the beskar. When Din tugs, Cobb lets his hand go, but his eyes are still firmly shut. Din can see the strain with the golden light painting his face.
"Cobb," Din says gently. He's close, their noses only a hand's width apart. He leans down, with his heart trying to burst out of his chest, and he presses his lips to Cobb's.
The tension melts out of Cobb's brow, and after a stunned moment, he tilts his head up to kiss back. Din only pulls back far enough to bring Cobb's face into focus when they break apart. Out of that weird middle ground where it's hard to focus. He brings Cobb's hand to his cheek and presses his palm against his jaw.
Cobb takes the invitation to trace his features. His fingers are rough against his stubble, and they trace the curve of his nose before ghosting over his eyelids and brows. Din kisses his wrist when it gets close enough to his mouth.
"I want you to see me," he whispers.
"I see you," Cobb tells him with his eyes still closed. "I don't need you to show me."
A beat passes between them, and Din is more sure now than he’s ever been. As a child, he had doubts about the Creed. He messed up so badly with Grogu at first, and even now, he knows he should find a way to be a better father. All his inadequacies threaten to tumble out of his throat, but only one thing does: "I need you to see me, Cobb. Please."
The smile that spreads across Cobb’s face is only made sweeter by the soft hazel of his eyes, unimpeded by his visor. This time when Cobb’s fingers trace his cheekbones, Din closes his eyes and leans into the touch. It’s almost too much to bare, but Cobb’s lips touch his again, chaste and warm. When he meets Cobb’s eyes again, they’re grinning like fools.
“I was right about that smile of yours,” Cobb tells him. “I’d let you get away with just about anything if you give me a chance.”
“I’d like that, but-.”
Cobb cuts him off with a finger against his lips. “You don’t have to stay.” His hand slides to cup Din’s cheek. “I know you can’t.” He leans up to kiss Din once more and, against his lips, says: “But you’ll promise to come back?”
“As long as I live, I’ll always come back to you.”
He nods and lets him go. “Then it’s enough.”