Chapter Text
The day of the party came, and Cobb was given an outfit fitting for a Mandalorian of nobility. The tunic was high at the neck, and the fabric was dark. It was thicker than he was used to, but then Mandalore wasn’t so hot as he was used to either. Cobb had tried to refuse the pauldrons, with some sense of guilt at wearing beskar as a non-Mandalorian, but his protests wouldn’t hold water without compromising the ruse. They were beautiful, at least, carved with ornate depictions of flowers that didn’t look like any that existed on his home planet. It highlighted the broadness of his shoulders compared to where a red sash was tied around his waist.
He saw Din across the room talking to a man in blue armour. Din was done up in some beautiful Mandalorian finery, and his armour shined to gleam in the light. There was some added colour to his armour, his signet accented in a green outline. His cuirass was gone, and instead, he wore a dark blue shirt that dipped into a v-shape on his chest. A gloveless hand rested on the hilt of the Darksaber at his hip.
He looked beautiful, and Cobb wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to tell him. Enough that they could reasonably seem together, but not enough that Din would know he had haunted Cobb’s dreams for a year. It was a fine line to tread.
Cobb met him with a kiss on his metal cheek, and made excuses to whisk him away to the bar.
“Sufficiently regal, Mand’alor?” said Cobb, gesturing at his outfit. He did a little spin and smiled with the way the kama fell across his hips.
“Looks good, Marshal,” Din said. It was impossible to read his expression, his visor fixed on Cobb nonetheless.
“Quite the outfit you’ve got going on too, dear husband,” Cobb said. “You can fight in that?”
“Of course, I can,” Din said.
“What a sight that would be,” Cobb said and grinned at him, and Din dipped his helmet.
Another pair of Mandalorians approached them and wished their congratulations, and as more people started arriving, they ebbed and flowed away to talk to people before returning to each other's side. Cobb found himself dancing with anyone who asked, so long as his husband didn’t mind stealing him away.
The music comprised an eclectic mix of the galaxy’s sounds. Some songs Cobb knew, some he had never heard before. At one point, from the first few notes, half the room flocked to the dance floor with an air of duty, with many people of all different designs in armour falling into step with determined moves. A child too young for a helmet saw him stand by the side of the floor and tugged his sleeve, insisting the moves were easy enough to repeat. He did his best to pick it up before the last section and saw Din watching him from across the room.
When the song ended, Din found him, and he gratefully accepted another drink. As he handed it over, he tried not to think too hard about the feeling of Din’s bare fingers against his, a flash of contact.
“Nothin’ like this one in Mos Pelgo. As my husband, I do believe you’re bound by duty to help me swipe a bottle of this to take home,” Cobb said.
“Was that part of the deal?” Din responded. He crossed his arms over his chest and his helmet tilted in amusement.
“You've never been married on Tatooine before, I see. It's in the vows. Keep me well watered.” He raised a glass in a toast. “You remember them, don’t you, sweetheart?” Cobb said with mock innocence.
“That's not the usual courting gift for a Mandalorian.”
“And what would be?”
“What?” Din said.
“For our cover. What did you get me?”
“It… varies. A handmade weapon. An enemy dead at your feet.”
“‘Spose that dragon will do, ” Cobb said with a short sip of the liquid.
When Din didn’t immediately respond, Cobb wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Din sighed and said, “I’ll get you the tihaar.”
Cobb hummed in thanks and stepped closer to Din, and gently placed a kiss to the cold metal of Din’s cheek before ducking to nudge the bottom of the helmet with the tip of his nose. Din lifted the helmet in an invitation, his other arm coming around Cobb’s shoulders to pull him forwards.
Cobb’s heart raced a little at kissing Din, even if it was just for show. He could tell his head that easy enough, but not his body. Din pressed forward to kiss him back.
“I believe I also owe you a dance?” said Din. Cobb was glad to have a distraction, away from the weird elated sinking feeling in his chest of real-not-real-real.
“Lead the way, Mand’alor,” Cobb said, offering Din his arm.
He knew people would be watching them now. Just a dance.
The dance began with their hands clasped, at arm's length apart, and Din pulled him forward to gently knock his helmet against Cobb’s forehead, resting together for a few seconds before they parted again. From then they came together again, without a kiss, and Din came to rest his hands on his waist as they moved to the music. They moved gracefully enough, without practice, making it up as they went as the song continued. All those months ago, they had fought together, Cobb following Din’s lead and easily falling in alongside. It was simple.
“We won't be married when you leave,” Din said as they turned.
“Mm. I’ll have it as a souvenir from that time we were married,” Cobb smiled. “And drink it when I think about you.”
“Did you think about me? When I was gone?”
“More than I should’ve I reckon,” Cobb said, stepping backwards in time while Din stepped forward.
“I’m glad you did,” Din responded. “Think of me. I was thinking about you.”
“You were, were you?” Cobb smiled. Cobb wanted to believe it was real, but had refused to consider that it was. Here Din was suggesting that he felt similarly? He had to be sure. He needed to be sure.
“Shit, Cobb. I don’t know how to do this,” said Din.
“You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Din,” Cobb said.
“Can we get out of here?” Din said. He had talked to too many people today, he was getting tired though it wasn’t near the end of the night for most of the guests.
The song built up to its ending, and Cobb stepped close to Din. He brought his head down to his in a gentle Keldabe kiss. “Think it’s our party, darlin’. We can call it a night whenever we want and leave them to it,” Cobb said.
They pulled apart and bowed a little awkwardly to the other Mandalorians who had watched them dance. Din didn’t let go of his hand when they left the dancefloor and kept walking back to the privacy of his apartment.
“I’ve been thinking about you since I came back those months ago. Ever since I first met you.”
“You’ve known where to find me,” Cobb said, hesitantly. “I’ve been pretty firmly planted until recently.”
“I know. It wasn’t fair, I-” Din laughed nervously and said. “I didn’t want to ask you to come here. To leave them.”
“But Old Sundari does have its charm,” Cobb responded.
“And then suddenly you were here. I’ve really enjoyed having you with me here… I need to know which part of this isn’t a lie. To not die, to get me to help you, whatever it is.”
“I’ve told plenty of lies, but I hope not to you,” Cobb said. “I’m not lying when I say I’ve grown real fond of you. I wanted you, too. Is that enough?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s enough,” Din responded. “Bo-Katan. She asked me this morning - I don’t know if she cares or if she just wanted to see what I would say. She asked me why you.”
“What did you tell her?” asked Cobb.
“What I told you about once. You’re not Mandalorian, but you’ve got everything I value as a Mandalorian. You’re brave, and loyal, and you protect. You would’ve raised my kid. Fuck, I never even doubted that.” Din said. “It was honest.”
“Can I kiss you again? For real this time?” Cobb said.
Cobb pressed him gently into the wall beside the door. Din’s bare hands held onto Cobb’s hips over his kama.
“Please do,” Din said.
Cobb dipped down slightly to press a kiss to Din’s neck, much more exposed in this outfit than he’d ever seen on him. He didn’t know if that was weird given that he’d been under the helmet before but it felt right.
“I wanted to,” Cobb said. “I wanted to kiss you all night, and I just couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to push my luck - didn’t want to take more than we needed to keep it up.”
“I asked you to stay. I didn’t want to take more than I should’ve from you.”
“Well, uja, you can have whatever you want. For you, not for them. Can I lift it?”
“Please,” Din said, a little more breathless.
“Very fond,” Cobb repeated. He pushed up the helmet to Din’s nose, no more than he had done himself before. The trust Din placed in him melted Cobb’s brain a little, and all he could do was surge forward to kiss him again. One hand on the lip of the helmet, the other placed on the wall behind Din. Din’s arms circled around his waist to pull him closer and crush their mouths together.
“Come back to me,” Cobb breathed. He took a moment to brush light kisses against the exposed line of Din’s jaw. “I don’t care when, just say you’ll come back. Even for a little while.”
“I will. I promise,” Din whispered and pulled him back to his mouth.