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missypup · 2 years

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DinCobb Speed Write Time!

I was prompted “2 hours - DinCobb - Beskar” and well... This is what I made?

It’s a fluffy little -- marriage fic? Yeah, my brain went right there. (Also, I know literally nothing about Mandalorian riduurok/marriage but yeah... Just did it anyway.) Also, this broke the writer’s block I was struggling with today which I’m pumped about. I really liked the limitation of writing what I could.

So yeah - DinCobb below the cut. All fluff. Not edited or even read over. 2.3K words. Enjoy!

The weight of the armor should have been a familiar feeling to Cobb Vanth.

Not too long ago he had been strutting around Mos Pelgo in armor that didn’t belong to him, didn’t properly fit, and he had no real idea how to care for it. And now, well - times had changed. Without the armor, Cobb had been careful. He fell back on instincts. But careful on Tatooine only gets a man so far.

Cad Bane strolling into Freetown had been the end of careful.

The whir of the servos in his prosthetic arm as he lifted the helmet off the table reminded him of the run in with the bounty hunter. Staring at his reflection, Cobb hesitated. He knew why he had this armor now, knew that he could remove it any time given the new Manda’lor’s rules, but didn’t know why it felt so foreign.

“Don’t put that on yet.” Din’s voice came from behind him, jarring him back to reality.

“Why not?” Cobb asked, a bit annoyed he couldn’t readily make his own decision on the armor that was his, not someone else's this time.

“You know why.” Din hummed as he walked over to Cobb, gently taking the helmet from him before placing a soft kiss to Cobb’s cheek.

They took a moment to press their foreheads together before Din stepped away with the helmet. Cobb watched him go, admiring how soft his curls looked, knowing how soft his curls were. Really, Cobb was unsure when Din being unmasked around him had become less foreign to him. Maybe wearing the armor would share the same gradual acceptance.

Cobb turned back to the mirror, eyes gazing over his own face. A few years back, before he got the first set of armor taken from him, he’d always looked tired. Sad. People told him often, which was one reason he kept the helmet on so much back then. After the krayt dragon, he’d been worried. A bit more carefree without the monster or the Tuskens threatening his two, but still on edge. With the krayt dragon gone, the spice runners had begun moving into the territory in earnest.

After all of that, and after Boba Fett took the territory and began making peace throughout Tatooine, while Cobb was recovering, he noticed a shift in himself. Being around Din every day while learning to use the prosthetic made him change. Taanti had pointed out Cobb’s attitude change the first time he had spent time around Din, and now he teased him about it daily. Now he felt young, with a spring in his step, despite both himself and Din being middle aged men.

Gray haired, grumpy old men with a penchant for getting hurt and a lot of love for their people. Their people. A collective, since Din had found Mandalore to be completely uninhabitable and Cobb had offered him room in Freetown. The expansion had not been too hard, not with Din taking jobs from Fett to pad out their credit balance while also scoring them additional hands from the now overstaffed Palace. And Cobb, in Din’s repeated absence, not only led the people and workers, but was accepted as a leader by the Mandalorians as well.

Back then, he had no idea why. No idea that while Din was out doing bounties and other odd jobs he was also collecting beskar back piece by piece. Sure, he and Din had been a conditionally official item since Cobb was recovering from Cad Bane’s shot, but Cobb assumed that meant very little to the Mandalorians Din was slowly bringing into the fold.

He was right, but wrong about the reason they listened to him. Assuming they listened out of common courtesy, or because he was still technically the marshal, just proved he knew little about Mandalorian culture. Fair to himself, Mandalorian remnants knew very little about Mandalorian culture too. In the end, they had been listening knowing that Din planned on making this man his riduur. His husband.

They had been aware long before Cobb that he was going to be, by marriage, a ruler too.

“Lost in thought, ori’vod?” Boba asked as he entered the room, carrying Cobb’s pauldrons with him.

“Bit.” Cobb responded wistfully. “Just thinkin’ how lucky I am, I guess. I’ve cheated death ‘least three times, but been in love none. Till now. An’ this armor? Fett, ya really out did yourself this time.”

Boba Fett had taken the Creed days after Din got back from Mandalore, and subsequently learned how to work the forge with the help of remnant Mandalorians and Paz Vizsla himself. When Din had proposed, he’d taken Cobb to Fett’s Palace the same night and had his body scanned for the forge. That had been a month prior.

With Din coming from a warrior culture, Cobb was not surprised at how fast the ceremony had been planned. Marriages Cobb had heard about in his past were very similar, since he came from a slave background. Spur of the moment arrangements, even faster than Din and Cobb’s.

“After all you’ve done for the Mandalorians and the people of Tatooine, you deserve the best.” Fett responded fondly as he affixed Cobb’s pauldrons to either shoulder. “And if it’s any ice on your nerves, Djarin has been gushing about how lucky he is too. He’s fallen hard for you over the past couple of years.”

“Well, reckon I am quite a catch.” Cobb chuckled, then let himself be turned towards the mirror once more. Fett carefully tied Vanth’s red bandana back around his neck as he let Vanth just gaze into the mirror.

The sight of the armor being almost complete should not have caused a lump to form in his throat, but it did. Because it felt so real now, especially with his eyes falling on the silver pauldrons, marked only with the mudhorn signet on one side and the symbol for House Mereel on the other. His eyes shifted from the unpainted pauldrons to the stark black cuirass, down to the green vambraces and handplates. More black along his hips and rear, green at his thighs and down. Though Din had taken the helmet elsewhere, he knew what it looked like too. Black with green around the visor and in the concaves of the cheeks, adorned with green jaig eyes, which had made Cobb’s own eyes go wide the first time he saw it.

“Get your blasters on your hips, Vanth. I’ll get your sen’tra.” Fett said as he turned to leave once more.

Cobb furrowed his brows, turning the word over to remember its meaning. When he managed to remember that was the word for jetpack he nearly laughed in glee. Learning Mando’a over the last couple of years had been - well, a challenge. The Mandalorian remnants had been helpful, but not without complications. Certain words had varying meanings depending on where the being had lived on Mandalore, or what sect they had reigned from. Some words had figurative meanings or no translations at all, which drove Cobb up the wall.

Still, now he stood before a mirror, armored and about to be married. Married! He realized, eyes wide as possible. Forever bonded to the man who had, nearly literally, threatened to kill him the moment they sat in a bar together. Who had later trusted him to care for his child in case he fell. The man that had killed a krayt dragon for him when the easier option was to hurt Cobb, take the armor and leave.

Though Din Djarin never seemed to be the man who took the easier option. Especially since he chose Cobb Vanth as his, and Cobb was far from an easy option. He’d been wary of Din, unsure of allowing someone into his walls, and scared of being used. The past had haunted him in a big way back then. But Din, ever patient and loving, had been right there with him, his own ghosts haunting him as well. So he understood. They knew each other in ways that other beings never could or would.

Putting his weapons on was - different. Weapons at a wedding. How Mandalorian. He now had not one blaster, but two. One on each hip, since he had learned to use his off hand while learning to control the prosthetic arm. Then he glanced at the vambraces, remembering what every button called forth, and that most of them would be used in the ceremony as well. The flamethrower was the important one, and the whistling birds was the one he definitely did not want to hit by accident.

Accidentally, Cobb hit his vambraces together, and the beskar sang from the movement. The sound reminded him of hearing Mandalorians around Freetown hitting their heads together in what they called a Keldabe kiss. A measure of love, an important cultural aspect to them, and something that, until now, Cobb had not been able to do with as much fervor as he wanted. The beskar helmet would let him headbutt Din just like the others all did.

Fett entered the room once more, carrying with him the jetpack. This one was lacking the missile attachment, which Cobb had no problem with. He was hoping they wouldn't have ‘back missile level threats’ any time soon. Or ever.

“Skywalker and Grogu made it here on time.” Fett announced, walking over to Cobb to fasten the jetpack on his back.

Now, the familiar weight was nearly complete. “Good, we wouldn’t ‘ave started without them, ya know that.”

There was a beat of silence. Fett had often been a quiet man, and at first it had unnerved Cobb, but now he was used to it. Turns out a lot of Mandalorians tend to be the quiet type. That was fine, Cobb usually had enough words to bridge the silence.

Not now, though. With the prospect of what was about to happen. He cursed himself for being so nervous, since he and Din had practically been married for the last year anyway. Hell, they shared a bedroom. Not just space in the bed when Din was in town - no, he had an armor rack and space in the dresser and everything. There weren’t even going to be proper papers after the marriage, not technically. They would be married by Tatooinian and Mandalorian law, but outside of the Outer Rim that probably meant nothing.

Here though, to the people who were their people, that meant everything.

“You’ll need this.” Fett broke the growing silence as he held up Din’s helmet to Cobb.

Without hesitation, Cobb grasped the silver, forever unpainted beskar in his hands, a smile lighting up his face. He knew how the ceremony would go, they had talked about it extensively with elder Mandalorians. First, Cobb was expected to pledge Resol’nare, and repeat the six truths. Din had to accept him as a Mandalorian, if he recited them correctly. (Which, Cobb had practiced so many times he was sure he would be repeating those words on his deathbed one day) Then, the marriage ceremony would start. They had steps to go through: together, they would do their Basic Tatooinian vows, Cobb would need to recite the adoption words to Grogu, perform a dance with their weapons that was almost like a mock fight, and finally –

– Finally, with Cobb and Din both sweat soaked and practically panting, they met together at the center of the crowd. The Mandalorians were singing, and the telltale sound of beskar instruments hung in the air like a haunting chorus. The sound was probably terrifying to any passerby, as if there would be anyone out this far into the desert.

They retrieved the helmets from a rug on the sand, picking up each other’s. Cobb had no idea if Din’s hands were shaking, but his own were. This was a level of excitement he had not been fully prepared for.

Encouraged by the others around them, Cobb first stepped forward to Din, looking up at him with a grin. They were supposed to speak freely now, but all the words that Cobb had prepared just felt wrong in the moment.

“Din Djarin,” He finally started, speaking as he slowly lifted Din’s helmet. “When I first met you, I never expected t’hear your name or know your face. Now here I am, puttin’ your helmet back over that beautiful face.”

That brought a chuckle out of Din, and he waited to heal the seal engage before he started speaking, mirroring the actions. “Cobb Vanth, when we met you told me how much you cared for your people. Enough to break the chains of slavery for them. I know you would do the same for our people now, for our foundling, and for me. But I will ensure until my dying breath that you forever walk in the light of freedom.”

Cobb’s seal engaged, the hiss unfamiliar to him since when he had previously worn Fett’s armor he had not sealed it to a flight suit. A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of it, and partially at the thought of not getting sand stuck to his neck anymore.

Both men raised their hands to the edge of the other’s helmet, the distance between them closing as they spoke the next part together nearly perfectly, “Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dhar'tome. Mhi me'dinui an. Mhi ba'juri verde.”

Among the growing chorus of cheers, singing and music, the sound of their Keldabe kiss sung loud and clear in both of their ears, the beskar ringing true. Afterwards, the festivities kicked up. The next day, life would return to normal. The days coming after that would be nearly identical to every day before, except Din would leave town feeling a little lighter knowing Cobb was better protected. And Cobb Vanth, well.

Life moved forward, and one day he could not recall when exactly the armor became a familiar and comforting weight against his skin. But if asked, he would say it was his wedding day.

#dincobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #wedding #quick write #space husbands #cobb really does deserve new armor though

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