Chapter Text
Din was striding down the ramp, armour scraped and still covered in grit. There wasn’t a spot on him free of sand. Obi-Wan was surprised at the frustration coming off of him in waves. Maybe his trip to help Boba and Fennec did not go well? Jaster whistled under his bucket beside him, picking up the same signals.
“He… does not look happy.”
“Mando, darlin’, please don’t treat me so cold,” came the drawling, heavily-hick Outer Rim accented voice up the ramp. A scruffy blonde-haired man followed behind him at a much more relaxed pace, a grin splitting his handsome face. There was a skip to his step as he half-attempted to keep up with his buir’s long strides. Jaster tensed beside him as Jango and Obi-Wan watched, confused at his sudden defensive stance, however subtle.
“Cold? I don’t think I’ve been cold for over three weeks.”
“Those desert nights were pretty chilly. You still don’t cuddle much, so you have only yourself to blame for that. I was right there with open arms, and hands.”
“Do not remind me of that little situation you got us tied up in. What the fuck did I tell you about open hands? For the thousandth time, closed fist means violence, see? E chu ta!”
Din turned on his heel, balled up a fist and swung at the other man’s head, who only grinned wider and expertly dodged just before it could connect. It was done with familiarity as he danced away with a laugh, even when Din continued to stalk after him. Their spectators just continued to watch it pass back and forth like a well-matched game of cubi’kad. Jaster got tenser by the second, both him and Jango still trying to puzzle out why.
“You promised you’d come back to teach me. It’s not my fault I forgot to not curl my fingers in a bunch of elaborate hand signs! I can’t do that weird voice thing that you do!”
“It is your fault! Wermo! Di’kut! Moron! I can speak over a dozen languages! And understand many more, and I have taught many! I know you know four and probably Bocce, so you’re lazy! Learn!” He then kept going, growling and grunting raspy things he guessed were swear words while moving his hands in quick, fluid motions, making signs that the other man was watching sharply.
“I love it when you call me pet names. And slow down when you do that, all I got was that I look amazing and you’re happy to see me. And in my defence, you are a weird language, math nerd. I do not argue with you on these things. That’s like me arguing Fen on sniper rifles; I don’t have a death wish. You should just suck it up and become my full-time translator and bookkeeper. I’ll pay you good.”
“Pay me in what? Spotchka!? You look horrible and I hate seeing you; you bring me nothing but misfortune. Orchestrating slave uprisings, no backup, no armour, like really. Idiot.”
“If that’s true, you brought yourself misfortune by getting involved. You never told me you knew the language, for starters. Second, I know you only compliment in opposites, so you must really have missed me.”
“If that di’kutla brain of yours thinks of a language, Cobb, assume I know it. Somehow, you can remember the one spoken mostly in secret, but cannot remember to keep an open palm for the one you use for trade deals daily. It is quite clear, the difference between asking for assistance and friendship and asking for Tuskens to kill you. I think you like me beating it into you, you masochist.”
“Well, I do like your particular brand of friendship, where you beat me up and yell at me.”
When Grogu caught sight of the other man as he got closer, he erupted into a shriek of delight. He wiggled right out of Obi-Wan’s hands and started toddling over to him, hands raised above his head. Jaster took an almost imperceptible step forward, fingers near his holster twitching as he watched the other man raptly. The only reason he stayed calm, Obi-Wan guesses, is because Din is still calm.
“Yes, you little traitor, look at the leech I picked up,” Din said, finally getting close enough to Obi-Wan to pat his shoulder in greeting, body not nearly as tense as Obi-Wan thought. His buir’s stance was actually quite relaxed, now that he was looking at him standing so close. The most tell-tale sign was that he did not stop Grogu from getting close to his companion and jumping up and down, arms over his head in the universal sign to be picked up. Also, now that he thought about it, his buir did not put his back to someone he didn’t trust, and he came down the ship ramp first.
The weirdest thing of all, which was saying a lot when his parent just comes home with new ba’vodue randomly, was that Din was staring at Jaster, and that Jaster was staring right at this Cobb fellow. Even through his bucket, it was obvious his attention was honed right on him, and subsequently kind of ignoring his buir. Din cocks his head the same time him and Jango do, before his buir’s attention switches back to his brother.
“Oh, there’s the little womp-rat! Wow, I think you’ve grown a centimetre or two since I last saw you and your dad,” the man preened, picking him up.
“Lies. Quit making yourself look better by sucking up.”
“We can’t all strap him into a ship and barrel roll him until we’re his favourite. I’m keeping the competition for second place on their toes with flattery and bribery.”
Grogu started making all sorts of sounds, pleased as punch. The stranger listened and then responded, not quite like he could understand like they could through the Force, but well enough through familiarity.
“Yes, I know I promised more of that krayt-meat. I have some jerky, though, here. Was that chunk y’all got tasty? Did your dad spice it up and make it deathly hot for you? No? Just me? I think he tried to kill me.”
“I’m sorry, who got eaten by that krayt? I deserved to make it as spicy as I like after it puked me up,” Din says, and now Obi-Wan is picking up the underlying humour. He’s not really mad; he’s just treating him like how Obi-Wan would treat Quinlan when he pissed him off. Wait. That bedtime story was real?
“Please, darlin’, I could never forget that mountain-eater swallowing you whole and then you flying out of its exploding body like my knight in shining beskar. C’mon, get real. I still get wet dreams.”
“Keep your dirty mouth clean while holding my son.”
“This is the Sheriff you mentioned?” Jaster says evenly, while Obi-Wan and Jango try to process what they just heard. It clicked into place for Obi-Wan before Jango, why Jaster seemed so defensive: this man was flirting openly with Din who was allowing it.
“It was not as bad as he’s making it sound,” Din objects. Obi-Wan looks at his buir in fascinated astonishment. Was he really not picking up the signals that Jaster was more concerned about this Sheriff than he was about Din being eaten by a sand dragon? He didn’t think the Mand’alor was capable, but the man was undoubtedly jealous, scrutinizing this new addition with a glare that cuts behind his visor’s glass. It’s… actually kind of funny.
“Oh, it was glorious. You ever seen a mountain-eater? Those bastards eat other krayts for appetizers, sarlaacs for dinner. Fett should have the footage from when I was wearing his armour.”
“You cammed that?”
“Two words—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—Spank Bank.”
“And that’s it. Baby privileges revoked,” Din says, swiping Grogu out of his arms, “Before he can embarrass himself, or me, any further— Cobb Vanth, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my ad’ika, Jaster Mereel, the leader here, and his son Jango Fett. This is Cobb,” Din stops and turns his helmet, “I don’t even know what to call you. Pain in my ass?”
“Brother in arms,” Cobb nods.
Din nods back, “Continuous pain in my ass. He needs some Tusken sign language lessons. Is it okay if he stays until I can beat it through his thick skull?”
“Of course. A friend of yours is a friend of ours.”
Cobb had a slow grin coming over his face as he stared at the side of Din’s helm. That was the same besotted way Jaster looked at his buir, too. Cobb was just way more obvious about it, which at this point judging by Jaster’s body language, it was a death wish. His eyes kept flitting between Jaster and Din.
“What?” Din asked, exasperated, without moving his head.
“Akku?” Obi-Wan knew this one! Amatakka! Buir had taught him more when he learned that Obi-Wan picked up a few words and hand signs the slaves used during his time as one. He was surprised Cobb was whispering it out loud in front of strangers. Akku meant… sweetheart?
“Kai.” Yes.
“Analav?” Freedom-maker or runner, one that helps slaves get free.
“Kai.”
Din turns to fully face him, tilting his head in a silent question.
“…Dupuvellta?” Obi-Wan struggles with this one, but pulls it out of his memory. One who gilds the chains, who frees in illusion and then keeps in reality.
“No. The other two, yes.”
The smile grew on Cobb’s face and he punched Din’s pauldron. “Didn’t know you’d have it in you,” he wipes a finger under his eye as if to brush away a tear, “Big, bad, daddy Mando, finally laying down roots. Well, I’m glad you found someone worth their salt.”
He finished, sticking his arm out to Jaster. When Jaster clasped his arm in greeting, Cobb pulled him in, slapping his backplate. Obi-Wan thought it was strange and risky, startling an unfamiliar Mando like that, but he understood when he got the tail end of what Vanth was whispering into the audial of his helmet.
“-hurt or bind him, I’ll bury you alive in the desert.”
He gave Jaster props because he only shook his hand and nodded his head once, like he’d dig if need be. Well, he was officially a little wary on his behalf, but ecstatic that his Buir had another vod looking out for him. Also, technically, that meant he had another Uncle? How many aunts and uncles did he really have? They kept popping out of the woodwork like unkillable, hilarious cockroaches.
The man lets go of Jaster’s vambrace and turns his attention to him. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye that definitely reminds him of Quinlan and his mind is already warning him that he was in the presence of a trickster. The raised eyebrow is returned by Obi-Wan, determined not to be anxious or show hesitance. The crooked grin eases something in him though, a familiar softness he’s seen from many Haat’ade.
“Mando, you mean ad’ika similar to the little green friend, yes? Ik’aad, you called him?” He asks, not looking away from Obi-Wan as he addresses his vod. He’s grinning back at the man now; he knows more Mando’a than he does apparently, because even he can tell he butchered the pronunciation before hearing the other two Mandos groan.
“Great Manda” Din chuckles, shoulders shaking and Grogu giggling as he’s bounced in his arms, “Your accent makes that hilarious. Do it again.”
“You ass, you know what words I’ve learned from you and Boba. Answer me.”
“Dance, monkey,” Din’s spare hand shot to his blaster, fingers undoing the strap with a loud snap. For some reason that elicits an instinctual reaction in Cobb, jumping up from where he’d slouched to look at Obi-Wan dead on. He even hides his lanky body behind Obi-Wan the best he can, his best defence a child.
“Quit snappin’ that! You four have scarred me! Fine! Dik’ut! Mir'osik! Kaysh mirsh'kyramud!”
Din, Jaster and Jango are all howling with unrestrained laughter now, father and son leaning on each other for support as Din braces himself with one hand on his knee as he wheezes.
“Toll paid, asshole? Cough it up, did you collect another kid?”
“Yes,” Din gets out in between his continued laughter.
“Thank you, I hate you too. It’s not like you’ve got an accent fighting you.”
“No?” Din says, and they all stop and stare at the change in his voice, lilting and thick enough to make that single, familiar word a different sound, “Of course I have an accent, I’m just better at hiding it.”
They’re all silent again as Din and Cobb delve back into rapid conversation, distracted it seems by their brotherly bantering. His buir is quick-witted, so dry and sarcastic, Obi-Wan loves him for it. They must be close as vode because it’s an immature type of arguing that requires quick thinking for a response as they effortlessly tease each other. Obi-Wan is pleased as punch that he gets to watch his buir be silly as he banters back.
“Oh, what the Hell, that’s almost as thick as mine. Do that again, in your tongue. I wanna see what I’m working with.”
“Granilia Antila su la liiasaana pur la runni.”
“Are you kidding me? You sound like you’re singing. Where’s Boba’s helmet when I need it?”
“You could’ve had your own by now if you weren’t so set in your ways, you old dog.”
“I’m a free bird, Mando.”
“Correction: commitment stunted.”
“We are not having this argument again. You’re worse than Boba.”
“Boba does not have children and is not used to dealing with childish excuses. In fact, I think you are preparing me for Grogu’s teenage rebellion phase because my other three teenagers do not misbehave like you do.”
“You gonna put me over your knee?”
“I might put you over a cliff.”
“I’ll take what I can get over your rebellion phase. Thank God that’s over. You want to talk about misbehaving, Mister I lost my son so now I’ll just work myself to death and ignore everyone who cares about me?”
“Grief works in mysterious ways.”
“No, Greef works in mysterious ways. There was nothing mysterious about you. Does that mean you’re done with your… collecting, of the non-children type?”
“….”
“I saw you dragging that sack into Boba’s basement. Dragging. I know how much you can lift, I’ve seen you put Boba and Cara on your shoulders at the same time because they said you couldn’t. Straight answer, brother, no word games. You still hoarding?”
A considerable awkward pause as Din stares at him.
“… What do you want?”
“I fucking knew it.”
“What do you want? Do not lord this over me, I’d rather kill you, Cobb. Doing it with witnesses; I should shoot you and cut my losses now.”
“I want my shooting range back. If the girls get their lounge, Boba gets his weapon workshop, and you get your… Room back, I want my range.”
“I did not get my room back, I just found an empty one to start stuffing osik into. Fennec has her lounge to herself now incase you forgot Cara isn't here, and Boba lost all his weapons to work on. Did you forget all the crazy wizard shit I had down there that is now gone too? Make your own damn range.”
“I could, but it wouldn’t be your two strange Mando’s inventions. Those were one of a kind targets.”
“They were your birthday present. Going to have to wait, cowboy.”
“My Freed-day is coming up.”
“Do not pull that osik with me, every day you want something is your Freed-day.”
“Damn, you figured that out?”
“There was no figuring anything, I just knew you would not be above childish antics.”
“I’m not childish,” the man pouts, proving Din’s point. His buir sighs, turning his helm to Jaster.
“Please tell me you have a closet somewhere I can stuff him into. Preferably far away from me.”
Jaster perks up, which is not surprising now that Din’s directly talking to him. When his voice comes back, there’s something dark and mischievous in it that should honestly put the fear of God into Cobb Vanth, who seemingly does not care.
“I’ve got just the room,” The Mand’alor says, and Obi-Wan believes that room has an eighty-percent chance of being the dungeons. The other twenty percent is a hole Jaster’s going to dig out back. Jango is staring at his father like he’s grown a second head, also catching his dangerous tone. So, it is a strange reaction if Jango’s befuddled. Interesting.
Jaster tips his head towards the doorway, and the rest follow without a word. He leads them down the halls, back straight and walking stiffer than Obi-Wan’s ever seen. He hopes his new uncles survives the week. The Mand’alor stays silent as they walk through the base, passing Haat’Mando’ade stopping to stare at their leader before they realize that’s a bear they don’t want to poke, and instead welcome Din home. Din asks how the boys have been, wanting to know what they’ve been up to while he’s been gone. Obi-Wan, happy to have him back and his attention, doesn’t spare a detail. Once that’s done, Din takes the lead to point out facilities Cobb might need, considering Jaster wasn’t doing his normal introductory tour.
Finally, Jaster stops in front of a room and keys it open. Obi-Wan has to force himself to keep from laughing once he connects the dots.
“Here we are,” He says, voice so chipper it can only be fake, “Right next to everything you need.”
Wasn’t it, though? Obi-Wan hasn’t seen it before, but this man is one conniving bastard when he wants to be. Not only was this room close to the communal bathrooms and baths, but it was bordered by easily the loudest spaces. He was pretty sure the back wall of this room was adjacent with the shooting range and training room, and the public kitchens were across the hall which was where most Mandalorians get the rowdiest. On top of that, this room was on the other side of the Compound from their living quarters. It was closer to Jaster’s home than Din’s, which was humorous on multiple levels. At least it’s not an actual closet, or the brigs.
“Thank you,” Cobb says, either none the wiser or just not giving a shit.
“Make yourself at home,” Jaster returns, sounding like he doesn’t mean a word. The two men stare at each other for a moment, Din cocking his head again as he glances between them.
“All good, cowboy?” Din eventually asks when they just keep scrutinizing the other.
“I’m good, sweetheart. Find me later?”
Jaster does this full body twitch that Din misses, giving his brother a nod instead. Jango grabs Obi-Wan’s arm, body shaking, and Obi-Wan hates him for it. He can hide behind his armour, but Obi-Wan is doing everything in his power to not burst out laughing. That makes it harder, because he knows by the squeeze of his hand he’s saying ‘Are you seeing this shit?’. Yes he is, but Din isn’t, so that makes it worse. This is something he’s going to let them figure out themselves, and reap the benefits as an outside party. Jaster looks like he wants to challenge Cobb Vanth for calling Din sweetheart, and maybe these Mandalorians are rubbing off on him, because he thinks he’d be fully entertained watching such a thing.
“I’ll let you all catch up,” Cobb says, turning to go inside. Obi-Wan catches the wink he throws at Jaster, this smirk on his face telling. He’s noticed Jaster’s issue, and is rubbing it in. Jaster stiffens, arm twitching towards his holster again. Forget a challenge; Jaster might just kill him in his sleep. Obi-Wan would fear for him if he wasn’t part of the aliit, meaning he’s tougher than he looks.
Best of luck, cowboy uncle.
Jaster can thoroughly say Din does and will continue to always surprise him.
When he had called before he left Tatooine, he had mentioned finding another sibling, and Jaster had thought: great. He meant that both sardonically and truthfully, because Din’s siblings had a habit of being able to harass him, as well as be supportive and helpful when they wanted to be. Nice, even, when they weren’t being evil. He expected this sibling to be the same, and could just be happy Din had more of his family here.
The second Cobb Vanth stepped off the ship, Jaster realized something about himself he never knew. It was because of Din Djarin, of course, because it could only be Din. Jaster had never loved someone like he does him, and therefore, had never been privy to someone else also loving Din just as deeply. It shouldn’t be surprising, because Jaster had told Din once he couldn’t believe he didn’t have people lined up for blocks for a chance to court him. The Haat’ade certainly had. That statement was very different to having the man he wished to marry being called endearments by another man. So much so that it didn’t bother Din at all, almost like it was commonplace instead of his name.
Hence, learning that he was a jealous man. Vicious in it even, the way it took over his entire being and pulled up each of his instincts. He was honed in on Cobb Vanth the moment he heard him speak, the second he saw the way he was looking at Din, how sincerely he meant his sweet words, all the things he knew about Din that he could tease him about, things that Jaster hadn't learned yet. It made him tense and defensive, expecting a fight, made him furious because Jaster wanted to be the only one loving Din like that. Cobb Vanth loved Din too, he could recognize it from the way he looked in the mirror. There were lines of stress that Din had smoothed out from his face, he smiles more than he ever has so much that it shows even when he’s not, there’s a brightness to his eyes that matches Cobb Vanth’s.
Din had claimed him to be his brother, and maybe that was the case now, but it hadn’t always been. Still isn’t, really, with the way Cobb’s affections hadn’t seemed to fade even with them no longer being together. Jaster cannot determine whether that had been done by choice, or by Din’s sudden time travel and disappearance. The man cared enough to find him, to travel to this place that must be so foreign to them.
Maybe that’s what makes him lose his absolute mind. He trusts Din to be faithful, to be honest if he no longer wishes to be with him, but he does not trust this other man. Either to not step over the bounds or to push his luck, to try and get Din back in his arms instead of Jaster’s. He pictures it, this handsome scruffy man who protected his town from slavers and a sand dragon, holding Din tight. He tries to find what Din found attractive in this man, and starts to compare. He’s a fighter, a leader, he makes Din laugh, he cares for him; they’re traits they both share, and yet Jaster wants to be better.
He wants Cobb Vanth to lose.
It doesn’t make sense, because he already has. Din had chose him, was still choosing to be with him even with Cobb’s arrival. He should be satisfied with that. Then why does he still want to make the man bleed?
Jaster wants to challenge him, but refrains. He is still Din’s brother, and to outright challenge him would be to admit he sees him as a threat. It may be obvious by the way he’s been glaring at him, offering him the most inconvenient room they had on base. Jaster had congratulated himself on the fact he wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep while he was here, before it sunk it what a tool it made him. It still didn’t make him change his mind, so he had to find another way to determine his intentions.
It didn’t take Jaster long to run into Vanth alone. There was no denying he’d been lying in wait for the opportunity to approach him, because he wanted to know what Vanth expected from Din, and not because he was jealous at the way he’d been looking at him. If he was being honest, he’d admit that was a lie, but Jaster is more competitive and stubborn than that. It was more than how this Sheriff was looking at Din, but how he talked to him with such familiarity. It had taken weeks for Din to no longer react to Jaster’s pet names, weeks for him to trust he meant them sincerely and as terms of endearment. He hadn’t even twitched when Cobb Vanth called him darlin' or sweetheart. It made his blood boil.
“Mereel,” Vanth said, feigning surprise. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to welcome you in the traditional Mandalorian way.”
That was a hunk of osik, but he was still Din’s friend, Mandalorian or not. He was not as hesitant to display their culture around him, but he was still wary of his intentions. It was a shameful way to show what he thought of Din’s judgment of character, but Jaster couldn’t help taking the opportunity anyways. His priority was Din’s safety, no matter if it made him feel like an ass.
“Oh, well, sounds great. Lead the way.”
Jaster led him to his office, gestured to the guest chairs and sat at his side. He pulled a bottle out of the desk drawer along with two glasses.
“Shots. Exciting. I was half expecting you to kill me.”
“Depends,” Jaster says, voice flat as he pulls off his helmet. Cobb raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He pours the drink and offers Vanth’s share. He clinked his glass against Jaster’s like Mandalorians do, tapping the rim of his glass to the bottom of Jaster’s in respect, Din most likely his teacher. That jealousy he’s been trying to tame rears its ugly head. How much trust and respect does Din have for this aruetii to have had time to teach their ways?
“Mando almost slaughtered me point blank when we met,” Vanth says out of the blue, eyes watching him closely. There is a sudden feeling of being tested; is Cobb scoping him out like he is Cobb? It’s a sudden twist that has Jaster making sure his face stays as expressionless as his buy’ce. It’s even harder when that was the last thing he expected Vanth to say, and the image of it almost has him breaking. That twisted part of him that told him Cobb Vanth was competition, and Jaster would not listen to it, wished Din had slaughtered him just to save Jaster the trouble.
Jaster does not choke on his tihaar, but it is a close thing, barely managing to keep his blank face. “Oh?” He says through the burn in his throat.
“He had been looking for fellow Mandalorians. There were not many left where we are from. He found me in the middle of the Wastes, wearing armour that I had bought from Jawas. When I pulled the helmet off, he near blasted me and stripped it from my corpse.”
“Most honourable Mandalorians would.”
“He is more honourable than most. He made me a deal for it.”
Jaster scoffed, “A deal? For the armour he was within his right to reclaim from you?”
Not to mention Din was a traditionalist. Everything Jaster had read about old customs, reclaiming lost armour was one of the highest valued quarries. It was still a part of their culture now, but it was geared towards reclaiming one’s own Clan and House beskar’gam. If it was simple to reclaim, done and done. Many current Mandalorians would not face death for beskar’gam if they didn’t know who it belonged to, and even less would make a deal for it, preferring to just strip it off a cold body. Traditionally, it was acquired by any means necessary, for any price including death, usually done spur of the moment when one recognizes the imposter. In some sects, there was even a Beroya dedicated to just hunting down stolen beskar.
“Like I said: honourable. He realized I only used the armour to protect the town from slavers and then the Krayt. He made it possible to remove the threat, and for me to take it off without fear. He has my respect, as well as my debt. Mando can deny it all he wants, but I can never repay it fully. Whatever he wants, I give to him. I know you can understand that.”
“You love him,” Jaster says bluntly. He understood that.
Cobb gives him a look that perfectly conveys ‘Duh, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?’. It’s infuriating when he squints and speaks up like Jaster’s hard of hearing. An inappropriate urge to smack him swells and Jaster squashes it down just barely.
“Of course. I tried to show him, but you will have to pick up where I finished.”
Jaster sipped his drink, flummoxed. Were they talking about the same thing? Jaster would not so easily let Din go, not if he was within his reach. He was surely still within Cobb’s, the way they look and act around each other telling.
“It’s sweet of you, but you don’t need to worry,” Vanth said, prompted by something on Jaster’s face.
“About what?”
“Him and I. I love him like the ground loves the rain. I will take what he gives me with greed, but I can never return the favour. I repaid him how I could, tried to show him he was worth it. He could have it if he wanted to take it. But rain just gives to the ground, it cannot take anything back. He was cheated in his youth, making him think he can only give. I’ve seen many like him growing up on Tatooine, trying to reclaim what was taken in the only way they know how. He’s an expert at making others feel good, feels good because of it, but doesn’t know how to receive it himself. I don’t think he knows that he can.”
“But you love him. You do not want him back?”
“He was never mine to begin with. He accepted your proposal, not mine.”
Jaster suddenly realizes what he’s been missing this whole time. “He’s spoken to you about me.”
The smile Vanth gives him is cheeky and infuriating. No wonder Din is trying to punch him all the time.
“Only good things. You give him hope, and he’s willing to try. The man’s as cautious as they come, and he does not take advice. If he takes it, he does the opposite, so I usually try not to give him suggestions. I am hoping you are not that stubborn.”
“So…?”
“Isn’t it obvious, mate? He’s like my best friend, past occasional lay, and brother all wrapped up in one. You’re clearly a good man, a fellow father, and an honourable leader.”
Jaster was still lost, “So?”
Vanth finished his glass and turned to him, face mischievous with a raised eyebrow and crooked smile.
“I am going to get you two hitched.”
Three more shots of tihaar in each, and Jaster could say he was impressed at Vanth’s control on his liquor. The room was beginning to sway to him and the chair was the only thing keeping him from swaying with it. He was half expecting for the alcohol content to kick Vanth off his high bantha, but nope. The man was tenaciously keeping up.
“Din would drink with me, once in a while if he was on planet for a job or repairs,” Vanth said, again just responding to Jaster’s facial expressions, “I got him a little straw. That man cannot hold his liquor worth shit, but he’s a good cheat. It wasn’t until I poured the drinks that we were playing a fair game.”
“Oh, he is sneaky like that. I think he’s been…avoiding me.”
Which was true. Since their Hunt, Din doesn’t linger. He stays for what he deems appropriate time after dinner, but doesn’t initiate anything more. Jaster himself is nervous to do it, not wanting to pressure him. The mirror he now owned made it even harder. Still, Jaster doesn’t know how to ask for more when he’s not sure if Din wants to give. He’d told him once he couldn’t wait for Jaster to lead him to his bedroom, but Jaster kept dragging his heels. He wanted Din to love him, to trust him, before he did. He doesn’t know if he’s there yet, if he’s obtained all he can at this point in time, to have Din not fear him in the heat of the moment.
Sometimes Din gives him this look, then glances down his hall to where the bedroom lies, but never says anything. Never tries to start something through touch or flirting. Sometimes, after that, he thinks he catches a flash of disappointment when Jaster doesn't mention it either. It’s got him lost in open seas, not sure where to steer, which direction dangerous storms and beautiful weather lie in. Cobb Vanth is also the last man he wanted to admit this to, but his drunken plan is backfiring and loosening his lips when it’s supposed to loosen Vanth’s.
“You will know when he is avoiding you. You will not see him at all.”
“The conversations are always short and he never stays long when we’re alone. I’m worried I took it too far, too fast.”
Vanth snorted, “That’s not the problem, mate. The first time: did he come on to you?”
“Yes. But….”
“But he thought he owed you something.”
Jaster blinks, “How do you know that?”
“Let me try another. Did you make him cum before he left?”
“Of course.”
“Well, there’s your problem. You evened the score, now he doesn’t know what to do. He expects you to come back if you want more. You have to approach him.”
"I... don't understand. Why?"
Vanth sighs, "Sex is like, to him, a thing to give. To us, it is something to enjoy together. He is giving to you, and you keep giving back. Din will only do that so much before he begins to think he's taking from you, if you do not make your interest known."
“But I don’t know how. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m forcing him, or, or.” Jaster just stopped, grabbing the bottle.
“It’s a game to him, my friend, and it’s your move. Do what I did—”
Jaster scoffs, spilling while refilling their glasses.
“—No, hear me out! You just… make yourself as sexy as possible. Try to lay down or sit, if you can. If he thinks you won’t corner him, he’ll come to you. Just… give him your best ‘c’mere sexy thang’ look.”
“That osik worked for you?”
“Seriously! If he thinks you’re approachable, and you turn him on enough, Mando will give in. You know the rules?”
“Rules? What rules?”
Vanth giggles and it should not sound cute coming from a grown man, “I’ll let him tell you. You got it right the first time, you repaid the favour, so you’re even.” He held up a hand at Jaster’s open mouth, “I know there’s no debt. I was trying to teach him that, now I’m passing you the torch to teach him what we already know. But as long as you show you’re still interested in him, or are… relaxed enough around him that he comes to you, you two will be fine.”
Jaster closed his mouth, and sat quietly for a second, “I don’t know if I should be taking your advice.”
“Hey, it worked for me.”
“How do I even set this up? I feel like I’m trapping him even more.”
“Let me ask you a question— hic— was there anything… almost conveniently perfect about the day Mando came onto you?”
“What? I don’t— wait.”
“Yup. I see dots connecting.”
“No… he didn’t?”
“You can bet your ass he did. C’mon partner, tell me.”
“Jango and Obi-Wan did a tour around the base all day. Jango wouldn’t tell me who gave him the idea, and he’d been so skittish to even approach Obi-Wan. And— Manda, he did. The lesson for the younglings that day. The teacher got a suggestion that they should teach how to maintain and clean our armour. Sonan, a boy very fond of Din, begged me to let the class use my set for the day.”
“So not only did that bugger get you alone, he got you Mando-Naked. You gotta even the score, man. He totally set you up.”
“He would go that far?”
“Mando wanted you too, Mereel. I know you don’t need to take your armour off to get laid, unless you’re sporting a codpiece. He wanted you without it.”
“They’re useful. Don’t diss the codpiece.”
“You’re missing the point here.”
“No, I get what you’re saying, but I’ve had way too much tihaar to come up with a strategy for him to take his off.”
“That I can’t help you with. Never seen the man take it off without heavy suggestion and by that, I mean lying there naked and begging with your eyes. Even that never got the helmet off, not like I thought it would.”
“You… haven’t seen his face?”
“… You have?”
“Yes,” Jaster answers, finally feeling like he has a leg up on this man. Din trusted him to bare his face with him the very first time. He feels privileged knowing this, that he hadn’t for this brother of his who seems so much closer.
“That’s surprising. He told me his mother was the last, before Grogu. So, it’s a sign you shouldn’t worry so much.”
That makes his heart ache, having this man widen the picture and make it clearer despite his blurry vision. Din really had barred his face his entire life, and only showed it to save his son.
“She marched a long time ago,” he comments solemnly, feeling the loss himself. It must have become so normal for him, being a Clan of One. It’s a hard pill to swallow when Mandalorians revelled in community, and Din had been ostracized from his.
“When he was a teenager. He told me it was close after his… Mandalorian Teen Initiation Thing. I reckon he’s close to forty now.”
“Verd’goten.”
“That’s it!”
“He would have been… thirteen, fourteen. Maybe younger; he was already hunting with his buir.”
“Oh… I would have thought it was older. I hoped it was.”
“Why?” Jaster said, burying his face in his hands, “Why so long? I don’t understand. There are some Mandalorian sects that follow the Old Way, mostly out of respect to preserve history and teach unbiased without Clan or House names. The Children of the Watch are a good example. They aren’t zealots who would harm their own, would turn them into such isolationists they begin to treat each other with distance.”
It’s something he keeps coming back to. How, in sixty years, did his cousin’s Tribe fall into such a state? Was that scum alor really all there was to blame, or had the deterioration already begun? Din had confided in him that even having medics see him would have broken his Vows in the eyes of his Tribe, and that is just so ludicrous to him. To have such absolutes is cruel when life is everything but. There should have been exceptions for certain things, Grogu’s retrieval one of them. Din still struggles to reconcile that fact with Goran Bronwyn’s advice, still looking for redemption. Cobb tries to explain it to him best as he can, drunk as they are.
“Where Din comes from, it is to hide your identity or die. It is hard to explain the deliberate and ruthless hunt for Mandalorians where we are from. There was… one man in particular of great power, who was single-handedly responsible for the slaughter of many of Din’s people. Din has told me he is the only one of his Covert that has breached the ground, their hiding, in almost two decades, in fear of being snuffed out completely. It has been drilled into them young to take your helmet off in front of someone not family, or have it taken off for you, means exile. 'You may never put it back on, for you no longer follow the Way of Mandalore.' He told me he went back and was turned away by his Armorer until he redeemed himself. Didn’t even tell him what to do, just gave him some bullshit line about taking a bath? I don’t know, he was drunk when he told me that.”
The Living Waters. That was it? Go to a planet that has been deemed inhabitable, and take a dip? The planet could have killed him before he reached them, and they sent him away with that as the only option. Jaster’s blood starts boiling all over again, but this time Cobb is no longer his target.
“That’s just… Oh, let me get my hands on them, I’ll show them what it means to be Mandalorian…” Jaster grumbled, glass creaking in the tightening grip of his gloves.
“I hear you, man. But you won’t find them, because they are long gone. I wouldn’t worry about that, just… Focus on Din, and my tips.”
“What? Sit sexy, and approachable, and try and give him ‘come sex me and only me’ signals?”
“No, you’re gonna have to say that straight out, but you got the rest right.”
“You are useless, and a pain in the ass.”
“Aw, thank you.”
Then, the man thanks him for the drinks and saunters his way out. Once Jaster sobers himself up, he realizes how the tables have turned. He’d gone into this room determined to wring information from Cobb, and he had in a way, but he’s realizing now that it went the other way around for the most part. They’d ended up talking for hours, Jaster not even hitting him like he wanted to, because the conversation had been surprisingly good. Cobb Vanth was a good talker, knowing how to get people to open up. Jaster would have revealed himself in the random questions he’d asked about the Haat’ade and the subtle ones about his history.
Even more, did they talk about Din. Or, Jaster talked about Din, and once he realized Vanth wasn’t a threat, his drunk brain had been thrilled to have someone’s ear who understood. All the little things about Din that drove him crazy, ideas and plans of how to show his affection, how to take that final step forward: Cobb Vanth understood, and like Jaster, loved Din enough to let him go and support Jaster in his attempt.
He sighs, accepts the fact he’s a fool, and goes to find Din. He can at least be honest about his idiocy. Cobb Vanth has given him a lot to think about in the meantime.